Chapter 2

Icegate 298 AC

Kayle woke up drenched in sweat, once again haunted by the memories revealed to him by Ljos in his dreams. For the past week, each night had brought him back to the ancient battle between the First Men and the White Walkers. Every iteration of the dream differed—sometimes he was a Knight charging into battle on horseback, while other times he was a footsoldier thrown into the chaotic melee or a towering giant capable of crushing anything with a single swing.

But it didn't end there. The outcomes of the battle varied as well. While they often emerged victorious, there were instances of devastating losses. In those dreams, Westeros succumbed to the relentless army of the dead, with castles swarming with unending hordes of wights. The cold crept southward, reaching even the scorching sand dunes of Dorne.

As Kayle rose from his bed, he made his way to the window, opening the creaking wooden boards that shielded him from the chilling breeze. The day was accompanied by a gentle drizzle. The castle bustled with activity as servants went about their chores, fishermen braved the cold to launch their boats into the sea through the northern gate, and dutiful guards patrolled the walls, rain or shine.

Today marked the departure of Kayle and his father, Adam, for Winterfell, where a suitable match awaited him. The mere thought of marriage made Kayle cringe. After everything he had learned in the past few weeks, marriage was the furthest thing from his mind. If only his brother were still alive—he would be the one facing this situation. But fate had taken him away. Packing up his belongings he remembered the reason for their trip.

Having read about his future betrothed, Kayle found himself unimpressed. Skipping over the descriptions of her beauty, Sansa Stark was a follower of the Seven, not the True and ever-present Old Gods. Furthermore, the reports they received painted her as a true Southerner, blinded by prejudice and ignorant of the harsh realities of life.

The journey to Winterfell with the lord of House Oldgate and their contingent was estimated to take a little less than three weeks. Kayle couldn't help but think that if he were traveling alone, he could probably make it in just two weeks. Sighing, he made his way to the courtyard where his father and the guards awaited him.

"Finally the prodigal son is awake." his father laughed as he arrived. "Sortie up, we'll need to make good ground if we are to get out of the rain," he added.

"Yes, Father," Kayle replied, his gaze drifting to his horse. He spotted his two loyal guards and friends, Jon and Kristoff, already busy saddling up. He greeted them with a tired smile, receiving weary nods in return. Unlike his early-bird father, Kayle and his friends preferred to savor the warmth of their beddings, waking up closer to noon.

Seeing everyone was ready to leave, his father declared the start of their journey. It would take a while but they should get there.

-Break-

Winterfell

With weary steps Eddard stopped in front of his bedroom, he dreaded the conversation he was going to have with his wife. He and Catelyn didn't have a perfect marriage, they married suddenly because of the loss of Brandon. But with the birth of their first son, he hoped to mend their rocky start, unfortunately, he had to bring back his sister's son. A fact that he hid, and presented him to her as his bastard. Though later on with each birth of the rest of their children they had healed their marriage, turning it into a loving one.

But now, Eddard had to broach the delicate subject of marrying off their eldest daughter to one of his allies. The betrothal to House Oldgate had been a long time in the making, repeatedly postponed for various reasons—lack of suitable matches, discrepancies in age, and other complications. It was never the right time, until now, that is.

The heir of House Oldgate was a respectable individual, skilled with a sword, adored by the townsfolk, and a capable ruler according to the reports. Moreover, he possessed a pleasant countenance, one that might even captivate their daughter's heart. The letter requesting a meeting to discuss a potential match felt like a sharp knife to Eddard's heart. He had known this day would come, yet a part of him had hoped that his daughter could be spared from the duties of marriage for a few more years.

Steeling his resolve to finally discuss it with his wife, Eddard entered the room, where his wife was already waiting for him.

-Break-

The journey to Winterfell had been less than pleasant, on more than one occasion they had been attacked by wolves, wild boars, and the occasional suicidal bandit. Yet, as the towering walls of the castle came into view, Kayle and his companions couldn't help but feel a surge of relief wash over them. They could already taste the warm food and hot bath that awaited them, a proper reward for their arduous journey through the cold North and perilous Wolfswood.

Their final day in the Wolfswood had not been so pleasant, their group had been ambushed by a group of wildlings, and they had been desperate for supplies. The attacking wildlings had thrown bodies upon bodies upon their knights, unfortunately, their stone and primitive weapons had been no match. Among the chaos they had stolen more than a few of the scattered supplies in their camp, illuminating their true objective.

Kayle wasn't a stranger to killing, Sea Dragon Point being their home, they had been attacked

by wildlings on more than one occasion, each time they stood strong as their gate and walls held them at bay while their men-at-arms slaughtered them. But seeing wildlings this far south of the wall was concerning, especially a group as big as the one that attacked them. If they traveled by sea he could understand it as the North basically has no Navy, but if that was the case it would have been better to raid near the coasts.

Pushing these concerns to the back of his mind, Kayle and his loyal company redirected their focus to the journey ahead, their destination: Winterfell. As they approached the castle, their bannermen proudly raised their house's distinctive coat of arms, a symbol that signaled their arrival to the castle's inhabitants. It was a call for the gates to be opened, granting them entry into the stronghold that awaited them.

As they crossed the gate of Winterfell, Kayle followed closely behind his father, their horses' hooves echoing in the courtyard. The imposing walls of the castle surrounded them, and they were soon greeted by their liege lord, Eddard Stark, and members of his noble house.

With a respectful nod, Kayle's father initiated the exchange. "My Lord," he greeted, dismounting gracefully from his horse. Kayle followed suit, his gaze shifting toward Lady Catelyn Stark, who fixed him with a scrutinizing stare.

"Lord Oldgate," Eddard replied in his stoic manner. "Come, partake in the traditional hospitality of bread and salt." The offer was made, a symbolic gesture sealing their arrival as honored guests.

