The Power of Human Sacrifice

A/N: 5.92k words... Longest chapter yet. Damn, I loved writing this.

40k/40k. Now I just gotta hit 10-15k for the week, and I'll be all caught up :)

I think I saw a comment from a guy who thought I had nerfed Aegon a lot... I definitely haven't haha - He is a beast. Especially in ranged combat in favourable terrain. His physique is also catching up, and if you want his current stats, you can check the auxiliary chapter pertaining to it. His new weapons and armour are there as well.

One thing I gotta say though: Some of ya'll are wild as heck, and I sure am glad that I probably won't be transmigrating to Planetos with you guys xD

Enjoy!

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Bay of Ice, The North - 289 AC

POV | Robb Stark (Warg Mode)

Spying on someone through the eyes of a falcon was always a weird experience in Robb's opinion. Spying on his brother was even weirder, but he knew that they had to keep an eye on him to some extent. 'I don't want him to do something stupid. I'll just have Brightwing slap some sense into him if he keeps acting stupid.'

His dear falcon companion was probably the fastest animal in existence when dragons and wyverns were not taken into consideration. Considering that dragons were dead, and wyverns lived on Sothoryos, he did not really think they counted.

So, Robb was glad that he had that particular bird as his first animal friend. 'Even though I really want a Direwolf… and a Shadowcat… and a Hellhound.' He was absolutely sure that he would get them eventually. Especially the Direwolf since Jon had promised him one if Gere ever had pups.

'Beasts and animals don't care about family relations, so I might just get one soon.' The mere thought of it made him giddy. He just really hoped it would be grey like the Stark Wolf.

Now, Robb knew that his brother was probably one of the best riders in the world. Hearing his brother being called Centaur, and Half-Horse, even if they are the same thing as well as a gentle Dothraki, Robb knew Jon was good. The best.

Watching him polishing and whetting his weapons as he rode at the pace of a full gallop from an average charger, really put that into perspective for the young Stark heir.

The first part of the journey had been really exciting even though he could literally feel the malice surrounding Jon as he travelled through the Wolfswood. Not that he could understand it, to begin with.

Robb had realized that Jon was going for the Bay of Ice when he saw him pull out a map to calculate the time he had before it would be too late. Robb was not really sure about what exactly would be too late though. 'But I will find out!'

Robb's first plan was to scout the area around the Bay of Ice and Sea Dragon Point. His first move was to fly as high up as Brightwing could manage before he started a dive that led him to achieve incredible speeds! He had never felt more alive than he did at that particular moment.

A few hours were all he needed to reach the Bay of Ice, and a few more hours were needed for him to scout the seas. He had a creeping feeling in the pits of his stomach that Jon was going to do something epically stupid like trying to fight off an Ironborn invasion by himself. 'I really hope he doesn't!'

Flying around the coast and a bit further south than Sea Dragon Point, gave Robb the answers he had been seeking. 'Of fucking course… Of all the stupid shit he could decide to do…'

Robb proceeded to give Brightwing mental commands to return towards Jon before he returned to his mind and body in the safe space of his mother's room.

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POV | Robb Stark (Back at Winterfell)

He shook his head a bit to clear his point of view. Even though his eyes were vastly better than those of a regular human, he was not up to par with an actual falcon. Especially what Jon had called his dynamic vision, was vastly subpar to that of the Hawk used for his Hawk-Eye ritual.

Still, he could take pride in the fact that no human would ever get the drop on him as long as he was within his vision.

"Robb, what did you see?" asked the concerned Lady Stark. She had been keeping an eye on Robb as he was warging, whilst studying Northern history. She figured a better understanding of The North, its legends as well its culture might help her assist her son with his abilities.

Her many talks with Aegon opened her eyes to how large the world truly is. After he told her about the magical abilities that could sometimes be found in those with the Blood of the First Men, she spent more and more time actually getting a grasp on what kind of family she had been married into. Safe to say, the Stark history was vastly more illustrious than anything the Tullys could hope to compete with.

A point she had actually missed until now. She had always figured that the difference between each Lord Paramount was almost negligible, except for the power wielded by The Westerlands because of gold, The Reach because of their farming capacity, and The Stormlands due to their ties to royalty.

