I hope you all enjoy! Sorry I've been on deployment for so long it made me write on my phone without my computer back home. So I thought up this idea for a story. I'm on a shit ton of chapters so far. So regular updates. I'm not done with a winds of change story either. Just started this one and we'll see where it leads. It's a story that's plot is tied with the batman beggining movie, The beggining origins of Jon's training and some other parts of the story will have some of the batman begins flavor to it, but for the most part after the beggining its done. Last thing, I swear if they do one of two things. Kill of Jon because he's the heir and Daenerys grows to hate that. Make Jon the Night King, Or disband the Iron throne. I will be so done. I honestly think they will all live till perhaps episode 5 or 6 but we'll see. Either way I love me some Jon and Dany action. , Comment, Follow. Please. I think this is pretty unique so I love to hear from you guys. Enjoy!
He was close, so incredibly close. He could see a puff of dark grey smoke protruding from the top of the tower. The tower itself looked as if it had been there for centuries. Surely not what he had expected when given the invitation. Ducard the man who visited him in his jail cell, was clear whoever was in charge of this tower controlled a great deal of respect from the criminal underworld.
The more time he spent here in these foreign lands, the more he realized just how far from home he truly was. The buildings he had become so accustomed to here were far from the ones in Westeros.
The wooden tower was an easy landmark from where he stood. The tower itself arched into the shape of a pillar, with a great number of overhangs as far as the eye could reach. Blood Red with a mixture of wooden polishing. If he wasn't on the verge of collapsing from the climb he could actually admire the craftsmanship of it.
His hands were at the point of no return. Jon reached into his tunic pocket for the flower he was tasked to find. He patted it, as if to confirm it wasn't lost somewhere on his way up. This was the moment of truth. His body couldn't take much more of this. The cold of the mountain was affecting his core right down to the bone. He never thought it were possible to be this cold. Of course since he was part northerner he had heard stories of how cold beyond the wall would be. But, since he left Westeros as a boy, he couldn't imagine it being colder than this. Ever.
It wasn't just the chill of the mountain tops that pushed his body to it's limits. The climb and trudging through the snow sent his body on the brink of collapse.
After what seemed like an eternity of frozen hell, he was coming upon the tower. He took a deep breath of anticipation. He was hoping that whatever Ducard told him about finding what he was looking for. Since he landed here in Panaj, he had heard a number of stories regarding whom Ducard was speaking for. Raj Il Son. Legends after Legends had filled his ears since he landed here. A sell sword of the highest respect, master warrior, feared by all the underworld, some even swore that he was even immortal.
Ducard had merely chuckled when he told him that. Saying "Raj Il Son uses theatricality and deception as powerful weapons.
He could see light from the inside of one of the top windows of the temple. He walked towards the massive doors of the temple. Jon unwrapped the blue flower from his pocket and pounded on the doors. Wincing as his frostbitten hands made contact with an ice covered wooden door.
Nothing. He pounded one more time but still no answer. He hit his forehead against the door. Racking sobs began to appear in his throat. If no one answered he was to surely die here. His pounding accelerated to a frenzy on the wooden door. He was begging now. He knew that.
Finally the doors began to creak open. The sound was a joy to him. He breathed a sigh of relief. At the very least he wouldn't die out in the snow. Jon straightened himself out, as the door swung open to darkness.
Jon limped forward into the unknown. The halls were filled with flickering lamps on all sides and pillars that were spaced evenly leading to a raised platform. One figure sitting at the top. Jon shuffled in, unlacing some of the outerwear so they could feel the warmth from within.
The door behind him slammed shut. Startled he unsteadily walked towards the man sitting at the top. Raj Il Son. He became nervous. Would he die here. A forgotten prince left to die in foreign lands, unknown by any westerosi. But to his people in Westeros more like a forgotten unwanted bastard given a righteous death.
"Raj Il Son?" Jon hoarsely called out.
Out of nowhere a great number of warriors of different races emerged from the shadows. Bows drawn aimed at him, others carrying swords each of them sheathed and ready to use. He freezed. Unable to even consider fighting off this many people
"Wait" a voice calmly stated
The warriors held their position, none moving even an inch. Jon looked for the whereabouts of the command. Leaning on the pillar closest to Raj stood Ducard.
Jon pulled out the blue rose and presented it to him. His hands shaking. He had to have looked a mess.
Raj began to speak in one of the languages native to these lands. He never did try to learn the language. His hopes being he would find his purpose and return to his home. Ducard began to translate once Raj was finished.
