:-[Chapter 35]-:
"The South think they can submit the North and Dorne." continued Harry, ignoring the man but speaking of his home, therefore keeping him interested. They still have the armies of the Westerlands, the Riverland and the Crownlands and the Targaryens themselves."
"What can we do, against such numbers, Harry?" Benjen asked, a little taken aback by the sheer number he was about to face.
Harry smirked, not unlike the Red Viper, with whom he was taken a liking in sparing.
"What are your House words, Benjen?"
Benjen was a little surprise by the questions by answered nonetheless to his friend and brother in all but blood. "Winter is coming."
:-[T.A.B]-:
"Exactly, my friend." smirked Harry, once again. "I have an idea to fight against the South and the Crown."
The young pointed out his small chest, containing the magical crystal from the Children of the Forest he found in the crypt when he repaired the fortress. He took it out, showing to everyone the humming green light. Every person's attention in the room was fixed on the crystal.
"This crystal is filled with natural energy, allowing me to recreate Moat Cailin to its former glory, as you can all see. I intend to create an intense winter in the Neck, paralysing the armies of the South. The Reach is almost half their total numbers and the Vale are the forces of the Hand of the King himself."
"I know you are powerful, Harry. But controlling nature itself is..." Rickard started.
"Allow me to show you, my lord." the young wizard interrupted, still slightly smirking.
Rickard nodded immediately, wanting to see what the sorcerer in front of him had in mind. The raven-haired man took the crystal from the box and closed his eyes, channeling the energy within it. The people in the room could feel the pressure on their skin and something surrounding the young man in front of them. Suddenly, Harry opened his eyes, revealing them to be glowing like the crystal in his hands.
Outside, the winds were howling violently. Even inside with the warm fire in the lord's solar, the group could feel the intense cold. Everyone approached the fire but without success. They felt the cold was draining them of all vitaly. Winter was here. The guards outside were slightly panicking, at the sight of this sudden storm. They stayed at their station however, knowing of the coming invasion.
Harry stopped using the crystal, calming the angry storm outside. The effects were felt instantaneously. Warmth came back into the bones of everyone. The fire returned to its normal effect and they felt better by the minutes.
"This is the power that the Children of the Forest used thousands of years ago to try and separate the North from the continent. This is not something that I can do at the moment."
"Yes, you can only create a massive winter storm in the blink of an eye. Poor us." Oberyn said, making the small group chuckle at his joke.
"I must confess a little worry, Harry." Rickard said. "What about our own men and Moat Cailin?"
"I have also a plan for that."
"This may work against the first wave with the Reach and the Vale, but I doubt it will work with the rest of the armies. Tywin Lannister is a resourceful man. He will buy every fur he can to give his men." Eddard said, a hand stroking his chin.
"This is where the crannogmen will enter in the play." Howland Reed started. "Ever since I knew that we would be forced to leave our home, I have ordered to my men to capture as many lizard-lions as possible. With the last group, I have brought every single animal that my hunters found."
"How many did you find, Howland?" Lyanna asked, sitting next to her father and Lady Maege behind her.
The smile on his face could easily be called feral.
:-[T.A.B]-:
:-[A week later]-:
Lord Harry Winterstorm was standing at the top of the Direwolves Gates, in company of Eddard and his father, Rickard Stark. They were all dressed in similar northern lord attire, ready for combat. Banners of the Starks, Winterstorms and Martells were proudly standing behind them. No sound but the howling of the wind was heard. No men, nor women would dare speak, for they all knew they were witnessing history. How said history would go, only the Gods knew for certain.
In front of them, was standing the massive combined army of the Reach and the Vale. The host was made up of nearly 200,000 men. Far more than Harry had on hand. But the North had the sorcerer and far better warriors than the south. After around an hour of no movement from each side, a lonely horseman, adorning the white flag was riding toward Moat Cailin. The young raven-haired man could see he was from the Vale thanks to his armor.
"I come in the name of Lord Arryn, Hand of the King, Lord Paramount of the Vale and Warden of the East. He wishes to speak with you under the promise of safe return. Bread and salt must be observed... on both sides."
Harry looked at Lord Rickard Stark beside him. The man had his serious face on and even the young man did not want to get on his bad side in that moment, which was why he decided to let him take the lead since it was his kingdom first and foremost before it was his castle.
"If his intentions are truly pure, tell him to bring only three men with him. These are my terms if he wants to meet."
"Very well my lord. I shall bring your words to Lord Arryn." said the knight before returning to his liege.
"What do you think, my lord?" Harry asked, curious about the meeting.
"I know Jon Arryn. The man is a pacifist first and a warrior second. He will try to make peace with us before we go to war. What I know is this, you don't prepare approximately 400,000 men and equip them to not use them. Either they will try something when we meet or this is for real but I can't see it."
