Chương 20: Settling the Myths

The tunnel beneath the Wall stretched out before us, a hall of ice. To most it might have seemed cold and foreboding, but to me it felt as though the Wall itself were now more alive than when I'd first passed through it. Ice shards glimmered along the walls with every step, flanked on either side by the giants and Thenns. With each step forward I felt lighter, as if I were some legend out of the Age of Heroes, leading a grand procession.

My mount crunched the frost beneath me, the sound echoing sharply through the cavern-like passage, while the Thenns and giants and their mammoths followed at my side, their heavy steps sending a low rumble through the walls. Jon rode to my left, shoulders tense, eyes filled with wonder as he took in the massive silhouettes filling the tunnel. Theon rode to my right, leaning back in his saddle, lost in thought.

Ahead of us, the faint flicker of Castle Black's torches drew my attention back to the North, and to the game I'd now changed forever. As we spilled into the courtyard, the air thickened with pine and the sharp sting of snow. Night's Watch brothers lined the walls and the yard, their black cloaks stark against the white landscape, faces caught somewhere between awe and wariness. Benjen waited near the gate, snow dusting his cloak, his smile wide and warm.

Beside him stood Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, broad shoulders unbent by age, his steady gaze fixed on me with a respect I could feel in my bones, his crow on his shoulder muttering "Robb Stark, Robb Stark, Stark, Stark" over and over. Then the Thenns strode in, bronze armor and weapons glinting under the torchlight, heavy furs draped around them.

Wildlings, yes, but no mere rabble like the scattered clans Mance would soon gather to himself, and with the giants towering in behind them, the whole procession felt like a living myth. Even among the Night's Watch, I saw more than a few black brothers' eyes go wide with wonder.

"Robb," Benjen said, stepping forward, his eyes looking at the wound on my face before, his voice began cutting through the murmurs.

"You've brought a host straight out of the songs. What you've done here alone has already made you a Northern legend — one House Stark, and the rest of the North, will remember for ages." I swung down from my horse, feeling the weight of every stare, and gripped my uncle's arm speaking loudly so all could hear, not just my Uncle.

"Aye, Uncle. We're here to forge a better future for the North, and to restore what many thought was lost. Starks and Giants bound together again — a symbol of our past that won't be forgotten again just like the wall my great ancestor and the giants built together." As I spoke, a line I'd always liked came to mind, and I raised my voice even more for the rest to hear.

"Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire." I turned to address the black brothers and my own men both.

"The Old Gods are with us, as they always were — stronger than ever, and always watching. We will not let ourselves forget the traditions and legacy of our past, as First Men, and as Northmen." I finished it with a shout, and I could see the weariness leave their eyes, replaced by awe, then something like passion. Benjen gave me a knowing look, silent, but proud. Mormont approached, heavy footsteps packing the snow, eyes never wavering.

"Stark, you've done what few could — wildlings and giants bent to your will, brought south without a drop of blood spilled. I never doubted you'd manage it, but to do it this quickly, and in such a tale-worthy fashion, is remarkable." I straightened, meeting his gaze.

"Free folk, and Northmen now — but thank you, Lord Commander. My father and I had been working toward this for some time. I know it must seem quick from where you stand, though it hasn't felt that way from mine I assure you." I chuckled.

"But they've sworn allegiance to me, and I'll see that they keep it." He grunted, approval flashing across his weathered face.

"You've got the steel for it, lad. The Watch stands to gain from this too." A grizzled ranger nearby muttered, "Giants south of the Wall — thought I'd have to die before seeing that." His tone carried disbelief and grudging respect in equal measure. A younger ranger piped up, "Those old tales weren't lies after all," only to earn a sharp cuff from the older brother beside him.

"Quiet, you green fool. Only a Stark could pull this off — and that's Robb Stark, nephew to our own Benjen Stark, First Ranger, heir to the North, son of Lord Ned Stark, who once helped bring down the mad dragon king himself." I swallowed a grin that nearly split my face — fear, wonder, and respect tangled together with whispers of the Old Gods' chosen. A brew I suspected would only keep growing around me. Mormont turned to Benjen, voice dropping.

"Your nephew's a rare one, Stark. A gift for leading men, for turning foes into allies. Seems the North will be in good hands again — if only my own son had turned out more like your Robb." His voice trailed low at the end, and I noticed his grip tighten on his sword. Benjen's grin sharpened.

