Lords of the North
Lord Rickard Stark, Winterfell, towards the New Year
Rickard watched the lords of the North arrive one after another from the window in his chambers. He thanked the Gods that Winterfell was big enough to house them otherwise this gathering would be very uncomfortable.
Today the Black shield with a white Border was in view, signaling the arrival of house Mance of Castle Black. Some of their strongest Bannerman, Houses Thenn, Shieldbreaker, Morna, and Giantsbane, of the Shadow Tower, The Stone Door, Snowgate, and Oakenshield, joined them. These were the last lords that were meant to be here and Rickard sighed.
They may be some of the most difficult lords to convince in supporting his granddaughter when the time came, if it came. The Lords of the North were generally indifferent to the Targaryens, but those who lived closer to the Wall and the Mountains and even Skagos most definitely did not like the dragons, mainly due to the practice of incest. These houses were the ones with the most blood of the First Men and were staunch worshipers of the Old Gods.
Not even the fact Visenya was not born of incest would be enough to sway them, for her father was a product of incest. These houses would never betray the North but they wouldn't accept her as anything other than a child, never mind a Queen. That is, if she even wanted to be a Queen at all.
“Am I doing the right thing here, in regards to my granddaughter?” He asked the small figure standing beside him.
The figure lifts its head to look up at him and glowing green eyes stare back at him, “You are not trying to crown her as of now, only a fool would do so but you acknowledge that she may want to be Queen. It is her birthright after all. You are doing the best you can Magnar of House Stark.”
The figure pauses to consider, “I know that you worry about those who have arrived today. My presence will be enough to sway them. Tha mi a 'mionnachadh seo.”
This I swear, his ally had said. It took a moment for him to translate what was spoken but he smiled none the less.
“Thank you.”
Ser Brandon Stark, the Great Hall of Winterfell
He was tense, there was no other way to describe it. So many things could go wrong with what was to be said today and he wasn't sure that he would ever relax again. When his father stood, most of the hall had quieted down and soon everything was quiet.
“My lords,” Lord Rickard called in a clear voice, walking into the middle of the hall, the cloaked figure he had seen before, following close behind. “I thank you all for coming. I'm sure that some of you notice that there are a few houses missing from this gathering, I will explain why that is in due time.” Lord Rickard's face was like stone and it suggested that he would not tolerate any interruptions from anyone. Even the normally loud Greatjon was as silent as a grave.
His father paused and motioned for two of the guards to come forward, “I have some good news and rewards to give before I explain that however,” Rickard continued and one guard placed a pot with a Weirwood sapling in front of him, the other a large bucket with water. “Ser Jaime Lannister, step forward.”
The man who had saved his life stepped forward as quickly as he could but it wasn't done out of eagerness.
“Kneel,” Ser Jaime obeyed the command and Brandon watched as his father drew a obsidian dagger from his belt. “You kneel before me, as Ser Jaime of House Lannister, son of Lord Tywin Lannister, a man I had once respected but no longer do. In truth, you broke a sacred oath to protect your king but that king was not worth protecting. You were said to be a vain and arrogant boy, but you risked your life and honor to return something precious to me.
“You are a conundrum Ser. If I was not sure of your loyalty before today, your actions involving the destruction of traitors to my house show that I can trust you.” There were murmuring as father handed Ser Jaime the dagger. Brandon could hear the other lords talking about who was missing and just how they themselves did not know about any of this.
Ser Jaime held the dagger in his right hand before he cut the palm on his left. He held his bleeding hand over the sapling. “I, Jaime, descendant of Lann of the First Men, do hereby swear my allegiance to house Stark, and forswear any allegiance to the house of Lannister, the price in which I pay with blood. I do so because it is blood that will be the price of betrayal against house Stark.”
A lot of the lords nodded in approval of such a thing even if they were confused as to why it was happening. Brandon glanced at the Septa that had come with Catelyn and saw that she looked disgusted. Catelyn herself fared no better but in the time she spent here, she had learned that there was a time and place to express ones opinions.
This was not that time.
The figure beside his father handed him some cloth as the murmurings became louder, “I, lord Rickard of House Stark, do hereby accept your oaths and welcome you as one of my Bannerman,” His father wrapped Ser Jaime's hand with the cloth and pulled him to his feet. “You knelt as a knight of the South, now you stand before me as a lord of the North. I name you Lord Jaime of house Lann, Lord of Parren's Den and the White Lion of the North!”
A blue and grey banner was raised by a member of the Mazin clan, at its center was a white lion. There were several claps of confusion at this but there were enough people who cheered. Parren's Den was a good name for Jaime's keep near the mountains. Parren was a common ancestor for the extinct Westerland house of the same name and the Mazin's who were descended from the female line.
His father dipped the blade in the water and called the three foreigners who helped Ser Jaime to come forward and they too, took the pledge.
The one known as Digger was named a knight and his house would be called the same when his son became a lord of the small keep in Jaime's land. He gave Brandon's father a cheeky grin, one filled with a few gold teeth as a banner of ten gold and purple discs on blue was raised next to the white lion of Lann. Brandon knew the gold rings represented the amount of coins he was bought for when he was slave and the purple was to represent Braavos which welcomed him with open arms. The blue was just because he liked the color.
Ser Pusher and Dame Yira of house Therys were sworn in as another knightly Northern house destined for another keep in Jaime's lands. Their sigil gave Brandon pause as it was raised beside House Digger.
It was the sigil for the Lord of Light but the heart was black instead of red and the flames were blue instead of yellow. There was a red star in its center and the field was a light grey.
