Okay so this is my rewrite of Gamer's Grimoire. I was so moved by the positivity from last chapter. Aside from a few who were obviously trying to hurt me, everyone was awesome! I'm going to try to make the Gamer thing take a backseat on this story. I'm going to try to keep it fairly basic for the most part but things will be changed more or less.
Recap: "Aye, more than enough I think. I feel like a lifetime's passed." Jon replied, smirking at his own private joke. He was here. They were here. And he was going to make damn sure things ended better this time!
294 AC, Jon POV
Jon stood in the godswood, staring at the Heart Tree waiting for his father. Ever since the snowstorm, things were different. The godswood felt...stronger, more alive. The snowstorm, which Jon was sure was due to Drakhan's meddling with the Artifacts, had saturated all of Winterfell with mana down to the very stones of the castle. Jon could feel it everywhere he walked, but it was strongest here, in the godswood, swirling around the Heart Tree. They'd been snowed in for the better part of a fortnight and Jon had taken the time to enjoy it with his family. Arya and he had been practically joined at the hip for most of it and when he wasn't with her he was with Robb. It was strange and confusing, seeing everyone's faces. From the memories of Young Jon, he could instantly recognize just about every face in Winterfell. With the lifetime of experiences as Old Jon...he knew how most of them died.
Arya and Robb had been easy, somewhat. Arya who drowned at sea and Robb killed at the Red Wedding along with his wife, unborn child, and Lady Stark. It was easy to avoid her as she had been avoiding him. Sweet Sansa, innocent and still believing in songs and tales, who had cried at seeing him awake and hugged him. He never wanted what those monsters had done to her to happen again. Gods! Seeing Bran smile widely was a big relief and Rickon...well it was good to see him alive again without running from Ramsay's arrows.
It was hard looking at everyone, knowing their possible fate.
Seven hells! The first time he saw Theon, he'd been caught between a storm of anger, pity and relief. Anger over the words he said about Jon's mother, over the fact that he had betrayed House Stark, and would do it again. The anger fell to justification and later pity upon remembering what Ramsay Bolton, (now Snow, he'd need to keep that in mind) had done to him. The relief came upon reflecting on the mass funeral that was held after the Second Long Night out just past the North Gate. He remembered Theon had taken Winterfell from Bran, and died defending him from the Night King. He remembered how Sansa had been crying, giving Theon's body her direwolf pin, having fully redeemed himself in their eyes
Thinking of the funeral brought back other faces he'd fought beside and watched burn that day. Young Lyanna Mormont hadn't been born yet, he thought. Her cousin Jorah was in Essos already if he remembered right. His father and Jon's predecessor, Jeor, was commanding the Watch right now with Maester Aemon advising. 'Dolorous' Eddison Tollett had probably already joined the Watch by now. Qhorin Halfhand and Uncle Benjen should be out ranging beyond the Wall. Mance should be starting to gather the Free Folk, if he hasn't already. And Tormund, Val and Ygritte should be with him.
Jon really wanted to ride north and see them all. Warn them of the danger and yell for them to make an alliance. To find Gilly and save her and her family from Craster. It would not be easy, but the Others were the real enemy. But Jon also knew that men like Alliser Thorne and Rattleshirt, on both sides, would never stand for it. The images of Rattleshirt's beaten body, steaming with warm blood, and Thorne's blue face, eyes popped wide-open came to the forefront of his mind.
'I fought, I lost. Now I rest. But you, Lord Snow, you'll be fighting their battles forever.' He'd been right of course. Thorne was still right. Jon would fight their battles for what seemed like forever because they were his battles too. That's why he came back. This was his fight and if he could save a few more extra souls and win this, even if he died, Jon knew he would rest without any true regret.
Jon wasn't stupid. Even confused and sifting through Young and Old memories, he knew he wouldn't be able to save everyone.
But he could try. And when he failed, he could keep trying.
"Snow!" A voice cawed. Jon jolted out of his thoughts, looking around for the voice. Father wasn't here yet nor was anyone else here, and that didn't sound like anyone he knew. Yet...it was vaguely familiar. "Snow!"
He looked up to see a crow... or was it a raven? He looked at the black bird who stared back. That was strange, had one of them gotten loose from Maester Luwin's rookery?
Wait...
Jon sensed something. Even through the haze of mana, Jon vaguely sensed a presence. A warg. His eyes widened in realization before narrowing in suspicion. Who was watching him? The only people in Winterfell who could be wargs were him and his siblings as far as he knew. He checked while they were snowed in as wargs can sense one another if they were attuned enough. As far as he knew, wargs could only be a certain distance from their animal before their control broke. The stronger the bond, the stronger the connection. It's what made him able to warg into Ghost so easily over great distances. But even they had a limit.
So that left the possibility of his siblings tapping into their powers early. It wasn't impossible, but it was unlikely. Bran was the most likely of them, but they were all doing other things. Save for Rickon, and the boy was too young to even begin trying.
The other possibility is that a warg had come in the night or when Jon hadn't been searching, unless they were actively hiding from him.
There was also a chance that Drakhan had somehow possessed the raven, but the bird would have attacked him and broken down by now.
The final option... was the Three-Eyed Raven. Jon kept staring at the raven who merely returned it, before Jon shrugged his shoulders. Only one way to find out. Then his eyes went white as he warged into the raven.
'So what I sensed was true.' A three-eyed raven spoke above him fluttering in the air. Jon was in the form of Ghost, as he often envisioned himself whenever he met with another warg like this.
