novelraw Chapter 168 168: The Last Pact
Chapter 168 168: The Last Pact
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123 AC, Isle of Faces
A man with great horns atop his head, with tangles of vines and moss for hair, and leaves, and stitched green garments, opened his green eyes, which glowed in intensity. He was brought out of his meditation with the urging of the Old Gods, asking him to stand, and meeting a creature that would make its way to their shores shortly.
His order had existed for thousands of years, where his ancestors tended to the Weirwood within the Isle of Faces, when the Earthsingers and the First Men made the greatest pact in history, one that ended their long and bloody conflict.
The Green Men, they were called by those who lay outside the Isle of Faces and the waters that surrounded it, though they had no need for names for themselves, only their duty to the sacred isle. And yet, that duty had been threatened many times in recent times, with the Black Witch trying to usurp the power of that laid within the sacred isle, who had used its power to turn an entire settlement into scenes of horror with her foul magicks. And, of course, there was the cold chill that had been awoken, which the Old Gods had helped destroy once and for all.
The Old Gods rarely spoke, if ever, and when they did, it was akin to listening to a thousand voices at once, which was not a pleasant experience to have. And yet, he knew, just as his brethren had, that the Old Gods had been unsettled. They had been unsettled for some time, truly, but it was often the case when the world changed.
They had been unsettled when the Andals came and butchered their trees with their weapons of iron, and spread the faith of their Seven Gods. They massacred anyone who held the Old Gods' blessing, killed many of their chosen, destroyed sacred grounds, and performed massacres that marked the world to this day, though few understood them.
His ancestors had defeated them, then, despite it all, the sacred grounds of this isle were never defiled, and those who had attempted to do so suffered greatly before their blood was fed to the Old Gods, as was the custom in the Ancient Age.
Even as magic faded away, as these invaders converted many of the worshippers of the Old Gods, they were not afraid. Enraged, perhaps, but there had never been a hint of fear, for he had been there, in his dreams, through the trees, experiencing every moment that ever was, that ever would be, alongside his brethren.
Or at least, it was until the darkness that blinded them in recent days, and now, as something approached them, he could perceive a hint of fear deep within, one that he had never seen expressed before, and that alone was worrying.
And yet, he had a duty to serve the Old Gods, and he would gladly die for them. He righted his staff, covered with white wood and green moss alike, and used it to pull himself up, scratching his mossy beard.
He walked slowly forward, as the gods commanded him, and waited. Despite the situation, the man found himself smiling as he looked at the surface of the lake and the mist that covered it. One learned to appreciate the small beauties of the world, and be grateful for them, and the calm waters of the lake, almost completely motionless, held a beauty that he knew he would not find anywhere else in the world.
At least, it had, until it began to be parted by the arrival of a small boat, which made its way to the Isle. It was then that he sensed it, understanding why the Old Gods had felt some apprehension for this meeting. For what approached could only be defined as an endless void, where even Time held no meaning, where every creature near them could be at Death's door in only a thought. It was, by far, one of the most disturbing and terrible existences that he had ever come near, and he knew then that even with the return of magic and the power that lay within this sacred island, there was nought that he could do to stop the devastation that would follow should this creature decide to do it so.
As the small boat finally came to the shores of the Islands, it was two figures that left them, a man and a woman, who looked terribly normal. However, by peering past the physical shells, the man confirmed the threat that these two existed.
The walking death that wore the skin of a man smiled widely and clapped his hands, "I really love this place. I can actually feel how monumental the event that occurred here is, an echo of the pact that had taken place over a thousand years ago."
The woman with golden hair, the barbed yet blood-covered tree, smiled contentedly and took a beautiful breath, "I'm glad that you convinced me to come with you… I don't think I've ever felt nature prosper quite like this before."
The walking death gave her a smug look, "See, I told you. But let's not forget the reason why we came here in the first place." The creature then turned towards the man's location, its green eyes shining, "Do you mind speaking with us? We have something we thought to bring up with your gods, and we felt this place would be appropriate for it."
