When The Throne Bleeds

4. The Whispers of Godswood

They manned the vast structure known as the Wall, a 700 foot tall and 300-mile long barrier which separated the Seven Kingdoms from the lands to the north. Formed mostly from ice with small trenches and wooden fortifications covering the top, the Wall was one of the biggest structures ever made by man.

The brothers of the Night's Watch swore an oath that stripped them of all their titles and lands and prohibited them from marriage and family for as long as they lived.

Jon looked at her defiantly. "And why shouldn't I?"

"You know why!" Irida looked in disbelief at her brother who stuck out his chin at her. "Jon, you'll never be able to have a family. You know the Night's Watch doesn't allow it."

"I don't want it." He said with an air of finality.

Irida wasn't having it. "You'll be going to the edge of the world. You'll never be able to take a wife, or have children. At least think it through, you fool."

"It's my only chance at honour, don't you understand!" He raised his voice at her and she fell quiet. "All my life, I've been disgraced for a crime I never even committed. And I don't want to run away from it like you did. I don't want anyone to hurt the way I did. Yes, I shall bear the consequences of being a celibate. Because I'll be a part of the honourable knights that guard the Wall."

Irida sucked in a deep breath, but her lungs didn't feel relaxed. "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Why didn't you tell me where you had actually lived for the past eight years!" Jon retorted angrily. "Cartos is no village in the East. I searched for it on the maps. You lied to me. Again."

Irida froze, guilt flooding in her veins, overwhelming her core. She could not lie to him any longer. Consequences be damned, she didn't care. She had to tell him, he deserved to know the truth. She took a shaky breath.

"I'll tell you the truth. But not here. Come with me."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the godswood. And as they walked, behind them Tyrion Lannister looked on at their gliding cloaks thoughtfully.

The godswood was quiet and cold, the canopy that covered the holy area blocked the moonlight, leaving them in complete darkness. It was said that the godswood was home to the spirits of all the dead Starks, and if one was worthy of being and truly a Stark, they would be able to feel their presence, hear their whispers.

The night was beautiful and in the heart of the godswood, Irida and Jon didn't hear the people cheering in the feast, all they heard was the silence. A silence so beautiful and so purifying that it was almost like it was meant for a moment like this.

They settled near the glassy black pond under the ancient weirwood tree with it's heart shaped red leaves fluttering in the icy wind. The North believed that the Old Gods of the Forest resided in those weirwood trees and the face of the Gods had been carved onto the trees thousands of years ago by the beings who first walked upon those lands, the face which now gazed upon the two siblings sitting nearby.