A/N: I was supposed to post this earlier this week, but a work schedule change due to Memorial Day, and watching the Critical Role C2 finale wrecked my body and mind. I am still feeling a little weak physically and emotionally.

Anyways, enjoy the show!

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

Winterfell, the North (284 AC)

Convincing Maester Luwin to let them borrow a few ravens was easier than Arthos expected. The old scholar was happy to oblige them, providing four of the most well-trained and well-behaved of the black birds. Two of them were calmly perched on Kiara's shoulder and head, and the other two were sitting in a cage, nipping at Arthos' fingers.

"I don't think these birds like me," he muttered as the birds started scratching him more.

Kiara giggled at him, one hand holding an empty cage. "That's because they want to get out. They'll behave once we're at the heart tree."

They entered the godswood again, still dark despite the sun hanging high in the sky, and made their way to the heart tree. Arthos opened the cage and let the rest of the ravens out, watching as the birds circled the weirwood before landing on the branches.

Kiara started ruffling through her satchel, bringing out five smooth, palm-sized stones, carved with runes. She handed four of them to Arthos, keeping the largest one with herself. "Place these around the roots, then I can begin."

Arthos nodded, taking the runecarved stones. They had learned a lot about the ancient runes of the First Men and the children of the forest. With Arthos previous research, the guidance of Kiara's vision and some advice from Kovissa, Kiara had learned that they needed to combine several runes to form a sigil. Sigils were symbols of power that could be combined to create a spell array. There were three types of sigils they could create this way; a core, an expression, and an accent.

The core sigil determines the type of magic, such as Fire, Frost, or Stone. The expression sigil determines how that core shapes itself into the world - such as a flickering flame from the hand, or frost enchanting a weapon. There are several categories of sigils that can accent a spell, granting it greater range, power, or providing bonus secondary effects.

Arthos surmised that was why the hammer of the waters failed at the Neck. The children used a simpler version; less powerful than the runestones empowered by the ritual they'd seen in the green. He didn't know why the children did not use the ritual. Perhaps they didn't have time, or perhaps they had lost all their greenseers at the time.

The main stone that Kiara kept was the focal point, and held the central array. On it were the core sigil of Life, the expression sigil of Influential Domain, and the accent sigil of Limitless Boundaries. The other stones had the core sigil of Life, the expression sigil of Focused Intent, and the accent sigil of Reaching Grasps. In theory, the main array would enrich the lands around fifty leagues around Winterfell, and the others would extend the effect further beyond.

That's the hope, Arthos thought as he placed the four stones in the cardinal directions. There's no telling what will happen when we mess with ancient magic.

He could hear Kiara whispering to herself, as she pulled out the dragonglass dagger that Arthos had given her. Her eyes started rolling up as the ravens on the trees stilled. They looked like someone had stuffed them. Then, as one, they opened their beaks and started to sing in a strange, and hauntingly beautiful tongue. The True Tongue.

Arthos watched, captivated, as Kiara drew the blade across her arm. Blood pulsed out, dripping down onto the ground around the runestone. The droplets snaked their way towards the central runestone, seeping into the carvings and giving power to the sigils.

Soon the ritual was finished, and now they had several amber-covered runestones. Arthos gathered them up and brought them over to Kiara, who was bandaging up her arm. She held up the focal stone to her face, examining it closely.

"Now what?" Arthos asked.

"I'm not sure," Kiara murmured honestly. "The children in my vision took these away. I think they were planning to use them elsewhere."

She stared at the amber in her hand, deep in thought. Then, as if a candle had lit up in her mind, she walked towards the heart tree and placed the runestone on the mouth on the carved face.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the wood began to creak as its mouth opened wide and swallowed the stone.

Arthos and Kiara both let out a screech and jumped back. They watched as a small faint green glow come from the bark of the tree, flowing down into its roots, and deep into the earth. There was a gust of wind that sounded like laughter, as the ground seemed to shift the settle once more. The colors of the leaves seemed more vibrant.

Arthos took a deep breath. The air felt cleaner. "I think it worked," he whispered in amazement.

Kiara knelt down and placed a hand on the ground, letting her senses travel through the packed earth and the surrounding lands. She looked up at Arthos with a smile. "It did. I can feel the strength of life growing in the earth. The effect seems to go for about four leagues around the heart tree."

Arthos stared at Kiara in delight and slight disappointment. It seemed the array was not as limitless as they had thought. Then he remembered the other stones in his hands. He glanced at the heart tree, then the stones he held. A grin crept up across his face. "Do you think the weirwood wants more treats?"

