Chapter 17
The Heart of the Sacred Tree
"Your Highness, please try this."
Sansa held a bluish-purple blackberry between her fingers and offered it to Joffrey, her azure eyes filled with anticipation.
"Thank you, Miss Sansa," Joffrey said politely as he accepted the berries.
Then, under the expectant gaze of the other person, put it into your mouth.
After savoring it for a while, he nodded.
"So sweet."
"It's like all the sunlight has been poured into it."
His tone was gentle, as if he were stating a fact.
A blush suddenly spread across Sansa's cheeks, and her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her skirt.
While she turned around, Joffrey put on a bitter face.
Then he quickly found a clump of grass and spat out the remaining food.
Sister, could you find someone you know well?
This fruit acid is so strong it'll make your teeth fall out.
After wiping his tongue a couple of times, Joffrey quickly caught up and continued listening to her rather unprofessional introduction.
Of all of Duke Ed's children, she was the easiest to win over.
Because Sansa Stark is a fool.
She is still an innocent noblewoman, her mind filled with songs and chivalrous tales, and she has no resistance to handsome princes and romantic scenarios.
With a few gentle words, one can easily touch her heartstrings.
Right now, they're in the famous Glass Garden in Winterfell... uh, playing.
This is a huge space encased in expensive Mildred glass, with underground heat pipes and hot spring water to maintain its warmth.
It is also a large vegetable garden.
This is so Stark.
As far as the eye can see, most of the area has been planned as neat vegetable fields, where all kinds of fruits and vegetables grow lushly, supplying the tables of Winterfell.
Only in this corner at the edge are there a few berry bushes and flowers, which are the only touch of warmth in this solemn space.
Joffrey wanted to go closer and ask the old farmers working inside to identify some crops and estimate the yield.
Such a concentrated lifeline, if destroyed in the dead of winter or in conflict, would be a fatal blow.
But some people, wearing new clothes, clearly didn't want to step into the mud.
He made a tentative question and then wisely gave up.
Seeing Sansa eagerly reaching for another berry bush, Joffrey quickly spoke up.
"Miss Sansa," he said earnestly, "could you take me to see the Godswood?"
"I've always been very curious about the Heart Tree in Winterfell."
"Of course," Sansa nodded. "Your Highness may go wherever you wish."
The Sacred Woods are located in the oldest area of the castle, a stark contrast to the stone-built world outside.
Upon entering, the smell of human activity is abruptly shut out, replaced by a profound tranquility filled with decaying leaves and ancient trees.
The two explored it cautiously.
"Rustling..."
A strange friction sound suddenly came from the dense shade overhead, and the branches and leaves began to sway unnaturally.
The girl instinctively moved closer, her breathing slightly rapid.
"It might be a squirrel," Joffrey said softly, but picked up a stick at random.
Since he was inside the city, he did not bring his sword.
Their dogs and wolves did not follow them at this time.
"Wow--"
A strange thing covered in leaves and moss suddenly dangled upside down from a branch above their heads.
Two mud-covered claws came straight at their faces.
"Ah—!!!" A scream instantly shattered the tranquility of the forest.
That voice was even louder than Robert's when he was drunk and yelling about going to fight a wild boar.
Joffrey's arm was immediately gripped tightly, and slender yet powerful fingers dug deep into his flesh.
He tried to pull it out, but couldn't.
He had no choice but to drop the stick and cover his ears with his other hand.
This wasn't caused by a monster.
This was caught by Sansa.
After the shouting ended, Joffrey raised his hand and slowly brushed away the muddy claw that had poked his nose.
"Bran, stop climbing up and down, what if you fall?"
"The Stark family already has many legends named Brandon; we don't need you to add another 'Fallen' Brandon."
The monster froze for a moment, then with a twist of its waist, it nimbly flipped onto the tree branch.
He sat on top, swinging his legs, grinning with his filthy mouth: "Didn't I look convincing?"
The Duke of Eddard's child was also named Brandon, but thankfully everyone only called him by his nickname, which helped to distinguish them.
"Yes, yes, yes." Joffrey nodded earnestly. "But you didn't come here just to scare us, did you?"
Sansa, still in shock, finally realized what was happening and her face turned bright red with anger.
"I'm going to tell my mother!"
"No, please." Bran slid down from the tree, his ingratiating smile carrying a mischievous slyness.
"Jon said Arya was brave and not easily frightened, so I hid here waiting for her to be called over."
A gray direwolf silently emerged from behind a tree and affectionately licked the back of his hand.
"Who would have thought that you would be hurt by mistake?" He scratched his head and shoveled off piles of dirt.
"Then you'll need to practice how to act a lot," Joffrey laughed.
"You're familiar with the Sacred Tree Forest, could you lead us to see the Heart Tree?"
"Of course you can." Bran glanced cautiously at Sansa, who was still sulking. "You won't tell Mom, will you?"
"If the prince doesn't mind, why should I?" Her voice still sounded a little defiant.
The three people and the wolf began to walk deeper into the Sacred Tree Forest.
The closer you get to the center, the dimmer the light becomes.
The branches of those towering ancient trees intertwine in mid-air, weaving a dense, impenetrable net. The leaves underfoot grow thicker and thicker, soft and quiet to the touch.
An invisible pressure began to build up here, as if the entire forest was staring at them, these intruders.
Then, they saw it.
In the heart of the sacred forest, a huge and ancient weirwood tree stands in the middle of a pool of dark, cold water.
Its outer bark is grayish-white like bone, and its deep red leaves resemble bloodstained hands, trembling slightly in the stagnant air.
A deep, melancholy face is carved into the tree trunk, each line bearing the weight of time.
The deep-set eye sockets were filled with dried mangrove sap, and the traces of its flow snaked along the wood grain, forming chilling streaks of blood and tears.
"Father said that the Old Gods see through their eyes," Bran said, his voice unconsciously lowering.
But in this excessive silence, the horror becomes all the more palpable.
Joffrey nodded thoughtfully without raising any questions.
His gaze was fixed on that face, and a cold sensation slowly crept up his spine.
In the ensuing silence, the atmosphere grew even more eerie.
Sansa couldn't help but shiver, her icy fingers gently tugging at Joffrey's sleeve.
"I... let's go back, I'm a little scared."
This was an incredibly wise suggestion, and Joffrey agreed to it on the spot without making any changes.
But as they turned to leave...
Suddenly, a piercing caw, so mournful it seemed impossible for a crow to be heard from behind.
"Gahh ...
Joffrey was startled and turned around abruptly.
Those eyes were wide open, gushing out endless blood.
The large mouth in the wood carving is opening and closing, and the friction between the bark makes a teeth-grinding sound.
A cold, ancient voice exploded in his ear.
"Kid."
"Don't try to steal my person!"