Chapter 9: The Prophecy of the Chosen One
Winterfell stands as a testament to the ingenuity of its builders, its foundations resting upon a vast hot spring. The warm waters from this natural source flow within the walls of the castle.
In the summer months, this gentle warmth is barely perceptible and often goes unnoticed. However, when the harsh winter claws at the land, this warmth becomes a lifeline.
Lady Catelyn's chamber is the epitome of coziness, with hot spring water coursing through every wall, providing a sanctuary from the biting cold. Catelyn, a native of the warm Riverrun in the south, has always been accustomed to a milder climate. Even after more than a decade of marriage and living in the North, she still yearns for the gentle warmth of her homeland.
In stark contrast, Ned's room is a realm of chill; no hot spring water graces its walls. As a result, he seldom spends his nights there, for Catelyn cannot bear to sleep in such icy conditions.
Ned disentangled himself from Catelyn's embrace and strode to the window, throwing it open to let the frigid wind buffet his muscular frame—a sensation he found oddly comforting.
"Ned, I wish to bear another child with you, a daughter. That way, we'll have a perfect balance of three sons and three daughters. Little Rickon will have a playmate."
Ned's voice was subdued. "Very well, let's have another child."
"You don't seem happy about it."
"Catelyn, do you truly believe that the Night's Watchman came to deliver a prophecy?"
"He came with a prophecy, yes, but he also sought to flee."
"Indeed, the man's words cannot be taken at face value."
"Are you considering killing him?"
"The Night's Watch is in dire need of men; each additional hand is a gain in strength. As long as he returns to the Wall, I won't take his life."
The fate of all deserters from the Night's Watch is sealed: beheading.
"Catelyn, do you think the Night's Watchman's tales of the Others are true?"
"We'll know the day after tomorrow; our ravens should return by then."
"What does your intuition tell you?"
"It's likely just an excuse the Night's Watchman concocted to escape. What about you, Ned? Do you believe it?"
"I fear it might be true!"
"Even if it is, there's no cause for alarm. Maester Luwin assured us that the Others cannot breach the Wall due to the magic that guards it."
"How long have the enchantments on the Wall's ice and foundation stones been in place? Thousands of years. Are these spells still potent?"
"As long as the magic remains unbroken, it is ever effective. Ned, please close the window; the cold wind is chilling the room."
"Oh, very well," Eddard conceded reluctantly. He reveled in the sensation of the cold wind against his chest after their intimate moments and was loath to shut out the night air.
"The metaphors within prophetic fragments are notoriously difficult to decipher. Often, the true meaning of a prophecy eludes us. Even warlocks frequently misconstrue prophecies, and the visions of wargs are not infallible." Eddard mused.
"There are few warlocks on our continent; this is not Asshai."
Asshai, that enigmatic land to the east, at the far edge of the Dothraki sea, a city steeped in magic. The journey from Winterfell to Asshai would take at least a year and a half by sea, and over two years by land.
"Robert will arrive in a few days. You and Maester Luwin spent the entire afternoon with that Will. What did you ask him?"
Catelyn sat up, drawing the shadowcat fur blanket up to her neck to protect her long, elegant neck from the cold—Ned had yet to close the window. "Ned, you wouldn't want to know."
"Tell me about it," Eddard urged, finally closing the window to shut out the cold wind that had been invading their chamber. Catelyn sighed in relief, loosening her grip on the fur blanket, which slipped down to reveal a glimpse of her slender, white neck.
"During the day, in the godswood, Will mentioned it was an ill omen. I sensed there was more to his words, so I specifically questioned him about it with Maester Luwin in the afternoon. He said that does are hornless, so the deer that killed the direwolf was a stag."
"The stag's antler broke off in the direwolf's neck; of course, it was a stag that killed the direwolf." Eddard remarked, "What's there to investigate?"
"Ned, your sigil is the direwolf, and Robert's is the stag, a stag."
Eddard chuckled and sat on the bed. "Catelyn, you're worrying too much. Even if the whole world betrays me, Robert never will. We have our conflicts, and Robert will curse and swear horribly, but in the end, he'll reconcile with me again."
"Maester Luwin said the same thing. King Robert won't kill you, but Will said he didn't say King Robert would kill Lord Eddard. He only saw that the direwolf died because of a stag's antler."
"What does that mean?"
"The prophecy suggests that the direwolf died because of a stag, not that the stag killed the direwolf."
Eddard was momentarily stunned.
One event, two interpretations, with entirely different meanings.
Inwardly, he pondered whether he would die for Robert, if someone threatened Robert's life and authority...
The answer was yes!
This was the direwolf's death because of the stag, not the stag killing the direwolf.
"Catelyn, you and Maester Luwin are overthinking this. I don't put much stock in the meaning of this prophecy; it's nonsense."
"Perhaps it is," Catelyn's eyes glimmered with uncertainty.
"Catelyn, what else did you ask, and what are you hiding from me? How many prophetic fragments did that Night's Watchman, Will, see? Don't trust his words too much, Catelyn. He might be a fraud. When the ravens return, we'll know everything about that man."
"Dear Ned, maybe Will is becoming a warg. If he is truly the chosen one, we need his help."
Only in private would Eddard address Catelyn by her name, a term of endearment. Catelyn, however, called Eddard by his nickname, Ned, without hesitation, even in public.
Her love for him was open and selfless, unconcerned with the ridicule of others. She was willing to give him her all.
The only thorn between them was Jon Snow.
The only time Eddard ever scolded Catelyn and lost his temper was when Catelyn wanted to send Jon Snow away.
Aside from Jon Snow, there was intimacy between them.
"Alright, I'll entertain the notion that Will is the chosen one. What else did you learn from this supposed chosen one?"
"He said that what fell from the broken tower was not a shadow, but a person. He even saw the person's face clearly."
"Who?"
"Bran!"
"He didn't mention that during the day in the godswood."
"Yes, because if he had, we wouldn't have believed him. Just like with the Others, until now, besides you and me being half-convinced, Maester Luwin, Captain Jory, Desmond, and Hullen, no one believes his talk of the Others appearing. Theon Greyjoy called him a liar, a deserter, and a coward at the dinner table."
"Do you believe him now?"
"Besides the Others providing an excuse for his escape, Bran falling from the broken tower, the direwolf dying because of a stag—these are things we least like to hear. Saying them would only make us detest him more, which is not in his favor, so there's no need for him to deceive us with these things. Ned, in the name of the old gods, go and talk to the chosen one properly. My eyes do not deceive me; the chosen one has many prophetic predictions that he hasn't revealed."