Ned Stark, Shivering Isles – Oblivion

"AAAHHH!" Ned screamed, utterly disoriented as his body struck the ground of an unfamiliar beach, completely bewildered.

The fall hurt less than he had expected, although that did not mean the ground of this strange place was particularly welcoming. Eddard Stark let out a grunt of pain as his body hit the surface, feeling the impact reverberate through his back and shoulders. For several moments, he remained sprawled on the ground, struggling to catch his breath while an outrageous burst of laughter echoed in his ears.

"Oh, what a miserable way to land, Ned! I can call you Ned, can't I?" Sheogorath exclaimed, unable to contain his amusement, his expression filled with utter madness. "But don't worry! You'll have plenty of time to practice."

The mysterious man smiled broadly, regarding the Lord of Winterfell as though he had just witnessed the most entertaining spectacle of his existence. His eyes sparkled with almost childlike delight, although there was something profoundly unsettling about that expression, as though beneath his absurd demeanor lurked a monstrous and terrifying power. Merely looking into those yellow orbs unsettled Ned more than anything he had ever experienced.

Ned did not respond.

At least, not immediately.

Instead, he began examining his surroundings with growing interest, his breath catching at what he saw.

The Lord of Winterfell shook his head and began to rise. Supporting himself on one arm, he slowly managed to sit upright while attempting to organize his thoughts. His head was still spinning, and his senses seemed incapable of comprehending everything around him. He did not recognize this place. There was no familiar landscape, no castle, forest, or mountain that might help him determine where the hell he had ended up.

"Where…?" he murmured, raising a hand to his forehead. "Where am I?"

His gaze slowly swept across the horizon, and what he discovered only deepened his bewilderment.

Before him stretched an immense ocean, with no land visible on the horizon. There was only an apparently endless expanse of tides so dark that the water appeared black in places, disappearing beneath a mist so dense that it was impossible to distinguish anything more than a few meters from the shore. The fog drifted silently across the surface, forming pale banks that seemed to move without the slightest assistance from the wind, concealing whatever might exist beyond them.

Although, considering the…unsettling silence, it hardly seemed as though anything else existed at all.

Could he be dead?

Ned wondered, with considerably less fear than he might have expected.

He frowned, searching for some recognizable landmark amid that endless expanse. There were no ships, no islands, not even the distant outline of an opposite shore. Only water and fog, stretching in every direction until they vanished into a darkness that seemed to possess no boundaries.

But the truly bewildering sight was above his head.

The sky held no sun, no clouds, and no stars. In truth, Ned was not even certain that it could be called a sky.

Above him stretched an endless void, painted in different shades of purple, slowly revolving around itself like a gigantic whirlpool. Its currents twisted and coiled around one another.

It was…unsettling and beautiful at the same time.

Ned could not even find the words to describe it. The magic radiating from this entire place was…monstrously powerful, but somehow corrupted as well.

The Lord of Winterfell raised his head slightly, following that perpetual movement with his eyes. The longer he watched, the stranger the sensation became. He could not determine whether the whirlpool was infinitely distant or directly above them, nor could he tell whether it was truly moving or whether his own eyes were deceiving him.

It was bewildering.

Unnatural.

This entire place seemed to exist beyond the laws Ned had known throughout his life.

"Madness, isn't it?" Sheogorath suddenly interjected, evident satisfaction and pride filling his voice.

Ned abruptly turned toward him, startled by the interruption. The mysterious man was admiring the landscape with his hands slightly outstretched and a proud smile, as though he had just shown the Lord of Winterfell one of his most treasured possessions.

"Absolute madness! HAHAHA!" Sheogorath added.

His eyes, gleaming like amber, disturbed Ned in a way few things ever had. That being was…unnatural. Bizarre.

And he seemed to take pride in it.

"The magic feels strange here," Lord Stark murmured, frowning slightly as he examined his surroundings. "This sensation is completely different from anything I know. Unnatural and bizarre."

Eddard closed his eyes for several moments, attempting to concentrate on the familiar warmth his master had taught him to recognize.

The touch of the Old Gods.

He searched deep within himself, attempting to reach that invisible current of power he had channeled so many times before, trying to find the warmth to which he had grown so accustomed.

His magic was still there, but his connection was…strange.