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

In the end, the range of the sigil array, which Kiara had named "Restore", had reached for about fifteen leagues. They tried increasing the range with more runestones, but the heart tree wouldn't take it. It seemed they had found a limit. Arthos realized they would have to place the runestones around all of the heart trees in the north to cover everywhere in the Restore array's sphere of influence.

The effects were not subtle, but they were lessened as the harvest had already begun. Farmers around Winterfell and the northern edge of Cerwyn lands were surprised by the sudden increase in their yields for the remaining non-harvested fields. The smallfolk whispered that it was a blessing from the old gods, a sign of favor for the new Lord of Winterfell's first harvest. They were only slightly correct.

Needless to say, the people were happier. This was the state the lords of the North found the winter town in as they arrived for the feast. They came in batches, most brought their family along, though a few came just with their retinue of guards and servants. A few brought their own bards and other entertainers as well.

Arthos greeted them as they arrived. Lord Medger and Ser Helman were both respectful when they came, though Lord Medger was a little too keen for Arthos to spend time with his daughter, who was ten years older than Arthos. Lords Wiliam and Howland were both ecstatic to see him again, though you could hardly tell with the quiet crannogman. Lord William's wife, Lady Barbrey, kept looking wistfully at Arthos, which made the young lord a little uncomfortable.

The rest of the lords were more stoic, and kept their opinions to themselves. Except for Lord Umber. The Greatjon wouldn't know the meaning of quiet if it came up and punched him in the face. He would probably enjoy being punched in the face, if only because he'd have a reason to punch back.

Arthos spent the early days of the week before the feast speaking privately with his vassals, putting his plans in action. The young lord used one of the lessons he'd forgotten from his previous life; something he learned as a senator in New Rome: how to delegate.

Lord Wyman reminded him of this during their meeting. Arthos had met with the lord of White Harbor first to discuss his plans for the North. While cautious to divulge everything to an unknown quantity, Ned spoke highly of Lord Manderly.

"Welcome, Lord Wyman," Arthos greeted as the Warden of the White Knife entered his solar. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, my lord," Wyman said jovially, as he struggled to sit down on one of the chairs that were too small for him. "Remaining on my feet has started to become a little tedious these days."

I don't doubt it, Arthos thought. Lord Wyman was the fattest man he had ever seen. The man was easily around twenty-one stone.

"So," Lord Wyman sighed as he found a good position to sit in. "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes," Arthos straightened in his seat. "I need your advice. House Manderly has been the richest family in the North for centuries, not only for your silver mines but for your shrewdness in economics. I have many plans for the North, and the first few have recently hit some complications. I would like to hear your thoughts on how I may fix my mistakes, and do things better."

"You flatter me, my lord. I would be quite happy to assist my liege in their endeavors. Please, tell me of your plans."

And so, Arthos did, bringing out his maps and notes. He explained his proposed road network and the previous deal with the mountain clans. While the clans accepted the deal and the Goldridge mines were already running, the mountain lords had become unhappy as they were having trouble with escorting and maintaining the cattle they were promised. They also were having issues still from the native clans that were displaced from Goldridge. The town Below-the-ridge was still too small for all of the previous and new residents. As for the roads, Eddard had advised to put it on hold as they had to take care of the increased population from the south.

"Food, shelter, and clothing for the southern immigrants are my main concerns at the moment," Arthos said as Wyman quietly pored through the young lord's notes. "I already found a solution to the food, but the rest I need assistance with."

Lord Wyman hummed to himself. "Yes, I noticed that there was a small increase in the harvest around Winterfell. I assume whatever you did here, you plan to do for the rest of the North?"

Arthos nodded. "I'm planning a lord's progress sometime next year, to apply the infrastructure to the other demesnes and to get to know my bannermen some more."

The lie was easy to sell, as no one would believe in magic unless they see it with their own eyes. It was how the rumors of his powers at Starfall never went far. His family helped keep it secret, unsure how the rest of the world would take it.

"Understandable. It seems you've thought a lot about this. The main problem I can see here is that you are placing all of these responsibilities on only yourself or your uncles. While I greatly respect both Ned and Benjen, being the second and third sons, they were born to lead but not raised to rule. You are the lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North. You have many loyal vassals who would gladly assist you in these endeavors, especially since these plans will improve their lives."

Wyman took a piece of parchment, and borrowed Arthos' inkwell and quill. He continued to speak while writing some notes. "Here are a few things about my and your other bannermen's holdings and their resources. Look through them, and give your orders when you are ready. Most of us will follow without question, but there are a few that will need more convincing."

Lord Manderly held the parchment out towards Arthos. "House Woolfield is one of my sworn houses, and they have the largest pasture land in the Sheepshead Hills. I will task them with ramping up their wool production for clothing. You might also want to speak with Lord Hornwood, as they also have lands in the Sheepshead. The rest I'll leave up to you."

