Chapter 25: The Golden Feast of Skagos and the Binding of the North
The ravens that flew from Skagos that year carried invitations unlike any the North had ever seen. Sealed with the imposing wolf-and-kraken of House Volmark, pressed into heavy, cream-colored parchment that spoke of resources far beyond typical Northern austerity, they summoned the lords and ladies of the North to a series of wedding feasts. Lord Aelyx Volmark and his lady wife, Lyanna of House Stark, were to celebrate the marriages of their five elder children – Torrhen, Visenya, Lyra, Maegor, and Aenar – to scions of the most respected Northern houses. The celebrations, the invitations hinted, would span a full turn of the moon, a testament to the joy and prosperity of Skagos.
What the invitations did not, and could not, convey was the true scale of the magnificence Aelyx intended to unleash. This was not merely a series of weddings; it was a calculated display of power, a coronation of House Volmark as the undisputed economic and influential titan of the North, a spectacle designed to dwarf even the rumored splendors of Casterly Rock or Highgarden, ensuring that every Northern lord departed Skagos bound by awe, gratitude, and the undeniable weight of Volmark gold.
As autumn painted the rugged landscapes of Skagos in hues of russet and gold, the fleets of the Northern lords began to arrive in Shadowport. Lord Wyman Manderly's great silver galleys, Lord Harrion Karstark's sturdy warships, the Umber longships, the Mormont cogs – even the reclusive Lord Martyn Reed, with his son Howland, poled into the harbor aboard a surprisingly swift, dark-hulled vessel from the Neck. King Torrhen Stark himself, with a large retinue including his wife Lady Arra and several of his children, arrived aboard a Volmark flagship sent as a royal escort, the Winter's Pride, a vessel whose luxurious appointments and silent speed were a subtle prelude to the wonders awaiting them.
What greeted them in Shadowport was a city transformed. The already formidable port was draped in banners of every conceivable Northern house, interspersed with the dominant wolf-and-kraken. The streets, paved with smooth black stone, were spotlessly clean, patrolled by disciplined Skagosi guards in gleaming new steel armor, their breastplates bearing the Volmark sigil picked out in polished silver. The air thrummed with anticipation and the scent of roasting meats, exotic spices, and the faint, sweet perfume of unknown flowers blooming in window boxes even as autumn deepened – a subtle testament to the Glass Gardens' bounty. Merchants from a dozen lands (carefully vetted and managed by Aelyx's agents) filled the marketplaces, offering wares that hinted at Skagos's burgeoning, far-reaching trade.
Icefang Keep, high on its crag, was a beacon of light and revelry. Its black stone walls were softened by cascading banners of velvet and silk in hues of violet, sea-green, and Stark grey. Torches burned with unusually bright, steady flames (a trick of alchemically treated oils), and within its vast halls, the preparations were on a scale that beggared belief. Hundreds of house-elves, glamoured into an army of impeccably efficient human servants, moved with silent grace, orchestrating every detail under Mipsy's (as 'Head Steward Myra') omniscient direction.
The wedding ceremonies themselves were staggered over several weeks, each a unique blend of Northern tradition and a subtle, dignified grandeur that Aelyx termed 'Old Valyrian custom.' For the public rites, a new godswood had been consecrated on a sheltered plateau behind Icefang Keep, its heart tree a magnificent ancient weirwood that Aelyx, through considerable effort and expense (and some deeply hidden magic to ensure its survival and rapid acclimation), had transplanted from a remote Northern forest, a gift to his Stark wife that further cemented his respect for Northern traditions. Here, before the weeping face of the weirwood, under the watchful eyes of the Old Gods and the assembled Northern nobility, the vows were exchanged.
