274 AC
The Winter Guard grew to two hundred men that year.
Kaelen trained them himself, with Brandon's help and Harry's steady presence. The training was brutal, relentless, designed to push men to their limits and then beyond. Those who could not keep up were sent back to regular duty. Those who stayed became something new.
They drilled in formation until they could move as one creature. They practiced with sword and spear and bow until their bodies remembered what their minds had learned. They ran in the snow, fought in the rain, slept in the cold until discomfort became meaningless.
And at the center of it all, the white haired boy watched and corrected and planned.
"Why are we doing this?" one of the men asked, a grizzled veteran named Halys who had fought in half a dozen border skirmishes. He was old enough to be Kaelen's grandfather, and he did not like taking orders from a child.
Kaelen met his eyes. "Because when the dead walk, you will need to be ready."
Halys blinked. "The dead?"
"The Others. The white walkers. The things in the old stories." Kaelen's voice was calm, matter of fact. "They are real. They are coming. And when they do, the men who trained in comfortable castles with comfortable weapons will die. We will not."
The men exchanged glances. Some laughed nervously. Others looked at Kaelen with something like fear.
Halys was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"All right, boy. Show me what to do."
Brandon found Kaelen on the wall that night, staring north.
"You told them about the Others," Brandon said. "They are talking about it in the hall. Some think you are mad."
"I know."
"Do you care?"
Kaelen was quiet for a moment. "I care that they are ready. I care that when the time comes, they remember what I said. I do not care if they think I am mad."
Brandon leaned on the wall beside him. "Do you really believe it? The old stories?"
Kaelen turned to look at his brother. In the moonlight, his white hair seemed almost to glow, his green eyes reflecting the stars.
"I believe in preparing for the worst. I believe that the Wall was built for a reason. I believe that every culture north of the Neck has stories about the Long Night, and that those stories share too many details to be coincidence." He paused. "I believe that when winter comes, we will need every advantage we can get."
Brandon nodded slowly. "Then we prepare."
"Yes." Kaelen placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "We prepare."
They stood together in silence, watching the stars. Below them, Winterfell slept. The guards walked their rounds. The fires burned low.
"You know," Brandon said eventually, "you do not have to carry all of this alone."
Kaelen looked at him.
"I mean it. I am your brother. Your twin. Whatever is coming, I will be there. Harry will be there. Father will be there. Even little Ned and Benjen will be there when they are old enough." Brandon's voice was rough. "You do not have to be the only one preparing. You do not have to be the only one carrying the weight."
Kaelen felt something shift inside him. That cold place, the one he had built after his mother died, seemed to warm just a little.
"I know," he said quietly. "I know."
"Good." Brandon grinned, the tension breaking. "Now come inside. It is freezing out here, and you are not the only one who needs to train tomorrow."
Kaelen almost smiled. Almost.
"Race you," he said.
Brandon's eyes widened. "You? Race me? I have been running since before you could walk."
"Then you should win easily." And Kaelen was off, sprinting along the wall toward the stairs.
Brandon laughed and ran after him, and for a few moments, they were just boys again. No steel. No soldiers. No secrets. Just two brothers running in the dark.
Ned was waiting for them in the hall.
He sat by the fire, a book open in his lap, his grey eyes serious even at eleven years old. When Kaelen and Brandon burst through the door, laughing and breathless, he looked up with an expression that was half disapproval, half longing.
"You should be asleep," Brandon said, collapsing onto a bench.
"So should you." Ned closed his book carefully. "I was waiting for Kaelen."
Kaelen sat beside him. "What is it?"
Ned hesitated. Then he held out the book. It was a history of the North, old and worn, the pages yellowed with age.
"I was reading about the Long Night," Ned said quietly. "About the Others. About the things you talk about." He looked up at Kaelen. "Do you really think they will come back?"
Kaelen looked at his youngest brother. Ned was so serious, so earnest, so desperate to understand. He reminded Kaelen of himself, in a way. The desire to know, to prepare, to be ready.
"I do not know," Kaelen said honestly. "But I think it is possible. And if it is possible, we should be ready."
Ned nodded slowly. "Then I want to help."
"You are eleven years old."
"So were you when you started all of this." Ned's jaw set in that stubborn way that all Starks had. "I can learn. I can train. I can do something."
Kaelen looked at Brandon. Brandon shrugged, a small smile on his face.
"All right," Kaelen said. "Tomorrow, you start training with the Guard. Basic drills only. Nothing dangerous." He held up a hand as Ned started to protest. "You will earn the rest. Prove yourself, and I will teach you more."
Ned nodded, his eyes bright. "I will. I promise."
Kaelen ruffled his hair, the way their mother used to do. "I know you will."