Arthos took the note and nodded, a grateful smile on his face. "Thank you, Lord Wyman."

"Anything for the Starks."

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

The young lord of Winterfell took Lord Manderly's suggestions to heart.

Arthos spoke with Lord Ryswell and made a deal for his assistance. Since the Rills were one of the largest farming and grazing areas in the North, Arthos – with Benjen's approval – offered Lord Ryswell access to one of the smaller gold mines in the mountains. In exchange, they would guard and care for the cattle gifted to the mountain clans. Arthos also offered to provide House Ryswell funding to improve their horse breeding. Lord Rodrick agreed happily.

Next, Arthos treated with Lords Dustin, Cerwyn, and Tallhart. These three were by far the easiest to find agreement with. Arthos offered William funding to begin his own brewery and vineyard in the Barrowlands, in exchange for giving Ser Helman –and their vassals, House Ironsmith – access to some iron mines for increased steelmaking. With Lord Medger, Arthos gave him leave to start fishing further down one of the forks of the White Knife, for the same exchange as Lord Dustin. All three agreed, with William being the most excited among them.

After them was the largest meeting Arthos had, with Lords Glover, Karstark, Manderly, and Mormont. It was almost cramped in his solar with the four other lords, especially with Wyman and Galbert. Arthos proposed the rebuilding of the Northern fleet. He'd discussed this already with Lord Wyman, who agreed to cover half of the expenses as House Manderly had been longing for centuries to return to the seas.

They talked for some time and eventually came to an agreement. They would build two fleets, on the eastern and western shores. Lords Glover and Karstark would provide the lumber and manpower on either shore, while Lords Wyman and Jorah Mormont would provide the training of sailors and marines.

The last meeting was the one Arthos had been dreading the most, Lords Roose Bolton and Greatjon Umber.

Roose Bolton stared at Arthos, as he sat across the desk in the young lord's solar. He did not speak as he calmly ran a finger along the rim of his still full mug of hippocras, his pale eyes unnerving Arthos. The Greatjon on the other hand, was already refilling his mug for the fourth time.

"So," Lord Umber rumbled out, belching a little as he took another gulp of wine. "What is it you wished to discuss with us, little wolf lord?"

Arthos kept staring back at Roose for bit more, causing a slight twitch on the lord of the Dreadfort's lips. Was that a smile? Arthos ignored it and turned his attention to the Greatjon. "I have been speaking with the other lords, making plans to enrich and uplift the North. Most of these are my own ideas, though a few are from my late grandfather."

"Lord Rickard?" Roose asked, his voice quiet and hard to hear. "I had heard that he had been sending surveyors around the North before the events of Robert's War. Does this have something to do with us?"

Arthos eyes narrowed a bit, but nodded. So, he does have spies around Winterfell. I'll have to deal with that somehow, and any other whisperers I find. "Yes. As you know, the North has recently unearthed gold in the mountains, which is now being mined by House Goldstark. These were not the only things my grandfather found."

Arthos brought out one of Rickard Stark's maps, and pointed to the Lonely Hills. "Grandfather found vast deposits of jewels and other precious minerals in the Lonely Hills. I can send the surveyors with the knowledge of these spots so you may begin mining these gems."

The Greatjon's eyes seemed to bug out at the thought of such riches being so close to his home. "T-This is wonderful news! I thank you, Lord Stark, for informing us about this."

"Yes," Lord Bolton whispered out. "This is a truly magnificent gift. I assume you wish to have a share of the profits once we have mined them?"

Arthos shook his head. He did not need much from the two lords, other than their favor. House Umber was already loyal, but there was no harm in rewarding their faith. As for House Bolton, they were the Stark's biggest rivals, but Roose seemed to be content to remain as a bannerman. It wouldn't hurt to provide some incentive for them to remain faithful to House Stark.

"No, keep the profits and use it as you see fit. All I ask is for you to take it slow. We're already being hounded for our new gold mines; I'd like to keep this quiet for now. Ramp up your meat, fur, and wool production to mask your newfound wealth. I would also suggest establishing more fishing villages along the Weeping Water, and the Last River."

A brief flicker of surprise flashed through Roose Bolton's eyes, before his mask of indifference returned. Arthos thought he seemed to be content, or at least amused. It was hard to tell. Roose gave a small smile and a thanks, while the Greatjon let out a bellowing laugh of joy, picking up Arthos and crushing him in a hug.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

Not long after, the feast itself begins.

Arthos entered the Great Hall of Winterfell with his family and Kiara at his sides. They were greeted with cheers of "Stark!" and "Winterfell!", while the northmen, both noble and lowborn, celebrated the harvest and the new lord of Winterfell. The Starks made their way to the head table upon the raised dais.

