Rickard I
Everyone has those days on where it seems that the world is out to shit on you and your lofty goals of peace and quiet.
All Rickard ever truly wanted was to better his house by serving his brother and his progeny. He understood and recognized that he would never get his name in the history books, alongside legends like Bran the Builder or Garth the Greenhand.
He was happy being a footnote in history. He knew from a young age what he was. 'A spare for the heir' he remembered his father telling him. A spare that grew less and less needed as his brother had sons.
And he was fine with how his life had spanned out. He had no sons, took no wife as he didn't feel the ache of lonely bed. For simply sharing blood with the king, usually expensive whores spread their legs cheaply.
With his brother Jorgen and his son dead, that did leave his nephew; Theon to be the king. But it wasn't as Bran had a wife who he did leave pregnant before his unfortunate death.
Gods, Bran. Rickard knew that Bran would one day be great, the greatest ever to live since the Builder himself. That boy that great plans that would have catapulted House Stark into greatness. But he was dead and his plans with him.
Theon was nothing like his brother, he would rather the sword over any diplomacy. His head was filled plans of war and conquest which would only be gained through standing on mountains of corpses.
As a man who lost his childhood and innocence on the godforsaken hills that were the Barrowlands. He remembered his friends get decimated by oncoming hails of arrows, his cousin gets scalped by a Barrowking, his direwolf get an iron lance through jaws, his men die by the hundreds.
And to this day he's reminded that they won that battle and subsequently the war. He had slain the commander of the army himself he remembered with weathered pride. The barrow prince and his brothers, in his crippling rage at the losses he had. The crushing shame he felt when he savagely decapitated children that barely made it to his waist.
The Barrow Wars, a two-hundred-year-long series of wars in where House Stark and their banners bled bitterly, battling against the Barrow King, in each one taking more and more territory until they had wiped the last of the Kings felt it wiser to kneel to the men who had slain his sons rather than lose even more.
And now his nephew was about to throw away two hundred years of carnage all for the sake of what? A hollow crown. Truly it was a master stroke to not only lose most of your host and then rely on one from a newly inducted vassal that more than likely to hold some resentment for being forced to bend the knee and being reduced to one singular member.
But who was he to get in the way of Theon's foolish idea of attacking not only the Vale but also the Andals directly when they were in the process of spreading their beliefs across an entire continent and had actually supplanted two Kingdoms.
He recognized his nephew's skill in battle both as a warrior and a field commander, but it was one thing to win a battle and another thing completely to win a war. He held no doubt that with enough men and enough time, his nephew could win any battle. It's why they included him in all the battle plans and strategies. But his nephew had never been tasked to win a war.
It's why Bran and himself had secret meetings discuss the big picture that many forgot about, rebuilding Winterfell, improving the land they currently held dominion over, balancing the relationship of power between vassal and overlord efficiently, starting up a northern navy now that they had a part of the coastline as well as a hundred other issues that couldn't be solved with a sword.
And it's because of that he could never see eye to eye with his warlike nephew. He had yet to refer his nephew as King because it was still up in the air whether or not he would retain the position or be killed for his ambition.
If Rickard acted like his nephew, - a bullhead fool- he would use the Bolton to crush the Stark host and claim the throne for himself and his line. Ignoring the fact that the men he currently commanded were Bolton men, not Stark and were only following him at the behest of Lady Selene.
A lady who could very easily turn on him, a lady that he really didn't like but was forced to up with as not only would the men he commanded slaughter him without her command but there was something cathartic about forcing the haughty woman to defer to him.
But the issue at hand was far more compelling; whether to tear a crown off from the head of his nephew or to swear his sword and all the men that followed him.
Despite his dislike of the man, Rickard would much rather kneel to the son of his brother rather than the son of his nephew it wasn't out of any kind of hatred he had for House Dustin or any love he held for his nephew.
It was simply being frank, they were in a war with the Andals and presumably the Vale. A pregnant woman would not be the ablest leader for a war.