Torrhen Volmark, his violet eyes solemn and his bearing regal, took Myranda Manderly as his wife. Myranda, resplendent in a gown of Merman-green silk gifted by her Volmark in-laws, her practical Manderly sense somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer opulence, nonetheless spoke her vows with a firm voice. Visenya Volmark, a fiery vision in crimson and gold, her silver-Valyrian hair adorned with dark Northern pearls, exchanged vows with a clearly smitten Ser Bennard Karstark, who seemed both intimidated and exhilarated by his fierce, beautiful bride. Lyra Volmark, gentle and ethereal in a gown of pale green embroidered with silver weirwood leaves, was wed to Howland Reed in a quiet, deeply resonant ceremony that seemed to hum with ancient magic, the two of them sharing a silent understanding that transcended mere words. Maegor Volmark, roaring with laughter and joy, took the equally spirited Eddara Umber as his wife, their ceremony a boisterous affair filled with Northern robustness. And finally, Aenar Volmark, quiet and scholarly, exchanged vows with the demure but intelligent Lyarra Snow, whose gratitude and relief at such an honorable and wealthy match were palpable.
Each ceremony was followed by days of feasting, each surpassing the last in its lavishness. The Great Hall of Icefang Keep, expanded by mundane and magically-assisted means to accommodate hundreds, seemed to groan under the weight of the bounty. Aelyx, drawing upon the limitless potential of the Philosopher's Stone and Flamel's alchemical genius, presented a culinary spectacle that would become the stuff of Northern legend.
There were whole roasted aurochs, their horns tipped with gold leaf; shoals of silver salmon from Skagosi rivers, baked in clay with herbs from the Glass Gardens that tasted of summer itself; pies filled with shadow-cat meat, snow bear haunches spiced with exotic peppers from distant Yi Ti (acquired through Aelyx's discreet trade networks); mountains of oysters, crabs, and colossal lobsters from the icy depths of the Shivering Sea. Fruits unknown to the North – blood oranges, sweet melons, purple grapes bursting with wine-like juice – overflowed from silver platters, all cultivated year-round in the impossible warmth of the Skagosi Glass Gardens. Breads of a dozen varieties, cakes frosted with spun sugar that glittered like hoarfrost, and rivers of wine – Dornish reds, Arbor golds, strong Northern ales, and a unique, potent Skagosi mead brewed with mountain heather and a hint of something subtly magical that induced euphoria and vivid dreams – flowed without end.
The tableware itself was a statement. Goblets of beaten gold, plates of silver, cutlery with obsidian handles – all seemingly produced from Skagos's own "inexhaustible mines." The Northern lords, accustomed to pewter, wood, and perhaps a few treasured silver pieces, ate and drank in a daze of appreciative disbelief. This was not merely wealth; this was an assertion of almost divine fortune.
Entertainment was constant and varied. Bards from across the North, and even a few from the Free Cities (lured by promises of Volmark patronage), sang epics of the Ironborn defeat, of the valor of the Volmark children, of the wisdom of Lord Aelyx, and the blessings of the Old Gods upon Skagos. Acrobats and tumblers performed feats of daring. Dancers from distant lands, their movements exotic and captivating, twirled through the halls. Aelyx even arranged for a troupe of mummers to perform a grand, heroic play depicting the founding of House Volmark and its loyal service to House Stark – a piece of masterful propaganda that brought tears to the eyes of many a sentimental Northern lord.
Aelyx and Lyanna presided over this month-long spectacle with effortless grace. Aelyx, the perfect host, moved among his guests, his violet eyes missing nothing, his words always charming, insightful, and generous. He spoke with Lord Manderly about expanding the Skagosi-White Harbor trade axis, offering new, incredibly favorable terms. He discussed joint ventures with Lord Karstark to exploit timber resources, with Volmark gold providing the upfront capital. He offered Lord Umber advanced Skagosi designs for border forts and the funds to build them. To Lady Mormont, he pledged an annual "gift" from the Heir's Hoard to maintain Bear Island's defenses and support its people. He listened patiently to every lord's concerns, offering sage advice, subtle guidance, and, where strategically advantageous, generous financial aid.
