The Wolf of Ice Eddard Stark Eddard Stark stood beside the dying fire in the command tent, still wearing the clothes he had slept in, days past when King Robert Baratheon commanded Lord Eddard Stark to travel west immediately.
Ned put on his armor silently After doning his armor, he walks toward the the command tents Where Stannis Baratheon stood across the table, studying the map “We’ll ride today Lord Stark so what about the army?” “I am to bring enough men to protect myself, but Robert specifically requests my presence, not the entire northern host.” Stannis looked toward the map spread across the table.
The Green Fork.
Moat Cailin.
The Neck.
The Westerlands.
Then his eyes narrowed.
“An army marches slowly we will be visible from a mile away.” Ned nodded.
“And the Ironborn know that.” “They may attempt another attack.” “They will.” Stannis looked at him.
“You should leave the infantry.” Ned had already reached the same conclusion.
“I intend to.” His finger moved across the map.
“The bulk of our forces will remain here.
Moat Cailin must not be left undefended.” “And what will you take?” Ned looked toward the stable yards outside.
“My cavalry.” Stannis raised an eyebrow.
“All of them?” “Every rider who can keep pace.” Stannis considered the decision.
“Fast.” “Exactly.” “If we are attacked on the road, cavalry gives us room to maneuver.” “And if the Ironborn attack Moat Cailin?” Stannis’s expression hardened.
“They will discover that the North still has teeth.” Stanis nodded.
“Then we understand one another.” By midday, the order had gone out.
The Northern army prepared to divide.
Thousands of infantrymen remained behind to strengthen Moat Cailin.
Archers occupied the towers.
Engineers reinforced the gates.
Supplies were moved into the fortress, and additional watchposts were established along the river.
Ned did not like leaving.
But he trusted his men.
And he trusted his bannermens.
At the head of several thousand mounted warriors, Eddard Stark rode west.
The northern cavalry moved like a gray river across the countryside.
Banners of the great houses snapped in the wind.
Stark.
Manderly.
Karstark.
Umber.
Glover.
Cerwyn.
Each column moved beneath its own colors, yet all followed the direwolf.
Ned rode near the front.
His cloak whipped behind him.
Ice rested across his saddle.
The Valyrian steel sword remained sheathed.
He hoped it would stay that way.
But something troubled him.
The summons had come too quickly.
The reports from the west had been vague.
And Robert Baratheon was many things.
Careless.
Loud.
Impulsive.
But he was not usually vague when lives were at stake.
Ned looked toward the horizon.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
——– The Ironborn Pov Far to the west, another army waited.
The Ironborn had gathered along a rocky coastline, their ships anchored offshore.
Their commanders had sent ravens.
Then more ravens.
Then ships.
They had demanded reinforcements from the Iron Islands.
More ships.
More warriors.
More axes.
More blood.
But Nothing came.
No answer.
No fleet.
No message.
Nothing.
Their commanders did not understand.
They assumed the Iron Islands were simply preparing a larger force.
They assumed their king Balon Grayjoy and the captains were planning something greater.
Their pride would not allow another possibility.
That their homeland had already fallen.
That their ships had already burned.
That their halls had already been emptied.
That the Iron Islands themselves had been conquered by a young wolf they barely knew existed.
Jon Snow had already passed judgment upon them.
But the Ironborn did not know.
And because they did not know…
They continued the war.
One of their scouts came running into the command tent.
“Captain Harras Pyke,!” Harras with the other men turned.
“What?” “The Northmen.” “Where are they now?
” “Captain an army was spotted Moving west by the banners that hang on them they are the Northern host with The army of The Baratheons.” The commanders gathered around the map.
“How many soldiers do they have?” “Thousands captain, all them are mounted in horses.” A captain grinned.
“And Stark where is the Wolf the north?
Is that Frozen twak among the army?” The scout nodded.
“Eddard Stark rides with them captain.” The tent fell silent.
Then smiles appeared.
“He has abandoned the fortress those fools hahahaha” “Not abandoned,” another corrected.
“He has stripped it.” The commanders studied the map.
“So the wolf is with Stannis Baratheon, this will be tricky but not something out Axes connat handle” Two enemies.
One road.
One opportunity.
The commander slammed his fist onto the table.
“We can kill them both.” A younger captain hesitated.
“But the Stark has cavalry captain.” “So do we you f*cking cunt- a huge iron born captain glared at the young captain “if you hesitate again i will shove my axe into your ass ye hear me lad ?
