50 AC
Winterfell
The year turned, and a new year dawned upon the North, bringing with it not the promise of spring's thaw but the chilling winds of war. Ravens had flown from Winterfell to every corner of the vast land, carrying Brandon Stark's summons. Now, the lords of the North had gathered within the ancient walls, their banners a somber display in the courtyard, their faces etched with the grim determination that mirrored their liege lord's. They had come to answer the call, to discuss the plan against Skagos.
Inside the Great Hall, the atmosphere was thick with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. At the high table, Brandon Stark sat in the main seat, the weight of his new lordship heavy upon him. To his right sat his son, Theon, a seasoned warrior whose presence offered a measure of grim comfort. To his left was his other son, Jonnos Sköll, the newly appointed Lord of Moat Cailin, his expression as hard and unyielding as the fortress he now commanded. Below them, at the long tables stretching across the vast hall, the lords of the North sat in their places, the air buzzing with low conversation as they discussed the coming conflict amongst themselves.
A hush fell over the hall as Brandon Stark rose to his feet. His voice, though weary from the recent loss of his father, carried the authority of generations of Stark rulers. "My lords," he began, his gaze sweeping across the assembled faces, "for too long, we have neglected Skagos. They have declined our summons, ignored our authority, and forgotten the obligations they owe to Winterfell. I say we remind them who their liege lord is."
The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with unspoken resolve. Then, a chorus of voices, deep and resonant, filled the hall. "Aye," the lords agreed, their voices echoing the sentiment, a united front forged in the face of defiance.
Brandon Stark continued, his voice ringing with the steel of command. "To that end, I require that every lord commit one-quarter of their soldiers to this endeavor. My son, Theon," he declared, gesturing to his right, "will be Lord Commander of this army. And I call upon all second sons to participate in this war, so they may earn merit and renown." His gaze swept across the hall, a reminder of past grievances and present resolve. "We may have enjoyed peaceful times," he concluded, his voice resonating with ancient power, "but winter is coming."
A murmur of assent rippled through the hall, a collective nod of agreement from the assembled lords.
Then, Theon rose to address the assembly. "My lords," he announced, his voice clear and commanding, "all soldiers are to convene at Widow's Watch in three moons' time. From there, we shall set sail for Skagos." He turned his gaze towards a portly lord seated at one of the tables. "Lord Manderly, I entrust the preparation of one hundred ships and the necessary supplies to you. If you require anything, anything at all, do not hesitate to come to me."
Lord Manderly, a shrewd look in his eyes, inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It shall be done, Lord Commander," he affirmed, his voice booming with confidence.
Theon's gaze swept across the hall, his expression hardening with a warrior's resolve. "We will hit them hard," he declared, his voice ringing with authority, "before they even know what has happened."
And with those words, the tense silence in the Great Hall dissolved into a flurry of renewed conversation. The lords of the North, their course now set, began to discuss the logistics of raising their men, the details of the coming campaign, and the long-overdue reckoning with the wildlings of Skagos.
Three moons had passed since the gathering at Winterfell. Now, at Widow's Watch, the soldiers of the North had convened, a formidable host ready to set sail. A war council was underway, the air thick with anticipation and the scent of salt and sea. Theon presided over the meeting, the main seat befitting his role as Lord Commander. To his right sat his brother, Jonnos Sköll, and to his left, the imposing figure of Ned Umber.
Around the table, their gazes fixed on the meticulously detailed maps spread before them, stood Rickon Karstark, Karlon Dustin, Osric Glover, and Ronnel Bolton. Each lord, in turn, offered his opinion, the discussion a lively mix of tactical assessments and strategic proposals, as they debated the best way to strike at Skagos.
Theon: (Tracing a finger across the map of Skagos) "So, as we can see, the island is rugged, the coastline treacherous. Landing a large force in one go will be difficult. Lord Karstark, your thoughts?"
Rickon Karstark: (Leaning closer to the map) "Lord Commander, I believe we should divide our forces. Smaller landing parties at multiple points along the western coast. It will stretch their defenses thin and prevent them from concentrating their strength."
Karlon Dustin: (Shaking his head) "That's too risky, Karstark. We'll be vulnerable, picked off piecemeal before we can establish a proper foothold. A concentrated assault on a single, defensible bay is the only way. Strength in numbers."
Osric Glover: (His brow furrowed) "But which bay, Lord Dustin? Their settlements are scattered. A direct attack on one might leave others free to raid our supply lines."
Ronnel Bolton: (His voice low and measured) "Perhaps a feint? Make it appear as though we intend to land in the north, drawing their warriors away from the south. Then, our main force strikes where they least expect it."
Jonnos Sköll: (Slamming a fist lightly on the table) "Enough with the cautious whispers! They're wildlings, not seasoned soldiers. We land with force, show them the might of the North, and they'll break."
Ned Umber: (His voice a deep rumble) "Skoll has a point, Lord Commander. We cannot appear hesitant. But we also cannot be reckless. We need a plan that combines strength with cunning."
Theon: (Nodding slowly, listening intently to each contribution) "These are all valid points. Lord Manderly's scouts have provided us with some intelligence regarding potential landing sites and the disposition of their… inhabitants. Lord Glover, what did your men glean from those reports regarding the terrain?"
Osric Glover: "The western coast is indeed rocky, Lord Commander, but there are a few coves large enough to land a significant number of ships. However, they are likely to be heavily defended."
Rickon Karstark: "Which reinforces my point about multiple landings. They can't defend everywhere at once."
Karlon Dustin: "And spreads our forces too thin! We need to punch through their defenses, establish a secure base, and then move inland."
