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Winterfell

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This has never happened to me. I mean angry former girlfriend calling me bastard because I slept with their best friend or sometimes their mother or, their sister isn't exactly new. A woman's husband out for my blood, that is also not exactly new either. Common occurrence really.

However, a woman calling me a bastard AND throwing a bowl of stew for sitting at the table is entirely new. Well, given that I am completely new in this world, it is obvious I have no fucking clue as to what is going on.

So, I ran. I ran as if the hounds of hell were after my ass. In a way, that was the case. The Grim Reaper himself had given me a job and if I failed, not only was I going to burn in hell, my godson and my cousin, they would both suffer.

As I ran, I noticed my surrounding. I was in a bloody castle. A bloody big castle. Not particularly well maintained. Nothing grand like Black Manor but it was something all right. Grim and dark enough to do Grandpa Arcturus, the Black of Black proud. There were guards posted everywhere - honest to god armor wearing, sword swinging guards.

Apparently the reaper had dumped me into a medieval castle and the woman who yelled at me was most likely the head bitch in charge. I am truly fucked, aren't I?

Then I noticed something. I wasn't running as fast as I should be. By now I was out of the castle and well into the woods but my steps were shorter, my speed was much slower. So, I stopped and tried to gather myself.

Fuck, fuck, fuckty fucky fuck fuck. I was in a child's body. Six, perhaps seven years old. Then memories started coming. My name, or the name of the body I was in, was Jon Snow. Turns out, I am the bastard of Lord Eddard Stark, who happened to be the husband of that red headed harpy.

Apparently bastards aren't treated well in this world and well, despite this Lord Eddard being a more than decent father to Jon Snow, the rest of the world and his wife in particular had been extremely united in telling him how much of a bastard he was. Never let him forget about the bastard-iness. And the father did nothing to protect him. Bloody wimp.

The last few months had been especially worse. Eddard Stark had rode off to battle some Greyjoy Lord and Catelyn Stark, the crazy bitch was at full swing. Long story short, Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell was having the time of his life – in a round about fashion. She was smart enough not to hurt him physically but mental abuse? Heck, mother (as in my mother, Walburga Black) could take lessons from her. In a way, Jon Snow was living in his own Druzkaban.

Catelyn had given birth to a daughter, Arya Stark just a month ago. Turns out, the infant had taken a shine upon Jon and well, the mother bitch did not like it one bit. So, Jon Snow, well, I suppose that would be me, was NOT eating enough, was getting yelled at. Had been working in the stables, wasn't allowed to play with Robb, my brother who also happened to be my best friend. Shitty life to say the least. Even Walburga wasn't this bad despite getting sorted into Gryfindor and proclaiming for the muggleborn (my reason for siding with muggleborn had more to do with the Marlyn Monroe poster then any idea of right and wrong. Those beautiful lips – oh yeah!).

However, now that Jon Snow had turned into Sirius Black, best watch out Catelyn Stark, Lord Black is here and he is NOT going to take this abuse. No ma'am. I am the Black of Blacks. "I am Sirius Black, no body's bitch, YOU are mine" [AN: Guess where I stole this quote from?]

Well, lets figure out how to make the bitch pay, shall we? Father had left almost a year ago – year 289 AC, it was almost year 290. I heard the maester (what is wrong with these muggles? Maester? What kind of word is that? The proper way of saying is "MASTER". And the only way I like to hear that word is from a hot woman when we are doing some role-playing. BDSM can be very much fun with the right woman. I, of course, would never dream to boss around a woman unless it was during our pre-agreed sexual games or if she was a bitch like Bella-bitch!) say the war was just about over. That meant Eddard Stark would be home soon. All I had to do was stay away from Winterfell until he came back.

Thing is, if I were to tell him about the abuse and everything straight out, he probably would not believe me or at least not act on it. But, if I were not there, he would have to investigate what the fuck happened. After he finds me, I would tell him my sob story at which point the ball would be in his court. He would at least have casus belli to do something for me, like give me a proper last name. Actually, I was going to coerce him on that but it's the same thing, eh?