.” “Thats enough!” Harras Pyke have spoken Then He pointed toward the map.
“We need the right ground.” “This road ahead passed between two rocky ridges.
A perfect killing ground.
We’ll Prepare the ambush here.” The Ironborn moved before dawn.
They hid their warriors among the rocks.
Archers climbed the ridges.
Spearmen concealed themselves beneath the trees.
Others waited in shallow trenches dug beside the road.
Their horses were kept far away.
Their ships remained hidden along the coastline.
They would strike from every direction.
No retreat.
No warning.
No mercy.
One commander looked toward the road.
“When Stark enters the valley…” He smiled.
“…the wolf dies.” —– Eddard Stark lead the Northern Army Scouts was command to ride first to look for posible ambushes, Alas even how careful the scouts are they couldn’t see everything.
The ambush came at noon.
The first arrow struck a horse.
It screamed loud, full of pain.
The animal collapsed.
Its rider barely managed to roll clear before another arrow buried itself in the ground beside his head.
“AMBUSH!
Ambush!” The cry spread through the column.
Then the hills came alive.
Hundreds of Ironborn warriors emerged from hiding.
Arrows poured down from the ridges.
Men screamed.
Horses panicked.
The northern formation shattered.
“SHIELDS men!
Raise up your shields!
And FORM RANKS!” Ned drew Ice.
His voice thundered across the battlefield.
But the Ironborn had chosen their ground well.
The cavalry could not form properly.
The road was too narrow.
The ridges were too steep.
And the enemy had already surrounded them.
“Ride!” Ned pointed toward the western slope.
“Break through!” The northern cavalry charged.
Horses thundered across the earth.
Steel flashed.
Ironborn spears rose.
The first collision was catastrophic.
Men were thrown from saddles.
Horses trampled warriors beneath their hooves.
Axes smashed into shields.
The narrow road became a slaughterhouse.
Ned fought at the center.
Ice moved like a silver-white blur.
One Ironborn swung an axe.
Ned blocked.
The impact nearly tore the sword from his hands.
He stepped forward.
Ice cut through the man’s armor.
Another came from the side.
Ned turned.
Blocked.
Countered.
A third.
Then a fourth.
There were too many.
“Protect Lord Stark!” Northern soldiers formed around him.
But the Ironborn kept coming.
They had expected this.
They had planned for it.
Their horns sounded from the ridge.
More warriors emerged.
Ned looked around.
His men were surrounded.
The cavalry could not maneuver.
Their horses were exhausted.
The Ironborn were closing from every side.
Then a northern knight fell beside him.
Another followed.
Ned’s breathing became heavier.
Blood ran down his cheek.
He looked toward the sky.
Gray clouds covered the sun.
The wind grew colder.
One of the Ironborn commanders saw him.
“There!” He pointed.
“That’s Stark!
Kill him!” Hundreds of warriors turned toward Ned.
The commander raised his axe.
“Kill the Wolf!”.
The Ironborn charged.
Ned tightened his grip on Ice.
He knew.
Steel would not be enough.
Not this time.
His eyes closed.
Ever since he received the gift from the mysterious man, he had hidden what lived within him.
The power of the Ōtsutsuki The power of Chakra.
The ability he had sworn never to reveal unless there was no other choice.
But there was no other choice.
Ned droped his sword Ice toward the ground .
The battlefield suddenly became silent.
Not truly silent.
But to those closest to him, it seemed so.
The screams faded.
The clash of steel disappeared.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Frost spread from beneath his boots.
Across the mud.
Across broken shields.
Across blood-soaked ground.
The Ironborn slowed.
“What…” One man stared at the earth.
“Ice?” A crack appeared.
Then another.
The ground exploded with frost.
Ned’s eyes opened.
They were cold.
Colder than the winter sea.
Ned made some hand gestures and silently murmured.
“Ice Release: Hyoton (Ice Style Direwolf living ice technique).” The air screamed.
Ice erupted from the ground.
It twisted.
It grew.
Bone formed from frozen water.
Muscle.
Fur.
Claws.
A massive head emerged.
Then shoulders.
Then four enormous legs.
A creature stepped from the ice.
A direwolf.
Not a sculpture.
Not a statue.
A living beast.
Its fur appeared almost white beneath the gray sky, each strand formed from shimmering frost.
Its eyes burned with an unnatural blue light.