While his nephew did have his faults, his many, many faults.
He was the most practical candidate to lead them. He was renowned general and fighter, connected to two lines of Kings. Had the respect and awe of the men he led.
By all accounts, Theon was a perfect choice or at least the most suited option. That didn't mean Rickard had to like it, in fact, he didn't.
Rickard met Theon's host three days after the battle. When he entered the command tent with his commanders, he was met with his nephew sitting at the head of a table adorned with a freshly forged crown but it was different to the crown of his forbearers.
Where the usual crown was a band of bronze and iron spikes. Theon's was a circlet of steel inscribed in protective runes of their people and surmounted with nine black iron spikes in the shape of longswords and upon each of the swords were lumps of dull copper in a startling accurate visage a screaming skull. At the forefront of the crown was a steel wolf's head.
As Rickard looked at the crown and wondered what the past kings would have done; Jorgen would have just look at his son and smiled, forgiving him of all but the worst transgressions like he always did. Bran would have rolled his eyes, ruffled his brother's hair and focused on something that was far more important.
Rickard was neither of these men and so acted like neither of them, he tilted his head forward slightly and spoke: "My king, I bring a forth a host of fourteen thousand men. My men and myself at your command."
At this Theon's interest was piqued, "Fourteen thousand men? I was led to believe that the Dreadfort could raise a host of twelve thousand, perhaps even less after we had defeated the Red King."
Rickard truly hated his nephew's tactless politicking, for, at the mere mention of the dead monarch, the Bolton men that Rickard had brought with him stirred with angry rumbles. They quickly quieted themselves, but their dissent was noted and would be remembered.
"I believed that the Dreadfort was more than adequately fortified and felt it that they had an excess of soldiers that would be of greater use alongside your host, my lord", Rickard's words were full of a sickeningly sweet honey that made Theon raise an eyebrow and tilt his head to left slightly in intrigue. No doubt the boy thought it rather strange for his typically unfriendly uncle to refer to him so.
And as for the Dreadfort, Rickard would hate himself greatly if he allowed House Bolton to hold any substantial quantity of men that they use of for any offensive reason. So took as much as he could get away with, which was quite a lot.
He rationed that House Bolton had no more than a hundred men left to man the defenses of their fortress, and should they try to call their banners once more. So as to scrape the barrel, they would have three thousand green boys at best.
But for now, it was time for Rickard to kowtow to his nephew and receive orders from him like a loyal foxhound. He also idly saw that the boy's direwolf was lying by his right side.
Once Theon started to speak all men focused upon their king; "We have two targets to attack; The Vale and Andalos." If being a king didn't work, his nephew would surely find it easy to become a mummer, from the way he spoke it would have been easy to mistake him with a storyteller.
"I will take a host of ten thousand men to strike at Andalos, using the large convoy ships that the Andals had left." As the boy continued he looked at his uncle standing directly in front of him. "Uncle, you shall take the remaining nine thousand and use them to carve a bloody charge deep into the heartlands of the Vale, especially the Vale of Arryn. For what greater insult would there be for us to penetrate the innermost sanctum of the House Arryn."
Theon broke out into the righteous laughter of a man satisfied with his own ideas and plans as he finished. His boyish looks all the more handsome with his joyous smile. The majority of the men within the tent shared his laughter, their king's amusement as infectious as the genital warts of the most popular whore in a port.
And just as horrendous and obscene.
Theon intended for the Stark kingdom to be left defenceless and leaderless, as not only would he take their soldiers out the kingdom. House Stark had recently suffered a major depopulation, firstly with the destruction with Winterfell, and the war that followed shortly after.
Most of Bran's honour guard was made up of Stark men who had gone with him to his wedding in the Barrowlands leaving their families at Winterfell. These families promptly died when the Boltons burned the place down. Hearing that Bran had died in battle didn't leave Rickard with much hope on how many of those men would be alive.
