The crisp morning light filtered through the large windows of the train carriage as it sped through the Northern landscape. Today was the day. After a final breaking of the fast with the Starks – a meal less formal than dinner, but still substantial – Rhaenyra, Mordred, Elinda, and Sarisa found themselves once again on the metal serpent, hurtling towards Winterhold.
Mordred, surprisingly, seemed to relish the journey, leaning against the window and pointing out landmarks. "That's the White Knife," she'd say, indicating a rushing river, "our main source of fresh water for Wintercity. And over there,"
Elinda and Sarisa, still somewhat wide-eyed by the speed and comfort of the train, mostly listened, exchanging fascinated glances. My own thoughts were a whirlwind. Theon Stark's words still echoed in my mind – twice as hard, twice as cunning, twice the wisdom. And Mordred, the 'hurricane,' sitting beside me, seemed to embody the very spirit of this new, formidable North.
"So, what's Winterhold really like?" I finally asked Mordred, breaking a lull in the conversation. "Beyond what my father was told, or what we've seen from the sky."
Mordred turned, her grey eyes alight. "It's… not like a castle, Princess. It's a collection of buildings, all dedicated to learning and innovation. There are the great halls for lectures, of course, but then there are the workshops for engineers, the observatories for the stargazers, the botanical gardens where we learn about new crops and medicines. There's even a forge, where we learn about working with metals, and a library that's said to hold more scrolls than the Citadel." She spoke with an infectious enthusiasm, clearly proud of her Asgard's institution.
"Do all the students live there?" Elinda enquired.
"Aye," Mordred confirmed. "From the moment you're accepted, your quarters are assigned. We live and learn together. It fosters a sense of unity, of shared purpose. Plus, it's easier for the Scholars and Masters to oversee everything."
The train continued its relentless journey, the world outside a blur of winter-clad forests and vast, silent plains. After what felt like a remarkably short time, the train began to slow, the rhythmic clatter easing into a gentle rumble.
"We're here," Mordred announced, rising.
The train pulled into another station, smaller than Wintercity's, but just as meticulously constructed. As we stepped onto the platform, the air felt even crisper, infused with the scent of pine and something else – a subtle, almost academic smell, like old parchment and something faintly metallic.
Before us stood a collection of impressive, utilitarian buildings, built of the same dark, polished stone as Wintercity. They were not ornate, but powerfully functional, designed for purpose rather than display. Far in the distance, I could see the ancient weirwood grove that Theon Stark had mentioned, a dark, solemn presence amidst the newer structures.
A group of figures stood waiting on the platform. They were clearly the Scholars and Masters of Winterhold College. At their head was an older woman, her face intelligent and kind, yet firm. This was likely the head of the College.
The woman stepped forward, her gaze first settling on Mordred, a warm smile gracing her lips. "Welcome, Princess Mordred," she said, her voice clear and precise. "We trust your journey was well."
Mordred gave a respectful bow. "It was, Dean. Thank you."
Then the woman turned her gaze to me, her expression shifting to one of respectful welcome. "And welcome, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. I am Master Linda Ashwood, the Dean of Winterhold. We are honored by your presence."
I curtsied, acknowledging her.
"Today," Dean Linda Ashwood continued, her gaze encompassing all new arrivals, "we will be giving you an introduction to all the facilities here at Winterhold. You will see where you will study, where you will dine, and where you will grow. Following the introductions, we will assign your quarters. These will be your homes until your education is complete here at Winterhold. We expect dedication, diligence, and a keen mind from all our students."
She turned, gesturing towards the entrance of the largest building. "Now, if you would follow me, ladies. Your journey of true learning begins today."
My heart quickened. This was it. The place where the North's secrets of advancement truly resided. This was where I was meant to become the queen my father desired, the queen Theon Stark believed I needed to be. The weight of expectation settled upon my shoulders, but for the first time, it was mingled with genuine excitement.
Dean Linda Ashwood led us into the grand main hall of Winterhold College, a place of impressive proportions yet devoid of the gilded excess of the Red Keep. Instead, its grandeur stemmed from its sheer functionality and the quiet dignity of knowledge. Our first stop was the dining hall, a spacious chamber filled with long, sturdy tables. The air hummed with the quiet chatter of students and scholars, and the familiar glow of light bulbs illuminated every corner. The meal, though simple fare of hearty stew, fresh bread, and crisp vegetables, was warm and plentiful, a stark contrast to the sometimes meager offerings of the capital.