"Fear has been your guide. But now you must move forward or fear will keep you on your knees. We will help you conquer your fear. In exchange you will renounce all titles and claims of terrestrial power, renounce all the cities of mankind. You will live in solitude, become a member of the league of shadows, and become fearless."
Ducard took the flower from his palm. Tilting it in his hand and observing the petals closely. His gaze returned to Jon.
"Are you ready to begin?" He challenged.
Jon was shaking with fatigue and hunger hitting him hard. Ducard thread the flower through the buttonhole to his tunic.
Jon's eyes followed his every move. "Ready? I… I can barely-"
Ducard kicked him hard in the stomach sending Jon crashing to the floor.
"Death does not wait for you to be ready.." He slammed his heel into Jon's ribs.
He tried crawling away, he was gasping for air. The kick knocked the wind out of him, and the slam into his ribs had to have broken one of them.
Ducard stood calm. "Death is not considerate, or fair. And make no mistake, today, death is your opponent." He turned whipping his leg into a vicious kick to Jon's neck. But Jon was ready this time.
He blocked the incoming kick with a sweeping motion of his forearm. His eyes were now blazing at Ducard. Ducard merely smiled.
Jon assumed a stance. It was strange. This wasn't a sword fight. He of course had learned how to fight without his weapon. Especially since coming hear. But nothing taught to him from Sir Roderick, could prepare him for this.
Ducard struck Jon with a punch which was blocked and parried. He countered with a strike of his own. Sending a kick to Ducard's ribs which was easily batted away. The fluid motion of skill taught to him from sword fighting was on full display here.
"I see your Northern upbringing inside castle was has brought you some skill in battle. But this is not a dance."
Ducard came in close quarters to Jon. he gripped his neck tightly and delivered three powerful knees. One to his body, one to his chin, and another one to his forehead. Jon was seeing stars right now.
"Facing death you will learn the truth" Duard smashed his elbow across Jons temple sending him to the ground hard. " You are weak"
Ducard sent a kick to his ribs that were already damaged beyond belief. "You are alone." He gripped Jon's chin slamming it into the ground hard. Jon was on the verge of being out like a lite. He couldn't respond, couldn't fight, and couldn't even stand.
"And you are afraid…" Ducard crouched down to Jon's side. Jon was barely awake. His body was slowly shutting down. Not just from the fight but the cold still took its toll on his body. He wasn't afraid in this moment. If anything he welcomed the darkness. Ducard looked him in the eye. "But not of me."
He took the blue rose off of his lapel and placed it into Jon's pocket. "Tell us Snow"
The room was slowly becoming darker and darker in Jon's eyes. "What do you fear" Jon's eyes dimmed but a dragon came into his view. It's roar sent Jon to the shadows.
Winterfell
It was a heated Northern day within the walls of Winterfell. Nowhere near the heat that encompassed Kings Landing or Dorne. But certainly hot enough to feel the sweat if you were outside working.
Inside the courtyard was the young heir to Winterfell Robb Stark. He looked regal as ever watching as his younger brother Bran practice his archery skills. Next to Robb stood Theon Greyjoy, Ned Stark's ward and hostage from the iron islands. He was leaning up against the beam holding up a balcony overlooking the training grounds. He seemed to be uninterested with the teachings for a young boy such as Bran. "Stop thinking so much Bran, Just take a deep breath, Hold, then release." Robb explained placing a comforting hand on the young boy's shoulder.
Bran nodded and prepared for another shot at the target. He notched the arrow tightly against his tiny chest. Sweat beads beginning to form across his forehead dripping to his cheeks. Finally after a long wait he fired. Missing the target completely. Robb and Theon broke into muffled snorts until finally both of them released laughs into the air. Bran's cheeks began to redden in embarrassment.
From on top of the tower stood Ned and Catelyn Stark, overlooking their younger son's practice. "Which one of you was an excellent marksman at ten?" He called down to the older boys. Each of them were silenced from the look of annoyance from the solemn wolf of Winterfell.
Ned smiled at Bran who's eyes still remained glued to the ground in defeat. "Go on Bran keep trying." Bran looked up to see his father's encouraging smile and his mother's loving gaze. He nodded quickly gripping another arrow from the table next to him.
Robb and Theon remained Silent watching with anticipation. Bran pulled back hard on the bow and kept his eye glued to the target with a great deal of concentration. Bran released his breath but before he let his finger slide off the string an arrow hit dead bullseye. Bran let go of the bow and turned to see his little sister Arya with a triumphant smirk on her lips.
He looked behind him once more to see if his eyes actually fooled him. But alas they weren't wrong the first time. Robb and Theon laughed harder than before as Arya did a quick curtsy mockingly. Bran chased after her as fast as he could while Arya ran away giggling.