'Oh? And what did you sense?' He replied. This wasn't Bran, but his predecessor. The one whom Grim named Brynden Rivers. Jon could have sworn he'd heard the name somewhere before. He could not remember.
'That you have changed. That everything has changed.' The raven flapped its wings angrily.
'How have things changed, Brynden?' Jon asked, wondering what the raven's reaction would be. He was not disappointed as the raven stopped flapping and fell a few feet before resuming its glide to earth in front of Jon. Now staring up at him.
'You know my name?' The raven asked, still but tense, as if poised to fly away.
'I know some things.' An old memory of a woman kissed-by-fire proclaiming he knew nothing tried to enter but he crushed it down ruthlessly. Warging was tricky when memories were involved as one could end up revealing them if they were not careful.
'How?' The raven asked, coming closer.
'A vision, after I died.' Jon replied with a half-truth. He did not wish to reveal everything immediately. He didn't know if he could trust this person yet.
'A vision? I had seen you stabbed, but not the one who had done it. My sight has been... improved yet blocked. This vision...what did it show you?' The raven asked inquisitively.
'The truth.' Jon replied after a moment.
'Ah,' The raven cawed in understanding, 'Your mother and father then.'
'I may have Targaryen blood flowing through my veins, but Ned Stark is my father!' Jon snapped before wincing. Dammit! He hadn't meant for that to slip out! The raven seemed to look at him almost sympathetically.
'I can understand that it is difficult to accept. But Rhaegar is and always will be your father. And if you know that, as well as my name, the blood of the dragon must be awakening in you. Are you aware of our connection, boy?' The raven asked, fluttering back into the air.
'What connection?' Jon asked, confused. Did he have a connection with this being aside from him wanting Bran to take his place?
'Allow me to introduce myself. Forgive me for not doing so, it has been a long time since I observed my own courtesies.' The raven changed into a man with silver hair, one eye uncovered while the other was gone, clad in the garb of the Night's Watch. 'I am the Three-Eyed Raven, before that I was called Brynden Rivers, son of Aegon IV, legitimized half-brother to King Daeron II, and served as his Master of Whispers, and was later Hand to his successors until Aegon V. Later my enemies and allies called me-'
'Bloodraven!' Jon finished taking a step back in his wolven form, the phrase a thousand eyes and one practically shouting in their mental space, 'You were sent to the Wall with Maester Aemon and served as Lord-Commander until you were lost on a ranging beyond the wall!'
'The very same, nephew.' Bloodraven replied with a nod, 'Decades ago, when Aemon and I were not so old and decrepit, I had gone ranging, being called by the Three-Eyed Raven before me. But I was not the only one who heard his call. A white walker had ambushed me after I found the Red Raven's cave with a pack of wights. Thankfully, I had taken Dark Sister with me and had managed to kill the Other while holding off the remaining wights before several of the Children of the Forest helped me finish them. Shortly after that, I became the Three-Eyed Raven.'
'What is the Three-Eyed Raven exactly? Is it a position? A title? I know you're a warg, but...you feel like you're more than that.'
'Your feelings serve you well. You are not wrong in your guessing, but you are not right either. As a title, the Three-Eyed Raven is given to the world's most powerful greenseer. As a position, it is to preserve the world's true memory, especially from those who would misconstrue it or those who would rather it be forgotten entirely. However, as a person...it is passed down through warging, not words. Do you know what that means?' Bloodraven spoke, looking at Jon curiously. Jon knew what he was saying. It happened to all of those who died while warged.
'It means there are pieces of your predecessors living within you. A part of you now.' Jon stated. Bloodraven nodded.
'Very true. A small piece of them is passed down along with the knowledge and experience. Not enough to influence, but enough to change the next one. To help them understand. It is more binding than becoming a king or a lord. You can always walk away from that if you have the courage, but once you become the Three-Eyed Raven, there is no going back. You can still remain yourself, but there is more now. A thousand little drops of rain, collecting in a well, and each drop is a person like me. And I think you have an idea of what that's like, if your vision has changed you this much.'
'You could say that. But why should I trust you?' The white wolf stomped a paw.
'Because all I've ever tried to do is what I think is right. I've spent the last decades living in a cave, guarding the memory of this world while the most evil of beings attempts to murder me. Before that, I served as Hand to Aenys and Maekar, and was loyal to House Targaryen throughout the Blackfyre Rebellions.' There was no anger in his voice, but there was a hardness that Jon could hear.
'That is until Aegon the Unlikely sent you to the Wall.' Jon riposted.
'I killed Aenys Blackfyre because I had no wish to see a fourth rebellion! Most of what I had done as Hand had ensured Egg's rule would be a smooth one. And I had no wish to be king. I loved Daeron as a brother, but the rest... You are blessed to have as many brothers that love you and you to love back. Daeron was the only one who treated me as a brother. And I still care about the country our family built. That is why I sacrificed my honor so readily. Because I loved my country more than most of my own family.' Bloodraven had a spark of anger in his eyes now as he explained himself.
'Egg? Do you mean Aegon V? I imagine you couldn't have liked him much after he sent you away.' Jon prompted trying not to allow the understanding to flow through the connection. He knew all too well what it was like to choose something over family. But Jon needed to see how Bloodraven would react. In anger, people sometimes revealed their true intentions and Jon honestly wasn't sure if he could trust him.
'I...was angry and bitter for a time. Resentful even, but I eventually came to accept it. The next generation cannot thrive with the old choking it, as my father did to my siblings and I. It is he I hold responsible for the Rebellions that nearly destroyed us. He ultimately pitted us against each other, but we continued with it after his death. Instead of working together to bring peace and stability as we should have, we ripped Westeros asunder.' Bloodraven said, all anger gone now and looking...old. So very old.