The debate continued, each lord advocating for their preferred strategy, the weight of the impending invasion heavy in the air.
The debate continued, each lord advocating for their preferred strategy, the weight of the impending invasion heavy in the air.
Finally, Theon raised his hand, silencing the room. "My lords," he said, his voice firm and decisive, "I believe I have a plan that incorporates the strengths of our arguments." He spread his hands over the map, his gaze sweeping across the assembled lords. "We will divide our forces into three divisions."
"I will lead one force," Theon declared, pointing to a location on the western coast, "to Driftwood Hall. My brother, Jonnos, will accompany me." He then gestured to Ned Umber. "Lord Umber, you will lead your division to Kingswood, along with Lord Osric Glover." Finally, he indicated the remaining lords. "Lord Karstark, you will lead the last division to Deepdown, and Lords Dustin and Bolton will be under your command."
A chorus of "Aye" echoed around the war council table. The lords of the North, their initial reservations addressed, now stood united behind Theon's strategy.
Theon nodded, his gaze sweeping across the determined faces before him. "After the battle is over," he stated, "we will meet again in Deepdown, to consolidate our gains and decide the future of Skagos."
With the plan decided, the lords began to file out of the war room, the weight of the coming battle settling heavily on their shoulders. Each man departed for his individual quarters, where they would see to the final preparations for the invasion of Skagos.
Soon, only Theon and Jonnos remained, the echoes of the council's deliberations fading into the quiet hum of the sea breeze outside.
Jonnos broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. "Well, that's settled then," he said, the usual hard edge in his voice softening slightly. "Skagos it is."
Theon nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Aye. Skagos. It's been a long time coming." He paused, a more personal note entering his voice. "How are your sons, Torrhen and Alaric?"
Jonnos's stern face softened slightly. "They're well. Torrhen is proving to be a natural with the blade, much like his uncle," he said, gesturing towards Theon. "Alaric, though... he's more inclined to books and maps. A quiet lad, but with a sharp mind."
Theon chuckled. " Morgan is much the same. Give her a sword, and she'll wield it with a ferocity that would make a grown man think twice. But she also has her mother's love for stories and songs."
"A balance is good," Jonnos agreed. "Torrhen could use a bit of Alaric's thoughtfulness, and Alaric could benefit from Torrhen's... enthusiasm."
"You make them sound like two sides of the same coin," Theon observed. "Much like us, in a way."
Jonnos grunted in agreement. "Perhaps. And what of Artor and young Harrion? Are they showing any promise?"
"Artor is eager to follow in my footsteps," Theon replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "He's already showing a keen interest in strategy and command. Harrion... well, he's still young, but he has a stubborn streak that will serve him well, I think."
"A good northern stubbornness," Jonnos said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "It's a trait that has seen us through many a harsh winter and many a hard battle."
"Indeed," Theon agreed. "And Diana... she keeps them both grounded. She has a way with them, a patience I sometimes lack."
"She's a good woman," Jonnos acknowledged. "Strong, capable... everything a Stark wife should be."
"She is," Theon said, his voice softening with affection. "And she's made me a better man than I ever thought I could be."
"A good northern stubbornness," Jonnos said, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "It's a trait that has seen us through many a harsh winter and many a hard battle."
"Indeed," Theon agreed. "They're the future of the North. We have to make sure there's a North worth inheriting." He paused, then his gaze turned thoughtful, focusing on a point beyond the room. "Which brings me to another matter... I've been giving some thought to the future of the North's defenses, beyond Skagos."
Jonnos raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And what thoughts have you been having, brother?"
"I believe it's time we established a proper western fleet," Theon declared. "Our strength has always been in the east, with our control of the Bite and the trade routes. But the west coast... it's vulnerable. Too reliant on the scattered ships of our bannermen."
Jonnos considered this, stroking his beard. "A fleet... it would be a costly endeavor. And where would we base it? Moat Cailin?"
Theon shook his head. "Too far inland. We'd need a port. Perhaps expand the harbor at Sea Dragon Point? It's centrally located, and the land there could support a proper shipyard."
"Sea Dragon Point..." Jonnos mused. "It has potential. But the logistics... the cost of building and maintaining such a fleet..."
"It would be an investment," Theon conceded. "But a necessary one. Think of the advantages, Jonnos. We could project our power further, deter raiders from the Iron Islands, open up new trade routes to the west... even explore further south, beyond the Sunset Sea."
"Ambitious," Jonnos admitted, a hint of admiration in his voice. "But you're right. We can't afford to be complacent. The world is changing, and the North must adapt."
"Exactly," Theon said, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with purpose. "And a strong western fleet would not only protect us, it would also give our second sons a new avenue for glory and advancement. Not all of them are destined to be lords, but they all deserve a chance to prove their worth."
Theon's gaze held a spark of determination. "It's a long-term vision," he acknowledged, "but one I believe is vital for the future security and prosperity of the North."
Jonnos nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "It's something to consider, brother. Something to discuss with Father when this Skagos business is concluded." He paused, then a rare smile touched his lips. "You always were the ambitious one."
Theon chuckled, the sound echoing in the now-quiet room. "And you, the pragmatic one. That's why we make such a good team." He clapped Jonnos on the shoulder. "But for now, let's get some rest. We have a war to plan, and I want my head clear."
Jonnos agreed. "Aye. Rest is wise."
And with that, the two brothers, their conversation drawing to a close, finally rose and made their way to their respective chambers, the weight of the coming conflict and the seeds of future ambitions settling upon them as they sought a few hours of respite before the dawn.
A/n: I have removed the part were diana says she will join the war in previous chapter