The followers of the Red God that came here, like Thoros and Yira, hardly preached any sermons, mainly due to the fact that none of them truly believed in R'hllor. Then again, the religion itself had seen better days. Ever since the Targaryens had helped destroy the Walkers, R'hllor's follows couldn't preach about a prophesied savior anymore since there was nothing to save.
Very little worship happened in that religion but they still trained some of the best warriors in the world, two of which were in this very hall.
And the ceremony continued and there were now new noble and knightly houses in lands that once belonged to the vanquished houses or keeps that needed to be repaired. Stannis, who had joined them about two moons previous, was given control of Sea Dragon Point and all its lands for his part in helping Brandon take down the Warricks and later the Whitehills. His banner of a grey stag on black was raised alongside the white onion and black sails of Seaworth.
A good chunk of Land would be given to Ser Davos for his family, especially the Moss Castle and some would be given to Renly if he wanted it. He already had a banner at the age of seven but that didn't mean he wanted land when he was older.
Brandon knew that someone like the Blackfish wasn't entirely sure about marriage but he accepted the land and the oath, much to the apparent disappointment of his niece. The Blackfish on Red and Blue was raised beside the red arrowhead of house Wynter. The Knight had stood next to a solemn Locke and Harlon after he was sworn in.
Ser Bertram Bole, a second son of clan Bole, was given Goldgrass since he was the first one through the breach of Barrowton that still lived. His sigil of a lavender hand on black was raised beside the black snow leopard of Nightfall. Mark Ryswell was sworn in as the new lord of the Rills and his new banner was there for all to see.
The other lords were becoming restless now and it was only his father's silent warning that had stopped them from demanding answers. Thoros was being rewarded now being named a knight and he was given Warrick's Hold as his keep to do with as he pleased. His sigil of a yellow shield engulfed in white flame on red was raised behind Brandon who took a deep breath. It was his turn now.
He stepped forward and removed his cowl and mask to show his face, drawing gasps from everyone who didn't know that he was still alive. He knelt before his father. The smell of blood was strong and the water that was clean was now dark from all the blood that had been washed off of the dagger which his father now gave to him.
“I, Brandon, descendant of Bran the Builder,” He intoned with a clear voice after he cut his palm and held it over the drenched sapling. His son had healed him when he first set eyes on him the first month Brandon was back in the North. Brandon had been patrolling the halls late one night when he felt something slam into his leg. He looked down to see Stark gray eyes looking right up at him with a small grin.
“Dada,” His little boy exclaimed and reached up for him to be carried. Brandon picked him up and looked around to make sure that he was heard before looking for the nursery. All the while he told his son to be quiet and that he wasn't his father. His son frowned in confusion before he did something that Brandon would never forget. He manipulated the fire from a nearby torch to form a ball in his tiny hand and pressed the flame into Brandon's throat. The soreness that he felt whenever he spoke was gone and the rope burn that had been there was gone as well.
The following months had been hell since he had to maintain his cover and make sure his son didn't speak of who he really was. But one thing was for sure, his son had not only inherited his gift of fire, but he was already stronger than Brandon was at his age. He would need to be watched the most even though Visenya and Jon were coming into their powers as well.
“Do swear my undying loyalty to house Stark.” Brandon continued. “I forswear any claim to Winterfell and its lands and titles. My children, true borne or otherwise, will never hold this castle or the North unless they absolutely must. I and they will not bear the Stark name or fly the Stark colors at anytime. Blood is the price I pay, for it will be what is taken should I or my family betray house Stark.”
Lord Rickard's face was blank but his eyes held a certain sadness. Both of them knew that this needed to be done or Ned and his family would never know relative peace. His father began to wrap his hand.
“I, lord Rickard of House Stark, do hereby accept your oaths and welcome you as one of my Bannerman,” Brandon was pulled to his feet. “You knelt as my first born child, one who made many mistakes and gave me quite a few grey hairs in recent memory,” His father quipped. “Now you stand as a lord of the North in your own right. I name you Lord Brandon Snowfall of the Wolf's Cradle, formerly known as Highpoint!”
There was a dull roar but not one of celebration but rather, indignation, as Brandon's new banner was raised. The Northern Lords had finally had enough it seems. Now they were demanding answers and maybe even a bit of blood.
“Silence!” A voice shrieked above the noise and echoed across the hall. Brandon covered his ears in pain but before he knew it, the sound had stopped. The noise came from the small figure beside his father. A green hand removed the hood it was wearing and dark green skin and bright green eyes were revealed to all. The figure's hair was in tight braids that had twigs and leaves woven in in a specific pattern.
“My name is Leaf,” The figure growled out. “I am one of the Children of the Forest and ally to Lord Rickard. I will not tolerate any disrespect shown to him and his family.” Its eyes dared anyone to challenge what was said but none came.
Brandon blinked. One of the Children was here? In the hall of his forefathers? He glanced around the room and everyone was silent and shocked at what they were seeing. Except his father who had a small but smug smile on his face.
“Ser Rodrik, bring in the first prisoner.” His father intoned and the Northern knight stumbled his way out of the door to do what his lord bid.
Sigils for the new houses:
House Lann of Parren's Den
House Digger
House Therys
House Stannis of Sea Dragon Point
House Seaworth of the Moss Castle
House Blackfish of Tumbledon Tower
House Bole of Goldgrass
House Thoros of Warrick's Hold (Will be renamed at some point)
House Snowfall of the Wolf's Cradle
Bonus:
Renly
House Longclaw (Benjen's house)
House Frost (Harlon's house)