It stood nearly as tall as a warhorse.
The Ironborn stopped.
Even the bravest among them stared.
The creature opened its jaws.
A deep growl rolled across the battlefield.
The ground trembled.
Ned pick up his valerian sword and raised It.
The direwolf moved.
It vanished in a blur of frost.
An Ironborn warrior barely had time to raise his shield.
The wolf struck him.
He was thrown ten feet through the air.
Another swung an axe.
The direwolf twisted aside.
Its jaws closed around the man’s shield.
The shield froze instantly.
The wolf tore it apart.
Panic spread through the Ironborn ranks.
“DEMON!
Ahhhhhhhh!” “IT’S A WOLF!
Helpp” “FALL BACK!
Full back!” Ned pointed.
“Forward.” The ice direwolf charged.
Northern soldiers stared for only a heartbeat.
Then they remembered who they were.
They were Northmen.
They had seen the impossible before.
And if their lord had summoned a beast of winter…
Then winter itself had joined the battle.
“FOR THE NORTH!” The cavalry charged again.
This time, the Ironborn broke.
The direwolf tore through their formation, moving with terrifying speed.
Everywhere it passed, frost spread.
Ironborn weapons froze in their hands.
Shields became brittle.
The ground turned slick beneath their feet.
Ned followed behind it.
Ice in his hands.
His soldiers around him.
Together they became an unstoppable wave.
The ambush had been designed to destroy the Northern army.
Instead, it had created a monster.
The Ironborn commander watched his carefully planned battle collapse.
“No…” He screamed aloud The ice direwolf turned toward him.
Its blue eyes locked onto his.
The commander stumbled backward.
Ned approached.
Blood covered his armor.
His breathing was heavy.
But his expression was calm.
“You wanted the wolf.” The commander raised his axe.
Ned lifted Ice.
“You found him.” The two charged.
Steel struck steel.
The Ironborn commander attacked with everything he had.
Ned parried.
The commander swung again.
Ned stepped aside.
Ice flashed.
The iron born commander fell with a huge wound from his neck down to his waist .
Silence spread across the valley.
The surviving Ironborn looked around.
Their ambush had become a massacre.
Those who could still run fled into the hills.
Those who remained threw down their weapons.
Ned stood among the dead.
The ice direwolf remained beside him.
Its blue eyes watched the fleeing Ironborn.
Then it looked toward Ned.
For a moment, neither moved.
Ned reached out.
His hand touched the creature’s frozen fur.
The wolf lowered its head.
Then the chakra began to fade.
Its body cracked.
The enormous creature slowly dissolved into snow and ice, scattering across the battlefield like winter dust.
Ned stood alone.
His men stared at him.
No one spoke.
Finally, Stannis approached.
His armor was battered.
Blood stained his sword.
He looked at the frozen battlefield.
Then at Ned.
“How long do you have that magic Lord stark??” Ned said nothing.
Stannis’s eyes narrowed.
“How long have you possessed this power?” Ned looked toward the western horizon.
“Long enough.” Stannis studied him.
Then he looked down at the dead Ironborn.
“Robert, the king should know.” Ned’s expression hardened.
“Perhaps.” A cold wind passed between them.
Far away, thunder rolled.
Ned sheathed Ice.
“First, we reach the Westerlands.” Stannis nodded.
“And afterward?” Ned mounted his horse.
His soldiers watched him differently now.
Not with fear.
Not entirely.
With something closer to awe.
Ned looked back toward the road they had come from.
The Ironborn had wanted to kill the Wolf of Winterfell.
Instead, they had awakened something buried beneath the snow.
Something old.
Something dangerous.
Something that had no intention of remaining hidden forever.
Ned turned his horse west.
“Every one carry the wounded our killed brothers will be buried here Lord Cerwin please see to ou fallen soldiers Lord Cerwin: “aye, lord stark i will follow your command” he look at lord stark with a mixture of respect and fear.
The magic lord stark have shown is terrifying.
Eddard then shouted in a cold tone ,Ride!
We ride to west” The Northern cavalry moved.
Behind them lay the battlefield.
Ahead waited the Westerlands.
The wolves were moving.
And Westeros had yet to realize that winter had begun to awaken.
AN.
(Many must be confused about why Ned Stark is quite weak.
It’s because he has only had more than two months of training.
Even if he was a Jonin rank by system standards, the system only looks at stats, not combat capabilities.