The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

Winterfell buzzed with activity as preparations for war overtook the stronghold. The clang of blacksmith hammers echoed across the courtyard and village as weapons and armour were repaired and reforged. Soldiers gathered in the yard, inspecting their gear and testing their slings.

Brandon went to the solar to grab his sword only to be met by an angry wife. Elinor stood by the window, her hands resting protectively over her flat stomach. Her piercing blue gaze stopped him in his tracks.

"Off to war again." She moved her arms to her hips. "You just came back Brandon and now you're off! Got anything to say for yourself."

Brandon sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "I don't have a choice, Elinor, you know that."

She sighed "I know but-"

Brandon stepped closer, grabbing her hands and kissing her. "Trust me, honey, sometimes we have to think about more than just us."

She shook her head, her voice trembling. "Bigger than us? I wanted our children to grow up with their father, not stories of wars he fought in."

He pulled her in close. "I know, Elinor. I know I've been away a lot recently. But this is important. When this is over, I'll make sure I'm here, with you, with our family."

Tears welled in her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. "How can you promise that? What if you don't come back? What if this war takes you from me?"

Brandon's voice softened. "I will come back. I promise you. And when I do, I know you will be pregnant with my child, I know I certainly tried."

Elinor slapped his shoulder. "Brandon, so vulgar." She said before she giggled. "Fine, Brandon. Go. But you have to come back to me, do you hear me? No matter what, you have to return safely."

He pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly against him. "I will. I swear it, Elinor. By the Old Gods, I will."

/

For once, Brandon was not plagued by the rippling food that often accompanied campaigns. Thanks to the success of the winter crops, the granaries were well-stocked, and the pastures held strong, healthy animals. Brandon was the only king in the North who could afford to muster such a sizable force without risking his people's survival through the cold.

The courtyard of Winterfell was alive with activity. Soldiers in the King's Guard, clad in their bronze amour, assembled in disciplined rows. Brandon had chosen 300 of his 500 King's Guard to accompany him men who had trained relentlessly, who bore the sharpest bronze and the strongest shields. Their loyalty and skill were the best.

Beside them stood 700 of the 1,000 household guards, less finely equipped but no less ready for battle. These were the warriors who were seasoned fighters who had proven themselves in skirmishes and previous wars from the levies and were recruited into the guards. They carried spears and shields, their armour a mix of bronze and sturdy leather.

Finally, there were the levies of around 500 farmers and tradesmen called to arms. They wore simpler mismatched armour, depending on their wealth, and carried axes, spears, and shields. Though less experienced, they stood with pride, marching alongside their loved King.

The wolves of Winterfell howled in the distance as Brandon and the wargs moved to the front and headed out the gate.

By midday, the column was moving. The King's Guard marched at the front, their armour gleaming under the pale winter sun. Household guards flanked the levies, who were stationed in the middle. Wagons loaded with food, tools, and spare weapons rolled behind them.

/

The Slate King's lands stretched out before Brandon's army like patchwork repair as some villages remained fine whilst others looked scorched. The rolling hills were dotted with these villages, their charred remains telling what side of the fight they fell on. What grazing lands remained was fallow, with fences broken and livestock scarce. The air carried the faint scent of ash and damp earth.

Despite the ruin, Brandon's force moved cautiously. He had ordered silence within the ranks once they entered Slate lands, the sound of boots muffled by the frosted ground would help cover their approach. Edwyn moved near Brandon, kept his head low, as he refused to look at the villages that past them by

At the vanguard, Halvar eagle, circling high above them. Halvar's flicked in and out of warg concentration, as his eagle spotted or fought with enemy wargs and scouts.

For many days and weeks, the strategy worked. Halvar directed the column away from small bands of patrols and settlements. Yet, as they pushed deeper into Slate lands, Halvar's expression one day saddened.

"Looks like they finally spotted us," Halvar muttered.

"Shame wanted to move further inland to find a better fighting location, we are still in a hilly area here," Brandon asked.

Halvar nodded along. "We won't be able to make it out these hills before Blackpool is too far from here."

Brandon turned to Theon. "We march until we meet the enemy, then find the biggest hill and set up defences."

/

Connell's banners were the first to appear on the horizon, Royce's banners followed soon after. The Red King had moved swiftly, with his lands not too far and Connell not moving until he was close enough.

Connells brought 200 King's Guard marched alongside 200 household guards, their ranks bristling with well-maintained weapons and shields painted over the original Slate King colours, now under a new banner and colour scheme. Royce mirrored this with his own 200 King's Guard and household guard, their red colours gleaming even under the dreary light. At their side rode Jarl Overton, and his 300 household guards.

Brandon studied the approaching armies from a high hill, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. For once he had the larger force though a third of his force was made up of levies, and he did not have Jarl Amber who was protecting against the Barrow King's raids. Brandon was still feeling confident about the battle as the enemy set up their camp on a high hill and rested for the day.