Chapter 9 Secrets
I am 15 chapters ahead on my patreón, check it out if you are interested.
https://www.patréon.com/emperordragon
_________________________________________
Chapter Nine: Secrets Beneath the Crypts
The godswood was still, bathed in the golden hues of late afternoon. The heart tree stood solemn and watchful, its red leaves rustling faintly in the breeze. Ned Stark sat beside the dark pool, the ancestral greatsword Ice resting across his lap.
The sword was dark and cold, its edge sharp enough to sever flesh and bone. Blood from the day's execution clung to the steel, staining it crimson. Ned dipped a cloth into the pool's icy waters, methodically wiping the blade clean. The motion steadied his thoughts, calming the weight of duty that pressed on his shoulders.
The man he had executed was a deserter from the Night's Watch—a grim reminder that the realm's peace was always fragile.
As the last smear of blood faded from the blade, Ned heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He looked up to see Jon Snow approaching, his expression nervous but resolute.
"Jon," Ned greeted, his voice warm. "What brings you here, lad?"
Jon hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. "I... I need to tell you something, Father."
Ned's brows furrowed slightly. "Come, sit with me." He gestured to the spot beside him.
Jon sat down, his small hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. "The old gods are whispering to me," he said quietly.
Ned blinked, surprised. "The old gods, eh?" He smiled faintly, thinking this was the sort of fancy children often dreamed up. "And what are they whispering about?"
Jon's face was serious, his grey eyes intent. "At first, I didn't understand. But now I do. They're trying to tell me something important."
Ned humored him, though he didn't believe a word of it. "And what is this great secret the gods have shared with you?"
Jon took a deep breath. "I've been reading the old books in the library—about our ancestors and the crypts. Some of them believed there's a hidden vault down there, filled with treasures. They searched for it, but no one ever found it."
Ned smiled indulgently. "How about after supper, you, me, and Benjen go on a grand adventure to find this vault of riches, eh?"
Jon shook his head, his voice firm. "I don't want to find it for riches, Father. I want to find it for glass."
Ned's smile faltered. "Glass?"
Jon nodded earnestly. "When the Boltons sacked Winterfell the first time, they destroyed the glass gardens. It took decades to rebuild them. When Winterfell was sacked a second time, the Starks of that time hid all the glass they had in the vault to protect it. The old gods want me to find it."
Ned stared at the boy, caught between disbelief and curiosity. Jon's conviction was unsettling, but his words carried a strange weight.
"Very well," Ned said, humoring him. "After supper, we'll see if the gods have led you true."
---
Later that evening, torches flickered along the stone walls of the crypts beneath Winterfell. Shadows danced across the ancient tombs as Ned, Benjen, and Jon descended into the cold, echoing depths.
Benjen grinned, his breath visible in the chill air. "So, Jon, where's this vault of wonders?"
Jon led them with quiet determination, his small figure resolute. "Here," he said finally, stopping before the grave of Theon Stark, also known as the Hungry Wolf.
Ned frowned, his breath misting in the cold air. "Theon Stark? He was a warrior, not a builder. I doubt he'd be guarding a vault."
Benjen chuckled. "Maybe he hid his appetite down here."
Jon ignored the jest and approached the stone statue atop the grave. He knelt beside it, his hands tracing the worn surface of the stone.
"What are you doing?" Benjen asked, curious.
Jon didn't answer. His fingers found a seam near the statue's left leg. With a determined grunt, he pushed the leg to the side.
A deep rumble echoed through the crypt.
Ned and Benjen stepped back in astonishment as the wall behind the grave shuddered, then swung inward like a door, revealing a hidden chamber beyond.
Dust and stale air wafted out, carrying the scent of ancient stone and secrets long buried.
The three of them stepped inside, their torchlight flickering against piles of gold, silver, and priceless treasures stacked high along the walls.
Benjen let out a low whistle. "By the gods..."
Ned's eyes widened as he surveyed the vault. "The Hungry Wolf's spoils from Andalos," he murmured. "But this... this is more than just gold."
In the center of the chamber were stacks of almost-clear glass, perfectly preserved despite the passage of time.
Jon's eyes gleamed with triumph. "The glass," he whispered.
Ned knelt beside one of the stacks, running his hand over the smooth surface. The glass was strong and clear—far better than anything Winterfell currently had.
Benjen laughed, clapping Jon on the back. "You actually did it, lad! The gods really were whispering to you!"
Ned stood, his expression a mix of awe and concern. He looked at Jon, who was beaming with pride.
"You've done something remarkable, Jon," Ned said, his voice thick with emotion. "This glass could build new gardens, strengthen Winterfell itself." He placed his hands on Jon's shoulders. "You have given us a gift beyond measure."
Jon's smile widened, but Ned's heart was heavy with unease.
What do the old gods want with this boy? he wondered.
The discovery was miraculous, but it raised questions he wasn't ready to face.
Ned straightened, his face firm. "We close the vault now," he said. "No one speaks of this to anyone. Understood?"
Benjen nodded, his playful demeanor gone. "Aye."
Jon's voice was steady. "Yes, Father."
Together, they sealed the vault once more, the ancient door grinding shut with finality.
Ned sent Jon off to bed, watching the boy's dark hair disappear up the stairs.
"To my solar, Benjen," Ned said grimly. "We need to plan what to do with this discovery."
As they ascended from the crypts, Ned couldn't shake the feeling that something far greater than treasure had been unearthed tonight. And Jon Snow, his remarkable and mysterious son, was at the heart of it all.