"Aye, Jeor. Ned's calm and his sense of duty with martial skill, Catelyn's poise and her gift for people — seems he's got the best of both." A grizzled steward, beard flecked with ice, added gruffly, "Lad's got the whole Wall talking, that's certain. Hope he keeps those giants in line — wouldn't want to be the one fighting them if this goes wrong." Mormont shot him a look, but the man just shrugged, unrepentant, and wished us well as we left, with the whole of Castle Black watching us go.

With the Wall behind us, we wasted no time passing Molestown and Queenscrown, angling into the Wolfswood and toward Long Lake. A few days later after reaching Tumbledown Tower we cut further north to break from the woods near Winterfell. My father was waiting ahead — I'd sent Hedwig on with a message for him to meet us half a day out, on our way to the Stony Shore, where we'd finish the pact and take our new vassals' oaths in full.

I rode at the front, Manny keeping pace beside me, his trunk curling in rhythm with my steps. Our bond was new, but already felt strong. Behind us the giants numbered one hundred and sixty — more than I'd dared hope still lived, though still only a small fraction of what their people had once been, women and children among them. Their enormous forms were a sight the North hadn't seen in an age. Their future now rested on my shoulders, and I meant to see their kind thrive rather than fade any further.

The Wolfswood opened around us, pines clawing at the sky, roots twisting beneath the snow. After days of marching we reached a broad clearing, half a day out from Winterfell's walls. My father stood beneath an ancient, gnarled heart tree, cloak snapping in the wind, Stark banners flapping on either side of him. His proud grey eyes met mine as I led the Thenns and giants forward, their steps falling into pace with mine until I dismounted before him.

His gaze caught almost at once on the freshly healing cut along my cheekbone, worry and alarm crossing his face in the same breath, though he held his tongue on it for the moment, saving whatever he meant to say for when we were alone.

"Father," I said, gesturing to the two leaders.

"This is Styr, Magnar of the Thenns, and Magmar, chief of the giants. They've agreed to swear allegiance to House Stark, and to honor the contract we sent them, sealed before a heart tree." Ned's gaze swept over them, hard but fair. He surprised even me by answering in his own newly practiced Old Tongue, voice a rough hammer against stone.

"I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. You have sworn to my son, and now you will swear to me. I shall grant you land, and guest right. Break faith, and you will face not just our steel, but all of the North. Keep it, and no house will ever threaten you." Styr stepped forward first, bald head catching the light. He hesitated only a moment, glancing my way before dropping to one knee, bronze clinking.

"We swear, Stark. The Thenns will serve you, by the Old Gods." The giants came next, kneeling one by one, furs rustling, heads bowing low. Magmar spoke for them, his voice a slow quake.

"Stark… we kneel once more. The Old Gods witness a bond forgotten, made anew, by the kings of winter." I watched, breath caught, at the sight of over a hundred giant's children, women, and men — living legends — kneeling before Ned Stark, alongside some twenty-seven hundred Thenns doing the same. The guards around Father and myself gaped right along with me; even Father let slip a quiet gasp, his icy composure cracking for just a moment at what must have been the most striking sight of his life.

I felt a swell of pride at it — giants kneeling to my father, a Stark, because of what I'd planned and saw through. A moment I'd carry with me for the rest of my life. Then he raised a hand, voice firm.

"By the Old Gods and the new, I accept your oaths. You are welcome in the North, under my protection and my laws, so long as you remain true." Once the oaths were sworn, Father drew me aside for a moment pausing his talk with Benjen. His fingers came up briefly, almost hesitant, to touch the air just beneath the cut on my cheek.

"Is this healing clean?" he asked, pitched low enough that only I could hear it. Then, quieter still: "Was it worth it, son?"

"Aye, Father," I said.

"Looks worse than it feels." He studied it a moment longer, something unreadable passing behind his grey eyes, then nodded once.

"Wear it well, then," he said.

"A Stark's scars should come from standing his ground, not from running." It was as close to open pride as he'd shown all day, and I treasured it as a rare moment of bonding between us. Then he turned back to finish the rest of his business with Benjen, leaving me to rejoin Jon and Theon. A short while later, once he and Benjen had said their own farewells, Father left me as his proxy to settle the new houses, taking Benjen with him. Jory, Jon, and Theon came up once they'd gone, grinning.