She had been severely humbled and honoured by her position as the Lady of Winterfell. Something she would try to live up to henceforth. She had considered the Old Gods, but she did not feel ready for such a major step. Baby steps.

Robb looked at the book his mother was reading. 'The Winter Kings' was carved into the wooden cover, and he smiled proudly. 'She is finally trying.' "Hmm. Except for the fact that he is capable of riding and polishing weapons at the same time? I saw four Ironborn ships making their way towards Bear Island."

Catelyn gasped. "No! He would not be that foolhardy?!"

Robb winced. He knew Jon better than most. That was the exact thing Jon would do. He would look like he would agonize over a decision, yet he would always do what was proper.

Or, it would have been proper if he were a man grown. Something he was not, yet always seemed to forget by the sheer responsibility he seemed to put upon his own shoulders.

He gulped as he answered. "He definitely would." His mother looked shocked, so he decided to elaborate.

"That's kind of Jon's thing. He broods a lot, and then he acts. If he doesn't brood, then it's because he's done it out of sight, and then it just looks like he acts without thinking it through."

He took a breath to centre himself before he used his Wolf-Hearing to scan for possible spies. A good habit he had tried to develop, and he had been quite successful at it as well.

After he determined that it was safe, he decided to continue. "I've seen Jon train at night when it's completely dark."

"How would he be able to see, then? And how can you see him?" interrupted his mother.

He rubbed his neck as he answered. "We can both see in the dark, it's the Wolf blood." 'Or Wolf-Vision for those of us who know the rituals.'

"Anyway, I've seen him train with no attempt to hide his true prowess, and I can safely say that he is the fastest person I have ever seen. When he is going all out, it's like he is one with wind, and I would estimate his strength to be below only the veterans among our guards as well as Jory, Rodrik, Benjen, and Father." He nodded along with his explanation as if he were still trying to believe what he had seen.

Catelyn gained a look of clarity as she finally understood where he was going with it. "You think he was always training for scenarios like these."

"Aye. You don't train until your hands bleed and your bones creak unless you have something specific in mind." Confirmed the heir of Winterfell.

"You think he was planning on joining the fight against the Ironborn since the beginning." She stated. She knew her son well enough to draw a conclusion based solely on his facial expressions.

"Aye." The singular word through his mouth seemed to cast a spell of silence inside the room.

"How many animals has he been watching their atrocities through, Robb?" whispered the young woman heart-wrenchingly.

He tensed slightly as he thought about his brother's absurd conspiracy of Ravens. "102, if you include Hugin and Munin."

She pulled her son into a hug as she thought about what exactly that meant. How the young boy she had come to see as a true family member, had been watching the Ironborn pillage and raid the common folk and nobility alike, whilst the boy had been fighting with himself on whether or not he should join the fight.

Robb, meanwhile, was dreading the implications of Jon's actions. He could still see the fight of two years past as if it happened only yesterday. The screams of pain, hatred, and wrath are accompanied by the song and dance of fire and steel.

'Don't get yourself killed, brother.'

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Coast, Bay of Ice - 289 AC

POV | Aegon Targaryen

The haze of rage had been lifting slowly ever since he left Winterfell. Something for which he was immensely thankful.

'I need to get that under control. Am I spending too much time warging with the Ravens? Is their primitive mind corrupting my own, or is it just a fault of my blood?'

He had realized he had an issue. He was not a moron, after all. Realizing something was wrong and actually managing to do anything about it… Now that was another beast entirely.

'Probably did not help that the ravens I warged into wanted to feast on the corpses. Urgh.'

He had decided to camp by an alcove near the coast before he travelled the last 20 miles to the Island. Whether that would be by swimming or by borrowing a rowing boat from the nearby fishing village, was still unclear as of now.

'The raiders will be here by night, so I have approximately… Eight hours. Should be plenty for the runes I need to carve into my weapons.'

He was going to keep it fairly simple and practical. He wanted maximum efficiency when he slaughtered the bastards. No mercy towards rapists and murderers of innocents was his creed after all. 'Do I need a creed though? It's stifling as fuck… Can I not just do whatever I feel is right? Whenever I feel is right?'

