Chapter 50 - Oath
"Lord Stark, do you know about the Pact between the First Men and the Children of the Forest on the Isle of Faces?" I asked.
"Of course. The pact that happened ten thousand years ago."
"Do you think the old Kings of First Men and Children of Forest just shook hands and trusted each other's word?"
"No, Ned. That Pact was magically bound. Ancient oaths were enforced by blood and magic so that even if the descendants forgot their promises, their very blood would remember. I will have every lord and every maester to swear a binding oath while the Children of the Forest will perform the magical rites. If they dare to betray the true cause of the North, the magic and the oath will judge them."
"And that includes you too, Lord Stark. Neither you nor your descendants may act against the other houses, unless they harm the North or your House."
Eddard Stark closed his eyes, a deep, exhausted sigh escaping his chest. When he opened them, it felt like the cold grey of winter looked back at me. The stubborn denial had now faded into a grim, analytical acceptance.
"That is acceptable. And under the circumstances, it is necessary," Ned said, his voice a low rumble. He paused, looking intently at the young man before him.
"Very well, I will send word. I will inform the lords to come and to bring their maesters with them and freemen will be invited too."
"Thank you, Lord Stark," I replied softly. "Thank you for believing me."
"I am not just believing you, Matt," Ned corrected me, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk.
"I am believing the circumstances you have laid bare. The pieces fit too perfectly into a puzzle I never thought I had. I actually wanted to deny and tell you that I am entirely confident in the maesters. I wanted to say that they are beyond doubt."
A bitter edge crept into his tone, "But I cannot say that. Not now, when you have pointed out these inconsistencies."
Ned rubbed his temples, staring blankly at the map of Westeros sprawled between them.
"I cannot even begin to think about the dragons or what my father truly thought about them. But the marriage... if Lyanna and Rhaegar wed in secret, it had to be done before a septon or a maester. Such a thing should have been recorded. Others should have been informed."
Ned's breathing grew ragged. The implications slammed into him with the force of a war hammer. He looked at me, his face a mask of dawning realisation and horror.
"And if what you are indicating is true, then that changes everything. It means every one of us was played. Every lord in Westeros was moved like a piece on a board."
"Yes, Lord Stark," I said directly, "And it is not just this war. Many of the conflicts, if not most of the wars of the past few centuries, can trace their bloody origins right back to the Citadel. And that is specific not just to the maesters. It also includes the Faith of Seven, or more precisely, to those who lead the Faith. The Sept, where the Septons rules and live similar to lords and the High Septon who see the reach of faith as their Kingdom. They are woven into it too."
Lord Stark leaned back, huffing heavily, the air whistling through his teeth as he stared at the ceiling, the foundations of everything he believed crumbling beneath him.
The candle flame flickered, casting long, twisting shadows across the stone walls of the solar. Lord Stark sat in a silence so heavy it seemed to press the very air from the room. His hands, weathered and scarred from war, gripped the edges of the heavy oak desk until his knuckles turned a stark, bloodless white.
The solar settled into an awkward silence. It was a serious silence, where both people had too many thoughts running through their minds and neither knew which one to speak first.
After a while, I decided that we had discussed enough serious topic for one sitting. Hoping to break the tension, I leaned back and steered the conversation down a different path.
"Let us leave that aside for now, Lord Stark. What has happened cannot be undone. We can only make sure it does not happen again. We have to make sure that nobody is quietly led by the nose in the future."
Ned nodded immediately, a flash of gratitude crossing his grey eyes.
"You are right, Matt. Whatever the truth is, we cannot change the past."
"Exactly."
I leaned back.
"So, how are the Children of the Forest? How are the people of Winterfell responding to them?"
The question acted like a balm. The change in his expression was immediate. The grim lines on Ned's face softened, the seriousness disappeared from and was replaced by a genuine smile.
"It has been unprecedented," Ned admitted, his voice carrying a warmth that had been missing all morning.
"Really?"
"I honestly expected people to be frightened," Ned said. "For generations, the Children have been nothing more than stories and legends told to children. I thought people would have trouble accepting them as real, or worse, that they will cower from their appearance."
He shook his head. "Instead, they accepted them far more easily than I expected."
"That is good to hear."
"There was some discomfort in the beginning," he admitted. "Some people did not know how to behave around them. A few were afraid of their appearance. But that lasted only a few weeks."
"And now?"
"Now, the smallfolk and servants go about their days as if it were entirely ordinary. Now they are simply part of Winterfell and not a spectacle or wonder."
I smiled.
"That is wonderful news, Lord Stark. It means the people of the North still believe in the old magic, the Children and deeper faith in the Old Gods more than many of the nobles do."
Ned nodded. "That seems to be true."
He paused before adding, "The children themselves also seem very happy. They have adapted quickly."
"That is what I hoped for, Ned."
"And their healing has been remarkable."
His voice became more enthusiastic.
"They are extraordinary healers, Matt. People who had been sick for years have recovered. Soldiers who had carried old wounds and were in constant pain are now moving freely again. You can see the results in the training yard."
Ned chuckled.
"Men who once hesitated before training because of old injuries now throw themselves into practice without fear. They also no longer hold back during sparring. They know that unless the injury is fatal, the Children can probably heal it."
"That must have changed the training considerably."
"It has."
He shook his head with amusement.
"Ser Rodrik has benefited greatly from them as well. He is moving better than he has in years."
"That is excellent."
Ned paused, rubbing his own shoulder absentmindedly.
"And I have benefited too."
"You?"
He nodded.
"There were some injuries from the wars of rebellion that still caused pain from time to time. They were wounds that I had simply learned to live with. Even the injuries from Greyjoy uprising. The Children treated them. Now the injuries are healed and the pain is gone. All of it."
I smiled.
"I told you, Lord Stark. They are exceptional healers. Their connection to the earth, to the very source of the trees and plants, makes their knowledge of healing deeper than everything, even those old Citadel scrolls."
"You were right." He looked at me seriously.
"And I am grateful to them for their help. But I am also grateful to you, Matt. You were the one who believed they could live here peacefully. You were the one who convinced us to give them a place."
I shook my head and looked out the narrow window toward the ancient woods.
"It was always their place."
Ned raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?"
"The Godswood, the heart trees, forests. These were their homes long before the kingdoms and castles existed."
I gestured toward the window.
"Just because they disappeared from the sight of men does not mean those places stopped belonging to them."
Ned listened quietly.
"They were always connected to the land," I continued. "The First Men did not simply defeat the Children and take their land. They eventually made peace with them."
"The Pact."
"Yes. The Pact was that the forests belong to the Children. The old stories say the First Men survived the Long Night with the help of the Children. Their knowledge of the forests, the land and the magic helped our ancestors survive."
I paused.
"And later, when the Andals came, the Children were already part of the history of the North. Their influence can still be seen in the old traditions."
Ned looked thoughtful. I looked toward the window again.
"The Children were never truly gone, Lord Stark. They were simply hidden."
"And now they have returned."
I smiled. "And now the North is finally remembering something it should never have forgotten."
Ned nodded slowly, "Perhaps it is."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. This silence was different from the earlier one. It was no longer uncomfortable.
Then Ned looked at me.
"And I suspect you did not come here only to discuss the Council."
I smiled, "No, Lord Stark. I have a few more things to discuss with you."
His expression became cautious.
"I was afraid you would say that."
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End of Chapter 50 - Oath