[AAR] The Destruction of the Starks *Song of Ice and Fire spoilers*

**gangstamaori** · April 19, 2013, 08:19 AM

A thousand years before Robb Stark was hailed as King of the North by his countrymen, there existed another line of kings. At this time, the Targaryens were busy crawling out of the ashes of Old Valyria and far from Westeros, yet there was no shortage of fire and blood in this land of shifting seasons. Indeed, the First Men and their Old Gods had been engaged in bitter warfare for generations against the Andals, the new folk from the east who brought with them a new religion - a new way of life. House Mudd was besieged on all fronts by the petty Andal Kings, its Warrior King Tristifer IV successful in war, yet to fight his hundredth battle. Lannister and Gardener were calling their bannermen, ready to tear each other apart; while the great Falcon and Storm King's looked on.

These are tales for another time however, as our story is of one people tearing themselves asunder. One thousand years before Aegon's landing, the Starks had been reigning the North from Winterfell for generations. The head of House Stark and King of the North during this era was Beron, the Halfling. The son of the King Beyond the Wall, Breal the Bard, and a Stark woman, Beron and his supporters claimed that he was the heir of the Stark legacy.

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Behind them stood the greatest houses of the North. The Greystarks, Umbers, Glovers, Flints, Tallharts, Karstarks, Burleys, and Ryswells were among the strongest. Yet all these houses' influence paled in comparison to one family.

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House Bolton of the Dreadfort have always been the rivals of the Starks. Equal in greatness to the Starks and more savage in war, they were the one House that has always been a threat to Stark hegemony in the north. Indeed, it was their Lord who called into question the legitimacy of Beron's kingship. Lord Domeric of the Dreadfort was mistrustful that the son of the King Beyond the Wall sat on the Northern throne. He did not trust the man to guard the realm from his father, and was worried that the Dreadfort was the greatest target for the northern hordes due to its proximity to Breal's realm.

Beron himself had no love for the Boltons, viewing them as disloyal and barbaric. Relations between the two rulers became further strained when Beron refused to consider a marriage contract between his heir Brandon, and Lyra Bolton, the daughter of Domeric. While Beron rejected the union due to Prince Brandon's insistence that the match could never work, Domeric refused to listen and felt that his House was slighted.

Shortly after, Beron set out north past the Wall with his chief lieutenant Ondrew Umber to confront his father. He gave governance of the realm to Prince Brandon, and made his master-at-arms, Rickard Cassel, the castellan of Winterfell. Beron ordered his greatest lords to each send soldiers to support the expedition. Umber, Karstark, Glover, Tallhart, and Dustin each sent a great contingent of troops. Torrhen Greystark sent word that he was mustering men, but the rest of the major lords appeared more hesitant. The Flints raised levies, but each brother sent word to Beron that they were expecting attacks from the Ironborn and Arryn's, and as a result could not partake in the expedition. Lords Burley and Ryswell later sent word via crow that men were being sent up through the Dreadfort to aid Beron; yet Domeric was silent.

In a great battle, the Stark host under Beron engaged Breal the Bard in an epic battle. Aided by the nights watch, Beron was able to scout out his father's host as it gathered a two days ride out from the wall, and crushed it in a battle that lasted several hours. The Wilding army was routed when Beron slayed his father in personal combat, and the threat was no more.

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Yet this was only the beginning. Hugo Karstark, the heir of the Lord of Karhold, was invited to the Dreadfort by the heir of Domeric, Vayon. Here the Karstarks were formally invitated to a plot to overthrow Beron and install a new regime in the North, one ruled by the Boltons. Hugo was shocked to count the Flints, as well as Lord Burley of Ramsgate and Lord Ryswell in on the plot. But nothing prepared him for hearing that Torrhen Greystark, the Lord of the Wolf's Den, was the primary supporter of Domeric.

Domeric told Hugo how they all mistrusted Beron and saw him as a Wilding, the people they have always kept out of their realm. Not only that, but word had arrived that Beron had killed his father in personal combat, a job he should have left to Ondrew Umber. Now Beron was formally a kinslayer and would be cursed in the eyes of the Gods; it would not be long until the realm would be punished if they accepted this sacrilege. Each Lord also had problems with decisions and policies that Beron was responsible for, and agreed that it was time for him to go. Hugo agreed to deliver the message of the plot to his Lord father, and promised the support of Karstark.

Letting Hugo leave the Dreadfort was perhaps the biggest mistake Domeric made in the course of his rebellion, as it was not long until ravens were flying west and north to alert the Starks as to what Hugo had learned. Domeric realised his mistake too late, and angrily sent riders after Hugo. He also chastised his children for placing their trust in the young man, for it was their idea to include him. It was said that Lyra Bolton and Hugo had developed feelings for one another, and Vayon always got along well with him, seeing him as a close friend.

