Of Secret Rituals and Allied Omens

AN: Hello everyone. This took a bit longer to finish than the last one, but, in my defense, it is actually the longest chapter I have posted so far. So, I hope you like it!

Now, it will have quite a bit of exposition to explain the fanon history behind this massive secret House Forrester was keeping in more depth but it is important for some set up for the rest of the arc so even if you don't find it that interesting, know that, once more, there is a method to my madness, so to speak. Also importantly, be aware that an important meeting most of you have been asking me about will finally take place in this one.

So, enjoy :D

Sansa Stark blinked rapidly as the singing stopped, her thoughts spinning as she tried to analyze some of the prophetic lines.

"I am not entirely sure of the details but if the opening lines of the first verse are any indication, then it really does seem that Euron is going to **** our hand and we are going to have to invade the Iron Islands; probably in around four months given the lines about the moons. And...he is not going to make it easy on us," She thought grimly as pondered the third and four lines.

Before she could move focus on the next verse, however, she realized everyone was staring at her, clearly wondering what she just learned from the wakened Old God. Thinking quickly about her immediate priorities on the matter, she turned to Spring.

"You said the Old God only wanted me to deliver this prophecy to my brother Jon before anyone else right?" She asked for clarification. "Not that we couldn't share any details afterward?"

The Child of the Forest paused for a moment, her gaze ponderous. "Essentially, yes," She replied after a bit. "Nothing in what he said to me leads me to believe the Greenseer patron forbid you from sharing that information later; he just wanted to be sure the King that was revived could have a chance to think on his prophetic guidance before making more decisions."

"In that case," Sana said slowly, "does anyone has a piece of parchment and a quill by any chance? I would prefer to write down the words while they are still fresh on my memory."

Lord Rodrik took that moment to remove the satchel that was hanging around his shoulder and proceeded to grab precisely that. Sansa raised an eyebrow for a moment while the Lord of Ironrath shrugged.

"I had a feeling this may happen," He told her. "As I said, I have read the journals of my ancestors that explain what they knew about the Burning Weirwood."

The redhead tilted her head in curiosity but said nothing, deciding to wait for more explanation later. And so, she moved closer to the blue light of the flames that surrounded the ancient tree and started to write down each and every word of the prophecy before she could forget.

To their credit, none of her companions got closer despite being clearly curious as to the contents of the message. They didn't even speak, for a couple of minutes, so as to give her time to gather her thoughts without interruption. By the time Sansa was finished, she bit her lip as she stared at certain words. Not precisely because of their meaning but because she felt absolutely certain the Old God meant for those words to be capitalized, which would highlight their additional importance.

Still, she ended up shaking her head, deciding to focus on it more deeply once her beloved brother returned. So, she folded the piece of parchment and held it tight, before looking back at their host.

"Any other secrets you would like to share, Lord Rodrik?" The Lady of Winterfell in exile asked.

The scarred man in question took a deep breath.

"I don't know all the details," The leader of Ironrath replied in a placating tone, "but my father left behind a few journals from our recent ancestors that explained how...this," He added while gesturing at the Burning Weirwood, "came to pass."

"At this point, I believe I can speak for everyone else here when I say that we are all ears, my Lord," Lady Lyanna pointed out.

"I can imagine," He muttered, just loud enough for his voice to echo across the underground chamber. "Well, then I guess I better start at the beginning which, according to the journal of Lord Gerik Forrester, would take us back nearly 2 and a half centuries."

Rodrik grew silent for a moment, probably to gather his thoughts, and then focused back on them.

"In the year 58 After Aegon's Conquest," He began, "Queen Alysanne Targaryen commenced her Royal Progress through the North, stopping around most of the major keeps and settlements on the way. It was a popular succession of events, as you can imagine. Few in the North had ever seen a dragon before, much less one ridden by a queen that was so loved by the people. There is a reason most came to call her Good Queen Alysanne, after all."

"And yet..." The Lord of Ironrath went on after a pause. "...not everyone was pleased with every step of the Royal Progress. Particularly Silverwing herself. According to the second-hand testimony from the witness at Castle Black, I learned from that section of the journal that the Queen tried to fly astride her companion north of the Wall no less than three times and yet refused her command entirely on that front."

