The goal for the next chapter is 120 Power Stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait.
…
He clenched and unclenched his hands.
“The fight between you, your men and the Kingsguard.
I could have seen that from a distance.” He lowered his voice.
“Did you see me when your sister was dying?
Was I in the room?” …
The question was rhetorical and Ned seemed to know it.
He was staring at Clark with a growing fear, but still calm.
Clark pressed on as gently as he could.
“When you entered the room, Lyanna was lying in a bed of blood.
You put Dawn at the foot of the bed and greeted her.
She told you she wanted to be brave but she was scared.
She didn’t want to die.
You told her she wouldn’t.
You yelled at the girl in the room for water and a maester.
Lyanna stopped you, brought you close and whispered the secret you’ve been carrying ever since.
Promise me, Ned.
Promise me.” He leaned forward.
“I have no intention of telling this secret to anyone.
I’ll only say it now, just once for you so you know I speak true.” Ned didn’t reply.
His face was pale, but his eyes were bright.
Clark swallowed.
“You’re raising the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.
To the world, he is your bastard son, Jon Snow.
You’re protecting him from Robert’s wrath.
His real name is Aegon Targaryen, named for his Conqueror forbearer and his slain brother in King’s Landing.
You saw his brother and sister before you set out for Dorne.
In the Keep, bleeding through their shrouds.
Robert smiled.
Dragonspawn.” It was beginning to rain again.
Clark could see the drops splattering against the window.
If he wasn’t so tense, he would have rolled his eyes at the timing.
So cinematic.
“I say it again: I’ll never speak of this to anyone.
That recounting was just for you, so you’ll believe me when I say I know things I shouldn’t.
I have something much bigger to tell you.
Something concerning your future.” Ned leaned back.
His brow was glistening slightly.
Clark couldn’t blame him.
He was sweating too.
“Lord Reed says you’re trustworthy.” He traced his hand across the letter again.
“He’s very right about these things usually.
How did he come to trust you?” Clark shrugged.
“He dreamt about me.
He saw me coming up here to guide you.” “Because you see the future?” “One future.
Based on what I tell you and what you decide to do, things may proceed and be completely different from what I saw.
Or maybe nothing will change.
Maybe the universe refuses to let you go from your fate.” Lord Stark’s brow furrowed.
“The universe?” “Nevermind.
Listen, you are in great danger.
Or you will be, in a few years…I’ve said that already.
Sorry.
I…look, I’m just going to come out and say it.
The White Walkers are coming back.” Now there was silence.
Lord Stark remained seated.
The fear that built up during the story of the Tower of Joy was replaced by incredulity.
He didn’t laugh though.
“The White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years.” Clark sighed.
“Yeah, well, they’re coming back.
It’s shit luck for you…well, actually shit luck for your kids.
You didn’t worry about this from what I saw.” “What?” Okay.
I need to sit.
“I’m sorry.
I don’t know proper behavior for meeting with a Warden, but I’m going to use this.” Clark turned and picked up one of the chairs from the hearth.
He placed it in front of the desk and sat, his head in his hands.
He took a few seconds before looking up.
Ned’s bewilderment was back.
All right.
Here we go.
“I don’t know how much I should tell you.
The visions I saw of the future were spread across a decade.
We’ll be here all night if I tell you everything.
And if you decide to act on any of this, I’m certain quite a few details will become useless.
So here’s the short version of the visions.
Are you ready?” Ned’s mouth was slightly open.
He still managed to look quite dignified.
It must be a lord’s thing.
Clark clapped his hands together.
“All right then.
Years from now, the White Walkers are going to begin to show activities near the Wall.
Free Folk villages will disappear.
So will rangers from the Night’s Watch.
There’ll be more deserters.
The Walkers start to show.
Odds are they’re probably already showing themselves to the Free Folk beyond the wall.
Maybe the northernmost tribes.
Starting the recruitment for their army.
In the future I saw, this contributed greatly to their Army of the Dead.
They became wights, reanimated corpses to act as soldiers.
Over one hundred thousand of them.
Lots of dead people up there.
“Now that would be devastating for the North and the rest of the Kingdoms on a regular day.
You….well, you and your…Oh god, you…well, you’re…” He immediately shut up.
A big information dump was not the best way to go about this.
He had a few years to go before Baelor.
That reveal could come at another time.
“The other part of this is you.
Humans.
The different kingdoms.
There’s going to be a war that will rip apart Westeros.