The boys left chuckling to themselves. Ned and Catelyn both looked on in amusement. That was always going to be their little girl. Ned could see his sister in her more and more as she aged on.
Before they could even address the humor down below to one another, they were interrupted by Winterfell's Master of Arms Sir Roderick.
"My lord." addressing Lord Stark.
"My lady" he nodded to the both of them. His hair all over the place as if he just sprinted to find them.
"Sir Roderick, what news do you bring?" Lady Catelyn asked with a smile. She may not have been a northerner by birth, but living in the isolated kingdom for so long truly gave her an understanding of those who lived and served her husband.
"Our men have captured a deserter from the Night's watch my lord. Shall I ready the horses?" He questioned. His eyes showing nothing but duty approaching them.
Ned nodded. "Grab the boys and prepare the horses Sir Roderick." Ned commanded.
Catelyn shook her head "Do you have to?" She asked
Ned nodded. "He swore an oath Cat." Ned stated, that was the end of that short argument.
When it came to honor, vows, and truth. Lord Eddard Stark held much firmer than the rest of the seven kingdoms. That was what differentiated the North from all others. Honor and truth. Though Ned hadn't been always truthful. There was lie that would haunt his every dream.
"Law is the law my lady." Sir Roderick remarked.
"Tell Bran he's coming as well." Ned said.
"Ned. Ten is too young to see such things." She looked aghast by the thought of her little boy watching execution.
"He won't be a boy forever." He remarked. "And winter is coming."
The words of house stark always remained true. Winter was on its way. And one of the longest summers in recent memory certainly meant an even longer winter on the horizon. It didn't help when Jon Arryn was pronounced dead from King's Landing. Ned was beside himself. Not only was someone like Jon Arryn a father figure in his life. But now without him. Robert was coming to Winterfell for one purpose. Make him hand of the king.
At least Jon was away from Robert's madness. He knew it was close to five years. But he missed him dearly. He could only imagine the pure hatred Lyanna would scorn him with for allowing her boy to just get up and leave without anyone's knowledge. He may never know the truth. The truth of how much his mother loved him. That he never was a bastard at all. That his parents loved each other and the secret went with them to their graves.
"I'm so sorry Jon." He whispered to himself as he stared out the window of his solar.
"I pray you are safe, wherever you are." Of course no matter what Ned was prepared for if Jon should ever return. If he was still alive. He prayed he was.
He wrote a letter and sealed it shut, he trusted Lord Reed to give Jon the letter if for some reason he was unable to. It was sad to say but there were so many things ahead of that right now. For winter was coming, and he prayed to the old Gods it wasn't a brutal one.
Pajan
"And do you still feel responsible?" Ducard inquired. His eyes trained on the far mountains in front of him, it truly was beautiful. The mountains towered over everything with snow tops that looked as deep as the seas.
He lead Jon to the edge of the balcony. "My anger outweighs my guilt.." Jon said his eyes downcast.
"It wasn't your fault for being born, no matter how it occurred." Ducard said. He glanced at Jon reading his expression.
"I'm not angry or guilty as far as being born, but for how my parents acted. Because of their love it cost the seven kingdoms so many lives, resources, and honor. If they would've just told the truth it could've all been avoided..." Jon whispered out.
"It may have cost a little less lies but you never know. Your grandfather the "Mad King" could've easily ended many more lives if your father and mother told the truth." Ducard said. He turned and gripped Jon's shoulder while Jon simply nodded.
"Come" Ducard referenced down the hallway taking him to a room filled with boxes and strange looking bottles across many different tables. Ducard reached inside one of the smaller boxes and pinched a bit of powder. He flicked it toward Jon's feet.
A BANG erupted from his feet, Jon jumped back stunned. Ducard smiled good-naturedly.
"Advanced techniques of ninjitsu employ explosive powders." Ducard gestured for him to try himself
"As weapons?" Jon asked his eyes remained on the powder questionably.
"Or distractions. Theatricality and deception are powerful agents." Ducard smiled
"To be a great warrior is not enough. Flesh and blood, however skilled... can be destroyed. You have to be more than just a man in the mind of your enemies." Ducard gestured for Jon to throw the powder.
He threw it hard which resorted in a quick BANG. Ducard smirked and nodded in confirmation.
The last 6 months of training had been brutal on his body, he thought he knew soreness from sword training at Winterfell, but he was incredibly wrong. There were parts of his body he didn't know could be sore.
