Chapter 1

The biting wind howled across the desolate, frozen expanse near the Wall of Westeros, whipping up flurries of snow that danced and swirled like malevolent spectres. The sun, a pale, weak disc in the sky, offered no warmth or respite from the relentless cold that numbed fingers and froze breath before it even had a chance to escape one's lips. It was a place where only the most hardened souls could endure, where isolation and loneliness were as much a part of the landscape as the jagged, ice-clad peaks that stretched out towards the horizon.

Rising from this harsh land stood Frostfall, the ancestral seat of House Everwinter. The castle loomed over its surroundings, a sentinel of black stone and iron that had weathered countless storms and wars. Its imposing walls, thick and fortified, held within them an air of foreboding, as though the very stones themselves bore witness to the weighty history and secrets that permeated every corner of the fortress.

Frostfall's towers pierced the sky like the icy fingers of some ancient, slumbering god, their arrow slits watching over the frigid expanse with a silent vigilance. The great oaken doors, bound with bands of cold iron and ancient magic long forgotten, stood closed against the elements, sealing away the inner sanctum of House Everwinter from both curious eyes and the cruel bite of winter's grasp.

Within these walls, the members of House Everwinter lived and breathed the legacy of their ancestors; each nook and cranny of the castle holding echoes of the past, of whispered secrets, and the quiet, sombre laughter of ghosts long gone. The great hall, with its vaulted ceiling and massive hearth, had been witness to feasts and revelry as well as solemn councils of war. The library, hidden behind a labyrinthine maze of corridors, contained rows upon rows of dusty tomes and scrolls that held the knowledge and wisdom of generations that their heirs could no longer decipher.

Yet, despite the sense of history that clung to the castle walls like a cobweb, there was an undeniable undercurrent of determination and ambition that coursed through the veins of House Everwinter. It was a defiance against the encroaching darkness, fueled by a burning need to reclaim their former glory, to carve out a place for themselves in the ever-changing tapestry of Westeros, no matter the cost. And at the heart of this fiery resolve stood Lady Valeria Everwinter, the silver-haired matriarch whose grey-green eyes seemed to see far beyond the frost-rimed battlements, as if gazing into the very heart of destiny itself.

Lady Valeria Everwinter stood atop the battlements of Frostfall, her silver hair a banner in the biting winds. She gazed out at the desolate landscape, a sea of ice and snow that stretched far beyond the horizon. A sense of isolation washed over her, but there was no time for melancholy. The future of House Everwinter hung in the balance.

Ser Eldric Everwinter's voice echoed off the castle walls as he called out to his mother from the courtyard below. His words were met with shouts and clangs of metal swords as his peers gathered in circles, practising their combat skills. "Mother," Ser Eldric shouted again. "Come watch us train!"

"Very well, my son." Lady Valeria descended the stone steps to join him, her breath crystallizing in the frigid air.

Clad in fur-lined armour, Ser Eldric sparred with his fellow soldiers, his sword flashing in the pale sunlight. Each swing showcased his skill and determination, traits that had been passed down through generations of Everwinters. As he fought, he stole glances at his mother, seeking her approval.

"Your form is improving, Eldric," Lady Valeria observed in a cool voice, though pride flickered in her eyes. "But you must always be prepared for an unexpected adversary."

Eldric reluctantly paused the sparring match, wiping his brow in frustration. "I understand what you're saying, Mother," he exhaled, pushing away the thought of his family's legacy crumbling under his watch. He knew that he had to take a stand to restore their honour, but he was far from sure if it was a battle worth fighting.

"Your dedication does you honour," she said, her thoughts turning to their ancestors and the sacrifices they had made. "But we must tread carefully. Westeros is fraught with danger, and we are but one house among many."

"Every house has its strengths and weaknesses," Eldric argued, resuming his practice with renewed vigour. "We need only find the right allies, those who share our goals."

"Perhaps," Lady Valeria conceded, her gaze never leaving her son. "But do not forget what happened to your father or the countless others who sought power through alliances and war."

Lord Luton Everwinter was a man of great talent, with a mind as sharp as his sword. As the young heir of House Everwinter back in the Tourney of Storm's End, he made a name for himself as the winner of the melee, capturing the attention of the Prince of the Realm, Rhaegar Targaryen, in the process. He became one of the prince's closest friends and allies, and Prince Rhaegar grew to rely on his counsel. When Robert's Rebellion took hold, Lord Luton refused to turn on his friend and brought House Everwinter into battle as the only Northern House on the Targaryen's side, vowing that his dear friend would have never abducted Lyanna Stark. Some said Lord Luton hoped to curry favour with the likely future King of Westeros. Some said Lord Luton was blinded by his friendship with the prince who shared his love for studying ancient magic. Regardless of his reasons, when Robert struck Rhaegar down at the Battle of the Trident, House Everwinter was forced to quickly kneel to House Stark to save their own honour.

In the years that followed, Lord Luton had toiled to rebuild the realm's trust in his house. He named his firstborn daughter Lyanna in honour of the Starks and played a key role in quelling the Greyjoy Rebellion. But the gods of old and new were cruel, as he fell fatally ill not long after he returned home from the Iron Islands. His widow was left with no choice but to rule House Everwinter until Eldric would come of age.

"I have not forgotten," Eldric said, his voice heavy with the weight of responsibility. "But I believe we can succeed where they failed."

Eldric and his mother Lady Valeria had ventured forth to the great Northern Houses of House Umber, House Mormont, and House Karstark. At each visit, they brought gifts and spoke passionately of their desire for stronger alliances. Eldric's many excursions near the Wall to thrawt Wilding raids had also earned the respect of many nearby houses, with many agreeing to join forces against any outside threat.

Despite his numerous achievements, Eldric continued to face scepticism from some Northerners. His father's legacy had cast a long shadow over him, and many found it difficult to separate the son from the sire. Only Lady Valeria saw the true extent of Eldric's kindness and wisdom; she had been his guiding star since he was born. She often stressed upon him the virtues of patience and prudence, which in turn became blessings for House Everwinter. But despite being cautious, Eldric remained humble and never allowed his accomplishments to get to his head. He looked up to his mother not just as a guide but also as a confidant. Her words carried more weight than those of any man.

The chilly Northern wind picked up, howling through the trees around them like a melancholic symphony playing.

"Perhaps you are right, my son," Lady Valeria mused, contemplating her son's words. "We have indeed received an interesting raven from our liege lords at Winterfell."

Eldric's piercing blue eyes widened at this piece of news. They had only received news where necessary in most cases from the Starks since his father sided with Rhaegar. It was rare for ravens to arrive from Winterfell out of the blue.

"We shall discuss the contents of the letter in my solar," Lady Valeria said firmly.

"Whatever the future holds, Mother, know this: We will face it together, as a family." Eldric vowed, his sword stopping mid-swing as he looked up at her, his eyes bright and determined.

"Indeed, we shall, my son," she replied, her voice equally resolute. With that unspoken agreement reached, mother and son returned inside House Everwinter.