As the ceremony was performed, Kayle took the opportunity to observe the other members of House Stark. The Stark heir, who bore a strong resemblance to his father but with brown, curled hair, stood alongside his mother. Robb, the closest in age to Kayle, seemed sturdy and composed. Another boy with black hair, whom Kayle assumed was Brandon, stood nearby. A smaller girl, Arya who kept whispering to her mother, was held back in her arms. And finally, a younger boy with similar features to their heir, Rickon, completed the family portrait. All eyes turned curiously toward Kayle, except for Lady Catelyn, whose gaze remained piercing and unwavering.

"Please forgive our appearance, we had an unsightly encounter with a warband just a few hours ago," Kayle interjected trying to explain their current haggard appearance. Their group was still caked in mud and blood from their encounter earlier.

Eddard intervened, inviting Kayle and his father to meet his family. Leading them forward, he introduced each member, and they exchanged cordial greetings. However, Kayle couldn't help but notice the absence of the eldest Stark daughter.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Kayle inquired politely, "What about the young Lady Stark?"

Eddard cleared his throat, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice. "My eldest daughter is not feeling well at the moment, so she is resting inside the castle."

Eddard then extended his hospitality once again. "Please, come inside. Your guards are welcome to use the barracks. If you require anything, inform Ser Rodrik, and if there is a need for medicine, do not hesitate to have someone fetch the Maester. We wish to ensure your comfort during your stay," he added, embodying the role of the ever-dutiful host, attentive to the needs of his guests.

The sight that greeted them surpassed their expectations—the sturdy walls, standing tall for centuries, held an air of grandeur unmatched by their own home. It was a marvel to behold, a testament to the craftsmanship of ages past.

Kayle couldn't help but recall the legends surrounding Winterfell. If the stories were to be believed, this formidable stronghold was said to have been constructed by none other than the mythical Builder himself, aided by giants and the ancient magic of the Children. The mere thought of such ancient and powerful forces coming together to create this formidable bastion filled him with a sense of wonder.

Having known that the Children still exist, Kayle couldn't help but be curious about the secrets held by the castle itself. As they ventured deeper, Kayle couldn't help but marvel at the intricate architecture, the rich tapestries adorning the walls, and the echoes of history that seemed to resonate through every stone. The walls of the castle have witnessed history, it has tales of battles fought, alliances forged, and the enduring spirit that kept House Stark in power for a long time.

After Kayle had freshened up and attired in a simple yet elegant black tunic and breeches, Kayle emerged from his room, exuding a quiet confidence. The dark hue of his clothing accentuated his short, dark hair and emphasized the striking contrast of his electric blue eyes against his fair skin. His sharp northern features gave him an air of both strength and refinement, aptly tuned for the noble image he wanted to exude.

With measured steps Kayle began his walk along the warm hallways of Winterfell, the torches spaced perfectly, illuminated the way, carrying the scent of burning wood that fit the atmosphere naturally.

After a while, Kayle followed the sound of commotion and found himself drawn to a scene unfolding in the corridor. There, he witnessed a fiery exchange between a red-haired young lady and the spirited Arya Stark. Intrigued, he positioned himself discreetly in a corner, eager to observe the interaction without interfering.

"You ugly little thing! Give it back!" the red-haired lady's voice rang out, filled with frustration.

A mischievous grin played across Arya's face as she taunted, "Catch me if you can!" With a burst of laughter, she darted away, swiftly navigating the halls with agility.

The red-haired lady's anger intensified, her expression contorted with irritation as her eyes locked onto Kayle, who had been a witness to the situation. Sensing her gaze, Kayle instinctively held his ground, refusing to back down. Just as he was about to continue his exploration of the castle, he heard her voice, dripping with entitlement.

"You there," she commanded, "fetch me a basin of water."

Raising an eyebrow, Kayle couldn't help but be taken aback by her audacity. He didn't even know her and she just assumed he was one of her servants.

"I believe you're perfectly capable of fetching it yourself," Kayle retorted, his voice bordering on politeness and annoyance. With a confident stride, he turned around and left, leaving the red-haired lady to her own devices.

Besides, he had other, more serious problems to deal with. Deciding that he needed some guidance, Kayle began to head to Winterfell's Godswood. His father had advised him that whenever he needed help, he should pray to a heart tree.

As he entered the serene sanctuary, the air thick with the scent of nature and peace, Kayle approached the towering heart tree with respect. Its gnarled branches spread wide, leaves rustling gently in the breeze. The face carved into the bark seemed to gaze at him with a mix of wisdom and compassion.

Taking a deep breath, Kayle knelt in front of the tree and closed his eyes, and let his thoughts and worries flow. Wishing for a bit of help, he began to pray, silently pouring out his concerns about the upcoming troubles and seeking guidance from the Old Gods. He spoke of his doubts about his impending marriage, the wildling attack on their journey, and the incoming Darkness.

Kayle pleaded that the Old Gods send him the help they promised. Even though the Children told him that he would find salvation in Winterfell, he still didn't know what to look for. Kayle just hoped that it would come soon, otherwise, he wouldn't know where to start.

As his prayer concluded, Kayle felt a sense of peace wash over him. Though the heart tree did not offer him direct answers or solutions, he felt at ease knowing that the ancient power that resided within the Godswood still watched over them.

Just as Kayle was about to leave the Godswood, a young man approached him.

"My Lord." the young man greeted. "Lord Stark and Lord Oldgate sent for you."

"Where?" Kayle asked.

"At the main hall, My lord." The young man replied.

Looking at the newcomer, his features are reminiscent of House Stark. With black flowing hair and a strong jawline that resembled Eddard Stark. "Who are you?" Kayle couldn't help but ask.

"Jon Snow, My lord."