"I never thought Mance Rayder would wind up leading multiple wildling tribes and name himself King-beyond-the-Wall." said Harry, spinning a dagger between his fingers after listening keenly to the tale told by Waymar Royce and his uncle Benjen Stark.
"It's not just about Mance's persuasive skills. The Walkers have started making moves on the wildling clans. They've started attacking them, forcing the otherwise warring clans to unite." Benjen added.
"I see." Harry murmured thoughtfully before shrugging his shoulders, "This was not an unforeseen event. I gathered the wildling clans would unite at some point. A common threat tends to unite even the stubbornest men for a common purpose."
"Unfortunately, that common purpose involves breaching the Wall, Prince Harrion." Ser Waymar said with a grim look. "There'll be war, and both sides will bleed."
"Both sides?" Harry raised an eyebrow and stared, intrigued, at the Vale knight. "Am I to assume you are concerned about the well-being of wildlings, Ser Waymar?"
The youngest scion of House Royce flushed red under Harry's scrutiny.
"I think the Watch will lose precious lives and resources fighting the wildlings when we should be focused on the bigger threat – the White Walkers." Ser Waymar hastily said, refusing to look at Harry anywhere but in the eyes.
But Harry had already seen what he wanted to see from the Vale knight's mind. It was laughably easy to sift through the memories of the young knight with just a glance for someone as well versed in the mind arts as Harry. Those memories spoke of the importance of the situation at hand. The fact that the Walkers were out hunting for wildlings to create more wights was concerning. Harry had assumed that the Great Other or Balor, as he knew him, would shift his strategy to something other than the same playbook played out thousands of years ago.
'Is it the curse of all magical beings to stagnate once they reach the pinnacle of their power?' Harry wondered in the privacy of his mind.
He had seen it happen in the wizarding world and even in this world. If true, then Harry worried about the future of his descendants and the magical bloodlines of the North. The threat of stagnation was a serious concern. But the threat of White Walkers took precedence.
"The Walkers – you said you fought them. What were they like?" Harry asked, returning to the discussion at hand.
"It was not much of a fight. My sword shattered upon touching the skin of the Walker into a thousand pieces."
Harry absently nodded, replaying the scene in his mind. The magic wielded by the Walkers was extremely interesting to Harry's eyes. It was not just that they were wielding extreme cold as a weapon. It was magic in its raw form, turned into pure destructive power and worn as a shield around the creature's body. It was why only another fiercely destructive magic could pierce the protective armour of the Walkers. The Valyrians had their charmed stele, and the Westerosi had enchanted dragonglass weapons to pierce through most magical protections.
"These Walkers you encountered, they had weapons, yes?" Harry asked curiously.
"Yes, Prince Harrion. They wielded weapons of ice capable of cutting through steel and armour as if they were made of butter." Waymar said with a shiver at the reminder of his experience in the haunted forest with his fellow rangers.
Harry exchanged a look with Jon, who was also listening to the conversation.
"How many Walkers do you reckon are out there?" Jon asked while Harry keenly observed the Vale knight.
"I don't know." Waymar said honestly. "Maybe hundreds or maybe thousands."
Harry felt that line of questioning was useless, as he could feel there was nothing much the Vale knight could offer in terms of information on the enemy. At the same time, he could see Ser Waymar was on the edge of hysteria when he relived the memories of the encounter with the Walkers.
"What has Mance Rayder said about the Walkers?" Harry asked instead, focusing his legilimency probe on ascertaining that no falsehoods were shared and nothing was missed or misconstrued.
"Only that they were unnatural beings of death, and they are hunting the wildling tribes to raise an army of wights. He says there are giant ice spiders and other terrible creatures under the White Walkers' command."
Harry hoped there were no dragons under the command of the Walkers because that would complicate much of the strategy he had devised against the threat. Still, ice spiders were a concern, and no one knew what else this thousands-of-years-old enemy had in store for humanity as a whole when they came knocking.
"So, what does Mance Rayder want with this gesture?" Harry asked, looking pointedly at the compass lying on the top of the table.
"He seeks refuge for his people behind the Wall."
"That is out of the question. The North could ill afford to host wildlings on the south side of the Wall. The lords of the North have fought for centuries to keep them out of our side of the Wall." Jon shook his head.
"I agree. Besides, even if by some miracle we manage to convince some, I don't think wildlings will fit in. They'll sooner fight amongst each other or raid the lands and castles of the North." said Benjen.
"I know they're not the best of people, but the alternative is more threatening. If the Walkers get their hands on the rest of the wildlings, the Wall will drown under hundreds of thousands of wights." Ser Waymar reminded them, leaving Harry in a quandary about how to move forward.
"You've met this Mance Rayder before, brother. If he agrees to bend his knee and swear vows of fealty to House Stark…" Jon trailed off with an expectant look.
"The wildlings won't kneel." Waymar suddenly interjected, but then he realised he had spoken too soon, "I mean, they hate doing that. If Mance Rayder bends the knee, the wildling clans will turn on him."
Harry laughed, with his shoulders shaking, at the prospect of romanticising the wildlings and their sense of independence.
