Lord Stark, the Warden of the North, had built a small sept in Winterfell so his wife could pray.
It was a beautiful building, filled with the scent of incense, with seven stained-glass windows that cast colorful light inside.
However, when Catelyn Stark brought her family and friends inside to pray, the sept became crowded and noisy.
Still, she reassured herself that it was a happy kind of trouble.
After Edmure finished reading two chapters from The Seven-Pointed Star, he excused himself and left the sept.
As night began to fall, he returned to the heart tree in the Godswood.
Brynden Blackwood was waiting for him alone with a bag of butchery tools and a mule tied to the tree.
Brynden was the tall, thin son of the Lord of Raventree Hall, and he looked both excited and nervous.
“Edmure, have you ever performed a blood sacrifice before?” Brynden asked.
He paused for a moment before adding, “We rarely do this in Raventree Hall.
Even my father has only done it a few times.” Edmure had changed into simple travel clothes: a plain shirt, thick wool trousers, a leather jacket, fur boots, and a warm sheepskin cloak.
“This is my first time,” Edmure replied.
“I’ll consider it practice.
I’m sure the Old Gods won’t mind.” Edmure felt grateful for the blessing he had received from the Old Gods, and his calm voice helped ease his friend’s anxiety.
Both young men put on greasy leather aprons and long gloves.
Brynden held the mule steady while Edmure swung a heavy hammer into its forehead, knocking the animal unconscious.
Edmure then drew a sharp knife, found the artery in the mule’s neck, and thrust the blade in.
Warm blood sprayed out, soaking the roots of the weirwood tree and melting the snow beneath it.
Next, Edmure sliced open the mule’s stomach.
Struggling through the terrible smell, he pulled out the animal’s internal organs.
“Brynden, help me hang these on the branches,” Edmure said, handing the organs to his friend.
“Hurry, before they freeze.” Brynden looked pale, but he didn’t want to show disrespect to the gods.
He carefully took the organs and began hanging them on the lower branches of the heart tree.
Edmure used a long branch to hang the heart and lungs higher up in the tree.
He couldn’t help but think that the Faith of the Seven had spread so easily because its peaceful, beautiful ceremonies were much more appealing than these violent Old Gods sacrifices.
Just then, a man carrying a massive greatsword walked into the Godswood.
He watched the sacrifice from a distance and only approached once they were finished.
Brynden knelt down to pray.
Hearing the man approach, he looked up and greeted him politely.
“Good evening, Lord Eddard.” “Hello, Brynden,” Ned Stark replied.
During his ten days at Winterfell, Edmure had noticed that Ned treated Brynden Blackwood with special respect.
House Blackwood was related to the Starks by blood, and both families shared a belief in the Old Gods.
“Good evening, brother-in-law,” Edmure said, kneeling near the tree.
“I hope I didn’t break any northern traditions.” “You did fine,” Ned said, laying his greatsword across his lap as he knelt.
“Some ancient northern customs are better left in the past.” Edmure looked at the giant sword.
It was as long as a man, wide, and dark as smoke, with a sharp, cold edge stained with blood.
“That must be Ice, the famous Valyrian steel sword,” Edmure noted.
“A weapon worthy of the Kings in the North.” “You flatter me,” Ned replied softly.
“And the Kings in the North are ancient history.” Ned grabbed a handful of snow to wipe the dried blood from the blade.
“What did the man you executed today do?” Edmure asked.
“Why not sacrifice him to the Old Gods instead?” From his dream with the Three-Eyed Crow, Edmure knew the Old Gods were losing their power because fewer people worshipped them.
Ned stayed silent.
Brynden looked at the bloody animal organs in the tree, turned pale, and stood up.
“Lord Eddard, Edmure, it’s getting cold.
I’m going to head inside.” With that, he left them alone.
“He committed robbery and murder,” Ned said coldly.
“He didn’t deserve to join the Night’s Watch; death was his only option.
But we do not sacrifice men.
If I used criminals as sacrifices, corrupt lords would accuse innocent people of crimes just to sacrifice them.
Some brutal old traditions were banned in the south, but people still remember them in the North.” Edmure turned to look closely at his brother-in-law.
“Like the Right of the First Night, Lord Stark?” Ned was surprised by Edmure’s tone.
He spoke with the authority of an equal, not like a teenager talking to his elder.
“People say you spent too much time in the Vale,” Edmure continued.
“They say you have the face of a wolf, but the soft heart of an eagle.
They say you care too much about honor, unlike the ruthless Kings in the North from the past.” Ned listened quietly as Edmure named famous, cruel Stark ancestors from history—like Theon Stark, who fought endless bloody wars, and Brandon ‘Ice Eyes,’ who froze slavers to death in dungeons.
“But I disagree,” Edmure said.
“You aren’t cruel like those old kings, yet you are still the clear leader of the North.
Your fairness and justice are what keep this vast land united.” If anyone else had said this, Ned would have dismissed it as flattery.
But over the last two weeks, he had grown deeply impressed by Edmure.
The young lord was popular with both nobles and commoners.
He trained hard, shared his wealth, hired great teachers for his companions, and treated his allies with genuine respect.
His visit had already brought valuable trade agreements to the North, including plans to sell weirwood.
The people of Winterfell genuinely liked him, praising his kindness, intelligence, and jousting skills.
Edmure had even managed to tame a wild, hot-tempered gray stallion that the stablemaster hadn’t been able to train.
Using that horse, Edmure had defeated nearly every opponent in the practice yard.
Ned realized that his fourteen-year-old brother-in-law was exceptionally talented, skilled, and politically smart.
He carried himself like a true ruler.
Ned looked calmly into Edmure’s eyes.
“Lord Edmure, now that it is just the two of us, tell me what you really want to say.” ——————————————————