Snippets of the Timeline till the end of rebellion:
Brandon Stark, born in 260 AC, was fire and frost—bold, wild, and destined to be Warden of the North. Two years later, in the storm-ravaged lands of the south, the gods answered with thunder and gave Robert and Rowena Baratheon, twins born of storm and noble fury. Robert was laughter and fury. Rowena, steel and will—a rider, a fighter, her grandmother's Valyrian blood burning low and bright.
In 263 AC, another Stark was born—Eddard, solemn and steady, content to live in his brother's long shadow.
At sixteen, Brandon was sent south to foster with Lord Steffon Baratheon. It was meant to forge a bond between North and Stormlands.
Instead, it forged a love.
Rowena Baratheon was no southern lady. She trained in the yard, sparred with the knights, and raced her brothers through the woods. Where others flinched from Brandon's northern pride, she challenged it. Their affection grew in glances, in bruised knuckles and quiet moments at dusk.
The Mad King's Proposal
By 278 AC, King Aerys II had grown increasingly unstable. Obsessed with bloodlines and alliances, he sought a valyrian bride for his son, Prince Rhaegar. Aerys set his eye on Rowena Baratheon, citing her descent from Rhaelle Targaryen, demanding Lord Steffon send her to court.
Robert found the raven first. He read it, face darkening, then found his sister in the training yard.
"You'll help me?" she asked him when he told her.
Robert nodded. "We'll get you out."
The Elopement
That night, under cloak of darkness, Robert and Stannis helped Rowena escape. Her belongings packed light; her heart, heavy with love and defiance. At a quiet cove near the castle cliffs, Brandon waited. They boarded a Lysene ship before the first sunray touched the sea.
They disappeared across the narrow sea, far from the Mad King's reach.
In 279 AC, in a modest house in Lys, Rowena gave birth to their son—Thorin, named for the thunder that marked his parents' union, a Baratheon name shaped by northern fire.
A Father's Farewell
Aerys, furious that Rowena had escaped him, ordered Lord Steffon Baratheon to sail to Essos and "find Rhaegar a suitable Valyrian bride, if his own kin cannot be loyal." Steffon and Cassana departed dutifully—and in Lys, they found more than political prospects.
They found their daughter, her northern husband, and a grandson with Baratheon eyes.
For a time, there was peace. Cassana wept as she held Thorrin in her arms. Steffon made a quiet promise to them:
"Once I've found the bride, come home."
But the gods had other plans.
The Windproud was shattered off Shipbreaker Bay. Both Steffon and Cassana drowned.
Ashes of Peace
In 279 AC, Rhaegar married Elia Martell. Their daughter, Rhaenys, was born a year later. The kingdom held its breath.
Then came Harrenhal.
Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark Queen of Love and Beauty. Weeks later, he vanished with her.
Brandon Stark, furious, rode to King's Landing with Rowena and Thorin, demanding Lyanna's return.
Aerys chose fire.
He burned Rickard Stark alive, and Brandon died choking, trying to save him. Rowena and her son were taken as hostages.
And the Rebellion began.
The Sack of King's Landing – 283 AC
As armies clashed across Westeros, Rowena remained in Maegor's Holdfast, watching over her son and Rhaegar's daughter, Rhaenys. She had grown close to the Dornish princess, knowing what it meant to be caught between duty and blood.
Then the gates fell.
Tywin Lannister entered the city claiming loyalty. But his knights had no mercy. Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch stormed the royal apartments.
Rowena fought brave —sword in hand, fearless.
She killed Amory Lorch.
She hid Rhaenys and Steffon in the tunnels beneath the Red Keep.
But she couldn't save Elia or baby Aegon. The Mountain crushed them like dolls.
He found Rowena last—bloodied and defiant—and threw her from the tower.
The Survivors
A Dornish washerwoman named Ysilla, once Elia's maid, had been living in hiding since the rebellion began. She found Rhaenys in the tunnels and smuggled her away—disguised as her niece.
Meanwhile, Robert and Ned combed the Red Keep. The throne room reeked of blood. Rowena's body was shattered. Elia's blood soaked the stones.
