"Even the deepest snows begin with a single flake. So too does change." — Old Northern Proverb
(Alaric Stark POV)
The great hall of Winterfell had never smelled richer. Roast boar and honeyed hare mingled with the sharp bite of ale, filling the air with warmth that cut through the castle's ancient chill. If I tried hard enough, I could catch the scent of pinewood smoke and sweat from a hundred cloaks shaken free of early frost. The fires blazed high in their hearths, the harpers plucked their strings with practiced fingers, and every table groaned under the weight of the harvest's bounty.
If the feast is like this, I wonder how my name day celebration would have gone. I regret missing that. It should have been grand if my presents were any indication—I heard nearly every lord had sent gifts, even if they couldn't come themselves. But for this feast, every lord had come in person. Even representatives from the Neck had made the journey, their boggy accents thick as morning mist.
What surprised me more were the mountain clansmen seated at the lower tables. I hadn't known they attended such feasts, yet there they sat—Wulls and Norreys, Flints and Liddles—their weathered faces serious as they broke bread under my father's roof.
At the head table sat my father, Lord Rickon Stark, with Uncle Bennard at his right hand. Maester Walys occupied his customary place nearby, his chain glinting in the firelight. By custom, my mother should have sat beside my father, but instead she'd chosen a seat at my table among the ladies of other houses and their children.
She's trying to help me make friends, I realized, watching her encourage quiet conversations between the younger guests. If that was her intent, I'd have to disappoint her. There was no way I could focus on childish pleasantries when so many people were present for me to observe and learn from.
I was certain now—I had been reincarnated into the timeline of 'House of the dragon' show. The only problem was that old Noah had never watched it. Something about waiting to binge episodes all at once, and then cancer had come calling before he could catch up. He'd even avoided social media to prevent spoilers.
But so what?
If Noah knew nothing about the show's plot, the moment I was born, that plot had gone tumbling into the privy. Perhaps it was better this way—not knowing the original story made it easier to live without second-guessing every decision, wondering if I was derailing some predetermined fate. This was my life now, not some fiction.
At the centre table, I could see several lords making merry—all except my father. His jaw was set in that particular way that meant trouble. Something had happened before I'd entered the hall, and if I read the tension correctly, it involved Lord Karstark. The man's face bore the expression of someone who'd bitten into a sour apple.
It should be about the New Gift, I reasoned. That land was causing more grief than the relief it was supposed to provide. First the matter of taxes, now this brewing conflict. What next—civil war?
Seven hells, why must everything be so complicated? Here I was, trying to help the North strengthen itself, but its own people couldn't find accord among themselves. Even after studying everything I could about the North's situation, I still hadn't found the complete answer to its economic woes. Trade was the obvious solution, but trade in what? We had lumber in abundance, but without our own fleet to transport it, the merchants of Essos and the southern kingdoms set the prices—and those prices were insultingly low.
I needed something we possessed in abundance that didn't cost extra to transport. But what?
Think about it later, I told myself. Focus on the feast, or your food will grow cold—and cold food is a misery in this weather.
Something was happening at the centre table—Lord Karstark's face had grown even tighter after something Lord Umber said. I couldn't make out the words over the general revelry.
"Do you want to sit with your father, Al?" My mother's voice pulled me from my observations.
"No, it's all right, Mother."
"Are you certain? From the look on your face, you're trying to burn a hole through that table with your stare. You can join your father if you wish."
"Are you sure, Mother? I can stay here and enjoy your company," I said, attempting innocence.
"Company you haven't bothered focusing on for quite some time," she replied with that knowing smile that meant I couldn't hide anything from her. "Go on then. But mind your manners, and remember—you're a Stark. Act like one."
"Then I'll see you later. Forgive me for being distracted." I stood and made my way toward the head table.
The celebration was in full swing—Lord Umber was drinking as if winter might arrive tomorrow, and the other lords were well into their cups. Only my father and Lord Karstark seemed to maintain their sobriety.
"May I join you, Father? Mother said I could sit here," I asked formally.
"Hah! The young lord graces us with his presence!" Lord Umber boomed, his massive frame swaying slightly. "Come, sit with us, lad. We all missed you at your name day celebration—let's celebrate together now."
To my four-year-old eyes, Lord Umber looked like a literal giant. I glanced at my father for permission; he simply nodded, and I took my seat.
A few lords acknowledged me with brief nods before returning to their drinks. I found myself enjoying the atmosphere—everyone laughing, drinking, carrying on without a care. It reminded me of those college parties Noah used to attend.
"I heard it was your idea to lease the New Gift from the Night's Watch, young lord."
And I spoke too soon. Lord Karstark's voice cut through my pleasant observations. Why was he concerning himself with land that didn't even belong to him? Lord Umber, who had actual cause to be upset about border changes, seemed perfectly content with his ale.
"I don't know where you heard that, Lord Karstark, but I merely pointed something out to my father. It was Father who made all the decisions."
Karstark's jaw worked as if he were chewing on words he wanted to spit. "Aye, but a boy who speaks above his station—"
"Enough." My father's voice carried the authority of ice and iron. "My son answered your question, Harrion. Let it rest."
Karstark looked ready to press the matter, but Lord Umber—whether by drunken accident or clever design—interrupted with a loud toast that derailed the conversation.