Sansa frowned at that, wondering if the fire dragon could have somehow sensed the icy, growing danger of the White Walkers even back then. After quick glance around, she imagined the others around her were likely wondering the same thing.

"Eventually," He continued, "the Targaryen Queen decided to continue on her journey and met with her husband, King Jaeherys the Conciliator back on Winterfell. Some decisions were made to expand the land that the Night's Watch held under their command but that's not really important for our discussion here, aside from the fact that the negotiations took a while...long enough, in fact, for someone beyond the Wall to take notice of their presence and travel south."

The Lady of Winterfell in exile raised an eyebrow at that bit of information, her curiosity increasing. Beside her, however, she noticed that Spring's body tensed, which piqued her interest even further.

"And so," Rodrik said, "when the King and Queen mounted their dragons and headed back to their home, they made several stops on the way. One of them was on Ironrath. What they didn't know was that...well, a long-lived ancestor of Lord Gerik had arrived before them, and decided to call in a debt."

Sansa frowned for a moment as she tried to unravel the last statement in silence but while her eyes eventually widened in dawning realization, Josera Snow was the first to gasp in surprise.

"So that is where our family got the ability to warg!" The experienced skinchanger remarked, his loud voice bouncing across the walls. "A Child of the Forest mixed with one of our direct ancestors and not too long ago in the grand scheme of things."

"Indeed," His eldest brother responded with a nod. "And that would have been the great-great-grandmother of Lord Gedrik, who ruled Ironrath on her own right at the time: Lady Mira Forrester."

Close by, Sansa noticed that her descendant of the same name started blinking rapidly at that piece of information. Eventually, she shook her head as if to clear it and frowned.

"And the descendants of my namesake...owed him a debt?" She asked, seeking clarification.

"Yes," Rodrik confirmed. "And the pact was bound by blood, while witnessed by the carved faces of a Weirwood tree...this Weirwood tree, in fact."

As of on cue, everyone glanced at the flaming, sacred tree that somehow did not get consumed by the blue fire; its engraved markings that passed for a face staring down at them. Suddenly, the Lady of Winterfell in exile came to believe very strongly that breaking such an oath would be a terrible idea.

"You see," The Lord of Ironrath went on, "back then, several decades before Aegon's Conquest, Lady Mira ascended to the seat of Ironrath after a plague killed most of her family. But soon, she realized an enormous problem: that try as she might, she couldn't conceive. And so, she kept praying to the Old Gods for a solution, **** to avoid the extinction of House Forrester, especially on her watch. And according to the journals...someone heard her plea."

At that moment, Spring let out a heavy sigh. "It was Oak, wasn't he?"

A long moment of silence penetrated the underground chamber and Sansa shook the confusion out of her head as she **** herself to remember that Spring was far, far older than all of them combined; which meant she had probably met untold thousands of beings across her life.

"That was what he called himself, yes," The current head of House Forrester said slowly. "I take it you knew him?"

"Oh yes," The inhuman woman replied with her eyes squeezed shut. "And he was a free spirit. He hated our isolation beyond the Wall, despite the fact it has been easier to defend ourselves there since the Andals took over most of Westeros. So, despite the dangers, he traveled as far south as the Reach on more than one occasion. He also had a fondness for humans, or at least First Men, and would help them in disguise quite a few times. I never heard this story from him, though."

"I see," Lord Rodrik replied, his tone measured. "Well, I am afraid I don't know for sure as to why he would have kept these events a secret from his kind. All I can tell you is what I am told happened, based on the secret family journals."

"Then by all means, please continue," Princess Val said, her tone thick with interest.

When everyone else essentially agreed with her by remaining silent, he sighed and did as asked. "According to Lady Mira's journal, the Child of the Forest named Oak appeared to her during one of the nights she was praying before this Weirwood. He introduced himself as the last living servant of the Old God slumbering inside the tree, which he referred to as the "once famed patron of the Greenseers of old". Then, he explained to her that there was a ritual he could perform with his nature magiks that would restore her fertility. But he warned her that one of the requirements for the ritual would be for him to impregnate her himself, after which, her womb would become healthy again."

Sansa bit her bottom lip, trying to put herself in the position of the late Lady Forrester.