He thought it over for a few seconds as he sat down and gazed upon the with his eyes. The view was breathtaking. 'Do I need to be so damn uptight all the time? I'm not that dead guy from the earth. Who is he even? Some poor orphan with a saviour complex who achieved nothing. That's who he was. I'm not him, and I'm not Jon Snow. I'm just Aegon. That's all I need to be and all I want to be.'

He took a deep breath to truly take in his surroundings as well as his musings. 'I've been spending so much time and energy on why I can't do this, or can't do that… Because of fear. I don't want to be remembered as an evil person or a tyrant. I want a good legacy. But the truth is I'm afraid. I'm afraid of falling into tyranny. Obscurity. Mediocrity.'

'I fear failure.'

Freya walked over and sat down beside him as she felt that he was finally calming down. She bumped her head against him before she lay down with her head in his lap, her eyes were closed, and he could almost see the smile on her majestic face.

He rubbed her behind her ears to loud purrs of contentment, something that seemed to draw the attention and jealousy of all the others, going by the pitiful looks he was receiving.

"I'm sorry for being a coward." He told them, his voice gentle and genuine.

The collective scoff he received from them had him laughing loudly and truly. 'It really is that simple, isn't it? I just do what I feel is smart and right for me, and if I fail… Then I fail, fall, pick myself up and try again.'

The sun was peeking through the clouds setting his eyes alight. 'I said it myself. The winner writes the history. If I don't want to be remembered as a vile sorcerer, then I just have to win, remove the citadel, and write the history myself.'

He laughed happily as he fell back unto his back. The pressure of his burdens seemed to have disappeared, and Aegon felt lighter than he had ever felt in his life. 'It is that simple, isn't it?'

He picked up his carving tools once more along with his spear. He wanted the most effective and efficient weapon he could get, and he knew how to enchant it. 'Durability, sharpness, resilience; fire and ice, and sacrifice. The first ones are obvious for weapons of castle-forged steel. The rune for sacrifice is an interesting one, though. Every single creature slain by my spear will function better for a ritual developed with First Men runes.'

The Ironborn would pay for their travesties through their death. A death that would pay back the world for all the shit they managed to put its inhabitants through. He had steeled himself for his first ritual using human sacrifices.

'This ain't earth, and becoming king is not without sacrifices either. What's the difference between letting my men die for me in combat and using my enemies' death to further my goals and the well-being of my people?'

If he was being honest with himself, without going all priest on himself, then the latter actually seemed like the lesser evil, yet he had been almost entirely okay with the first scenario.

He laughed slightly at the thought as he finished up the carvings on the spear blade. He only used the durability and resilience runes on the shaft, no need for the others.

"You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain." He whispered aloud for his own sake.

"I'll just make sure to never become a hero. Hero Kings never live long anyway."

He stabbed a knife into his hand as he allowed his blood to fill the carvings on the shaft and the blade. His voice chanted the runes in the Old Tongue as the blood merged with the wood and the blade. The runes lit up and Aegon smiled ferally at his achievement.

'Thanks, Bran.'

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Bear Island, The North - 289 AC

POV | Gyles Farwynd, heir of Lord Gylbert Farwynd

His family had long been seen as queer due to their First Men blood and rumoured ability to warg into sea animals. An ability their House had long lost. An ability he wanted to resurface in his progeny. Even if it happened through a salt wife.

'If any of the She Bears can whelp me a warg, I would consider making her my rock wife.' He was still young enough for his current one to die tragically whereafter he could replace his rock wife.

They had decided to raid Bear Island before dawn. The lacking visibility would allow them to catch the few men remaining by surprise, and they could proceed to take every single Mormont woman as their salt wives. Even a couple of the serving wenches if they proved entertaining.

They had just anchored their ships and started making their way towards the modest wooden keep. 'They can't have more than 30 guards left. Maybe five awake? We'll kill them before I wet my cock in the cunts of their wives and daughters.' He grinned ferally as he thought about what a wonderful night this would be.

Swoosh.

Golden eyes were the last thing he saw before darkness claimed him in perpetuity.

