The Ghost of High Heart

As Lord Beric Dondarrion pushed him up the hill, Eddard closely watched his surroundings, the guards around him, both his own and those belonging to Beric's Brotherhood without banners. He did not know precisely why they were going to the top of his hill, nor who it was that Beric said wished to meet him.

However, despite Willas' protest and his own reluctance, Eddard went all the same.

He did not know if he was walking into a trap, but he could not describe it, the feeling within him. There was something here, something that made his bones ache, he just knew it. He was possessed by a need to go, had felt it from the moment he came here, but was something he could no longer ignore.

"Are we walking into a trap, Lord Beric?" Eddard questioned, never taking his eyes off his surroundings, trying to spot any sign of enemies hiding in wait.

"Do you not trust me, Lord Eddard?"

"It is difficult to know who to trust these days, Lord Beric." He replied simply. "Everyone has their own agendas and whereas in the beginning, the loyalty of some men could be assured, now everyone has changed sides. Their loyalties shift from one King to the next, it is difficult to tell friend from foe these days. So which are you, Lord Beric? Friend or foe?"

"A friend," Beric assured, though Eddard took little comfort from it.

He had trusted Lord Baelish after all and that had plunged the entire realm into chaos, ripped apart his family and forced them all to undergo hardship that he had tried and failed to protect them from. Eddard had always believed in the good in people, working under the belief that by showing kindness and placing his trust in someone, naturally, they would return that kindness and trust.

It was clear to him now, that was not the way this world worked and he could not help but curse himself for being so naive. Because of him, his wife and sons were missing, his daughters, shaken to the core and his son, forever changed and haunted by the decisions he had been forced to make. Sansa and Arya were the only two that resembled their old selves, but it was clear they had been hardened by what they had undergone. Robb was forever changed, the boy he had been, nowhere to be seen and lost. Eddard feared to see what had become of Bran, Rickon and Catelyn. Nor did he know what had become of Jon, would he be the same or different from everyone else?

"So you say." Eddard's response was sharp, Beric frowning lightly as they began to crest the hill.

There, greeting them was an old, short woman, a gnarled black cane by her side as she rested against the trunk of a tree. Her skin was pale and wrinkled, hair as white as snow and eyes a deep red in colour that seemingly stared right through them all.

"Lord Eddard, I must ask that your men stay here while we meet with her." Beric requested, Eddard looking at him, before nodding his head, giving the order to his men as Beric did the same to his own.

Eddard then looked back to the old woman as Beric began to push him towards her. "This is who wished to see me?" He questioned.

"It is," Beric answered. "The Ghost of High Heart, I do not know her real name nor where she comes from. But I know of what she can do, the mysterious powers she wields. She foretold of the War of Five Kings, though at the time, I did not believe her words, not fully. Be careful though, with what you do with the words she speaks. She speaks in riddles, only telling part of the truth and not the entirety of it."

Nodding his head, Eddard clasped his hands together, the two of them coming to a stop before the woman. It was only then that Eddard realise that the woman was not sitting against the tree, instead, she was standing, resting her back against it. She was small, incredibly so, no larger than three feet tall.

"You wished to speak with me, Ghost of High Heart?"

"I did." The Ghost responded, her red eyes unnervingly never blinking once as she stared at him. "Lord Eddard Stark, a man destined to die, yet still alive. Now you wander the world, unbound by the shackles of fate, just like your son. Two destined to die and yet, still alive."

Eddard said nothing in response, frowning deeply as his fingers tightened. He could tell when he was meant to die, in that dungeon of Kings Landing, or perhaps, executed at the hands of Joffrey. The fact he had gotten out of there alive had been a miracle, but what Eddard did not know, was when his son was meant to die?

Nor which son she was speaking of.

"Is that all you had to say?" Eddard pressed, looking at Beric slightly.

"Nay." The Ghost shook her head. "My dreams have changed and it is all due to the father and son that still live."

Eddard scoffed. "Dreams? You had me come to you in order to speak of dreams?"

"I dreamt of a stag, its horns buried into a wolf and shedding its skin to reveal a golden lion. I dreamt I saw the lion and the wolf clashing as a stag upon a field of flowers is struck down by shadows revealing a burning stag." Her words were like riddles, and Eddard beginning to understand what Beric was saying. "A Kraken that rose from the depths to drag a wolf into the ocean. A wolf with its skin flayed, entering into blue towers. That was what I dreamed, but now they have changed."

"Do you know what she is speaking of?" Beric asked, his voice alluding that he already knew.

It didn't take long though, for Eddard to understand. "The War of Five Kings."

"As it should have gone." Her words were sharp, leaving no chance of a misunderstanding.

"Then my son, Robb was meant to die in the blue towers of House Frey?" Eddard realised, having spent many a time as he scoured the Riverlands for Lord Baelish, familiarising himself with the sigils of each house. The blue towers of House Frey were ones he had studied closely and he knew what she was alluding to instantly, but the flayed skin, that confused him. "And the wolf, killed by the stag that revealed itself to be a lion? That was me?"

Beric nodded his head. "Yes, I believe so myself. But as she said, it was how the war should have gone, things are different."

"Two dead men, still alive in this world," Eddard muttered, looking to the Ghost of High Heart once more. "Then what do your dreams show you now?"

"There is no beginning nor end, only an image, a single moment." She said. "Three dreams I have dreamt and each I awoke from the terror. I dreamt of a crowned wolf devouring the world covered in ice and fire, a girl whose heart was as dark as shadows with a face that forever shifts and changes at his side. I dreamt of crowned wolf wielding two swords of brilliant light that battles against the night. I dreamt of a wolf, with skin as pale as the snow atop his head a crown of ice like the beings that kneeled before him and when his eyes open, the world freezes."

The Ghost of High Heart looked at him and when he did, there was the first hint of emotion that he had seen from the woman, fear.

"You have a choice before you, Lord Eddard." She spoke, the fear never once subsiding from her gaze that never once wavered. "There are two, two who those that came before have chosen to place upon the board. But one must be bound by shackles once more, you must choose, whether to be bound by those shackles or to bind the other instead."