Chapter 49: A City on the Ocean and the Flight Home

The deep hum of Winter's Titan's thrusters echoed through the night as we sailed across the open ocean. It had been ten days since we first released the ship into the waters, its metal hull cutting through the waves like a silent behemoth. It wasn't just a ship—it was a city, a floating empire unlike anything that had ever existed in Westeros or beyond.

Tom stood beside me at the main observation deck, leaning against the railing. He looked satisfied, his eyes following the horizon where the waters seemed endless.

"I never imagined we'd actually get here," he admitted, shaking his head. "A moving city, armed to the teeth with warships and cannons… It's something out of a dream."

"Not a dream," I corrected. "A new reality."

The process of constructing Winter's Titan had drastically changed over the years. What started as a simple warship project turned into something far grander. I revised its blueprints so many times that, in the end, I reinvented naval warfare itself.

A Fleet Within a Ship

Inside Titan, hidden within massive launch bays, rested ten warships, each 100 meters long. Unlike traditional ships in Westeros, these were, cannon-equipped, and capable of sailing independently. When needed, they could detach from Titan, moving out like wolves from their den to strike and return.

No one in this world knew about gunpowder and cannons—except me and Tom. This wasn't like the wooden ships used by the Greyjoys and the Ironborn. These were floating weapons of destruction.

Titan itself was large enough that entire fleets could dock within it, refueling, resupplying, and repairing without needing to return to shore. And at the heart of the ship—deep within its engine chambers—were the thrusters, powered by a unique system I developed using magical energy cores and the Steam engines. The result was a true leviathan of the sea, untouchable and unstoppable.

We had tested everything—speed, agility, weaponry, power reserves—and now, after ten long days, the ship stood proven.

Tom turned toward me. "What's next?"

I sighed. "We return to Winter's Haven and let Titan take its place as the heart of our navy."

Winter's Haven and The People Aboard Titan

After five more days at sea, we returned to Winter's Haven, my hidden fortress kingdom beyond the Wall. But instead of bringing everyone home, I made a decision that changed everything.

Titan was no longer just a warship. It was a home.

So, I ordered 5,000 people to remain aboard permanently. These weren't ordinary civilians. They were specially chosen individuals—engineers, farmers, warriors, and shipbuilders.

Titan had farms that could produce food indefinitely.

It had an advanced navigation system, allowing it to move wherever needed.

It had factories, metalworkers, and repair stations, ensuring it could self-sustain indefinitely.

Over time, these 5,000 people would become the first seafarers of a new world, trained by my clones, who acted as instructors and overseers.

If anything happened to the ship, there were enough trained repairmen to keep it afloat forever.

This wasn't just a ship. It was a nation upon the waves.

And as the rest of our fleet returned to Winter's Haven, Titan remained stationed at sea—watching, waiting, guarding the unknown.

A Golden Fortune Beyond the Wall

There was more good news.

Five months ago, while I was busy designing Titan, my clones had ventured far north beyond the Wall, deep into unexplored, frozen lands. There, within the snow-covered earth, they found a gold mine.

And not just any gold mine—a motherlode.

A deposit so vast that even the Lannisters would envy our wealth.

Since the discovery, we had been mining at a rapid pace, securing more gold than even King's Landing held in its vaults. The Starks and Northerners never thought to expand beyond the Wall, believing it to be a barren wasteland filled with nothing but Wildlings.

But they were wrong.

Beyond the Wall was a kingdom waiting to be claimed.

The people of Winter's Haven were thriving, and now we had riches beyond imagining.

The Year is 296 AC—A Turning Point in History

I stood on the balcony of Winter's Haven, overlooking the northern lands stretching into the unknown.

The year was now 296 AC.

That meant two years until Robert Baratheon traveled to Winterfell, asking Eddard Stark to become the Hand of the King.

It meant one year until Jon Arryn's death, setting the stage for the war to come.

I didn't care much about the Seven Kingdoms. Let them play their game of thrones.

But my family?

I wouldn't let them suffer for the sake of some drunk king's ambition.

It was time for me to step back into their lives and reshape history itself.

Six Years Away—Time to Return to Winterfell

For six years, I had been gone.

Every year, I sent a single raven to Winterfell, telling them one thing:

"I am alive. I will return. Do not worry."

That was all.

I never told them where I was or what I was doing.

But I saw their reactions.

Through my Warg ability, I could see their eyes through the raven's vision—I could feel their worry, their pain.

Now, the time had come.

I chuckled to myself, imagining what they would say when they saw who I had become.

Robb would have grown into a true warrior, Sansa into a noble lady.

Arya—who had adored me as a baby—would finally meet me again.

And Bran, Rickon—my youngest brothers, who I never knew—would finally see their lost sibling return home.

I felt a warmth in my chest, something that even the cold northern wind could not freeze.

Even though Winter's Haven was my kingdom, even though Titan and my people here were my new family…

Winterfell was still home.

I stepped outside onto a large platform, high above Winter's Haven. The sky stretched endlessly before me.

I pursed my lips and whistled.

For a moment, silence.

Then—

A thunderous screech tore through the air, as though a thousand birds had cried out at once.

Two massive eagles, each larger than a warhorse, descended from the skies like divine creatures. Their golden eyes burned with intelligence, their wings spanning nearly twenty feet across.

These were my companions, the two eagles I had raised from hatchlings in Winterfell.

After performing an ancient magical ritual, they had grown beyond natural size, becoming immortal creatures of the sky.

I ran my hand along their massive wings, feeling the energy radiating from them.

They understood what I wanted. They had waited for this moment.

"Take me home," I whispered.

The eagle bent its great body, allowing me to climb onto its back.

And then—

With a powerful thrust, we took off into the sky.

Winterfell Awaits

As we soared high above the cold northern lands, I felt a fire burning in my heart.

Winterfell…

My home.

For six years, I had been a ghost in their lives.

But soon… they would see the truth.

Not just as a lost brother returned, but as a force that would change the very fate of Westeros.

To be continued...

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