cp4

Chapter 4

Court was held soon again after my ascendance to the throne of the North. Two weeks had passed, and two weeks had changed little and lots. I had traded seats with Jon, now sat the middle of the table between him and Sansa, and Ser Davos Seaworth had taken a place by Jon's other side. The rest of the lords were still in their original positions, ready for whatever may come. Brienne of Tarth had returned from her foray into the Riverlands at Sansa's behest half an hour ago and was stood by Maester Wolkan's side.

"We are in need of fighters." I announced. A thick wolf pelt had been wrapped over my shoulders with the intention to make me appear greater, to make me look a proper wolf-king. As it were, it just made my skinniness and young age all the more apparent. Still, I bore it without complaint, for I was a northerner and a king both. "Jon says the dead are making for us, and I believe him. Eventually they will reach us, and we cannot be unprepared. Everyone aged ten to sixty will drill daily with spears and pikes and bow and arrows."

Robbet Glover laughed. "Bout time we taught these boys of summer how to fight." Lords around him jeered lowly in agreement, distinguished soldiers nodding along.

Smiling thinly, I further spoke. "It won't be just the boys, my lord. We can't defend the North if only half the population is fighting."

He slowly got to his feet; head dipped so his glare could be felt stronger. "You expect me to put a spear in my granddaughters' hand?"

"I don't plan on knitting by the fire while men fight for me." Lyanna Mormont mocked, before I could do so myself. "I might be small, Lord Glover, and I might be a girl, but I am every bit as much a northerner as you."

"Indeed you are, my lady. No one is questioning your-"

She cut him off harshly. "And I don't need your permission to defend the North." Her head craned to me, nodding lowly. She still did not trust me as she did Jon, but she was willing to allow me to prove myself. That was all I could really ask for. "We'll begin training every man, woman, boy and girl on Bear Island."

"Before that," Jon began, all attentions held onto his words. King though I may be, but that was only due to Jon's unwillingness to bare the title. He held their respect more than I did, and it showed plainly. "We need dragonglass. It kills White Walkers, it's more valuable to us now than gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it and we need to make weapons from it. Command your maesters to search your castle libraries for any mention of where some might be."

"That's not necessary." I told him, rustling my shoulders, trying to find a comfortable bearing for my wolf pelt mantle.

Jon whirled on me, nostrils flared. "Not necessary? It's what we need to survive!"

"I know that," I calmly agreed.

"Then how could you think it's not necessary?"

"It's not necessary for our maesters to research the subject." I said. "Because I already know where it is."

That had Jon stop short, blinking. "You do? Where?"

"Dragonstone," was my answer. Ser Davos cursed from nearby, likely in remembrance. "Just as the castle of Casterly Rock was built over a mountain of gold, the castle of Dragonstone too was built over a mountain of dragonglass. The Valyrian's did not name the island Dragonstone when they claimed it, it had already held that name. They just planted a castle atop it and used the material to decorate."

"How do you know this?" Sansa asked, her brow furrowed in interest.

"My time at Last Hearth gave me little else to do other than read, and no matter how dull the study, it was better than doing nothing. I found tale of it there." This was in no way the truth. Rickon did read quite a bit, but his preferred method of curing boredom was to read tales of adventure so many times that he could recite their lines by memory alone. He would play at an actor for all the roles, male and female and even the pets, and treat those books as performances with stone walls and metal bars for an audience.

"Lord Manderly," I called. The portly man startled at my attention. "When this meeting ends, send a raven to White Harbor. Send word for any and all vessels not necessary for trading to ready their sails. I want them to be ready to ship miners and other menial workers to Dragonstone to gather and supply dragonglass to the North. We can discuss a rotation of ships later."

"Of course, your grace." He said, bowing his head in deference.

"The same goes for the rest of you." My words were meant for everybody. "Forge-workers and lumberers and builders will be needed now more than ever, to shore up our defenses and create our weapons. We need trenches dug and traps made ready, as well as swords and spears and arrowheads. Send ravens to your castle maesters and stewards commanding your commonfolk to come to both Winterfell and White Harbor, whichever is closer. The quicker they arrive, the better."

"Aye." The hall echoed.