"On the one hand, it clearly worked out fine in the end and her bloodline endured thanks to that pact," She thought to herself. "Some may even call that requirement giving her what she wanted as it was, even if it probably wasn't what she had in mind. Still, it does not sound like an easy price to pay. Or a situation to take in lightly."

"According to her written thoughts," Rodrik went on, "Lady Mira asked him questions for most of the night, trying to understand exactly what raising a half-child of the forest may entail but eventually, she ended up agreeing. And that was when Oak revealed the one thing he asked in return: the unflinching aid of his descendants when the time came that he returned to Ironrath in order to and, I quote, "chase the flame on silver wings." He recited.

There was a long moment of silence at the implications before the Child of the Forest among them sighed.

"He must have been guided by visions from the Old God slumbering within the Weirwood," She declared. "And he probably didn't trust the Three-eyed Raven of the era enough to report his plan."

"But why?" Gwyn Whitehill asked as she stared at the blue light. "And what exactly did his plan entailed?"

At that moment, Elsera Snow gasped, her eyes wide with shock. They stared as she started to approach the tree, extending her hand closer to the flames that licked some of its branches. Vaguely, Sansa noticed from her position that at some point, the sorceress must have cut open her palm since blood was dripping from it.

Then, she took a deep, long breath and her face became grim with certainty.

"So...that is why I can sense the power of Blood Magic lingering in the Weirwood," She said as she swallowed audibly. "One of the last remaining Children of the Forest...yes, now that would be a powerful sacrifice indeed."

Tension filled the air thoughts swirled and facts started to sink in. Mira Forrester looked at her brother; her eyes stunned.

"Explain," She demanded.

The Lord of Ironrath took a moment to glance at the Burning Weirwood before continuing. His face was saddened and it almost seemed to Sansa like he was asking for permission to continue with his tale. Then her eyes widened when she realized that perhaps he actually was.

In the end, he moved his gaze back at them. "Oak must have sensed Silverwing's arrival to Castle Black during the Royal Progress. That must have been the prophetic sign he was waiting for because he headed south as fast as he could. How he managed to cross the Wall, however, I know not because the journals do not say. But what's important is that he arrived at Ironrath a few hours before Queen Alysanne's visit."

"Luckily for him," Rodrik continued, "Lady Mira had kept her part of the promise and explained to her children about the debt her bloodline owed him, so they were aware of the family stories. I suppose it also helped that Lord Gerik was a skinchanger himself, who apparently had an affinity with horses. But whatever factor carried the most weight in his mind, the point is, that he decided to help his ancestor."

"So," The head of House Forrester said after a brief pause, "When night came, the area around this Weirwood was clear of witnesses due to the indirect orders Lord Gerik set forth. And when the King and Queen went to sleep, Oak requested the presence of his descendant so that he could guard his body while the Child of the Forest...made his move."

Sansa's eyes widened, pieces starting to fall into place as her gaze shifted from Rodrik to the self-sufficient flames."Oak managed to warg a grown dragon?!"

Josera let out an involuntary whistle at that, sounding very impressed. "That must have taken a LOT of mental strength."

"You are not wrong," Lord Rodrik responded. "According to the journals, he explained to Lord Gerik that this would tax his magical powers to their limits, especially because Silverwing had an active bond with a living rider. But our ancestor claimed that he needed to try all the same because he believed that, after centuries of gathering everything he needed for his ritual to awaken the slumbering Old God he once served, the magical flames of a grown dragon were the last ingredient he needed...well, the last of two but he omitted that information to his descendant at the time."

The Lady of Winterfell in exile heard Spring let out a heavy sighed, which gave her the impression that she had figured out what came next in the story. Still, she remained silent and motioned for the Lord of Ironrath to go on.

"According to Gerik's journal," He continued, "Getting Silverwing to set a controlled fire to the Weirwood before getting her back to her mate, Vermithor, and forcing her to fall asleep took almost all of his strength. In fact, it nearly killed him, since the bonded dragon tried to shatter Oak's mind every step of the way. But then, he woke up on his own body once more and started to sing in the True Tongue immediately, trying to finish the ritual that he had started. He just never told Lord Gerik about the...Blood Magic component of the ritual until he was ready to act."

Spring buried her face in her palms for a long moment which gave them pause. But soon enough, she rubbed her eyes and looked at her host. "So, that is why I never saw him again...he chose to sacrifice himself to feed the starving Old God he once served."

