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Here be Dragons by fadedaura
Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: M, English, Fantasy & Drama, Percy J., Silena B., C. Beckendorf, Zoë N., Words: 176k+, Favs: 2k+, Follows: 2k+, Published: Jan 28, 2018 Updated: May 28, 2018
754Chapter 3
AN
Thank you for the support and he reviews.
To answer some of the questions
1) This is an alternate universe where rules of physics are different from the ones we know. Planets can be as large as they want because the Universal Gravitational constant is different in this universe.
2) Some runes that work in our world would not work in theirs.
3)To find out about their abilities continue to follow the story ;)
ENJOY
Rickard Stark, the Lord Paramount of Winterfell, the guardian of the North paced nervously in front of the thick oaken door that led to the birthing chamber of the mighty fortress of Winterfell. His subjects addressed him as the 'massive wolf' due to his larger than normal physique. The 'wolf' part of his title came from the sigil of the Stark family, which was a great grey direwolf, a family which had had ruled the First Men of the North for more than eight millennia.
It had been almost four hours since his wife Lyarra went inside the chamber after her water broke. His good-sister Branda was inside with his wife with four midwives from different houses that held titles under his. For the first time since the Order of Maesters became prominent, the maester of Winterfell wasn't the one who was assisting during the birth of his children. Maester Walys had been reduced to a role of an observer on his orders.
The reason he had begun to question Walys was a whole different story which involved deception and spying on the maester's part.
He had several reasons to be nervous. For one this was the birth if his heir. He and Lyarra had been trying for more than two years without success before she was gifted with a child. He wanted this to be a success. He wanted the child to be healthy and its mother to be fine after the birth.
'Or births,' he thought nervously as he kept running what 'she' had whispered to him.
It was rare to have multiple births at the same time in the North or any of the Westerosi noble houses for that matter. Such births were viewed as auspicious, especially because northerners believed it to be a sign from the old gods who were bestowing the family with prosperity. Each time twins had been born in the past that particular family had risen exponentially and their birth was viewed as an omen for a great change. Throughout the written history of the Starks which spanned for more than eight thousand years, there were only four instances where twins had graced their family. And each time, they had vaulted their family to greater heights or had circumvented events that had conspired to bring the Starks to their knees.
He hadn't told his wife, but he knew that he and Lyarra were having triplets; two boys and a girl. This was the first time such an event was going to happen in his family. So he wanted the births to be historic. That was the reason why he had even considered sending Walys inside the chamber. If he had his way, the maester would be packing his bags and heading back to the Citadel in disgrace or rotting in the famed cold and desolate dungeons of Winterfell.
He had kept his inquiries subtle ever since he had the vision. So the Reach-born maester didn't even know that his liege lord was on to him. The maester went on his duties like in the past, but Rickard had seen fit to have one of his trusted men following him all the time under different guises. Most often it was under the guise of learning from the maester. Slowly but surely, a picture was being painted and it didn't bode well for the Starks should those plans continued unimpeded
It wasn't just the births… he had the situation on the whole Northern Realm to consider.
"It's no use fretting, my Lord. Everything will be fine," Mark Ryswell broke Rickard out of his frenzied pacing.
Rickard slowed down to a halt and sighed as he ran his hand through his thick mane. His face looked haggard and you could already see the bags forming under his eyes. He hadn't had much rest during these final days of Lyarra's pregnancy.
"I know it will be fine… but I can't help but be nervous," he said to Mark.
"Come sit here my Lord. I have already informed a servant to bring some wine. It will calm you down. You must not look so disheveled when you are to meet your first born child, no?"
Rickard smiled at the boy and sat down in the seat prepared.
Mark was a boy of two and ten name days. He was born to an offshoot of the Ryswell family which oversaw the Rills whose parents had passed away due to a plague. Because of his hard working nature, Rickard enlisted him to be the first of the handpicked teens that Rickard had thought to train. Mark was hardworking and competent in his work. That was why he had given him some sensitive instructions to carry out without giving them to his trusted men. One such was to shadow maester Walys. Under the ruse of learning all he could about Westeros, Mark poked around Walys' dealings and reported them back to Rickard.
Being one of the Ryswells was another point that was in favor of Mark to rise to the position he held. The Hose Lords of the Rills were one of his most trusted bannermen, with the current Lord Rodrick being a close and personal friend of Rickard.
The servant came with a flagon of wine and Mark immediately poured a mug for him and handed it over. Rickard gulped the whole thing down and thrust the glass back to the boy for seconds.
"You need to slow yourself down, my Lord. I don't think Lady Lyarra would hand over your child should you enter the room drunk," Mark immediately declined to hand him another glass.
Rickard glared at him slightly but the boy grinned cheekily back. He was forced to look away because he knew it was true. And he couldn't blame the boy for being cheeky about it. Mark knew that he loved him like one of his own.
It wasn't a secret that he was whipped. True, his father had arranged a marriage between him and Lyarra even before they were born. But the moment he met Lyarra, his cousin once removed, they were in love. By the time they were teens, Lyarra had him running around the North for various tasks. Most of them were to bring back mementos or to escort her to see sights that peaked her interest. It wasn't always that an arranged marriage turn out to be wonderful as theirs. And he did all he could to keep his wife happy as did she. Each and every night she whispered that he was her everything. That was all he needed to be strong for both of them and protect her with all he had.
One thing his wife detested with vehemence was the 'Drunk Rickard.' She detested it so badly that in every occasion he came home drunk, he had to sleep on a bench outside their room. They had fought several times in the past as she had humiliated the Warden of the North in front of his own men to which she had always replied that if he didn't want to be humiliated, he shouldn't return home drunk. Over the years his fondness of alcohol had diminished greatly and these days he only had an occasional sip of wine during celebrations or a large swig during mind wracking situations such as the one at hand.
Mark was correct on one thing though. Had he entered the room drunk, not only would he have not been able to hold his child, he would also have been thrown out of the room. Lyarra was feisty in that way, which was another thing he adored about her. She was like a wildling from beyond the wall. She didn't heed anybody but herself. Once she fixed her mind on something nobody could deter her.
Rickard often joked that this was the reason why her father had given her away so quickly to which she always glared.
He patted Mark on the head and leaned back on his seat to relax until he was given leave by his wife to enter the room. He didn't want to be denied entry because it was his nervous pacing and muttering that drove his wife to throw him out of the room in the first place. The seat wasn't comfortable. But his tiredness had him drifting on and off from sleep.