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"You've got this, Robb," Jon said.

"Though you might not need it, we're here to help see it done and get everyone settled. But once we do — you'll have to let us ride that mammoth of yours." I laughed, thumping Jon and Theon on the back.

"Manny's growing fast, so I imagine you'll get your wish. Truly, thank you all for coming, for watching my back through this." We turned together to guide the Thenns toward the Stony Shore. As we neared their new lands, Styr fell in beside me, voice a low rasp.

"Stark, you brought us past Castle Black — no chains, no tricks, just your word. I owe you for that. But now I want some fine southern words for my house, something the others will be envious of." I grinned.

"We'll come up with something fierce for you. What do you think of 'Blood and Bronze'? Or 'Bronze and Oaths'?" He nodded, eyes glinting.

"I like those. We Thenns will prove our worth. We'll fish the shores, hunt the woods, build strong — we won't be weak friends, and we'll fight at your side. Our bronze will shine for House Stark; mark my words."

"Good," I said, meeting his eyes.

"I'll hold you to that. Perhaps that's your house words, then: 'Our Bronze Will Shine,' for House Styr. It has a good ring to it." A few weeks later, with the Thenns settled, I was ready to leave. Before I did, I showed one of their wargs a map of their new boundaries, reminding them how important it was to stay within their assigned lands, and pointing out the handful of villages and settlements nearby. Father had already sent riders to inform the surrounding lands of the new house and lord on the Stony Shore.

After another round of farewells, and a few more reminders to stay put and that I'd visit, I led the giants back north, skirting the Wolfswood toward their new home near the mountains, into a valley by the woods along Long Lake. The giants moved with purpose the whole way, already discussing pens for their mammoths, their deep voices rolling like storm clouds. I rode beside Magmar, Manny at my side, his bulk swelling week by week, his playful trumpeting growing stronger by the day.

Near their new settlement I slid from my horse and let Manny nudge my hand, his trunk tugging at my cloak. I chuckled, shoving him back gently as he trumpeted again.

"Steady, you oaf," I said, scratching his woolly brow.

"You'll flatten me yet." Magmar watched, a smile breaking across his rough face.

"He trusts you, Stark. Strong bond."

"Aye," I said, warmth humming through me.

"He's a treasure — Guard him until I can keep him for good for me." Curious, I asked, "What words, and what house name, will you take for the giants?" He answered slowly and deeply.

"Our house shall be of Vernth. We will find our words in time," he said, with a note of quiet reassurance. That night, by the fire, Theon came and sat beside me. His usual bravado had gone quiet, his eyes distant.

"Robb," he said.

"Theon. What's on your mind?" I asked.

"You've been changing, for over a year now, and I can see it's been for the better. You've done more for the North than I, or any living man, would have thought possible — especially getting those giants past the Wall. It's made me think about what I could do for the Iron Islands, the way you have for the North. I just don't know where to start. I've got an idea, though — my grandfather's notes, my uncle's suggestions — to strengthen the Iron Islands, so we're not as hated or poor as we've talked about before."

I nodded, stretching my hands toward the flames more from habit than the chill. He went on.

"I've also been writing to the Manderlys of White Harbor, about trade and merchant men, with your father's help, and Luwin's. If I can bring that to the Iron Islands, along with your ideas for merchant escorts, we might not need to raid anymore — or at least keep it to the far side of the sea." I clapped him on the shoulder.

"That's the man I see in you, Theon. You're rising to meet it, and if you need help, I'm here for it. My brother, in all but blood — we've lived and breathed the same air near on ten years now. You're as much a brother to me as Jon or Bran." He looked away, pride and resolve mixing in his gaze.

"Following your lead, I suppose. If I can manage even half of what you have, I'll make my grandfather, and my kingdom, proud." A few days later, I wandered to a heart tree near the center of the land the giants had chosen, its red leaves pulsing faintly in the dusk. Mammoth pens rose nearby, vast and solid, low calls drifting on the wind. I was petting Hedwig, turning over some of my plans for the settlement, when Magmar's heavy tread broke the silence.

"Stark," he rumbled, voice like shifting rock.

"A new change has come. They wait for you." I rose, following him, not understanding at first what he meant, though the meaning soon answered itself. A small figure slipped from the shadows beneath the heart tree, Golden eyes among the first things I noticed. A child of the forest — its bark-like skin a pinkish green, eyes deep as old wells, though smaller than any I remembered from the show. Magmar gestured toward it.