"To the North!" he roared, raising his cup high. "And to the young lord who'll one day lead us all!"
The hall erupted in cheers and the clash of cups, and whatever poison Karstark had been preparing to spit was lost in the din.
The feast continued with its cacophony of voices and clatter of dishes. Servants emerged from the kitchens with platters I couldn't see the source of, though the food itself was... questionable. Bread harder than stone, roast boar more charred than cooked and lacking proper seasoning, and ale of dubious quality.
I wonder what that tastes like, I mused, eyeing the amber liquid that seemed to fuel the lords' increasingly animated discussions.
The evening wore on until my mother appeared beside me. "Time for bed, Al. Say your farewells."
I didn't argue—the feast had grown tedious. I'd foolishly hoped to overhear something important, but it was just drunk old men talking about matters I had no business knowing. After quiet goodbyes, I departed with Mother.
The next morning revealed the cost of the previous night's revelry. Men held their heads as if their skulls might split, though somehow Lord Umber appeared remarkably chipper compared to the others. How he managed it remained a mystery.
We were breaking our fast quietly when Lord Manderly cleared his throat. "Lord Stark, regarding the new shipment from the Reach—some of the food arrived spoiled. When I sent word demanding explanation, they replied that they'd fulfilled their part of the agreement and could do nothing more."
The words fell like stones into still water. Every man's mood darkened instantly, hangovers forgotten in the face of this insult. My mother quickly ushered me and the other children from the hall, but not before loud voices began echoing from within. From what I could hear, the lords were expressing their opinions of the Reach houses in decidedly unchild-friendly terms.
"Perfumed pricks," I heard Lord Umber bellow. "Think they can cheat the North and laugh about it!"
Spoiled food. The distance between the Reach and the North was vast, even by sea routes. Food spoilage was common on such journeys, especially when unscrupulous merchants chose the cheapest preservation methods available. But that didn't make it acceptable—not when Northern gold had paid for it, and Northern bellies would go empty because of it.
If only there were something I could do about it.
I was contemplating this problem when I stepped outside and felt something cold touch my nose. A snowflake. I sneezed, then looked around properly for the first time that morning.
The entire landscape stretched before me like a white blanket—pristine, endless, cold.
Wait.
I turned slowly, taking in the vast expanse of snow-covered ground. The wheels in my mind began turning faster.
Yes. Yes, this could work. This is it!
How had I been so blind? The answer had been literally surrounding me this entire time. I'd found my gold mine—the solution to our short-term money troubles, at least.
I need to find Maester Walys. Now.
"Excuse me," I called to the first person I encountered—a serving girl who jumped at being addressed. "Have you seen the maester?"
She pointed toward his chambers, still looking startled. I thanked her and ran.
I burst through his door without ceremony. "Maester, I need your help with something urgent!"
He nearly dropped the tome he was reading. "Alaric! You cannot simply enter like that—you frightened me half to death."
"Forgive me, Maester, but this is important. I think I've figured something out, and I need your assistance."
He looked ready to lecture me on proper manners, but my excitement must have been infectious. His expression softened. "Very well, Alaric. Tell me what you've discovered, and we'll see if it has merit."
Oh, it has merit all right. It was summer now, and the last winter had ended only two years past. We had plenty of time for my vision to take shape.
"Maester," I said, my voice carrying a certainty that surprised even me, "what if I told you that the North could become the wealthiest kingdom in Westeros? What if our endless winters—the very thing that makes us poor—could make us rich beyond measure?"
Maester Walys set down his quill, his weathered face creasing with intrigue. "I would say you have my attention, young lord. But such claims require proof."
I moved to his window, gesturing toward the white expanse beyond. "Look out there, Maester. What do you see?"
"Snow. Ice. The cold that drives merchants away and makes long journeys longer."
"I see treasure," I said quietly. "I see the solution to every problem that plagues us."
The old man joined me at the window, his chain clinking softly. "Explain."
I turned to face him, and when I spoke, it was with the weight of absolute conviction. "I will explain everything, Maester. Help me work out the details, and I promise you this—by winter's end, lords from King's Landing to Oldtown will be begging to trade with the North. The Reach lords who send us spoiled grain will be buying our goods at our prices, they'll thank us for the privilege"
Maester Walys studied my face for a long moment. "That's quite a promise, Alaric."
"It's not a promise," I replied, my words carrying the chill of winter itself. "It's a vow. The North remembers its slights, Maester. But more than that—the North will make them pay."
I could see it already. Those smug Reach lords sitting in their sunny keeps, chuckling over spoiled food and coin stolen from Northern hands. Let them laugh. Let them toast to their cleverness.
They wouldn't laugh for long.
Because I will remember. And so will the North.
One day soon, those same Reach lords will stare in disbelief as the 'barbarian' North grows rich off the very cold they once mocked.
Let them enjoy their harvest while they can. Let them count their golden dragons and dream of endless summer.
Because winter is coming.And I'll be the one who brings it to their door.
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I am thinking of doing a major timeskip like next chapter will be during the time of great council. These chapter put groundwork for the motivations of my main character. Also please leave reviews and comments so i should atleast know that people are actually enjoying my story.
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