1 Memories
The Stark by Dscot
I do not own this story.
CH1
I'm not sure when I began to recall my past lives. It's almost like the memories were already there, yet somehow, they felt like they'd always been a part of me. It's quite strange how I can easily remember books I have read, both fiction and non-fiction, just by thinking about them. Somehow, I'm familiar with advanced mathematics and science, but I can't recall how I learned these topics. For instance, I remember reading about the Harry Potter universe in a previous existence; I also remember living in the Harry Potter universe, getting my wand and going to Hogwarts. I'm aware of runes and how to do wandless magic, as well as other advanced magical knowledge. I can't recall how I obtained this knowledge. I have memories of places and objects in the universe of Harry Potter, yet I don't remember interacting with anyone.
In addition, I possess knowledge about events within this universe. I remember details from the television series as well as some information gleaned from the accompanying books. Knowing that the war was going to start and my grandfather and father will be dead in a few months after the tournament at Harrenhal.
Before we continue, let me introduce myself. I am Leon Stark of House Stark. Son to Brandon and Barbary Stark. Grandson to Rickard Stark and Rodrik Ryswell.
My father was a man of intricate complexities, having defied his own father's wishes by marrying my mother beneath a heart tree upon discovering her pregnancy with me. However, when my mother's condition became burdensome, and comforts of The Rillseat couldn't compare to his ancestral home in Winterfell, my father left. My Stark grandfather didn't outright say it, but the feeling that was portrayed in his letters that was sent between himself and my maternal grandfather, was that me and my mother were not welcome in Winterfell. In subsequent discussions with my grandfather Rodrik, it was revealed that my paternal grandfather had reluctantly named me as my father's heir.
During my time growing up at The Rillseat my mother and uncles and aunt doted on me. I was proving to be smarter than the average child. Using compulsions that I knew would not last very long I was able to gather materials to make longer-lasting compulsion. Using iron, I carved myself a bracelet that would make people more likely to listen to me. The longer there is in my present the more it will soak into them. They will not find it unnatural to talk to a child and even take advice from me.
My father would come by every once in a while mostly to do his husbandly duty with my mother. By the next morning he was gone barely taking time to speak to or visit me. Rumor started going through the North that perhaps I was not the heir. There were even rumors to say that my grandfather was a liar and my mother was a whore. To squash the rumors on my fifth name day, my paternal grandfather heavily encouraged my father and mother to throw a party to celebrate and acknowledge me as his heir. He invited lords from all over the north to celebrate Brandon Stark's heir name day. During the first day of the feast, my grandfather Rodrik introduced me to the Lords and Ladies of the North at the festival which lasted four days. On the last day of the celebration my paternal grandfather arrived and decided it was time for me and my mother to come to live at Winterfell.
My Stark grandfather was never cruel towards me but he was never warm. Barely spending any time in our presence and seem to be going out of his way to avoid us. When he had to interact with us he would, however, throw backhanded insults to my mother. My father seems to be upset by the fact that we were living at Winterfell, it seems that before we moved into Winterfell, my father had several mistresses who would regularly accompany him and stay with him in his chambers. The fact that my mother and I lived with him did not stop my father from having numerous public affairs. He did not seem to be ashamed by the fact that he was shaming my mother.
My aunt Lyanna seems to adore me but did not like my mother. She would go out of her way to make snide comments towards her when she thought I wouldn't be able to hear or understand it. She was also happy to join in with her fathers mockery of my mother. Only my uncle Benjen seems to be friendly to me and my mother goes out of his way to spend time with us.
The only time my Stark grandfather ever seemed to show any interest in me was when the Winterfell Maester told him about my advanced reading and writing skills. Maester Walys was a really old man who mostly stayed in his chambers. I was a bit wary of him because there were all these conspiracy theories about him, saying that he was trying to manipulate the Starks and destroy them. So, one day, I decided to snoop around in his personal stuff and letters while he was in a deep sleep. I couldn't find any evidence that he was working against the Starks. In fact, it seemed like he actually cared about the Stark children and was very fond of my late grandmother. There was nothing in his journals that showed any negative feelings towards the North or the Starks. Of course, he wouldn't write down "I'm plotting against the Starks", but there was no sign of any dislike or negative thoughts in any of his journals. I spent hours going through years of entries, but found nothing to suggest he was against us.