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POV | Aegon Targaryen

He looked at the Ironborn with dispassionate eyes as he knocked another arrow and released it with perfect precision. He had trained with the weapon for more than one thousand hours.

His 10-for-1 talent meant that he had essentially trained his marksmanship for more than ten thousand hours. The equivalent of more than an entire year without breaks. His strength and vision made him an almost unequalled archer. He was the best archer in Winterfell and on the Wall. He highly doubted that many could actually compete.

They had thought themselves clever by traversing the Woods, yet none of them knew of the predators lurking within it. The Felines and Canines were waiting for his signal whilst Mimir was scouting and making sure that none of them would flee.

Swoosh. Thunk. Swoosh. Thunk. Swoosh. Thunk. Swoosh. Thunk.

Every single arrow hit a target, and it took the Ironborn a grand total of fourteen deaths before the morons realized that they were being picked off.

Aegon sneered. 'Probably should not have killed the Farwynd guy already…'

Not that their awareness would help them anyway. He sat his bow aside as he jumped from tree to tree in absolute silence. His leather armour is carved with sound dampening, flexibility, and durability runes.

He signalled for Fenris to start roaring, sowing fear and discord amongst the reavers. 'They might not sow, but I sure do.'

He was now right behind them as he started throwing his knives rapidly from their backs, whilst they were all focused on the front, where Fenris was attracting their undivided attention.

They knew an archer was nearby, but the sound of a Hellhound was enough to taunt them to a degree where they seemed to have forgotten about his existence.

'Perfect.'

Two. Four. Eight. Twelve. Sixteen. Twenty.

"Shit, I missed one." He whispered slightly before he once more melded with the shadows and signalled for Hel, to rip one of their men apart. A task she completed to perfection, as he threw his last three knives with pinpoint perfection.

Fourteen had died to his arrows, twenty-three to his knives and one because of Hel. 'Thirty-eight dead. Sixty-two to go.' His cold amethyst looked upon them as if they were mere animals to the slaughter.

'That's exactly what they are. They can't even compare to the Ice Spiders we took out. They might have power in numbers, but the morons haven't even considered grouping together. Their teamwork is pathetic. No wonder they only know how to kill and r*pe peasants, women, and kids.'

He moved swiftly through the trees as he shot his last eleven arrows from his newly enchanted quiver. Unfortunately, he would not be able to heal fast enough if he made more than twenty-five arrows.

'Hmm. Fifty-one left. I guess I got to go in now.' His eyes looked calculatingly around the area, before a slightly condescending grin spread across his face.

He equipped his short sword at his belt and his bastard sword on the back. Whilst that would normally be impractical, it was fastened by highly flammable cloth, which would allow him to remove it without fanfare and intimidate his enemies at the same time.

His newly enchanted spear/glaive polearm hybrid was lying comfortably in his strong grip as he prepared where he would land and attack to sow the most chaos. He would attack as soon as the others had started. Freya from the West, Hel from the East, Fenris from the South, and Freke and Gere from the North.

Aegon would hit them from the centre when their attention was grabbed by his Beast Guard. He would personally cut a straight path through the southern part right until he reached Fenris.

His eyes flashed white, as he signalled for the attack to start in full force. The cursing Ironborn were looking around in absolute panic as they realized that they had lost half of their men, yet still had not seen anyone but a shadowcat and a monstrous-looking beast they could not identify.

"What the fook is this?!"

"We have to retreat!"

Spit. "Fookin' Craven. I'll fook you up ye cunt, if ye don shut up!"

"Find the archer!"

*ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAR*

The combined roars of all the beasts echoed throughout the entire Islands as every single soul in the forest shook in fear. They started tearing into the Ironborn with the rage of wild and threatened beasts, as Aegon landed silently in their midst, a change in the battlefield they noticed far too later.

His spear whipped around ferociously as he cut open the jugular of a disgusting-smelling man with yellow teeth. His gurgling made the men in front of him turn towards Aegon and their dance of steel and blood ensued.

Aegon danced swiftly around him. His footwork was nimble as a water dancer, and his every spear thrust was sudden and deadly as a viper.

"It's just a boy. KILL HIM!" roared one of the five who had encircled him. Fenris roared in rage as his mighty claws ripped a man to shreds and his mighty fangs tore the head of another.

