House Stilwood

Words - Forward Into Oblivion

Sigil - Ebonywood Tree, between two bear paw prints. on a gray background.

I have taken some liberties with travel time and army sizes. These may change in the future, because big battles are pretty awesome. If I do change it, the readers will be told before hand.

A number of OC's litter this story, it's fine if you don't like those. Read it anyway, write a review and tell me how to improve.

This story is a result of my wife and I's combined thoughts and wants to make the story a little different while having some events not truly change.

Sidenote: I am aware that there is a Stilwood (Joss Stilwood) already in the story, this was after I thought of the name. So it may be a plot point later on, or it won't. Who knows.

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They gathered their sworn Lords when the Young Wolf decided to play at war. Aye he would have gone to King's Landing himself to save Lord Stark, after spending 5 years as their ward he had grown to love the man.

It was not to be however, the Squids had thought to raid his and his brother's lands while the North marched South. An island surrounded by Ironborn was hard to defend, but they had been killing them for centuries. They knew their tactics well. A small group of crannogmen were loyal to House Stilwood, helping them in ways of fighting the ironborn off at every step and turn. Truly there were several ways onto the island without sinking in the murky swamplands. There were the three towns Stilwater Island which were Ebony Town, Stilwood Barrow, and Claw Point. All were constructed using the Ebonywood trees that were plentiful on the island. The three keeps on the island were Stilwater Keep, lorded by House Stilwood. Ragged Cove, lorded by Jade Mormont, sister of Jeor Mormont. Her only daughter Alara, wife to Lord Geron Stilwood and mother to Creighton and Criston Stilwood. Roren Glover, a small Cadet Branch of House Glover of Deepwood Motte. Lords over the currently unnamed Keep protecting the central hub of Ebonywood harvesting on the entire island. Both Lord and Lady sworn to House Stilwood.

1300 Ironborn decided to die upon the shores of Stilwood Hall that night, half that his brother's men. Yet their island was large, very large. They could field many men, a third of which were horsed. 4800 soldiers could turn the tide in any battle. That was the most he could take while not leaving the island unguarded. Though the few that remained could hold off a siege for years. His brother after being wounded had told him pledge our Banners to the new King in the North. His first stop was to retake Moat Cailin, to regain back the Young Wolf's honor in trusting a fucking squid.

This was to be his first time commanding such a large amount of men. He was used to giving orders among the battlements while his brother charged through the gate, but this was an army. This was a war, and his brother was to craven to go himself. He could see it in his eyes when he spoke the words.

"Criston, you are to go to the Young Wolf. Pledge yourself to him and make a name for yourself. While I am alive you will inherit nothing, so instead of fighting the squids. Go fight a real army. Prove yourself a man." The words had angered Criston, but he could only nod grimly.

It was his Lord's command, though a brother shouldn't march his only sibling to his death. Criston's grandmother, Lady Jade Mormont had slapped his brother, knocking him to the ground when Creighton told her of his plans.

He would take Moat Cailin from the small Ironborn force stationed there. Leave men to hold it and march to the Twins to join the wedding of Edmure Tully to Roslin Frey. House Stilwood had stayed out of the fighting this long, it was time for them to go to war. He had never met any sort of king before, but a Stark King. He could get used to that.

Though something deep down inside of him feared going to this wedding. He may be young, and no matter to where this war went. He would do his duty. To his family and to avenge Eddard Stark.

It had taken just 6 days to reach the Fever River just 8 miles west of Moat Cailin. Criston had taken it upon himself to use the longships from the Stilwater invasion to bolster his own fleet. Thus when he approached the dozen Ironborn longships they had let down their guard. It was a small battle. There were only enough there to barely guard each ship, and prepare it for a fast getaway if need be.

The soldiers under him respected him, they thirsted for war. They thirsted to avenge the murder of their Liege Lord. A few, including Criston himself, wanted to see how his closest companion would fare in an actual battle, not some lowly raiders.

Winter, his most trusted friend. She thought the same of him, when he slipped into her skin. She was the progeny of a snow bear and a common Mormont Island Grizzly. She was large, very much so. It had taken a ridiculous amount of time for Darrick, the Stilwood Hall blacksmith to create armor for her to wear. Studded leather covered the majority of her body and she had taken to it as a second skin. They were a pair, though many were intimidated, she would not harm a soul unless he said so.

He remembered the times before when his brother had teased him about bedding the bear, since he thought it was the only way to tame one. Creighton also claimed to have bedded their cousin Dacey, oddly enough his brother had come home with only half an ear. Dacey of course only grinned when Criston brought it up.

He had been blooded in the Ironborn invasion and the men respected that, his men. They had very terse words for his brother. The few knights in their service had demanded to leave when the Young Wolf first called to arms, yet Creighton had stayed their blades until Lord Stark was already dead. It took the Ironborn taking Moat Cailin and other northern Keeps for him to finally send soldiers out.