"… teach them… trust them…. for one day they will retake their birthright from the dragon tamers of the south… the Winter Kings will rule the North once again..."
As soon as he closed his eyes, the message that had been haunting him since that fateful day echoed in his mind. The voice was nothing but a whisper. But he could tell that it belonged to a female. And the tone of the voice was so soothing and hauntingly beautiful that it made one want to trust it implacably. He was pretty sure it was one of the old gods that spoke to him because it happened during his morning ritual of worshipping the Heart Tree in the weirwood.
Since the dawn of the ages, there were only a handful occasions when the old gods contacted the First Men. They usually did that through a greenseer. Greenseers were considered legends and mere fabrications since the Andals invaded Westeros and started to spread their Faith of the Seven. Anything and everything that stood as an obstacle for spreading their beliefs and faith were destroyed. The Northern Kingdom was lucky that none of the Andal culture spread up from the neck. Even today, more than three hundred years after Aegon of House Targaryen united the Seven Kingdoms, the North still held onto its endemic culture rather than adopting the values of the Andals like other Houses of the First Men had done so in the south. This was one of the main reasons the Northerners disdained the Southerners for they were seen as betrayers and destroyers of the natural order.
There were only a couple of Houses that followed the Faith of the Seven in the North. Since his vision Rickard had decided to keep a close eye on them.
Rickard had heard rumors about greenseers living beyond the wall from the wildlings that invade his land during the winter. It was another thing he wanted to investigate since he was touched by the gods. Only his wife knew that their gods contacted him but Rickard had not filled her with any details of the encounter. Some of the things he saw of the possible future were disturbing. He saw his house almost die out because of his actions. To be honest, it all started to go downhill because of a disobedient child. He wanted to change that to avoid that particular fate. The goddess had told him that his children would turn things around, but he wanted to lay a foundation for them from which they could work on.
But doing things out of the norm would immediately enter the notice of Varys, the eunuch spymaster the mad king kept at his side. Then there were Nobles like the Boltons, who were waiting for the chance to facilitate the destruction of his family. The patriarch of the Boltons was a shrewd man who preyed upon every single opportunity that passed his way.
He already had other plans drawn up. But that required time and careful implementations. But the most urgent thing he had to do was to sniff the spies out of his land. He was currently at a loss on this front though he did manage to capture a few rats within his walls with the help of the teens under his care. These rats originated from various places. Mostly they belonged to three parties. One faction belonged to the mad king's lapdog. The other two belonged to the hateful Tywin Lannister and the shrew Queen of Thorns. But Rickard was certain that he had yet to find all of them.
One thing he had begun slowly was to recruit talented young men to his side. He already had his trusted servants combing through the north in order to gather all the talent they could find secretly. He planned to use the Tumbledown Tower within the Wolfswood as a gathering place for these youths. The tower was isolated and nobody went there unless it was on purpose. For that he wanted to renovate the tower and build a settlement around it, like the one he had seen in the vision. He had already sent several trusted men to Essos to recruit master builders, smiths and other professions to enter his service in addition to the ones that were already present. He knew that it would take more than five years for him to gather these men, but he wasn't in a hurry. Foundations needed to be firm and sturdy rather than hasty.
Mark was one of the first recruits that entered his service. He had seen the diligent boy during one of his visits to Winterfell. He had sent for him once he got the idea of building a power base his children could rely upon in the future. All powerful leaders needed their own trustworthy followers. Rickard wanted to establish the group so his children could utilize them without any problems. The recruits came from various places. Some were children of nobles who weren't in-line to inherit anything from their parents. Some were commoners. It didn't matter where they originated from if they had talent.
For now they were being trained in the art of war, philosophy, governance, etc.
It wasn't just them, masters of various professions were given the order to train the younger generation not just their families. By the time his children reached maturity, there would be many skilled workers waiting for their orders.
And that led him to the vision he got from the old gods. The vision came to him almost eight months ago. And it changed all the things he had in mind for his kingdom and the direction he had took an abrupt turnaround. It was this vision that made him vary of his maester and the dangers the spies and foreign agents in his land posed to the North and his family. It all started in one cold spring morning.
FLASHBACK
Rickard Stark sat on the stone bench in front of the Heart Tree facing the black pond of the ancient weirwood grove that grew inside the Winterfell castle running the whetstone over Ice, the Stark family's Valyrian steel blade. This was a ritual he followed every single day before heading out for his duties. He had picked this up from his father who had picked it up from his father. Nobody knew when this ritual originated, but its history was old as the Starks themselves.
Actually this repetitive task calmed Rickard's mind and helped him to organize his thoughts. There was a lot going on these days since the winter had ended and he desperately needed some time on his own.
The winter this time had been brutal. It lasted more than half a year. Because of his prudent planning they were able to escape outright starvation. But hearing about the death toll from the various regions in the North deepened the pit of despair he felt about his kingdom.
The North was the largest of the seven kingdoms. Its size dwarfed the land mass of all other kingdoms combined. It had natural defenses that made it neigh impossible for foreign occupation. But it all came at a cost. Most of his kingdom was covered in hills and forests. That was not counting the time his kingdom was blanketed with a thick layer of snow that refused to melt for months. The little food they grew near the Neck wasn't able to sustain the population of the massive kingdom and the glass houses within Winterfell were just enough to feed the castle. Sure they could utilize the lands surrounding the Rills all the way to the White Harbor for farming, but to prepare the land for that task was a massive undertaking.
It hadn't been like that in the past. Before the Targaryen conquests, his people were self sufficient. They had faced many adversaries like the Ironborn invaders, wildlings, smugglers. But they were able to persevere. Even the Andal kings that conquered much of the continent wasted before their defenses at Moat Cailin. The Targaryens in their wisdom had seen to it that the North be depended on the south for food. It was their way of ensuring that the North stayed loyal to them. This decision had caused the north to the dire situation they were currently facing. That is why King Torrhen Stark was cursed even to this day by people who longed for an independent North. It was also why a massive amount of warriors left the North to Essos, as they couldn't bear to see the once mighty kingdom downtrodden like this.