Jon didn't respond as he studied the old man now. He looked less powerful and wizened. He looked his age. Perhaps, Jon had seen enough, maybe it was time to give back just a little.
'The vision...you still wish to hear it?' He asked, causing Bloodraven to look at him, before the old man nodded. And so Jon told him. Not everything. Not Grim or the fact that his soul was different, but enough.
'So another horror from the Long Night has risen?' Bloodraven asked neutrally. Jon merely nodded.
'Go check if you do not believe me. The far east, Yi Ti.' Blood raven disappeared, and Jon was left now in full control of the raven.
He was standing on one of the branches of Heart Tree watching himself still standing with white eyes. Wow, was he really that short at this age? He knew he wasn't the tallest growing up or even when he was full grown, but come on! Then he was pulled back.
And was treated to the sight of a disturbed looking Bloodraven.
'I have...never seen such evil before. The Night King is motivated mostly by hatred, but this...Drakhan is purely motivated by malice.' Bloodraven actually seemed to shiver. Jon could just feel how much Drakhan's existence bothered the old man through their connection.
'What's your measure of him? As someone who's lived so long as you.' Jon asked.
'I've seen people similar to him before throughout history. People who feel they own this world. But all of them have craved for more power, more resources, or relief or could be reasoned with to some extent, yet he is different from them. It's as if none of that matters to him. It's as if there is not an ounce of empathy in him. As if people are nothing more than toys. Their screams as their bones break is nothing more than music to his ears, their blood splatters are works of art to him. He is arguably the biggest monster I've ever seen, including the Night King.' Jon didn't reply but merely nodded. He'd heard from Ser Rodrik and Jory about what Drakhan did when they caught up to him. The fact that he knowingly eats souls and drags them into eternal torment already made him a monster to Jon, but he was beginning to realize how much of one he already was before his demonization.
'But after he killed himself and Azor Ahai, I cannot see him. Just like I couldn't see the one who stabbed you.' Jon nodded as Bloodraven continued, 'Shortly after that, I noticed three massive storms brew in the Neck. The first struck the North before moving to Skagos and out while the other two tore through the South all the way to Dorne. During those, I couldn't see anything. When I went to see where they began, I had the same problem. Now I can see things with much more clarity, but I still can't see where they came from. What do you know of it?'
'I know that Drakhan had gathered several magical objects from each of the Great Houses.' Jon then proceeded to tell Bloodraven about the Red Amber Tear. Bloodraven, who had been listening carefully, had a shocked look.
'He used all of them?!'
'I think so, why? Is that bad?'
'It depends on your definition of bad. They were carrying certain magics, each unique to their kingdom and the ruling House, however they were meant to be used seperately. The Blood Amber Tear of the North represented pure magic. Unspoiled by any elemental magic unlike the others: the Dragon's Fang of the Crownlands, the Lion's Claw of the West, the Stormglass of the Stormlands, or Nymeria's Ring from Dorne! And they were not all objects. The Riverlands' was the Source of the Trident, a location of pure magical power. The Iron Islands' contribution was the Seal of the Drowned God which was not so much imbued with magic as it channeled and directed it. Add the final one, the Name of the True Lord of Highgarden as the catalyst to invoke the magic and...'
'And instead of them being activated in each kingdom and dispersing magic without too much destruction, they instead dispersed all of it into three destructive storms.' Jon finished following Bloodraven's tangent. The greenseer nodded.
'Yes, now there are going to be people everywhere awakening to magic. Wargs will most likely come first, then seers, then other practitioners. Soon enough we'll have pyromancers and the like, warlocks, and red priests everywhere.'
'I take it you don't like the followers of R'hllor?' Jon questioned.
'Given the fact you know their god's name, I suppose you've seen them?' Jon nodded, 'Then you know why I do not like them. I can see blood magic as a necessity, but even I would draw the line at using it for exalting an absent god. Not to mention the fact that they would burn every godswood and heart tree they'd find.'
'So you wouldn't be able to watch people?' Jon prompted, smirking if he could.
'Not just that,' Bloodraven acknowledged with a nod, 'heart trees and weirwoods naturally draw-in impure magical energy and purify it back into pure magical energy and create natural eddies of it. There's a reason the Three-Eyed Raven stays near a heart tree. Our abilities are at their strongest near it.' That would explain why Bran hardly ever went away from it. Jon had often wondered why Bran had done so, but merely thought it was a means of being closer to the Old Gods.
"Jon." Jon turned to look behind him to see no one.
'It would appear that Eddard Stark is coming.' Bloodraven said, making Jon flinch. 'You are confronting him?'
'Yes. I've been putting it off for far too long. I don't suppose you could make yourself scarce and not watch? I'd appreciate it if you didn't.' Jon asked as he braced himself, ready to slip out.
'Very well. Until we meet again, Jon.' And just like that the connection was cut on both sides.
Jon was standing on his own two feet again, as the raven he'd been inhabiting had flown off cawing like mad. He attempted to sense for Bloodraven, but found no trace, only that of his siblings who were a good distance away.
"Jon." He turned to his father, the Lord of Winterfell, striding toward him. From a distance, he could see Arya and Bran, trying to spy on them from the gate, the former telling the latter to shush. Both were thankfully out of earshot. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, father." Jon replied, bringing his attention back to the Lord of Winterfell before turning to stare at the Heart Tree, "Just thinking about things."