A month later, Winterfell – Eddard Stark POV

Greyjoy rebellion had been put down decisively. The only reason it took that long was because we did not have enough ships to land troops in the islands. Once we fixed the ship situation, it was easy to put those pirates where they belonged: watery graves.

And now, I am finally back home. Battle made me feel alive, had my blood pumping but it did nothing to alleviate the feeling of not being home. Winterfell always had this effect on me that simply cannot be described. It is the Stark blood in me. My children, my wife – they are all in Winterfell and I am finally there.

We had the customary greeting. Little Arya was a bundle of joy. Sansa was already acting like a little lady. Catelyn was always a restrained beauty. Robb, my heir was growing into a fine lord. Then I realized, Jon was nowhere.

I looked around and asked, "Where is Jon? Where is my boy?"

Robb quickly answered, "I don't know father. I have been searching for him since the last moon but mother says he has left and is not coming back."

"Left? Left? What do you mean he has left? Catelyn where is Jon? Tell me right now", I wasn't just angry – I was furious. I leave to fight a war and my lady wife chases away Jon? I swore Lya I would protect her son and gods forbid if anything were to happen to him. A part of me always wanted to tell Catelyn about the truth of Jon Snow's origin but truly I could not trust her to keep it to herself. Jon was the trueborn son of Lyanna and Rhaegar. He should be the king of Westeros. But, I swore to Lya I would protect him and having the world think he was a bastard was the only way to keep him safe.

Apparently it was not. These people have driven him away. Was he lying somewhere in the snow, dead of cold and hunger? Killed by wild animal?

"Rodrik, I had left you as the castellan when I was away. What happened? How was my son misplaced?"

Rodrik, spoke in a slow voice that hid his fear well, "My Lord, about a moon ago, I saw him run away from the dining hall during breakfast. He seemed afraid and before I could say anything, the boy was gone. I checked with the guards and he had ran off towards the forest. He used to go there to play once in a while so I did not think much on it my lord."

"And why would he be afraid in his own damn home?"

"Begging your pardon my lord, he is the bastard of Winterfell. He just lives here, this is not his home. Lady Stark has told that enough and.."

"WHAT? The boy has blood of Starks and you dare say this is not his home? Stark or Snow, blood is blood. How did you even think of that Rodrik? No – don't think. I am sure I know how. You are going to take the black or gods help me I will take your head myself. As for my lady wife, she will be dealt with by myself."

My wife, my beautiful wife who as it turns out is nothing but a hateful shrew, yells, "My lord, surely..."

"Not another word woman. I will deal with you soon enough. First, I have to find my son. SmallJon Umber, organize the men. We are going to find my son. GreatJon, you are in charge of my castle. Interview the servants. The Maester, everyone. Find out what the hell happened."

Robb chirruped, "Father, Can I come with you? Jon is my brother too. Can I come please?"

I hesitated for a bit but SmallJon spoke up, "My Lord, best bring the boy. He knows your son better than us – seeing Robb might make your bastard feel easier to come out form wherever he is hiding."

"Hiding?", I asked.

"Well, the wolfs wood is pretty dense. If one were to hide, you won't be able to find them unless they want to you to find them. Like the castellan said, the boy was afraid and so, I suppose he might be hiding."

After that, our party took off towards Wolfs wood. Tracking Jon wasn't particularly hard – he had broken plenty of twigs and branches. Some of the smallfolks reported a small, wild boy running around and stealing food. Unfortunately, he seemed to have burrowed deep into the forest.

It was almost a week till we hit paydirt. We found a campsite, poorly built and by a child's hand at that. A half eaten rabbit was nearby. Well, the boy was industrious to say the least. As we started yelling his name, Robb ran off from our party towards a particularly dense bush.

For a heart beat, I thought my eldest son and heir had gone mad, but he yelled, "Jon, why did you run? I searched for you for so long!"Then the bush moved and a dirt covered figure emerged. A clever trick it turned out. The boy had hidden himself so well that only Robb noticed him.

Jon was all skin and bones. Despite that, his eyes were full of life, power and defiance. His belt had animal skins hanging from it. A closer look revealed he was wearing some kind of fur – possibly a wolf or a fox.

"Why are you here?", his tone was cold, harsh. Was that the dragon I heard in his voice? Or was it my own father?

"Son, I am here to take you home."

