Chapter 31: The Black Dragon's Fury, and Winter's Steadfast Neutrality
The year one hundred and ninety-six After Aegon's Conquest saw the long-simmering discontent in the Seven Kingdoms finally erupt into open, calamitous war. Daemon Blackfyre, the charismatic legitimized son of Aegon IV, spurred on by the iron will of Aegor "Bittersteel" Rivers and the grievances of countless disaffected lords, raised his black dragon banner in defiance of his half-brother, King Daeron II Targaryen. The First Blackfyre Rebellion had begun, a conflict that would drench the fields of Westeros in the blood of kinsmen and test the foundations of the Iron Throne.
In the North, Warden Cregan Stark – his public persona that of a stern, pragmatic ruler in his prime, his true age now exceeding a century and a quarter – received the news with grim predictability. The hidden immortal council, now numbering eight with Cregan and his son Jonnel among its "younger" active members, convened via their obsidian mirrors, the ancient voices of Jon, Beron, Edric, Torrhen, Brandon, and Rickard offering centuries of accumulated wisdom.
"So, the Unworthy's gift bears its bitter fruit," Jon Stark's voice, timeless and devoid of surprise, echoed from his Frostfangs sanctum. "Daemon possesses the charisma, the martial prowess, and now, the banner to rally those who resent Daeron's Dornish queen, his scholarly court, or simply yearn for a king more in Aegon the Conqueror's martial mold."
"Bittersteel is the true poison in this brew," Edric observed, his spectral image sharp. "His hatred for Bloodraven and his ambition for Daemon are the bellows fanning these flames. This will not be a swift conflict."
The Starks' intelligence network, refined over generations by Finnan's successors and augmented by Jonnel Stark's keen oversight, provided detailed reports as the rebellion unfolded. They learned of Daemon's early victories, of lords flocking to his cause, of the realm dividing. Key battles were analyzed with cold precision – the tactics, the commanders, the brutal dragon-less warfare (for the Targaryens still had no dragons to speak of since the Dance, relying on conventional arms and the legitimacy of Daeron's line, while Daemon relied on his personal prowess and the Valyrian steel sword Blackfyre).
Both Daeron II and Daemon Blackfyre, predictably, sent envoys north to Winterfell, each demanding the North's allegiance and the strength of its famed warriors. Warden Cregan received them with the grave courtesy befitting their stations, but his response, crafted in careful consultation with the hidden council, was unwavering.
"The North remembers its oaths to the Iron Throne and to King Daeron, the rightful heir of Aegon the Conqueror," Cregan declared to Daemon's envoy, a swaggering Reach lord. "But the North also remembers the cost of southern wars. Our lands are vast, our winters harsh, our people focused on survival against the elements and the threat of wildling incursions. We have no quarrel with those who style themselves Blackfyre, nor do we seek to meddle in disputes over the line of succession that are best settled by those south of the Neck. The North will remain neutral. We will guard our borders, and we will pray for a swift end to this tragic conflict."
To King Daeron's envoy, a more somber and learned man from the Crownlands, Cregan offered similar sentiments, emphasizing the North's loyalty to the established king but stressing its inability to commit significant forces so far south, especially with the ever-present dangers unique to their own vast territory. He did, however, offer Daeron continued shipments of Northern timber, iron, and perhaps even a small contingent of "specialist trackers" (disguised Winter Wolves) to assist the King's forces in rooting out rebel sympathizers in the Riverlands – a carefully calculated gesture of nominal support that cost the North little but provided valuable intelligence and maintained a semblance of fealty without true military commitment.
The pressures were immense. Both sides hinted at dire consequences for continued neutrality. But the North, under Cregan's firm public leadership and Jon's unseen guidance, held fast. Their kingdom was a fortress, its true strength unimaginable to the warring factions. Moat Cailin stood as a formidable deterrent to any thought of southern invasion, and the sheer logistical nightmare of campaigning in the North gave even the most desperate rebel or loyalist commander pause.
Amidst this turmoil, the Starks continued their own sacred, generational work. Beron Stark, Jonnel's eldest son, now a man of forty, his true age closer to seventy but his Elixir-sustained form that of a warrior in his prime, had completed his final trials. He had led several perilous expeditions beyond the Wall with the Ice Watchers, commanded a detachment of Winter Wolves in discreetly neutralizing a resurgent dark cult in the Sea Dragon Point, and demonstrated a profound understanding of their family's grimoires and the responsibilities of their immortal vigil.
In a solemn ceremony within the heart of Wyvern's Eyrie, surrounded by his ageless kin and the silent majesty of their eleven dragons, Beron drank the True Elixir of Life from the Grand Philosopher's Stone. He became the ninth immortal Stark, the newest sentinel against the Long Night, his spirit anchored to the eternal, his life dedicated to the unending watch.
