Maester Luwin paused outside the solar, his hand trembling slightly as it hovered near the door. The news he carried would shatter the fragile peace that lingered over Winterfell. He had walked swiftly from the rookery, faster than his aging body was accustomed to, and now his breath came in short, labored gasps. He leaned on his staff, trying to compose himself.

Torrhen Stark was young—just ten-and-eight—but already bore the weight of his House with the resolve of a man twice his age. Luwin had taught him well: history, letters, numbers, and the wisdom of the ancients. Yet no lessons could prepare a boy to hear what he must now deliver.

Summoning the strength he had left, the old maester knocked on the door.

"Enter, Maester Luwin," came the familiar voice.

The door creaked open, and Luwin stepped inside. The room smelled faintly of smoke and pine. Torrhen stood by the hearth, his tall frame illuminated by the flickering firelight, the Stark grey in his eyes sharper than the steel of his sword.

"What brings you here in such haste?" Torrhen asked, his voice steady but curious.

Luwin swallowed hard, holding out a sealed letter. "I bring grave news, my lord. A letter from King's Landing. From your sister."

Torrhen took the letter, breaking the seal with a swift motion. His eyes darted across the page, his expression darkening with every word. By the time he finished, his knuckles were white, gripping the parchment tightly.

"Sansa wrote this?" he demanded.

"It is her hand," Luwin said carefully, "but the queen's words."

"What's happened?" Jon Snow's voice startled them both. Torrhen's bastard brother had entered quietly, his face pale with concern.

"The king is dead," Luwin said gravely. "And Lord Eddard Stark has been charged with treason. He is accused of conspiring to murder King Robert."

"Treason?" Jon's voice rose in disbelief. "Father would never! He was loyal to Robert—like a brother to him! He would never stoop to something as cowardly as murder."

"I believe the charges are false," Luwin replied. "But King's Landing is a viper's nest, full of treachery. Lord Eddard has fallen victim to their schemes."

Torrhen's voice cut through the room like a blade. "This must be connected to Bran. Father and Mother must have uncovered the truth about who pushed him. The Lannisters are involved—they must be."

"A sound theory, my lord," Luwin agreed, his tone cautious. "But there is more. You have been summoned." He produced a second letter, which Torrhen snatched from his hands.

The young lord read silently, his brow furrowing. Then he threw the letter onto the table with a sharp exhale. "Joffrey dares to demand my allegiance? The gall of this boy king!"

"It is a royal command," Luwin warned. "Defiance would mean treason."

Torrhen's lips curled into a grim smile. "Then let it be treason. Call the banners."

"All of them, my lord?"

"They swore fealty to House Stark. Let us see how much their words are worth."

"As you command."

"Send for Willem as well, with haste."

Luwin bowed and hurried out, leaving Torrhen and Jon alone in the growing silence.

Jon finally spoke, his voice low. "Are we going to war, brother?"

"Aye," Torrhen said, sitting heavily in a chair by the fire. "We are."

"Are you afraid?"

"I'd be a fool not to be." Torrhen leaned forward, rubbing his temples. "We go to war against the throne itself. Everything we hold dear—our family, our people, the North—hangs in the balance."

"Then why not yield?"

Torrhen's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "Yield? Do you think the Lannisters would honor any agreement? No. Yielding would mark us as cowards, and the North would lose its freedom forever. If we want our father and sisters back, we must take them by force."

A knock interrupted them.

"Enter," Torrhen commanded.

The door opened, and a tall knight stepped inside, bowing deeply. "You summoned me, my lord?" Willem asked. Willem Poole is the second in command for the master-at-arms for house Stark. Torrhen has to rely on him for now as ser Rodrik is accompanying his mother to got his father.

"Aye," Torrhen said, rising to his feet. "The Lannisters have falsely accused my father of treason and imprisoned him in the Red Keep. This is an injustice not just to House Stark but to the North itself. Assemble our forces. Call every able-bodied man to arms. I want the banners raised, and our army ready to march within a fortnight." Torrhen commanded

"Yes, my lord." The knight bowed and left swiftly.

Torrhen turned to Jon, his expression grave. "Come, brother. We have much to discuss—about war, our family, and what this means for the North."