CHAPTER 5

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.

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