Weakened.

Diffuse.

Almost distant.

It was like attempting to hear a familiar voice from the other side of a thick stone wall, knowing that it was still calling to him but being unable to distinguish the words.

Something was wrong with this strange and terrifying place, Ned thought with a frown.

Sheogorath, of course, found the entire situation tremendously amusing.

"Obviously!" the mysterious man exclaimed, bursting into laughter as though he had somehow heard Ned's thoughts. "You're in Oblivion, my dear Ned! The Shivering Isles, to be precise. A wonderful place, although I must admit the hospitality leaves quite a bit to be desired on certain occasions! But don't worry, I'll prepare a feast for your next visit! HAHAHA!"

Ned swallowed.

If it were up to him, he would never return to this fucking place, he thought tensely.

The Prince of Madness waved a hand dismissively, as though finding oneself in an entirely different dimension were the most natural thing in the world.

Ned watched him carefully and cautiously, attempting to understand the complicated situation in which he found himself, although the stranger's smile inspired very little confidence.

"Your connection to the Aetherium and the Aedra is much weaker here," Sheogorath explained, suddenly adopting an almost academic tone as a strange pair of spectacles appeared upon his face. "But don't worry! There are plenty of magical tricks you can learn by connecting directly to the dimension of Oblivion. Tricks far more interesting, entertaining, and stimulating than all that boring Kynareth nonsense you're accustomed to!"

Sheogorath burst into another fit of laughter, evidently delighted with his own explanation.

Ned, meanwhile, merely regarded him with profound bewilderment.

He barely understood a fraction of what the man was saying, and the ease with which he spoke of dimensions, gods, and alternative sources of magical power only increased his suspicions.

"Although, now that I think about it…" the Prince continued, raising a finger as though he had just remembered something of extraordinary importance, "I didn't bring you here to give you magic lessons!"

Sheogorath slowly shook his head, adopting an expression of false severity.

"No, no, no. That can wait until after teatime. Magic lessons are always much more pleasant with a good cup of tea! Although we could serve cheese instead. Do you like cheese, Lord Stark? I absolutely adore it!"

Ned opened his mouth slightly, preparing to respond, but the mysterious man gave him no opportunity.

"Anyway! The important thing is this."

Sheogorath raised both hands and clapped twice.

The sound was surprisingly ordinary, merely two sharp claps that echoed briefly along the deserted shore.

However, the environment reacted immediately.

Before Eddard Stark's incredulous eyes, the dense mist covering the ocean began retreating almost instantly, consumed and absorbed by the dark waters, gradually revealing everything it had concealed.

Ned rose completely to his feet, momentarily forgetting the pain of his fall.

His gray eyes remained fixed upon the horizon, following the movement of that immense curtain of fog while the strange Prince watched his reaction with a smile of absolute satisfaction.

Each passing moment revealed another portion of the landscape.

The mist retreated, indistinct shapes began taking form, and what had moments earlier appeared to be an endless ocean finally revealed that something far greater lay hidden beyond its dark waters.

Lord Stark took an involuntary step forward.

His breathing stopped for an instant as his eyes slowly widened at what was beginning to emerge before him.

And when the last remnants of mist finally dispersed, Eddard Stark stood completely motionless, contemplating a vision that simply stole his breath away.

Ned had witnessed countless wonders since beginning his apprenticeship in the magical arts. Green sight was a marvelous gift, but according to his own master, his mind protected itself by limiting the reach of his visions.

Consequently, none of those visions could compare to what now stretched before his eyes.

There, emerging from an infinite ocean of mist and darkness, stood a tree of inconceivable proportions, so immense that its roots seemed to plunge into the very foundations of existence, while its branches extended beyond anything his gaze could reach.

It seemed to possess neither beginning nor end.

It simply existed.

And that realization filled Ned with caution.

Its trunk was colossal, formed from dark bark crossed by countless streams of bluish, silver, and golden light.

There were no leaves, at least not as Ned understood them.

Instead, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of luminous spheres hung among its branches, each containing landscapes, cities, armies, and people who appeared to move within tiny suspended worlds.

As though…everything were happening simultaneously.

Some displayed immense fortresses erected upon impossible mountains. Others showed cities consumed by flames, oceans crossed by thousands of vessels, and battlefields where entire armies marched toward certain death.