The primary exports of the North were wood and a small amount of iron and copper. The income from these exports just able to cover for the amount of food they required, especially due to the fact that the northern lords stored the grain in large amounts just in case. They were not able to afford more than that unless they wanted to be in debt to the Iron Throne in King's Landing or the Iron Bank of Braavos or exporting more materials.
Owing debt to both of these institutions was like slipping a noose through your own necks and the northerners who relished their freedom opposes this notion vehemently every time a Northern Lord brings it up. So they had to make do with what they had. The only benefit because of this equilateral trade was that the North had to pay taxes that were almost hundreds of time smaller than what other kingdoms paid. The taxes Rickard had to pay to the king annually were almost negligible. This was the reason the southerners thought that the Northern Kingdom was nothing but dead weight.
It was a policy King Torrhen Stark also known as the King who knelt or the Last Northern King devised to keep the Northern wealth out of the southerners' pockets. In the agreement Torrhen drew with Aegon Targaryen, it was stipulated that the north was free to handle its wealth as it saw fit and only had to pay taxes on what the Northern Lords earned as profits through foreign trade. By keeping their profits minimal and off records, the North was virtually tax free. There had been many movements within the King's Court to change this policy that the North adhered to, but they were unable to do anything about it since it was this agreement that kept the North as a part of the seven kingdoms. It was important now more than ever since the Targaryen power had waned with the deaths of their dragons.
The North was rich in resources. For one, Rickard knew that there were gold ores in the Lonely Hills that rivaled the ones that propelled the Lannisters to their fame. Not just gold, silver and other metals were abundant in his kingdom. But just as his ancestor decreed three hundred years ago, he kept these ores from coming to the surface. Most of the Lords under him didn't even know how rich their lands were because his family went to great lengths to bury this information. The ones that knew kept their mouths shut because they knew it wouldn't be good for them to anger the Starks. They all knew that the sweetened offers the southerners gave were poisonous.
Till the time comes when their families can benefit from these ores without outside influences, they would keep this secret within their families.
In Torrhen's journal, his final wish was for the Starks to rise again and rule their ancestral lands without fearing dragons or any other mystical beasts. Torrhen foresaw that the dragons the Targaryens had under them would one day perish enabling his dream to come to fruition.
Much like he predicted, today the dragons were nothing but a memory of the past. But the kings on the Iron throne kept his eyes and ears everywhere so that their kingdom wasn't splintered. It was still not understood clearly just why Torrhen Stark complied with Aegon Targaryen. From all what Rickard knew of his infamous ancestor, the Stark king wanted nothing but freedom of his people and their prosperity. He hated the fact that they would leave their fates on the hands of outsiders.
Since the Dance of the Dragons and the subsequent demise of the dragons, the Targaryens used wildfire as a deterrent against uprisings that sprung up from time to time. Wildfire was an alchemical substance that burned hotter than any other fire and kept burning until the fuel source ran out. Rickard had firsthand experience on how dangerous the substance was since the Mad King kept burning his opposition with the stuff. It was almost a usual occurrence down at King's Landing.
Rickard shook his head to get his thoughts in line as they were going off in a tangent.
He had planning to do to keep his kingdom together for the upcoming seasons. It didn't matter that the winter had just ended. As the Stark saying went the winter was coming. And it always is. One thing he noticed during these past years was that the seasons kept getting bigger and bigger. The winter before this one had only lasted about four months. The one before that was about three and a half. The one that just ended was five and a half.
It the trend continued, the next winter would last almost seven months. And that was his generous guess. Gods forbid it lasting longer than that. He shuddered when a stray thought of an upcoming Long Night came to his mind. The southerners may think of that even as a myth, but he knew that deep down there was some truth behind that story. He knew not whether there were armies of the dead amassing beyond the wall, but something happened that brought the whole continent together and made his forefather raise the seven hundred feet wall north of his kingdom with the help of the fabled Children of the Forest. They don't just go building structures like the wall just to keep the wildlings out. Something was out there. Whether it was just a myth or a legend was anyone's guess.
He needed a clear course of action that would enable him to acquire food without much hassle. The Tyrells were a demanding bunch and always had an eye out to expand their influence much like they did when Aegon began his conquest three hundred years ago. A minor family went from almost being demoted from their noble hood to being the House of the Lord Paramount of the Reach. They butchered their liege lords and took control of the most fertile kingdom of all. Even today they thirsted to expand their influence and get more coins in their coffers.
Luckily the Targaryens knew of their intentions and they were denied a chance to be related to the throne.
The current source of food for the North was the Reach. But each cycle they wanted more when the Starks wanted to increase their demand for food. Last time the Lord Tyrell demanded that one of his sons to be married to one of his future children. Rickard wanted nothing to do with that. In fact if he had any daughters in the future, he would certainly not give them to any Southerner. But now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place on that front.
The other kingdoms that he could go for were the Riverlands, Stormlands and the Westerlands. He would eat his own shit that go and make toast with Tywin and Tytos Lannister. He didn't see eye to eye with the bastard because of many reasons. One was that the man had found that the North was rich in gold and wanted to enter a partnership with the Starks for it. Too bad he had no idea where the ores were located in the North. The other reason was that one of his vassals provided sanctuary to the Reyne heir after he fled his home before the massacre of his family. The traditions of the north forbade them to hand over a man requesting sanctuary if they were in the right. But the Lannister had spat on their customs and demanded the boy's head.
Rickard made sure the boy reached Essos and build his influence before returning home. Tywin had gone to the King and demanded Rickard to bring the young Reyne. But it was too late since the boy had already left Westeros and out of his sphere of influence. The two families had been at odds with each other ever since, both him and Tywin never seeing eye to eye.
Stormlands were out too since they were the main supplier of food to King Landing. Their excess was traded with Dorne and the Vale. Any treaty with them would come with excess stipulations since Steffon Baratheon was the cousin of the Mad King.
That left the Riverlands. Hoster Tully was similar to Mace Tyrell. He was another Lord vying to expand his sphere of influence. There were obstructions in every way he looked.
Walys, his maester wanted for him to join one of his children, especially the one that was to inherit his seat after him to one of the southern Lords to gain access to their food stock ever since he found out his wife was pregnant with his heir. He didn't want to pursue this path, but it was the only option left for him at hand. But he was NOT going to partner with the Tyrells no matter what Walys said.