It angered Criston but he was a second son. Perhaps that was why he looked up to Eddard Stark as he did. He wondered how Lord Stark would look upon him now, marching to war to help the man he thought of as a brother. Not the one he was given, but the one he chose.

It had taken just half a day to march to Moat Cailin, the black Ebonytree on a silver background with two snarling bear heads was his personal sigil. He would have had more of them made but his brother had forbade it. Damn that pride of his. He smiled softly to himself as he saw the black lizard lion of House Reed, they had already made the camp a mile from the fort itself. He remembered meeting Lord Howland Reed for the first time when he had visited Winterfell, he was small man, but he was a man who knew his duty. He had respect for the man, his first words to him were few but Howland Reed was a man of few words.

He had been a solemn child, known for bouts of melancholy. His time playing with Meera Reed had helped him some, yet he was as solemn as a Stark. Ser Rodrik would make sure to tell him that often enough.

He had gathered his host and dispersed them to create camps and settle for the night. He was lucky enough to only have injured men from the brief battle, but that would be the last time.

He spotted Lord Reed with several of his loyal retainers, he spied the sigils of Houses Boggs, Greengoods, Crays, and Marshes. They seemed to not be led by their Lords, not that Criston could recall their names anyway. As the only three lords Criston, Lord Roren Glover and Lord Howland Reed commanded from inside of one of the larger tent.

Lord Reed was already waiting inside, with a map of troop movements and of the surrounding area.

A smile grew on Criston's face. "I am glad to see you hale, Lord Reed."

Howland looked up and met his gaze. "Lord Stilwood, I am glad you have finally joined us." He did not say it in an angry way, yet the accusation was there.

Criston's eyes turned to steel in that moment, "I am not the Lord of my house. If it were up to me, I would have marched unto King's Landing and taken the head of that Bastard King. We were beset upon by a large force of Ironborn, yet my brother did not heed the call. I did." His voice was deeper than Howland remembered, with the steel of a northern lord. Despite the harsh words Howland smiled.

"Yes you did. Forgive me words, Criston. I had to make sure you have grown from the shy boy hiding behind my daughter's skirt. You are certainly your father's son and the pride of your mother's house." He clasped Criston at the shoulder and give him a hug.

Criston had a small smile on his face, "I should have known," Roren gave a slight cough to remind them of him still being here. "Lord Reed, this is Roren Glover. Protector of Ebonywood and smiter of krakens."

"Funny Criston, Lord Reed it is an honor." Roren held out his gloved hand and Howland took it.

"A pleasure, my lord," He paused for a moment and a grave look came upon his face.

"Shall we begin?

The next morning Lord Reed had received two ravens, one from Deepwood Motte and Winterfell. He could Criston and Roren together for a meeting before the battle begun. When they entered Lord Reed had a grim look.

"What has happened?" Criston asked, adjusted the mail shirt he was wearing and straightened himself at the tone of his words.

"Deepwood Motte has fallen to Asha Greyjoy, Robette's wife and children have been taken hostage. The maester had given his life to allow the guard time to send the raven off safely." Ignoring Roren's gasp and curses he opened the other note. His hand began to shake.

"Winterfell has fallen to Theon Greyjoy." Criston's eyes grew wide and he slammed his fist unto the table.

"Any word of the boys? Of Meera and Jojen!" He almost screamed at the man.

"Meera and Jojen are missing, Rickon and Brandon have been killed. Burned until black. It appears Maester Luwin had managed to send this off as well… Ser Rodrik beheaded. Grim news."

"Dark wings, dark words." Criston said quietly, gripping the pommel of his sword so tight his bones popped and cracked. "What is our move? You are the oldest here, Lord Reed. I am not a lord yet, so command falls unto you."

"Criston, you are of the north. You are a Lord. Eddard Stark was there to teach you how to be a man when your father was not, may the Gods bless both of their souls." Howland grew silent for a moment, as if contemplating his words carefully. "You will lead this battle. If I sense anything wrong with the plan of battle you wish to take I will take over."

Criston looks at Howland, and then to Roren who gave a nod. "On Ned's honor, I will protect the North from its enemies. I swear it by the Old Gods." Howland smiled

"Good, so what is your plan?"

"We will do this in the cover of night, hour of the wolf would be best."

"Aye, they seem to gather in the open courtyards at around that time for general merrymaking. Naturally we have resisted on capitalizing on this for such a time as this. The water has been poisoned, but easily neutralised. I've had my fellow crannogmen pick off the ones on the battlements. I'd say it's likely they are wasting from water shortage, though we have not introduced any sort of disease for the safety of our future garrison."

"Good, we'll wait until that time. We can create a commotion to draw even more of then out. Lord Reed will choose that time to attack, blanketing the courtyard with arrows. Hopefully that goes the way we want. We were lucky enough to have just missed Victarion Greyjoy, or else this would have been a bloody battle." He paused, rubbing the growing beard on his face. "Lord Reed can have some of his men sneak inside and open the Causeway gates, then we will storm it." Roren nodded slowly, it was a simple enough plan but there was hardly 700 Ironborn awaiting inside. Lord Reed continued to stare at Criston, as if awaiting more.

