Ever since arriving in Westeros, he had never breathed more freely.
It almost didn’t seem important whether or not Howland believed him.
He was here.
He’d made it.
…
Knowing however that that was a crazy thought and he did want Howland to believe him, he gave a short bow.
“Lord Reed?” Howland Reed nodded and gestured for the chair in front of him.
Clark crossed and sat down.
Howland grabbed a pitcher from the table.
“Would you care for some wine?” he asked.
“I’d offer to join you, but I’m afraid I’ve already drunk more I’m comfortable with this evening.
Having to greet so many in one night.
However, you’re welcome to some if you’d like.” Clark eyed the pitcher.
“You’re not too drunk to speak with me, are you?” Howland considered it briefly.
“I don’t believe so.” “Hmm…” His eyes traveled to the others still in the tent.
“I’ll have to decline your offer, I’m afraid…I don’t feel good drinking another man’s booze when he’s not partaking.
‘Sides, I’ve already taken too much advantage of your people’s hospitality.” “Booze?” Clark suppressed a wince.
“Drink.” “Hmm,” said Howland.
He placed the pitcher down.
“That’s fair…your name is Tiresias, yes?” “Yes.” “I’ve never heard of such a name…or such an accent.
You are from Essos?” “That’s right.” It was very warm in the tent.
The relaxed feeling was disappearing quickly.
“Annag told me that you seek my counsel…and that you hold my secret.” The others in the room were still, looking between Howland to Clark.
He cleared his throat.
“I do.” Howland didn’t seem perturbed.
He yawned, obviously tired from the day’s journey.
Clark knew he had to act quickly.
“Lord Reed…would it be possible to speak to you alone?” “Absolutely not,” The crannogman from earlier stepped forward.
His face was red.
“You have some nerve demanding a private meeting with Lord Reed.” “I’m not demanding anything.
I’m asking.” “Asking, eh?
And how do we know you’re not some Frey assassin?
Hired to infiltrate the Neck and kill our Lord?” He turned to Howland.
“My Lord, let us take him away and question him.
Not waste anymore of your time.” “I took his knife away, Harn,” said Annag, venom in her voice.
“And I brought him.
You think I’d endanger Lord Reed like that?” “There are other ways to kill without a knife, Annag.
You led him straight here!” “Lord Reed,” said Clark loudly, cutting the argument down.
Howland didn’t seem disturbed by it though.
His green eyes continued to gleam.
“I’m sorry for bringing discord into your camp.
It was not my intention.
I truly wanted to talk to you and I thank you for giving me your time, but this isn’t enough.
What I have to say to you, I can’t say in front of anyone else, not even your closest confidants.
If it would satisfy your guard, you may bind me and I’ll speak to you then, but only if we’re alone.” He turned to Harn and the other guard.
“I’m no threat.
And besides, I’d like to think I’m a little too handsome for a man of House Frey.” Harn moved to speak again, but Howland raised his hand and there was silence.
The brazier crackled along with the familiar nightsong of cicadas and frogs from outside.
Finally Howland leaned back in his chair, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
“Harn, Annag, Null, leave and give us enough space around the tent to ensure privacy for Tiresias and I.
He won’t be bound.” Harn blanched.
“My Lord, I protest this.” Howland nodded.
“Your protest is noted.
Now leave.
I’ll call if he stabs me.” Harn forced down his reply, bowed and left.
The other guard, Null, left too.
Annag followed them, leaving only the Lord of the Neck and Clark in the tent.
Howland waited for a minute and then spoke at a normal level.
“Harn, Null, I changed my mind.
Come back and bind this man immediately.” Clark looked to the tent’s entrance.
No one came.
He turned back to Howland Reed, who seemed quite content.
“Satisfied?” he asked politely.
Clark nodded.
“Yes, thank you.” Howland gestured toward the pitcher.
“Are you sure I can’t offer you some wine?” “I’m sure,” said Clark, leaning forward.
“You might need more though, for yourself when you hear what I have to say.” “Why’s that?” Howland asked lightly.
“Does it involve my secret?” Clark discovered he’d been holding his breath.
He exhaled.
“Before I talk about that, I wanted to ask you some questions if I may?” Howland blinked blearily.
“All right.” The brazier crackled for a while before Clark was able to open his mouth and speak.
“You’re a greenseer, yes?” “Yes,” said Lord Reed quite casually.
“Not the most proficient one, I’m afraid.
Enough to recognize talent and gifts greater than my own.” “Do you know who I am?
Have you seen me?” Howland’s tired gaze turned slowly into a peer.
“Are you not Tiresias?
Are you not from Essos?” “Have you seen me?” Clark hoped the repeated question didn’t come across as abrasive, but Howland didn’t seem offended.
“No.
I have never you seen before today.
In dreams or otherwise.” Clark leaned back in his chair.
He was disappointed on one level.
He could use one less person to explain himself to.
On the other hand, it was a relief to know that his arrival in Westeros was hidden from seers.
However, Howland Reed wasn’t the most powerful greenseer.
There was still chance that the Three-Eyed Raven beyond the Wall knew of his arrival and his knowledge.
And if that was true, it was certainly possible that the Night King knew as well… He shivered involuntarily.
Those were worries for another day.
The Lord of the Neck was still before him and he wasn’t done.
“So…is Tiresias your real name?” “Yes,” said Clark, beginning to believe it himself.
After all, if he said so, who was there to contradict him?
For all intents and purposes, it was his real name.
He continued.
“I meant it when I said to your people that I was no enemy.
I hope I could be your friend eventually but right now that’s all I can offer.” He swallowed and lowered his voice.
“Lord Reed, I think it’s time we talked about your secret.” Howland crossed his fingers, relaxing them on his stomach.
“All right.
Which secret do you know?” Okay, Clark or Tiresias, once again…here we fucking go.
“The secret that is currently being hid in Winterfell.
A trueborn dragon in bastard wolf’s clothing.” There was no movement from the crannogman.
He sat still.
Only his eyes seemed to gleam more brightly and Clark could hear his breath hitch.
He took a breath himself.
“Lord Reed, I have no intention of revealing what I know to anyone else, except to Ned Stark if I can manage to speak to him.
There is no leak to this.
No one else knows.
How I found out, no one else will be able to.” The Lord leaned forward.
“How did you find out?” His fingers felt clumsy.
Clark looked down.
He clenched and unclenched them.
“I’m no greenseer.
I don’t read fortunes.
But I do know things.
My knowledge is limited, but I still know.
I told you Jon Snow’s truth in order to prove that I know things I shouldn’t.
And the other things that I know are coming are much worse than a secret Targaryen heir.” Every sign of weariness was gone from Howland Reed.
“What other things?” he muttered.
“I don’t know how much to tell you…I’m sure you must understand that sometimes things need to play out as they’re meant to.
Usually when someone tries to subvert catastrophe, they end up creating worse outcomes.
And however much people may suffer, things will come to balance in the end.
That’s the future that I saw for this world.
A return of magic from the East.
Wars that will bleed the realm dry.
Monsters that will come down from the North and monsters that will emerge from the people, noble and smallfolk alike.” He brought his gaze up to Howland’s.
“But when I saw what happened to this country, I wasn’t here.
I wasn’t around with the knowledge I have today.
I couldn’t have saved the people I desperately want to save now.
And I wanted to ask you…what I should do?
What should I do with the knowledge I have?
Should I attempt to change things for the better?
Should I just leave…
or will you kill me to keep the secret and spare me the trouble of deciding what to do?” …
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait.