77 AC
Winterfell
Third Person Pov
As Lord Theon's pronouncement of "War it is" hung in the air, a stirring rippled through the assembled lords.
Then all the lords raised their blades high above their heads. A unified roar erupted, shaking the very stones of Winterfell, a primal cry of defiance and unwavering loyalty.
"FOR THE NORTH!" they bellowed, their voices echoing off the ancient walls, a testament to their fierce independence and their willingness to fight for their ancestral lands and their chosen king. The sound was deafening, a promise of war that would soon spread across the vast territories of the North, carried on the winds and whispered in the shadows. The die had been cast. The North had chosen its path.
As the thunderous cries of "For the North!" began to subside, leaving a ringing in the ears and a fervent fire in the hearts of the assembled lords, Theon Stark turned his attention to the immediate necessities of the coming conflict. His gaze, now sharp and focused, settled upon the Lord of White Harbor.
"Lord Manderly," Theon commanded, his voice clear and decisive, cutting through the lingering echoes of the war cry, "you are to take command of the eastern fleet. Ready every ship, arm every sailor. Ensure our coasts are secure and prepare to move men and supplies as needed. The Narrow Sea may soon see more than just merchant vessels."
He then turned to the formidable Lord of Bear Isle. "Lord Mormont," Theon continued, his respect evident in his tone, "you will oversee the preparations of the western fleet. Muster your ships, secure the Stony Shore, and be ready to patrol our western waters. We must ensure no unwelcome guests arrive unannounced."
Next, Theon's gaze fell upon his own brother, his loyal and steadfast kin. "Jonnos," he instructed, his voice firm, " Close the gates on the moat, and I want every wagon, every traveler, every piece of merchandise entering these walls thoroughly checked. We cannot risk spies or sabotage within our very heart."
Finally, Theon addressed the assembled lords once more, his voice resonating with the weight of leadership. "My lords," he declared, his gaze sweeping across their determined faces, "the die is cast. Return to your lands, muster your men, gather your supplies. We will meet in one moon's time at Moat Cailin. There, we will forge our strategy and prepare to defend the North against any who would seek to subjugate us. Go now, and let the strength of the wolf be known throughout the land."
As the Northern lords began to stir, a sense of grim purpose settling over them as they prepared to depart and heed his commands, Theon Stark spoke once more, his voice barely a whisper."Winter is coming," he murmured, It was a quiet vow, a solemn declaration that the North was prepared for whatever darkness lay ahead.
As Lord Theon's chilling whisper of "Winter is coming" settled over the Great Hall, a hush momentarily fell before erupting into a flurry of hushed, urgent conversations. The lords, their initial outburst of defiance now channeled into grim practicality, settled back onto the long benches, turning to their neighbors and heirs.
The air buzzed with the low murmur of strategic discussions. Experienced lords, their faces etched with the wisdom of past conflicts, began to outline potential threats and necessary preparations. Younger, more eager lords listened intently, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready to prove their mettle.
Lord Manderly, despite his earlier fury, now spoke with a measured tone to his kin, likely discussing the mobilization of the White Harbor fleet and the securing of vital trade routes. Nearby, Lord Umber, his brow furrowed in thought, conferred with his bannermen, no doubt strategizing how best to marshal the fierce warriors of the Last Hearth and secure their southern borders.
Lord Mormont, his gaze sharp and unwavering, issued concise instructions to his heir, likely concerning the defenses of Bear Isle and the readiness of their longships. Lord Karstark, his usual icy demeanor even more pronounced, spoke in low, clipped tones to his sons, undoubtedly planning the mustering of their formidable cavalry.
Throughout the Great Hall, similar discussions unfolded. Lords debated the number of men each house could raise, the availability of arms and armor, and the logistical challenges of moving armies across the vast distances of the North. The urgency of the situation was palpable, yet beneath the tension, there was a current of grim determination, a shared understanding of the gravity of their decision and the fight that lay ahead.
The initial fervor of declaring a king had now given way to the cold, hard realities of preparing for war. The lords of the North, though united in their defiance, understood the immense task before them. The coming conflict would test their strength, their loyalty, and their very survival. The whispers in the Great Hall were the first seeds of the war to come, planted in the ancient stones of Winterfell.
By midday, Winterfell's courtyard echoed with the departure of Northern lords and their retinues, each heading back to their ancestral lands. Lord Manderly rode east towards White Harbor, Lord Umber north to the Last Hearth, and Lord Mormont's party prepared for Bear Isle. Lord Karstark and the lesser lords followed, their farewells brief but resolute. Theon Stark and his sons watched as the last lords disappeared, a quiet determination settling over Winterfell. The call had been answered; the North prepared for war.The solar of Winterfell, now quiet after the departure of the Northern lords, became the Stark family's war room. Lord Theon, Lady Diana, Artor, and Harrion gathered around a large, crudely drawn map of the North, its edges marked with the strategic points that would soon become battlegrounds. The weight of the coming conflict pressed down on them, the air thick with the unspoken understanding of the immense task that lay ahead.
"The lords have answered the call," Theon began, his voice low and steady, "but the true battle begins now. We must utilize every advantage we possess, every secret we have guarded for so long." He gestured towards the map. "Our greatest strength, the one that the South knows nothing of, lies in the skies."
Diana nodded, her gaze firm. "The ice dragons. They are our shield, our deterrent… and our weapon. But they must be used wisely, Theon. We cannot reveal their full power too soon."
Artor, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, spoke with a quiet intensity. "The ships, too. The cannons… and the wolf pack. They will give us a significant edge at sea, but we must coordinate their use with the dragons."
Harrion, ever eager for action, added, "We can't just keep the dragons hidden, Father. Their presence alone will make the South think twice before attacking."
Theon fixed his gaze on Harrion. "Aye. But their full power… that is a card we play only when necessary. The fire dragons of the South are a threat, but our ice dragons are more than a match. We must contain them, not provoke them into a full-scale aerial war from the start."
He then turned back to the map, his fingers tracing a route along the eastern coast. "I have given instructions to Lyrra. She is to make her way to the eastern coast with the three of the four dragons her family have bonded with. Their primary objective is containment. Any fire dragons that approach from the south are to be met and engaged, kept away from our forces and our lands."
"And William ?" Artor asked. "Where does he fit into this?"
"William will come here, to Winterfell," Theon replied. "He and his bonded dragon will secure the castle, our anchor in the storm to come."
He then turned to his sons, his gaze filled with a mixture of pride and concern. "Artor, Harrion… you will take Morgan and move to the western coast. Your task is similar to Lyrra's: containment. Protect our western flank, ensure no southern ships or dragons can slip through unnoticed."
"I will go to Moat Cailin along with the Diana and wolfpack," Theon said, his voice firm. "It is the gateway to the North, and it must be held at all costs. I will be there with my dragon, and Jonnos and his sons, with their dragons, will join me. We will form the vanguard, the first line of defense against any southern advance."
Theon looked at his family, his gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. "This war will be unlike any we have faced before. It will be a war of steel and fire, of ice and blood. But we are the North. We are strong, we are resilient, and we are united. We will not yield. We will not break. We will defend our home, our people, and our way of life."
The Stark family convened in the solar, the war map their focus. Theon detailed Moat Cailin's defenses. Diana stressed logistics and communication. Artor analyzed southern tactics and scouting. Harrion proposed using the wolf pack for raids and intelligence. They strategized dragon deployments, naval use, and maintaining secrecy. Hours passed as they meticulously planned, the weight of war heavy but their resolve united. A Northern strategy began to form within Winterfell's walls.