"Home? I am home!"

"Winterfell is your home Jon, not here. Not this forest", shouted Robb.

"Your brother is right Jon. Winterfell is home to all Starks"

"What home? Your woman calls me a bastard. Your servants call me a bastard. I work in the stables all day long. I don't get to eat enough. At least here I eat what I kill. Fuck you!"

SmallJon Umber, always the loyal bannerman tried to reprimand him, "Watch it bastard, it is your lord you are talking to."

"Fuck you too. I was talking to the man who calls himself my father but lets his woman beat me. Fuck you all", he spat.

SmallJon and everyone in our search party were taken aback at the way he spoke and the words he said. No one had ever dared to speak like that to me.

SmallJon approached him, intent to teach the boy a lesson in manners when Jon pulled out a stone knife. How on seven hell did he make himself a knife?

"Come on fatso, I am going to carve you up real good. Come to your death fatto", Jon mocked him while dropping into combat stance.

Robb was already cheering his brother, "Go for it Jon, carve him up! Whooo Whooo!"

Things were already getting out of hand so, I decided to do the alpha wolf routine and, "ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU, ENOUGH! UMBER, THAT IS MY SON. How my sons talk to me is my business and my business alone. If they need to be disciplined, I will do so, not my bannermen. And Jon, don't threaten my bannerman – especially one who is 10 times heavier then you."

Jon just replied darkly, "means he is 10 times slower then me. I can take him."

Umber on the other hand just laughed, "He is truly your son Lord Stark. Only a Stark could challenge me with a tiny little stone knife."

"Regardless, I need to talk with my son. Everyone please give us some space please."

Once we had our (myself and the two boys) privacy secured, I turned to Jon and said, "Jon, I swore to your mother that I would keep you safe. The safest place for you is Winterfell. No one will ever call you a bastard ever again."

"Sure, not in Winterfell, but what about outside? You won't be able to protect me from everyone", he questioned.

Robb, in his infinite wisdom shouted, "Make him Jon Stark. Jon Snow doesn't make sense anyway."

"It is not that simple Robb. The moment I make him Jon Stark, Your grandfather will throw a fit. And unfortunately, I need your grandfather to keep the North safe from the south. I need that blasted Tully happy to keep our people fed when winter comes."

Robb was still unrelenting, "Then make a new house for him. Some of the old Starks became Karstark. Maybe Jon can be JarStarks?"

"Possible, quiet possible", that was a possibility.

Jon, who had been quiet so far spoke, "If I were to have a new name, I wish to chose one myself."

"What name do you wish for Jon?"

"Black. I wish to be known as Sirius Black."

"Lord Black? Lord Sirius Black? Huh strong name. I will have to talk with Robert about it. We will work something out. Now, we are going home, all right?", I asked.

Jon smiled slowly, cautiously while Robb cheered and raced to his pony. "It will be good to see Arya again. I missed her", Jon spoke.

"Well then, let's hurry home, shall we?"

Sirius Black POV, Winterfell

Hot damn, I did it. I changed my name from Jon Snow to Sirius Black. Well, not officially but it is in the works. The damn king is Ned's best friend and if they are anything like James and me, it won't be much of an issue.

Living in the wolfs wood for almost a month was perhaps the best time of my life. I practiced my magic – whatever part death had given me. I could cast flame freezing charm, impervious charm, strengthening charm and a few healing charm. I was able to cast my contraceptive spells but there effectiveness? Who knows. I would have to head to the whorehouse and do some testing – not that kind of testing. My body was 7 years old, so obviously I won't be able enjoy the finer points of life. I was going to use to contraceptive charm on all the whores and see whether there would be any pregnancies.

Hunting was fun too. I was able to cast a tiny bit of banishing spell so, couple that with some knives I made (sharpened rocks – flint), I hunted. Rabbits, foxes and so on. Good times.

If only I could turn into padfoot, I missed being able to turn in that giant grim like dog. The reaper had promised to provide me a Grim as a familiar but when?

Finally, the great Eddard Stark came to find his wayward bastard son. Me. Jon. Fucking. Snow. Initially, I was planning to play, "I am a scared, abused little shit" routine. But honestly, Sirius Black can't do scared. And well, I snarked. I threatened.