Criston sighs, "Should we give them the chance to surrender?"

Roren shook his head, "There is no point to it, they wouldn't if they wanted to."

Howland spoke softly, "Aye, but it is important to ask. Nobody should send men to die without a peaceful resolution."

"I understand, Lord Reed. I will go under the white banner myself. I will take Winter and discuss terms of surrender with their commander." Roren and Howland both nodded, "It will only be Winter and I. Nobody else of high birth."

Roren wanted to speak but Howland stopped him with a gesture of his hand. "Good, go immediately. We await your return."

Thus there he was, riding atop his raven colored war horse. Winter trotted beside him at a sedate place, she seemed peaceful on the outside but she was hoping for blood. He was ashamed to admit that he was to. Even though he had earned some sort of respect from the men following him, he still felt a green boy. This would go either way and he did not mind it.

He had arrived quickly, white banner held high as six men carrying the sigil of the kraken and of a hand that had lightning bolts coming from the tips of it's fingers. He had no recollection of the sigil but he did remember seeing it on several raiding parties when the Ironborn attacked in force.

They were a mere twenty feet apart, the six men keeping their distance out of precaution. Winter did her job well, licking at her paw while sitting on her haunches.

"I am Criston of House Stilwood, I lead the host just a mile away as you have seen. I have come to carry terms of surrender in Robb Stark's name."

"I am Ralf of House Kenning, chosen as castellan of the garrison by under the Lord Captain Victarion's orders. What are your terms?" The other men look at him sharply but they understand with a sharp look.

"We had word that a group of two thousand raiders were here, where are they?"

"The fool's marched south through bog devil territory. Died slow deaths, I imagine."

"I see, as such I will offer your men safe passage to your ships. Leave the North and return to your keep. I do not expect you to keep your word to leave my home and Northern Shores in peace but you will not hold Moat Cailin. If you do not agree I will put every man under your command to the sword. You are low on supplies, you cannot leave the walls or you will be poisoned. This is a generous offer. Leave now and never return." Criston had a grave look, he was a man grown. Threatening men many times his age would probably not work but he could hope.

"You speak big for a green boy. I was given a command and to surrender to some greenlander shit like you would shame my house. My boy Harrik took his first salt-wife at before he was even a man. Commands his own ship while only being a year or two older than you. Yet you deem yourself man enough to command me?"

Criston laughed softly to himself, "Aye, now I remember that banner. Your son, black of hair and blue eyes. Aye I know him. Sword through his belly after he thought to climb our walls." He seemed to remember he was talking to the boys' father. "He passed quickly, I promise you that. After he fell it broke the spirit of the rest of the ones raiding. I allowed them to take his bones as they retreated." As he finished speaking he noticed Ralf gripping the pommel of his sword tightly.

Through gnashed teeth, "Why should I give peace to the man that killed my son? Why would you allow an invading force to take their lord's son back?"

"Honor. My father and Eddard Stark taught me the necessity of honor while they taught me how to be ruthless to my enemies. My father was slain at the Siege of Pyke. His bones were only returned due to Eddard Stark's command, not Robert Baratheon's. We fight, we war, and we die. But allowing the father's to bury the sons and the sons to bury the father, allows a begrudging respect to be formed. Make no mistake my Lord, we are enemies. You have invaded my home, I cannot let such a thing go. Yet it is within my power to allow your men to leave. I implore you to take my offer."

"You speak like a man beyond your years. I was told to hold this death trap, and I shall. Aye, many of us knew Geron Stilwood. A fierce man, some feared him. Many respected him. He was more of an Ironborn than half of this lot, yet he is dead. I see the same steel in you, boy." He looked at the others and nodded, "I cannot surrender to you. Good luck, boy."

Criston looked at him, then to Winter who seemed to even nod back. "Then let us settle this the old way. You and I, we are the only ones who have to die. I may be young, but I do not wish for my men to die for this folly. We will allow them to return peacefully."

Ralf sighed deeply, yet he understood the boy's words. "I can make terms with that, on the morrow we will duel. On the possibility of my death, my men will march out of the Causeway and will return to our ships on the Fever River."

"In the event of my death, my men will go on their way to The Twins, after the wedding they will march back. After that I cannot guarantee the King will spare your lives, though I can spare them for under a month. That is the most I can do." Criston hopped down from his horse, he was a similar height to Ralf. They clasped hands in a spoken agreement.

"I will see you on the morrow." Criston said and left to return back to his tent.

He must first fight for his men, before he expects them to fight for him. It was selfish but this was his chance to prove himself. That was a value Ned had taught him, and he would honor the memory of the man he had wished was his father.