The year 281 AC.
Eddard Stark stood at the bow of his flagship, the White Pearl, as it glided through the waters of the Narrow sea. The sight of Maidenpool loomed before him. Behind him, three ships bearing the banner of the Children of Winter—a silver snowflake on a white field—followed in formation, a mere fraction of a greater fleet.
The wind carried whispers to his ears, hushed conversations among his men. They spoke of home, of the North, and of the tournament to come. Eddard closed his eyes, memories of another life flashing through his mind—memories of shinobis, of hidden villages hidden, of battles fought with chakra and steel, of a plan for peace that had gone so terribly wrong.
I am not Madara Uchiha anymore, he reminded himself. I am Eddard Stark, second son of Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.
Yet, the mind of Madara remained, calculating and observing everything. This world had no chakra, but it had other forms of power—gold, soldiers, ships, and the complex web of alliances that bound the Seven Kingdoms together and most importantly magic. Ned eyes turned white for a moment as a great white hawk cried in the sky . For eighteen years, he had adapted, learned, and built his strength in this new life.
"Lord commander," came a deep, rumbling voice behind him. "The men are ready."
Eddard turned to face Ivar, a towering giant of a man with a thick red beard and intelligent eyes. Despite his massive frame, there was a sharpness to him that few ever noticed and a love for knowledge and strategy that had made him invaluable to Eddard's cause.
"The Wise Titan," Eddard said with a slight smile. "Tell me, what do you think of the tourney at Harrenhal?"
Ivar hummed "it's full of lords and ladies from across the Seven Kingdoms. Every eye will be upon us when we arrive"
"Good," replied Eddard. "Let them see what the North is capable of. Let them see what we've built."
"They already whisper about you," said Ivar. "The Ambitious Wolf, they call you. Some with admiration, others with fear. especially with a king like aerys. after all no second son should have an armada of fifty ships and an army of five thousand men "
Eddard smiled "politics how lovely and bothresome".
Eddard's expression remained impassive, but inwardly, he was pleased. Fear was a useful tool—one he had wielded effectively in his previous life. In this life, he had built a reputation not through sharingan and jutsu, but through strategic brilliance and sheer force of will.
"The ship is ready to dock, my lord!" called out the captain.
"Very well," Eddard replied. "Signal the rest of the ships to anchor in formation. I want the Children of Winter visible to all who look upon the lake."
He adjusted the magnificent Valyrian steel greatsword strapped to his back—Winter, a blade he had claimed a year prior from a pirate lord of Valyrian descent. The sword's rippling patterns reminded him of the legendary weapons of his former world, though this one held no chakra, no special power beyond its exceptional sharpness and strength.
Eddard wore armor of northern design but with subtle influences from his travels in Essos—plates of silvery steel adorned with engravings of wolves and snowflakes, all atop a white surcoat bearing the silver snowflake of his personal army. At his chest gleamed the silver snowflake badge that marked him as the commander of the Children of Winter.
As the White Pearl docked, a delegation awaited him on the shore. Eddard recognized his elder brother Brandon immediately—tall, handsome, and wearing the direwolf of House Stark proudly on his chest. Beside him stood their younger sister Lyanna, wild and beautiful, her gray eyes alight with excitement. Their youngest brother, Benjen, barely fourteen, stood beside them with an expression of awe as he beheld the fleet.
"Ned!" called Brandon as Eddard descended the gangplank, flanked by Ivar and his other commanders. "Seven hells, I barely recognized you. You look like you've been fighting giants in the east!"
Eddard embraced his brother firmly. It had been nearly two years since he had last returned to Winterfell.
"Brandon," he said, his voice carrying a certain gravity that had not been there in his youth. "It's good to see you."
Brandon laughed. "Still as serious as ever, I see." He lowered his voice. "Though I hear they call you the Ice Heart in Braavos. Something about spurning the Black Pearl herself?"
"Tales grow in the telling," Eddard replied neutrally, though there was truth to the story. The famous courtesan had indeed offered herself to him, and he had indeed declined he went there to do business not to fool around.
Lyanna flung herself into his arms next. "Ned! You must tell me everything about what you did for the past two years. oh by the gods is that the famous winter show it to me please."
Eddard allowed himself a small smile as he embraced his sister. In this life, Eddard had come to value these connection as genuine bonds.
"All in good time, Lya. First, let me greet our little brother."
Benjen straightened as Eddard approached him. "You've grown, Ben," Eddard said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Soon you'll be taller than Brandon."
"I've been practicing with the sword," Benjen replied eagerly. "And Lord Manderly's maester has been teaching me about trade and ships. I want to join your Children of Winter someday." "pehaps when you ae older".