Sansa swallowed at that, thinking of the strength of will it would take to volunteer for something like that as her respect for Oak rose.

Rodrik nodded grimly. "He apologized for keeping that part to himself until the ritual was already underway but assured his descendant that this was what he needed to do. Lord Gerik tried to talk him out of it, of course, but Oak wouldn't budge. I am not sure what to make of part of his reasoning though, since the journal was not very clear on that point; probably because he didn't have time to explain in-depth," The Lord of Ironrath muttered. "But it seems that our ancestor said that he had felt some sort of enormous shift in the visions he had once been able to channel from the Greenseer Patron and felt the need to act in this manner. The exact words he used were "it felt like a tremor had reshaped the flow of the stream which leads to the future," The scarred man recited.

Sansa tried her best to keep her expression in check when she heard that but managed to read between the lines all the same.

"So, Oak was also affected by new visions during the Prophetic Quake that followed my brother's ascension to godhood," She told herself as she tried to organize her thoughts. "That must have meant he sensed the future changed from its original path and decided it would be best if he sacrificed himself for the sake of the Old God he worshiped. Which begs the question...why?" The redhead asked herself, wondering what exactly had he seen that made him want to awaken the Greenseer patron at the cost of his life so badly.

"In the end, Oak's lifeblood fed the weakened deity, thereby completing the ritual," Rodrik explained. "And according to the journal, Lord Gerik watched, startled as the earth around them began to shake, the blue flames around the Weirwood getting brighter by the moment. Before he knew what was happening, the underground tremors shattered the ground beneath their feet and our ancestor landed in the chamber we are right now...as the roots of the Weirwood deepened even further and moved the burning tree all the way to its new location; in the new tunnels, the Old God had created," He declared.

There was a long moment of awed silence as the group contemplated such a remarkable thing.

"Now that would have been a sight to behold, I am sure," Sansa thought to herself as she tried to imagine it.

"Eventually," Their host said as he went on, "Lord Gerik realized the flames did not consume the Weirwood. Instead, their brightness served as a sign that indicated the strength and vitality of the wakened Old God. And according to the journal, it was only a matter of time before our ancestor decided to take upon Oak's offer to experiment with the blue flames. That was how he realized that tools forged with these Dragonfire basked in the essence of an Old God produced the best carpenter tools in all of Westeros, allowing him to improve the speed and quality at which Ironwood was shaped into objects."

"And that was how he became known as the Craftsman," Mira Forrester said, her eyes wide.

"Precisely," Rodrik confirmed. "Between that and learning that the woodland magiks around the wakened Old God preserved crops for years on end, which would be extremely useful in case of a siege, Lord Gerik decided to keep all of this a carefully guarded family secret. But I am telling you all now so that we may use it to our advantage in the battle to come."

Sansa took a deep breath, appreciating the immense show of loyalty from her Forrester bannermen. "Then I thank you. And I assure you that House Stark will not forget your support."

The Lord of Ironrath bowed. "That is good to hear, my Lady."

Spring took that moment to clear her throat. "Did the journals said anything about Oak mentioning that the Old God was waiting for someone?"

Rodrik blinked. "Not to my knowledge. But I suppose there was that time I heard the voice of the Old God whisper your name, even though that was the only time I have heard him speak in a way I could understand."

The inhuman woman sighed at that, her tone a mixture of aggravation and respect. "Then that explains Oak's knowing look during the last conversation he had with me all those centuries ago. He knew that the Old God he planned to awaken would need a Child of the Forest serving him in order to translate its more complex words and prophecies from the True Tongue to the Common Tongue in order to provide guidance to men he wanted to aid," She explained. "And since he knew he was going to sacrifice himself, that meant he realized he wasn't going to be the next Oracle of the Weirwood but must have somehow had a vision that showed him I would be."

Then she shook her head in disbelief. "That sneaky little squirrel!"

There was a deep moment of silence as they contemplated her words, along with her strange choice of words for a curse. But then Sansa shrugged.

"Well, what's done is done," She said. "What we need to do now is figure out how are we going to use all of this to our advantage for the battle to come."

The Child of the Forest took several long breaths, seemingly to calm herself down. Then she rubbed her forehead for a moment and looked at them.