"This is… new, and old. Born anew, it says. Brings change, like you do." The creature stepped closer, its voice a rustle of leaves.

"I am Change, named in the Old Tongue, freshly spawned by the will of the Old Gods. The same magic that cloaks you, wolf-child, gifted by the gods, birthed me from an old, tangled root that was meant to die, for a new rooting of the world. That was the old changing of the world. I am the new." I stared, pulse quickening.

"A child of the forest, named Change, born from a root that was supposed to die? What the hell is going on? None of this was in the books or the show." Change tilted its head, eyes glinting with something knowing.

"The roots twist and wake, Stark. The North stirs, and you are its beating heart. Have you not felt it? Your gifts bloom as I do — strength to break mortal men, speed to outrun the wind, a hide that shrugs off the cold. You grow as the First Men once did in the Age of Heroes, and further still. Your body shifts, faster, stronger, aging slower, like the weirwoods themselves. These are the Old Gods' marks upon you, wolf-child. I am here to speak them to you." I swallowed, the weight of its words sinking in.

Did the magic that had brought me here truly come from the Old Gods, and was this what it had given me? And what did aging more slowly even mean, in practice? What did they want from me? Change's smile was a riddle, words curling like vines.

"The roots do not demand; they deepen. You are the seed, buried in rich earth. Tend the North, and it rises green. Let it wither, and frost claims all. I watch, as do the gods, to see where your branches reach. There are others too who watch — an isle of heart trees with antler men, and a crow with three eyes. I watch as the older gods watch. We are many, yet we are none." My mind raced.

"You're saying I'm changing, that the world's changing. What am I becoming? What's happening?" It tilted its head again, voice a whisper of wind through branches like it did not understand my urgency in asking.

"A sapling of the old blood, tied to the spirit of the Old Gods — nothing more, yet more than most remember in this age, wolf-child. Your sinews tighten like bowstrings, your bones harden like oak. Cold bites less, hunger gnaws slower. Wear your years lightly, like the evergreens. The magic swells, and you swell with it — a hero remade for a world reborn, unlike anything seen since the breaking of the Arm of Dorne, or of the Wall itself. The roots spread," Change murmured.

"Giants walk, mammoths tread, and I am born. The red comet nears, but already the earth hums. You are the heartwood, Stark. Bind it, or watch it splinter. Do not fail, and do not fall — for though ice is the beginning, the true threat lies in the shadowed land beyond it. Here I speak the First child of perhaps many more to be spawned and sing south the wall again" It faded back into the trees, leaving only a shiver of leaves behind. Magmar's hand settled on my whole back and shoulder, firm but kind.

"Old magic, Stark. We stand with you. But heed it, don't dread it — for old shadows will devour those who do." I nodded, thoughts whirling. What was it even talking about — the shadowed land? Essos, maybe? That was thousands of miles east of Westeros, farther still than the North or the Wall. Beyond Asshai, the only thing I could recall from any book in Winterfell's library was a rumor of a city called Stygai. What had Change meant by the real threat?

I'd always thought the show made the Long Night look too easy — but if there was something greater out there, something no story had ever shown me, I had more questions now than answers. And, strangely, more resolve than before. I would face whatever came next, especially now that it seemed I might live somewhat longer than I'd once expected. I let out a nervous laugh, figuring I might as well enjoy some of it while I could.

I'd need to unify Westeros if I meant to face anything coming out of Essos — I knew next to nothing about that land beyond the fact that it involved dark magic, something like the shadowbinders, maybe. I sighed, telling myself something like this had probably been inevitable — the world's own way of trying to restore some balance. On the bright side, the North was gaining strength, giants back on the right side of the Wall, focused on rebuilding rather than fading away.

A child of the forest speaking in riddles, but still safely on the south side of the Wall, was a win in itself, and whatever power now moved unseen beneath my skin, the same magic that stirred whenever I warged, thrummed inside me, raw and alive. I meant to wield it, shape it, for my future and my people's. With Theon and Jon at my side, I had two strong pieces on the board already.

And with the Thenns and giants growing stronger, forging their place in the North, I had a real foundation to build on, step by step — and if all else failed, well, I supposed I could always have a fully grown Manny sit on my problems instead. I finished the thought with a quiet chuckle.