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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 41: An Icy Heart
🕑 Added 2025-07-26 14:00:07 +0000 UTCChapter 41: An Icy Heart
123 AC, Winterfell
She described it as such, as there was the skeleton of a man sitting on it, holding a white sword which seemed to faintly release a blueish glow, and was also impaled into the ground. Rhaena didn’t need help to realise who this was. They have found the remains of Bran the Builder.
Rhaena couldn’t help but stare at the skeleton before her. This was Bran the Builder, one of the greatest heroes in the history of the Seven Kingdoms, the man who was said to have built the Wall itself, with the help of giants and the Children of the Forest. She knew, from her time with the Potters, that the world was far bigger than she ever imagined, that some of the stories she was told were, in fact, true.
And yet, it was different to see the body of one of these legends, especially a very old one indeed. As she looked at the skeleton, which was remarkably preserved given how old it was, other than the glowing sword, the man was wearing a dark bronze circlet, and she noticed a wolf medallion around his neck, much like the one she had taken from the previous room.
Still, the cavern itself was massive, with the tree itself starting from deep in the ground, and a small narrow bridge of stone, which led towards the remains of the deceased founder of House Stark, sitting in the throne carved within the tree. She looked down and saw small, glinting black things at the bottom. It took a few seconds for her to recognise that it was an entire field of spiked Dragonglass.
She looked at the rest of her companions and noticed that the Potters seemed focused on the tree itself for some reason, or more specifically, the crimson light it emitted from its roots. She didn’t blame them. Rhaena knew that they weren’t from Westeros. They didn’t know how meaningful this was.
Lady Daphne’s gaze then got up above the Builder’s throne, making Rhaena’s eyes widen as she recognised what she was seeing. The skeleton wasn’t sitting exactly on a throne, but what seemed to be a massive carved mouth, akin to that of a Heart Tree, presumably done by the Children of the Forest. Looking further up, she could almost see dents above with the rest of the features of the face, even the closed eyes with dried red sap falling down like tears.
Grenn, on the other hand, seemed just as transfixed and walked forward, only for Lord Harry to speak up, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The boy seemed in shock by the words and stumbled forward, only for spikes of Dragonglass to fall exactly where he would have fallen if the sorcerer hadn’t grabbed him by the cloak and pulled him back to safety.
Grenn gaped at the spikes that almost killed him, “You asked me about Dragonglass earlier. There were weapons made of it in the vault. I was almost skewered by one.”
“The Children of the Forest often used it as weapons, and sometimes even focused on their magic. What most people don’t know is that the Others, the White Walkers, have a fundamental weakness for the material. Unfortunately, I imagine that getting through the swarms of unending wights, to kill one of them with it is quite tricky, that’s without their rumoured inhuman strength and speed. Or else, the Long Night would have been a far easier fight to have.”
“Who are you? How do you know these things?”
“You already know who I am. My name is Harry Potter, this is my wife, Daphne, and this is Rhaena. As for who we are, we told you that we are travellers of sorts. We explore ruins, specifically ones of magical nature, trying to understand more of the world around us.”
Grenn’s hand seemed to shake. “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I haven’t lied so far… Also, if I wanted you dead, I’d have let you get killed by the trap, kid.”
Finally, the logic seemed to have convinced the boy, and he turned back towards his ancestor, “What is this place? How does no one know of it?”
Lord Harry prepared to speak up, only for the medallion in Rhaena’s hands to shake and glow. She noticed that the medallion around the skeleton’s neck seemed to do the same. The sorcerer turned sharply towards her and asked, “Did you take something, Rhaena?”
He was frowning at her, and she sheepishly took out the wolf medallion, which seemed to shake in her hands, but most importantly, was the blood on the medallion, her blood. She had accidentally cut herself while holding it too tightly. It was a very small wound at best, but it seemingly had made the medallion shake. Suddenly, the entire cavern started to shake, and Lady Daphne grabbed her and jumped forward on the narrow bridge, with Lord Harry following them. Of course, that was when a giant pillar of Dragonglass fell down, destroying the bridge.
Thankfully, Lady Daphne waved her arms, and the giant Heart Tree moved slightly, with a few of its branches grabbing them all during the fall, and slowly depositing them on a new lower bridge made from one of the branches of the tree. She looked at her medallion, which kept on glowing and released a burst of frost around them.
However, the medallion flew from her fingers, into a small dome of glowing circles with strange symbols, floating above Lord Harry’s hand, the same sorcerer who was glaring at her for the first time, “Rhaena, I remember explicitly telling you not to touch anything if you wished to come with them.”
Looking back, the young girl remembered the rules that she had promised to follow should she wish to go on her adventure, “I’m sorry.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Lady Daphne interjected, and instead gave her husband an odd look, receiving a nod in return.
Grenn, on the other hand, seemed incensed, “You stole this? This belongs to the Starks… By the Old Gods and the New, this is their crypts. This is where they bury their dead.”