"I...may have a few ideas," Spring said slowly. "Rodrik, do these tunnels extend farther away than the point where our army will clash with the Bolton forces?"

"In a couple of directions, yes," Rodrik replied with a nod. "Why? What do you have in mind?"

"A plan that could make things much more complicated for our more numerous enemies, She muttered. "Now, Elsera, Josera, please get closer. I think I understand now why the Old God wanted your aid for the ritual he asked me to oversee. So, let's organize this quickly. House Bolton's army will be arriving soon and we must be ready."

Several hours later...

White Harbor: The North

The sky was darkened by winter could as Jon Stark guided his mighty she-dragon through White Knife river. Jon suspected it would soon be dusk which would mean they had been flying for most of the day. But at last, he saw the entrance to the port of White Harbor, the Merman statues pointing their tridents at the ships that approached them.

Behind him, he could sense Arya's interest perking through her body language. "So, that is how the only city in the North looks like from above. Certainly more pleasant to the eyes than King's Landing."

Then he heard her sniff the air. "And it definitely doesn't smell as badly."

Jon chuckled. "So, I have heard. What do you think Bellegere?"

"Well, I like all the buildings made of white marble," She said after a bit. "Gives the city a striking look. Also, the layout seems more orderly than Braavos. Those merman statues are nothing to the Titan, though."

The King in the North and the Trident chuckled, noting the tone of pride in her voice when thinking of home. Perfectly understandable too, since that colossal fortress was definitely majestic.

"You have a point there," He ended up saying as he approached New Castle's large, open courtyard. "Anyway, hang on tightly; we are about to land."

They did exactly that as he urged his Ice Dragon towards the space in between the guards that were hurrying to get in position and stand at attention to greet him. Before long, she folded her wings and her huge paws hit the cobblestones below.

As soon as he landed, an armored middle-aged man with a trident in his hand rode towards him and stopped when his horse started getting a bit nervous in the presence of the enormous beast. Not that the secret god could blame him.

The man in question was clad in silvered plate and mail over this he wore a fine leather tabard that bore the Merman of Manderly.

"Greetings, my king!" He said firmly as he bowed his head. "I am Ser Marlon Manderly, cousin to Lord Wyman. I am in charge of the city Garrison."

"Pleased to meet you," The young King responded with a nod. "My dragon needs to eat and rest for a few hours before we can continue our flight towards Ironrath. Would it be possible to trouble you with half a dozen goats?" He asked, not wanting her to get too full before the battle.

"No trouble at all, my king," He said. "I will have my men take care of it."

Then the knight paused for a moment. "You should know, however, that Lord Manderly has already left with the army he was going to personally lead on the march towards Winterfell, as per your order."

"Good to hear," The secret god responded. "With the Skagosi focusing their attacks on the keeps that allied with House Bolton, Ramsay's supporters won't have anywhere to retreat to after the coming battle."

"Smart," A familiar voice said to his left. "Don't leave any place intact for your enemies to seek shelter in."

Jon turned and saw the elderly Olenna Tyrell approaching them, her eyes smirking as she gave his dragon a long look.

"My Lady," The King said with a nod as she stared at the powerful matriarch from the Reach. "Good to see you again."

"Oh, this time, the pleasure is all mine, your Grace," She said, her tone definitely sounding pleased. "Because you managed to keep your end of the bargain despite the dangers."

And that was when Jon noticed a much younger lady approaching. She was quite beautiful, with thick and curling brown hair, large blue eyes, and a slender but womanly figure. She seemed fair and lively, with an elegant dress. And before long, her expression turned into a shy and sweet smile as she looked at him.

"I am Margaery Tyrell, your Grace," She said. "I am told I have you to thank for my rescue. So, in the name of House Tyrell, allow me to express my gratitude."

Then her smiled widened. "And speaking for myself, I hope this is only the beginning of a good relationship between our Houses."

A/N: Well, Margaery is finally here! I can think of quite a few of you that will be pleased with that development. And a few more Jon-centric scenes will take place in the next chapter now that I have finished with the important bit of setup back at Ironrath.

Anyway, the Battle of the Bastards is getting closer. In fact, in-universe wise, it will begin in about an hour. So, I hope you have fun with the chapters ahead. I am sure I will.

Until next time guys and gals, please leave a comment down below. See ya!