Chapter 6: Torrhen Stark
The gathering begins with Torrhen Stark addressing his assembled vassals. He speaks of the growing threat from the South, where Aegon I Targaryen has begun his campaign to unite Westeros under his rule. The news of Harrenhal's destruction and the Field of Fire reverberates through the hall like a chilling wind.
As Torrhen outlines the situation, murmurs ripple through the crowd. Lord Wuton Umber rises first, his voice booming as he declares that they must prepare for war. "We cannot sit idly by while our southern neighbors are consumed by flames! We must gather our strength and strike before they turn their gaze northward!"
Jon Karstark nods in agreement but urges caution. "While I share your desire for action, we must consider our position carefully. Aegon commands dragons—creatures that can turn an army to ash in moments."
The debate intensifies as Lord Connor Reed counters Wuton's fervor. "A frontal assault would be madness! We have seen what happens when armies clash against dragons; we would be walking into a Second Field of Fire." His words resonate with many present who recall tales of devastation.
River Bolton adds a layer of intrigue to the discussion. "Perhaps we should not view this solely as a threat but as an opportunity," he suggests slyly. "If we allow Aegon to weaken our southern rivals further, we may find ourselves in a stronger position to negotiate or even conquer once he has exhausted himself."
The room falls silent at River's proposition; some lords exchange glances filled with uncertainty.
As discussions continue, tensions rise among the lords. Wuton's fiery temperament clashes with Connor's strategic caution. "You speak of caution while our enemies grow bolder!" Wuton retorts angrily.
Torrhen intervenes, raising his hand for silence. "We are all here because we care for our people," he reminds them sternly. "Let us not forget that division will only lead to our downfall."
The debate shifts towards alliances; some suggest reaching out to other houses in the North or even considering pacts with those who oppose Aegon in the South.
"I doubt it will do any good," said Lord Wyman Manderly. "Even as we speak, Aegon and his sister-wives are becoming unstoppable through conquest after conquest, making little room for anyone that opposed them. The Iron Islands is in chaos after the death of Harren the Black and his sons. The Nobles houses of Riverlands, Stormlands, Reach, and Westernlands are falling in line. The only thing stands is Dorne and the Vale, and they won't last much longer."
Torrhen feels the weight of leadership pressing down on him more than ever before. He knows that whatever decision they make will shape not only their future but also that of generations yet unborn.
It was without warning, a loud crash echoes through the hall as the heavy wooden doors swing open. All eyes turn towards the entrance where a figure stands silhouetted against the dim light outside.
"Forgive my intrusion," calls out a familiar voice that resonates through the hall like thunder.
Gasps fill the air as William Belmont steps into view—his armor gleaming despite its wear and tear. He had been presumed dead after vanishing during an expedition to Essos three years prior.
"William!" Torrhen exclaims joyfully as he rushes forward to embrace him. Brandon follows suit, clapping William on the back with brotherly affection.
"It is good to be home," William replies with a grin that lights up his weathered face. "I have seen much in my travels, but nothing compares to this place."
"Lord Belmont!" exclaims Lord Manderly, her voice a mixture of disbelief and joy. "We thought you were dead!"
William raises a hand for silence. "I have returned from lands far away," he says solemnly. "And I bring tales that will chill your bones."
Wuton Umber stands up abruptly. "You were lost to us for three years! What happened?"
William's gaze sweeps over the assembly before settling on Wuton. "There were times I thought my end was near," he admits gravely. "But fate had other plans."
"I take you came when you hear about Aegon's Conquest?" Brandon asked William.
"Yes, I did," said William. "It's good thing I arrived for have valuable knowledge of dangerous it is to underestimate the Targaryen's dragons.
Lord Reed leans forward eagerly. "What do you know about Aegon Targaryen?"
Torrhen watch William's expression darkens as he recalls his time in Essos—the chaos and destruction wrought by dragons under Aegon's command.
"I witnessed Aegon burn entire Volantene fleet all by himself," he reveals slowly. "Balerion the Black Dread soared above like a shadow over death itself. After witnessing that massacre, I knew firsthand that siege defense and frontal assault would be foolish."
Lady Hornwood speaks up hesitantly, "But what can we do? We are but men against dragons."
William meets her gaze steadily. "There is one way—magic."
0o0o0
"Magic?" scoffed Lord Rivers Bolton, his tone dripping with derision. "You've lost your mind if you think we can rely on sorcery to combat beasts born from fire."
William's eyes narrowed at Bolton's dismissal but pressed on undeterred. "I have ventured into the heart of Doom—the ruins of Valyria itself—and what I found there changed everything I thought I knew about our world."
Gasps echoed throughout Winterfell as William recounted his harrowing journey through treacherous landscapes where shadows danced menacingly and whispers filled the air like a haunting melody. He spoke of ancient spells etched into stone walls and relics imbued with power beyond comprehension.
"Many who sought treasure within those ruins never returned," Lord Bolton interjected again, skepticism etched on his face. "What makes you different? What proof do you have that your tales are not mere fantasies?"
With a flourish, William revealed a gleaming sword forged from Valyrian steel—a weapon said to be capable of slaying even the mightiest foes. "This armor," he gestured to himself proudly, "and this sword were part of a vast treasure I unearthed amidst horrors unimaginable."
The room fell silent once more as they absorbed this revelation. Valyrian steel was legendary; its rarity made it more precious than gold or silver among noble houses.