Seeing that hiding wouldn't achieve much, the man walked slowly towards the two trespassers, relying on his staff for balance, "The Old Gods welcome you to these islands as guests, should you accept their hospitality."
He walked forward, doing his best to hide his nervousness, and brought out a small piece of bread, which was covered with flakes of salt. The Old Gods themselves had offered Guest's Right, enforced by their power. The man felt himself being judged by both trespassers and prepared himself for waking his brethren for a battle, though he knew that it would not fare well.
The impossible creature wearing the shell of a mortal moved its arm towards him, and despite himself, the Green Man braced himself for an attack. To his relief, the creature's hand took the bread and salt from him and split it with the woman.
Both took a bite of the provided, and the ritual was complete. The man felt the laws of sacred hospitality being set up and slumped in relief. Guest right might have been looked down on in recent times, and with magic's withering after the Long Night, the consequences of breaking them directly became less obvious, and yet they existed. Curses of misfortune where Fate itself was woven to destroy everything that you cherished.
Men often blamed it on chance or luck, but in the old days, those who broke Guest Right visibly withered and perished, or were cursed in ways that the Gods saw fit. The Old Gods were stronger than, much stronger, and able to express their will onto the world. And in these Isles, the Old Gods held a fragment of their former might, which was slowly growing as magic was spreading once more into the world.
He was not sure if they could stop these guests from destroying this place, but they would be empowered should they attempt to stop them, and that was enough for the man.
And so, the man nodded and bowed in respect, "Welcome, cherished guests. We thank you for accepting our hospitality."
The impossible creature simply shrugged, "Don't worry, we had no plans on any… hostilities."
"Then, what was it that you came to this sacred Isle for?" the man couldn't help but ask.
"A conversation, I suppose," The creature answered without elaborating.
The woman with golden hair spoke up instead, "You're a Green Man, aren't you?"
"That is what my brethren and I are called."
"It's curious how the chaotic nature of magic in this realm causes mutations like yours. Sure, it's more prevalent with Maliciously aligned magicks, but I never expected it to also cause such a drastic effect in areas concentrated with nature energy, too. Very interesting, indeed."
The golden-haired guest-woman had been the one to utter this, to the Green Man's confusion. He did not understand what she spoke of, though it did not sound insulting. Though she had a strange gleam in her eyes that he found himself disliking. Thankfully, he heard the Old Gods commanding him to guide the guests deeper into the Isle of Faces, though there still remained an undertone of caution buried deep within their voices, "Follow me. The Old Gods have agreed to grant you an audience."
As they walked deeper into the Isle, the Green Man could feel the many voices of the Old Gods gain strength, until they stopped towards one of the greatest Heart Trees on the Isle. He then felt something strange, a request to let the Old Gods speak through him.
That had never occurred before, but then again, such dangerous visitors had never come to the sacred isle, either. The man, of course, accepted, for it was his duty to serve the Old Gods. He found his mouth moving as he spoke, interpreting the will of the gods into that of a single question, to which he spoke, though his voice had turned strangely gravely when he uttered the Old Gods' words, "Why have you come, Stranger?"
The male guest, whom he now labelled as the Stranger, smiled in excitement, "Finally. We thought you'd have made us jump through more loops just to talk, which would have been annoying. Though you're communicating much more smoothly than you did back in Skagos."
The Old Gods did not seem satisfied with this answer, or perhaps the evasion of an answer, "Much has changed since that fateful day, as you well know. Alas, you have not answered our question. Do you plan on ridding the world of us, as you had many others?"
Ridding the world of the Old Gods? What did that mean? It was hard to interpret this context from the countless voices speaking through him, but the sight alone horrified him. He saw a kraken being drained of strength, a woman being destroyed, and a fire being quenched. Were these… gods? The creature before him, that he had invited into this isle as a guest, was certainly dangerous, but could it truly be capable of slaying the Old Gods, who had lived on the world since the beginning of time itself?
To his surprise, the Strange released an exasperated sigh, "We literally just partook in Guest Right."