Beron the Halfling now marches south past the wall, and rests at Last Hearth, ready to disband his levies. The Lord Commander recieved Hugo's raven, and despite the Night Watch's policy of neutrality sends a rider south to find Beron and deliver the message, perhaps in graditude for the help he gave with the Wildings. As soon as Prince Brandon got the news he raised all the troops his could muster and marched out of Winterfell ready to await his father's instructions, and take the initiative if need be. Hugo races to his friend's side to keep him out of danger, but feels torn between duty and friendship as he will surely come face to face with Vayon in battle.

The rebels seek to make the most of what little element of surprise remains. Domeric force marches north to crush Beron beneath the walls of Last Hearth before he can catch wind of the rebellion. Torrhen Greystark musters his men yet finds himself at a crossroads. He has no desire to shed Stark blood, yet some purpose pushes him towards the Boltons. Burley and Roose Flint seek to unite their hosts and push forward to crush Brandon.

The North has been torn asunder. As the flayed man reaches out to grab the wolf by the throat, only one thing can be approaching.

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House STARK of WINTERFELL and their greatest bannermen.

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House BOLTON of the DREADFORT and their allies.

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Thoughts, ideas, and any other comments appreciated.

**Dux** · April 19, 2013, 08:53 AM

I really enjoyed this read!

I'm eager to see the action.

**Badger-dude** · April 19, 2013, 03:17 PM

Hope that you plan on using some of that talent on Fire and Blood =]

**Louis XVI** · April 19, 2013, 03:41 PM

This is great!

extremely small note: Torrhen Tallhart is not Lord of Torrhen's Square but Master seeing that house Tallhart is of masterly rank.

**gangstamaori** · April 20, 2013, 03:54 AM

Chapter I: The Scattered Pack

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death."

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A lone rider speeds south from the Wall with a special mission. Rodrik the Ranger was no stranger to the politics of the North, and it was perhaps for this reason that the Lord Commander picked him to ride towards the Halfling's host. The members of the Night's Watch had an official policy of staying out of worldly affairs - but politics dictated that the guardians of the wall had to maintain good relations with the land owners they protected. It was these Lords they relied on for recruits from the prisons, and even soldiers when a King Beyond the Wall arose. Rodrik also knew that they owed the Starks a lot. It was their King who marched north and slew their foe. Besides, if House Bolton's rebellion was successful, the Watch might find itself with less recruits if the rumours were true. A breathing prisoner is a more useful recruit than a flayed man. With this grim thought Rodrik pressed on, hoping the Halfling was still alive.
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"Lord Greystark never arrived," Ondrew Umber spat. It was said that all the great Northern lords took pride on being steadfast and loyal. The Greystarks, and more recently the Karstarks, point to their blood ties to the ruling Starks as evidence to their boast. The Umber's preferred to show their loyalty by cutting through Wildings and Arryns beside their liege lord.
"Torrhen has had his hands full with incursions into the White Knife. He is nothing if not hesitant to leave his seat. Yet I'm concerned. many of the Northern houses are missing in our host." Beron had pressed on north at half strength - he was nothing if not restless. He was however surprised to have not received any messages on the return march to Last Hearth.
"Beron. You know as I do that something does not seem right."
"Agreed, I will ride south through the Dreadfort on my way to Winterfell to see what Bolton has to say for himself." Ondrew cleared his throat.
"Allow me to come with you."
"No. I need you to hold Last Hearth and wait for any possible messages from the Nights Watch. Just in case the Wildings return. I shall return to the camp and dismiss the levies." Beron replied. "May the Gods keep you."

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Hugo Karstark rode at the front of the large Stark host with the Prince. "Brandon, we MUST turn around march hard north-east now. Join Beron and crush Domeric before this rebellion can grow." The Prince looked hard at his cousin.
"For the last time Hugo, we would never reach the wall in time. Besides, my father commands a large host. The rebels are scattered throughout the realm, it makes more sense to head east and cut them in two. I also want the chance to talk Torrhen Greystark down. And I would much rather have the force of Winterfell behind me when I confront him and his host, lest he is truly lost and seeks to capture me."
"Brandon, for the last time you are making the wrong decision!"
"Cousin, I have heard everything you have had to say." Brandon responded. "I considered the options available and this is the best we can do. I'm sorry your father has no idea about the threat he is facing, but he is not alone. My father and Lord Umber have a great force, and they are no doubt marching south now to confront Domeric. We are best suited to confront the other rebels before they can unite." Hugo clearly was not happy, but Brandon would have none of it. He would be king one day, and while he always desired to surround himself with trusted councilors, he would not be slave to them. There had been too many weak kings throughout the ages, and their realms always suffered for them.