"Anything in particular, that you might have called me out for?" Ned asked after a moment of silence. Jon was struggling to get it out, heart hammering and his stomach tied in knots around a stone.
"My place in this world." Jon informed, inwardly snapping at himself to get it out. To quit beating around the bush.
"And what place do you think that is?" His father asked, tone kind and curious. Come on, just say it!
"I do not know, but it is not here." He replied woodenly, calling himself a coward, feeling like he was going to be sick.
"What? Of course your place is here! You may not have my name, but you have my blood. You are a Stark, and Winterfell will always be home to the Starks." His father said while other words flashed in his mind. 'When next we see each other, we'll talk about your mother.'
They never got to do that. His father died trying to save a king who preferred to shrug the responsibility on other men lesser than the one who truly stood with him.
"I am not a Stark." His voice cracked. He could blame it on puberty and not the tornado of emotions that was whirling around through him if only there weren't tears starting to fall down cheeks.
"Jon," A large gloved hand came on his trembling shoulder, "What's wrong? Has someone said something to you?"
Jon did not say anything immediately. Merely looked down towards the black pool at their feet. Before Lord Stark could say something else, Jon spoke, "I died, father." Silence pervaded the air, so much that it was deafening, "I felt myself leave my body, and while that happened...I saw things."
"What? What did you see?" Father asked, eyes full of concern. With a few deep breaths, Jon said the words that would utterly change their world forever.
"Things of the past, and maybe the future. I know who my mother is," His father's eyes widened, with slight fear in them and he looked ready to say it was nothing but a dream, but Jon cut him off, "And I know she's buried in the crypts. I know the truth."
Jon honestly could not remember a time when he made his father scared speechless. But there it was, all over his pale face trying to come up with words.
"H-How?" His father finally croaked out in a whisper. Jon turned away from where Arya and Bran were as he held a palm in front of his chest, focusing. He focused on more positive things, love, joy, happiness, the earnest wish to do good that had driven him all his life. Creation Magic responded to such things as he had found out when practicing within the Sanctuary at night. He wasn't great at it, but it was enough. A spark of light came to be in the palm of his hand.
Ned Stark looked down at the pale blue light, floating in Jon's hand.
"You have..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. The light died out as Jon's hand dropped to his side.
"Magic." Jon finished. The two stood there in silence.
"Jon, I-" but Jon cut him off.
"I understand why. I'm hurt you never told me, I feel betrayed that you didn't trust me with it. But I understand. If it ever got out, it wouldn't just be our heads at risk." The glance back at the castle was unneeded as they both knew what, or more precisely who, was at stake.
"I doubt Robert-"
"We both know, that's not true." Jon interrupted. He'd been doing that more lately. Must be because of Old Jon getting his way a lot, "You wouldn't tell him even if I'd join the Night's Watch and he was on his deathbed."
Ned promptly shut his mouth with an audible click, before agreeing, "You're probably right."
"That's not all I saw either." And Jon proceeded to tell his father of the coming Long Night and the fall of their family, the general idea of it anyway. No sense in accusing the current queen of adultery and incest without evidence. Jon knew what he would do in his father's situation: Give Cersei a chance to escape and she'll try to turn it into an advantage. Her decision to withhold during the Long Night was an example of this. It spoke of cunning, but not wisdom. And then Jon spoke of Drakhan
"Drakhan?" Ned asked, with mounting horror after hearing of what Jon had seen.
"He's...a very powerful, very very old warlock. His body was destroyed a long time ago and ever since he's been looking for a new one, but all the ones he's tried can't last long. He had possessed Duncan Snow and was using him like a set of boots." Ned nodded his head, the comparison bringing back the conversation he had with Rodrik and Jory. "The storm we had was due to him too. Have you had any words of storms that have hit the South?"
"There...has...been word from Jon Arryn, that a massive storm struck King's Landing, as well as Gulltown, and Oldtown. But there hasn't been much word from the Riverlands or any other western territories." Both men secretly doubted that either Tywin Lannister or Balon Greyjoy would show weakness let alone acknowledge it despite the havoc a storm could wreak across the coast.
"That was caused by him gathering several old artifacts from each House."
"For what purpose?"
"To bring back magic. He can't find a body strong enough to hold him, so he's resorted to making one." Ned walked away and began pacing. It was too much. A second Long Night? A warlock attempting to create a strong enough body to inhabit, if what happened to Duncan Snow was any indication. Magic was returning to Westeros? What next? Dragons?!
"If I hadn't seen you make that light, not to mention the fact that you know the truth, I wouldn't have believed you as I do now." Ned finally stated, having stopped pacing.
"You'd probably think me mad." Ned flinched, mumbling an apology, "Don't be sorry. I..." Accept it, he remembered Grim saying, "We... Targaryens are not the most stable bunch according to history. Either way, I cannot stay here. Not while he's roaming Westeros." That was a lie. According to the information Grim left in his head, the amount of mana that had exuded from the ritual had not only destroyed the bodies Drakhan had been inhabiting, but it had injured him. Scattered him, but since a demon cannot die nor become one with the Ether, he will reform in time. It was not enough to destroy him, unfortunately, but enough to buy them some time. Time enough for Jon's powers to grow. But to do that he needed to gain experience, which couldn't be done without completing quests or killing things. He could train here, but it wouldn't allow his abilities to grow as fast.
"What?! No! No way am I letting you out with that thing on the loose!" His father immediately denied.