Many of the best warriors will die.
Food storages will be depleted.
All the usual outcomes of armed conflict.
This war will take place on the tail end of the longest summer in living memory, which will probably be after this winter.
That summer will turn into the coldest winter.
And that winter will bring the Walkers and their army.
The North was in poor condition.
The living managed to win, but at a steep cost.
Before the Wall came down, they had already lost so much to each other.” Ned leaned forward.
“The Wall came down?” Clark shrugged.
“Section of it.
At Eastwatch.
Large enough to let an army of at least a hundred thousand corpses walk through.” “How?” “I can’t tell you yet.
I’ve omitted many details for what I hope are good reasons.
Saying how the Wall fell doesn’t feel necessary at this point.
You’ll need to secure the North, reach out to the Free Folk, negotiate a truce, whatever you need to do.
I’m no military man and you know this country better than I do.
But the real threat is people.
You will lose more of your family to conniving men than you will to the monsters beyond the Wall.
If I earn your trust and you like me enough to keep me around, I’ll try and keep all of you alive and away from treachery.
Away from the connivers.
Keep the North healthy enough to prevent a total massacre.
“Then again, if you want me to fuck off, I can do that as well.
This is your fight.
I just wanna help.” He hoped in his future conversations with Ned Stark that the man wouldn’t take long pauses after every sentence.
Not that he blamed him.
A skinny weirdo turning up knowing a devastating secret and pronouncing doom for all had to be off-putting.
“Why?” said Lord Stark, the rumble of his voice barely above the flames.
“Why do you want to help us?
Help my family specifically?” Clark sat back, sighing.
“Throughout the visions, in between all the terrible things that happened to your family, I grew familiar with you.
Not now, of course.
Most of the visions are of your future.
I saw your children grown.
Your home.
Your private moments.
Of which I won’t speak.
I grew to like your family.
You weren’t the only ones.
I saw others throughout the seven kingdoms and across the sea.
I liked them too.
However, the North is the frontier to the White Walker threat and the North will be battered heavily by war and will be ill-prepared for the cold.
I want to protect people I care for.
“I also am looking for a new home.
Despite the bleak future I described, I like the North.
I’ve felt at home since I’ve arrived.” Ned’s gaze turned even more inquisitive.
If that were possible.
“Where is your home?” Clark tried to take Annag’s advice and come up with a better lie.
Unfortunately, being in front of a man whose honesty and honor had been the death of him prompted Clark to the truth…or at least, not to lie.
“I can’t explain it,” he said.
“I don’t know how.
All I can say is that I’ve traveled across spaces that don’t exist to be here.
I came to Westeros and I learned that my old world is forever closed to me.
So this has to be my new home.
I hope it will be Winterfell or somewhere in the North, but if not…” Clark trailed off.
He tried to read Ned’s face, but it was closed.
“I don’t know anyone.
I don’t have anyone.
Everything I’ve known is gone.
So if you decide I’m too dangerous to be alive, I suppose you could kill me with little to no hassle.
No one will come looking for me.” Ned stood up.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.
Clark breathed.
“Howland Reed trusts you and I trust Howland Reed.
He recommends you stay here.” “Do you believe me then?” asked Clark, not daring to hope.
Ned rubbed his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You were a phantom at my sister’s death.
You heard her final words.
You saw my infant nephew.
You shouldn’t have been able to see that.
Perhaps that means you do see a future that we could avoid.
“But what if you’re wrong?
You’re talking of events and persons and wars that won’t come into play for many years.
You’re giving vague rumblings of connivers and monsters.
You won’t even tell me who died.
How do I work with that?
How do I prepare?
How am I to keep you here under that arrangement?
As a resident oracle?
There are wood witches for that sort of thing.” Ned paused.
Clark’s stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.
He hadn’t eaten anything for several hours.
“Are you hungry?” Clark nodded.
“Very.” Ned walked around the desk, standing in front.
He picked up Clark’s knife off the desk.
“I don’t know what arrangement I can make for you.
Do you have any skills?” “Archival work.
I can read and write and be dumb muscle.
I sing well too.” Ned almost chuckled.
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow.
I’m not promising you can stay, but for tonight, I offer you food, a bed and a bath, should you want it.” Clark stood up.
“Yes, Lord Stark.
I would like that very much.
Thank you.” Ned nodded.
“Then, let’s go down for supper.
You’ll be my guest.
Put the chair back.” …