Children Of The Forest

38 AC

Beyond the wall

Third person Pov

The next morning, under a sky the color of frozen steel, preparations for departure began. Theon Stark addressed Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg and the assembled giants, his voice carrying across the valley. "We will return in seven days," he announced. "Prepare your people for a journey south. We will find you a new home within the North, a place of safety."

Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg rumbled a response, a deep sound of understanding. The giants began to stir, a sense of anticipation in their massive movements.

Turning to Ragnar Lothbrok, who stood nearby with a contingent of his wildlings, Theon inquired, "Ragnar, you and your people have lived in these lands for generations. You know the old ways, the hidden paths. Do you know where the oldest heart tree is?"

Ragnar frowned, his weathered face creased in thought. "I don't know about the oldest, but I know there's a heart tree bigger than any I've seen beyond the haunted forest, Magnar Wolf. Why do you need to go there?"

Theon said, "I think we need to meet our ancestors' allies."

Ragnar gave a puzzled look. "Ancestors' allies? You mean the children of the forest? They don't exist anymore. We haven't seen them in centuries."

Theon said, "Lead me to these sacred groves, Ragnar," he urged. "If the Children of the Forest still exist, perhaps they dwell in such places. It's a chance we must take."

"Aye," Ragnar replied, nodding slowly. "I know of paths that lead to such groves, places deep within the haunted forest. They aren't easy to find, and we risk angering whatever spirits linger there, but if that's your wish, Magnar Wolf, I'll guide you."

And so, with the giants getting ready for their move and the faint hope of finding an ancient ally guiding their steps, Theon Stark, Ragnar Lothbrok, and their combined groups turned their backs on the giants' valley and began their trek towards the mysterious sacred groves deep within the haunted forest.

Days of trekking through the haunted forest's oppressive gloom finally led them to a clearing bathed in an ethereal light. There stood a heart tree of immense size, its ancient carvings a swirling tapestry on its massive trunk, its branches reaching like gnarled limbs to the sky. Crimson sap wept from the carved face, staining the white wood like old blood. This was the oldest heart tree, its very presence radiating an ancient power. Theon could only hope the allies he sought still lingered in this sacred, timeless place.

The serene atmosphere shattered violently as Theon and his party cautiously stepped into the clearing dominated by the colossal heart tree. A searing ball of fire, trailing smoke and crackling with raw energy, suddenly hurtled towards them from the shadows beneath the ancient boughs. The air crackled with heat, and the suddenness of the attack sent a ripple of panic through the assembled wildlings and Wolfpack alike.

Theon Stark Pov

Their heads snapped upwards, eyes scanning the dense foliage of the ancient heart tree's lower branches, searching for the source of the sudden, fiery assault. When the figure finally revealed itself, perched with an almost unnatural stillness amidst the gnarled limbs, a wave of stunned disbelief washed over Ragnar's wildlings and Theon's Wolfpack alike. Jaws dropped, eyes widened in utter astonishment, and a collective gasp escaped their lips except for Theon.

A small, lithe figure perched amidst the ancient branches, its skin the color of moss and bark, its eyes glowing with an eerie green light, was the source of the fiery projectile. It was undeniably one of the Children of the Forest.

Ragnar, standing beside me, his weathered face etched with utter disbelief, finally found his voice, his usual booming tone reduced to a hushed whisper. "By the old gods… what in the frozen hells am I seeing, Magnar Wolf?" He stared, transfixed, at the small, otherworldly being in the tree. "That… that's one of the wee folk? The legends… they're real?"

"Aye," I confirmed, my gaze fixed on the Child in the tree.

Before I could elaborate, the small figure spoke, its voice like the rustling of leaves in a forgotten tongue, yet somehow understandable. "Why have you come here, fate breaker?"

A chill ran down my spine at the title, do they know of my other life. "I am here to speak with you," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in the air, "and with the Three-Eyed Raven."

The Child's glowing green eyes narrowed, studying me with an ancient intensity. After a long, silent moment, she moved with an uncanny grace, leaping from branch to branch before landing silently on the forest floor. "Follow me," she instructed, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying an undeniable authority.

We followed the Child of the Forest, her movements swift and silent, as she led us to the base of the colossal heart tree. There, concealed by a curtain of thick, ancient roots, was the entrance to a cave. The air within was cool and damp, carrying the scent of moss and something else, something ancient and earthy. Deeper we ventured, the flickering light of our torches casting dancing shadows on the cave walls, which were adorned with strange, spiraling carvings. The passage twisted and turned, leading us further into the heart of the earth, until we emerged into a vast cavern. In the center, amidst a tangle of pale, root-like tendrils that pulsed with a faint, inner light, sat a man. His skin was as white as the weirwood roots themselves, and his eyes, when they opened and fixed upon us, held the weight of centuries. As we approached, he slowly rose, his movements stiff and deliberate, as if his limbs were more accustomed to the embrace of the ancient wood than to the act of standing. This had to be him. The Three-Eyed Raven.

The man's gaze, ancient and knowing, settled upon me. "I am the Three-Eyed Raven," he stated, his voice a low, rustling murmur, like the wind sighing through the leaves of the weirwood.

Curiosity gnawed at me. "What were you called before you became the Three-Eyed Raven?"

A faint, almost melancholic smile touched his pale lips. "Before the weight of ages settled upon me, before my sight transcended the mortal realm, I was known as Thormyr. One of the free folk, like Ragnar beside you." He gestured towards the wildling king with a nod. "But that was a lifetime ago, a self I shed as a snake sheds its skin. I am not Thormyr anymore." His gaze sharpened, focusing intently on me. "But enough of my past. The threads of time have become… tangled since your arrival, fate breaker. Many paths have diverged. What was once certain is now shrouded in mist. I can no longer say with unwavering certainty whether the prophecies will unfold as they once were foreseen."