"My powers are going to grow, father. He's going to come to me one way or another. The difference is if I'm here, he'll murder everyone else on his way out of the castle while wearing me." Ned flinched at the image of a pale Jon, black veined with black eyes, slaughtering everyone he grew up with, a smile on his face.
"You're just a boy." Ned defended weakly. He knew that what Jon said may very well be true, but he couldn't just let him go.
"Father... I didn't just see things. I experienced them. I lived, I fought and killed, I'd gotten married and had a family and then I died. I may look like a boy, but I do not feel like one anymore. I feel old. Like my bones are tired and feel like stone." Jon explained making Ned's eyes widened as the Jon before him seemed to sag and look older than he had any right to be now. He knew that feeling all too well. It's a feeling that comes when you really begin to feel all the years you've been alive. All the things you've done and carried with you suddenly having started to pile on top of your shoulders. But he couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.
"Your vision...showed you married?" Jon nodded, "What was she like?" And then Jon seemed to come alive and Ned knew he wasn't lying.
"She was beautiful, wild and fierce with hair the color of honey and blue eyes. Val wasn't a wallflower either. She was smart, brave, knew how to hunt and wouldn't hesitate to tell me off." They both chuckled, Jon in fondness and Ned in surprise.
"She sounds like a keeper. Val, eh? Think you'll meet her this time?" Jon's smile vanished.
"Probably, but I doubt it'll go the same way this time. And stop trying to change the subject. I've done it too many times to be fooled by it." Jon said with some irritation.
"If you really want to leave, I cannot stop you, but... how long will it take for your powers to grow?" Ned asked, hoping to find a way to keep Jon in Winterfell. He might seem experienced, but he had no wish to send his son out into the cruel and unforgiving world unless he had to.
"I'm unsure," Jon shrugged, "I can feel things I couldn't when I woke up. It's like the air is...tense. Filled with something. When I realized I could do all of that, it had only been a couple of days ago."
"Hmmm." Ned paced, still staring at Jon, "Prove it to me."
"Prove what exactly?" Jon asked with a raised brow, confused.
"Prove to me that you are a man. Tell me what it means to be a man. And then I'll think about it." Ned challenged making Jon's other eyebrow rise to join its twin.
"You want me to tell you what it means to be a man? To prove to you that I know how ugly and cruel the shite world outside these walls really is?" Ned winced at Jon's harsh language, but nodded, "Very well, I could tell you that being a man is about having fucked a girl, had a child, raised them and provided for them as well as himself. I've done all of that, but I've no real evidence."
"You better not at your age." Ned threatened, causing Jon to snort.
"I could say that being a man is about being able to kill another man, but we both know that isn't what makes a man. So, I suppose, that the true measure of a man is when he's able to make his own choices. Not the kind like hunting or what he's going to do for his day. But making hard choices that are not just going to affect him, but the people around him. Decisions that could get people hurt or even killed. Being able to take responsibility for those choices and living with consequences, the kind of choices that will stay with him for all his days, and define him. Being able to face up to the choices you make, that's what being a man is." Jon had looked straight into his father's eyes as he said this, and Ned knew that Jon wasn't a boy anymore. He might not have had any hair growing on his face, and as far as he'd known, Jon had not killed anyone, yet. But before him was his son as a man. Ned put his hands on Jon's shoulders, with a proud smile on his face.
"That's a start. After your fifteenth nameday, you'll be free to go."
"Fourteenth." Jon immediately shook his head making Ned's eyes go wide.
"That's less than six moons away! Are you in such a rush-"
"Yes." Jon's candid resolve filled that single word which brought Ned up short.
"Are we really short on time?" The Lord of Winterfell asked with some trepidation.
"No, but I'd rather grow as strong as I can to stop him before he finds out about me."
"You think you can kill him?" Ned asked in surprise.
"Yes. He thinks I'm dead, he won't see me coming."
"What if he does?"
"Then we'll have to hope I'm powerful enough to resist him. Either way, he and I are going to meet again."
Ned was frustrated to say the least. Jon's words made sense, but the way he spoke them. It was as if Ned was dealing with another lord and not his son. There was confidence, but no arrogance. He was resolute and uncompromising.
"Fourteen then." He was about to walk away when Jon spoke up.
"I'll need money," Ned was about to say something when Jon added, "and no charity. I want to pay for my own things!" Gods! Was this what an independent son was like? Ned did not know if he should be proud or frustrated.
"I'll think on it." He said before continuing to go about his duties.
Jon sighed in relief as a translucent pane of glass showed up in front of him.
Quest Completed!
Leaving the Den: Convince your father that you need to leave and grow stronger. You are now set to leave Winterfell in six months.
-Main Objective: Convince your father to let you go on a journey. [Success: 5000XP]
-Bonus Objective: Convince your father to let you go on your next nameday. [Success: 5000XP]
-Bonus Objective: Convince your father to allow you to earn your resources instead of him just giving them to you. [Success: Unlocked Northern Missions and 5000XP]
Well at least now he was halfway to leveling up. With each level up, Jon needed a thousand times the level's number in experience, in this case 31,000 experience points. That was when he noticed Arya and Bran running up to him.
"What were you and father talking about?" Arya blurted, grabbing his hand, and swinging almost lazily. It was a major difference to the last time he'd been in the godswood with them. That time he had confessed his secret to Arya and Sansa. He sighed, remembering Sansa broke the promise he'd extracted from them.
"My future." Jon replied as Bran went behind him and tried to climb up his back. His little brother's arms snaked around his neck making him wheeze, "Too tight, Bran!"