"A horse bled and died within the sea of sands of distant lands. Far as it may have occurred, we felt its blood. Our laws would hold little meaning should we suffer such a fate," the Green Man uttered.
"That wasn't on me, and actually, the reason why I came here. War is on the horizon, one between gods, one that the First Dragons are actively instigating, since they're hoping to use it to fight off the Outsiders, who are gaining a greater foothold in the far south of this realm."
The Stranger's words completely and utterly stopped the Old Gods in their tracks. The Green Man was not exaggerating as the countless voices of his gods turned silent for a moment. He knew it then that the situation was certainly dire, and he felt the fear, and perhaps resignation that they felt at that, "If it is our aid that you seek, then you have come in vain, Stranger, for such a thing is beyond us."
"Well, lucky for all of us, we're not asking you to fight or anything. All that we want is fragments of your core, of your power. Seeds, if you will. With your permission, of course."
The Old Gods surged within the Green Man, "You would use us against the Old Ones, against those who we fought alongside following the Great Shattering of Worlds. You would have us risk their wrath, as many had before them."
"Come on, let's be serious here. We both know that I'm not being disrespectful here when I say that the chances of you surviving the war are slim to none. You are not gods, not really. You're a collection of memories, of consciousness, that feed on the life force of those who died on your soul, in your domain. This war will kill every mortal creature that lives in Westeros and Essos, the ley lines will definitely be shattered, and you will fade away. Every descendant of every remnant of souls within your existence would be gone, and all that would remain would be… silence. That is a fact, a certainty, and you know it. And I'm not asking you to do anything, to fight against the Elder Dragons, just fragments of your power. It seems like a small price to pay for salvation to me. I'm offering you not just a chance at survival, but a chance to thrive. I will spread your domain across the world, let Weirwoods grow in places that they never would have, where you would learn things, face experiences, that are outside of Westeros. Is that really such a bad thing?"
"You claim to offer salvation, yet you would take it by force, should you consider it necessary," the Green Man retorted with the voice of the Old Gods.
The smile on the Stranger's face widened, and the Green Man felt as if they had done exactly what he wished, "No, I won't, because as you said, it's not necessary. I have a plan, and you've seen what I can do with a proper plan. Whether you are part of it is your choice, but what I will do will have consequences…"
Hearing these words, the Old Gods continued to deliberate within themselves; the Green Men could feel their hesitation to accept the Stranger's offer. Speaking of whom, the man released an exasperated huff, "I honestly have no idea why you're waiting for so long. You know that I am telling the truth. I did my best not to dismantle the truth field that you set up near the Heart Tree just to reassure you. You should know that I'm speaking the truth when I say that you have nothing to lose by accepting my offer, and everything to gain by doing it."
"A Pact, then," The Green Man uttered, with the Old Gods coming to a decision. He felt their voices layer over his own, become harsher and wield more authority than he ever thought possible, "We shall grant you, your seeds, which you shall spread across the world. In exchange, you shall not use our power against the Old Ones, and you shall make no action that would harm us forevermore."
The Green Man could see what the Old Gods truly wished out of this, and that would be security. They knew that the Stranger wished for these seeds, and there was a wariness in sharing something as fundamental as seeds of their own existence, but they were so afraid of the creature before him, of the endless void of space and time, that they were willing to give in with a vow that he would not harm them, not anymore, nor would he bring the enmity of these 'Old Ones' whatever they may be, onto them.
The pact was weighted to their favour, heavily so, and yet the Stranger knew it. It would be enforced by every Pact that occurred in this sacred Isle, ones that had remained respected for thousands of years, and ended bloodied wars.
The Stranger's eyes narrowed, looking serious for the first time, as he recognised the Pact for what it was. It was a risk, for the creature could take offence at the terms of the agreement.
The Green man felt apprehensive with every second feeling almost like an eternity, until the Stranger spoke up, "Agreed."
It was only a single word, yet the Green Man felt the weight that existed with it. The earth beneath him trembled, the waters of the lake rippled without wind, and the leaves of the Heart Tree shuddered as though stirred by a non-existent breeze. It was as if the world itself proclaimed that the Pact was set.