"Let me tell you something, Ser. There are only two things that determine the survival of a civilisation – coin and power. Those who lack both will soon find themselves as footnotes in the pages of history or worse. The wildlings are such a group, and the time has come for them to take the step that would either doom them or preserve them."
Harry turned his back on everyone in the chamber to stare out the window. His eyes fell on the fluttering banners of House Stark, flying proudly over the towers and walls of the castle. He considered his options as he gathered his thoughts on the matter. While true, he had ensured the Wall and the Gift were prepared to put up a proper defence in case the Walkers threw their wights at them, the truth was the North was not yet ready to take on the Walkers and the Great Other. The simple fact was that the North was too vast to gather the entire host on short notice.
Already, Avalon was gathering a substantial host for a proper invasion of the Iron Islands. Now was the proper time to wipe out the Ironborn for good and establish the North's influence in the islands. While doing this, he also had to keep an eye on the true price – Dorne. It didn't matter to Harry whether the wildling clans turned into wights and fought for the enemy. Wights were not a threat to him, and he already possessed weapons of great power that he could use to wipe out the enemy at his pleasure.
Right now, he had no reason to take huge risks by trying to accommodate the fragile egos of a bunch of useless barbarians.
"The North is not in a position to accommodate hundreds of thousands of wildlings within our borders. We have legitimate security concerns once they're on this side of the Wall. The decision, anyway, lies with the King in the North, and I doubt Mance Rayder can offer anything to get my father to consort with wildlings."
"But…" Waymar started to protest, only for Harry to raise his hand.
"However, I'm not without mercy. If Mance Rayder is so intent on saving his people, I'm willing to give refuge to the women and children of the tribes in Blacktyde." Harry offered, but not before adding, "Of course, this must require my father's permission."
"But you don't understand the danger we face, Prince Harrion. If the wildlings are not allowed to cross, they'll become wights to the White Walkers." Waymar said desperately, his eyes showing the beginning of hysteria.
"I understand more than you think, Ser. If the wildlings are allowed to settle behind the Wall, they must abide by the rules of the North. Are you confident a bunch of barbarians will follow the rules and not provoke a war with the lords of the North bordering the Gift?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.
Silence was the answer he got from both men. In the end, one had to face the reality that no wildling would be welcomed behind the Wall. To do so would undo all the goodwill House Stark had cultivated with the lords of the North. The best Harry could offer was shelter for women and children, and ensure the Northern lords raised their banners to fight alongside wildling men against the White Walkers.
"My offer still stands should Mance Rayder be amicable. In the interest of peace, I'm willing to arm the wildlings with dragonglass weapons capable of harming the White Walkers and maybe even provide food should they need it. But I don't believe anyone in the North would accept wildlings who swore no oaths to the Winter throne refuge in our lands." Harry said with a note of finality. "Should my father agree, I believe a case could be made to give refuge to the Giants as well."
"A most generous and reasonable offer, nephew. I believe we shall discuss this with his grace and Lord Commander Mormont in detail." Benjen said graciously.
Harry watched Waymar Royce and his uncle take their leave. He suspected his father would be least interested in allowing any wildlings safe passage to this side of the Wall. After all, it ill behoves a king's first act to be so unpopular that it attracts the ire of lords from the Neck to the Wall.
"Do you think this Mance Rayder will accept your offer?" Jon asked once they were alone in the chamber.
"I doubt he will. A man with a large army behind him will feel taller than the Wall. He'll likely try to cross the Wall once word reaches him." Harry said with a shrug.
"Is that what we want right now?" Jon asked, tapping the Iron Islands on the map.
"In an ideal world, we could've embraced the wildlings and lived happily ever after. But this is anything but an ideal world. The lords of the North will never trust the wildlings, nor will I."
"So… war it is then." Jon muttered.
Harry didn't say anything and merely looked at the map of Westeros sprawled before them on the table.
"I think it's time that you spent some time with the Mormonts and spent some time with your betrothed. Gather the levies from Bear Islands and await word from Elsera and Josera." Harry plucked the wolf figurine and placed it on the Iron Islands. "First, we secure our position in the sea and destroy the Ironborn. Everything else can be dealt with later."
*******
The chamber was lit with flickering candlelight, the stone walls of the Red Keep casting long shadows as the night deepened. Stannis Baratheon sat at the high seat of his small council chamber, his face set in a grim expression, eyes burning with anger. In his hand, the letter from Winterfell lay crumpled, read and reread, its words seared into his mind like the branding of a traitor. Lord Eddard Stark had declared the North's secession, withdrawing fealty from the Iron Throne—treason, plain and simple.
"Traitors! I'm surrounded by traitors!" Stannis thundered with rage flashing in his eyes as he threw the letter away.
Everyone in the small council chamber flinched at the rage rolling off their king in waves.
The small council was now filled with all positions, though it was not without fault. Renly was given the post of Master of Coin, and Ser Davos was given the post of Master of Ships. With Renly's addition, the overwhelming presence of Stormlanders in the small council was now undeniable, with Lord Gulian Swann serving as Master of Laws. Ser Davos' ascension as the Master of Ships seems to have provoked the Narrow Sea lords to swear allegiance to Viserys Targaryen.