This was the reason why he felt like he was drowning in indecision. On one hand it was his sworn duty to provide for his people and keep them fed in the days to come. But on the other hand he didn't want southerners having claim to his seat at Winterfell. It was a long tradition that only the blood of the first men to grace the weirwood throne at Winterfell. He wasn't sure how he felt on being the one to break the tradition since none of the houses with the blood of the first men had a major seat in their respective kingdoms. Even if they did, they were tainted with Andal blood his ancestors had tried so hard to keep south of the neck.
It was not that he had anything with the andals… it was that they had come to their lands and forcibly destroyed their culture and desecrated their holy sites. Even the disappearance of the Children of the Forest could be blamed on them because of their wanton acts of destruction and murder.
He sighed and placed his sword down by the pond. Sitting on the stone bench, he leaned forward to see his reflection on the waters of the Black Pond. He could already see lines forming in his face. He was not even thirty, but he could see some white amongst the pitch black strands on his head. It was during these times he truly understood the burden of looking after a kingdom. His father tried to hammer it to his head, but he just ignored it like many other lessons. He truly wished his father was by his side now to provide him with wisdom seeing that he was at a crossroad.
He knelt by the pool facing the Heart Tree and brought his hands together in a prayer. He whispered every trouble, every doubt and indecision to the stern face that was bleeding red tears slowly and imagine the wizened face coming alive and giving him advice. It was a thing his father had told him to do in a situation like this.
He wasn't sure whether the Old Gods were real, he didn't even know whether they heard his prayer but had decided to ignore him like they had done for over seven millennia… but the notion that a higher power being aware of his plight eased his tension a little. He didn't want answers or guidance from them. All he wanted was a little moment that he wasn't burdened with all these troubles, a single moment of quietness.
Rickard felt his eyes grow heavy slowly. Even though he had just gotten up for the new day, he was feeling drowsy like he had been fighting for two full days against the wildling raiders. It was a struggle to keep his conscious about. It was a losing battle and he lost slowly falling into a deep trance.
To an outsider coming to the location, Rickard was seen just closing his eyes and praying to the tree.
Rickard didn't know what happened but scenes started to flash in front of his eyes rapidly. He couldn't even get a bearing of where he was. He was sure he was still by the Heart Tree, but also wasn't. He remembered falling into a trance like state yet he was not, seeing that he was fully aware of himself unlike in a dream.
The scenes started to pass by rapidly. It was as if he was seeing his life from another perspective.
He saw he agreed with Hoster Tully and engaged his son with his first born daughter. He gained the food he needed through this agreement.
Scenes continued by. Some were crystal clear. But some were fuzzy. It was as if someone was telling that he was to pay attention to these scenes and take them into heart according to their clarity. He was gently nudged into compliance to see through these images until the end without any disturbances.
He saw his children grow up.
In another agreement that was drawn by Walys, he sent his second born to the Arryns in the Vale for fostering despite his reluctance.
He saw his second-born befriend the first born of the Barratheons.
Time lapsed.
He saw his wife pass away during the birth of his youngest. The incident seemed to estrange the family a bit.
Due to the closeness of the Barratheon heir and his son, Walys made him draw another engagement between his daughter and the despicable man despite his daughter's anger.
Then the Tourney of Harrenhal passed by his eyes.
His daughter dresses as a knight bested all Frey knights and earned infamy. The Silver prince found it out and the result was devastating. The Prince handed the rose to his daughter over his wife of the Martell family and tricked her with song and promise.
He kidnapped his daughter and frisked her away to Dorne.
His first born son mad at the Prince's treachery within his home wet down to King's Landing ad demanded the King to return his sister. He was captured and tortured while Rickard himself was summoned as an accomplice to the 'rebellion against the crown'. When he went there he was convicted as a criminal and forced to fight wildfire.
He watched with horror as he was burnt to death followed by his son.
His second-born called the banners and along with the Baratheon they stormed the seven kingdoms and threw down the Targaryen dynasty.
His daughter passed away due to the trauma of unattended childbirth.
The Barratheon claimed the throne. Under him various crimes took place and the kingdoms declined.
The next scenes were very fast. He only gained a glimpse of it.
From what he saw, his family was reduced to three; the child of his daughter and the Targaryen and the two youngest of his second born son's children. Even his third-born son died during an expedition beyond the wall since he took the black.
The scenes in between were not clear. But what he gained was the Seven Kingdoms were going to face various upheavals and the mounds of death will soar to the sky.
Then it all stopped. Everything became still. The last scene he saw frozen before him and it gradually disappeared if it was a paper set on fire.
His surroundings became dark as the night. It was so quiet that he could hear the blood flowing I his veins. The sound of his heart was too loud for him to bear. He waited in shocked silence trying to comprehend what he saw. From what he saw, he was the reason for the downfall of his family. He caused a legacy of eight millennia to vanish within decades.
He thought himself as someone who thought things through and manipulated others into the positions he wanted without them knowing. But instead he was being manipulated by outside forces to see to the destruction of his family.
The silence around him was unbearable with these haunting thoughts running through his mind.
In this darkness a white light seemed to glide towards him. It stopped about ten feet away.
It was the size of a melon and floated at the height of his chest. Rickard felt small in its presence. It looked insignificant but its aura was so majestic that it felt like he was in the presence of a hundred dragons. Every time the sphere flared, it became difficult to breathe. He was nothing but an insignificant ant to the being in front of him.
"Rickard of House Stark… child of Brandon the Builder… Lord of the First Men… the high gods have decided to grant you a gift…" The words were soft like music, flowing through his being making him feel reverence and compliance to the entity. They were slow and deliberate. Each word was paused as if to induce more power.
Rickard couldn't believe what was happening to him. After thousands of years, the Old Gods had decided to answer their prayers. He was filled with elation after the gut wrenching revelations he saw one after the other. It didn't matter whether the gift was of any value. Now that he knew the course of history, he could take action to avoid disastrous situations. That was a gift in itself.
Rickard tried to speak, but his body didn't respond. His whole being was frozen in front of this entity. It was a shame because he had so many questions.
"Your heart is pure… you, your kin and our land will face much hardship in the future… an elder god has decided to bestow you with a champion to weather theses storms… teach them… trust them… for one day they will retake their birthright from the dragon tamers of the south… the Winter Kings will rule the North once again...go now… heed our warnings."
