I - THE PRICE OF PEACE (POV THEON & AEGON)
The wind in the marshes of the Neck whistled a tune colder than the last time. The clearing at the Raven's Stone was empty, save for two men and the weight of unwritten history between them. Theon Stark waited, standing, the Crown of Ice on his head pulsing with a calm light. He did not seem surprised when Balerion's colossal shadow covered the clearing, the dragon much smaller than on his previous visit. The dragon landed with a thud that seemed more tired than furious.
Aegon Targaryen dismounted. He had aged a decade in a few weeks. His features were marked by defeat, his once-conquering purple eyes now looked like extinguished ashes. Blackfyre was in his scabbard, but he made no move towards it. He looked at Theon, and there was no hatred in his gaze, only a deep, bitter resignation.
"Stark," said Aegon, his voice rough like grinding stones.
"Targaryen," Theon retorted with a casual nod, as if greeting a distant neighbor. "I see the North's climate didn't agree much with your dragons. They seem… reluctant. Almost embarrassed."
Aegon ignored the bait. The arrogance had been burned out of him.
"You've won."The statement was simple, flat. "What remains now? Do you demand my surrender? The Iron Throne?" A slight spasm of pain crossed his face. "All of it?"
Theon laughed, a clear sound that echoed strangely in the gloomy landscape.
"By the Old Gods,no! The idea of managing the Tyrells' squabbles, the Lannisters' greed, and the smog of King's Landing gives me more chills than your coldest winter. No, thank you. I prefer my frosts. They are more honest."
"Then what?" Aegon's question was a sigh of exhaustion. "You called me here to mock me?"
"I called to make a deal. A treaty." Theon began to stroll slowly, his hands behind his back. "You keep the Six Kingdoms. Reign over them. Collect your taxes, sit on your pointy chair, fight your petty little wars. The North, however, will have no part in it."
Aegon was silent, watching him.
"The North is, and always will be, an independent kingdom," declared Theon, stopping and staring at Aegon. "And for the next few years, our borders will be formally closed."
"Closed?" Aegon seemed genuinely perplexed. "To what? To whom?"
"To your influence. To your politics. To your 'Game of Thrones'," Theon explained, his tone didactic, almost amused. "You see, you brought 'fire and blood,' which is a loud, messy way to build something. The North needs silence to rebuild itself. It needs peace to grow strong, away from the smell of sulfur and the sound of your war drums." He leaned forward, a sharp smile on his lips. "You can have the south. We'll keep the winter. It's a fair deal, don't you think? Each to his own specialty."
"And if I refuse?" asked Aegon, out of pure reflex, knowing the answer.
Theon raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.
"Refuse?Oh, I wouldn't recommend it. The last time you 'refused,' your army became a glacial sculpture exhibit. Next time, perhaps I'll invite your entire kingdom to a… prolonged winter experience." His smile vanished, and his icy eyes gleamed with absolute coldness. "But you are not a fool, Aegon. You learned the lesson. Peace, however humiliating, is always cheaper than annihilation. And I am offering peace."
Aegon looked at his empty hands. He had started with three dragons and a dream of empire. Now, he had an Iron Throne stained by defeat and an agreement with a man who treated the power of the gods like a toy.
"Very well,"he conceded, the word coming out like a grunt of defeat. "The North is yours. But know this, Stark. The world will remember what you did. And the winter you love so much does not respect borders. It will come for everyone, sooner or later."
"I'm counting on it!" Theon replied, his good humor returning instantly. "When the real winter comes for you, down in your comfortable south, remember that we Starks will still be here. And who knows, if you're very polite, we might teach you a trick or two for survival." He took a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kingdom to run. Practical things, you know? Feeding people, warming houses… boring matters for a conqueror, I imagine."
Without waiting for a reply, Theon turned and began walking north. Aegon stood still, watching the figure retreat, the Crown of Ice glinting until it disappeared among the reeds. He felt no anger. He felt an empty relief. He had lost a war, but he had survived. And deep in his soul, he knew that man, that King of Ice, was a full stop on a page of history that he, Aegon, would never be able to turn.
II - AUDIENCE Under the Heart Tree (POV THEON & THOREN)
Back in Winterfell, Theon kept his peculiar habits. His 'throne room' remained the godswood, under the branches of the weirwood. The late afternoon light painted the red leaves in even deeper shades when Thoren Stark found his son surrounded by scrolls, the Crown of Ice casting dancing shadows on the grass.
"Theon," said Thoren, his voice laden with paternal frustration. "The lords are murmuring. They expect a king on a throne, not a… philosophical gardener. The Great Hall is emptier than the barns after a long winter. They don't understand."
Theon looked up from a petition from the mountain clansmen, a relaxed smile on his face.
"A throne,Father, is great for impressing visitors and for backaches. This tree, on the other hand, offers better advice. And shade. And stories." He made a dramatic pause. "And today, it will offer an illustrious visitor. It would be a royal faux pas not to be here to receive her."
Thoren opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when a graceful movement behind the weirwood caught his attention. A slender, small figure emerged from the deepest shadows. It was a Child of the Forest. Her golden eyes shone like two miniature suns in a face of ancient bark.
Thoren, the veteran wolf of a hundred battles, felt a primal instinct of danger. His hand grasped the air where his sword used to be. Theon, in stark contrast, rose with relaxed grace. He did not bow. He approached, took the creature's delicate, articulated hand, and, with the most perfect courtesy of a Dornish courtier, raised it to his lips, depositing a light kiss on her knuckles.