What I found really interesting was how differently people in Winterfell responded to my attempts to be treated like an adult. My father, for instance, always saw me as a child no matter what. Whenever I tried to have a serious conversation with him, he would just brush it off as if a little kid was babbling, and sometimes it even made him uncomfortable. My aunt had the same attitude. However, my grandfather and uncle Benjen were much more receptive to my attempts to be seen as an adult.
Over the past two years, I've been gathering resources in Winterfell, knowing that something big was going to happen soon. I used charms and my compelling abilities to persuade my grandfather to give me my own workspace at Moat Cailin. Surprisingly, he agreed without much resistance. It makes me wonder if I even needed to use my compulsions in the first place. Since moving into Moat Cailin neither my aunt or my uncles seem interested in traveling to visit me. This actually worked out well for me because it allowed me to work on my creations without interruptions or questions.
I have meticulously assembled the necessary components to fashion a formidable battalion of ten warriors and their steadfast mounts. Employing a combination of blood, stone, and steel, I have skillfully forged ten formidable soldiers, fully equipped with arms and armor. These towering figures, standing at an imposing height of nearly eight feet, bear the weight of towering tower shields and wield mighty warhammers. Adorned head to toe in a resilient armor of thickly-plated plates, they exude an aura of invincibility. Furthermore, within the same span of time, I have also crafted parchments possessing the extraordinary ability to harbor compelling charms when inscribed upon. These charms possess the power to exert a persuasive influence over others.
It has been seven weeks since the King's notification of my father and grandfather's demise has reached me . In his letter, he demands that I travel to King's Landing to answer for the crimes of my family. I had already foreseen that when my grandfather departed from Winterfell, his journey would lead to the demise of both my father and himself. I find myself grappling with the dilemma of altering the course of history or permitting it to unfold. I was aware that if they were to survive, it would be a considerable span of time before I could assume the position of ruler in the north, enabling me to execute my strategic plans and machinations without interference. I did not desire the presence of someone who would question my authority or possess the power to overrule my decisions. Moreover, even with the influence I possess, the investment of time and effort required to maintain their unwavering obedience would not be justified. The compulsion I possess is limited in its duration, only allowing me to subtly persuade them to agree to matters that hold little significance to them. Consequently, I concluded that my ultimate aspiration is to possess absolute control without being answerable directly to anyone.
As I departed from Moat Cailin and mounted my horse, a multitude of thoughts occupied my mind. Casting a glance towards my grandfather Rodrik, it was evident that he still carried some annoyance after our previous night's heated arguments. Despite his disapproval of my decision to march with the army to war at the tender age of seven, I proceeded to secure my chainmail coif, followed by carefully placing my helm on the saddle hook. Prior to embarking on my journey, I gently rubbed my bracelet, a treasured possession, and the greatest piece I have on the board to further advance my plans, before concealing it beneath my gambeson.
Upon turning my gaze backwards, I took note of the ten golem that I had crafted into my bodyguards. With reins in hand, I deftly directed my horse through the gates, eagerly venturing to the other side. It was there that I was met by an assembly of North's Lords, their presence filling me with pride. I move my gaze in a panoramic view taking in the surrounding fields. Each house of the North, with its respective banner and army, stood resolute, marking a formidable force of nearly 23,000 men eagerly poised to march.
I know that in canon, it is stated that there were approximately 30,000 soldiers aligned with Robert's forces. It is plausible that this figure reflects the fact that Ned Stark likely rallied the northern troops after he arrived in the North. It should be noted that Ned still had a minimum of two days before reaching White Harbor. Knowing what was to come,, I summoned the banners around the same time as my grandfather's arrival in King's Landing. Consequently, this allowed for a period of approximately nine and a half weeks for the troops to assemble at Moat Cailin. Prior to entering the Riverlands, we awaited the arrival of House Reed on the Kings Road for half a day. During this time, we received intelligence from our scout indicating that my uncle Ned, accompanied by the rest of House Manderly, had been sighted. It appears that they had chosen to utilize a ship from White Harbor, ultimately landing along the coast in The Bite, closest to the Kings Road.
