"To contact the Old Gods again," Dean said, voicing his thoughts, "I will need to perform a ritual in the godswood."
At the same time, another thought ran beneath his words. This was not just about convincing Ned. It was a chance to test his ability.
The rules of Shadow Extraction were still unclear in practice. It clearly stated that he had to personally kill the target, though his shadows could assist him. But what counted as "personally"?
Did he need to fight the creature from start to finish himself, relying only on his shadows?
Or could other people, apart from him and his shadows, weaken the target first, bringing it to the brink of death, and then he would step in to deliver the final killing blow?
If the second option worked… that would change everything.
It would mean he could turn powerful beasts into shadow soldiers without risking his life fighting them head-on.
And this so-called ritual… it was the perfect excuse.
If Ned agreed, Dean could have multiple strong creatures brought to him alive but weakened. All he would need to do was land the final blow.
If that counted as "his kill"…
Then he could gain powerful shadow soldiers right here in Winterfell.
The thought alone was enough to make the risk worth it.
"A ritual?" Ned asked as a faint crease appeared between his brows.
Dean nodded confidently.
"It requires sacrifice," he said. "Of animals and birds. Creatures that must be offered before the heart tree with my own hands."
Ned's eyebrows drew together as a frown appeared on his face,"What creatures?"
Dean listed them carefully, watching Ned's face for the slightest twitch. "A northern elk, a northern garron, a falcon, an auroch and a bear."
"They must be brought alive," Dean pressed, sensing the wall of Northern tradition closing in around him. "Half-broken. Weak enough that the life leaves them slowly under the weirwood. The Old Gods favor the strong, my lord. The stronger the beast, the clearer the truth."
Disgust and revulsion appeared on Ned's face as he heard that. "That is the blood-work of red priests and the maegi of the south," he said. "My gods are silent. They watch. They do not demand the torture of beasts to whisper secrets in a man's ear. The North has never worshipped that way, and it will not start in my godswood."
He stepped closer, his presence suddenly looming and dangerous. "You claim to know the secrets of my house and the death of Jon Arryn. I spared you for those words. But do not mistake my patience for a fool's curiosity. If you bring the stench of blood magic into my godswood, I will not need a ritual to know what to do with you."
Dean flinched internally at that but he didn't let it show on his face as he knew even a little bit of hesitation and weakness would foil everything.
So he continued,"My lord, the raven has arrived, has it not? The Hand is dead, as I implied. If you wish to know the truth behind it, and to understand what may be set in motion against the King, yourself, and your family, then I ask you to consider my request. The cost is only a few beasts. I leave the judgment of that to you."
Ned stared at him for a long, grinding moment. The mention of his loved ones was a blade to the ribs. He hated this man's words, hated the half-broken cruelty he proposed, but the accuracy of the events of future and past were the only thing that prevented him from taking this deserter's life.
Ned stood there fuming, but he didn't say anything and just turned and threw the door open.
"Take him," Ned commanded the guards standing down the corridor. "Move him to the inner tower. He is to be guarded night and day. If he so much as whispers a word, put a rag in his mouth."
The guards stepped forward at once. They grabbed Dean by the wrists and began to lead him away.
Dean walked without resisting. His thoughts were already turning over what had just happened.
He realized his decision to bring up the ritual had been made too hastily.
It was something he had come up with on the spot and thought he might gain something from it. However he was wrong.
The moment he described it, he could see the shift in Ned. The man had not been curious. He had been offended by the very word of sacrifice.
Dean who had blurted without thinking earlier, now realised why it offended Ned.
The North did not treat the Old Gods as something to bargain with. They did not perform loud rituals or demand blood in exchange for answers. What Dean suggested sounded closer to southern magic or something darker. It went against everything Ned believed in.
Dean exhaled slowly.
He had tried to make the idea sound ancient and powerful, but instead it sounded cruel and unnecessary. Asking for wounded animals had made it worse. That alone had nearly destroyed any ground he had gained.
He had only pushed the idea because he was still a captive and he wanted to gain something out of this situation. The ritual was meant to act as a front. If he could make it happen, he might have gained powerful shadow soldiers.
He frowned slightly as they moved through the corridor.
Dean could see now that trying to gain power in this way, especially in front of someone like Ned, had been a poor move. It made him look less trustworthy instead of more valuable.
Maybe he had been too greedy.
'Fuck what would I have done to gain a stat of max intelligence,' Dean cursed his foolishness and sighed.
He straightened slightly as the guards led him forward.
Next time, he would not rely on something he invented in a moment.
He would rather choose something that fit the North and control his inner seven deadly sins while at that.
.
..
...
After Dean was taken away, the door closed behind him with a dull sound. Eddard Stark remained standing where he was for several moments, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides.
The words about sacrifice and blood ritual lingered in his mind and left a bitter weight in his chest. They stood against everything he believed in. The Old Gods did not ask for such acts, and the North had never followed such practices.
After a while, he walked back to his chair and sat down, letting out a slow breath as he tried to tone down his anger. The man's request disturbed him deeply, yet the same man had spoken truths that could not be ignored, and that contradiction weighed heavily on him.
