Chapter 42: Harrenhal's Fateful Tourney, and the Wolf Maid's Flight
The reign of Aerys II Targaryen, which had begun with such youthful promise, descended into a grim spectacle of paranoia and cruelty as the years wore on. His once-sharp mind, now addled by whispers of treachery and an obsessive fear of plots against his throne, became a fertile ground for madness. Tywin Lannister, his capable Hand, governed the realm with cold efficiency, but the relationship between the King and his most powerful servant was fractured by Aerys's jealousy and erratic pronouncements. The immortal Starks of the North, observing from their ancient vigil, saw the Seven Kingdoms teetering on the brink of an abyss, the Mad King's shadow stretching long and dark across the land.
Warden Edwyle Stark, his public persona that of a Northman well into his eighth decade (his true age now far exceeding a century and a quarter), continued to rule the North with quiet strength. His interactions with King's Landing were carefully managed, his primary concern the shielding of his kingdom from the growing instability of the South. His son and heir, Willam Stark (the immortal rider of Lumen, himself appearing as a seasoned lord in his prime despite his true age approaching a century), often represented Northern interests at court when required, his calm demeanor and keen intellect a stark contrast to the volatile atmosphere of the Red Keep.
The year two hundred and eighty-one After the Conquest brought the Great Tourney at Harrenhal, hosted by Lord Walter Whent. It was an event of unprecedented splendor, drawing lords and knights from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Warden Edwyle, citing his advanced age, declined to attend, sending instead his "grandson" – the public face of Willam Stark – accompanied by a retinue of Northern knights. Jon and the hidden council knew this tourney would be a nexus of ambition, intrigue, and perhaps, fateful encounters. Noctua's visions, relayed through Arya, had been filled with images of black armor, blue roses, and a wolf maid's tears, all shrouded in a sense of impending sorrow.
Willam Stark's reports from Harrenhal confirmed their unease. He spoke of King Aerys's bizarre behavior, his sudden rages and equally sudden bouts of forced joviality. He described the brilliance of the jousts, the emergence of a mystery knight, the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and the crowning of Lyanna Stark, the spirited young daughter of Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell (the head of the prominent mortal branch of House Stark, Warden Edwyle's most powerful vassal and kinsman), as queen of love and beauty by Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. This last act, Willam noted, sent a shockwave through the assembled nobility, for Rhaegar was already married to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne, and Lyanna was betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon of Storm's End.
"Rhaegar is playing with fire," Jon Stark's voice, ancient as the Frostfangs, echoed in the obsidian mirror during the council's debrief. "He is driven by prophecy, by a desperate desire to fulfill some Valyrian notion of a promised prince. This 'wolf maid' is but a pawn in his dangerous game, whether she knows it or not."
"Lord Rickard Stark is a proud, honorable man," Beron the Elder, his true age now exceeding two and a half centuries, added. "His son Brandon is even more hot-tempered. They will not take this slight lightly. And Robert Baratheon is a storm given human form."
The Starks' primary concern was how these southern passions might spill over into the North and disrupt their centuries of careful preparation. Their policy of non-interference was paramount, but the mortal Starks of Winterfell were their kin, their most visible representatives to the realm. An insult to them was, in a way, an insult to the North itself.
Rodrik Stark, Artos's son and the newest of the immortals, now a man whose true age was approaching sixty though he appeared in his Elixir-blessed prime, listened to these discussions with growing concern. His own children, young Brandon "Ben" Stark, now a keen-eyed lad of twelve, and his sister Lyarra the Youngest (named for Willam's sister, the nature warden), ten, were growing up in a North that was a hidden bastion of power, yet their mortal kin in Winterfell were about to be swept into a maelstrom. Rodrik, rider of the ice-dragon Glacies, felt the protective instincts of his lineage stir.
Jon Stark, sensing the younger immortal's disquiet, addressed him. "Your concern is natural, Rodrik. They are our blood. But we play a game that spans millennia. The squabbles of mortal lords, even Starks, even Targaryens, are but ripples on the surface of the deep ocean we navigate. We will observe. We will protect the North itself. But we will not be drawn into their self-made tragedies unless the existence of our entire kingdom, or our ultimate purpose, is directly threatened."
The "Winterquell" project, Jon's audacious endeavor to create a magical counter-resonance to the "Heart of Winter," reached a new stage of implementation. The seven great Resonance Dampeners beyond the Wall, massive constructs of Starksteel, weirwood, and obsidian, each powered by a colossal Heartstone crystal, were now fully attuned. Jon, with the combined will of all twelve immortal Starks and the harmonized "dragon song" of their fourteen dragons, initiated a sustained, low-frequency magical pulse across the network.
The effect was subtle but profound. The Ice Watchers in their hidden outposts reported a tangible "thinning" of the oppressive magical cold in the far North, a lessening of the unnatural silences, and even a slight retreat of the permanent ice shelves in certain remote regions. More significantly, the Sentinel Stones began to report a marked decrease in the cohesive energy signatures of the Others' scouting parties; they seemed disoriented, their ability to manipulate local ice and shadow diminished within the Dampeners' sphere of influence. It was not a final victory, but a significant blow, a demonstrable weakening of the enemy's ambient power. The risk, however, was that this sustained magical working might eventually draw a more direct, focused response from the true powers that lay slumbering in the ultimate North.