But Thorin was missing.
Deep beneath the keep, through dark tunnels and crumbled stone, they found him.
Ned heard him first—a child's sob, muffled behind a loose grate.
They pulled it free, and there he was: Thorin, shaking, clutching his mother's dagger, eyes red and wild.
Ashes and Aftermath
Robert and Ned Stark arrived too late.
The city stank of ash and death. Robert found Rowena's broken body and wept where the stones drank red.
He blamed Tywin—but the lion denied all, claiming it was vengeance by Aerys's loyalists for the death of rowena and presented the bodies of Elia aegon and a disfigured rhaenys which was a dupe he mae to hide his shame that he let the little girl escape.
Ned rode south to the Tower of Joy, found Lyanna dying, and took her secret with him.
He returned to the North with two boys:
Jon Snow, the crown's secret heir.
Thorin Stark, the storm's orphaned son.
One was born of prophecy.
The other of defiance and love.
Both carried legacies that would shape the world to come.
(end of snippets).
Eddard Stark,King's Landing, 283 AC
The war was over, but peace had not come.
In the depths of the Red Keep, among rubble and blood, Eddard Stark found a child. Huddled behind broken stone, eyes wide, a dagger clenched in bruised hands. Four years old, silent, and utterly alone.
Thorin.
The last trace of Brandon and Rowena. The last flicker of two lives Ned had failed to protect.
He picked the boy up with a gentleness forged in sorrow. Thorin did not cry. He only leaned against Ned's shoulder and stared back at the broken tower where his mother had fallen.
Only Thorin knew the truth — that Rowena had saved Rhaenys Targaryen, that she'd fought with the fury of a Baratheon and the fire of a Stark.
But the boy said nothing. He kept her memory safe, buried deep.
Ned's Vow
Later, when the city stilled, and Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon sat with him, Ned gave voice to the thought that had taken root in the silence of war.
"Thorin is their son," he said. "He will be named heir to Winterfell. I will act as regent until he comes of age."
Jon Arryn gave a long nod. "It is a fair solution, if not an easy one."
Robert looked hollow, but resolute. "He's all I have left of her. Give him a good life, Ned. Make him strong."
The Weight of Ghosts
When night fell, Ned stood alone, gazing out at the city — ash drifting from broken towers like snow.
He thought of Brandon, laughing and bold.
Of Rowena, fierce and unrelenting.
Of Lyanna, wild and tragic, somewhere far away in a tower of her own.
Of Benjen, still at Winterfell. Of his father, burned alive.
He had lost almost everyone.
And now he returned to the North not with hope, but with a bastard in his arms, and an orphan at his side.
"I couldn't save them," he whispered to the night. "But I'll not fail these two."
He looked at Thorin, asleep under Brandon's old cloak, and Jon, swaddled in furs, his tiny face barely visible.
"They will grow. They will live. And they will have a home."
It wasn't duty that bound him. It was love — buried deep, but unyielding.
Riverrun
At Riverrun, Catelyn met him with a calm face and questioning eyes. But her gaze lingered on the boys.
She accepted Thorin because she had to — his name was noble, his claim strong — but in her heart, she resented him. He would be heir, not Robb. Her son would grow in the shadow of another.
And Jon… she loathed the look in Ned's eyes when he saw the , shameful love for a child that wasn't hers.
Hoster Tully was no less disturbed. He saw risk in every shadow Ned brought — bastards, orphans, succession snarled like brambles. But he said no more after their final talk.
"May the gods be kinder than men," he muttered.
Northbound
When they left for Winterfell, it was in a hush of falling snow. The air was cold and sharp.
Thorin rode close to Ned's side, silent and solemn. He said nothing of tunnels or towers or Dornish girls.
Jon Snow was a bundle of warmth in a covered cradle.
Catelyn rode behind, her thoughts sealed away, her gaze fixed ahead.
And Ned Stark, carrying grief like a second skin, looked at the two children in his care and whispered one last vow to himself:
"Whatever the cost, I will not lose them. Not again."
The last wolves were coming home.