With that the while orb started to gradually disappear, with that the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn't comprehend what the entity had told him. But it seemed like he was given a 'champion'. He didn't know who it was. But he had a striking feeling that this champion was going to be his child instead of the child he saw in his vision.
Then visions started to flash again. This time it was on three individuals; two boys and a girl.
He saw amazing events that he couldn't even imagine. There was a boy with dark hair and sea green eyes controlling the sea and doing feats that would have made his great ancestor bow down in deference. He instinctively knew the boy's name. It was Perseus. He didn't know how but he knew that it meant destroyer in their language. And for the first time in history he learned a name of a god.
Perseus was the son of an entity named Poseidon who was the god of the seas, storms and earthquakes. The world he saw Perseus rise up was not the one he was familiar with and he instinctively knew that Poseidon was a god in that particular world.
The next was the girl. She was a handmaiden to another extraordinary being of power named Artemis who was the goddess of the wild, hunt, maidens and childbirth. The girl, Zoe was her handmaiden and was the daughter of Atlas, a 'Titan'; a being older than the gods.
Zoe was a huntress. He saw her bringing down creatures that would haunt him in his dreams with her silver bow.
The last boy was named Charles. He was a master smith and created magical wonders. He too slew magical beasts with his mighty hammers like smashing eggs. He was the son of Hephaestus, the god of the forge.
One thing he gathered from the vision was that these three were martyrs for their gods. They lived and died for them. Their whole life was a mission which they fulfilled until their demise.
As soon as the images finished flashing, he was thrown back into his body that was still kneeling in front of the Heart Tree. The force that his conscious was ejected made his body topple and he almost took a dip in the icy black pond.
He clutched his heart to steady himself as he pulled himself up and sat down heavily on the bench.
The things he saw was so lifelike that his heart raced from the fighter's high he gained just by watching them. Some of the things he saw reviled him. Most importantly, his family was being targeted by outsiders and it wasn't going to survive the storm if he did things exactly the same way he took action in the vision.
He wasn't one bit wary or suspicious about the vision itself seeing that it was a feat of magic that the maesters denied and it happened right at the weirwood signifying and confirming the involvement of the Old Gods that the southerners reviled and burned.
The gift that the 'Elder Gods' sent him was a surprise. These were three heroes that could conquer this world should they put their minds into it. He confirmed the world he saw was not his own but of one where the gods were active in mortal affairs. These three were powerful enough to defeat the gods… and by the time they had died, they weren't even adults.
He promised himself to cherish this gift. Charles, Zoe and Perseus… they were going to be his children and he would try the best to give them the life that they couldn't enjoy in their previous life. Sure when compared to them he was insignificant, but he was going to be their father… and any parent would go to extreme lengths to see to the happiness of their children. And they will thrive in this world without any meddling and he will shoulder the storms for them until they were ready to spread their wings. He couldn't wait to see what they would accomplish.
FLASHBACK END
"My Lord!" Rickard was shaken out of his short siesta by Mark. He looked around to get his bearings as he was lost in memory. His sleep deprived mind was working overtime and was failing to keep up with what was going on around him.
"What?" he grumbled as he stood up and stretched to get the sleep out of his tired eyes. This part of the castle was directly above the hot springs and was warm throughout the year. The heat and stuffiness didn't help him to curb his tiredness. All he wanted was to go and lay down with his wife and have a long sleep.
"My Lord your child is born!" exclaimed Mark with excitement in his voice.
It took a few seconds for Rickard to register Mark's words. But when he did he turned to him sharply. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner? Why hasn't the door opened? What is going on?"
"Calm down my Lord. I just heard the cry of your firstborn. Listen… you can still hear it cry if you stand over here."
The door and the walls that separated Rickard from his family was so thick that the only way to get an remote idea of what was happening on the other side was to stand close to the door. Rickard shoved Mark away and placed his ear to the door. He could hear it… his child… his gift. But the door was still closed o matter how he tried to pry it open.
Just then another cry broke out.
"Congratulations my Lord. It seems that our Lady has birthed twins," Mark cried ecstatically by Rickard's side.
Rickard was impatient. He cursed his good-sister for barring him to enter. All he could do was wait. And that was something the wolf-blooded men of the North was incapable of doing. He was filled with emotions that he couldn't reply to Mark's congratulation. He just placed his hand on the boy's shoulder indicating that he as grateful to have him by his side.
After an agonizing length of time the third and final cry that Rickard expected rang out. This was it. His children have finally opened their eyes to the world. He smashed his fist on the door hammering it so that the other party knew of his impatience. Had he had access to the great war hammer that his family had passed through the ages, he would have smashed the door down to enter. Luckily this section of the castle forbade the admittance of any kind of weapon.
Finally he heard the click of the lock being turned and the door opened. He pushed the door with all his might sending the surprised maester flying away and almost ran to the side of his wife's bed.
She was drenched in perspiration and looked extremely tired. But the smile on her face made up for the hardship she went through. Branda and the four midwives had already cleaned his eldest child and it was in its mother's arms. The other two were under the careful attention of the midwives as they were being cleansed and carefully examined for deformations and other problems. Not that they would have it as Rickard knew that his gift from the gods would never be tainted by birth defects.
He knelt by his wife's side as she happily cooed at the baby who was staring intelligently at its mother. It was a girl. His eldest child was a girl.
"Look at her Rickard… isn't she beautiful? Look sweetie… this is your father…," Lyarra showed the girl to him.
He had to agree. She was going to be a devastating beauty. Lyarra was one of the most beautiful women in the realm. She even had courtiers arrived from many major and minor noble houses in the South before her father announced her engagement to him which earned him quite the ire from the southern nobles. Their daughter had her mother's features with some he believed were from her past life. He also could see a touch of him in her here and there which was almost negligible unless you looked for those features specifically.
The usual dark grey eyes of the Starks were replaced by eyes that were light grey with a silvery sheen on them. They glowed silver as light reflected on them. It was enchanting and quite captivating. Those tiny eyes held so much wisdom that it humbled him. He didn't know whether his children remembered their past lives… but he was not going to question about it ever. They had painful lived and he didn't want to bring it up… ever. He would do his utmost to make them at home in this world. Maybe their memories were cleared out by the gods before sending them here but they were extremely intelligent.
