What is this? Another chapter after only two days? Applaud my Supreme Power!


Eddard - 267 AC

"His name was Punitto Moe."

The words unnerved Eddard for days on end. It was all he thought about.

This was not the first time something he witnessed in his visions had turned out to be real. Eddard merely had to try spells he saw in his dreams to prove their existence. But never the figures he saw. There was never any confirmation that they existed.

Those friends often triggered his curse when he simply thought about them. The sheer emotions would take him haphazardly from enthralling joy to deep anguish. Sometimes within the same hour. But the curse always acted and neither laughter nor tears could challenge the curse.

When Eddard had first seen the goblin, it was just another curiosity proven to exist. But finding that the goblin had been a subordinate of his friend…he did not think he had ever felt as much as he did in that moment.

"…our lord should march south to aid the crown."

The voice made Eddard dash behind a wall. "[Silent Cast: Perfect Unknowable]"

It was the first spell that Eddard had ever learned from his dreams, and it had proved to be the most useful spell in his arsenal. Giving him a decisive advantage and allowing him to win every single hide-and-seek game he had ever played.

"What Lord Stark should and shouldn't do is none of our concern, Theon."

The distant voices were followed by footsteps as two guards rounded the corner. They did not notice Eddard and marched right past him.

"The others won't stop calling me green as grass," The named Theon said. "Lord Cerwyn didn't even let me go with Master Glover's party to hunt those goblin monsters."

"That is only because…"

Eddard waited for the guards to leave his sight before he ventured through the candle-lit passageways of Winterfell's dungeons. The echo of the guard's armored boots spread about the walls, the only sound to be heard as Eddard's spell turned him completely silent. This was the third night he had ventured into the dark prison.

Already he was very familiar with the route to that cell. The cell of that goblin who knew his friend.

Eddard quickly learned where the guards patrolled and where to hide from them. This was not exactly very necessary, as with [Perfect Unknowable] he could walk close by the guards, and they would be none the wiser. It was not even necessary for him to even walk down to the dungeon at all, as one of the spells from his dreams simply allowed him to appear where he wanted to be.

In truth, he simply wanted to build up his courage. As his previous attempts to visit had ended with him staring at the door of the goblin's cell, unable to enter. Or perhaps too fearful to enter. Other times Eddard would follow his father into the dungeon and observe as he would talk with the goblin.

Eddard was not sure what he was afraid of. It was possible Eddard feared his father's wrath. Feared that the Lord of Winterfell might be furious with him if he learned that Eddard had visited the dungeons without leave. Maybe that was partly true because Eddard was truly terrified. But rather than fearing his father, Eddard dreaded the confirmation of his father's words. That Punitto was truly gone and had been dead for millennia.

Eddard reached his destination, as he had the previous days. He looked up to the bronze door of the cell. He had been putting this off for far too long. Eddard would confront the goblin, no matter what he might say.

"[Silent Cast: Lockpick]" A brief black tinge appeared on the lock, indicating that the spell had failed.

Eddard was dumbstruck, none of his spells had ever failed before. A piercing silence swept over him, and he pondered turning back.

"[Silent Cast: Lockpick]"

A black tinge again, not an accident. The bronze door had some sort of protection on it. It might have been enough to deter him previously, but Eddard had already strengthened his resolve and there was nothing that would make him turn away.

Eddard knew from his dreams that there were different tiers of spells. It was logical to assume that the first-tier spell [Lockpick] had a more powerful counterpart in another tier. A higher-tier spell would be able to get through whatever protection the bronze door had and open it. It was a simple solution…except Eddard didn't know any. His knowledge of magic only extended to spells he saw Momonga cast in his dreams. And the skeletal overlord never really bothered with lower-tiered spells.

Eddard pondered for a moment. "[Maximize Magic: Lockpick]"

A black tinge: failure.

"[Triplet Maximize Magic: Lockpick]"

Black again.

Am I even doing this right? He thought warily. Momonga's spells would always become more powerful when he did that in Eddard's dreams.

He briefly considered destroying the door itself. The ninth-tier spell [Vermilion Nova] came to mind, so he could destroy the rest of the stupid dungeon too. But the wall of flame might burn down Winterfell, so that was out of the question.

[Reality Slash] was a favorite of Momonga, and Eddard watched the skeleton use it repeatedly in his dreams. It will simply cut through the bronze door, though it might also alert the jailors to his presence. And it might also kill the goblin inside the cell. Bad idea.

"[Teleportation]"

He thought it was a clever solution. He didn't need to unlock the bronze door or destroy it to get through it. Only the spell failed, and Eddard was just about ready to punch the infernal thing down with his bare hands.

"[Greater Teleportation]"

Expecting the spell to fail again, Eddard blinked as he realized that he had moved inside the cell. The seventh-tier spell seemed to be enough to get through whatever barrier magic was on the bronze door.

Eddard had expected the cell to be cramped and dark, but this was not the case. There were candles lit around the cell, keeping it well-lit. There was a small bed, but the goblin was not there. Instead, he was sitting on the floor with a lantern in his hands, surrounded by books and scrolls. Eddard didn't know where the scrolls had come from, but he recognized some of the books, having seen them before in the library tower.

"I know you are there," The goblin spoke as it looked around the room. "If you were trying to be stealthy, maybe don't invoke your spells from the other side of the door where I could hear you."

Eddard felt slightly embarrassed as he undid [Perfect Unknowable].

"It's you, boy," The goblin spoke hoarsely. "Why have you come?"

Eddard gulped down. Nervousness, it seemed, was something even his curse could not do away with.

"To inquire of you."

The goblin's eyes narrowed. "You shouldn't have wasted the teleportation spell. Your Lord came in here and interrogated me."

"My father did?" Eddard asked. He had seen his father come down to the dungeon a few times, but he never really stuck around to hear what they talked about. He always used his father's presence in the dungeons as an excuse to come back the next day.

"What did my father want?"

"What did your father not want?" The goblin shot back. "The man extorted me for all I had, then we shook hands like it was a fair deal!"

The goblin's tone sounded quite bitter. "The question is, what are you here to ask about?"

"I want you to tell me about your king, about Punitto Moe."

The goblin looked skeptical. "The glories of my king are well known."

That was true enough, the First King was as famous a figure as the Falcon Knight or Serwyn of the Mirror Shield, or Aegon the Conqueror. Songs were sung of him, tall tales of adventure and conquest. After finding out who the First King was, Eddard had asked for singers from Wintertown and spent his entire allowance just for them to sing every song they knew. Eddard made them sing so much their voices became dry and brittle, prompting his mother to dismiss them and scold him for the affair.

"I want to hear more than just the songs," Eddard said.

The goblin scoffed. "I suppose there is no real reason to deny you."

"The tale is an old one. A thousand years ago…" the goblin scowled.

"No, perhaps longer than that now," He mused, scowl deepening. "Two kings met together in a council to adjudicate disputes between their kingdoms. One was my King, Punitto Moe, and the other was King Hukko the Strong." (1)

Hukko? The name was not in any of the songs, neither was the meeting. But Eddard vaguely recognized the name. It could not be one of his friends as he remembered all their names with sheer clarity. Yet he remembered the name Hukko as vaguely as he remembered the names of spells or skills. Someone from his dreams but they could not have been a comrade. An enemy then?

"At this council, the two kings decided that fighting amongst themselves was pointless and will only lead to both kings becoming weaker. To resolve all future disputes, the two kings opted to draw a border between their kingdoms and not bother or interfere with the affairs of the other. This border was drawn over the Narrow Sea, Hukko would receive all the Eastern Continent as his domain while King Punitto Moe would receive the yet unconquered and unspoiled Western continent."