That pleased me more than anything. I looked to Jon. My knowledge of what was to come was clear, but not absolute. I knew strategy and what may occur, but I unproven in war. I was no military tactician. "What else is needed? You are the most respected battle commander here."

He peered me over, respect in his features. "While we prepare for an attack, we need to shore up our defense. The only thing standing between us and the army of the dead is the Wall, and the Wall hasn't been properly manned in centuries."

I nodded, knowing that to be true. "And who do you think should man it?"

He mulled his words, eyeing the back of the hall. "Rickon Stark is not the king of the free folk, and neither am I. But if we're going to survive this winter together…"

"Heh," Tormund Giantsbane rumbled, approaching the high table with a slow swagger. "You want us to man the castles for you?"

"Aye." Jon said shortly, used to the man. "Last time we saw the Night King was at Hardhome. Closest castle to Hardhome is Eastwatch by the sea."

"Then that's where I'll go." Tormund grinned, snaking his head towards Lord Glover. His next words were derisive, meant to cause trouble. "Look's like we're the Night's Watch now." The Lord of Deepwood Motte's ears turned red, and he glared balefully at the lumbering man.

"If they breach the Wall, the first two castles are Last Hearth and Karhold." Jon said to the lords.

Yohn Royce took a stand. "The Umbers and the Karstarks betrayed the North. Their castles should be torn down with not a stone left standing."

"The castles committed no crimes, and we need every fortress for the war to come." Sansa refuted. Side-faced, she craned her neck my way and spoke directly towards me. "We should give Last Hearth and the Karhold to new families, loyal families who supported us against Ramsey."

I sighed. "The Umbers and the Karstarks have fought beside the Starks for centuries. They've kept faith for generation after generation."

"And then they broke faith." Sansa emphasized; her eyebrow arched.

I took a deep breath. Jon would allow them to keep their position had he been king, but Sansa was not speaking maliciously. Cold facts ran her through. "The Boltons had broken faith with House Stark time after time, but our ancestors kept them in power so that the rest of the North could see them lick their wounds and know that the Boltons were in the wrong, as were those that allied with them in those rebellions. But the Boltons are gone, and though Smalljon Umber and Harald Karstark perished with Ramsey, their descendants still live. Ned Umber. Alys Karstark. Approach."

From the back, they approached, nervous as all could be. Alys Karstark was a girl of orange hair and fair skin, a jutting chin and small nose. A stranger. Ned Umber was a boy with brown hair and blue eyes, freckled all over. I knew him well.

Ned Umber had been friend to Rickon Stark. They trained together under his father's heel until Greatjon Umber's remains had been brought to Last Hearth. When Smalljon Umber forbade Rickon from training, Ned had at first mocked him for it as many boys would, but then grew sullen without his friend and had taken to spending spare time sharing story with him. Ned's father saw the end to that.

"My father strongly believed in the law of the first men," I began. "He who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, the perhaps the man does not deserve to die. I mean to live and follow those words and pass them onto any children I might have, king or no. And as I look to the pair of you… I feel I cannot bear to take you from your homes.

"The Houses Karstark and Umber betrayed the North, that is plain and true. But the North cannot squabble now. The dead come to add the living to their ranks, and the more we fight amongst ourselves the easier their task it. If I am to die, I won't go meekly. And I won't let any of us do the same."

I stared the pair of them down. Alys was a girl of sixteen, and Ned was barely ten. "For centuries our families fought side by side on the battlefield. I ask you to pledge your loyalty once again to House Stark. To serve as our bannermen and come to our aid whenever called."

Swords were unsheathed from their waists, and the two knelt with the tip of their blades kissing the stone where the carved paws of direwolves raced.

"Stand," I commanded of them, and they did. I stared them down. "The North needs to band together. All the living North. Will you stand beside me, Ned and Alys? Now and always?"

""Now and always!"" They declared together, to the raucous bangs and hoots and cheers from all around. Smiles grew atop their faces, and infectiously I felt one grow on mine as well. As they took their seats, I returned to mine, and traded looks with Jon and Sansa. Jon appeared as if he could not have been more proud of my words, and Sansa, though disapproving, did not seem disappointed.