"Sorry!" Bran apologized with his arms loosening, but not letting go. Great, Jon remembered when Bran did this at this age. He climbed on anything and anyone who would let him.
"What about your future?" Arya asked as they began moving towards the gate. Jon hesitated, not wanting to deal with this, but knowing he would have to.
"I'm leaving Winterfell." Arya stopped, making Jon do the same while he felt Bran tense. "By my fourteenth nameday." He finished slowly.
"B-B-But you can't! That's only-" Bran was mumbling, counting his figures from what Jon could see.
"Fives moons away!" Arya nearly wailed.
"Six moons," He corrected gently. Arya looked miserable as if the extra month didn't matter. And it wouldn't. To children, any time away was too long, his experience as a parent told him that.
"Is father sending you away? Or is it my mother?" Arya questioned, appearing caught between anger and sadness. Jon had heard of her accusation of Lady Stark, and while he would not have thought of it, Jon would not be surprised if there was some truth to it.
"No, Arya. I'm leaving of my own accord." Jon started walking again with Arya trying to match him. Bran tightened his hold, but thankfully wasn't choking him.
"That's stupid! Your place is here!" Arya shouted, bringing the attention of the smallfolk who milled about onto them. Jon did his best to ignore them as he trudged over to the training yard. He needed to practice his Marksmanship skill and get the Dexterity Stance unlocked.
"It is, but I cannot stay here." He agreed evenly, not raising his voice. He could scare them with a raised voice, even as a teenager now. But shouting wouldn't help the situation.
"Why?" Bran asked, still latched onto his back.
"Because there are things I need to do that I can't do here."
"Why?" Bran asked again. Oh no, he recognized where this was going.
"Because they are happening outside of Winterfell."
"Why?" Jon finally stopped, sighing in frustration.
"Because Bran...I need to be stronger. Because I almost died. I couldn't fight back even a little, and I don't want that to happen ever again. And I can't grow strong here, safe and protected. Don't ask me any more questions." Jon said, heading Bran off of several of his questions. That was when Bran let go and ran off. Jon was sure the boy was crying with the way he was rubbing his eyes.
"Why can't you just stay here?" Arya had stayed, her grey eyes looking ready to burst with tears.
"Arya..." Jon began, but shook his head, deciding not to try and explain himself, "I'm leaving." Her eyes widened as he spoke with the authority of their father, "This is my decision, no one is making me do this. I know you're sad, but this is how it is going to be." He remembered another little wolf pup who hated it when he left home, and he softened a tad, "We still have some time yet. Want to spend it practicing your archery?" She wiped her eyes and nodded, giving him a hug which he returned, "Good girl."
The two made it to the archer's range. There was no one there and Jon grabbed a couple of bows, a barrel full of arrows, and set up their targets. He gave Arya the bale of straw with the target painted on the cloth over it while he took the straw man.
"Why do you have the strawman?" Arya asked, never having liked the idea of having something different from her brothers.
"Have you been shooting a bow and arrow behind our backs?" Jon asked as he drew an arrow and nocked it.
"No." Jon didn't need to turn to know she shook her head. He aimed for the head of his target.
"Then you need to start with the bale. After you can hit the target dead center, you can move on to the strawman." He fired the arrow and scored the dummy at the side of the neck. The two stood there, firing arrows in silence, allowing Jon to think more.
He needed to get stronger outside as he had found out that the only way to raise his skills in Winterfell was through training. He had trained nearly all day yesterday with different swords, and only managed to raise both his One-handed and Two-handed Sub-Skills up by five points each. The reason for this was attempting to figure out how to use his stance abilities in a coherent manner. While he could have used the training room in the Sanctuary, he thought it best to raise his skills too. It had mostly been the Intensity and Assassination abilities that were most useful with a longsword while the Domination style did not work with it. He tried a broadsword which was perfect for Domination, but none of the others worked. He eventually went to what he knew most of his life, the bastard sword.
It was the best of both, and all of the abilities he had worked, save for the Frenzy stance. However, there was some slight... difficulty in jumping between style abilities. He required speed for the Intensity Style, and while he did have that, it wasn't the same as it would have been with Longclaw. His movements were slow, not just because of the sword, but his body too! Jon missed his old valyrian steel blade. It was lighter, stronger and would have been absolutely perfect for him!
And if he were being honest with himself at least, a small part of himself did not like being the fourth highest leveled person in Winterfell. Jon had lived to be six and eighty, a fine age to live to as anyone would say, but it was humbling to the point of bitterness to see his lifetime of experience lose to Jory who had died all too soon and was only a few levels above himself. Ahead of Jory was father who was in the lower fifties with Ser Rodrik beating him by a few levels in the mid fifties.
It wasn't as if Jon did not understand. He may have experienced war, but he never really lived through it as they did. Jon never waged war like his father did, fighting battle after battle. He hadn't done that much in King's Landing save for holding his men together and fighting a few Lannisters before calling the retreat before Dany burned them. If he remembered right, he experienced the Raid on Craster's Keep, the Battle of Castle Black, the Massacre at Hardhome, the Battle of the Bastards, the Wight Hunt, the Battle of Winterfell, and the Battle of King's Landing along with the battle against Drakhan's warged. With minor skirmishes in between. While certainly nothing to scoff at, it wasn't fighting in a campaign of near constant battles and sieges. That was why Jory was a higher level than he was, and since father had also endured the Greyjoy Rebellion in addition to Robert's Rebellion, he was higher than both of them. And since Ser Rodrik had been a knight even before father was fostered in the Vale, and stood with him through both wars, it made sense he was a higher level even at his age.
