Game of Thrones: The Red Dragon Lord

The next day, perhaps due to Gavin's assistance, Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, personally led him to see the heart tree.

They passed through the deep tunnel beneath the Great Wall and arrived at Whitetree Village. At its center stood an ancient weirwood, its pale trunk towering above the snowy desolation. The carved face on the bark was faintly visible, looming eerily in the shadows. Sparse, dark red leaves clung to its branches, a sharp contrast to the pale wood dusted with snow.

The village was steeped in silence, its stillness broken only by the occasional moan of the wind. The weak sunlight cast a cold, silvery glow across the frozen ground, while gusts of wind stirred the snow into swirling clouds. The dead grass trembled beneath the relentless cold, and the earth itself felt lifeless beneath their boots.

The weirwood stood like a silent guardian in this desolate landscape, its presence timeless and unyielding. Snow around its base lay deeper than elsewhere, as though the years themselves had accumulated there. Whitetree Village seemed a forgotten relic, its frozen emptiness starkly at odds with the sacred vitality of the tree.

Gavin and his companions approached the weirwood, their breaths visible in the frigid air. Mormont broke the silence, his voice gruff but thoughtful.

"Southerners rarely pay homage to the old gods. What about you, Ser Gavin?"

Gavin smiled, his tone warm but measured.

"I follow the Seven, but I respect all gods. Here in the North, it feels only right to honor the weirwood and the old gods."

Stepping closer, Gavin reached out and placed his hand gently against the ancient bark. The moment his palm made contact, a surge of powerful magic coursed through him. His eyes drifted shut as he felt the energy weave through his being, connecting him to something far greater. His consciousness expanded, lifted by the tree's perspective.

He rose above the world, the vast land below shrinking as his sight traveled outward. Weirwoods scattered across the North revealed themselves, each a fulcrum of magic intertwined with the very fabric of the earth. Among them, one stood out—a towering, ancient tree of immense power. Through its form, Gavin glimpsed Brynden Rivers, the Three-Eyed Raven, bound within its massive roots. Their gazes locked across the distance, and Gavin felt the weight of the moment.

When he withdrew his hand, he inhaled deeply, his expression a mixture of awe and contemplation. Mormont regarded him curiously, his weathered face betraying unspoken questions.

Breaking the silence, Gavin offered a composed smile.

"Lord Commander, might I trouble you to take me to the Great Wall?"

Mormont nodded, leading him to the wooden elevator. As they ascended the 700-foot height, the wind howled around them, carrying with it the icy breath of the North.

From the top of the Wall, Gavin surveyed the vast expanse before him. Snow-draped forests stretched endlessly, a pristine white quilt over the land. Mountains loomed in the distance, their jagged peaks glittering in the pale sunlight. The biting wind whipped at his cloak, but Gavin felt only awe as he took in the grandeur.

Beside him, Mormont chuckled.

"Shocked, aren't you, Ser Gavin?"

Gavin nodded, his voice reverent.

"It's breathtaking."

The Lord Commander's gaze turned distant, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

"I remember feeling the same when I first stood here. But after years of patrols, the sight lost its novelty. Now, it's just part of the job."

He leaned forward, resting his gloved hands on the icy wall. His expression turned grim.

"The wildlings are stirring. Their movements grow more frequent and organized, but we don't yet know why."

Gavin considered mentioning the White Walkers but thought better of it. Instead, he said,

"There are many prisoners in the Stepstones. I'll arrange for a ship to escort them to Eastwatch. You can send men to receive them there."

Mormont's brow lifted in surprise, and he dipped his head in gratitude.

"Thank you, Ser Gavin. The Night's Watch appreciates your support."

Gavin inclined his head, letting the moment linger in silence. His gaze swept over the endless snow-covered mountains. The vastness of the land before him seemed to swallow all worry, leaving only a sense of peace. A flock of birds soared across the pale sky, their flight a fleeting reminder of life amid the stillness.

Three days later, Gavin, Daenerys, and Maester Aemon prepared to leave Castle Black. Aemon's eyes glistened with unshed tears, his concern for Daenerys evident.

"Take care, my child," Aemon whispered, his frail voice heavy with emotion.

Daenerys embraced him gently, her voice soft.

"I will, Maester. Thank you for everything."

Gavin exchanged bows with Mormont and Aemon before leading Daenerys away. As they departed, Mormont's gaze lingered on Aemon, his expression laced with curiosity and concern, though he chose not to voice it.

Outside the gates, Gavin released his dragon, Syndor. The great beast unfurled its golden wings, its scales shimmering in the pale sunlight. Gavin helped Daenerys mount before joining her, and with a mighty leap, Syndor took to the sky.

Flying north of the Wall, the world below transformed into a frozen wasteland. Snow blanketed the earth, sparkling like diamonds beneath the sun. The cold wind roared past, carrying with it the wild, untamed spirit of the North.

Syndor's powerful wings cut through the air like golden lightning, and soon they reached a towering weirwood unlike any other. Its massive trunk stretched skyward, its crimson leaves swaying gently as if whispering secrets of ancient times.

As Syndor descended, a small figure emerged from beneath the roots—a child of the forest. Her skin was a deep green, adorned with intricate spiral patterns, and her amber eyes gleamed with an ancient light. Branches and vines wove through her dark hair, a testament to her connection with the forest.

Daenerys stared in awe.

"I've heard of the children of the forest but thought they were only myths."

"They are real," Gavin said with a smile, placing a reassuring hand on her arm.

The child of the forest stepped forward, her voice soft yet commanding.

"The Green Seer awaits. Follow me."

Gavin turned to Daenerys.

"Wait here with Syndor. I'll return shortly."

She nodded, her hand brushing Syndor's golden scales as Gavin followed the child into the cave beneath the weirwood's roots.

The air within was thick with magic. Roots entwined overhead, and faintly glowing moss cast a soft light. At the cave's heart, Gavin found Brynden Rivers, the Three-Eyed Raven, his body entangled within the roots of the weirwood.

Brynden's pale eyes met Gavin's, and he gestured weakly to a blade lying beside him.

"Dark Sister," he rasped. "Take it. And as for the three dragon eggs Varys guards in the Red Keep, they will find their way to you in time."

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