"What is her name going to be Rickard? Personally I think Lyanna would match her. But there is something missing…"
"Her name… will be Zoe. Zoe of the House Stark, the first born child of the Lord Paramount of the North, the silver rose of Winterfell," he replied to his wife with emotion as he tried to pry his daughter away from his wife. Lyarra reluctantly handed Zoe to him but lightened up when her sister handed her second born son to her.
He could see some recognition flash in little Zoe's eyes when he proclaimed her name. She raised he tiny hands and gripped his beard as he brought her close. He was filled with parental instincts. No matter whom she was in the past she was his little girl now. And the troubles that were aimed at her would have to pass through him as he would protect her to his dying breath much like he would do for her two little brothers. But secretly he was pleased to have a girl because he knew that it was girls who loved their fathers more, not that he would say it out loud.
The room was filled with action. The six women in the room had clearly discarded etiquette and were flocking around his children. The same went to Mark. He was the only person to accompany his Lord to meet his children for the first time. Rickard noted that Walys was rather subdued ad waited patiently near the door which reminded that there was much to be done for the safety of his kingdom.
He handed Zoe to Branda who promptly made a fuss about her eliciting little giggles from the child.
He took his second born child, the eldest of the two boys from his mother's side and looked at him intently. This child was going to be his heir since the Great Houses required a male to inherit the lands ad rights. Compared to the other two children, he was a bit larger. Grey eyes with a tinge of red stared intently at him. Rickard could tell that this child would be almost identical to him when he grew up almost like his elder sister would look like their mother. Rickard instantly knew who this child was. He was Charles. And he was going to name him Charles because it felt right.
"Charles of the House Stark… my first-born son… the heir of Winterfell… may you lead your people to prosperity and protect your kingdom."
Much like his sister the child reacted to his name.
"Charles? That doesn't sound like a Northern name… and Zoe too," his wife noted. "But for some reason I can't think of another name that would fit him."
"I can't think of the reason as well," lied Rickard seeing that there were many outsiders present in the room. "It just… fits."
Lyarra nodded as she lay down in the bed trying to stay awake during the naming of her children. After all this was a historic moment since it was the first triplet to ever to be born into the Stark family.
"Any you my child, you will be Perseus. You will be the shield which your brother can depend on… the sword which slays your enemies… the guardian of the North and storm of Winterfell," he proclaimed as he took his youngest child from his mother while handing the eldest to one of the midwives.
Perseus had grey eyes that shone with a greenish hue. Mush like in his previous life his hair was unruly and he seemed to have gained features of both him and his wife. He could say that Perseus was the amalgamation of his parents while his siblings represented an extreme.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. And his children proved that. All of what they were in their past life was contained in their eyes. Zoe had silvery eyes depicting her time under the silver eyed goddess she served. Charles had a reddish tint depicting his time as a smith in the forge and his affinity for fire. And Perseus had a greenish hue in his eyes depicting his affinity to the seas and the time he spent controlling it to do his bidding.
"Mark… go tell the kitchens to ready for a feast. Tonight we celebrate!" he exclaimed at Mark who was peering over Charles and tickling him now and then making odd faces earning laughter from the said child.
"Yes sir," he said and raced away to relay the orders. Along the way Rickard could hear the boy yelling the news about the triplets to the soldiers and servant in the hallways. Rickard had to hide a smirk because he knew before soon the entire North would be aware of this historic birth and masses would be flocking to Winterfell to congratulate him. It seemed like the upcoming days would be filled with activity in the huge castle.
"Enter," Rickard Stark commanded after his visitors knocked on his solar door. It had been four weeks since the birth of his children and he couldn't be more euphoric than he was in his entire life. To play with the three cute babies after a long day of managing the lands was like a meditation to him. To see his children look around in wonder and to see his subjects adore them… the feeling was indescribable. He now knew why his father said that his children were what gave reason to his life. He wished his father was here to see the births of his grandchildren.
It had been a busy month. Dignitaries arrived left and right to offer congratulations and well wishes. The Cerwyns were the first to arrive. It wasn't surprising as they were the closest noble family to the Stark holdings. Then the Umbers, Karstarks, Glovers, Ryswells, Dustins, Flints, Tallhearts and the other nobles arrived one after the other. Every day was a celebration since he had to host these guests. The Boltons, Manderlys and the Reeds were the only noble houses that didn't arrive with the other guests. Roose Bolton had sent some of his followers as he had deemed that he was too important to arrive in person by giving a vague excuse. Rickard was seething at this slight and was determined to show the Bolton his place as soon as he got the chance.
The Manderlys were a different story. Wyman's wife had give birth to a daughter and the Lord of the White Harbor was busy with that and apologized for not being there. Rickard sent his gift and congratulations to Wyman. He was one of the guests who were arriving today as he said he wanted to speak about something important with Rickard.
Rowan Reed was also arriving today, stating that he too had something important to discuss and it was better to do it after all the hubbub had calmed down.
The door opened and the portly master of the White Harbor and the short crannogman wearing his iconic green hood entered the solar.
"Congratulations, my Lord. It's not every day you see the birth of three heirs at the same time," said Wyman with a laugh as he strode into the room.
"Wyman," Rickard greeted while standing up and grasping his arm in acknowledgement. The Manderlys were one of his most loyal vassals. Ever since their expulsion from the Reach and gaining sanctuary in the North under the protection of the Starks centuries ago, they had aided and answered all summons without any complaint. Manderlys also knew that they were granted an honor by the Starks since they bestowed them with the lands of the extinct Greystark line after they rose in rebellion. White Harbor was one of the richest ad busiest towns in the North and that was all due to the Starks.
"I hear you have a little girl of your own. Congratulations. From what I've heard she and my eldest boy Charles entered this world at the same time… can't be a coincidence, eh?"
"Thank you, my Lord," Wyman paused. "That coincidence is the same reason that I've decided to meet you like this… but you didn't tell me Rowan was going to be here as well." Wyman glanced at the concealed man with a little suspicion.
"You don't need to worry about that Wyman… the reason you came here is the reason which I came here. I explained to Lord Stark that I wanted to meet you both and he arranged this meeting," came the smooth almost musical reply from Rowan Reed. "Lord Stark… allow me to offer my well wishes as well. I foresee greatness for the House Stark with the auspicious arrival of the three heroes."