I instructed the scout to relay a message to my uncle, requesting him to join us at a designated point further along the Kings Road. Our plan was to continue our march until one hour prior to sunset. At approximately two hours before dusk, our scouts discovered a favorable location atop a hill, located one mile ahead on the road. This spot was conveniently situated near a creek and in close proximity to the Kings Road, making it an excellent site for setting up our camp.
To ensure our defense, I had designed three collapsible towers that could be easily transported with us on our journey. Each tower required three trees to be cut down, serving as their structural support. Once erected, each tower stood at a height of 15 feet and could accommodate 10 bowmen, providing them with adequate protective covering. The assembly process for each tower entailed digging the necessary hole and felling the tree, which could be completed in less than 12 minutes with the assistance of 15 men working together.
During the night before sleeping, I diligently engage in the practice of meditation while reclined in bed. With deliberate, measured breaths, I direct my focus towards the individuals comprising my military units, bolstering their resolve and enabling them to replenish their vitality and concentration for their assigned tasks. Remarkably, my meditative sessions have concurrently increased in duration while affording me some semblance of rest. It is worth noting that a mere two years ago, my endurance was meager, lasting a mere 15 minutes before succumbing to complete exhaustion, requiring a three-hour nap. I have ingeniously incorporated my meditation practice alongside the soldiers' training activities in the designated grounds, concurrently honing the concentration of one group while inducing distraction in the other. Presently, I am capable of sustaining my meditation for slightly over an hour, albeit exceeding an hour and a half would render me utterly exhausted. However, adhering to a duration of 40 minutes leaves me feeling remarkably revitalized, akin to the rejuvenation experienced after a brief, 30-minute slumber.
It was approximately 30 minutes into my meditation when my grandfather informed me that my uncle had just arrived at the camp. While I have not personally encountered Ned Stark, I recall his portrayal in the television series and found him less than impressive. Observing his entrance into my tent under the guidance of Lady Mormont, I took the opportunity to carefully assess him. To my surprise, he bore a striking resemblance to his younger, televised self. Approaching me, he placed his hands gently upon my shoulders, expressing his condolences for the loss of my father. Responding with a melancholic smile, I acknowledged his sentiment but assured him that I too seek retribution for my grandfathers and father's demise.
He nodded, frowning before he advised me that I should return to Winterfell while he takes command of the army to seek vengeance for our family. However, before he could elaborate, I quickly reminded him that I, as the Lord of the North, am responsible for these troops and that this army is mine. I firmly emphasized that I would not entertain any alternative viewpoint on this matter. Sensing the importance of the situation, my grandfather interjected and inquired of Ned whether he recognized my authority as the Lord of the North. In response, Ned appeared affronted, casting a scowl towards my grandfather. Nonetheless, he immediately kneeled and swore allegiance to me as the paramount ruler of the North. Following Ned's display, the remaining northern lords entered the tent.
During the meeting, I took the opportunity to examine the maps of the Riverlands, the Vale, and the Crownlands, neatly spread across the table. In the midst of our deliberations, the topic of our next course of action surfaced. A number of lords advocated for a direct advance towards Kings Landing, suggesting that we scorch the Crownlands along our way. I made a note of the Lords, who thought that was a good tactic to use in our current situation. Marking them as morons. Conversely, Ned informed us that Jon Arryn had intended to proceed to Riverrun after he addressed the rebellious houses in the Vale. Ned suggested establishing communication with both Jon Arryn and House Tully, to foster an alliance. Concurring with Ned's perspective, my grandfather provided additional insights and effectively outlined the most suitable route to take to achieve our objectives.