Aegon smiled cruelly. 'You're already dead.'

He crouched smoothly as his spear cut off the legs of two men as they screamed in pain and fear. He grunted as one of them managed to graze him with the butt of his axe. The pain was almost non-existent because his tolerance was being improved upon constantly, but the interruption of his rhythm did annoy him greatly.

He retreated slightly before he ducked and weaved around the four arrows that flew towards the. A throwing axe was sent towards him as well, but his ritually enhanced kinetic vision allowed him to catch it by the handle.

With a whip of his hand, the axe managed to hit an enemy archer straight in the face.

'Die motherfucker.' His blood was pumping now. The threat of death was almost liberating in a sense. No more what-if scenarios. This was do-or-die and Aegon thrived in it.

He locked in combat with a skilful axe-wielder. Aegon moved around in patterns that made it impossible for the archers remaining to hit him. His eyes almost glowed as his aura emitted the bloodlust that had grown with every life he had taken.

The Ironborn froze for a split second, which was all Aegon needed to slash his side clean through. He grunted in pain as he tried to retreat with panic in his eyes. A red glow was the last thing he saw as the runes carved into the spear glowed with the new sacrifice claimed.

The hoofbeats were much clearer now, and Aegon's eyes flashed white once more, as he moved at his top speed towards Fenris. Only one managed to react to his attempt to retreat, yet his intervention only led to his imminent demise as Aegon's spear claimed another life.

He used the Ironborn's back to catapult himself onto Fenris's back and hit a retreat, just in time for the Mormont guards to ride into the clearing and massacre the last thirty men standing.

The coordinated attack was effortless, and Aegon could not help but admire the grace and efficiency of a cavalry attack against an uncoordinated infantry force. His eyes widened slightly as he realized the two riders in the front were Maege and Dacey Mormont. 'She Bears indeed.'

The riders had stopped in the middle of the clearing as they surveyed the number of corpses that did not look remotely close to what they had expected when he had told them about the attack through a letter. They had thought that their thirty men would have to fight a hundred, yet only 30 were still alive.

'The reinforcements were definitely welcome. My armour is not ideal for combat situations where I'm severely outmanned. Especially against weapons such as axes.'

He stiffened as he heard one of the 'dead' men move. Fenris thundered back into the clearing with Aegon on his back. The Ironborn was just beside Maege and getting poised to strike her down.

Everyone froze as the mighty Hellhound exploded into motion. Many wanted to move towards it in an attempt to protect their lady, yet before they could even manage to do anything, he was in their midst, and Aegon's spear whipped into motion, just as the Hellhound stopped.

The last raider did not even get to utter a sound before his head was liberated from his shoulders, and the rest of his corpse slumped to the ground.

One of the brave guards moved to attack, but he was disarmed by the lightning-quick spear. A commanding aura filled the clearing as Aegon's voice sounded out.

"Stand down. I am Jon Snow of Winterfell." He removed his blood-dripping hood as he gave Lady Maege and Dacey a winning smile. The guards straightened up, and the weapons moved down again. Their eyes focused on their lieges for further instruction.

"Well met, My Ladies." A bow of genuine respect followed. 'The way they crushed the skulls of those fuckers, was a particularly satisfying sight.'

Dacey lit up with a smile. 'She has grown a lot.' She had been a lanky tomboy only two years ago, yet she was definitely a budding beauty now. Deep brown hair and grey soulful eyes were shining brightly as she recognized him.

Maege's stern voice caught his attention quickly. "Jon. What are you doing here?" she asked with palpable concern in her voice.

He winced, as his mind quickly concocted a plausible lie. "I wanted to visit to look for a bear cub if you would allow it." He smiled brightly at the beautiful save, as he rubbed Fenris's large head. Freya, Hel, Freke, and Gere trotted into the clearing to show off his affinity with animals. Mimir had already grabbed his looting bad to search the ship for anything valuable.

The guards tensed at the fearsome line-up. "At ease, they are with me." That one sentence seemed to bring all of them immense relief. "You can claim their armour now. Everything is yours except for the weapons of the ones with an arrow or throwing knife embedded in their skulls. Those forty-eight weapons are mine."