Eddard listened intently. None of this had been in the songs, not the council or agreement or the border. Was the western continent Westeros? Did that mean that Hukko ruled all of Essos? But Eddard could not remember there ever being a kingdom that stretched across Essos.

"With the agreement finalized, King Punitto Moe began gathering all of his vassals and subjects. They were ordered to burn anything they could not take with them. And they obeyed dutifully, torching their towns and villages. Millions of people followed their king. Men, women, and children. Humans, goblins, orcs, ogres, trolls, minotaurs, and many more such servants. When they reached the sea, the King cast a spell and a great bridge of earth rose from the ground. Allowing the King and his subjects to begin crossing to their new kingdom."

Eddard could only stare in awe as the goblin spoke, captivated by the tale.

"But they were not welcomed to this new land. Instead, they were met with war," The goblin paused for a moment, a frown marring his features. "Those wretched Children of the Forest, and their Deep Kin allies attacked. Intending to drive King Punitto Moe back into the sea."

"Their foolhardy attack was easily thwarted by the Supreme Being," The goblin continued. "And he showed them mercy, offering them generous terms for peace. But they did not accept the King's mercy, they persisted in their attacks. Battle after battle, year after year, for centuries. Until a thousand years of war had passed."

The goblin paused again, before finishing. "And apparently nine thousand more years after that."

Eddard waited, hoping the goblin would continue to tell his entrancing tale.

When nothing came, he asked. "Have you ever seen Punitto Moe?"

Amusement flashed on the goblin's face, "He was my King, boy, so of course I have seen him. In his youth, he was said to be a most handsome and charismatic man."

Eddard blinked. "A man? But he was a Death Vine."

The goblin raised his brow again. "I do admit he did not look human during his later years, but my king had been centuries old by then."

"What did he look like?" Eddard asked. "When he was centuries old?"

"Well, he looked more plant than a human being, his body was covered in green vines." The goblin answered. "So much so they started calling him Greenhand. But in his youth, the king had a more… human appearance. It was only after centuries of rule that he began turning into more plant than human."

That was more in line with what Eddard remembered from his dreams, though the last comment was rather worrying. Does that mean that Punitto had also been born a human-like Eddard had? Would that mean that Eddard would turn into Momonga when he grew older?

"Your father did not know that about the king," The goblin observed. "How did you know about it?"

"Because Punitto was my friend!" Eddard responded, finally having someone to speak with about the matter.

"w-what?" The goblin stuttered.

"I know him from my dreams. I have seen him before."

"DO NOT LIE, BOY!"

Eddard reeled back from the shout. "It's not a lie. You are the first one I can talk with about this since you know…"

"It's a lie!" The goblin's voice had gained a dangerous edge. "You have to be lying!"

"It is not a lie," Eddard said. "I remember him, he and I were friends."

"What is your proof?!" The goblin bit out. "Otherwise, your just delusional!"

"He and I were in a guild together," Eddard stated. And the words made the goblin stop, eyes widening.

"It was called Ainz Ooal Gown."

The goblin's mouth opened, closed, before opening again yet no words came out.

"There is no way you would know that name… Lord Punitto Moe only told me centuries after my summoning…"

Centuries? "Punitto told you about Ainz Ooal Gown?"

The goblin didn't answer. "…you're my Lord's guildmate then…"

The goblin then turned back to Eddard. "Then it was you…"

"Me?" Eddard asked.

"…Who brought back magic to this decayed world." The goblin stated. "It was my last hope that my king was the one behind this resurgence, but now I know the truth…my king is truly dead."

Eddard felt the air leave his lungs and it felt like a pit had formed under him. Tears formed in his eyes, but they did not fall.

"I see," Eddard felt calm, and he hated it. He did not want to be calm at this moment.

"[Greater Teleportation]"

The spell took him to his room in an instant. It was still the dark of night, and Eddard had put out the candles in his room as if to make it appear that he was asleep. Despite the darkness, he could see perfectly.

