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Game of Thrones: Azeroth? This Is Westeros!
Game of Thrones: Starborn Conqueror
Game of Thrones: My Pets Evolve Into Dragons
Game of Thrones: Joffrey the Ruthless Emperor
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"Your Grace, try this one."
Sansa held out a deep-purple blackberry between her fingertips, blue eyes shining with pure hope.
"Thank you, Lady Sansa." Joffrey took the berry with a polite nod.
He popped it into his mouth under her eager stare, chewed slowly, then gave a small nod.
"Sweet."
"Like they bottled every bit of summer sunshine."
He said it gently, like it was simple truth.
Sansa's cheeks flushed bright red. Her fingers twisted the edge of her skirt without thinking.
The second she turned away, Joffrey's face twisted.
He ducked behind a bush and spat the sour mess into the grass.
Gods, girl, pick a ripe one next time.
That thing could strip paint off a shield.
He wiped his tongue with the back of his hand, then jogged to catch up and kept listening to her sweet but not exactly expert tour.
Of all Eddard Stark's kids, Sansa was the easiest mark.
Because Sansa Stark was a dreamer.
She was still the sheltered little noble girl who lived on songs and knightly tales. A handsome prince and a romantic line could melt her on the spot.
Right now they were wandering the famous glass gardens of Winterfell… well, playing.
The huge space was sealed under expensive Myrish glass, heated by underground pipes and fed by the hot springs to keep everything alive even in the dead of winter.
It was also basically one giant kitchen garden.
Very Stark.
Almost every inch was laid out in neat vegetable beds. All kinds of greens and roots grew thick here, feeding the castle tables.
Only a small corner at the edge held a few berry bushes and flowers—the only soft touch in the whole serious space.
Joffrey had wanted to walk closer, ask the old gardener working there about the crops, maybe get a feel for the yields.
A concentrated food supply like this would be lethal if it got wrecked in winter or war.
But the girl wearing her brand-new dress clearly didn't want to step in the mud.
He dropped the idea after one careful hint.
When Sansa reached for another berry bush, eyes sparkling, Joffrey spoke up fast.
"Lady Sansa," he said earnestly, "would you show me the godswood instead?"
"I've always been curious about Winterfell's heart tree."
"Of course." She nodded at once. "You can go anywhere you like, Your Grace."
The godswood sat in the oldest part of the castle, nothing like the stone world outside.
The second they stepped in, the smell of smoke and people vanished. All that remained was deep, quiet air thick with fallen leaves and thousand-year-old wood.
They moved carefully between the trunks.
Rustle… rustle…
A strange scraping sound suddenly came from the thick canopy overhead. Branches swayed in a way that didn't look natural.
Sansa stepped closer without thinking, breath quickening.
"Probably just a squirrel," Joffrey said softly, but he bent down and picked up a sturdy stick anyway.
He hadn't brought his sword inside the castle.
Neither the Hound nor any of the wolves had followed them.
"Waaah—"
A muddy, leaf-covered shape suddenly dropped upside-down from a thick branch right above them.
Two filthy claws shot straight at their faces.
"Aaaah—!!!"
The scream split the quiet like a warhorn.
Louder than Robert drunk and yelling about hunting boar.
Joffrey's arm got clamped in a death grip. Delicate but surprisingly strong fingers dug straight into his muscle.
He yanked once. No luck.
He dropped the stick and clapped his free hand over his own ear.
It wasn't a monster.
It was Sansa.
When the scream finally stopped, Joffrey calmly pushed the muddy claw away from his nose.
"Bran, stop climbing everywhere. What if you fall?"
"House Stark already has plenty of legendary Brandons. We don't need a 'Bran the Fallen.'"
The creature froze, then flexed and flipped neatly onto the branch.
He sat there swinging his legs, grinning with a filthy mouth.
"Did I scare you?"
Eddard's youngest son was also named Brandon, but everyone just called him Bran, so it was easy to keep straight.
"Yeah, yeah, very scary." Joffrey nodded seriously. "But you weren't waiting up there just to jump us, right?"
Sansa finally realized what happened. Her face went scarlet with anger.
"I'm telling Mother!"
"Don't!" Bran slid down the trunk, flashing a mischievous grin that said the prank had worked perfectly.
"Jon said Arya's too brave to scare, so I hid here waiting for her to come by."
A gray direwolf slipped out from behind the tree and licked the back of his hand.
"Didn't expect it to be you two instead." He scratched his head, knocking dirt everywhere.
"You might need more practice at playing monster," Joffrey laughed. "You know the godswood well. Mind showing us the heart tree?"
"Sure!" Bran glanced at the still-fuming Sansa. "You won't tattle, right?"
"The prince doesn't mind, so why should I?" Her voice still carried a pout.
The three of them—and one wolf—headed deeper into the godswood.
The farther they went, the darker it got.
Ancient branches wove together overhead into a solid roof. The leaf litter grew thicker underfoot, soft and silent.
An invisible weight pressed down, as if the whole forest was watching the intruders.
Then they saw it.
In the center of the godswood, a massive, ancient weirwood rose from a pool of black, still water.
Its bark was bone-white. Blood-red leaves trembled like open palms in the heavy air.
A long, sorrowful face had been carved into the trunk. Every groove carried the weight of centuries.
Deep eye sockets were stained with dried red sap. Old streaks ran down the wood like trails of bloody tears.
"Father says the old gods watch through them," Bran whispered.
In the crushing silence, the words sounded even more eerie.
Joffrey nodded, thoughtful, saying nothing.
His gaze locked on that carved face. A cold shiver crawled slowly up his spine.
The silence stretched. The air grew thicker, stranger.
Sansa shivered and tugged lightly at Joffrey's sleeve with cold fingers.
"I… we should go back. I'm a little scared."
Smart idea. Joffrey agreed immediately.
But as they turned to leave—
A screech tore through the trees behind them, raw and unearthly.
"Caw—!!!"
Joffrey jerked around.
The carved eyes snapped wide open. Fresh blood welled up and poured out.
The wooden mouth opened and closed with a grinding, teeth-grinding creak.
An ancient, icy voice exploded right beside his ear.
"Kid."
"Don't steal my people!"