The following morning, I composed a letter and dispatched it to Hoster employing one of my parchments imbued with compulsions. These compulsions will induce Hoster to replicate his actions as depicted in canon, as well as to encourage him to propose a matrimonial alliance between Catelyn and uncle Ned. Additionally, the compulsion included will encourage him to demand a marriage between his other daughter and House Arryn. Encrypted within the letter was a more protracted yet gradual-acting compulsion, which would be triggered upon Hoster's contact with the parchment. This secondary compulsion aimed to render him more amenable to proposals made by me over the ensuing six-month period, so long as they did not directly impinge upon his own interests.
It was eight days later when we arrived in close proximity to the Crossroad Inn, where we were greeted by a number of Lords from Riverland accompanied by their soldiers. Lord Vypren, Haigh, and Charlton welcomed us approximately a mile away from the inn. The three Lords conveyed to us that Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn awaited our presence at the Crossroad Inn. The sight of his foster father brought immense joy to Ned. Subsequently, it took three days to finalize all the necessary arrangements for forging alliances. Jon and Ned were to be wed to Hoster's daughters, a union that would strengthen our bonds. With discreet finesse, I skillfully included a provision stipulating that Ned's offspring would not inherit the North nor be considered my successors in the event of unforeseen circumstances. I deliberately obfuscated this particular paragraph to ensure its oversight by others for a minimum of eight months.
As preparations were underway for our onward march towards King's Landing, an urgent report arrived that Robert had suffered a defeat in battle against the Reach army. Seeking refuge, he had fled to the Stoney Sept, pursued closely by Targaryen forces. Amidst this troubling news, Ned and Jon engaged in a spirited debate, emphasizing the necessity of joining our forces to confront the approaching Targaryen army. Hoster and my grandfather were in accord with their viewpoint.
Jon, however, attempted to insinuate that Ned should assume leadership of the northern armies. I promptly dismissed this notion and made it clear that my grandfather, Rodrik, would lead the northern forces in my name. The northern Lords murmured their agreement. It took nearly a week to assemble the remaining Tully forces and the Valemen before our march to the Stony Sept commenced.
During the time my grandfather assumed command of the northern forces, I positioned myself on a nearby hill that afforded a panoramic view of the town below. From this vantage point, I observed my grandfather's leadership in action as he boldly led our forces against the Targaryen loyalists. In order to ensure my safety, my grandfather assigned 50 spearmen and my personal retinue of 10 bodyguards to accompany me. One of my bodyguards took charge of my horse's reins as I prepared to engage in battle meditation, allowing my consciousness to flow out.
Consciously directing my thoughts beyond the confines of my physical self, I sought to attune myself to the emotions of the northern soldiers. By allowing my consciousness to expand, I tactfully tapped into the emotional state of the soldiers from the north. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, gradually directing my attention towards the soldiers. I concentrated on the cacophony of clashing swords, the piercing sound of arrows soaring through the atmosphere, and the agonizing screams of the wounded became the focal point of my attention. As I exhaled, I harnessed my energy, channeling it into my battle meditation.
Rocking gently in my saddle, I synchronized my movements with the rhythm of the battle, attuning my mind to the intricate pattern and melodic flow of the conflict. As a result, I witnessed a significant decline in the trepidation and anxiety gripping my soldiers, the fear and anxiety that had weighed upon my soldiers began to dissipate, replaced by a heightened sense of focus and confidence. Their movements gained a heightened precision, and their strikes proved increasingly lethal.
I discerned a palpable sense of confusion and chaos permeating among my adversaries. Their unity waned, gradually eroding their fighting spirit; I skillfully instilled fear within their ranks, causing their once-cohesive front to dissolve into disarray and sluggishness. The resounding clash of swords reverberated throughout the town, as the relentless battle at the Stony Sept raged on. The streets became a haunting spectacle, strewn with the lifeless bodies of Targaryen loyalists, while the air became heavy with the unmistakable scent of blood and filth. The narrow alleys posed difficulties in maneuvering, forcing soldiers into uncomfortably close-quarters combat. The reverberating symphony of clashing blades filled the atmosphere as soldiers valiantly parried and thrust with unwavering determination. With the descent of the sun, a gradual lull befell the battlefield, as the echoes of the battle gradually dissipated. Eventually, the forces of the enemy conceded defeat, retreating from the scene, leaving the triumphant rebels in their wake.