He felt cold, very cold. The cold winds of Winterfell had never made him even shiver, yet this night he was feeling deathly cold. Grabbing a riding cloak that he had never used before, he tried covering himself with it, but it brought him no warmth. Eddard left the room and quietly made his way to the castle stables. He passed plenty of guards who were on duty, but Eddard did not even attempt to slip around them.

The doors to the stables had been locked, but this time Eddard had no problems getting through the lock as he had at the bronze door. He found Blackmane sleeping in its usual stall, the stallion did not seem happy to have been woken up at night but quieted down once Eddard let him out.

Some guards and servants walked by and gave him strange looks as he began saddling his horse. He gripped the folds of his cloak, the wool feeling rough between his fingers, as he tried to cover himself better while people walked by him. But none asked him where he was going, and Eddard did not care to explain himself to them. Though he wasn't sure what he would have even told them if they asked.

Blackmane became more skittish as the stallion realized that it was Eddard who was handling him.

"Your hair needs culling, Blackmane," Eddard said as he ran his hand through the stallion's shock of hair. Had Blackmane's hair always been this unkept?

Looking up at the starry night sky, Eddard couldn't help but wonder if Blue Planet would have liked this world better than he does. He remembered his friend spending hours on end creating that artificial sky on the sixth floor. He had lived in this world for years now, and he had never noticed how beautiful the sky was. Blue Planet would have surely enjoyed the sight of the rolling green fields and the clear blue sky. Would he have liked the iron trees of the Woolfswood and the white bark of the Godswood?

Though perhaps Blue Planet had also come to this world in the past as Punitto had. Had all his friends been to this world and he had missed them all? If not to be alongside his friends, then for what purpose had he been born in this world at all?

Was this a curse as well? Eddard looked around him as the people he encountered cleared out of his way, keeping their eyes averted from his gaze. Others whispered softly amongst themselves, not knowing that he could hear them as clearly as if they were saying their fearful words into his ears. Were they right to fear him?

Were they right to be wary of him, a boy his age who can hear things from miles away, who can see things others can't, who dreams unnaturally? Could he really blame them for being terrified when there was an eyesore among them? Could he really blame them when he cannot bring himself to feel things as a normal child would, like fear, anger, joy, or excitement?

Was he truly even one of them? The dreams showed him living another life, so did he really belong to this one?

Why is it that he has been given this life when his friends were not beside him?

Eddard reached the southern gate of the castle, finding it closed and guarded.

"Open it." He said to the guards. His voice sounded calm to his ears, unnaturally calm like everything else about him.

The guards looked amongst themselves. "My lord, we…"

"Open it," Eddard repeated the order as he mounted Blackmane.

Perhaps it was his cold tone or something on his face because the guards did not question him further and rushed to open the gates.

"[Greater Strength]"

Just as soon as the gate was opened, Eddard spurred Blackmane and rocketed forward with great speed. He had never used this spell before and didn't know how fast the stallion would become because of it. Blackmane went faster and faster as Eddard urged him into a sprint.

Eddard looked up to the clear night sky again as the moon and stars shined brightly overhead. He felt the emotional suppression flare up, but it was simply overpowered.

"AAH!" A howling wail cut through the silent night, and it took Eddard a moment to realize that he had made the noise.

"ARGH!" Eddard screamed again, not caring who would hear him.

Suddenly the world seemed to tilt over and in the next moment, Eddard found himself sprawled on the ground. He watched silently, as if in slow motion, as Blackmane fell on top of him. And the night was silent again as Eddard stared up at those jewels in the nocturnal sky.

"Blackmane?" Eddard whispered as he shook the horse that had fallen on top of him. The stallion did not respond, it did not make a sound nor stir for even a moment.

It was then that Eddard saw a dark aura emanating from himself, it looked like a viscous black flame that was slowly burning his body. Despite this, the fire emitted no heat. It only seemed to make him colder, oh so much colder.

Looking around, Eddard saw the grass and vegetation around him slowly wilt and die from the aura.