Depending on how many died, House Stark would be dangerously close to extinction as Rickard and his nephew who had a tendency for charging headfirst into wars were the only ones left of their house. Perhaps Rickard needed to re-think the idea of having a wife.
And a minimal number of Starks left meant that they couldn't leave anyone as Lord Protector while they went off to war. Lest they give the title to one of their lords causing the argument of favouritism. There was the idea that Theon could give the title, its responsibilities and its powers to his wife.
It would make the most sense as it was the woman's house that currently held the highest number of men in this army and it would go along as a show of trust that could smoothen over some of the many grudges between Houses Stark and Bolton.
But there were many issues that spoke of good reason as to not; House Dustin could see it as slight leading to war, many houses had lost men to the short war with House Bolton as well as dozen long ones that had occurred prior which could mean resentment, little amongst the nobility held any affection for House Bolton then so would chafe under her and most importantly neither Rickard or Theon trusted her at all.
Hopefully, there would be at least one competent Stark left from the battle so as to fulfil the role. Although the pessimist in Rickard kept him from getting his hopes up.
It was this point that Rickard noticed that his nephew had just finished his meeting and so realised that he had just missed the majority of the meeting. He blinked rapidly and made his way to his nephew, men parting for him when they realised what he was doing.
When he reached his nephew, he was welcomed with a smile that seemed so forced that would have been friendly to not have smiled in the first place. "Uncle, what can I do for you", It seemed that the boy had gained some semblance of common courtesy.
At his nephew's show of his pedigree breeding, something that Rickard would struggle to believe if he had not seen the boy in Arya's arms as a new born all those long years ago. "Your grace, I believe that it would be best to inform you of the plans your late brother shared with myself."
As he started Theon looked to be on the edge of losing interest with his uncle. But at the word of 'brother', the boy looked have somebody to have thrown cold water him if you had seen his reaction and snap to attention.
"What plans, Uncle?" The boy who wore a king, asked him as if he was starving man begging for some scrap of food.
Inwardly sneering at the boy, Rickard smiled warmly and continued "Your brother, left clear instructions for the rebuilding of Winterfell as well many developments to made for the benefit for the north. It was your brother's wish for the wars that had ravaged our homeland be put to an end. It was your brother's dream for you to be at content and happy with a family."
Rickard thought he was putting it on a little thick with just how many time he had mentioned the boys brother. But it did seem to be affective as Theon looked at the map in front of him intensely, before sighing and looking back towards his uncle.
"Uncle, my brother and my father saw it fit to make you their right hand and most trusted advisor. Acting with near unbounded impunity to act in their name across the realm. I would wish to do the same. What would you recommend would be best course of action at this point?"
As Theon spoke, Rickard took a look of being honoured and as the boy spieled on more and more. It wasn't that he wasn't honoured by the words said, he was. It was that similar words had been spoken by Theon's predecessors.
A little time before Theon stopped talking, Rickard thought on what was the best course of action. They couldn't back out of war as it was. But a good idea that came to him was to use as little men as possible. "Instead of attacking the Vale proper, we instead attack the outlying islands. We can use them to raid and harry the trade and flow of gold into the land."
Noting the frowning face of his nephew, Rickard spoke a little quicker, "If we can take islands such as the Three Sisters, we can build up a southern war fleet which we can use to easily transport an army to the Vale and war with them all the easier."
By attacking the isles, it gave Rickard the ease of being able to quickly retreat to the north in case of an invasion or the sort. And the Sistermen had a nasty reputation of being raiders, which told him that they wouldn't be good in any sustained battle. And they would be skilled sailors, perfect for a northern war fleet.
Focusing once more on Theon, he looked to see his nephew look and smile. "I believe that it would be more beneficial in the long run to conquer than to simply ravage and raze. I will aim to do the same in Andalos. Thank you for this advice, Uncle." The boy smiled warmly at him, nodding and leaving the tent with his wolf following him dutifully.
AN
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