Ned closed his eyes for a brief moment and forced his thoughts in another direction.
His mind turned to the truth about Jon Snow.
For seventeen years, he had carried that secret alone, guarding it with everything he had. No one knew, not even his own wife. Only Howland Reed had stood beside him at the Tower of Joy and shared that burden.
And Reed would never betray him.
If there had ever been a chance of that secret coming out, it would have happened long ago. There had been no reason for silence all these years if betrayal had been in Reed's heart.
That meant the deserter had not learned it from any man, and that thought unsettled him more than anything else.
He opened his eyes and stood, walking slowly toward the window. His thoughts shifted to Robert. If the deserter spoke true, then the king would soon arrive and ask him to become his Hand.
Under normal circumstances, Ned would have agreed without hesitation. Robert was more than a king to him. He was a friend, a brother, a man he had fought beside and trusted with his life.
He might have even taken his daughters with him to court, as many lords did for alliances and marriages.
Now, however, the situation carried a different weight, and that simple decision no longer felt simple.
If his life truly stood in danger, then something had already begun moving in the shadows. That danger would have to be powerful enough to reach him even with Robert near him, and that thought did not sit well with him.
Robert would never willingly allow harm to come to him. So there were only a few paths that made sense.
Either Robert would not be there, or something would separate them at the worst possible time. Ned frowned as the thought settled more firmly in his mind.
Jon Arryn was dead, a strange deserter had appeared with impossible knowledge, and now warnings of danger pointed toward King's Landing. The pieces did not fit together cleanly, yet they all pointed in the same direction. Something was wrong, and that wrongness lay in the south.
After standing there for a long time, turning each thought over carefully, Ned finally stepped away from the window. He left his study and walked through the quiet halls toward his chambers.
When he entered, he saw Catelyn waiting for him. She rose as soon as she saw him, her eyes searching his face with quiet concern.
"Ned," she said softly, then paused as she took in his expression. "Something troubles you. I can see it plainly."
Ned closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment, silent, weighing his words. He had already kept one truth from her for many years, and the thought of hiding more sat heavily on him. He could not speak of Jon, but the rest could not remain unspoken.
"There is something I must tell you," he said at last, his voice low and serious. Catelyn stepped closer, her concern deepening as she listened. Ned drew in a breath and began to explain, telling her about the deserter and the strange conversation they had shared.
He spoke of the man's knowledge, of the way he had predicted events that had already begun to unfold, the ritual he planned to hold and of the warnings he had given.
He did not speak of Jon's parentage, but he did not hide anything else.
"The deserter spoke of Jon Arryn's death before the raven came," Ned said, watching her reaction. "And he said the king is coming north, which we now know to be true. He also believes Robert will ask me to serve as Hand."
Catelyn's expression tightened as she listened, her mind already moving ahead. "And will you accept?" she asked, her voice steady but firm.
Ned did not answer quickly. Instead, he looked at her with a grave expression, the weight of the choice clear in his eyes.
"The deserter warned me of more than that," Ned said after a moment. "He spoke of danger. He said that if I go south, I will not return. He also said that these coming days will be turbulent, and that harm may come not only to me but to those I hold dear."
That last part hung heavily in the air between them.
Catelyn's face changed at once, concern turning into something sharper. "Then you must not go," she said firmly, stepping closer to him. "If there is even a chance that what he says is true, you cannot risk it. Winterfell needs you, your family needs you, and the North is safer with you here."
Ned listened to her, his expression steady but troubled. "If Robert asks me to serve, I cannot simply refuse him," he replied. "He is my king, and more than that, he is my friend. If he rides all this way to ask for my help, then something is wrong. Jon Arryn is dead, and Robert may stand alone in a court full of men he does not fully trust."
Catelyn shook her head slightly, her voice carrying both worry and frustration. "And what of us?" she asked. "What of your children? If there is danger in King's Landing, then walking into it willingly would place all of us at risk."
Ned stepped closer to her.
"I have already given him my word, Cat," he said and added after a short pause. "If there is danger, then I must see it for myself. If Robert is in trouble, I cannot turn my back on him. But I will not act blindly. If I go, I will go with caution, and I will not take anyone except for Sansa with me."
He hesitated before adding, "I would rather keep her here. The capital is not a place I trust."
He looked at Catelyn and continued, "But Robert has already spoken of joining our houses. Sansa is to be promised to his son. If I leave her behind, it will be seen as disrespect to the king and the queen."
Catelyn frowned at once. "She is still a child, Ned. You are taking her into a dangerous place."
Ned's voice lowered. "If anything goes wrong, I will make sure she has a way to leave safely. I will not let her be trapped there."
The room fell quiet as his words settled. Catelyn looked at him for a long moment, her worry clear in her eyes.
Ned reached out and hugged her.
Neither of them spoke after that.
They stood together in silence, their thoughts heavy with the troubles that lay ahead.
☩ ───── End of Chapter ───── ☩
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