Regardless, I got what I wanted. Fuckin 'yeah.

While we were heading back to Winterfell, I did a bit of leglimency on Stark and discovered something interesting. I WAS NOT HIS SON. I was the son of his sister Lyanna and the crown prince Rhaegar Targaryen. And well, I would be the next king except for the fact that Robert would make mashed potato out of me if he ever found out.

Significant but utterly pointless for now. However, it did mean I might go for the throne at some point. Who knows what the future may turn out right? I mean if I were to take the throne, I would definitely reduce war and death, that would be less work for death – sort of factors into our agreement.

When we arrived in Winterfell, the atmosphere was rather tense. My previous leglimency scan had already enlightened me about what had happened, but still Catelyn "The Walburga" Stark being disciplined had me feeling rather good. Even then, a part of me wanted to fuck her. I mean that fiery red hair, sweet tits, well formed ass – the woman was made for fucking.

No wonder Neddy can't keep his hands off her. He already had 3 children with her – I bet he will put a bun in the oven within a month or two. Even if the two are feuding over good 'ol me, the man will find a way inside her skirts. She is that hot. Just so you all know, the first fuck I have in this world is going to be Catelyn Stark. Once puberty sets in, I am going to charm my way inside her cold heart and fuck her brains out.

Just like I predicted, the man did put a bun in the oven within a month of his arrival from the war. Apparently after he told her I was getting named as "Sirius Black", she decided I wasn't going to be a threat to her children. Stupid biddy – why would I be a threat to her kids? I mean sure the North is great and all, but I would rather aim for richer lands, warmer lands. Lands where no woman will have to wear thick fur. Land where woman can run around in bikini. That meant I would have to invent bikini but I could be industrious when I had to be. Bikinis and Thongs were going to be invented one way or the other.

On a smaller but equally important note, a number of servants, former servants are now heading to the wall. Mainly because they were party to keeping me broken and hungry and also because they tried to hide things from Neddy. BigJon Umber did quality work when it came to filtering shit out of Winterfell. SmallJon Umber would be serving as a temporary castellan until Ned could find a suitable replacement for Rodrik, the stupid, old bastard.

Finally, the best news of all. Theon Greyjoy, the hostage to keep iron island in check. The little squiddy bitch tried to bully me and well, my body might be seven year old but with magic at my tips, even a 7 year old can break bones. A single punch, laced with banishing charm had him down with broken nose. The resulting lecture was kind of worth it. Robb backed me up when I argued how the squiddy shit tried to call me a bastard. After that, father didn't make much of a fuss except for a stern, "Don't be too violent."

Ned had decided to legitimize me a year from hence, thus giving me almost 11 month to prepare. Prepare say you? I say make starved 4 foot tall 7 year old body into a respectable 5 foot 5" tall so that I could pass for a 14 year old. That way, I could start fucking around. With a bit of magic and a lot of eating, 11 month would be enough to squeeze 7 year of growth in a single year. And, why not? I already had an adult brain. I already had adult urges. By god, I wasn't going to waste any time on playing a little shit.

All the denizens of Winterfell were astonished at my sudden growth but it was chalked up to my happiness about upcoming legitimization. The maester agreed (with the help of some subtle suggestion planted via leglimency).

Soon, the three of us – myself, Robb and Father were headed to kings landing. Apparently, King Robert wanted to see me before confirming my new name and lordship. Well, Sirius Black had talked his way out of many sticky situation, a dumb shit medieval king should be no different.

AN: Sirius Black portrayed here is an an unhinged, a bit immoral and very much of a hedonistic bastard. Enough said. And now, addressing some reviews!

edBoy4926 – Bella won't be coming to Westeros. The shithole can't handle her.

Dericof Diname: Centuar was a typo. Should have been Centaur

Guest: Next time, leave a name. In our world, tricking someone into sex is definitely a rape. In the world of Sirius Black vs. his death eater cousin who wants to cut his heart out? It is a murky grey area. The morality will be up for debates and will continue to be addressed in later chapters. Like I said earlier, Sirius Black portrayed here is an unhinged, a bit immoral and very much of a hedonistic bastard. Roll with it.