Chapter 1: Sons of House Bolton

(600 words)

- Marlon Bolton POV -

- Dreadfort - The North - Westeros - 261 A.D. -

"They are twins!" cried Maester Bawin, who has served our house for as long as I can remember. A man of dark robes, thick beard, and eyes full of wisdom worthy of a Maester, who are the scholars of the Seven Kingdoms.

Men full of knowledge who record everything important that happens in the Houses of Westeros. And the Bawin, as our Maester, has that task. But he is also in charge of receiving the lord's sons, that is, my sons.

Who am I? I am Marlon Bolton, son of Balek Bolton. Lord of House Bolton and Lord of Dreadfort, belonging to The North, and standard bearer of House Stark.

Although that is only for now, because before the conquest, we were known as "Red Kings of The North" for being the only house with the power to rival House Stark, being Rogar, "The Hunter", Bolton, the last to wear a crown of blood on our head.

Now, though among the most powerful, we are nothing more than a subordinate house to House Stark, who in turn are subordinate to the crown. But that is not what is important. What is key at this moment is the birth of my children. Percival and Penuria Bolton, twins according to Bawin.

Though neither of them is the heir, as my firstborn, now only six years old, is Roose Bolton, future Lord of House Bolton and Lord of Dreadfort. And perhaps with a lot of luck... Future Warden of The North. A title right now held by the Starks, specifically Rickard Stark, the Lord of House Stark.

"Waaaa!" cried one of the babies, who was a girl specifically. But instead the child remained absolutely silent, which confused many people in the room we were in. Even to the point of worrying both the Maester and my wife, Margaret Bolton, formerly Margaret Karstark. Former member of House Karstark of Karhold, another Stark vassal in The North. Although the origins of this house are directly from the Starks, a line of the family that had no right to rule The North, created another house in honor of the place where it resided. Their banner is a white sun with a black background, hence their motto. "The Sun of the North."

I only hope that they will be strong and worthy heirs to our house. And that they are willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of it. Friends, honor, dignity and even life. This is how a Bolton lives, we do everything for our house, even betraying our closest friend, breaking all kinds of pacts and oaths. All for our home and our position.

But I trust at least one of my three sons to be something better than incompetent. Not that I have reached amazing heights, but I have served my house well. And because my name is Marlon Bolton, my children will do as well or better. They will.

"Look," Margaret said to me. 'Our marriage, like all nobility, was somewhat arranged. And I never had such a close relationship with her, but that changed when we had our first child. Our bond became closer and we could consider ourselves a family of sorts. She doesn't approve of the way I relate to Roose, though. She says I'm too harsh, but I have to, I have to raise him harshly if I don't want him to be devoured in a world of wolves, lions and dragons. Our world is cruel and we have to prepare our "cubs". It is my duty as a father.