Rhaena looked down, tears slowly growing in her eyes. She had ruined everything, hadn’t she? She had broken her promise to the Potters and stolen something. She had forgotten that this wasn’t some abandoned place, like the Dragonmont, where she could take anything she wanted. She didn’t think of the Starks, really, or their legacy. She had been selfish.
“Later,” Lady Daphne replied, “This isn’t over, not yet at least.”
The boy gave her a confused look, “What do you mean?”
“This entire cavern is a trap, a last measure from Bran the Builder, who used his own body as bait.”
“A trap against what? His own descendants?” Grenn replied with a small, hysterical tone.
“I’d like to think that the man who warded the entire crypts against being reanimated and still channels magic from whatever lies beneath the tree, into the body of each King of Winter, wouldn’t want to kill his descendants. No, he did it against something else, the White Walkers most likely.”
“But it’s just a story…”
Lady Daphne gave the boy a severe look, “One does not build a structure like the Wall to keep out savages and cannibals.”
Her husband continued, looking at the floating necklace which Rhaena had taken previously, “There was some kind of energy stored inside. Given the reactions, the medallions act like some kind of warning signal, likely against the energies of the Others, quite a clever trick, I admit; it should even work against reanimated wights since the magic itself is the same. I do wonder how they got the energy, though, trapping one perhaps? Anyway, after so long, the medallion was somewhat unstable, and Rhaena’s blood, which is Valyrian in origin, seemed enough to hold enough magic to destabilise it. The energy was released, and the trap activated, which explains the frost.” He looked at where the frost released itself, and froze completely, “Oh! We need to get out of here and very quickly.”
They barely had any time to move, until hundreds, if not thousands, of odd symbols glowed on the walls of the cavern. Suddenly, everything became far hotter, heat coming from the base of the Heart Tree, seemingly growing with every pulse.
Lord Harry raised his hand and released massive glowing circles filled with different symbols, seemingly fighting the original symbols. Rhaena gasped as she looked at the skeleton and saw it stumble forward. Above its form, the tree had shifted, its mouth looking displeased, and its eyes open. It almost seemed to be moving, only for Lady Daphne to leap unnaturally forward, and cut her hand, and touched the tree, stopping it from entering.
However, she could not stop the skeleton of Bran the Builder from jumping down towards the branch that she had conjured, his glowing sword rising, ready to impale them. Grenn tried attacking it with his bronze sword, which was cleanly cut through by the corpse’s sword.
Thankfully, the boy was able to dodge away with skill, showing that he wasn’t boasting when he claimed that he wished to be a guard, even if he looked a lot more skilled than she expected. However, prodigy or not, he could not fight without a weapon. Rhaena’s eyes widened, and she threw the Valyrian Steel dagger that she found in the Dragonmont towards the boy, “Grenn!”
He fumbled catching it, but his eyes widened as he instinctively used it to parry the spell. A loud clang ran through the entire room, more akin to a ringing, really, which released a pulse of energy that almost sent them flying out of the wooden bridge.
Grenn got up quickly and picked her up. “Where did you get Valyrian Steel?”
“Are you seriously asking me this when you’re fighting the fucking corpse of Bran the Builder?”
The boy’s reply, whatever it was going to be, was completely swallowed by a loud whistling. What seemed to be glowing lights seemed to appear from the snarling mouth of the Heart Tree, which slowly morphed into people, akin to ghosts really, each one wielding a sword, ready to charge at them.
The Skeleton got up, using the glowing sword as a crutch somehow. It was prepared to charge, only for everything to freeze completely, as she heard a loud yell, “Enough!”
Lord Harry jumped down, holding some sort of glowing stone that froze them. The circles of magic slowed down, spinning softly. Lady Daphne spoke up to him, “You stopped the collapse?”
“It’s stable for now,” he replied, “But I need to maintain it. I could cannibalise the network to do it instead of me, but I don’t think this is a good idea in the long run, especially considering what this place is for.”
“You don’t have to. The key is in the sword.”
Lord Harry slowly walked towards the frozen skeleton, but Grenn, for some reason, walked forward. “What are you doing?”
“Me? Absolutely nothing,” the sorcerer replied seemingly in innocence, still walking towards the sword.
“This is Ice, the famed sword of Bran the Builder, after which the Starks' ancestral sword is named.”
Lord Harry hummed and raised an eyebrow, “It is? I have to admit that I have never quite seen anything like it. The medallion’s metal as well. They’re seemingly made of the same thing, almost like alchemically treated metals, given how long they held their enchantments for. But that sword is a marvel. Absolutely beautiful, and far more complicated. It’s also definitely not man-made or made by the Children of the Forest. How interesting.”
“We need to leave this place be,” Grenn spoke up almost in a demanding tone.
“Yeah, quite the pickle, you see. If we leave this place, the trap will continue, and this entire place will fall into unreality. The collapse itself will almost destroy Winterfell completely, so, as you see, this isn’t exactly an option.”
“How?” The boy asked, “I don’t understand.”