His fighting had improved on a whole new level, not just the way he was trained to wield a blade. But the way he saw battle, he was always taught honor in battle was important. It held no precedence in his mind now.
A fight was a fight, those who fight with honor are only damning themselves to an early grave.
He still missed home, his family, the ways of the north, the food that was provided. It was all so different here. He was no committed to the league. He was giving up his chance to be with his family again.
Today continued his sword training. He was excited. Out of all the training they got to do, he looked forward to sword training the most. Whether it be with dual wielding, basic fundamentals, skillful techniques, or overall sparring. He was turning into a top tier swordsman.
Though he was still not close to Ducard's skill level.
Jon and Ducard circled each other. Jon carefully positioned each foot as best as he could. Being on a frozen lake certainly upped the risks of injury.
"You can fight six men, we can teach you how to engage six hundred." Ducard stated still spinning his sword in his grasp tightly.
"You know how to somewhat disappear from the eyes of nobles and bounty hunters? We can teach you to become truly invisible"
Their swords were poised and ready to strike at any moment. Jon's eyes were determined.
Strike,strike, parry, counter, block, strike strike. The blows were coming in flurries. Consistently getting faster and faster. Ducard went for a side swipe of Jon's face.
Jon caught the blow between the three blades connected to his glove. Jon slid left disconnecting the blade. His breath was steaming across the lake. His sweat was almost frozen to his cheek despite the heat building from the battle.
Ducard swiftly struck Jon, he raised his sword to block but from the force of the blow he slid 3 feet away.
"Always be mindful of your surroundings"
Jon ignored the lesson and continued on, he swung hard. But this time his opponent was ready, Ducard lifted his gauntlet catching his blade this time. He brought Jon in close. "The cause of the rebellion was not your parents fault." He smirked
Jon's eyes became furious. He pulled with all his might to free his sword. Jon's anger becoming almost tangible.
"It was your father's." As Ducard pushed forward trapping his sword even more to his gauntlet Jon's anger was intensified. Jon pulled his sword out and lunged for Ducard.
Who's was standing patiently poised to deflect. Instead as Jon sent an upward strike to his chest Ducard caught his wrist with his gauntlet and flipped Jon like an egg.
Jon groaned in pain. "Anger does not change the fact that your father failed to act." Ducard sneered.
Jon sat up on his knees glaring daggers at his opponent. "The mad king was the reason! He burned my grandfather and uncle alive!" He shouted furiously.
"And would they have went to King's Landing if your father had told the truth? And when the war raged on. Was he prepared to act or did he full to the hands of Robert Baratheon? Would that have stopped you?" Ducard tested his steps sideways almost daring him to attack.
"I've had training." Jon whispered out standing to prepare for Ducard's swing.
"Your training!" Ducard bellowed swinging his sword hard knocking the sword from Jon's grasp. Jon's breathing calmed. Listening intently.
"Is nothing! The willingness to take control of the situation is everything. Your father trusted his prophecies, it's logic behind every move he made. He thought he could predict what was to come. And when something went against what he foresaw he failed to act which cost him his life!"
Jon stopped and calmed down completely taking in what he said. Taking it all to heart.
"Can Westeros be saved? Or is it another region ready for the ailment that struck Valaryia?" Ducard mused.
Jon shook his head. "You can't believe that. It's not beyond saving." Jon said with all the conviction he had in his heart.
"Is it? Or has its time come?" Ducard calmly questioned.
Jon jumped into actions. Jumping across Ducard's swipe of his sword running towards the sword he lost during the fight.
Gripping his sword Ducard swung downward toward Jon's neck. While Jon grappled his legs pulling him down to the snow. Jon stood on one of his knees, and pointed his sword inches from Ducard's neck.
Ducard froze with his hands towards his side. Jon smiled with triumph. "Yield"
Ducard smirked "you haven't beaten me." Jon's triumph turned to a look of questionable wonder. "You sacrificed sure footing for a killing stroke."
With that Ducard merely tapped the ice with the edge of his blade breaking it apart sending Jon into the darkness of the water.
Ducard and Jon sat by the fire, the flames bringing warmth to Jon's frostbitten handed. Ducard added more tinder to feed the fire. Jon sat in the snow shivering. He rubbed his arms violently trying to keep the hypothermia from hitting him.
"Rub your chest, your arms will take care of themselves." Ducard suggested.
Jon nodded in understanding and began warming his chest up.
"You have strength born of years of grief and anger Snow. The strength of a man denied vengeance"
"You are stronger than your father." Ducard merely stated still poking at the flames.