Jon had known he wasn't like the legends he grew up with, no matter who praised his skill. He knew he was amongst the best because he was all that remained, but he prefered to think he'd been close.
"Jon!" Arya called happily. Jon turned to look at her after he fired his...he hadn't been counting. She pointed to her target and he followed her line of sight. The bale was full of arrows, with a few on the ground, there were at least a dozen, and one was in the red circle on the right edge of it.
"Good job, Arya!" Jon congratulated with sincerity, "Now you have to hit it right in the middle."
"You said to hit it in the center then I'd move on to the strawman!" She retorted in what looked like betrayal, eyes wide.
"I said hit it dead center. You're close now, don't give up! Now pick your arrows out of the bale before firing. You don't want them blocking your shot." She stomped before doing as she was told, mumbling and grumbling of how if she shot a man with this many arrows he'd die anyway. Jon shook his head fondly. His sister and her namesake were exactly alike!
"Aye, true, he'd die. But before he'd fall to your arrows he'd reach you and cut you down." Jon's voice was blunt, but not cold, nor was it comforting. Arya looked at him wide-eyed, "Or maybe his friends would reach you as he slowed down."
"Y-You really think-" She started, startled at Jon's blunt reply to her whinging.
"Jon!" Jon turned to see his father, Lady Stark who was carrying a toddler Rickon, and Sansa coming up on the balcony that overlooked the yard. His father seemed somewhat amused, but annoyed. Lady Stark looked very disapproving while Sansa looked almost aghast. Rickon just looked at everything else. Jon took a quick glance to Arya to see she had a horrified face. Then from the corner of his eye he saw Bran pulling Robb with Theon following behind.
'Great, the whole family was here.' He thought to himself sardonically.
"You let a little girl practise with a bow and arrow?" Lady Stark nearly hissed. Jon was almost sure she'd be glaring murder at him if everyone else wasn't around.
"Cat-" Father tried to soothe her.
"No, Ned, she's a lady of Great House! She-"
"And?" There was dead silence in the yard. It wasn't Lord Stark's voice that interrupted her, or any of her children's or even Theon's. It was Jon's voice. She turned to glare at him, but Jon didn't even flinch. All of the children save Rickon looked aghast now, while Ned was looking at Jon with wide eyes. Jon merely stared back at her, eyes resolute with unshakable confidence. She wasn't dealing with the Bastard of Winterfell anymore. She was dealing with the man who fought and killed things that haunted her nightmares.
Lord Snow.
"'And?' It's improper-"
"Improper?!" Jon's voiced raised before chuckling a bit. It was starting to scare everyone around as it wasn't his usual chuckle. It was cold, and mocking, "Propriety. Forgive my rudeness Lady Stark, but answer me this...if I were to run Arya through with a blade, down to the very hilt, and pull it out, would she bleed and die?"
"Jon!" Ned almost growled, Jon made a glance at his father, before looking back at the fear-stricken gaze of Lady Catelyn Stark, her worried blue eyes jumping between Jon and Arya as if he would do the deed right this second.
"She would die, wouldn't she? Just like any man." He continued on, ignoring the warning look from his father, "You know... I never doubted my safety here at Winterfell." All of their eyes were focused on him now, in shock, "Even with you here wishing me gone, I never felt in danger from you. To me you've gone above what it means to be the wife of a lord. I'd even go so far as to call you a saint since I'm sure many others would have had me smothered in the crib as soon as they had the chance."
"Jon!" Now his father was growling, even as Lady Stark flinched, clutching Rickon close.
"But that ended a while back. When an evil man came into my home and almost murdered me in broad daylight. I bet you were relieved when you heard it was me who got stabbed."
"Stop it." Arya whispered tugging on Jon's shirt firmly after moving slowly to him. This side of Jon was scaring her.
"There's no shame in it really, being relieved it wasn't your children. But what if it wasn't? What if it wasn't even Robb, but one of the younger ones. I think we both know what evil men can do to little children."
"JON!" This time it was both father and Robb who shouted, but Jon merely winced. He could feel Arya shaking, and he didn't bother to look at Bran.
"If I have to choose between your children's welfare and your 'propriety.' I'll pick their welfare every time. But don't worry, you won't have to deal with me for much longer. I'm sure father's told you about my plans." Jon finished before going back to training his marksmanship, nudging Arya to the side.
"Plans?" He heard Lady Stark vaguely whisper out.
"Jon is...leaving...on his next nameday." There were a few strangled gasps from all over as it was made official now. "And as for you...look at me!" Jon turned after firing another arrow staring at his father's baleful gaze, "I thought I raised you better."
"You raised me to tell the truth. And I've told it."
"And what truth is that?"
"That the world doesn't care. That it doesn't truly need an excuse to hurt someone." Jon stated with some heat in his voice, "That propriety," He looked at Lady Stark who flinched back before looking back at his father, "And a name are nothing more than masks we use to hide just how ugly things really are. And how we hide behind them so we don't have to accept it. Lady Stark will never accept Arya as anything more than a Lady, a southern wallflower at that. Sansa might be able to do it. To just stand there and look pretty while the men take care of everything. Not an original thought in her head." Sansa gasped and looked close to tears making Jon's heart ache, "But that's not Arya. That'll never be Arya and I think you know that too, but you don't want to accept it because of the last Stark woman who was like that."
The silence that reigned in the yard was deafening. No one could say anything as they looked back and forth to the Lord of Winterfell and his supposed bastard. Jon stared into his father's eyes, not an ounce of remorse for his words, while his father stared back in anger and shock, not knowing what to do or say. Eventually...
