Warg

The King of Winter's throne was not the end.

They kept moving forward. After passing through long corridors, ruins, an underground river, and caves, they saw light.

Clear white light poured down from a bright sky. Everywhere stood ancient trees, cold, resilient, and battered by time, with patches of snow that never melted scattered among them.

The weathered old soldier murmured, "This is the Wolfswood."

The oldest and most vast forest in The North.

No wonder they could still breathe so easily so deep within the crypts.

They had walked for more than an hour. By the time they emerged from the ground and reached Winterfell's gates, the sun had already set.

Lord Eddard came rushing over at once.

"Where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried everyone was?"

The Lord turned to the side. "Vayon, go find the soldiers in the crypts. The children have been found. Tell them to come up at once."

Winterfell's steward, Vayon Poole, immediately accepted the order and left.

Arya tugged at her father's arm, her face full of excitement. "The crypts were so deep and so long! There was even a huge, huge throne!"

Bran could not help adding, "That must have been the King of Winter's throne."

Lord Eddard's face remained stern. "Forget about the throne. Your mother is nearly frantic with worry. Go back now."

"Besides," Eddard said, glancing at Joffrey.

"The King of Winter became a story long ago. Winter is now The North, and there are no kings anymore."

Joffrey smiled apologetically. "I've caused you trouble, Lord Eddard. Don't blame Bran and Arya. This was all my idea."

"Thinking back on it now, we really should not have disturbed the rest of House Stark's ancestors."

Bran was still too innocent. His face reddened as he immediately confessed to his father in a low voice, "Actually, I insisted on going. Father, please don't misunderstand His Highness."

"Honesty is a fine quality." Eddard patted Bran's shoulder. "I do not blame you. It is enough that you returned safely."

Both Bran and Arya breathed sighs of relief.

On the way back to the main keep, the two children who had successfully completed their expedition eagerly boasted to their father about the wonders they had seen in the crypts.

Joffrey could feel Eddard's gaze.

It seemed the Lord of Stark understood who the true culprit was.

He had pried into Stark secrets without permission, disturbed the dead, and led two Little Wolves deep into danger.

Joffrey silently supplied the sound effect: Ding. System notification: Eddard Stark's favorability -1. Winterfell reputation -1.

Fortunately, his status as Crown Prince served as a shield.

The moment he stepped into the hall, he heard the King's laughter.

Dinner really did have a main course.

The wild yak the King had personally slain was skewered on a thick iron spit, turning round and round. Clear fat dripped from it from time to time onto the coals below, sending tongues of flame surging upward.

The yak had never been so beloved.

Whenever a layer was cooked, someone came forward to carve off perfectly done slices of meat. They would then carefully brush the yak on the spit with spicy, savory, or sweet seasonings to suit the differing tastes of the nobles.

Joffrey chose the spicy and savory seasoning.

The meat was quite firm, with an indescribable wild flavor. Not bad.

Bran sidled over.

After half a day of adventure, Bran had decided that he and the Crown Prince were good friends.

"Your Highness, I know lots of places in the castle that nobody else knows about. We can go play there later. What do you think?"

Joffrey especially did not want to go to the Broken Tower.

"I'm very interested, but King's Landing has been urging Father to return, so we cannot stay long. I should leave my time to the people of The North."

Joffrey changed the subject.

"Bran, your father will make a good Hand of the King."

"Once we reach the south, you will definitely like the Red Keep. There are many secrets beneath both the Dragonpit and the Red Keep."

"I only hope Lord Eddard does not refuse."

Bran was full of hope. "How could Father disagree?"

The legendary name Dragonpit immediately captured Bran's heart. How enormous must a place where dragons lived be? Did Dragonriders live there too?

Bran seemed to see himself dressed in white robes and white armor, riding a dragon and guarding the King.

Bran remembered the stories of every Kingsguard:

"Mirror Shield" Savan from hundreds of years ago, Ser Ryam Redwyne, Dragonrider Prince Aemon, and the twin brothers Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, who lived and died together in the Dance of the Dragons.

"White Bull" Gerold Hightower, "Sword of the Morning" Arthur Dayne, and "The Bold" Barristan.

"Your Highness, once you become King, you absolutely, absolutely must let me become a Kingsguard."

Bran dreamed of his path to becoming a great knight.

Bran, you are the future Greenseer, the Three-Eyed Crow, Brandon Stark.

Joffrey smiled. "Certainly."

Skinchangers were also called wargs. These people possessed a special gift that allowed their minds to enter and control the bodies of animals. They could even occupy an animal's body after death and continue living.

Legend said that only one person in a thousand possessed the gift of a Skinchanger, and only one Skinchanger in a thousand could become a Greenseer.

Why did most members of House Stark possess the gift of a Skinchanger?

How did Skinchangers work? Why could no magical light be seen on Bran and the others?

Why had Bran caught the attention of the current Greenseer?

The moment Joffrey sat upon the King of Winter's throne, all these questions were answered.

The new Rune revealed many truths of history.

His gaze crossed the river of time and arrived in the distant past, in the age when The North was still called Winter.

Back then, the throne had not yet been hidden underground. It bathed in ice, snow, and blood.

Countless figures came and went beneath it, offering struggling or despairing sacrifices to the supreme throne.

Long-faced men and women clad in heavy animal furs presided over the sacrifices.

Some wielded bronze sickles, swords, and axes, cutting open the sacrifices' throats or chopping off their heads, letting steaming scarlet liquid seep into the snow and flow toward the throne.

Some raised heavy stones and smashed the sacrifices' flesh and blood into pulp.

Others simply placed the sacrifices' heads beside the throne and scattered their blood across it.

Souls were exchanged for magic.

He saw the magical light on the throne grow brighter, scattering flecks of starlight that merged into the figures below.

Not everyone received that honor. He noticed that most of those the starlight drifted toward had gray eyes, dark brown hair, and long faces.

Stark.

These people had already been the leaders of that era.

The starlight vanished into their bodies.

He saw those people wield extraordinary abilities, yet he still could not see any magical light on them.

He stepped down from the throne.

When he looked at the throne again, those images scattered with the wind, leaving behind nothing but an empty black stone.

He already knew the secret of wargs.

There were three kinds of Runes on the throne. One was the Mind Rune, while the other two were unknown. But now, he could give them names.

One was the Recollection Rune, which allowed him to use a medium to see the past.

The other was the Bloodline Rune, which could fuse the power of other Runes into a person's bloodline. Though faint and imperceptible, it could be passed down through generation after generation without end.

Was not a weakened version of the Mind Rune the gift of a warg?

A Greenseer could observe the past through a Weirwood. The Recollection Rune's effect was nearly identical, perhaps even stronger.

No wonder Bran had caught the Greenseer's attention.

Was the fate of Bran, the next Greenseer personally chosen by Brynden Rivers, the Three-Eyed Crow, impossible to change?

Perhaps there could be a Kingsguard named "Warg" Brandon Stark.

Joffrey wanted to try.