Trusting Someone

Edward stirred from the edge of sleep, the sound of distant footsteps fading beyond his chamber door. The words had reached him not long ago—Lord Eddard Stark wished to speak with him. He rose from the bed, the fur-lined blanket slipping off his bare chest, and made his way into the adjoining chamber, one the servants of Winterfell called a "bathroom," though it was little more than a stone-walled alcove with a basin of cold water and a washcloth.

He peeled off what remained of his tunic, stained faintly with blood from the night before. Though he'd cleaned himself after returning, he wasn't certain if the scent of blood still clung to his skin. Dipping the cloth into the icy water, he scrubbed with methodical precision—chest, neck, arms, even beneath his nails. The cold bit at his skin, but he welcomed it. Pain reminded him he was alive.

Satisfied, he reached for a small knife from the wooden stand near the basin. With practiced ease, he trimmed the stubble from his jaw, dragging the blade slowly across his skin. No nicks. His hands were steady. Once done, he braided his shoulder-length hair tightly, pulling it back from his face.

He dressed in a simple linen shirt and roughspun trousers—clothing fit for a traveler, not a lord. There was no need for finery. The truth of a man was not in his garb.

When he stepped out into the corridor, Maester Luwin was already there, arms folded in his sleeves, eyes sharp beneath his cowl.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked, voice calm.

"I've come to escort you," Luwin replied, his tone polite, but there was an edge of caution beneath the civility. "You're still unfamiliar with Winterfell's halls."

Edward offered a nod. "Lead on."

As they walked, Edward took in the surroundings. Stone corridors gave way to open courtyards where the morning sun cast long shadows across the ground. Servants bustled about their duties—carrying buckets of water, folding linens, hauling firewood. Blacksmiths hammered steel, and across the yard, Stark soldiers trained with spears and swords, their shouts echoing off the walls.

Edward watched them with quiet curiosity, noting their stances, their discipline. All of it was familiar. All of it reminded him of home, though his home was half a world and a lifetime away.

At last, they reached the chamber where Lord Eddard Stark waited.

The door was thick oak, reinforced with black iron bands. Luwin knocked once before pushing it open. Inside, the room was warm with firelight. Tapestries adorned the stone walls, and a large wooden desk sat near the hearth, covered in scrolls and letters sealed in wax.

Ned Stark stood behind it, hands resting on the edge, his expression solemn. His grey eyes lifted as Edward entered.

The room was quiet, lit only by the soft flicker of candlelight and the crackle of the hearth. Outside, Winterfell slumbered beneath a thick blanket of snow, but within Ned Stark's solar, tension lingered in the air like mist over the godswood pond.

"Close the door behind you, please," Ned said, his voice calm but commanding.

Edward did as he was told, the door clicking shut softly behind him. He remained standing near it, hands relaxed at his sides but his eyes sharp, alert. Ned stood by the window, his back turned, looking out into the night.

After a long pause, Ned finally turned. "Sit."

Edward moved across the room and took a seat, his posture straight, not too relaxed, not too stiff. He knew a confrontation when he saw one.

Ned regarded him for a moment, his grey eyes studying Edward like a man trying to read a page written in a foreign tongue.

"I sent some men to the Wolfswood," Ned began. "To the area where you were found."

Edward's expression remained unreadable. "So? What did they find?"

Ned walked toward the table and picked up a piece of parchment, though he didn't look at it. "A mile from where we found you, they came upon bodies. Several of them."

"Bodies?" Edward asked, feigning surprise. "Whose?"

"Bandits," Ned replied grimly. "At least, that's what my men believe. Judging by their clothing, weapons, and the condition of the remains."

He leaned forward, resting both hands on the carved wooden table. The flickering candlelight cast deep shadows across the stone walls of his solar. His face was calm, but his voice carried the edge of command. "Explain. From the beginning."

Edward sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting to the hearth as he gathered his thoughts. Gods, I didn't want it to come to this, he thought. I need someone who won't immediately label me a madman.

Ned watched him closely, his patience thinning. "You hesitate like a man with secrets. If you had nothing to do with those men, then speak plainly."

Edward drew in a breath and met the Warden of the North's eyes. "What I'm about to say will sound insane. But I need your word that it stays between us. Not Maester Luwin. Not even your lady wife."

Ned's face remained still, unreadable. "Say what you must. I will hear the truth, however strange."