"Your room, no supper, now." Was all Ned Stark could say, voice cold. Jon merely nodded and walked over to the rack to place his bow on it before trudging off. He did not regret what he said. He knew the truth and he understood wanting to protect one's child. But with what was coming, they couldn't afford it.
The rest of the day had been for lack of a better term, a disaster. There had been a few arguments over Jon's words. While the consensus was that Jon had spoken impertinently, bordering on disrespectful, there was some grain of truth to them.
Catelyn had complained about it. She said Jon had no right talking to her like that, and that Arya should stay away from him and any weapons. Ned had agreed with her on the former, but he hesitated to do so on the latter. For all that Jon's bluntness had angered him, he couldn't cast aside some of the things he said. The passage from the Weirbook had stayed with him about the blood running thin. While he loved all of his children dearly, he couldn't help but notice things about how Catelyn was raising them. There was no doubt that Arya had the most northern blood running through her veins. And Jon had been right about him not wishing Lyanna's fate on his daughter having seen his sister in her place several times.
When he looked at his other children though...he worried. It was not as if he doubted any of them were his. He knew they were. He'd seen the Flint side of his family coming through in Robb and especially Bran. But Sansa... a southern wallflower Jon had called her. Sansa had taken after her lady mother more than any of their children. And he never had taken an interest in what exactly his daughters were studying. All he knew was that they spent their time being tutored by Septa Mordane, a woman he admittedly hardly ever talked to. Sansa thrived with the traditional feminine activities, but did she know how to defend herself? Ned never wanted to think about it, but...he honestly agreed that maybe the girls should learn to defend themselves.
When Ned had said this, Catelyn looked at him as if he had grown a second head, and from there it spiraled into a full blown argument with Ned saying he did not take Jon's side, that he would reprimand him over it later, but it was something Ned was concerned over. Catelyn took the side of Jon being wrong and that Sansa and Arya did not need to defend themselves as they had their brothers and later husbands and fighting men to do that for them. Ned countered with what would happen when all of them died or were slipped through as what happened to Jon. Never ever thought what happened to Jon would happen in the walls of their home let alone their godswood, and the Sept could not be excluded either!
Their argument would last well into the night, going over not only the idea of their girls' self-defense training, but the idea of their betrothals which Catelyn originally wanted with Houses in the South for all of their children, and Ned's idea of fostering them in other places in the North or Vale.
While this was going on, down the hall, Arya and Sansa had a similar argument that was just as intense with Robb and Bran weighing in. Sansa, who had been hurt by Jon's words, had taken her mother's side and told Arya she should not have been playing with the weapons. Arya immediately defended herself that father and Jon were not against it. Sansa shot back that they weren't ladies and that they don't know what ladies should do. Arya returned that she wasn't a lady. Robb attempted to mediate between the two but was ultimately pushed onto Arya's, and therefore Jon's, side when he said that he had no problem with Arya learning how to fight for herself and that Sansa did have a tendency to repeat everything their mother said and did. Bran meanwhile had no idea what to do as while he didn't mind Arya fighting, he did mind her doing it before him. And he was jealous of her hitting the red part of the target too!
Jon Snow
Level: 30
Attributes:
Strength: 20
Perception: 25
Endurance: 20
Charisma: 30
Intelligence: 40
Agility: 20
Luck: 50
Willpower: 35
Core Skills: Your most basic skills. Adding points to them increases your mastery over the subject. Once they are filled to 100, they will be completed and unlock more specialized branches called Sub-Skills.
Athletics: 20
Armor: 45
Blocking: 30
Economics: 50
Marksmanship: 20
Magic: 30
Medicine: 20
Melee: 100
Sneak: 30
Speech: 60
Unarmed: 35
Warcraft: 60
Sub-Skills: Skills that provide bonuses to specific talents and how you use them. Once completed, another Sub-Skill may be unlocked depending on the precedent skill.
Light Armor: 0
One-handed: [55]
Two-handed: [55]
Basic Stances: Your styles of fighting. Each one is for fighting brutally or smartly. Up close or distant. Offensive or defensive. One weapon or two. Each one is unlocked when the corresponding Perk is unlocked. Each Stance Ability cost one Stance Point. You get two Stance Points per level until Level 27, then it is down to one per level.
Assassination: 5/14
Defense: 4/14
Dexterity: LOCKED
Domination: 14/14
Frenzy: 1/14
Intensity: 14/14
Specialized Stances: Advanced stances that are unlocked when you have enough Stance Points in the Basic Stance. Stance Points are shared between Basic and Specialized Stances, but advanced abilities cost twice as many points.
Archer: LOCKED
Berserker: LOCKED
Knight: LOCKED
Warrior: 7/7
Killer: LOCKED
Water Dancer: 3/7
Perks: Abilities that are unlocked whenever certain skills reach a specific amount. You get one Perk Point per level.
Armsman
Assassination Stance
Bladesman
Bone Crusher
Creation Magic
Coercion
Defense Stance
Devastating Strike
Domination Stance
Dragon Dreams
Environmental Strategy
Expert Combat Training
Fighting Champion
Frenzy Stance
Great Critical Charge
Herblore
Iron Fist
Intensity Stance
Light Armor
Limb-splitting Hack and Slash
Magical Synthesis
Martial Strategy
Paralyzing Strike
Political Maneuvering
Warg
Stealth
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And kudos to my beta, Jonsnowisawsome, and his boy, Jake, for looking over this!