Lord Varamyr, head of house Magnar, rode upon his massive, shaggy, white unicorn through brokewight town; just outside kingshouse castle. He felt a surge of power as he and his large rentinue rode up to the imposing castle walls.

At the head of his retinue, Lord Magnar's graceful steed trotted through the thick wodden gates and into the stone castle proper. It was the pride of his family as one of the few stronghlods of skagos. The ancestral castle and seat of power of House Magnar which served as the the seat of the Great Stone Kings for generations.

According to ancient lore, Kingshouse was a stronghold built due to the combined efforts of the Children of the Forest and giants. With the looming wall being crafted by the Giants and the castle towers by the Children themselves! It was later taken by the First Men ancestors of the Magnar line during the War of Children.

During the events of Long Night, the fortress repelled one thousand charges by the Others and their thralls.

His great ancestor, Osric Stoneborn rallied the cowering men and held the line against the Great Others for sometime. Through his valiant opposition, not a single Wight entered the keep, however, despite the strength of the castle, the men inside eventually succumbed to cold and starvation.

There was only one survivor, his great ancestor. It is said in the tales that when he felt he could bear the pain of hunger no longer, he charged out amidst the horde, armed with only a single black cave-stone dagger, battled the wights and broke their resolve by slaying a commander in single combat just outside the castle.

That was how cave-stone and the town outside the castle gained their names of Wightsbane and brokewight respectively.

After the battle, Osric rallied the giants, children, and surviving First Men of the land as his warriors and drove the Wights and their walking dead off the island. So valiant was he, that the masses crowned him as the King of Stone and Sea.

King Osric Stoneborn was said to have sired a son upon each of his three wives- each a woman of either the first men, giants and children of the forest. From their union came three Stoneborn sons.

Osric Stane, with the blood of giants, Osric Crowl, with the blood of the First Men, and Osric Magnar, with the blood of the Children. When the great Stoneborn died, his sons entered into a decade long war, after which his ancestor, Osric Magnar emerged as his successor, ruling from Kingshouse.

That was until the vile Starks and their weapons of iron and steel subjugated the Stoneborn millennia afterwards. The King Magnar at the time knelt to a Stark King at the gates of Kingshouse, and gave up his crown.

But even now, his house was still the greatest of all sakgos. All subsequent rebellions against the Starks were headed by House Magnar.

He sighed in exhaustion as he dismounted from his unicorn and handed the steed off to the stable boy who came up to him.

Varamyr crossed the courtyard and was greeted by the assembled men and women of his household.

"Lord Magnar, kingshouse is yers." His beautiful wife Igla stepped forward.

His eyes roamed over her. It had been weeks since he left to the mountain clans to broker alliences, attend weddings and claim his lordly right. While he enjoyed the weddings and particularly the pleasures First Night, his wife was still the most beautiful in all skagos with her strong figure and red hair. He stepped forward and embraced her before giving her a long kiss. He could feel the small bump from her belly.

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'With child yet again.....' He was glad to know his seed was taking root, however that meant she wouldn't be able to service him to the fullest extent in the future. Though it would be moons before it would be unsafe for her to do her wifely duties.

He moved from her to his son and ruffled the lad's hair, the boy had grown since he was gone.

He then grabbed up his little daughters and showered them with kisses. They giggled as his beard scrathed their faces.

"I hunger! Lets eat!" He shouted as they entered the castle.

'It's good ta' be lord.' He thought.

(-)

Later on that day, he sat in the great halls of his castle as petty chieftains and lowly smallfolk wondered in, telling him of their woes. It was tedious work but eventually he settled the issues one after the other.

It was then that a thin man wormed his way into the hall. The fellow looked wild and haggard. His face pale, his beard scraggy and tangled.

'Who let this creature into my halls?'

"L-lord Magnar!" The man shouted with his scratchy voice.

"Doom has landed on the land! I'm Chieftain Toredill of the styval clan! My people were butchered by Fire Wights and their foul creatures!"

