Artos Stark
My army was approaching the Vale war camp. Scouts had already inford —Ned was here. Thank the gods. The North would et its new lord, and Ned could finally stand among the Northern banners where he belonged.
As we reached the gates, Ned waited for us. I dismounted from Snow and strode to him.
I didn't hesitate. I wrapped him in a firm embrace.
"I missed you, brother."
" too, Arty... too," Ned murmured.
I pulled back, arching a brow. "I'm not a child anymore, Ned. Too old for that na."
The Northern lords chuckled, watching our reunion with smirks and amusent.
Then I turned and raised my hand. One of my n stepped forward, carrying a long-wrapped object. I took it gently, unwrapping the cloth.
Ice.
The Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark, handed down through centuries. I dropped to one knee and held it up.
"For the new Lord of Winterfell."
Every Northern lord present—kneeled alongside . All, save for the mountain clans and Skagosi, who stood silent but respectful. They do not kneel. They never have.
Ned took the sword, unsheathed it, and let out a breath.
"Stand up, all of you. Before the ground gets too uncomfortable."
I rose, and so did the rest. Ice glead in his hands, dark ripples dancing in the tal.
---
In the War Camp
The great tent was packed. Lords from the Vale and North sat around a long table as maps were unfurled and strategy discussed.
Jon Arryn spoke first. "How many n did the North bring? It's more than we expected."
"We have about twenty-five thousand," Lord Rogar Umber replied.
Ned blinked. "That many? I thought the North would struggle with winter coming. You need n in the fields."
"Aye, we would've," Rogar said, "but the Skagosi joined us. And the Greybeards too."
I added, "I only took five thousand from Winterfell lands. Benjen's still there, drilling more n—arming them, training them. If this war drags on, we'll have reinforcents."
Ned looked stunned. "You got the Skagosi to answer the call?"
"I went there myself. Settled it by the old ways. Duel in the shield circle. I won. They followed."
He stared at for a long mont.
"I don't know whether to scold you or praise you."
"I'll take praise. I earned it."
"Aye praise to be a fool"
"But the Greybeards?" he asked. "Was that truly necessary?"
I t his gaze. "Ned, I know your sense of honor and rcy. But we are Northn. We fight hard. The Greybeards wanted to fight. They want to die as warriors, not rot in so hall. It's their choice, their way. Don't dishonor it."
Ned nodded, reluctant but understanding.
---
Jon Arryn shifted the topic.
"Our plan is to march to Riverrun. Secure Lord Hoster Tully's alliance. We need the Riverlands."
"Then that ans Ned..." I trailed off.
He gave a quiet smile. "Aye. I'll take Brandon's place. I'll marry Lady Catelyn."
The room fell respectfully silent for a mont.
"You're certain?" I asked.
"The Starks have done their duty for eight thousand years," Ned said. "I will do mine."
A few Northern lords exchanged approving glances. Impressed by Ned's Resolve
"Well... I hear she's beautiful. That's so comfort, at least," I said with a smirk.
Ned chuckled.
Things got more serious.
I leaned over the table.
"We don't have ti for long betrothals. The Reach will already be harassing Robert. He needs support."
"True," Ned agreed. "But we can't abandon Riverrun. Their armies are vital. I have a plan."
He stood, drawing lines on the map. "Artos, take the Northern host. March south into the Reach. Put pressure on their supply lines. Robert will attack from the front. You'll strike from behind. They'll be caught in a vice."
"And the Crownlands?" Lord Royce asked.
"They won't mobilize fast enough. By the ti they do, we'll have Riverrun's n and be moving east to hit the Reach again from behind. They won't know where to turn."
The tent murmured with approval. Even the Vale lords nodded in respect.
"A sound plan," I said. "I'll leave five thousand n with you, Ned—for escort and security. Lord Cerwyn will command them."
"Aye," said Cerwyn, rising. "It would be my honor to stay beside the Lord of Winterfell."
"My sister Maege will also stay behind. She's a fierce fighter. She'll keep your head on your shoulders," Jeor Mormont added.
"The heirs of each house will remain too," I said. "It will forge bonds between our houses—and secure the future."
Everyone nodded.
"Where's the brother I used to know?" Ned asked with a grin. "Hot-headed, reckless, always picking fights. Now you talk like a war chief."
Laughter rang through the tent.
Ned had earned their respect, not by na—but by nature and actions.
That night, we finalized our strategy, then rested.
Tomorrow, we would move.
---
March to the Reach
I was riding ahead of the Northern army. We'd be heading south to support Robert's forces.
Never thought I'd be aiding that womanizing brute who once begged to wed my sister.
Robert was... tolerable. Brave, even. But he wasn't worthy of Lyanna. Still, this was war. Ned had given the order. And he was Lord of Winterfell now.
I followed.
"Well, looks like I'll be stuck marching with old n for moons," I muttered.
"Old?" barked Rogar Umber. "We're in our bloody pri!"
"Speak for yourself!" Tallhart snorted.
The lords all grumbled and groaned.
I smirked and gave them a smug look. They growled louder.
---
The Reach Lords
Lord Mace Tyrell rode at the head of his army—thirty-five thousand strong.
But word had already reached him—Lord Tarly had defeated Robert Baratheon at Ashford and moved to besiege Storm's End.
One Reach lord grumbled, "The battle's done. The glory goes to Tarly. We'll just be sitting at a siege like fat hens."
"He'll take all the credit. We'll be footnotes in a maester's scroll," said another.
Then ca news—Northern forces were marching into the Reach.
"They must be coming to aid Robert," soone said. "But they don't know he's already lost."
"We outnumber them. Thirty-five thousand to maybe twenty thousand. We could crush them before they even know what's coming."
Mace Tyrell considered it—and smiled.
"We ride. Let's show the North what it ans to challenge the Reach."
---
Howland Reed
I am not with Lord Ned—not yet.
Artos sent south. Crannogn are quiet as cats and fast as foxes. Scouts of the Neck. That's what we do.
And it was good that he did.
I saw them.
Thirty-five thousand Reachn. Marching fast. Right into the path of the Northern host.
I turned and ran, faster than the wind.
The North needed to know.
Or they would die in the fields of the Reach, alone and outnumbered.
---
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