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Everybody in the council chambers looked towards their new king, standing at the end of the table. A tall but stoic man, Domeric Bolton kept his hair combed and his beard cropped; he was considered a handsome yet prematurely aged man. Wearing his grey iron armour with the flayed man of House Bolton etched into his armour, he was prepared for the coming war. Beside him stood his heir Vayon, a young man of eighteen. Among the small crowd of officers gathered the other Boltons stood. Lyra Bolton sat on a wooden chair at the back of the candlelit room, fidgeting with a silver coin, minted in the North by a distant Stark king. Beside her stood the mysterious bastard, Ramsay Snow, wearing the pink of House Bolton, with the sad figure of the flayed man stitched into the material that covered his battle armour.

"Your Grace, the men have begun the march as per your instructions. They should arrive at Last Hearth in a matter of days," one of the captains reported. Domeric looked at the man who spoke.
"I am not the King yet, not until the Halfling is in our custody." the rebel lord replied. He continued, "Snow, I want you to march across the northern bridge with your group of men and swing around west. You're to head towards Last Hearth and take it by storm once Umber has left it to reinforce Stark. I have no doubt that the garrison should be small enough for your little band of followers."
"It will be done, my lord. Umber will be dead before the week is out," Ramsay Snow replied as he made to leave. To this, Domeric moved towards the bastard.
"No." He turned to his captains. "To reiterate. I want Umber, Karstark, and Stark alive. I want them and their families in our control. If we want the support of their houses in the future, it would be wise to ensure that we have not killed their beloved family members. I'm sure that with the recent expedition of Umber and Stark, that the three of them will be a welcomed addition to the Nights Watch." Domeric then turned to Vayon. "Take the troops I have given you and ride east. I counted two ravens sent, and it is possible Arnolf Karstark received one of them. Cut him off, as I do not want him charging towards my flanks at the climax of the battle. Beat him back to Karhold and take him into your custody." To this Vayon nodded, and left after Snow. "Finally, my beloved daughter. I have a small escort ready for you outside the gate, as you have been informed, you are to ride south with all speed to the Wolf's Den. Torrhen is a valued member of our cause, and I want you to be seen around him. Bolton and Greystark together." To this Lyra look up.
"Am I just to make an appearance, or shall I be doing more?" she replied.
"You have an unfettered discretion, just do not shame our House. If you doubt Torrhen's faith in our cause, suggest the possibility of a marriage contract with his son Ethan. Use your wits, and do what you can to help our cause there. I wish to be kept informed, daughter." He then turned again to his captains. "We ride to war."

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Torrhen Greystark peered at his men. For the past week he had been conducting his troops in drills, and supervising the building of forts at either end of the bridge north of the Wolf's Den. He did not relish the possibility of warring with his Stark kin, but every choice a lord makes in life is never easy. He would rather fight Brandon than Vayon, even if he would be labelled as a betrayer. Afterall, it was Vayon whom he had help raise as one of his own sons.

Torrhen's thoughts were quickly interrupted by one of his captains. "My Lord, a message from Lord Bolton via raven." Torrhen took the message from the man's hand and looked at its contents. "What is it, My Lord?"
"Roose Flint and Kyle Burley march west with all haste. Winterfell may have been alerted to our plans. Soldier, order the outriders sent and double the watch. I will not have our camp jumped in the middle of the night."

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Vayon had ridden ahead of his men and dismounted near the bridge where they were to cross. His scouts had previously ridden ahead and assured him that the area was clear, but he wanted to inspect the bridge. He had also deemed in necessary to ride ahead, as to not slow down the quick march of his small host. The bridge appeared steady to Vayon, no obvious sabotage had taken place. He walked to the other end of the bridge and slumped down on the grass to await for his men to catch up. Vayon was struggling to believe the situation, that soon he would have his first taste of war. It seemed strange to him, as he always thought he would spend his years warring against the Andals who liked to raid up the White Knife. Yet here he was, about the engage in war with the father of his best friend, it made him uneasy. Hugo Karstark and Vayon Bolton were both the wardens of Torrhen Greystark, the Lord of Wolf's Den, in their formative years.

Suddenly, Vayon heard the trampling of hooves from behind him, and he quickly spun around, about to draw his sword until he recognised the pink of House Bolton. "My lord, there is no sign of any Karstark men," the outrider reported.
"That makes me uneasy, hopefully they simply have not caught wind of my father's plans. If that's the case, we can advance of Karhold and have the element of surprise. Othewise..." the boy trailed off. He would have to do his part, and hope his lord father was safe. He knew that things could go very bad for them all if they did not catch Beron by surprise.