I met his gaze, a flicker of understanding in my own eyes. "Prophecies are fickle things, old man. They twist and turn, finding their own way. What is meant to happen will happen, whether you see it clearly or not. Our choices may alter the path, but the destination… the destination often remains the same."

The Three-Eyed Raven's ancient eyes, like pools reflecting a starlit sky, fixed on me. "You wish for us to come with you?" he murmured, his voice echoing softly in the cavern.

"Aye," I replied, my voice firm, unwavering in my conviction. "The Long Night is coming. The dead march. We need every ally we can find, every source of ancient power. The Children of the Forest, your knowledge, your magic… it could be the key to our survival."

A small figure stepped forward, her skin like woven leaves, her eyes glowing with a fierce, emerald light. It was Leaf, the leader of the Children of the Forest who had guided us here. Her voice, though soft, held a sharp edge of protest. "Why should we come with you, fate breaker? Beyond the Wall lies the realm of men. For centuries, your kind has hunted us, felled our sacred trees, driven us into hiding. Why would we willingly walk into the jaws of the same beast that seeks our extinction? We found sanctuary in the shadows; why should we abandon it for the uncertain promise of your protection?"

"Centuries ago, Aye," I conceded, my voice low but earnest, meeting Leaf's intense gaze. "But the world is changing. The old grudges, the old wars between our peoples… they pale in comparison to the threat that now looms. The dead do not discriminate between human and Child of the Forest. They will consume us all. We are facing an enemy that has slept for millennia, a darkness that could extinguish all life in Westeros. We need your knowledge, your magic, the very things that made you retreat into hiding. Staying here, isolated, will not protect you when the icy tide washes over the Wall."

Leaf's emerald eyes narrowed, studying me with an ancient suspicion. "And what guarantee do we have of your protection? Men are fickle, their promises as fleeting as the summer snows. Once the threat of the dead has passed, what will prevent you from resuming your hunt?"

"My word," I stated firmly, my gaze unwavering. "The word of House Stark. We have always honored our alliances. This is not a temporary truce born of fear, Leaf. This is about survival. If we fall, you fall with us. If we stand together, we have a chance. I understand your fear, the scars of the past run deep. But I am asking you to look beyond that, to see the greater danger. We need to learn from you, to understand the old magic, the ways to fight this enemy that we have long forgotten. Staying hidden is no longer an option. The darkness is coming for everyone."

Ragnar stepped forward, his presence a solid weight beside me. "Magnar Wolf speaks true, Little One. We free folk have warred with the North for generations. But we see the cold wind rising. We see the dead walk. Old hates mean nothin' when the ice dragon breathes. We're bendin' the knee to fight this. And if the Starks break their word after, well… we'll deal with that then. But for now, survival's the only fight that matters."

Leaf remained silent for a long moment, her gaze shifting between me, Ragnar, and the Three-Eyed Raven, who watched with an ancient, knowing stillness. The fate of a fragile alliance hung in the balance, weighed against centuries of fear and mistrust.

"You called me fate breaker," I reiterated, my voice resonating with conviction in the cavern's stillness. "Then hear this, Leaf. Through the long and bloody history of House Stark, there has never been a Lord of Winterfell who broke his word. Our oaths are as binding as the ice that forms our northern lands, as enduring as the ancient stones of our keep. I, Theon Stark, give you my solemn vow. As long as there is a Stark ruling in Winterfell and the blood of the First Men flows through our veins, no harm will come to you or your people at the hands of the North. You will have our protection, our respect. Your ways will be honored. This I swear before the old gods, and by the memory of my ancestors who forged alliances with your kind in the dawn of time."

Leaf remained silent for a long moment, her gaze fixed on me, unwavering. Her emerald eyes seemed to peer into the very depths of my soul, searching for any hint of deceit or falsehood. The air in the cavern crackled with anticipation, the fate of a potential alliance hanging precariously on her decision. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a slow nod rippled through her small frame. "Very well, fate breaker," she said, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying the weight of her people's decision. "We will come with you. We will lend our knowledge and our skills to your cause. But your oath… remember your oath, Stark. The survival of my people rests upon it."

"Call me Theon," I replied, a small measure of relief washing over me. The first hurdle had been overcome. "And how much time do you and your people require to prepare to move?"

"We do not carry the burdens of men," Leaf replied, her gaze steady. "Our preparations are swift. We can depart with the rising of the sun on the morrow."

"Will you be joining us on this journey, Three-Eyed Raven?" I asked, turning towards the ancient being who remained near the base of the weirwood roots.

His ancient eyes, milky white yet seeming to see beyond the confines of the cave, settled upon me. "Aye" he murmured, his voice a low rustle. "The roots hold wisdom, but the branches reach towards the changing winds. My place is now with you, in the unfolding of what is to come."

A sense of profound significance settled in the cavern. With the Three-Eyed Raven's assent, a powerful ally had joined our cause. True to Leaf's word, the Children of the Forest moved with an almost ethereal efficiency. Small, lithe figures flitted through the shadows, their movements silent and purposeful as they gathered what little they carried. There were no material possessions in the human sense, but rather small pouches of herbs, intricately carved wooden tools, and smooth stones that seemed to hum with a faint energy. The air in the cave shifted from one of tense negotiation to one of quiet, determined preparation. The journey south, with these ancient allies, was about to begin.