The cold air bit into my skin as I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the vast expanse of Winterfell. The dawn had barely touched the horizon, and the snow-covered peaks of the North glistened under the pale light. To most, this view was a symbol of strength, of an unyielding legacy that spanned centuries. To me, it was a reminder of the weight I carried—a legacy carved from blood and steel.
The letter in my hand felt heavier than it should. It was a summons, written in the bold hand of Lord Harridan, one of the council members who had served my father. *Urgent matters of state,* it read, but the man's intentions were as transparent as the frozen lake in the valley below. Harridan was no ally; he was a vulture, circling in hopes of exploiting my inexperience.
"Your Grace," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Mara, my steward, standing in the doorway. Her auburn hair was tied back, and her sharp green eyes held a mix of concern and determination. She had been my parents' most trusted advisor, and now, she was mine.
"What is it, Mara?" I asked, tucking the letter into my coat pocket.
"The council awaits your presence in the Great Hall," she said. "But there is another matter that requires your attention."
"Let me guess," I said, raising an eyebrow. "More complaints about the increased patrols?"
"Not this time," Mara replied, her voice lowering. "There's been another incident. A farmstead near the southern woods was attacked. Survivors claim it was a beast, one unlike anything seen before."
A chill ran down my spine, and it wasn't from the cold. "The Rifts," I murmured.
"It's possible," she said. "But we'll need to investigate further. If the rifts are indeed active again, we must act quickly. The last thing we need is panic spreading through the region."
I nodded, my mind racing. The rifts had been quiet for decades, but their resurgence now, just as I was struggling to find my footing as Duke, felt too coincidental.
"Send word to Captain Lorn," I said. "I want his best trackers on this immediately. And inform the council that I will address the matter after the meeting."
Mara inclined her head. "As you wish, Your Grace." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "Be wary of Harridan. He'll test you today."
"Let him," I said, a hint of steel in my voice. "I'll not be bullied in my own hall."
As Mara left, I turned back to the balcony, gripping the stone railing tightly. The horizon was ablaze with hues of orange and pink now, but the beauty of the scene did little to calm the storm within me. I was Duke of Winterfell, heir to a storied past and a protector of the North. Yet, doubts lingered like shadows, whispering that I was not ready.
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, summoning the resolve that my father had instilled in me.
"The blood of the Winterfells runs in my veins," I whispered to myself. "And no matter what comes, I will not let it freeze."
---
The Great Hall was as imposing as ever. Towering pillars of dark stone rose to meet an arched ceiling adorned with banners bearing the sigil of the Winterfell Clan: a silver wolf howling beneath a crescent moon. The air was thick with tension as the council members took their seats around the long oak table.
Lord Harridan was the first to rise as I entered, his graying hair neatly combed and his expression one of practiced neutrality. "Your Grace," he said with a shallow bow. "We are honored by your presence."
"Spare me the pleasantries, Harridan," I said, taking my seat at the head of the table. "What matter is so urgent that it could not wait?"
His lips curved into a thin smile. "The matter of your betrothal, Your Grace."
A murmur rippled through the room, and I felt my jaw tighten.
"Betrothal?" I said, my voice cold. "I was not aware this was a pressing issue."
"With respect, Your Grace, it is," Harridan said smoothly. "The stability of the North depends on strong alliances, and a marriage would cement your position. There are several noble families eager to—"
"Enough," I interrupted, my tone sharp. "The North needs a leader, not a pawn in a political game. My decisions will be made in the interest of my people, not to satisfy the ambitions of others."
Harridan's smile faltered, but he inclined his head. "Of course, Your Grace. Forgive my overstep."
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of reports and debates, but my mind remained restless. The attack on the farmstead, the growing whispers of the Rifts, and now this talk of marriage—it all felt like pieces of a larger puzzle, one I had yet to comprehend.
As the council dispersed, Mara approached me once more. "Captain Lorn has gathered his men," she said. "They're ready to leave at your command."
"Good," I said. "I'll join them."
Her eyes widened. "Your Grace, that's highly unwise. If something were to happen to you—"
"Then the people would know that their Duke does not shy away from danger," I said firmly. "Prepare my horse, Mara. If the rifts are stirring again, I need to see it with my own eyes."
She hesitated, then bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."
As I made my way to the stables, a sense of purpose began to settle over me. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but I could not afford to falter. For the North, for my family, and for the truth behind my parents' deaths, I would face whatever shadows lay ahead.