Chapter 7 – Winter Is Coming
Artos stood in the heart of a gathered host—twenty-five thousand Northern warriors, steel in their hands and fire in their hearts. They had come to march south, to avenge their murdered lord and his heir.
Artos raised his voice so all could hear.
> "Men of the North!
The King has taken your Lord—my father—and his heir—my brother Brandon—and murdered them in cold blood. He thinks we are weak.
Are we weak?"
A thunderous cry rose up from the ranks.
> "NO!"
"NO!"
"NO!"
Artos's voice grew louder.
> "The lords say I'm too young to command. A green boy, they call me.
But they forget—I am a Stark!
For eight thousand years, Starks have fought, bled, and ruled the North. We have survived every storm—we became men on the battlefield.
I'll do it again. And I'll do it with you.
Are you with me? With the Starks? With the North?!"
> "With you!"
"With the Starks!"
"With the North!"
Their roars shook the marshlands.
> "I will fight at your side, on the frontlines. Together, we will make the South remember.
They call us savages. Barbarians. Less than them.
Let us show them why they fear us. Why they whisper the name of the North like a curse.
Let us show them that we are true warriors, true men, First Men.
We'll make them regret ever laying a hand on our kin.
Let them remember—
The North Remembers!"
> "The North Remembers!"
"The North Remembers!"
Artos raised his sword high.
> "We are the sons of the First Men. We held the North when the South was dust. We've repelled the Andals, the Ironborn, and worse.
We will fight hard. We will fight brutal.
So brutal that they'll see us in their nightmares.
And we will make them fear the words:
'Winter is Coming!'"
> "WINTER IS COMING!"
"WINTER IS COMING!"
The chant rang out, over and over, until it became thunder in the cold air.
---
As the army settled, the war council rode beside Artos.
Lord Jeor Mormont gave a satisfied grunt. "A fine speech, my lord. You've given them a cause, a resolve to carry. That's what a commander does."
Artos nodded. "My father once told me war isn't about numbers—it's about resolve. A leader's task is to guide that resolve."
Lord Rogar Umber gave a half-smirk. "Sounding wise, lad. That's new. You've changed. Used to be more... blunt ,more brute."
Artos gave a soft laugh but turned solemn. "The last conversation I had with Father was an argument. We argued. I was angry—I left for Last Hearth to cool my head."
"I remember," Rogar said. "You were bloodthirsty. Wanted to sneak off to Bear Island, kill some Ironborn. A wild pup."
Jeor chuckled remembering the pair of you—Greatjon and you—showing up at shores, many times. Even he shared some battles with them.
Artos smiled faintly, then looked distant. "When I rode away from Winterfell that day... I heard his last words, from the gates. He was angry, but he called me 'clever lad.' Then he added, 'You choose rage over reason.' He was right."
Jeor and Rogar fell silent. They knew the boy—his temper, his fury, the wolf blood in him. But this—this reflection was something new.
"If I'd listened to him," Artos continued, "If I'd gone to Brandon's wedding... maybe I could've stopped this. Maybe I could've stopped Lyanna from being taken. Maybe..."
"No," Rogar cut in, firm. "Banish that thought. If you'd been there, you'd be dead. Maybe kill one or two of the Kingsguard before they cut you down. But the outcome would be the same."
Jeor nodded. "You're alive, Artos. That's what matters. You're the one left to avenge them. And to bring Lyanna home. No one else could have united the North like you did Nobody could have bring Skagosi Men—not even Brandon. Not even Eddard."
"Maybe," Artos said quietly. "But now that I live, I must do it right. I'll follow Father's words— I will have to follow reason more.I will have to command cleverly.If battlefield isn't about numbers. It is sure about psyche. I have done my best to ensure our Men Psych and in Battlefield we will fight to dominate Psych of the enemies."
He turned his head, glancing behind at the silent figure riding with them. "The Skagosi, the Greybeards, the mountain clans—we'll lead from the front. We'll strike fear into their bones. Isn't that right, Stig?"
Stig, heir of Skagos, gave a sharp grin. "We know how to bring fear and infamy. But don't throw away your rage, Stark. Rage wins wars that's how you got our support. It keeps you alive."
Rogar added, "He's right. I've seen it in you. The angrier you get, the faster you move. The harder you hit."
Jeor stroked his beard. "I've seen it too—on Bear Island, against the Ironborn. You're nearly unstoppable when rage takes hold."
"Rage is part of me," Artos admitted. "It's the wolf blood my father spoke of. I won't abandon it. I can't abandon it But after the battle, I'll try to think like a commander—not just a killer."
Stig quipped from the back, "Maybe that's why the old man sent my sister—to cool your blood."
That drew laughs from all around.
"Lucky lad," Rogar joked. "A woman to keep you company and men to fight beside you. The Skagosi have been real generous with you. May be I should visit Skagos . We are near to them."
"Seems like you've finally found your reason," Jeor teased.
Artos laughed. "Well, I'll never be as reasonable as Brandon."
That made them all laugh—even Stig, who had never met Brandon, chuckled at the joke understanding the tone.
---
Elsewhere...
Stormlands
Robert Baratheon rode south from Storm's End after crushing the loyalist forces at Gulltown. He'd raised the banners and was now marching on Summerhall, hunting down Targaryen sympathizers. To hold the Stormlands in his absence, he left Stannis, his stern younger brother, with five hundred men to guard the castles and keep order.
---
Vale of Arryn
Eddard Stark, delayed by sea storms, found himself stranded in the Three Sisters—a cluster of dubious, treacherous lords who served House Sunderland. They were known to shift loyalties.
"I must get to the Vale," he told the few men with him. "Every hour we lose gives the enemy strength. But if Artos has already heard the news... he'll have marched. He always moves faster than the rest of us.Its a risky but that I will take, I trust him to command and March Northman."
Eddard had arranged secret passage to the mainland, but it would delay him—and the gathering of Northern forces in the Vale.
---
The Riverlands
Jon Arryn, Warden of the East, now marched into the Riverlands, seeking to bring House Tully and their bannermen to the cause. He knew the numbers:
His own strength: 10,000 knights
Robert Baratheon's growing army: 25,000 to 30,000
The North: maybe 15,000 to 20,000, maybe more—but Winter limited their reach
Targaryen side
The Reach: 60,000,at least maybe more
Crownlands: at least 30,000
Lannister host: up to 15,000 armored knights
Even with all their forces combined, they would be outnumbered. Without the Riverlands, they would be doomed. Even with Riverlands we would be at disadvantage.But we will fight.
---
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