"Ghyrah-vhar!" Theon greeted, his voice taking on a musical cadence. "May the stars guide your steps. Your presence honors my humble grove. I hope the forest spirits have been kind on your journey."
The Child of the Forest did not seem offended; on the contrary, her large golden eyes blinked with a spark of something akin to amusement. Her whisper was the sound of dry leaves being dragged by the wind.
"Theon Stark.King who listens to the roots. The song of the world… its tone has changed. The roar of fire has been silenced. Now, there is a new sound. A cold that is not of death, but of… deep quiet. What has the Singer-King done?"
Theon released her hand with a flourish.
"I corrected a dissonance,my dear friend!" he exclaimed, as if explaining a magic trick. "The concert was unbearable. Those dragons were like a out-of-tune lute being smashed by a drunk giant. I simply… tuned the instruments. Brought the melody back to something more pleasant to the ear."
"An altered song is a diverted fate," whispered the creature, her gaze serious. "The loom of time does not unravel, Singer-King. It weaves a new pattern. A pattern not even the sacred leaves can foresee."
"Wonderful!" Theon clapped his hands together, excited. "Predictability is the true enemy of eternity! Let new patterns come! Let new riddles come! This time, however, the loom is in my hands. And if fate wants a new coat, it will have to negotiate directly with the tailor. Prices have gone up, you know."
The Child of the Forest watched him for a long moment, and then an expression that was clearly a strange, ancient smile touched her features. She made a deep and graceful bow before merging again with the weirwood's shadows, disappearing like a dream.
Thoren stood still, staring at his son as if seeing him for the first time. "Theon, by the old gods and the new… what… how…?"
"Oh, don't make that face, Father," Theon said, returning to his scrolls with an air of normality. "She is terribly well-mannered. And the stories she tells… you wouldn't believe. Now, about this issue of the fishing taxes on Long Lake…"
III - THE SMALL COUNCIL AND THE PILLARS OF THE KINGDOM (POV GENERAL)
The next day, Theon summoned his Small Council. The meeting was not in the stuffy hall, but in the Inner Yard, under the weak northern sun. Seated on rustic wooden benches were the chosen men: Lord Wyman Manderly, for Trade and the Navy; Old Aedan Umber, for War (now a more defensive position); a young, open-minded maester for Records; and Thoren Stark as Hand.
"My lords," began Theon, strolling before them with a casual air that contrasted with the seriousness of the moment. The Crown of Ice on his head cast small rainbows on the stone at his feet. "Thanks to our recent diplomatic encounter, we have secured peace. Quite a feat, considering the other option was turning the south into a giant frozen wine cup. But peace is not a prize to be displayed. It is a tool. And I have a new tool to show."
He snapped his fingers. Guards brought a heavy oak chest. Upon opening it, they revealed dozens of smooth, dark stones, each engraved with complex symbols that seemed to hold an inner light – runes.
Theon picked up one that radiated a gentle warmth.
"This,"he announced, passing it to Lord Manderly, whose eyes widened as he felt the heat, "is the Rune of the Earth's Sun. Bury it in a field, and it will ward off frost, allowing the land to yield grain even at the height of winter."
He picked up another, which emitted an almost imperceptible bluish vibration.
"This is the Rune of the Wind Wall.Built into a village's walls, it will deflect the fiercest blizzards." He explained others: runes to preserve food, to strengthen wood, to guide ships in the fog.
"These runes will be distributed throughout the North," declared Theon, his voice losing its lightness and gaining the steel tone of a king. "Each lord will receive a set. With them, famine will become a legend. Winter will cease to be our executioner."
Astonishment was visible on every face. It was a change that defied millennia of history.
"And there is one last type," Theon continued, picking up a black, cold rune. "The Rune of the Ice Eye. These will be placed on our borders. East, west, and south." His smile became sharp. "They will do nothing to the land. They will be my eyes. I will feel every step that approaches the North. Nothing will enter without my knowledge."
"And what happens if someone tries to pass them?" growled Lord Umber, approval stamped on his wrinkled face.
"Ah," Theon's smile was one of pure mischievous anticipation. "That's where the fun begins. At the passage points – the Neck, White Harbor – we will establish Checkpoints. I will appoint a General of the Frontier to command them. Any person, be they a common merchant or a highborn prince, who wishes to enter the North, must stop. They will await permission. Our borders are closed. For the next few years, we will close ourselves off from the world to grow strong, without the interference of southern dramas."
The plan was monumental. But looking at the king and his miraculous runes, no lord doubted. They were witnessing not just a reign, but the rebirth of a nation.
IV - THE ARTISAN OF THE FUTURE (POV THEON)
That night, Theon walked alone through the fields that now kept the frost at bay. He personally buried the first Rune of the Earth's Sun, whispering words of power. He felt the energy flow from him to the stone and into the soil – a magic of creation, not destruction. It was the magic of life, of the land, of the future.
As the rune began its silent work, he looked at Winterfell. He did not see a castle of war. He saw the heart of a kingdom that would never again fear winter. A smile of genuine accomplishment lit up his face. Aegon Targaryen could have his Iron Throne. Theon Stark was building something infinitely more lasting: a legacy written not in fire and blood, but in the very stones and soil of the North, with the eternal ink of runes. The true song of Winter, a song of life and prosperity, had only just begun.
That's all folks, in the next chapter, great to see the other changes in the north and we will see one of the main characteristics of the protagonist for the story and so until the next chapter full of unique marine magic factories and wait, is this a super soldier?