Oh.

Blackmane was dead, Eddard realized. I killed him.

Eddard did not scream again from the realization, instead, he just started feeling colder as the emotional suppression tried to rein in his anger. He held up his hands against the shining stars and slowly watched as the death aura rescinded.

He did not know how long he had stayed like that, dazed, and sprawled on the ground, watching the shining stars. But soon his mind focused slightly as he heard horse hooves coming towards him.

"Ned!"

Someone yelled. Eddard thought he recognized the voice, but he wasn't sure.

"Ned!"

Came the voice again.

Then he saw them, a rider moving at full gallop with a flaming torch in their hand.

"Ned!"

Hearing the voice again, Eddard recognized that it was his mother.

"Ned!" She called out again. And Eddard realized that she could not see him in the darkness.

"Here," Eddard called out, and his mother nearly galloped past where he was. But it seemed that she had heard his voice.

"Ned!"

Lyarra Stark was in such a rush she nearly fell off her horse herself. After leaping from the saddle, she came running towards him, her torch illuminating where he fell.

"Oh, Gods! Ned!" She yelled as she saw him fallen on the ground.

Eddard had yet to bother to lift the dead Blackmane who had fallen on top of him. He watched the torch in his mother's hand be thrown into a pile of summer snow nearby. Eddard paid almost no attention as his mother pulled him out from under the dead stallion, too busy watching that torchlight snuff out.

"Ned!" His mother called to him, and he looked away from the torchlight. "Oh, thank the gods!"

"Mother?" Eddard looked up to Lyarra Stark and wondered if she was really his mother.

Could she really be the mother of a monster?

Lyarra Stark held his shoulders with her hands. "Thank the gods!" She then embraced him tightly, relief in her voice.

"He is dead," Eddard stated.

Lyarra pulled back to look at him. "Blackmane? He was a fine stallion…"

"NO!" Eddard screamed. "Punitto is dead! He is gone! They are all gone! They all left!"

Tears fell from Eddard's eyes for the first time in his life. "Why did they leave me?"

Lyarra Stark had no answer for him, her eyes were filled with confusion. "The First King? He has been gone for nine…"

"Nine thousand years! Yes, I know!" Eddard yelled, frustrated as he stood up. "But I know him! I have seen him; I have talked to him in my dreams. He was my friend!"

The confession only seemed to confuse her more. "You must be mistaken…"

"I am not!" Eddard yelled again.

Lyarra Stark frowned, her eyes narrowing as she stood up and towered over him. "Now listen here, my son…"

"Your son?" He interrupted her. "Am I really your son? Or am I the monster you spawned?"

Lyarra flinched back from the words as if she had been slapped.

"Do you think I don't hear what they say about me?" He demanded. "Do you think I don't see the way you look at me?"

"Ned…"

"Ever since that day, when you took me to the forest… ever since that day!" Eddard roared. "You saw the monster then, didn't you?! You saw it then, and now you can't even bare to look at me! As if I am the stuff of your nightmares!"

"Ned please…"

"When Lyanna was born… you flinched when I asked to hold her!" He accused darkly. "Can't have your monstrous spawn touch one of your real children, now, can you?!"

Lyarra crumbled, he knew how poisonous those words were, yet he did not care.

"Listen to me Ned…"

"No, I won't listen," He interrupted her again. "Admit it, I have never been your son!"

Tears continued to roll down his face as his curse uselessly tried to suppress everything.

"Listen to me…"

"No…"

"Listen to me!"

She had gotten on her knees, her hands on either side of his face as she forced him to look her in the eyes.

He tried pulling back from her, but she held on to him. "Listen!"

Eddard looked into her steely grey eyes that were so much like his own.

"You are my son," she said.

He averted his tear-filled gaze. "I am a monster…"

"Look at me," She ordered, and he faced her. Her eyes were still staring deep into his own.

"You are my son," she repeated, her stern voice unwavering in its belief. As if nothing else mattered, as if no other words could be true. It was said with such steadfast certainty that he started to believe her.