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A rider in the dark. The knocking of a leather gauntlet against a wooden gate. The cursing of the gate guard. The shouting of a message. The urgent running of feet. The loyal lord arising from sleep to the face of the messenger standing outside his door. The realisation. The lord speaks.

"Beron has left, he is marching towards the Dreadfort! He will be doomed if he is caught in ambush, we must alert him to the danger! Gods, I pray that these traitors are not upon us yet."

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"The lone wolf dies but the pack survives."

**gangstamaori** · April 21, 2013, 05:54 AM

Chapter II: The Giant Who Wields Ice

"Ice had its own beauty."

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Rickard Cassel had been busy at work ever since the raven arrived from the east. Brandon had insisted on taking the majority of the garrison with him when he marched south, even taking the other half of the elite Winterfell guard that his father had left behind. Now, the old castellan of Winterfell was working overtime to ensure the seat of his King would be protected if the Bolton traitor should march on it.

The castellan was well past the prime of his life, but it would take more than the arrival of grey hairs and the weakening of his sword arm to slow Cassel down - and he had indeed been working busy. Black ravens had been send to Deepwood Motte, Moat Cailin and Torrhen's Square asking Houses Glover, Dustin, and Tallhart to prepare for war. Cassel had also been conducting drills with the levies and men-at-arms that still remained, to better prepare them for battle and siege.

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"Sir!" a voice called out from behind him. Rickard turned around to see one of his soldiers standing clutching a bit of paper. Just as he made movement towards the soldier to take the message out of his hand and read it, the soldier looked up at him. "It's a message from Oldtown. Autumn is upon us."

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Beron the Halfling was riding up and down his lines preparing his men for battle and shouting out orders. The Halfling King still could not believe the news that the Umber outrider had delivered. Lord Bolton had revolted, and had taken half the realm with him. As soon as Beron went about ordering his troops to arm themselves, a second message was delivered by one of his scouts, the Bolton Rebel was upon them. Beron was thankful for the few minutes gained from the earlier message. He had managed to form a battle line quite quickly, but there was no doubt his men were nervous. The news of preparing for a sudden battle did not please them, and the majority of them had not yet heard the news in regards to who the foe was. Beron Stark could only hope Umber could arrive in time, to bolster the moral of his men as well as their flanks.

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As planned, the Bolton host advanced out of hiding at dusk. Domeric's scouts had informed him that the Halfling King had arranged his host for battle. While Domeric was angered that his surprise had been ruined, he was still ready to push onwards to battle. While the Stark host was formidable, it was grossly unprepared, and he knew that the opposing host would be on the defensive. Domeric planned to use this to his advantage.

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The Bolton Army.

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Domeric planned to use excessive force on his left flank to crush the opposing Stark right. This would enable him to swing around, surround the Stark host, and crush Beron. A risky plan, but Domeric decided that this was the best way to win the day. The opposing host was no doubt disheartened to hear of having to fight a battle out of nowhere. A long battle may steady their nerves, a quick display of ultimate force would have the opposite effect. He had faith in his captains, they would do the tasks he had given them.

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The Stark and Bolton hosts converge.

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Domeric Bolton turns to his left, and meets the eye of one his captains - a pale man with scruffy ginger hair. "Let us begin this wolf hunt." A wry smile formed on the Rebel Lords face, and then a nod. The Bolton cavalry took off at a brisk pace, and then the howling began. Starting with the bodyguards of Domeric Bolton, the howling of furies began. It spread along the Bolton line, until the opening of the forest that the battle was taking place in was taken over with the cries of hell

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He stepped outside of the command tent, and looked up to see the banner of House Bolton fluttering in the wind.

"The sigil looked like a man dipped in blood."

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Thanks for reading! I do appreciate feedback. If you find any spelling mistakes, or errors in relation to confirmed lore, then please let me know and I will fix it up.

**Dux** · April 22, 2013, 04:27 AM

Very good read!

I highly enjoy this, please continue.

One small note: sometimes your characters refer to the Faith of the Seven and the Seven Hells, that is not what Northerners do. They believe in the old gods.

**gangstamaori** · April 22, 2013, 04:45 AM

Thanks for the input! I saw one reference to the seven hells which I edited. Let me know of any other specific religious errors so I can fix them. I'm a bit hazy on the old gods, are expressions that refer to "the gods" generically okay? I want to avoid refering to them as the old gods, as they certainly wouldn't seem old to the Northerners - but it will get difficult if any southerners show up to distinguish between the gods of the First Men and the pantheon of the Andals.

Thread: [AAR] The Destruction of the Starks Song of Ice and Fire spoilers

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