After the meal, a tall, gaunt man with an intense gaze and a scholar's robe, whom Dean Ashwood introduced as Master Borin, Head of Logistics and Facilities, took over our tour. He spoke with a precise, measured cadence, clearly proud of the institution.
"Welcome to Winterhold, Princesses, and to all new students," Master Borin began. "This College is designed to foster learning and innovation in every field. Our facilities are built for that purpose."
He first led us to the Central Library, a towering edifice that seemed to hold endless rows of scrolls and books. Unlike the dusty, often neglected libraries of the South, this one was vibrant, filled with students poring over texts, and scribes meticulously copying new works. The silence was palpable, broken only by the rustle of parchment and the faint scratching of quills.
"Here," Master Borin explained, "you will find the collected knowledge of the North, and indeed, much of what we have gathered from the wider world. It is a living library, constantly growing."
Next, we were taken to the Engineering Workshops. The air here hummed with a different energy – the clang of metal, the hiss of steam, the whirring of intricate mechanisms. Students, some no older than myself, worked with focused intensity on complex contraptions. I saw curious devices that looked like small, intricate clocks, and others that seemed to harness power from thin air.
"This is where our engineers refine existing technologies and forge new ones," Master Borin said, gesturing to a massive, polished engine that gleamed under the light bulbs. "From the light bulbs that illuminate our homes to the trains that traverse our lands, much begins here."
We then visited the Botanical Gardens, an immense glass-domed structure that held a surprising array of plants, some familiar, others alien and vibrant even in the depths of winter. Here, scholars carefully tended to various flora, experimenting with new crops and studying the medicinal properties of plants. The air was warm and humid, a welcome respite from the Northern chill.
"The study of life itself is crucial," Master Borin stated. "Understanding our lands, our resources, and how to sustain our people in health and abundance. These are vital for a strong kingdom."
Our tour continued through various lecture halls, vast chambers equipped with strange projection devices that could display diagrams on walls, far beyond the crude chalk drawings of King's Landing. We saw laboratories filled with bubbling flasks and glowing instruments, and observatories equipped with powerful telescopes that could apparently bring the very stars closer.
"And now," Master Borin announced as we approached a series of expansive, open-air fields, "for those aspects of learning crucial to leadership and defense."
He led us first to the Training Grounds. Here, young men and women, clad in practical leather and mail, sparred with wooden swords, practiced archery, and drilled in formation. Their movements were precise, their discipline evident. Unlike the individualized jousts of the South, this was practical, coordinated martial training.
"Every student, regardless of their intended profession, receives basic training in self-defense and tactical movement," Master Borin explained. "It is fundamental to understanding discipline and the realities of conflict."
Finally, we were brought to the War Rooms. These were not dusty chambers filled with ancient maps, but sleek, modern spaces. One massive table in the center held a meticulously crafted, three-dimensional relief map of the entire Westeros, marked with tiny, colored flags and glowing indicators. Several students and masters were gathered around it, discussing troop movements and supply lines.
"Here, our strategists and future military leaders study past conflicts and plan for future contingencies," Master Borin said. "We use sophisticated mapping techniques and simulations to understand the movement of armies, the logistics of supply, and the most effective defensive and offensive maneuvers. A true leader must understand the battlefield, even if they never step upon it themselves."
The tour concluded back in the main hall. Master Borin clapped his hands once, drawing our attention.
"Your quarters have been assigned, and your luggage has already been sent to your respective rooms," he announced. "You will find your schedules for the next three days, leading up to the commencement of classes, in your rooms. Rest well, for tomorrow, your true studies begin."
He gave a polite nod, and then the students began to disperse. I exchanged a glance with Elinda and Sarisa. Our minds were reeling from the sheer scale and ingenuity of Winterhold. This was not merely a school; it was a forge for a new kind of kingdom. My education here, I realized with a mix of trepidation and burgeoning excitement, was going to be unlike anything I could have ever imagined.
The next three days at Winterhold College were a blur of new experiences. Our quarters were comfortable and efficient, just as promised, and our luggage had indeed arrived, neatly placed. Each morning, after a wholesome breakfast in the bustling dining hall, we consulted our personalized schedules, printed on crisp, durable paper – another small marvel of Northern engineering.