"Yet treasure pales in comparison to what I discovered," William continued passionately. "For I have discovered an ancient book that shows me the secrets of a magic style called Battle Magic."
"War Magic," he declared, "was created by a Valyrian woman named Renaenys Nohiar. She discovered that our universe is not just a vast expanse of stars and void but a living entity—breathing, pulsing with energy akin to our own lifeblood."
Skepticism rippled through the crowd; many were wary of such claims. The Northmen were known for their practicality and often dismissed tales of magic as mere superstition. Yet William pressed on, undeterred by their doubt.
"Renaenys spent years studying this Arcane energy," he explained passionately. "She learned how to tap into it—drawing from what she called 'the blood of the universe.' This cosmic flow is limitless and powerful." He paused for effect, allowing his words to sink in.
"With this knowledge," he continued, "she forged War Magic—a force that can turn tides in battle. It is dangerous yet magnificent; those who wield it are capable of feats beyond imagination."
At this point, a woman enters the room and Torrhen recognized her as Amelia Belmont, William's younger twin sister, and recalls she has been with him to Essos for adventure.
"Amelia has trained under Renaenys' teachings," he announced proudly. "I call upon her now to demonstrate what I have spoken."
Amelia Belmont steps forward, her demeanor calm yet confident. "Allow me to demonstrate," she says. With a flick of her wrist, she conjures an ethereal glow around her hands.
The first spell she casts is Foresight, allowing her to sense the presence, strength, and emotions of others, as well as gain limited precognitive reaction to danger.
Next comes Force Shield, a protective barrier that envelops her in shimmering light. She invites one of the lords to throw a heavy stone at her; it bounces harmlessly off her shield.
Finally, she unleashes tiny spark of Burst Blast, sending forth a wave of energy that knocks back several chairs in its wake. Gasps fill the hall; some are awed while others are fearful.
After Amelia's demonstration, murmurs ripple through the hall. Some lords see this magic as a beacon of hope against their impending doom.
"Is it possible," asks Lord Harlan Umber, "for you to teach us this War Magic?"
William nods solemnly. "Yes," he replies, "but it will take years for any man or woman to master it fully." He pauses for effect before continuing, "And time is not on our side."
The urgency in his voice resonates with everyone present; they know that Targaryen forces are gathering strength.
"Can your spell, Burst Blast killed a dragon?" Wuton asked, hopefully.
William was silent for a moment and says "To killed a dragon with Burst Blast is possible. But to conducts enough Arcane energy to kill a dragon will take a very, long time for novice like me and sister."
"Novice?" Brandon Stark repeated, looking confused. "What do you mean."
"We have been studying War Magic for some time now," he continued. "But I must be candid with you; my sister and I are still far from mastering it. To create a Burst Blast powerful enough to kill a dragon requires not only vast amounts of arcane energy but also an extraordinary level of concentration." He gestured toward the stone ceiling above them. "One miscalculation could result in devastation—not just to our enemies but to everything within ten miles of Winterfell."
A murmur rippled through the hall as lords exchanged worried glances. Lady Alysanne Mormont of Bear Island spoke up first, her voice tinged with skepticism. "You mean to say that we are powerless against these beasts? That we cannot defend our home?"
Lord William shook his head gently. "Not powerless—just cautious. We must gather more knowledge and resources before attempting such a feat."
"But what if we wait too long?" Lord Wuton Umber interjected passionately. "The Targaryens will not hesitate to strike while we bicker amongst ourselves."
It was then that Brandon Snow rose from his seat at the far end of the table. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he stepped forward confidently.
"I believe I may have found another way," he declared boldly, capturing everyone's attention.
"What do you propose brother?" Torrhen asked, intrigued yet cautious.
"My lords and ladies," Brandon began, his voice steady but firm. "I have come before you today not just as a Stark by blood but as a man who has witnessed horrors that threaten our very existence." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "The Targaryens have returned with their dragons—three great beasts capable of laying waste to our lands and people."
A murmur rippled through the hall at this declaration. The mention of dragons stirred memories both ancient and recent; tales told around fires during long winter nights echoed in their minds.
"I have taken it upon myself to do something that many would deem heretical," Brandon continued, drawing himself up taller. "I have sliced three branches from the weirwood tree—the sacred tree of our Old Gods—and shaped them into arrows."
Gasps filled the hall at this revelation. The weirwood tree held immense significance in their culture; it was revered as a connection to their ancestors and a symbol of their faith. To desecrate it in such a manner was unthinkable for many present.
"Brandon Snow!" Lord Rickard Karstark exclaimed, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "You cannot be serious! You've committed an act against our gods!"
Brandon raised his hand for silence once more. "Hear me out! These arrows are not mere weapons; they are blessed by the Old Gods themselves! I believe they may be our only hope against these dragons." His voice grew stronger as he spoke passionately about his conviction.
Lord William Belmont, seated across from him, leaned forward with interest piqued despite his initial shock. "If what you say is true," he said slowly, weighing each word carefully, "then we must find a way to get you close enough to use these arrows."
Jon Karstark's brow furrowed deeper still as he considered this proposition. "But how can we possibly approach three dragons? They are fierce creatures; even one could incinerate us before we got within range."
William nodded thoughtfully before responding. "I have an idea that might work," he said slowly, looking around at the assembled lords and ladies who were now hanging on every word.