The images changed constantly, unfolding within those spheres as though each contained a story of its own, separate from the others and yet somehow connected to the rest of the tree.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sheogorath asked, appearing calmly beside the Lord of Winterfell. "And to think some mortals still believe time is a straight line! What a dreadful lack of imagination. A rope would be far more interesting. You can tie knots in it!"

Ned barely heard him.

His gray eyes wandered across the countless scenes shining among the branches, unable to comprehend the true magnitude of what he was witnessing.

"What is this?" he finally asked, his voice filled with wonder.

"History, my dear Ned! History, time, possibilities, and all those delightful things that drive scholars mad! Before you stands something I don't offer just anyone…choice," Sheogorath replied, spreading his arms proudly. "Mastering them isn't nearly as complicated as mortals imagine. The past, the present, the future…Bah! All of it can be observed, bent, and twisted with sufficient knowledge. But controlling everything would be terribly boring, you know? Where would the surprise be? The entertainment? The madness and excitement? The wonderful uncertainty? The flavor of life! HAHAHA!"

Ned could only stare in astonishment.

He knew perfectly well that this vision was not meant for mortal eyes.

This…this was the domain of gods.

Slowly, Lord Stark turned toward the strange old man, who returned his gaze with an expression filled with amusement and barely concealed excitement.

Ned swallowed before asking hesitantly.

"What are you?"

Sheogorath burst into thunderous laughter.

"HAHAHA! Me? Why, I'm merely a lover of a good story, an agent of chaos and destiny! I am Sheogorath! Daedric Prince of Madness! HAHAHA!"

The Daedric Prince snapped his fingers, and one of the spheres slowly descended until it floated before them.

Its surface shone brightly, revealing a landscape Ned recognized immediately.

The North.

Although a North very different from the one he had known throughout his life.

A vision any Stark would recognize instantly.

Before his eyes, giants and men worked upon a colossal construction of ice, so enormous that it disappeared beyond the horizon.

The image changed shortly afterward, revealing the first foundations of a fortress being raised around an ancient godswood.

The breath left the Lord's lungs as he watched enormous beings standing more than five meters tall move gigantic stones, while oxen dragged absurd quantities of timber and rock toward the foundations of what would someday become his home.

They were directed by a tall man with a rugged face and brown hair, shouting orders in the Old Tongue as he oversaw everything around him.

A familiar fortress.

One Eddard knew as intimately as the palm of his own hand.

It had been his home throughout his entire life, after all.

"The Wall…being built!" Ned murmured in wonder.

"And Winterfell!" Sheogorath added cheerfully. "Stone, ice, and promises. An eternal guardian, designed to be impregnable, even against the most relentless of winters!"

With another movement of his hand, the images transformed.

Ned beheld an ancient civilization, as infamous as it was magnificent.

Children of fire.

A land of ashes and burning volcanoes, where enormous dragons soared above cities of inconceivable splendor.

Towers so tall that the heavens themselves seemed too small to contain them.

And then came the flames.

Entire mountains erupted, the earth split open, and that civilization vanished beneath an ocean of fire.

All in the blink of an eye.

An entire continent.

Those immense towers, once so breathtaking…reduced to mere smoking rubble.

Ned did not need to be a genius to understand what the fuck he was witnessing.

Anyone with even the most limited education would recognize it.

"Valyria," Sheogorath explained with a smile. "A marvelous empire, especially when it decided to blow itself to pieces through its own stupidity! HAHAHA! What a spectacle! Playing with something as delicate as that damned Heart…even I'm not mad enough to meddle with Lorkhan, you know? HAHAHA!" the mad old man declared.

Ned had absolutely no idea who the fuck Lorkhan was, but it was a name he intended to investigate when the opportunity arose.

For now, he had more important concerns.

Such as getting the hell out of here, he thought desperately.

The scenes continued changing.

Ned witnessed the Century of Blood, and gradually his eyes began recognizing more familiar events.

More specifically, he watched three dragons take flight from Dragonstone.

Castles burned beneath their shadows, and the banners of numerous kings eventually bowed before a new dynasty.

Ned recognized the conquest of Aegon Targaryen, although he barely had time to comprehend it before the images shifted once again.