"I am of the same mind, Lord Stark." said Ser Lewyn Martell, placed behind him. "King Rhaegar has had his eyes on his crusade for years now."
They waited only fifteen minutes before a small group of four people came out of the invading army. Simply judging by the color they wore, Harry was convinced it was of course Lord Jon Arryn, one of his knights and the others must have been Lord Mace Tyrell and a bodyguard. Once they arrived at the gates, the oppressive aura of the statues started to be more intense..
"Lord Rickard Stark, I have arrived like you asked with only three men at my side. May I present you, the Lord Paramount of the Reach, the Defender of High Garden and Warden of the South, Lord Mace Tyrell." started Jon Arryn. "Behind me you have Ser Wilton, Knight of the Vale and behind Lord Tyrell, is Ser Jonothor Darry, member of the Kingsguard of His Grace, King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Defender of the Faith and Voice of the Seven. Open your gate immediately in His name and present us with bread and salt."
Rickard only growled slightly at the tone of Jon Arryn's voice, but his honor as a Stark compelled him to open the gates, just as he promised earlier. He nodded firmly to the guardsmen, who then opened only one of the two gates. Archers were getting antsy and every one of them had an arrow ready and nocked.
"Whom do you choose to assist you, my lord?" asked Harry.
"Yourself, as the lord of Moat Cailin and leader of one of my battalions. Prince Oberyn as the speaker of Dorne deserves also to be there of course. Ser Barristan, are you ready to face your old brother from the kingsguard?"
"I am, my lord." said the knight, nodding to his new lord of the last few years since he fled the madness of the Targaryens.
"They are bringing their horses, my lord. Shall I bring Hedwig too?" asked the young sorcerer with a coy smile.
"Do so, Lord Winterstorm." Rickard answered, all serious at the moment. "I am not taking any chances against them."
The chosen members followed the imposing northern lord who had Ice, his ancestral Valyrian steel sword strapped upon his back. They descended the steps leading to the main court and waited for the crown's envoys.
:-[T.A.B]-:
:-[A few hours before the meeting]-:
Lord Mace Tyrell was riding dejectedly on his horse. This fucking cold! These fucking mosquitoes everywhere! This fucking swamp! This fucking land! These fucking... everything! For days now they were walking into the Neck, following the King's Road. The long, long column of men was following him at a snails' pace. He was exhausted. After all, he was the one leading this great army for King Rhaegar himself and the Faith. Well, if you forgot about the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn.
The man had never went this far north before. The furthest he ever had been Harrenhal and now, he was chosen by the Voice of the Seven himself to be the one to put the rebels in their place. He honestly thought that it would only take a couple of days just to get there. He did not realise how far Moat Cailin actually was. He was forced to keep the march on his white horse because he feared King Rhaegar's fire in the literal sense. So, he continued like the brave man that he was. He could not wait to arrive at the desolate stronghold and light up a good warm fire and feast on his victory.
"Are you alright, Lord Tyrell?" Jon Arryn asked, having rejoin him after talking to his men. "Is the cold too harsh for you?"
"N-Nonsense, Lord A-Arryn. I-I am s-simply p-p-pensive about our future vi-victory."
"I see. Well, you do not need to worry, my lord. My negotiations will not fail." Arryn assured, clearly sure of himself.
"O-Of c-course they won't. Y-You have t-the might of the R-Reach behind you, after all." Mace said, slapping a mosquito away. How could they survive in the cold?
Jon Arryn did not have the time to give an answer to his fellow Lord Paramount before a scout from the Vale came up to them. The man had wide eyes, like he had seen a ghost or something equally surprising.
"My lords!" the man yelled with emotion and excitement.
"What is it, scout? What have you seen that seems to have frightened you so much?" Lord Arryn asked immediately, concerned for the man.
"The rumours are all true my lord. Moat Cailin is completely finished. I could not see well due to the thick fog, but the walls are very high and the gates are equally strong, but that's not the worst of it!"
"What is?" quarried Lord Arryn.
"They have monstrous beasts guarding them! Two massive wolves are guarding the main point of entry. I have never seen something like this!" said the over scared man.
"How far is the castle, scout?" the older lord asked, not falling for the man eccentricities.
"Only an hour further, my lord." said the wide-eyed man before taking his leave hurriedly.
Mace was not so sure anymore that he wanted to go farther than he was now. If this rumour was true, what about all of the others? Did the Starks really ride direwolves into battle? Was Winterstorm really a sorcerer? It seemed so at the moment. What else could he possibly do?