Rickard immediately went on full alert. Only he knew of the fact that his children were heroes in their past life. And that was because the Old Gods showed him the vision. He wasn't sure how Rowan got to know about it and he wanted to know how. The Reeds were always a mysterious family. They were loyal to the Starks to fault, but none of the Stark Lords or the ancient winter kings knew what was going on in Greywater Watch. The Reeds were one of the first families to bend knee and give up their crown when Rickon the Great Wolf, the grandson of Brandon the Builder started his campaign to unify the north more than seven millennia ago. The only demand they had was to leave them to their own devices.
Another thing that had been bothering Rickard was the coinciding births of his children and Wyman's child. He often brushed aside that thought as mere coincidence and now that Wyman was here to talk about the same thing that he had dismissed over and over again, he wasn't so sure about it anymore. The Gods worked in mysterious ways. Heroes being birthed into several houses… that was something he wished would never happen. If Mad Aerys or the scoundrel Tywin were granted children like that… the damage caused would be irreparable.
"Since it's just us three in here you don't have to stand ceremony. We are old friends after all, are we not?" Rickard said slowly as he tried to figure out where this conversation was headed. Even Wyman had a slight frown on his face.
Silence reined the room as nobody was willing to speak first.
"I'll start I guess," started Rowan with a sigh since neither of his peers wanted to start. He knew that he was the outsider and he had to ensure that he meant no harm to either of his friends.
"It all happened almost a year ago. You should know that the crannogmen have a deep bond with nature and our ancestors were the infamous Children of the forest. Because of this we can sense subtle changes in the direction the world is tilting. In the past often the old gods spoke with us to guide our people much like they did with your ancestors," Rowan nodded at Rickard who gave him a stiff nod in return and Wyman raised his eyebrow in surprise.
"I know that Rickard's three children and Wyman's girl were gifts from the gods. They were sent here to alter the fate of the world and give them a brand new start."
Rowan's words were like a massive blow on the head to Rickard and Wyman. Both looked at one another in surprise. Though they knew that their children were sent by higher beings they didn't know that they weren't the only ones.
Rickard sighed in relief while Wyman still had a bewildered look while he alternated between Rowan and Rickard.
"At least it's just our children. Imagine the danger if a child similar to this was born to a family like the Lannisters or the Tyrells… there are only four children right?" Rickard questioned Rowan.
"Yes; two boys and two girls. Both of you were shown a vision I believe. It's imperative that you take actions as to not repeat the same mistakes you did in that version of the future. The gods bestowed a boon to your families… don't squander it."
"Rickard… we must join families," blurted Wyman suddenly.
"What?"
"You know what I mean… your eldest son with my daughter. It will be a match made in heavens… because it is a match made by the heavens. I saw that in the past my child Selena was deeply in love with a boy named Charles. I believe that he is you boy. I came here because I was curious of the coincident births and the fact you named your child Charles. That is not a common northern name. In fact none of the other names you bestowed upon your children could be considered northern… 'Perseus' and 'Zoe'… i haven't heard those names even in the south. But now I'm sure. There is no other boy my child would be worthy of being wed. So let's join families."
Rickard considered it as it was actually a great and viable choice. The Manderly's were loyal and they were the second wealthiest family in the North. In the past there had not been any marital connections between the two families and this was a good time to start one because everything was going to change soon. And there was the fact that his child and Wyman's daughter were engaged in their past lives. He still didn't know whether the four heroes retained their memories and if they did, Charles would never go for any other girl than Silena. Denying him that would only cause resentment and conflict inside the family.
"I think it's a great idea," Rowan supplied.
Rickard knew that he had to eventually find spouses to his children. Marrying for love was rare. In this cruel world only benefits mattered. He knew Silena would grow into a beauty seeing that all Manderly's were attractive. Despite Wyman's ball like figure, he was a handsome man in his prime. So he took the obvious choice.
"Fine, let us join families. My eldest son will marry your daughter SIlena once they reach the appropriate age… Ahh… Lyarra will kill me for not talking to her about this."
Rowan and Wyman cracked a smile. They too knew that Rickard was under the thumb of his wife despite his massive frightening stature.
Rickard went to an adjacent cupboard and brought out a bottle of Dornish Red and three glasses. He poured a healthy amount to the three glasses imported from Lys and raised his. "May our families prosper and friendships last. To a better tomorrow."
"Hear, hear," cried Wyman and Rowan.
The three drained their glasses in a single gulp. "Man… that was good. It's been a while since I've had Dornish Red," muttered Rickard setting his glass down.
"There are other things I wanted to talk to you about," began Rowan.
"Yes," acknowledged Rickard.
"What are you going to do about the maesters?"
"What about the maester? What is going on?" Wyman questioned suspiciously.
"Maesters are spying on us. They send news on every single detail of importance to the Citadel. That is how they keep up with the important decisions. And they comply with any order that come from their headquarters, be it poisoning their lord or ruining his keep," replied Rickard slowly. This was a problem he had been searching a way to mitigate. He couldn't sack the maester without gaining suspicion from the Citadel. And even if he did, they would send another to replace him. It was something he couldn't reject as he wanted everything to be kept secret for now.
"What?" thundered Wyman. "Those bastards share our roofs, but give away our secrets… I'm going to impale Yovin when I get back home."
"Don't do anything rash. We must find a way to circumvent this without getting any attention," Rickard warned.
"I may have a solution," replied Rowan. Seeing that he got the attention of his two colleagues he began to elaborate. "All carrier ravens have to fly through the neck if they want to reach the south. Most of them rest in certain areas during their travels. I can simply divert them to one of my places with the help of a little woodland magic and intercept them all."
"Magic? You mean witchcraft still exist?" Wyman questioned.
"Yes, magic still exist thought it was being slowly eroded away for a long time. That was until your children came to this world. Now magic is slowly strengthening itself. Wyman, I know you are a follower of the Seven. But isn't it time for you to embrace the Old Gods. You have seen their power and experienced their existence. What have the Seven done for you? Those priests steal our money to offer blessings while the old gods only demand you to look after their trees. They vilify anything and everything they have no control of. They destroyed our culture, our religion. Ad Rickard... I expect something done about this on your end too."