Jon frowned."You didn't know my father. I didn't even know my father"
"But l know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief... ...until the memory of your loved one is just... ...poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed... ...so you'd be spared your pain." Ducard muttered out. It was obvious he was feeling some sort of emotion.
" l wasn't always here in the mountains. Once, l had a wife. My great love. She was taken from me. Like you, l was forced to learn there are those without decency... ...who must be fought without hesitation, without pity. Your anger gives you great power. But if you let it, it will destroy you... ...as it almost did me."
Jon reacted at that. His eyes almost coming to a question mark.
"What stopped it?"
Jon asked so ready for something he could do.
"Vengeance" Ducard stated matter of factly
"That's no help to me." Jon muttered disappointed
"Why Snow?"
"Why could you not avenge your parents?"
Winterfell years prior
In the training yard Jon and Robb were sparring heavily. Each of them huffing and puffing, heads of sweat dripping down their faces. Though they both were tired it was obvious by the bruises who held the advantage.
"I'm on the verge of collapsing Snow." Robb laughed between breaths.
Jon smirked "I can do this all day."
Jon lunged forward pushing Robb with each swing of his sword. Robb barely holding on before he kicked Robb in the gut which sent him over the bench behind them.
Jon smiled in victory and began to walk away before Jon heard sir Roderick call for a maester.
"Lord Robb has been knocked unconscious someone grab maester Luwin!" He yelled.
Jon was mortified and quickly ran over. He saw Robb hit a stone on his fall down. Tears began to form in his eyes as his brother lay hurt.
Sir Roderick gripped his shoulder as the Maester appeared. "Don't stress lad, it was just an accident. You both were pushing each other too hard. I should've jumped in before something like this happened." He calmly stated. "Will he be okay Maester?" Jon's voice wavering.
"He should be okay little lad. He just needs some rest and he'll be okay, nothing but a bump. I can tell it wasn't a hard blow." The maester smiled reassuringly.
Before he could respond Lady Stark ran over as fast as wind. "What happened?!" She shouted caressing her son's cheek as he lay on the bench propped up.
"Just a training accident my lady. I'll have him up and better within the hour." The maester replied
Lady Stark glared at him..
Jon shrunk back into submission. "It was you wasn't it you spiteful bastard!" She shouted angrily. Jon tried explain himself but she wouldn't have any of it.
"Don't speak bastard! You and your jealousy of Robb's position over you sent you to hurting him!" She screamed.
"I'm sorry" Jon whispered as tears poured down his cheeks. He ran off into hiding. As the others tried calming her down.
Later that night after Robb had woke he apologized profusely. Robb laughed it off saying how dumb he was being. He did say he wanted payback in the training yard whenever he was done nursing his headache.
Jon was relieved to say the least. Especially considering how much he loved his siblings. Even Sansa whom ignored everything he did.
Jon was in his room getting ready for slumber when lady Catelyn burst through the door. "You will stay quiet and not speak unless I say." She whispered harshly.
Jon shocked by her sudden entrance just nodded dumbly.
"I don't care who your mother was, I don't care that your father is my husband, if I see you making yourself known to the public as more skilled than my son. There will be consequences. I want you gone and out of my life and the lives of my children. You're a terrible influence on them... but what could be expected of a bastard."
She glared at him. The roaring fire in Jon's room flickered. Jon was beyond tears at this point. He was beyond words of apologies. He was beyond caring at this point. He only nodded to stop the barrage of personal attacks.
"I swear to all seven gods that you will never inherit anything in Westeros. That for as long as you're here you will remain subjugated to lesser things. And when the day comes that your father decides it's time for your future to be decided... you will leave these lands or join the watch. It is far more than you deserved." With her little speech done she left his room. He never spoke to lady Stark ever again. For two nights later Jon overheard his father speak of his mother.
"I'm sorry Lyanna. Jon deserves far more than I can give him, but I can't make him a prince and the only way to protect him is to send him to the watch away from Robert's prying eyes..."
To this day he still couldn't believe it. He thought he must have heard wrong. Then "I wish I could do more for you and Rhaegar's heir. But there's nothing else I could ever do."
Jon's whole word was shattered that day, accompanied by Lady Stark's rant, he realized vengeance for his parents would never occur. But he needed to leave. He needed to find his way. He took a horse and stowed away on a ship from white harbor that night. To God knows where.
"What were you seeking when you left Westeros?" Ducard inquired. Shuffling the twigs to brighten the fire back up.
"To lose myself, I felt helpless as Jon Snow "The bastard of Winterfell", and I never wanted any connection to the Targayen family name. So what need is their for a unknown prince?" Jon said.
"We will fine use for you Snow. That much I can promise you."