The yard was silent except for the sound of steel being checked and boots scraping dirt. I stood waiting, the weight of the mont settling on my shoulders. This was no battlefield — this was judgnt.
The other side had chosen their champion. A knight. Probably famous sowhere, but I couldn't care less.
"At least give armor," the man sneered. "Or are you planning to kill a knight bare as a peasant and call it a trial?"
"You're a prisoner of the North," I said evenly. "And this trial will be by Northern tradition. No armor for either of us. Pick whatever weapon you think will save your life."
He didn't like it, but he had no choice.
When the fight began, I could tell in the first few exchanges he was good — good enough for a tourney maybe, not for . He lunged, I parried. Steel clanged and slid. I read his style after a few passes. The mont his guard slipped, my sword ca down in one clean stroke. His head hit the ground before his body did.
It wasn't worth telling as a grand tale. The fight was over almost before it began.
---
The rest were brought forward, kneeling in the cold dirt before . Their eyes were defiant, frightened, or dead already.
"In the na of Lord Eddard of House Stark, Lord Paramount of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I, Artos of House Stark — Acting Commander of the Northern Army — sentence you to die. If you have last words, speak them now."
None did.
One by one, steel bit into flesh and bone. Quick work. We had no ti to linger; war waits for no man's conscience.
---
Later, I was in the sky. Not with wings of my own, but through Rick — my eagle. Nad after my father.
The wind tore through his feathers, and my sight swept across leagues of land. It was freedom, but dangerous freedom — too easy to lose myself in him if I wasn't careful.
That's when I saw them. King's Landing banners. Crownlands n on the march. Not a massive host, but enough — ten thousand at most — moving toward Stony Sept. Robert was there with only three thousand. He'd be crushed.
I snapped back into myself, heart pounding.
---
"My lords," I told the Northern council, "prepare your n. We march at once."
They stared at — surprise, irritation.
"What's happened?" Lord Karstark demanded.
"King's n are moving on Stony Sept," I said.
"Where did you hear this? Can we trust it?"
"You'll have to take my word for it," I answered sharply. "We move now. I'll send word to my brother — we'll crush them between us."
Jeor Mormont spoke up. "We still have wounded."
"Then the wounded stay," I said. "Lord Rogar, Lord Wyman — you'll hold here with three, four thousand at most. The rest — seven thousand — ride with . The Crownlands force isn't large. We'll break them."
There were no more argunts.
---
I wrote the letter for Ned, tied it to Rick's leg, and warged into him, guiding him through the air to find my brother.
---
Eddard Stark
We were marching with five thousand Northn. I rode among the heirs of our bannern — they'd have to learn war sooner or later.
Then I saw him. A great eagle, arrow-fast, cutting through the sky. One of my archers loosed a shot, but the bird twisted away with impossible speed, then landed before .
It had a letter bound to its leg.
I raised a hand to hold my n back, untied the scroll, and read it. Artos's hand. His warning. His plan.
The bird watched with unsettling eyes. I muttered, half-joking, "Will you wait a bit, boy?"
It nodded.
I froze for a heartbeat, then called for a ssenger. "Send word to Lord Arryn and Ser Tully — I need them now. And feed this eagle. No one touches a feather on him."
When they arrived, I told them straight: "The King's army is moving on Stony Sept. Ten thousand n."
Jon Arryn let out a breath. "Better than we feared. How did you learn of this?"
"My brother sent word."
"And how did he reach you?" Ser Blackfish asked, baffled.
"He sent… an eagle."
They stared.
"We can discuss that later. His plan is to hit them from behind while we press from the front. A hamr and anvil. It'll work."
Jon Arryn nodded. "It's sound."
"But I think we can do better," I said. "We're close enough to set a trap at the entrance to Stony Sept. Northn and Valen will hold the choke point. We let them push, then Northern archers cut them down. When they're broken, Artos riders crash into them. Ser Blackfish's n sweep up the stragglers from sides . Fewer of ours die, more of theirs don't get back up."
They agreed without hesitation.
"It will give them no place to retreat and will be killed fast and effectively." Ser Blackfish.
I penned my reply to Artos, tied it to the eagle, and sent him back into the sky.
---
Jon Connington
Ten thousand n at my back, loyal to the dragon banner. The King had given this chance .He will kill Robert Baratheon and prove my worth to the Prince.
We were close to Stony Sept. If they didn't yield, I'd burn the place to the ground. I will kill that Rebel bastard with my own hands.
---
Artos Stark
We shadowed the Crownlands column, keeping just far enough that they wouldn't see us.
Rick returned, dropping into my arm. I fed him jerky before untying Ned's reply. I read it, smiled. My brother would make a fine commander.
I called the lords together.
"My lords, new orders from Lord Eddard. Lord Reed — ready the archers. You'll control their fire. We'll cut into them first, then charge with the riders. The Northn and Valen will draw them toward us, straight into our kill zone."
Every head nodded. Ned's plan was cleaner, safer, deadlier.
And in war, that's all that mattered.
I explained them the whole plan.
---
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