Chapter 105: Godswood!

Damian found his men residing in Wintertown. They had brought the goods from Torrhen's Square three days ago and delivered them to Maester Luwin.

Seeing that they were well placed and fed, he returned to the castle where Jon and Robb were eagerly waiting for him. They wanted to hear about the Greyjoy Rebellion.

Damian indulged them and narrated a kid-friendly version of the war. The boys, now seven name days old, had just started their martial training. Their eyes widened with excitement as Damian recounted how he defeated seven Ironborn lords one after another to win the seat of the Iron Islands. They were enthralled by his tales of bravery and strength, their young minds absorbing every detail.

"And then, as the last Ironborn lord fell, I claimed his Valyrian Sword and the seat of the Iron Islands," Damian said, his voice filled with dramatic flair. "It was a hard-fought battle, but I emerged victorious."

Jon's eyes were wide with admiration. "Uncle Damian, you must be the greatest warrior ever!"

Robb nodded enthusiastically. "I want to be just like you when I grow up!"

Damian chuckled, ruffling their hair. "You both have the heart of a Stark. With hard work and dedication, you can achieve great things."

The boys peppered him with questions, wanting to know more about the battles, the castle he captured, and the men who fought alongside him. Damian patiently answered each one, enjoying their enthusiasm and curiosity. It wasn't until they were called for supper that they reluctantly stopped their questioning.

At the table, the Stark family gathered, with young Jon nestled close to Lady Lyarra. Damian's mother had taken on a motherly role for Jon, who seemed most at ease beside her. Despite this, Jon remained quiet in the presence of Lady Catelyn, who sat across from him.

Damian sat beside Jon, with his cute little niece Sansa next to him, as he had insisted she sit by his side. Robb was seated next to Sansa.

Ned raised his goblet and turned to Damian. "Damian, I want to thank you for the metal ingots. The iron is enough to last us a year or two," he said, having just heard from Maester Luwin about the gift.

Damian nodded, a modest smile on his face. "I'm glad it could be of use, Ned. The Iron Islands are producing more than ever, and it's only right that Winterfell benefits from it."

Lady Lyarra, her eyes filled with maternal concern, asked, "How are you faring at Pyke, Damian?"

"When do you plan to leave, Damian?" Catelyn asked, her tone polite.

"Ten days hence," Damian replied. "There are matters back at Pyke that require my attention."

"What? So soon?" Robb was surprised, and so was Jon, their faces falling with disappointment.

Damian smiled warmly at his nephews. "Yes, I'm afraid so. There is much to do, and my presence is required. But I promise, I will make the most of my time here with all of you."

Robb's eyes sparkled with determination. "Can we train with you, Uncle Damian? We want to hear more about your adventures and learn from you."

Jon nodded eagerly, his shyness momentarily forgotten. "Yes, please, Uncle Damian."

Damian chuckled, ruffling Jon's hair. "Of course, we can train together. I'll share more stories and teach you some of the things I've learned."

Lady Lyarra watched the interaction with a warm smile. "Your nephews look up to you, Damian. It's good for them to have you here, even if it's only for a short while."

Damian nodded, feeling a deep sense of responsibility and affection. "I'll make sure our time together is meaningful."

Later that night, as the household settled into the quiet rhythms of Winterfell, Damian found himself in the Godswood. The ancient weirwood tree stood tall and silent, its red leaves whispering in the wind.

Damian stepped forward and touched the face carved into the weirwood tree. The bark was cold and smooth under his fingers, the eyes of the carved face seemed to watch him with an ancient, knowing gaze.

He had yet to unlock the greenseer talent to see into the past or use the weirwood tree to spy. The gift lay dormant within him, elusive and enigmatic.

Damian wondered about the Three-Eyed Raven, Brynden Rivers. Was he watching him now, through the eyes of this ancient tree? The thought sent a shiver down his spine, not of fear, but of anticipation.

"Are you watching, old man?" Damian murmured softly, his breath visible in the chill night air.

The tree stood silent, its red leaves rustling gently, as if in response to his query.

Damian activated the Luminara Veil, a gift that allowed him to see the hidden workings of magic. As his vision shifted, a smile formed on his face. The flow of magic within the weirwood tree was slow and red like molten lava, circulating through the tree and deep into the ground.

"It's truly magical," Damian said, marveling at the sight. He then contemplated inserting his own magic into the tree, curious to see if it would elicit any response. As he sent a wave of his magic into the tree, it was immediately assimilated into the tree's red flow. It was as if the tree was an ancient well, and his magic couldn't even create a ripple.

Just as Damian was about to withdraw his hand, he sensed a change. His senses caught onto something happening within the tree. To his astonishment, a red flower bloomed on one of the branches of the weirwood tree. The vibrant bloom stood out starkly against the pale bark. Moments later, the flower fell to the ground.

Damian's eyes widened in shock. He immediately went to pick up the fallen bloom, recognizing its significance. The red flower was how the weirwood tree produced its seeds. The flower had a bulb inside where the seeds formed, and upon maturing, they would fall to the ground.

Holding the flower delicately, Damian marveled at its beauty and potential. He knew that these seeds were notoriously hard to germinate into a plant, which made every weirwood tree precious to the North. The rarity of weirwood seeds added to the tree's mystique and sacredness.

Damian wondered if this seed was any different than what it usually produced. Every generation of Starks would collect these seeds and plant them in the ground in the godswood, hoping a new tree would come from it. But no matter how much water or care was given, the seeds would rarely germinate into a plant. No one had the knowledge of how they grew. Still, his family would collect these seeds and store them each year, planting them just in case.

"Ned should have some stored with him. I will ask for them," Damian thought as he carefully placed the seed in his pocket world, ensuring its protection.