"All of that has already happened," the Northman murmured, unable to tear his gaze away as he watched House Targaryen slaughter itself during the Dance.

"Of course! But what has already happened is far less interesting than what might still happen! Or have you already forgotten how we ended up here? You were being naughty and wanted to change the past! HAHAHA! Although don't consider that a reprimand. Quite the opposite! Consider me a fan of your intentions. Nothing like a little chaos in the flow of time!"

Sheogorath smiled in a manner Ned found particularly unsettling.

But before he could say anything about it, the images changed, leaving the past behind…

And then the tree showed him the future.

He saw Robert Baratheon dead, crowns claimed by different men, including his own son, and the Seven Kingdoms torn apart by an endless war.

The banners of Stark, Lannister, and Baratheon marched across corpse-covered fields, while entire cities suffered the consequences of their lords' ambitions.

"The War of the Five Kings," Sheogorath announced, this time in a strangely calm voice.

Ned nodded helplessly, having seen those damned images more times than he could remember.

The tragic end of his beloved family.

Robb.

Rickon.

Catelyn.

Arya.

Bran.

Sansa.

Merely thinking about them filled Ned with infinite sorrow, alongside a fury he could barely contain.

His blood ran cold.

But before he could speak, another sphere illuminated and revealed Castle Black.

There stood Jon, dressed in the black of the Night's Watch, surrounded by men whose faces the Lord of Winterfell could not distinguish.

Then came the knives.

That damned scene that haunted him every fucking night.

The proof of his broken promise to his beloved sister.

The betrayal committed by that wretched fucking order.

"Jon!" Ned whispered with a sigh, watching the tragic end of his son.

He quickly shook his head and turned toward the…God accompanying him, who was watching everything while laughing.

"Enough!" the Lord of Winterfell demanded, turning toward Sheogorath. "What kind of monster finds amusement in such atrocities?"

The Prince of Madness's smile slowly disappeared.

For the first time since Ned had met him, Sheogorath seemed to seriously consider his words.

He contemplated the images of destruction still unfolding within the tree for several moments before releasing a deeply disappointed sigh.

"Oh, don't misunderstand me, Lord Stark. I adore chaos! Surprises, betrayals, absurd decisions, and the wonderful disasters mortals create when they think they know what they're doing," he replied, partially recovering his enthusiasm. "But this!"

He pointed contemptuously toward the cities being consumed by flames.

"Destruction for destruction's sake. Death, ashes, and more death. What an appalling lack of imagination! That's more Mehrunes Dagon's sort of thing. Breaking things, burning cities, toppling empires…Always so obsessed with his damned destruction!"

Sheogorath shook his head, visibly disgusted.

And Ned, at least for a moment, found himself breathing a little easier.

Perhaps…perhaps he might actually escape this place alive, Lord Stark thought as he prepared to continue listening.

"No, no, no. True chaos requires possibilities, my dear Ned. It needs people making the wrong decisions for the right reasons, kings losing their crowns over some idiotic mistake, and heroes discovering that their enemies aren't nearly as wicked or ruthless as they imagined. Now that's entertaining! But a world reduced to ashes holds nothing interesting. The dead make a dreadful audience, you know? They never laugh at my jokes!"

Ned remained silent, still deeply disturbed by everything he had witnessed.

His thoughts returned again and again to Jon, to the wars threatening his home, and to the countless lives seemingly destined to be lost.

"Then why are you showing me all of this?" he finally asked.

Sheogorath slowly turned his face toward him.

His yellow eyes gleamed with that familiar madness Ned was beginning to recognize far too well.

"Because, my dear Ned…" he replied, his smile growing wider and wider, "I believe the time has come to move a few things around! I've seen what you were trying to accomplish, like a little blind and foolish child wandering through the multiversal spiral. It was so adorable that I have decided to help you! HAHAHA!"

The Prince raised a hand toward the immense tree.

Between his fingers appeared a tiny sphere of light that slowly revolved, displaying countless images of Westeros, while the branches of the colossal cosmic tree seemed to tremble in response to his will.

"Not much, of course. Just a little nudge here, a different decision there! Perhaps a conversation that was never supposed to happen, a letter that wasn't intercepted…a death that arrives far too early…or far too late. The possibilities are delicious!"