Lyanna, a true Stark of Winterfell, yet now also the immortal Lady of Skagos, was the bridge between two worlds. Her presence reassured the Northern lords of House Volmark's enduring loyalty to Northern traditions, even amidst this almost un-Northern opulence. She spoke with the Northern ladies, her quiet strength and wisdom earning their deep respect. She guided her new daughters-in-law and sons-in-law, helping them navigate their new lives and the expectations of their formidable father-in-law. Myranda Manderly, with her practical mind, found herself increasingly impressed by the sheer efficiency of Icefang Keep's household (unaware of the house-elf magic that powered it). Eddara Umber reveled in the boisterous, martial atmosphere Maegor cultivated among his Skagosi guards. Howland Reed found a kindred spirit in Lyra, the two of them often retreating to the quiet of the newly established godswood or exploring the wilder, magically-tinged landscapes near the Glass Gardens. Ser Bennard Karstark, initially overwhelmed by Visenya's fiery spirit, found himself increasingly captivated by her intellect and power, recognizing that his alliance with House Volmark had catapulted him to a station beyond his wildest dreams. Lyarra Snow, quiet and observant, blossomed under Aenar's gentle, scholarly companionship and the respect she received as a Lady Volmark.
The bonds between the Volmark children and their new spouses began to form, forged in the shared spectacle of the feasts, the public expectations, and the private moments Aelyx subtly orchestrated to encourage compatibility. He cared little for romantic love, but he understood the value of stable, functional unions for the production of his next generation of heirs.
As the weeks of celebration drew to a close, Aelyx hosted a final grand tournament – archery, melee, and a spectacular mock sea battle in Shadowport harbor, where the Volmark fleet demonstrated its terrifying precision and firepower (using blunted ammunition, of course). The prizes were, naturally, of immense value: Valyrian steel daggers for the champions, purses heavy with Skagosi gold, beautifully crafted armor.
Before the Northern lords departed, each received a personal farewell gift from Lord Aelyx Volmark – chests of gold, rare Skagosi artifacts, bolts of precious cloth, casks of the finest spirits – gifts so generous they represented years of income for many lesser houses. They left Skagos not just impressed, but utterly awed, their loyalty to House Volmark bought and paid for many times over, their minds filled with tales of a generosity and wealth that would make the richest Lannister of Casterly Rock seem a cautious merchant.
King Torrhen Stark, as he prepared to leave, clasped Aelyx's hand with genuine emotion. "Aelyx, my kinsman, my lord. What you have done here… it has bound the North together in a way I have never seen. Your generosity, your strength, your wisdom… Skagos is truly the brightest jewel in the North's crown. Our alliance is the bedrock of our future."
Aelyx bowed his head. "Your Grace, it is House Volmark's profound honor to serve the North and its King. Our prosperity is your prosperity. Our strength is your strength."
As the last ships of the Northern lords sailed away from Shadowport, leaving Skagos to its misty, enigmatic peace, Aelyx stood with Lyanna on the highest tower of Icefang Keep. The cost of the month-long celebration had been astronomical by any mundane measure, enough to bankrupt a lesser kingdom. To Aelyx, with the Philosopher's Stone at his command, it was a trivial investment for an incalculable return.
He had not merely hosted weddings; he had bought the unwavering loyalty of an entire kingdom. He had showcased a power so immense, yet so benignly presented, that none would dare question his motives or his methods. His children were now firmly integrated into the Northern nobility, their spouses bound to Skagos, their future offspring destined to swell the ranks of his hidden, magical dynasty. The North was secure, a willing shield, its resources and its people now inextricably linked to the fortunes of House Volmark.
The vision of Aegon's fiery conquest still flickered at the distant edges of his greensight, a reminder of future challenges. But for now, Aelyx allowed himself a moment of cold, profound satisfaction. The golden feast of Skagos had ended, but the golden age of his hidden empire was just beginning, its foundations stronger and more unshakeable than ever. The North was his, in all but name. And the world beyond would, in time, learn the true meaning of Volmark power.