For his dragon, Beron formed an undeniable bond with Shade, the last of Obsidian's clutch, a creature of shadows and starlight, its scales like polished night, its eyes a deep, knowing sapphire. Shade was a dragon of subtlety and cunning, its movements almost spectral, its fire a concentrated beam of cold, dark energy that seemed to absorb light rather than emit it. Beron, with his quiet intensity and strategic mind, was a perfect match for this enigmatic wyrm. His first flight on Shade's back, alongside his father Jonnel on Cinder and grandfather Cregan on Obsidian, marked the full integration of another generation into their dragonriding ranks. The three of them, mounted on the dragons of the Smoking Sea clutch, became a formidable, specialized unit within the Stark aerial forces.
Beron's induction into the hidden council brought new energy and focus. He was tasked with overseeing the ongoing analysis of the Blackfyre Rebellion, sifting through intelligence reports to identify long-term threats and opportunities for the North. He also took on a role in further developing the "dragon song" as a defensive and potentially offensive weapon, working with his father and grandfather to refine the complex harmonies and their precise effects.
While the South bled, the Starks subtly exploited the chaos where prudent. Finnan's network, under Jonnel's direction, managed to acquire several priceless Valyrian artifacts – a set of ancient dragonlord maps detailing forgotten sea routes, a tome on Valyrian blood magic (for defensive study only, Jon firmly decreed), and even a clutch of three unusually colored, though seemingly inert, dragon eggs from a desperate merchant prince in Pentos who was selling off his family's heirlooms to fund his escape from the spreading conflict. Jon viewed these eggs with cautious optimism; their lineage was unknown, their viability uncertain, but every potential addition to their draconic strength was a worthy gamble. They were placed in the deepest, geothermally heated incubation chambers of Wyvern's Eyrie, their fate uncertain.
Arya Stark, her wisdom now as deep and ancient as the roots of the oldest weirwoods, worked with Lyanna, Serena, and her great-great-niece Lyra (Jonnel's sister, now a powerful healer and Greenspeaker in her own right) to shield the North from the spiritual poisons of the war. The sheer scale of death and hatred emanating from the South created a dark miasma in the magical spectrum, a psychic blight that could affect the land and its people. The Stark women, drawing upon the amplified power of their interconnected Heart Tree network and the ancient lore from the Nightfort, wove intricate wards of purification and spiritual resilience across their borders. They also discovered that the "Great Shepherd" mentioned in the Nightfort scrolls seemed to be a title that could be claimed by different powerful entities among the Others, or perhaps even by mortal sorcerers who sought to command the dead on a vast scale – a chilling revelation that added new urgency to their research into necromantic defenses.
The Battle of the Redgrass Field, the decisive clash of the First Blackfyre Rebellion, was observed by Jon's scrying devices with grim fascination. He saw Daemon Blackfyre, a heroic, tragic figure, cut down by Bloodraven's archers, the Raven's Teeth. He saw Bittersteel rally the fleeing rebels, snatching the sword Blackfyre from his fallen half-brother before leading the retreat. The loyalists had won, but at a terrible cost. The realm was scarred, the Targaryen dynasty still divided by hatred and suspicion.
In the aftermath, Warden Cregan Stark sent a formal message to King Daeron II, congratulating him on his hard-won victory and reaffirming the North's steadfast loyalty to the Iron Throne, while also subtly reiterating the North's need to focus on its own recovery from a particularly "harsh winter" (a convenient excuse for their non-involvement). Daeron, his reign now secured but his kingdom impoverished and deeply fractured, was in no position to question the North's excuses. He accepted their fealty, grateful for any semblance of stability from his largest, if most distant, domain.
Bittersteel and Daemon's surviving sons fled to Essos, taking the sword Blackfyre with them, ensuring that the Blackfyre cause would live on, a festering wound that would plague the Targaryens for generations. Jon Stark foresaw this with chilling clarity. "This is not an end, but a beginning of sorrows for House Targaryen," he told the council. "Their internal conflicts will continue, a recurring fever. It only underscores the wisdom of our path – unity within our own hidden ranks, unwavering focus on the true enemy, and the preservation of our strength while others squander theirs."
His own grand projects continued. The Wall, now a radiant sentinel, its magical charge maintained and subtly fine-tuned, stood as a testament to their power. The Sentinel Stones beyond the Wall provided invaluable early warnings, their network expanding. Starksteel production was refined, their armories filled with weapons and armor that could turn aside death itself. The dragons of Wyvern's Eyrie, now numbering fourteen with the potential new clutch (their viability still unknown), were a hidden legion of unparalleled might.
Jon, Beron, Edric, Torrhen, Brandon, Rickard, Cregan, and now young Beron the Second – eight immortal Starks, soon to be nine if the new Beron proved his ultimate worthiness for the Elixir in the coming decades – stood as the unseen architects of the North's destiny. They had weathered another storm of southern ambition, their secrets intact, their power growing, their vigil unbroken. The Black Dragon's fury had passed, leaving scars upon the realm. But Winter's ancient heart beat strong, its guardians ever watchful, their gaze fixed on the long, cold night that was always, inevitably, coming.