A sob escaped his throat, as he felt his mother wrap her hands around him. Eddard clung to her as if he were a child and wept for the first time in his life. He did not know how long they had stayed there like that, were children supposed to cry for this long? Is it supposed to feel like his lungs were burning with every breath? Why do his legs feel so thin and brittle? Like they could give away at any moment.

The dreaded cold in his chest began to thaw within her embrace, and he felt selfish for stealing her comforting warmth.

Eventually, his tears dried out and his mother gently nudged him. "Come on, Sweetling. Let's go home."

Eddard could only nod as he and his mother stood up and turned back towards the castle. Immediately, he saw Blackmane there, laying still and lifeless by the side of the road. Looking around, Eddard noticed that they were near Cregan's Point. The power of [Greater Strength] had driven Blackmane to go so far within only a moment.

"It's all right," His mother said as she softly squeezed his shoulder. "We'll come back and bury him, I promise."

Eddard wondered about that; it had been his fault that Blackmane had died in the first place.

"[Create Low Tier Undead]"

Eddard subtly observed his mother from his peripheral, waiting for her usual reaction when magic was used around her. But his mother did not have her usual expression, instead, she looked more confused than anything else.

"You.. brought him back to life?" she asked hesitantly.

In truth, he did not even know if the spell would work. In his dreams, Momonga had used the spell to bring forth armies of the undead, but it was the only spell he knew that involved any type of resurrection.

"No," Eddard answered. "It is still dead, just now it is undead."

But there was something amiss about the stallion. Looking at Blackmane now, it did not exactly look like the 'Skeletal Horse' he saw in his dreams. Blackmane looked, strangely enough, like a normal horse.

"Undead?" His mother questioned, as she walked up curiously to Blackmane. "It looks alive to me."

His mother reached for the stallion and began patting his neck.

"It feels alive," She commented, as she placed her hand just below the horse's head. "He even has a heartbeat."

"What?" Eddard ran forward as he placed his hand below Blackmane's jaw.

Then he felt it, a heartbeat. "He is not supposed to be alive…"

"Have you used this spell before?" His mother asked.

"Once," He confessed. "A raven had fallen from the sky, and I tried the spell on it. But it didn't work."

"Eddard," His mother called, and he turned to her. "I will not ask you to stop using your magic but this… this is a matter of life and death, so please be careful."

"I will, Mother," Eddard assured her.

"Good," she said. "Now, let's go home."

They mounted up on their horses and began riding back towards the castle. Though Eddard wondered why the spell had failed the first time and yet had worked with Blackmane.

It had been a year ago when he had been watching a raven circling above the castle. As the bird had descended close to Eddard, it suddenly stilled as if frozen in the sky. Then he had watched it plummet through the air, dead before it had even hit the ground. As he had been unsure of his magic back then, Eddard had taken the bird down to his favorite hiding spot in the Old Crypts and used the spell [Create High Tier Undead] on it. But the raven had not come back to life as Blackmane did, so the spell had failed.

As they passed Cregan's Point and galloped back to the castle, Eddard put the thought of that raven out of his mind. It happened over a year ago. And the spell had obviously failed, so what use was there in thinking about it?


AN: This is the last chapter of this beginning arc. I pretty much have been planning this chapter since day one of writing this story, so for years at this point(lol). Tell me what you think about and feel free to write some constructive criticism on it.

In the last chapter, you might have noticed that Rickard kept referring to the goblin as 'it'. That was fully intentional and will be along the lines of how other people in the world will feel about the monsters that are coming back. In this chapter though, MomoNed refers to the goblin as 'him', mostly because he has more context and views the goblin less like a monster.

1: Hukko is a canon character. His other name is Hugor of the Hill, and in canon, he is the First King of the Andals. In this story, he is also a player. Hukko was not responsible for the later Andal invasion though, since he was long dead by the time it happened.