"Lord Tyrell?" said a voice beside him, making him quit his inner monologue. He looked at the older man, his own body still slightly shivering from the cold of the swamp. "Let us double the pace. I want to arrive at Moat Cailin as soon as possible. We need to observe this phenomenon by ourselves before the scouts start to spread misinformation and fear around the camp."
Mace did not have the time to answer when the Hand of the King gave the order to the troops. He was his superior technically, thought the man, even if he did not like it one bit. His son was to marry the sister to the good brother of the king! He was a lord of great importance after all. He should be the one who led the host and not the Old Falcon. His stupid plan about making peace with the North instead of simply crushing them all was going to put a halt in his plan to become a great hero likeness of the Garderners. Trying but failing to ignore the horde of mosquitoes eating him, the Lord of Highgarden kicked the belly of his horse and started galloping behind Lord Jon Arryn and his numerous knights.
Arriving at the gates of Moat Cailin, Mace could not help but be in awe at the sight of the castle. The very high towers were menacingly looking down upon them. The walls were equally massive and imposing. Just as he wanted to look on the infamous gates, the fog dissolved just enough for him to see the two big direwolves statues guarding them. They indeed looked terrifying, if he was honest with himself. What stopped him immediately in his tracks, was the numerous archers posted everywhere on the walls. Moat Cailin was supposed to be a ruin! Not this stronghold ready for war!
"By the Gods!" said one Reachman behind him. The man was a member of his personal guard, chosen from the numerous Summer Knight of the Reach. He was a very fine blade, winning some tourneys here and there. He was known for his bravery against bandits that used to roam in the kingdom but now, even Mace could see fear in his eyes.
"Men!" screamed Lord Jon Arryn. "Now is not the time to lose our Faith and courage. Lord Tyrell, I will send a man so we can start parlaying with the North. I trust you will oversee the foundation of our camp while we wait for an answer, yes?"
The firm tone given with authority by the Old Falcon seemed to returned some of the men courage. Mace puffed up his chest, trying to not let the fear he felt in his heart showed too much.
"O-Of c-course, my lord H-Hand." said the Lord of the Reach before taking his leave and started barking orders about setting a camp to whomever could hear him.
:-[T.A.B]-:
Harry was standing in front of his gates with the group Lord Rickard Stark ordered to come with him. The young lord could barely feel the cold wind on his skin. This was nothing compared to what was about to come if the Iron Throne did not pull back from their stupid crusade. Even if they did, the damage was too much and was done and much too late to fix. Knowing his lord, nothing could be done to bring the North back into the Seven Kingdoms.
The gates opened, letting the four southerners enter. Even without his order, the archers on the wall were quick to have an arrow at the ready. Some pointed them toward the massive army, in case this was a ruse to enter their land. Luckily for everyone, except for the four riders who entered quickly, no one else moved an inch. They each got down from their horse when they were securely inside.
No one moved. The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a sword. It seemed that no one wanted to be the first to speak so Harry, as the lord of Moat Cailin, decided to be the one to break the ice, so to speak.
"So, why do you insist on speaking with us, Lord Arryn?" Harry asked.
"Before that, shall we proceed to the exchanging of bread and salt?" said an unsure Hand of the King, seeing all of the defenses and men guarding the castle.
"Of course." said Rickard before nodding at one servant who quickly ran toward his lord with a plate of food. The small group exchanged the formalities and when the Old Falcon was reassured of his security and of the men with him, he spoke.
"His grace, King Rhaegar, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and of Voice of the Seven, has graciously offered you a chance to rejoin the Iron Throne. Dispose of one of your male children. Renounce the false gods that you call Old Gods. Let the Starks rule the North under the Targaryen for generations to come." said the old man. "The heathen called Harry Winterstorm must be handed over to us, as Prince Oberyn, also known as the Red Viper of Dorne. The beast called Hedwig must be put to death..."
Hedwig could not take it anymore. She growled so loudly at the group of four that even the kingsguard looked scared of her. Her claws were at the ready for a fight and Harry could easily see his familiar's muscles were ready to pounce.
"Calm down, girl. Do not let your emotions get in the way." said the young sorcerer mentally.
"Those fuckers! They want either one of my pups to die? I am going to show him what is the cost of their stupid demands!" screamed Hedwig in his head, still growling menacingly at the Hand of the King.
"Enough, Hedwig! I understand exactly what you feel. They want to take you from me and away from Sura. Let Lord Rickard deal with them." concluded the lord of Moat Cailin before looking again at his lord. "Apologies, my lord. Hedwig will calm down."
"No need to apologize, only the honour of my House prevents me from maiming them on the spot." almost growled the northerner. "I never thought you would actually come here, to the North to insult me directly to my face. The North has worshiped the Old Gods for thousands of years with the Starks themselves as its protector. There is no way in the Seven Hells that a Stark would willingly give up our beliefs. Lord Winterstorm is part of the North, just like Hedwig the direwolf is. She is a living symbol of our House."