The first few lessons were in what the Masters called "Foundations of Governance." This involved long hours in lecture halls, listening to Masters expound on economic principles, legal precedents, and the history of Asgard's political development.
"The concept of shared resources and managed distribution ensures stability during lean years," Master Thane, a severe but brilliant woman with spectacles, explained, gesturing to complex diagrams projected onto the wall. "Unlike systems reliant solely on individual lordly stores, our integrated granaries and trade networks prevent localized famine and price gouging."
I found myself absorbing it all with a diligence born of both duty and genuine curiosity. I took copious notes, my quill scratching across the paper, trying to commit every detail to memory. Elinda, ever the diligent companion, mirrored my efforts, occasionally whispering a question or clarification. Sarisa, while initially overwhelmed, was also surprisingly attentive, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Mordred, however, was a different story.
During the lectures, she would sit beside me, initially attentive, but within minutes, her restless energy would become palpable. Her foot would tap a silent rhythm against the floor, her fingers would drum against the table, or she would doodle intricate, wolf-like patterns in the margins of her notes. When Master Thane launched into a lengthy explanation of tax redistribution, Mordred finally groaned softly beside me.
"Is this truly necessary?" she whispered, nudging my arm. "When will we get to the real lessons? The ones where we actually do something?"
I stifled a sigh. "This is real, Mordred. Understanding how a kingdom funds itself, how resources are allocated – it's crucial for a ruler."
"But it's so dry," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I'd rather be sparring than listening to sums."
Her true engagement only sparked when the lessons shifted from theoretical to practical. In our "Tactical Strategy" class, instead of merely discussing historical battles, Master Brennus laid out vast, detailed sand tables. "Princess, Mordred," he commanded, "you are leading the combined forces of House Karstark and House Umber. The enemy has seized the crossing at the Last Hearth. Outline your strategy to retake it, considering terrain, supply lines, and potential enemy reinforcements."
Here, Mordred came alive. She immediately crouched over the sand table, her fingers tracing lines in the sand, her mind clearly visualizing the terrain. "We send a diversionary force along the river, feigning a direct assault," she began, her voice confident. "Meanwhile, a smaller, highly mobile force, perhaps mounted archers, circles through the Kingswood to hit their flank. The main body pushes through the central pass, forcing them into a pincer."
Her strategic thinking was sharp, intuitive. I, coming from a world of grand pronouncements and knightly charges, found myself impressed, and slightly humbled. My own strategies were more focused on dragonfire and numerical superiority.
"A sound plan, Mordred," Master Brennus commended. "But consider the enemy's potential reaction to the flanking maneuver. How do you prevent them from collapsing their center and crushing your river force?"
"We feign a retreat with the river force," Mordred quickly countered, "drawing them out, while the flankers are ready to strike."
Even in the "Science of Materials" class, where we learned about the properties of various metals and composites, Mordred's attention would wander during the lectures, only to snap back when Master Lyra would demonstrate how to forge a particular alloy, or how to test its tensile strength.
"This is much better," Mordred declared, eyes alight, as Master Lyra heated a bar of steel until it glowed cherry red. "Knowing why the steel holds is good, but knowing how to make it hold is essential."
Elinda and Sarisa, while less overtly bored than Mordred during the lectures, still found their greatest interest sparked by the practical demonstrations. Elinda was particularly fascinated by the medical lessons, where we learned about Northern herbal remedies and basic wound care, far more advanced than anything commonly taught to Southern ladies. Sarisa, to my surprise, showed a knack for understanding simple mechanics, always eager to examine the inner workings of the College's various devices.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the polished stone floors, we finally concluded our day's classes. My mind was buzzing, a fascinating blend of theoretical knowledge and hands-on observation. Mordred, looking far more energized than she had that morning, walked beside me, whistling a jaunty Northern tune.
"So, Princess," she asked, nudging me playfully, "did any of it finally bore you senseless, or do you think you can stomach another day of understanding the allocation of resources?"
I smirked. "It was... illuminating, Mordred. Though I admit, your enthusiasm for practical applications is... considerable."
She grinned. "What's the point of learning if you can't actually do anything with it?"
It was a question I had never truly considered in King's Landing. There, knowledge often felt like a decoration, a means to win arguments or impress. Here, it was clearly a tool, a means to build. And I was beginning to understand that difference.