At the same time, these changes dispelled the accusation of favouring the Reach too much. With Lord Redwyne and Oakheart leaving their posts, the Reach was now represented by Lord Alester Florent and Grand Maester Gormon. It was a good, small council but not balanced enough, lacking representatives from the Riverlands, the North, the Vale, the Westerlnds and Dorne.
"The North has betrayed the realm," he said, his voice like steel scraping against stone. "Eddard Stark dares to withdraw his loyalty to the rightful king and declare himself independent. This cannot stand. This council is supposed to advise me. Give me advice on how to deal with the North."
"My lord, the North is vast and strong. Winterfell commands thousands of bannermen, and they are fiercely loyal to House Stark. If we march against them now, we risk stretching ourselves too thin, especially with Viserys Targaryen making a ruckus in the Narrow Sea." Grand Maester Gormon said after careful thought.
Stannis turned his sharp gaze upon Grand Maester Gormon.
"So, you propose we let this insult go unanswered? That I allow traitors to carve away the kingdoms while I sit idle?" he thundered.
"No, your grace," the Grand Maester said quickly. "Only that we must be wise in our approach. A war on too many fronts could break us before we begin."
"It also has to be noted that the North is vast and does not share any land borders with the Crownlands. Even if his grace decides to send an army, our men will have to pass through the Riverlands." Lord Gulian Swann pointed out the most obvious hurdle to any talk of an invasion of the North.
"With Lord Eddard crowning his wife as Queen of the North, would House Tully side with the Iron Throne?" Lord Alester muttered, but his words were heard loud and clear.
"The Vale has already turned against us, with Lady Lysa accusing the Iron Throne of her misfortunes. We must be cautious not to provoke a response from the Riverlands, your grace." Ser Barristan, ever the voice of reason, advised.
"Then what do you suggest, Ser? That I should suffer this insult and turn a blind eye to traitors?" Stannis snapped, hearing only excuses from his council.
"I'll never ask you to ignore treason, your grace. I merely advise caution and ensure you maintain your hold on the Riverlands before making any drastic decisions." Ser Barristan explained.
"Enough with politics. The only answer to treason is fire and steel. The North must be brought to heel." said Renly, scowling at the small council members.
"And how do you propose we do that?" Lord Gulian asked with a snort. "Sail ships into the Wolfswood? March an army through the Neck while the Crannogmen harry our every step?"
Renly's face reddened at the challenge to his suggestion, taking offence to the words from his bannerman.
"Lord Stark claims his bannermen have become tired of fighting battles for southerners and accuses us of unjustly taxing his lands without any consultation. Instead of planning an invasion of the North, we must send an envoy to negotiate a peaceful resolution and urge Lord Stark to return to the fold." Grand Maester Gormon suggested.
"I agree with the Grand Maester, your grace. If words could avoid a battle…" Ser Davos trailed off, feeling the scrutiny of his fellow council members.
"You'd advise me to negotiate with an oathbreaker who threatens my rightful reign?" Stannis glared at everyone.
"Your grace, your great-grandfather, Lord Lyonel Baratheon, declared himself the Storm King when Prince Duncan Targaryen broke his betrothal with Lord Lyonel's daughter. King Aegon settled the matter without a war and restored peace to the realm. Perhaps we should give words a chance before we use steel." Lord Gulian reiterated his appeal for diplomacy once again, and it gained some traction with Stannis.
"Fine! Since you have presented this suggestion, I charge you with negotiating the return of the North into the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Swann." Stannis declared.
"I shall try my utmost to keep the North with us, your grace." Lord Swann dipped his head.
"Now, why was the Master of Whispers completely oblivious to such treason spreading within the largest kingdom of Westeros?" Stannis turned his ire on his spy, but Varys was prepared.
"I did warn Lord Jon Arryn and King Robert about the discontent spreading among the lords of the North. They took ample actions to appease the Northern lords during the Lannister rebellion. If you remember your grace, I mentioned there was great discontent in the North about Lord Arryn's refusal to act against the Sistermen." Varys said with a simpering smile.
Stannis could only grit his teeth at the reminder of his previous Hand's stubbornness in refusing to keep his troublesome bannermen in check. That folly was making things difficult for him at a crucial juncture.
"We must also prepare for the possible consequences the North's secession will create in the other kingdoms, namely the Westerlands. My brother serves as the Lord of Lannisport, but he needs…"
Stannis rubbed his face tiredly while listening to his Hand make plans to deal with the consequences that'd arise from the actions of House Stark. It was not just the Westerlands he needed to worry about. What stopped the rest of the kingdoms from declaring their independence, especially Dorne? The threat of Targaryen resurgence and the North's secession, therefore, was an issue he had to deal with promptly before more enemies sensed weakness and acted against the Iron Throne.
AN:
To read ahead of the update schedule; pat(r) eon. C (O) M/Dragonspectre.
For artwork related to the fic:
https://discord.gg/Nw2JH25fJf