Ned snorted. "If I tried to ally with the Ironborn, half of the North would raise their banners in rebellion. And the Riverlands has no love for the reavers, either."
"Fair enough," I conceded. "Well, if we can't find allies in Westeros, perhaps we should seek closer relations with some of the Free Cities. We're already trading heavily with Braavos; Lorath and Pentos would welcome our trade as well. Plus, since they're not ruled by hereditary leaders, we would not be expected to offer betrothals. Merely good trade and pacts of mutual defense would suffice."
"Mutual defense?" Ned asked, confused. "You… want to turn them into vassals? Or, pledge the North as their vassals?"
"Heavens no!" I replied with a bright laugh. "If someone attacks our ally, we would swear to go to war to defend them, just as they would swear to go to war to defend us," I explained. "This would, obviously, not apply if either we or our ally started a war of aggression, but it would make war against the North a much more risky proposition than it currently is."
"Thus increasing our 'soft' power," Ned murmured.
"Exactly," I beamed at him, proud that he'd made the connection. Even if I was sort of leading him by the nose toward it. Ned was a good man and a good husband, but he wasn't the most politically astute outside the North. To his credit, he was great at maintaining good relations with his vassals, though.
"I will consider this," he sighed. "And maybe speak to Maester Luwin about it. And some of my vassals. And we should consider what your father would prefer as well."
"Of course," I agreed. "Just keep in mind, just because we pursue an alliance with one of the other Kingdoms doesn't mean we can't also ally with one or more of the Free Cities as well. Either way, whatever you decide, I'll help you make it happen."
Ned's face softened as he looked at me. "The best of wives and the best of women," he murmured.
"My lord!" An out-of-breath Luwin burst into our private dining room one morning early in the spring. "My lord, there's been an attack!"
"Where?" Ned demanded, dropping his fork and jumping up from his seat. "And by whom?"
"Bear Island, my lord," he replied, waving a letter at Ned. "It was the Ironborn!"
"Damn," Ned swore, despite the fact that our children were in the room. "How many ships? How many men?"
"Several thousand men, and at least fifty ships," the Maester answered. "Bear Island is being sacked as we speak, and the Mormont's keep is under siege. Deepwood Motte also sends word of another force of fifty ships pillaging their coast; they fear that they, too, will be under siege soon."
"Damn. Come with me, Luwin; we need to call the banners," Ned ordered. His long strides ate up the room until he was at the door, Luwin hot on his heels. "We need to send ravens to the other lords. And we need to inform the King…"
"Mama?" Robb asked, his face scrunched in worry and confusion. "What's 'calling the banners'?"
"Your father is going to ask the other lords of the North to gather their soldiers," I told him. "It seems we're going to war."
"Like in the stories?" he asked.
"Like in the stories," I half-lied. I knew that the songs, poems, and tales of war and heroes were, at best, sanitized and exaggerated for the audience. At worst, they were outright fabrications. Still, given his delicate age, I couldn't impress on him the horrors of war. That would have to wait until he was older.
"Is father going to go fight?" Jon asked, looking just as worried as Robb.
"That's right," I nodded. "He's going to gather his men, and with the help of the other lords, he'll push the reavers back into the sea where they came from."
"He can do it," Robb said with absolute certainty. "Father is strong; he'll definitely win!"
"Aye, that he will," I agreed with a weak smile. "Say, how would you like to come help me get your father's armor ready?"
"Yeah!" Robb and Jon chorused. Little Sansa, still only three years old, enthusiastically agreed as well.
And so, in a gaggle of excited shouting and giggling, I let my three children (and I included Jon as one of them by this point) lead me to the armory.
A sennight later saw a camp of some seven thousand troops just outside of Winterfell. Given the growth of Winter Town and the smallfolk villages near the castle, the levy had grown a fair bit since Robert's Rebellion, though two thousand of those camped outside Winterfell had come with Lord Cerwyn. While another three or four thousand could be called from House Stark's lands, the five thousand that had gathered were the ones that could be ready on short notice.
From the ravens that had been sent and received in the week since the first news had come, another ten or twelve thousand would be gathered by House Stark's closest vassals and ten thousand more would come from the Umber, Karstark, and Bolton lands. It was gratifying to know that twenty-seven thousand men could be raised so quickly by the North. With more time, another fifteen to twenty thousand could be levied and trained, though their equipment would be minimal, and if we scraped the bottom of the barrel, perhaps another seven thousand could be found on top of that. And that wasn't even counting the Mountain Clans' four or five thousand. The North's military might had grown since Robert's Rebellion, and I took satisfaction in the knowledge that my land grant idea was partially responsible for that.
Ned was resplendent in his brightly polished wolfs-head armor. Ice was solidly strapped to his back, and an arming sword hung from his waist. He wore a resplendent cape made of snow bear fur, with gray rabbit fur sewn in to create the Stark direwolf. A metal-faced kite shield was strapped to his saddle, also emblazoned with his coat of arms.
"You take care of yourself," I murmured, pulling him into a tight hug despite the hard armor. "Don't take any unnecessary risks, alright?"
"I'll be careful," he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.
"And if you can, try to capture some of their ships," I told him. "We'll need them if we want to invade the Iron Islands, and bolster our western Navy after the war."
"Yes, dear," he replied with a teasing tone.
I stepped back so that he could say goodbye to the children.
"Be safe, father," Robb said, his face set in a stern mask that was so much like Ned's it made my heart break.
"I will, son," he replied, kneeling down to pull the child into a hug.
"I'll miss you," Jon said, getting his own hug after Ned had released Robb.
"I'll miss you too."
"You're going to win, right?" Jon asked, turning his Stark gray eyes up to his father's face.
"Of course we will," Ned reassured him. "Those reavers are no match for the North on land."
"Good." After one final squeeze, Jon stepped back to my side and latched onto my hand like a drowning man grasping at flotsam to keep afloat.