He felt the Old Gods' relief at the acceptance, and he felt their voices, urging him to dig near the Heart Tree. Without question, the Green Man lowered himself and pressed his hand into the sacred soil at the base of the tree. The earth parted far more easily than it should have, revealing something that pulsed with power beneath.
He reached his hands and found them, a handful of seeds, each of them with a crimson glow that pulsed in a rhythm that was not dissimilar to a heart. He hesitated for a moment before presenting them to the Stranger.
The male guest took the seeds and examined them for a moment before giving them to the woman, who did the same. After a few seconds, she gave the Stranger a nod, and a small smile appeared on the creature's face.
The Stranger then bowed faintly and spoke up, "Thank you for your cooperation."
And just like that, as he blinked his eyes, both he and the woman had disappeared from his senses completely, not even leaving a trace of their existence, as if the Pact had not taken place. However, the soil remembered, the Isle of Faces remembered.
It was only then that he realised that a faint pressure that had been there from the moment the guests first came to the isle, one that he had not noticed, disappeared, making him slump in relief that the gods likely shared. The Green Man then released a long, shuddering breath as he slumped against his staff, with the realisation of how close the Isle was to becoming no more.
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Excerpt of: Weirwoods Beyond the North
By Gerion Lannister of Casterly Rock
My dear Joy, it saddens me that I cannot show you the wonders of the world with your own eyes, for it is truly magnificent. I have sailed from Lannisport to Leng, and yet the beauty that I could see still surprises me, for every day, I realise that there is much of the world that we do not know, mysteries that remain to boggle the mind, mysteries that I wish to share with you.
I know that you are disappointed in my lack of presence, but perhaps my tales would shed some light regarding the decisions of your foolish father, and none other than tales of the Old Gods. I know that you had been quite taken with their faith in the youth, though I believe because you thought that the gods would turn you into a Skinchanger. Or perhaps it was to avoid the endless sermons in the Septs. You were quite young the last time that I had seen you, so perhaps it was not to be.
Anyway, I had heard tales of Weirwoods growing far outside the North, where they are more abundant. They had begun to spread strangely South of the Neck a few centuries ago, and the Faith had attempted to petition the King to cut them down. Cregan Stark opposed such a thing vehemently, and given how great his influence was at the time, King Viserys the Peaceful commanded that anyone who cut down a Weirwood Tree would lose a hand.
Of course, the North had been blamed for this, being claimed that it was all a campaign to spread the Faith in the Old Gods in the South, though most postulate that they remained saplings from the wars between the First Men and the Andals that simply grew once more as magic returned to the lands. The North itself did not push for an expansion of the Faith in the Old Gods, and the matter was settled, with the South learning to live with them.
Alas, I am not writing to you to explain such trivialities, but for the strange discovery that I have made, for during my voyages, I have noticed a strange presence of Weirwood trees in places where the First Men never dwelled. There existed a few in Braavos, in the Free Cities, in the Bay of Freedom, and most surprisingly, even a few trees in Yi-Ti and Leng.
I do not know whether these trees were planted by someone's hand or if they truly grew on their own. Some claim it is the work of the Old Gods, spreading their roots where they will, while others whisper of a more deliberate hand behind it all. I cannot say which is true, my dear Joy, but I thought to share such a mystery with you, to perhaps ignite your curiosity, as it once did mine when I first set foot beyond Lannisport. If I have learned anything from these travels, it is that the world is far stranger than the maesters would have us believe, and I would have you question it, always, though perhaps with more sense than your father ever had.
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AN: I had a bit of fun writing this chapter. I know it's not exactly an exciting one, but I liked the idea of an interaction and a pact between Harry and the Old Gods. Harry, pretty much, knows that the Old Gods are using it to be safe from him (which is why they jumped at it a bit), but is willing to accept that for the seeds, which will be pretty important soon. I sort of tried to make things a bit vague, with a few hints as to what they will be used for, but I'm not sure I pulled it off quite as well as I wanted to. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.