Wyman looked stunned at Rowan's outburst since it wasn't everyday you saw the leader of the cannogmen raise his voice. in fact this was the first time Rowan was speaking to him like a true friend even though they knew each other for many a year. Wyman suspected his involvement with the Seven was the fact that made Rowan act cool towards him. Since he had grown to appreciate and witness the power of the Old Gods he once dismissed and actively chose to worship them little by little, Rowan was opening up to him. Otherwise he would never have mentioned the existence and strengthening of magic. The fact that he gained favor with the gods that Rowan revered helped too.
Rickard frowned after Rowan's outburst. This was a subject he wanted to address sooner than later. Currently only the Manderlys, Whitehills and two other houses followed the Faith of the Seven. His family had gone to great extent to keep the influence of the Andals from spreading. But it was a stalemate since the only gateway to the North, the White Harbour endorsed the religion. If the Manderlys were to give up the faith of the Seven, he could being to exterminate their influence slowly.
The first step he had to take was to find a fault in the septon of Wintertown and destroy the sept on those charges. The existence of the sept in Wintertown was just a symbolic gesture that his ancestors had to grant to show that the North welcomed all faiths since the annexation of the North by the Targaryens. Vilifying the sept had to be done carefully and now that Rowan demanded it, it was time to begin.
"I understand. I will begin making preparations," Rickard replied.
"I… I…," stammered Wyman torn with indecision. On one hand he would lose a lot of influence in the south and lose some people. It also may lead to a rebellion. But he no longer abided by the ironclad rues of the sept and he actively wanted to do something against the destruction of the properties and culture of the Old Gods.
"Don't give me that Maderly. You were given a chance by the gods. Make use of it or face their wrath. And that is something you want to avoid seeing that their influence is still strong in the North and now they are now actively paying attention to their land unlike in the past," Rowan mocked.
"Fine," growled Wyman. "I will give up on the Faith officially as will my family."
"You won't regret it."
"We'll see."
"See to it that their influence is curbed at White Harbor. Rickard can't take any action if they keep replenishing their numbers from the south."
"Fine," Wyman growled. Curbing the influence of the Seven from his family and holdings would take effort and he was not sure on how to explain it to his wife. His two sons were small enough that they could be influenced without any backlash.
"Alright… what do you plan to do with your woodland magic?" Rickard questioned getting the topic back on track.
"Though magic still exists, it's rather weak. So I can only alter the route the raven take to make a stop at a pre planned location. There my people can intercept those messages. We can keep the sensitive information from reaching the south through this. Also we can sniff out the spies in our holdings."
"Good… good…" muttered Rickard as an answer to his biting problem was discovered. Since Rowan could intercept the messages, he could slow down the amount of information reaching the south and alerting the mad king. He couldn't stop people from visiting the south, so leaks were unavoidable. But since he had already planned to keep things hidden from his own people for as long as he could, they had an opportunity.
"We can use the same method to order around the other spies within the northern holdings… in a way the southerners' spies would work for us," added Rickard.
"But won't the recipients notice that their spies have stopped replying?" Wyman questioned.
"Then we forge messages and send them in place of the originals," Rowan said after being stunned by Rickard's idea. He hadn't thought of using the enemies against themselves.
"Yes… Rowan, I believe I can trust you with this task?"
"Absolutely. My alliance is to the North… the last bastion of the old gods and I will do anything to stop it from declining."
"Good. Gather some of your most loyal men and women for this. I will give you a hundred thousand gold dragons. For now you only have to make a barrier between the north and the south. In time I want to form an organization that brokers all information. Nothing will happen in the Seven Kingdoms without us knowing. Your family and vassals will lead this organization and you can use it to gain profit as you see fit by brokering information."
"My Lord," Rowan stuttered as he was stunned at the revelation. From the time he had told his old friend about his ability to the subsequent plans, it didn't take the Massive Wolf much time to come up with a viable plan that had lasting consequences. Should this organization come into fruition, his family would be one of the most powerful families in the entire continent. Its power would rival even the strongest Great Houses.
There were few other things that Rowan confirmed through his dealings with his friend and liege lord. Rickard was not just a meathead who used brawn to smash his way through his obstacles. No… that was just the side he was showing to his vassals. He was a schemer. A deep schemer who would thrive in King's Landing. Rickard did not stop for short term benefits… no, he planned long term. Rowan had seen the same vision that Rickard saw. Even in that vision he planned for the ultimate expansion of the North by placing his family in a position of power within the Riverlands. Too bad his predictions had turned awry because of his own children, the subsequent rebellion and his demise. Now that Rickard had a new direction, he would work for the sovereignty of the North as the Stark Kings have done in the past.
Another thing was that Rickard had already started to implement his plans. Rowan was not sure what they were as Rickard kept his secrets close to heart. He doubted even Lady Lyarra knew about the plans. He would have to earn his trust little by little to be in on the secrets. It was something he could do slowly. The Reeds had to come out of hiding slowly and finally gain the position his family deserved in the vast North.
The final thing was the fact that Rickard valued loyalty and trustworthiness. Otherwise he would not have given him the money to begin something spectacular… something that was never before seen. Sure there were many spies within the Houses and Red Keep by various parties. But they were used to further their own political agenda. What Rickard suggested was to know these dirty little secrets and sell them to the highest bidder effectively making these secrets available to those who can pay. So secrets that would have circulated in certain circles would come out to light. This would make the 'Game of Thrones' in the capital more intriguing as it would level the playing ground between the Great Houses and the Minor Houses.
Rowan also knew that Rickard only gave him the opportunity because he was a close friend and loyal to the Starks. This friendship was earned by him after the brutal fight against the wildling raiders a few years back in which Rickard lost his father. He also knew that Rickard must have a plan to completely destroy him and this future organization should he prove unworthy. That was how Rickard operated.
"Wyman… I need your help to gather some people from Essos. You have to do this discreetly," Rickard added to the master of the White Harbor.
"Of course. Tell me what you need." Wyman had kept quiet the whole time as plans of Rickard were revealed a little. He too was surprised by the notion of a secret organization that brokered secrets. Adding to the fact that the entire thing was handed to Rowan just cemented the fact that Rickard valued his friends and loyalty to the Starks meant the prosperity of your own family. He couldn't wait to see what Rickard would do next. He may have joined the two families. But earning Rickard's trust was a slow endeavor. He would earn it like Rowan and lead his family to greater heights and leave his name behind as the man who propelled the Mandrlys to prominence.
"This is what we are going to do," Rickard began.
AN
And that's a wrap. See you soon. Don't forget to review.
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