The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

The sun had barely climbed over the horizon when Brandon sat in the great hall of Winterfell, listening to a villager grumble about the threat of roaming dire wolves near his farmstead. The man, weathered and thin looked anxious, twisting his cap in his hands as he spoke.

"They've been seen more often, my King. At night, mostly, but some of the children swear they saw one near the hills in daylight. We've lost a few sheep already and I fear it'll get worse if nothing's done."

Brandon nodded along his mind half on the dire wolves, half on the list of other problems that plagued his mind.

"I assume that the hunters and wargs in your village have already tried to get rid of them," Brandon asked, to which the villager nodded his head too. "I'll see what I can do."

The villager's expression eased, before he offered his thanks, as he did so the heavy doors of the hall creaked open. Halvar strode in before quietly closing the door, and unnoticed by the villager made his way to Brandon's side. Brandon raised an eyebrow before raising a hand to the villager. Without a word, Halvar leaned in and whispered into Brandon's ear.

"The Slate King has sent a message," Halvar murmured lowly. "The situation in his lands has worsened. The monsters there have seemed to form into some kind of party. Attacking villages, killing everyone before eating anything they can get their mouths on. He's asking for your help, along with the Umber and Frost King's aid."

Brandon frowned as he ran his fingers through his hair. First rebellions and now monster parties, and for monsters to band together and attack like this was most odd. He straightened in his seat before leaning into Halvar.

"How interesting, anything to do with Aloe?" Brandon replied softly, getting a shrug from Halvar before his eyes flicking back to the villager, whose nervousness had returned tenfold at the sight of Halvar's arrival and the whispered conversation.

He turned his attention back to the man. "Go home. Rest easy. I'll have hunters sent out immediately to deal with the wolves. There's no need to worry."

The villager, somewhat reassured, gave a grateful bow and hurried out of the hall. Once the doors had closed behind him, Brandon stood and faced Halvar.

"Gather the King's guard," Brandon said, his tone firm. "We'll ride for the Slate King's lands at first light. Don't bother with levies we will move fast and with only the best. Instead, let them guard home."

Halvar nodded, already turning to leave. "I'll see to it, my lord."

As he walked away, Brandon exhaled, feeling the weight of the world's problems settle on him.

The next day came quickly. Brandon stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, gathering his men as they readied themselves for the journey ahead. The air sharped with the bite of winter, as the dullard grey sky threatened them with more snow. Brandon's Kings guard assembled before him, along with the baggage train laden with oxen to carry their supplies, their fur cloaks, and weapons at the ready. At the head of them was Halvar, with his now eight-man team, prepared to lead the way.

Before marching off, Brandon turned to Elinor, her belly heavy with their unborn child. She smiled sweetly.

"Stay safe," she whispered, reaching out to stroke his stubbled beard.

Brandon cupped her face gently, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I will. I'll be back for our child."

Elinor nodded, her hand lingering on his face for just a moment longer before she stepped back. With a final glance, Brandon walked alongside Theon, Edric, and Lyanna, as they signalled to the men, and led the party out of Winterfell.

As they marched, the Winter Kingdom stretched out before them in a harsh and unforgiving beauty. The land had been shaped by the long winter, and while it remained as cold and cruel as ever, signs of a return were growing. Villages they passed had expanded, many with wooden palisades standing strong against the bitter winds. The people had just enough food to only have grumbling stomachs in the mornings. In the fields, frost-hardened grains stood tall against the cold, offering the promise of enough food to feed more than just the farmer.

As the weeks passed the group moved deeper into the wilderness, before they reached a river village its waters dark and cold, reflecting the steel-gray sky. The snow had fallen light that day before, so little work was needed to clear the boats to cross the river. Then they marched on, entering the lands of the Slate King.

The further they went, the more the villages grew sparse, many without any walls or sometimes even people, and even the ones there were gaunt with hunger. Fields lay barren, and the air held a desperate chill that went beyond the weather. The villagers, wrapped in rags and clutching thin cloaks, looked up as Brandon's party passed, their eyes filled with hunger.

"King Stark," they called, voices thin and pleading. "Have food to spare?"

Brandon halted, glancing at the men as they continued by. "We have some to give," Brandon said, signalling to Theon to distribute what little food they could spare. "I hope it helps you and keeps you hopeful."

The villagers gathered around eagerly as his men handed out the food, mainly strips of dried meat and some bread they carried. The wargs led by Halvar had hunted on the journey, bringing down wolves, boar, Ghoul, and some Driff. Their meat was strange and tough.

"Monster meat will do just fine," an older man said, accepting the flesh with a nod of thanks. "Lovely and fatty, perfect for frying up, oh aye."

The people, grateful for even the smallest bit of help, layered on their thanks as they ate before they grumbled about the Slate King. The village children's faces gaunt and pale, played with the warg animals and moved beside their masters as their parents chatted.

As the party moved on, leaving the villagers behind and moving to the next, Brandon's heart became heavier as he watched the same problem play out at every village they went to.

Brandon and his men rode through the last stretch of the Slate King's lands, weary from the journey. The snow had deepened after a few days of heavy snow, as the cold bit at their exposed skin. As they approached the Slate King's home village, Brandon noticed rows of tents scattered across the fields, their occupants huddled around fires, trying to keep warm.

The village was surrounded by a large wooden palisade, beyond it, Brandon could see the outline of the Slate King's wooden castle, looming against the gray sky. Men in armour moved about the camp, sharpening weapons, repairing shields, and murmuring amongst themselves, their eyes turning to the new arrivals as Brandon and his Kings guard rode through the camp gates. Some wore no colours or banners whilst others had motifs from Umbar and Frost Lands.

Halvar walked beside Brandon's having already seen this from his eagle's eyes. "More men here than I would have thought."

Brandon nodded in agreement, his gaze passing over the tents and campfires. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, unwashed bodies, and sizzling meat on every campfire.

As they entered the heart of the camp, Edwyn emerged from one of the larger tents. His beard was grizzled and hard, weighing down his face as his drooping weathered eyes looked out. His fur-lined cloak billowed slightly in the winter wind as he stepped forward, a tired smile breaking through the lines of worry etched into his face.

"Brandon," the Slate King called out, his voice quiet. "Glad you could make it."

Brandon raised his land clasping his forearm. "Good to see you too Edwyn, I came as soon as I could. I see things have gotten worse for you."

The Slate King sighed, as his shoulders slumped. "Worse doesn't begin to describe it. First barely any food, then a rebellion, and now a growing monster hoard. We've lost more villages than I care to count, and my men are tired and have had barely any rest."

Brandon glanced around at the gathered soldiers surrounding the sizzling campfires. "Well, at least your men have something to eat now. And quite a force you've mustered here."

"Aye," the Slate King replied, though his voice carried no pride. "But will it be enough? I don't know. They all come in packs and to top it off I have no idea what they are doing or wanting."

Brandon frowned at that, exchanging a glance with Halvar and Edric. "Guess we will have to find out."

Edwyn clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm grateful, Brandon. Truly. Harmond and Frost's main force should be joining us soon." Edwyn motioned toward the wooden castle in the distance. "Come, we'll talk more inside."