Sheogorath burst into laughter and closed his fingers around the tiny light, filling it with unstable, erratic red energy before throwing it back toward the tree.

The entire cosmic colossus shuddered as it felt the change imposed upon it by this God.

"After all, Lord Stark, what is time if not another canvas? I've made a few changes I'm certain you'll enjoy! HAHA!"

Ned regarded the powerful and unpredictable being with a mixture of fear and growing understanding.

"And as for Aegon…don't worry about the boy! HAHAHA! He's come a very long way, you know? Besides, he enjoys special protection from the Big Boss. None of my brothers are stupid enough to meddle with the Chosen of Akatosh," Sheogorath declared with a smile.

Ned stared at him in absolute shock before asking desperately.

"Do you know where he is? Is my son all right?"

Sheogorath roared with thunderous laughter.

"Oh, he's more than all right! Aegon Targaryen, Jarl of Solitude, Winter Lord, Dragonborn, and future Emperor of Nilfgaard…Conqueror of Novigrad, Supreme Sorcerer of the Lodge of Sorceresses, and the Scourge of Redania! HAHAHA! Oh, believe me, little Ned…the story of Aegon is far from over. In fact, I'd dare say it's only just beginning!"

Sheogorath smiled with that demented expression.

Ned simply swallowed before nodding softly.

Lord Stark opened his mouth to ask another question, but Sheogorath interrupted him.

"Our time is up, Ned! But don't worry! I'll be watching your new adventure very, very closely. And to show you what a wonderful host I am, take this!"

The Prince smiled as a red glow appeared in Ned's hand, giving way to a kind of…strange staff.

It was made from a type of wood Ned had never seen before, black in color, with terrifying faces carved into its upper portion.

"Allow me to introduce…the Wabbajack! You'll figure out how to use it eventually. Tell that pretentious four-legged fellow to teach you how it works. Tell him old Sheogorath sent you…I guarantee you'll get a few good laughs out of his reaction!"

Ned opened his mouth, preparing to respond…

When an intense light invaded his vision, blinding him instantly.

A moment later, he felt a violent tug somewhere behind his navel.

And the next thing he knew…

He was back in his beloved home, lying against the Heart Tree of Winterfell.

Ned gasped as he scrambled to his feet, looking around in complete agitation.

The mysterious staff remained in his hand, glowing softly.

Ned glanced around, still dazed, but considerably calmer now that the damned adventure had finally ended.

"It's over," Ned whispered with a heavy sigh, regarding the immense Heart Tree with far greater respect and caution.

And at that moment, Ned noticed something…very strange.

Something that caused his eyes to widen slowly in surprise.

The Heart Tree…was enormous!

At least twice as large as Eddard remembered it.

The magic emanating from it was…simply monstrous!

Merely standing nearby made Ned tremble, sending shivers through his entire body.

"What the fuck?" he muttered to himself.

But before Ned could say anything else, a feminine voice suddenly rang out.

A voice Eddard had dreamed of hearing every night for more than a decade.

"Ned!"

The breath left Lord Stark's chest as he slowly turned around.

His words died upon his lips when he beheld the beautiful, ethereal vision that had haunted his nights.

A woman with warm, cinnamon-colored skin and purple eyes, dressed in clothing suited to the North, although the colors of House Dayne were clearly visible.

"Ashara?" he asked in an extraordinarily soft voice, trembling and unable to say anything more.

At least until the beautiful woman walked toward him, regarding him with concern.

"My husband, news from the capital. Lord Brandon has summoned us to his solar in the Main Keep" Ashara declared, taking Ned's hand with extraordinary gentleness.

Ned felt the breath leave his body completely.

He opened and closed his mouth without uttering a single word, utterly shocked.

"News?" he asked in confusion.

Ashara nodded quickly, concern evident on her face.

"Yes, my love. Prince Aegon…Lya's boy…has disappeared. King Rhaegar is furious. Come, I'll explain everything when we're with your brother," his apparent wife declared, taking his hand and pulling him toward the fortress.

Although only one word echoed through Ned's mind.

Shit.

Ned was so distracted that he failed to notice Sheogorath sitting upon a branch of the Heart Tree, laughing quietly to himself and murmuring.

"Let the show begin!"