Varamyr looked at the man. What jape was this? A chieftain? Looking like a broken mountain berserker? Beset by fire wights to boot? He almost laughed if the man wasn't wasting his time and defiling his halls with his presence

But before he could have the man thrown out and lashed, the wizened fellow began speaking.

"They came from black vessels and hurled fire at my people! I got out by the grace o' the gods to make it here to ye. I beg ye to gather yer men and charge against the great Others." The skinny man pleaded with him.

"Fire Wights? Are you mad? Did ya eat mad herbs in hunger?" He was ready to throw the mad man from his halls. Winters were always hard in these lands and many died with every one that came. Even after the passing of winter and into spring, many starved and some would go to any lengths to sate their hunger.

Some became wild men and attacked travellers or small villages to feast on their fellows. Some ate wild herbs and shrubs that sprouted underneath rocks or snow patches, succoming to poison and madness.

"M-My lord do ye not remember me? I was 'ere fer the summer festivals and ye was the one ta watch over my wedding two winters past!"

Varamyr thought the man a fool, even if he was who he said he was, there was no way he could remember the faces of every petty chieftain the met.

This man had no banners or riders with him. He seemed to be nothing but a raving fool- a mad fool!

It was then he looked closely at the man's face as he spoke of his wedding. It was gaunt and bearded but it had a certain look, as if the man hadn't shat in years. He loved that look, it was the look of some men who he wedded and then bedded their wives.

There were not many who would refute a lord's claim to first night, the few who did in ages past were put to the sword as dictated by the traditons of their people and laws of his house. Most accepted and felt honour to gift their wives over, but there was a small few who nought the courage to stop him, but felt wronged. They'd have stiff or sour expressions on their faces as he led their wives away.

The man's face looked so now, he could faintly remember but it was coming back to him. Of all the chieftains there was one who had a most amusing face when he took the man's wife to ravage.

"Ah! It's you!" He finally recognized the man!

The stuffed expression on the man's face faded to show a hopeful look, if he didn't want to get the whole thing over with, he'd have acted as if he didnt know the man for longer- the previous look on his face was too good to gander at.

"So ye claim a group of Fire Daemons set upon yer people, what proof do ye have? Ye want me to gather all my host and ride out on yer order with nothin' to show for it?"

A twisted look appeared on the man's face again, "I stand 'ere before ya Lord Magnar. As ye said, ya remember me a chieftian Why would I come to ya now looking like a mountain berserker? Without any o' my tribe?"

Varamyr had no words to refute the man. He didn't like the way the man spoke to him, but looking at how mad this cheif looked, the man seemed to have dashed away his fears long ago.

He couldn't brush off the man's claims too quickly now. This chieftain could be mad, but he knew the legends of old were true. If the there were truly Wights and the walking dead, he would need to defend his lands, much like the Stone kings of old.

He turned to one of the servants. "Take yer best unicorn, ride to Lowhenge an' fetch the white witch Ygga! Tell her I need 'er council now!"

The servant nodded and ran off.

"The witch'll be 'ere by noon or so. When she's 'ere you'll tell her of yer woes, while we wait, tell me of wot happen'in yer clan." Varamyr watched the man's gaunt face regain a bit of colour.

"T-t thank you milord!" He waved the man's thanks away.

"My lord, two moons ago, one o' my goat boys ran into my tent, telling me of strange, black hills on the sea......." The Stone lord shifted in this wooden throne as the man spun his tale.

After hearing the man, Varamyr left the hall for a break, leaving behind instructions for someone to house the mad chief and feed him some gruel.

On the other hand, he left to eat a heafty meal of mutton stew with rough bread and black beer. As he ate he recalled the fantastical tale he just heard. Fire wielding Wights descending from great black vessels, riding massive beasts...

Was the Long Night upon them yet again? After thousands of years? There were no Giants or Children of the forest left on the island anymore, what little of their blood still flowing through his veins was too weak. Would men alone be able to stop this threat?

As he said, by noon, he was informed the Woods Witch appeared upon her bony unicorn inside the walls of kingshouse keep. He sent for the mad chief the witch and the elders to meet him in the Great hall.