Arya Stark, her spirit now almost indistinguishable from the ancient consciousness of the weirwood network, made a discovery of immense importance. During a deep communion within the Isle of Faces' Dreaming Chamber (her consciousness traveling there astrally, guided by Noctua), the Children's spirits revealed to her the location of several hidden "Wellsprings of the Old Gods" scattered across the North – places where the primal magic of the earth and the ancient power of the First Men's deities converged with particular intensity. These Wellsprings, they explained, had been deliberately suppressed or forgotten during the Andal invasions and the rise of the Faith of the Seven. If reawakened and properly tended by those with the Sight and a true connection to the Old Gods, they could dramatically amplify the North's natural magical defenses and the vitality of the land itself. Arya, with Lyanna Sr., Serena, Lyra Sr., Arsa, and Lyarra the Youngest, began the sacred, secret work of locating and reawakening these ancient fonts of power.
The months following Harrenhal were thick with unspoken tensions. Rhaegar Targaryen, increasingly estranged from his father King Aerys, immersed himself in his studies and his music, his melancholy deepening. Lord Rickard Stark of Winterfell, deeply concerned by the events at the tourney, sought to hasten his daughter Lyanna's marriage to Robert Baratheon.
Then, in the early months of 282 AC, the spark ignited the pyre. News reached Winterfell, and then the hidden Stark council, that Lyanna Stark had disappeared from the Riverlands, apparently abducted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
Lord Rickard Stark was incandescent with fury. His eldest son and heir, Brandon Stark (the mortal one, a hot-blooded young man known for his "wolf blood"), rode south to King's Landing with a small retinue, demanding Rhaegar answer for his crime, shouting for the Prince to "come out and die."
King Aerys II, his mind now fully consumed by paranoia, saw this not as the desperate plea of an outraged father and brother, but as treason. He had Brandon Stark and his companions arrested. He then summoned Lord Rickard Stark to King's Landing to answer for his son's "crimes."
The immortal Starks watched this unfolding tragedy with a terrible clarity. "Aerys will show them no mercy," Warden Edwyle said, his voice grim in the obsidian mirror. "His madness now seeks only blood."
"Rickard and Brandon are walking into a death trap," Cregan Sr. (the former Warden) stated flatly. "Their Northern pride and honor will be their undoing in Aerys's court."
The hidden council convened in an emergency session. The lives of their prominent mortal kin were at stake. The honor of House Stark was being dragged through the mud. The North itself might be implicated in Aerys's mad accusations of treason.
"Do we intervene?" Rodrik, the newest immortal, asked, his voice tight with urgency, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of an unseen Starksteel sword. "We have the power. We could extract them. We could shield the North from Aerys's wrath."
Jon Stark listened, his ancient eyes holding the weight of centuries. The desire to protect their own, even their mortal kin, was a powerful instinct, one he understood well. But their primary directive, their sacred, unending vigil against the Long Night, could not be jeopardized by embroilment in the transient, if tragic, follies of southern kings.
"To reveal our hand now, for this," Jon said slowly, his voice resonating with a cold, hard finality, "would be to sacrifice centuries of preparation, to expose our deepest secrets to a world unready and unworthy of them. Aerys is mad, yes. Rhaegar is a fool driven by ill-understood prophecy. Rickard and Brandon, for all their honor, are acting with passion, not wisdom. Their fate, however tragic, is their own to meet within the confines of mortal laws and royal madness."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the anguished faces of his immortal descendants. "Our duty is to the North as a whole, to its enduring survival, to its preparedness for the true Winter. We will not unleash our dragons, nor our magic, nor our Starksteel, upon King's Landing for this. Warden Edwyle," he addressed his great-great-grandson, "you will prepare the North for the fallout. Strengthen our borders. Ensure our people are safe. Send messages of profound grief and outrage to King's Landing upon the inevitable news, but make no threats, offer no cause for Aerys to turn his madness fully upon us. We will weather this storm, as we have weathered all others, by standing firm, by remaining true to our own counsel, by preserving our true strength for the war that truly matters."
His words were a death knell for the mortal Starks of Winterfell caught in Aerys's grasp, but they were also the unwavering affirmation of the immortal council's ultimate purpose. The fate of Lord Rickard and his son Brandon was sealed by Aerys's madness. The abduction of Lyanna Stark had lit the fuse. Robert's Rebellion was about to erupt, a war that would change the face of Westeros.
And the Starks of Winter, the true, eternal Starks, would watch, their hearts perhaps heavy for their lost kin, but their resolve unshaken, their ancient vigil continuing, their gaze fixed firmly on the Long Night that lay beyond this fleeting, fiery storm of mortal ambition and despair. The world was about to change, but their purpose remained immutable.