They shivered at the implication of what he just said. That level of marksmanship was at the level of legend. Not what anyone of them would ever have expected to witness in their lives.

'My rituals are ridiculously more effective than I had expected. The combination of pinpoint accuracy, night vision, agility, and perfect balance in tandem with the manipulation of my enemies' fear… The outcome was frightening. Alas, the second they stepped into the woods, they signed away their lives.'

Maege laughed loudly. "Typical Beast Boy Snow, ain't that right, Dacey?" 'When did I get that nickname?'

Dacey nodded eagerly. "And it seems like it has gotten even worse! Uncle Jeor did mention them in some of his letters, but it's different seeing them."

Aegon smiled brightly at the mention of the newly appointed Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He missed the old gruff man and his dry humour. 'Seems the old bear likes writing about me, uh it warms my beautiful heart.'

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POV | Maege Mormont

Maege looked around the dead bodies and realized the number of dead bodies with arrows and throwing knives sticking out their vital areas. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked at the boy who had been responsible for the carnage. Her mind was running through multiple developments as she looked at the two children small talking in front of her.

The chemistry was obvious, and she could not help but smile ferally. He would make a fine husband for her daughter. Handsome as a god, Stark blood, and possibly Dayne as well, and he fought with a precision and cunning she had never seen before. Her eyes landed on the beasts assembled close by, and she was absolutely certain that he was a warg as well.

The match seemed better and better in her eyes.

She dismissed the guards despite their initial protests. She only needed to look at the Destrier-sized beasts before they relented and returned to their homes. They looked pretty satisfied by their harvest despite only getting half of the weapons, but then again, considering they were given the armours of all hundred men, they could not really complain. They had moved their bodies into a great pile at Jon's request as well.

It was amazing what a little bribery could do for a man's willingness to obey the commands of a young man such as the one in front of her. Something he was obviously well aware of.

'This boy is definitely a wolf. No matter how pretty the Dayne blood made him.'

She looked upon the pile of dead men as she asked him. "What do you intend to do with them?"

He looked at her, and for a second she stiffened slightly. "What do you know about the growth of Weirwood trees?" asked the Bloody Wolf, his leather armour drenched in the blood of his enemies, a sign of his prowess in close combat.

She raised an eyebrow. "Not much. They say The Children of the Forest planted the saplings and carved their faces."

He nodded slowly. "Most likely. An old text at Castle Black told much the same. Yet it also mentioned that the white wood was the bones of the men slain, and the red leaves are painted by the blood sacrificed to the Old Gods when believers are attacked by outsiders and are…" he paused. His eyes scanned them for their reactions before he continued. "Properly disposed of." A mirthless smile adorned his face as he turned towards the pile of bodies.

Dacey's mouth opened in shock, an exact mirror of Maege's own expression. He continued. "Some texts even mention that the lands where the new Weirwood has been raised will be prosperous and very fertile for twelve winters." He sighed.

"Blood sorcery, they call it in the South. Their useless gods forbid the practice. A practice which was the very foundation of the civilizations of the First Men, Ghiscari, Rhoynar, and even the Valyrians."

He tilted his head as he continued looking at the dead men. "The North Remembers, we like to tell ourselves." He turned towards them again and Maege realized that she and her daughter were absolutely transfixed by his words. Such was his ability to tell a tale. She had stopped breathing, because of the excitement she felt at his words.

"Lady Mormont. Do you remember?" he asked her. She stiffened. 'No.' The words would not even leave her lips.

His eyes indicated that he knew. His laughter confirmed her thoughts.

"You know… Magic in general bothered me for quite some time. Especially the idea of sacrifice. My father is well-known for his honour after all, and I could not help but think of the consequences of the practice." He whispered, causing them to lean closer to hear his every word. His body language and aura were enough to make them listen to him as if he were preaching the words of the Old Gods.

"But isn't sacrifice the foundation of our lives? Nothing comes for free, and everything is built on sacrifice. Whether that sacrifice is magical or mundane is inconsequential in the grand scheme of things." His words enthralling as they escaped his beautifully crafted lips. His voice was breathing life and truth into every word he uttered.

