Chapter 37
The King in the North – pacing restless down Winterfell's hallways
It was the middle of the night. Winterfell was silent. The castle slept. Apart from the guards, Jon was alone. He wanted to be alone. These last few weeks had drained him. All manners of disagreements came his way. He was expected to solve all the discord. The Dragon Queen did not help; she had chosen a new Hand. Tyrion was lost between the two sides. He still supported Daenerys in the open, but in private had been less impressed by her. Jon wouldn't mind him on their side, but as they were all supposed to be allies now, an end to all the skirmishes would be even better. In a few days, they would ride. He had told Sansa to stay behind. She did not like it, but relented. Arya would not. Jon had given in on that account; if she wanted to fight, she could fight. What was most on his mind was the dragon glass. If only he knew where it was hidden.
As he paced hour after hour, despair grew inside him. Just the dragons might not be enough. They had fire, but they needed weapons too. They needed the dragon glass. Desperately. He had searched the entire castle over and over again. Jokes had begun to appear calling him the King That Sought. It frustrated him as he wanted to shout out how important it was. How much they all needed it.
He briefly closed his eyes and it was as if a faint whisper spoke to him. It sounded like Bran. "Come to me," it said. "Come closer." Jon startled. Bran had briefly visited Winterfell with his companion Meera Reed but he had soon left. He would be safer in the marshes of her family where locations were not firm and shifted like blocks of ice on the water. His gift would be protected. Out of sight.
"Bran," he whispered. "Come where?" But as he asked the question, he already knew the answer. The Godswood. The heart tree.
"I'm coming," he said. "You'll have to help me, Bran," he pleaded. "You'll have to."
Bran did not respond. Tired by a night of no sleep and hindered by the darkness, Jon stumbled over tree roots until he was at the middle of the Godswood. The heart tree stood there, silent and solemn.
"Speak to me, Bran," Jon mumbled as he lay his hand on the tree. The tree's eyes opened and Bran's voice came out.
"The treasure is right here," he said. "Here at this sacred place, deep beneath the roots. Deep beneath the water."
Jon's eyes lit up, but then his face fell. "I can't do it," he said. "It would be sacrilege."
"That's precisely why it's here. No one would dare."
"The gods won't…. They won't mind?" Jon asked. Bran did not reply.
Jon sighed. "The night is dark and full of terror," he muttered to himself.
"Have faith, Jon," the tree with Bran's voice said. "Like Eddard the Hoarder and all the ones that came after him."
He nodded. "I will have faith," he said. "I will find the treasure. Without it, we won't stand a chance."
The next morning he asked everyone to gather in the great hall. When they were all present, Jon rose and spoke up: "Last night, I had…. A vision of sorts." He said. Bran's identity should remain hidden. "I was called to the Godswood." His sisters briefly gazed at one another. He gave them a curt nod. "Strange though it may sound," he continued. "The tree spoke to me."
His bannermen began to mumble. Tyrion looked at him expectantly whereas Daenerys's eyes narrowed. Tormund did not seem fazed at all but Davos cringed. Jon knew his experiences with Stannis had given him a great dislike for so-called guidance from the gods. "As you all know, I have been on a quest for hidden weapons." Some laughed. It had been hard to miss.
"The tree told me where to find them." At that, the hall fell silent and filled with anticipation.
"It's beneath its very roots," the King in the North said. "Hidden in the Godswood itself."
"It can't be," Sansa whispered, "that would be sacrilege. No ancestor of ours would have done such a thing."
"The gods will never forgive us," Lord Manderly said, shock written on his face. "I couldn't agree more," Lord Glover added his voice.
Jon rose his hands to calm them down. "I understand," he said. "I felt the same, believe me. It told me to keep faith. Perhaps this is a gift from the gods, our gods, to us. To protect the North!"
His bannermen did not look convinced. A sly smile crept over Danearys's lips. Tyrion at least had the heart to look displeased on his account.
"To take away any and all doubts," Jon said. "I'll be part of the search party myself. My spade will enter the ground beneath the tree. I would like volunteers. I would not dare to appoint any man to such a task, as each man has a conscience of his own." If there was anything he'd learnt from the free folk, that was it.
Tormund spoke. "I will help you," he said. "The trees do not lie; they speak for the gods."
"Thank you," Jon said. "Who else?!"
"I may not be of much help," Tyrion said, "but I will." His Queen shot him a look. Jon found it hard to read. Surely the Dragon Queen would wish to defeat the White Walkers too? Perhaps she thought it was yet another betrayal.