“Well, you see how I said that this is a trap, I have to admit that it’s pretty ingenious, if I say so myself. In case Winterfell fell to the Others, they would come here, with their wights unable to come forward thanks to the very powerful anti-necromancy wards. They will come to take what’s beneath the Heart Tree. They will fight through the defenders of the castle, wielding the weapons in the vault, until no living being remains. The moment they enter, they will find themselves facing traps of Dragonglass, followed by a collapsing bridge, and fighting the combined might of all the wraiths of the Kings of Winter, untouched by their magic, not really their bodies, but remnants of what remains of them in the Weirwood network, given form. The skeleton itself acts as an anchor to the wards, a control spell, a part of the tree’s memory, etched into bone, over the years of proximity. A guardian forged from memory, not flesh, a final sacrifice against the enemies of life itself. Quite poetic if I say so myself.”
He turned towards the small army of frozen ghosts, ready to attack them, before looking up, “However, this is nothing but a distraction, as this entire cavern is sealed away from the world, and leaks into unreality, or as I call it, the void between worlds, taking the Others and the Heart Tree with them. A very clever trap, to be honest. It was in the name, wasn’t it? This wasn’t where Winter fell, after all, the White Walkers still live, but this was where Winter would fall, the last trap from the Age of Heroes. One that might have worked, if it wasn’t for Rhaena’s little accident. I’m actually quite impressed. I think that there are very few beings that could ever find their way out of this trap, and fortunately, I am one of them. I stopped the spell from progressing, but it’s still there, powered by whatever is beneath the Heart Tree. The moment I stop holding it… Well, Winter wouldn’t be falling here anytime soon.”
Rhaena spoke up, feeling slightly guilty, “What’s beneath the Heart Tree that the Others would want to take?”
Lord Harry didn’t answer at first. His eyes were on the tree, on the mouth above the throne, and the faint red light pulsing beneath it, steady and unnatural.
“Sometimes, what’s left behind isn’t just a trap or a weapon,” he said. “Sometimes... It’s a gift. Something given out of sacrifice. A symbol of love. A beating heart, still echoing long after the body is gone.”
Rhaena swallowed, watching him closely. He knew. She could tell. Whatever was beneath the Heart Tree, he’d known about it the moment they stepped inside. But he wasn’t going to tell her. Not now. And maybe not ever.
She looked down, guilt twisting in her chest. She had broken the rules. Broken their trust. And this was the start.
Grenn, still tense, glanced at the glowing symbols illuminating the cavern. “We’re trapped, then?”
“Oh, not quite,” Lord Harry replied, “It would be foolish for someone to make such a trap without a way to deactivate it, a key to the way out, if you will.”
“The key is in the word,” Grenn muttered before walking towards the skeleton of Bran the Builder and carefully taking the sword from his grasp, as if it were the most delicate thing ever. Surprisingly, the moment that he touched it, the skeleton let go of it.
As if he were bewitched, the boy walked up the branch of the tree, before stabbing the sword into the hole where the Throne of the first King of Winter once lay. Slowly, but surely, the wraiths walked back into the maw of the Heart Tree, whose features relaxed with a groan, and eyes closed peacefully.
The skeleton of Bran the Builder animated as well, before kneeling towards Grenn and turning into dust, leaving only the wolf medallion behind and his crown.
The glowing symbols disappeared from the wall, and Lord Harry removed his spells as well, and with a wave of his hands, the bridge rebuilt itself once more.
Silence reigned, with the only crimson light coming from the root of the tree in pulses. Lord Harry looked smug for some reason, “I should have also mentioned that only a descendant of the first wielder of the sword could ever hold it after him.”
“How long have you known?” Grenn asked solemnly, having let go of the sword
Lord Harry waved his hand, and the crown and medallion floated towards him, “There were many signs, of course. You’re a bit too educated and knowledgeable, too well-trained when you fought, the wards that stop trespassers into the crypts didn’t affect you… If I had to say when I know, I’d say immediately. There’s magic in your line, kiddo, and believe me, it’s pretty recognisable.”
Rhaena gasped at the realisation, “You’re saying that he’s a Stark?”
Grenn looked down for a few seconds before wearing the wolf medallion around his neck and taking the floating crown into his hand, “My name is Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell. Or at least, I will be in a year if my uncle Bennard doesn’t usurp me.”
AN: I’m sorry. I was a bit out of sorts today, as I wrote this. A million things piled on, and the last week was pretty hard on me, so I kind of rushed this chapter. The idea was to give some history towards Winterfell, as in the fact that this entire place was meant to protect what’s beneath the Heart Tree (I made a hint that Harry knows, but I’ll expand on it later since I didn’t think it would fit this chapter very well). As I re-read it, I thought that something felt wrong, I guess. I’m not sure about having Cregan fight the skeleton of the Builder, since it feels like necromancy is the Other’s thing. Or maybe, it’s the wraiths. I do have some explanation for it, which I can expand on in the next chapter a bit. I’ll take a proper look at the chapter later tonight. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
Marius Petrauskas
nice
fireball77
That was a nice plot twist