Ned gave Lyanna the sword. Brandon and Benjen joined her to ispect it. "it's as big as ice" she said. Brandon clapped him on the shoulder "you gave house Stark another valiryan sword, father was proud when we first heard the news well done brother"
Benjen spoke " both you and Brandon have a valiryan sword what about me" "don't worry I will find you one".
"I hope you are doing well children of the winter kings" came the soothing voice of Ivar. Brandon exclaimed "well if itsn't my favorite free folk propably the only one" he finished with a grin. it was quite the surprise for them when they found out that Ned second in command is from byond the wall. But Ivar prouved that he is quite the capable man and he impressed lord Rickard Stark something few ould do.
in the next they headed to Harrenhall for the tourney.
As they walked toward the vast encampment surrounding Harrenhal, Eddard took note of the banners flying above the tents—Tully, Arryn, Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, and dozens of lesser houses. Most importantly, he observed the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, signaling the presence of the royal family. well the crown prince to be exact.
"well fuck me if it isn't Eddard bloody Stark" Robert Baratheon exclaimed. Ned looked at him and replide with a cool voice "I prefer women" "yet you refused the black pearl of Braavos " " I did" . Robert started laughing of course you did only you will refuse suh an offer" . they embraced each other " man I missed your dry jests Ned" " I wish I could say the same" "just lie like I did". Ned pinted a finger at him "you are learning".
"Lord Arryn has been asking after you," Robert mentioned as they walked. "He seems eager to see how his former ward has fared."
As they approached the Stark pavilion, Eddard noticed how people stopped to stare at their passing. Lords and knights whispered behind their hands, pointing at him and his companions. The Children of Winter had made a name for themselves in Essos, but this was the first time many in Westeros had laid eyes on their commander.
******
The Great Hall of Harrenhal was filled to capacity that evening, with tables groaning under the weight of food and drink. Musicians played from the galleries, and servants hurried to and fro, ensuring no cup remained empty for long.
Eddard sat at the high table alongside his siblings, having been granted a place of honor as befitted his status. From this vantage point, he could observe the entire hall and the various factions within it. He was talkin with Jon Arryn. "It gladdens my heart to see you well."said jon "I've heard remarkable things about your exploits in Essos, Five thousand men and fifty ships, they say. Quite an achievement for a second son."
"The world is full of opportunities for those who seek them," Eddard replied.
Jon's eyes twinkled. "Indeed. And I hear the North's trade has flourished with your new connections. Your lord father speaks highly of your endeavors."
Before Eddard could respond, a beautiful melody started playing and all eyes went towads the bard prince . he noticed the tears in Lyanna eyes and how Benjen mocked her , he got a drink spilled on his head for his trouble.
As the feast continued, Brandon leaned over to Eddard with a mischievous grin. "Time you danced with someone, brother. You can't spend the entire evening brooding in the corner."
Before Eddard could protest, Brandon had signaled to a beautiful young woman with olive skin and dark, liquid eyes. "Lady Ashara Dayne," Brandon introduced. "Sister to the famous Sword of the Morning. Lady Ashara, my brother, Lord Eddard Stark."
Ashara Dayne curtseyed gracefully. "Lord Eddard. Your reputation precedes you."
Eddard replide politely " and the rumors don't do your beauty justice". He stood and offered his hand to Lady Ashara. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, my lady?"
She took his hand, her touch light as a feather. "The honor is mine, my lord."
As they joined the other dancers, Eddard moved with surprising grace for a man of his martial bearing. His time in Essos had required him to learn the courtly arts as well as those of war, and he had mastered the dance floors of Braavos and Pentos as thoroughly as he had mastered their fighting pits.
"You dance well for a northerner," Ashara commented, her violet eyes studying him with interest. "necessity my lady".
"They say you've built a small kingdom for yourself across the Narrow Sea. The Children of Winter, is it? An unusual name for an army."
"Winter comes for all men eventually," said Eddard. "I merely hasten its arrival for some."
Ashara's eyebrow arched elegantly at the cold words. "Now I see why they call you the Ice Heart."
When the dance ended, Eddard escorted Ashara back to her place beside her brother, Ser Arthur Dayne, the legendary Sword of the Morning and wielder of the ancestral sword Dawn."Lord Stark," Arthur greeted him with a respectful nod.
"I look forward to seeing your skill in the melee tomorrow," said Arthur. "Perhaps we will cross blades."
"Perhaps," Eddard agreed, knowing it would be a match worth watching. In his previous life as Madara, he had faced countless skilled opponents. In this life, he had yet to find a true equal in combat.
As he returned to his seat, Eddard caught sight of Prince Rhaegar watching him with an unreadable expression. Their eyes met briefly across the hall, and Eddard felt a strange sense of recognition—not that they had met before, but a recognition of something kindred. Both men were planners, both had visions that extended beyond the immediate concerns of feasting and tourneys.
What are you planning, Prince Rhaegar? Eddard wondered. And how might it intersect with my own designs?.