Edward reached inside his coat. With slow precision, he drew out the Eye of Eternity—a small, metallic sphere etched with shifting glyphs, faintly glowing in the dim light. He placed it on the table between them.

Ned's eyes narrowed, but he didn't touch it. "What is that thing?"

"It's called the Eye of Eternity," Edward said quietly. "Where I come from, it's a relic left by a long-lost civilization. It can open portals, manipulate time... reshape reality, in a way."

Ned raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Edward continued, his voice lower now, tinged with regret.

"I was tracking a man. He stole another artifact, something just as dangerous. He used it to rip holes between worlds. I caught him, we fought. But during the struggle... the Eye malfunctioned. Next thing I knew, I was here."

"Bedridden in my hall," Ned murmured, eyeing the object with suspicion.

"Yes. It was a rough landing."

Silence settled between them, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Ned leaned forward and picked up the artifact, turning it over in his hand. It was cold and impossibly light.

"This is not the work of Valyria. Nor the First Men. Not even the Summer Isles have such craft."

Edward nodded. "It's older than all of them. Older than your world, even."

Ned slowly set the artifact back on the table. "You expect me to believe you come from another world? That this... thing brought you here by mistake?"

"I don't expect it. But it's the truth."

"A convenient tale," Ned said, his voice colder now. "The kind a clever man might invent to hide dark deeds."

Edward leaned forward, eyes hard. "If I were lying, I wouldn't have shown you the Eye. I wouldn't have told you anything. I came to you because I don't want more blood on my hands. I need help."

Ned studied him for a long moment. Then: "And the bodies in the Wolfswood?"

Edward sighed. "yesterday night i went to wolfwood to collect this artifact from that person only to found it missing after tracking it it lead me to the the bandit i tried asking them nicly but they didn't comply so i had to kill them."

"So you killed them."

"I didn't have a choice. They would've sold it. This thing... in the wrong hands, it can destroy entire cities."

Ned exhaled through his nose, brow furrowed. "You left Winterfell without being seen. How?"

Edward allowed a small smirk. "Let's just say I'm good at going unnoticed."

"That is not comforting."

"Didn't mean it to be. I'm not your enemy, Ned."

"You expect me to believe that? After sneaking out, returning with dead men on your trail, and telling me tales of other worlds?"

"No," Edward said. "I expect you to judge me, like you said. Judge the man in front of you. I came back. I could've run."

A long pause followed. Then Ned stood and walked to the window, staring out at the darkened courtyard below.

"What do you want from me?"

Edward stood too, tucking the Eye back into his coat. "Time. Resources. Access to whatever books or records you have. If there's anything in this world that even resembles what powers the Eye, I have to find it."

"And what will you do if you do find it?"

"Try to go home."

Ned turned to face him, arms crossed. "And if you can't?"

Edward shrugged. "Then I find a way to do some good while I'm here."

Ned's gaze was heavy, unreadable. Then, with a quiet sigh, he motioned to the door. "Come. Walk with me."

They stepped into the hall. The cool air of evening greeted them, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and pine. Torches lined the walls, their flames casting long shadows.

They walked in silence for a time. Then Ned spoke again. "You know what kind of danger your truth puts me in?"

"Yes."

"If you were anyone else, I might have had you hanged already. Or locked away until you confessed to something more believable."

"I know. That's why I came to you. You're not like most men."

"Don't flatter me. I'm not easily swayed."

"It wasn't flattery. Just honesty."

They paused near the godswood. Ned turned to him, eyes hard. "If this story gets out, there will be panic. Men will want your knowledge. Some will want your death."

"That's why I'm trusting you."

"And what assurance do I have that you won't bring more danger to my gate?"

"You have my word. I didn't ask for this. I just want to go home. But while I'm here... you have my sword. My skills. Use them, if you need to."

Ned studied him again, silent. Then finally, he gave a small nod.

"Very well. You will remain in Winterfell. I'll grant you access to the library. Speak to no one of this—not Luwin, not my sons, not even Arya."

Edward smirked. "She already suspects I'm not from around here."

"Then tell her nothing more. I won't have my daughter dragged into this madness."

Edward raised a hand. "Understood."

"And swear to me—on whatever gods you hold dear—that you will protect my family."

Edward placed a hand over his chest. "You have my word."

Ned looked away toward the ancient heart tree in the distance. "Let us pray to the old gods that your story remains between us."

The two men continued walking, the walls of Winterfell towering around them, each step bound now not by trust alone, but by a dangerous secret neither could afford to share.