Arthos took the central seat, with his Uncle Ned to his right as regent, and Maester Luwin on his left. Benjen and Catelyn – holding little Robb – sat further to the right of Ned, while Ser Rodrik and Kiara further to the left past Luwin.

"Lords of the North!" Eddard bellowed out; the moniker of Quiet Wolf momentarily forgotten as his voice reverberated across the room. "We welcome you to Winterfell for Lord Arthos' first harvest feast. It has been another year, another bountiful harvest for which we give thanks to the gods. May there be a hundred more!"

The Hall was filled with an echoing cheer, which grew louder as the servants came out from the room behind the dais with their meals. There were numerous courses, each offered first to Arthos and those next to him. The meals were a selection of food from throughout the North, like boar, goose-in-berries, salmon, and lobster.

As was customary, Arthos sent particularly delicious dishes to the other lords as a small gesture of friendship: lampreys to Lord Wyman, pork pie and sausages to the Greatjon, porridge to Lord Karstark, and many others.

As they ate, the musicians began playing songs such as "The Bear and the Maiden Fair", "Iron Lances", "The Burning of the Ships", and "A Cask of Ale". Arthos watched as the Greatjon and William Dustin – who he learned was now being called One-Arm Will and Disarmed Dustin – started a drinking contest. He could see Mikken the smith getting handsy with one of the serving girls, and the kennelmaster, Farlen, throwing scraps to one of the hounds. Lady Lyessa Flint of Widow's Watch was fussing over her son, Lord Robin Flint of Flint's Finger.

Arthos let out a wistful sigh, as his mind wandered back to times eating at the dining pavilion in Camp Half-Blood, or the mess hall in Camp Jupiter. It was almost as wild and raucous. As he continued to watch, the tables were cleared away and the music and singing grew wilder. Lord Dustin grabbed his wife and they started whirling about the floor, and soon others joined in.

Arthos got up to dance as well, partnering with his Aunt Catelyn and Kiara most of the time, and a few of the serving girls as well. After a bit, he excused himself from the feast and escorted Kiara to her room; she seemed to get tired very quickly these days, and started getting pale as well. He set her down on her bed and closed the door, before heading for his own room.

On the way, Luwin caught up to him. "My lord," the old man huffed as he hobbled across the courtyard, holding a parchment in his hands. "A rider in the night came with a letter for you. It is sealed with Lady Ashara's mark, but it seems to have come from Sunspear."

Arthos perked up, taking the parchment from the maester. He thanked Luwin before continuing to his room. He lit a candle and sat by the desk near his bed, reading the letter by the flickering light.

My brightest star,

I miss you dearly, my son. It has been lonely at Starfall since you left. Your uncle is the same as always, though his new wife has been good at tempering him. Allyria misses you as well, though my dearest sister has been distracted lately by the young heir of Blackhaven. He came to visit with his family while you were away, to speak about a betrothal. Your aunt is quite amused with him.

There is little for me to do at Starfall, and Alric's insistence that I remarry for the family is getting on my nerves. So, I have decided to journey east to start a small business in Myr, or perhaps Lys. I was fortunate enough to gather support with my endeavors from House Martell. Prince Oberyn has decided to join me, in order to keep an eye on their investment, though I suspect Prince Doran also has other tasks for him in the Free Cities.

It'll be some time to set everything up, perhaps a few years before I will be able to return to Westeros. I promise to write as often as I can, and I hope to find you a good gift during my stay in Essos.

Know that I'll always be thinking of you. I wish you well during your time in the North.

Your loving mother,

Ashara Dayne

Arthos sighed, a smile forming on his lips as he put the letter away. It seemed his mother had begun her plans to return Princess Rhaenys to Westeros. She seemed to have succeeded in getting House Martell on board with her plan, though he did not doubt the Prince of Dorne had an ulterior motive with this.

If the stories are true, he thought to himself. Prince Doran was as ruthless as the old lion, and as scheming and secretive as the spider.

The young lord put on his sleeping attire and laid down on his bed. Things were starting to unfold around the world. He hoped his mother would be safe, he hoped Rhaenys was safe. He also hoped to find Piper and his other friends that might be in the Planetos.

Arthos had many hopes, and many plans. For now, he would enjoy the memories of tonight.

Tomorrow, it all begins.

~ o ~ O ~ o ~

A/N:

Ten points if you can guess where I got the sigils from. Here's a hint: it's from one of my favorite games. This will not be the last time the runes and sigils will be used, though I'll make sure they don't rely on those too much.

I wanted to write a bit more, add a bit more dialogue and interactions, but it was getting pretty long. I'm still not sure what is the optimal length for each chapter, I just go until it feels okay.

See you at the next chapter!