"Mundane sacrifice?" whispered Dacey, her eyes never leaving Jon.

He nodded, his hair coming alive with the motion of his hair. "When we train, we sacrifice our time. When we seek a Lord's protection, we sacrifice our freedom." His voice was rising as the words left his mouth.

"When we battle our enemies we sacrifice the lives of our men. Our old family members sacrifice their very lives every winter to buy time for their young." His voice reached a crescendo that shook their minds before it shifted rapidly to a soul-wrenching whisper. "And when we choose duty, we sacrifice love."

The silence was jarring as she gulped. A memory of younger days flashed before her mind. A lost love, an impossible love. She had a duty to her family and marrying a Lowborn would never have been accepted. Her friends died in wars and raids. Sacrifices that she had made throughout her entire life.

The truth of his words hit her hard. 'Haven't I been sacrificing things my entire life?'

"Our Ancestors have lived, fought, bled, and died for our futures. Everything we are… Everything we have… has been built upon their sacrifices. Magical and mundane."

He was relentless with his words. "Then, tell me. When such sacrifices are part of our daily lives… Why can't we sacrifice the men who seek to hurt us? Because of a Maester? A Septon? When did we become Andals, shunning our ancestors' traditions? Did we not break them at the Neck for 8000 years, because WE REMEMBERED?"

Her heart was beating rapidly in her heart as she looked upon the young man before her. Awe was all she felt as he tore into the changes that had transpired around her without her ever even questioning it.

"Torrhen Stark knelt before Dragons. Fire and Blood. The epitome of sacrifice. Not before shunners of our magic, our traditions. He knelt before magic stronger than his own." His head tilted as he looked them in the eyes. "Do you remember, or have you forgotten, oh Blood of the First Men?"

She asked, her voice brimming with anticipation. "Tell me. What is it that we have forgotten?"

An indecipherable light flashed before his eyes as he walked slowly towards the pile of dead men, his right hand moving towards a black and red pouch on his hip, with a red wolf drawn upon it. He grabbed a Weirwood sapling and pulled it out ceremoniously.

{Bones to earth, Blood to life. Death of my enemies, Prosperity of my allies} He chanted in the Old Tongue as the sapling grew roots into the men it laid among.

A gasp escaped her and Dacey as an explosion of Red and White happened before their very eyes. The roots of the sapling were sucking in nourishment from the dead men, and a brand new Weirwood tree was visibly growing before their very eyes.

A heat she had never felt in the North seemed to fill her body, and she shivered at the mesmerizing experience, she could feel happier days and the embrace of her family as she stood transfixed. The clearing came alive before her very eyes as a hauntingly beautiful Weirwood stood before her very eyes.

Slowly, she brought her hand to her face, and she realized that the beauty of what she just watched, had made her cry for the first time in years. Her breathing came in small gasps as her mind tried to comprehend the magic happening in front of her.

Movement from her left side brought her out of her thoughts as Dacey hugged Jon tightly, her arms thrown around his neck, as he pulled her close by her lower back. The smile on his face was tender, and Maege could not help but look between the new Weirwood and the two young ones. 'Maybe Dacey won't have to sacrifice love…'

"Twelve winters… Twelve winters of plenty on Bear Island. A sacrifice each year will keep the magic strong and your granaries full." Said the young man holding her daughter.

A conflicted expression on his face as he asked her.

"Lady Mormont, was it worth it?"

Her voice was thick with emotion as she answered. "It was worth it."

Her words cleared the conflict from his face, and his smile turned peaceful.

'He's a blessing.' Was all she could think as she looked upon him.

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A/N: Sooo. Aegon performed his first human sacrifice. A First Men ritual for fertility and prosperity. Using death and blood to breathe life into the earth. There is a morbid beauty to it.

There have been quite a lot of questions about his morality, hypocrisy, hesitancy, and actual ability to move people. I used Maege's POV to show how his abilities work on others. Even those who are as fearsome and stubborn as the Old She-Bear.

As some of you probably caught, he did not feel too good about it. That's why he asked that last question after it had been done. Confirmation that he was not turning into an evil psychopath if you will.

So, what do you think about it? Was it worth it?