"Foolishness, my lord Stark!" laughed out loud the Fat Flower of Highgarden. "Did you not see the massive host outside your pitiful walls? The Seven-Who-Are-One have guided us here without a single loss of lives. Surely you see this a sign."
This time, it was Prince Oberyn who laughed in the face of Mace Tyrell. "I have never seen a man so stupid!" laughed the Red Viper, before pointing his spear toward the fat man who even took a couple of steps back before his back was on Ser Jonothor Darry, behind him. "You are so far up your fat ass that you cannot even see that the North allo..."
"Prince Oberyn." said Lord Rickard firmly, stopping him from revealing information. "I shall never, never sacrifice one of my children to that... mad man. Your Rhaegar has completely lost it and you simply encourage his abuses toward the Realm. What else does your king want?"
"Winterfell shall host a garrison from loyalist to the Crown for five generations, ensuring your loyalty. Also, your taxes will go up. Moat Cailin will be put to the ground as the North shall never revolt against the Iron Throne ever again." concluded the old man.
"Never in a thousand years the Targaryens will have a fucking garrison in my capital. The North will have its independence, as we did before Aegon the Conqueror came with his dragons. Stay far away from our lands. Stay far away from our shores. You. Are. Not. Welcome. Here."
"Rickard, see reason!" begged Jon Arryn. "There is no way you can resist the might of the Iron Throne. We outnumber you almost twenty-to-one with our total army. Summer has begun, our food reserve is full. The Neck is completely empty. You have already lost. Please, in the name of our old friendship, come back to your senses!"
Rickard said nothing. Harry knew the man was keeping himself from jumping on the Old Falcon and beating him to a pulp for daring him to sacrifice one of his own children. To allow the Crown to rape his land for generations to come. The young lord knew it would never happen in a million years.
"You can take that mad man's offer and shove it where the sun does not shine, you fucking chicken. The Jon Arryn that I knew would never be part of something like this! He would have rebelled with me and Dorne without asking. Go, you fucking coward. Go back to your perch and leave the North and never return. Moat Cailin shall stand proud in your way."
The warriors, close enough to eavesdrop, all around them, cheered their lord loudly. The man was showing no emotion except for rage. The betrayal of one who he considered a true friend cut him deep in his heart. Lord Arryn sighed dejectedly. He looked at Harry, not without anger in his eyes.
"Do you see what you have done, sorcerer? Do you see what your treacherous sorcery has done to this Realm?"
"Aye." Harry said, shocking everyone around him. "I realize that I should never have gone to save the prince from the clutches of Duskendale years ago. Your Mad King is only looking for a pretext to invade this land. Even if I was not here, the Crown would have invaded because of our faith in the Old Gods."
"Your Old Gods are dead, boy!" screamed Mace Tyrell who was getting redder and redder by the minute. "No trace will be left of your miserable religion when I am done with you all! Lord Arryn, I am going back to the camp. This is useless. Come with me, soldier." said the Fat Flower to his personal escort, leaving only Jon Arryn and Ser Jonothor Darry.
"What more is there to say, Jon?" asked Rickard. "I think everything has been said."
"Aye. Is it a shame that you cannot see reason, Rickard. Ever since that boy came into your life. The killing of a Maester without a fair trial. The multiple marriage offers refuse on behalf of your children."
"Leave Jon. Leave before that I perjure myself in front of my Gods."
Jon Arryn sighed again, looking older than he actually was. He really thought that his old friend would listen to reason from him. It was a resounding failure.
"Very well, in the name of King Rhaegar, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men and Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Voice of the Seven. I officially declare that the First Crusade has begun. The war will begin tomorrow, at dawn."
Jon Arryn turned his horse around, nodding to Ser Darry to follow him. They were almost at the gates when they heard Lord Rickard Stark say one last sentence before they would see each other in war.
"Winter is coming for you Jon."
:-[T.A.B]-:
Thank you everyone for reading Chapter 35 of The adventure begins! Please let a review in the comment, letting me know what you think about my story or what you would like to see.
Criticism is always welcome as long as it is constructive.
Thank you to abarai72 for his amazing help in developing this story!
To BioHazard82: Thank you for reading!
To Darlok: Its coming! Next chapter is the big chapter!
To Xeno black: Stay tuned! I have got something brewing for the Sword of the Morning!
To joharasbel: Thank you so much for your review!
To Blaze1992: Not this time
To Ptool: Thank you again for reading!
To Nadine-Daki: I would love to, but I am poor as fuck.
To Imagination 3101: Thank you for reading my friend!
To rajeshkont: Winter can be very though if you are not ready for it, as the Vale and the Reach are not!