Lord Rickard Stark. Heir to Winterfell and future Lord Paramount of the North and my future lord. He was younger then me. Only by a small margin mind you and nowhere near the difference between Ymir and myself.
"Now then Jeor. How goes thing on Bear Island?" Lord Stark asked, drawing my attention back to the here and now. We sat in the young lords' solar at a small table by the fire all of us sitting at different sides. Ymir was put with his back to the fire where he sat calmly eating. Looking at the young Stark I can't help but study him. He wore all greys and blacks. A thick winter jerkin keeping the cold out. His grey eyes staring with the intensity of a wolf circling its prey. His hair was done better than most northern lords combed hair falling to his shoulders lacked any grease or knots and the stubbly beginnings of a beard followed his chin.
"The Isle is fair my lord, the only break to the normal silence is our guest here." I say motioning to Ymir. The bottom of a mug of ale greeting our combined gaze.
"I see." the Young Wolf says. "Tell me Sir Ymir, what brings you to Winterfell?" The first response was the old man placing the mug back onto the table. He wiped his mouth and then spoke.
"I need to speak with your Maester. Need to look into someone called Azor Ahai. Might also go by the prince that was promised the information that I have is sparse and not all that reliable."
"I'm sure that Walys will be more than willing to help you. It's always been a passion of his to read old stories and legends. I can't say that I know anything about this Prince that was Promised however. But now I must ask why?"
Ymir stopped eating for the first time. He looked at Lord Stark and said nothing for a time.
"I don't think you'd believe me if I told you the full story. Just know that I have been tasked with finding this boy and preparing him for some great deed."
"By who?" Lord Stark Replied the authority in his voice palpable, making me sit up straighter than before.
"Someone I could not say no to."
"Wait." I find myself saying the both of them turning to me. "You said you were the "Shield Thane of Skyrim ``, you had authority in every hold. How was there anyone who could realistically command you to do something?" Lord Stark nods likely pleased that I knew where my greater loyalties lay. Ymir shuffled in his seat for a moment.
"Shor," he said plainly.
"Shor?" Lord Stark asks. "Just Shor. No last name? No title, nothing?" Ymir smiled at him.
"If you must ask who he is then you wont believe me to begin with. Hence why I didn't tell you." Lord Stark's eyes grew dark and leaned forward.
"Try me." Ymir looked at him for a time.
"Shor is the Chief of the Nordic pantheon of Skyrim. He is known by many names. Shezzar, Sheor, and Lorkahn. He is a dead god who was slain by Akatosh or Auri-El, for him tricking the many Aedra into creating the world." I look between Ymir and Lord Stark once or twice before laughing. Lord Stark and Ymir did not.
"A dead god sent you to another land in order to find a lad who may or not be real?" Lord Stark asked our foreign guest.
"No. The warrior hero of all mankind responsible for the creation of the mortal world asked me to." was Ymir's response. Once more silence fell over the room.
"You're right I don't believe you. But I find myself intrigued by you all the same. There are things about you that are clearly foreign and cannot be explained by normal means. Your armor is made of bones and a strange black metal I've never seen before. Your sword is made of ice for fucks sake." Lord Stark says before taking a large swig of ale. "I'm fascinated by your claims. And even if your not telling the full truth it is still imperative for me to make sure that the North has a good first impression in the eyes of a new foreign power." Ymir smiled and bowed his head.
"And I need to keep such a thing in mind as well. Although, it's very unlikely that you'll be seeing more of my people any time soon. But if you have any questions please, feel free to ask."
The next hour or so was mostly Lord Stark and Ymir discussing the greater political scale of Westeros and Ymir telling some things about his youth.
Ymir was born out of wedlock or at the very least his father abandoned him shortly after birth and his mother died in the cold of a city named Bruma. He was taken in by a local Sept that he called the Great Chapel of Talos. He spent his early life running errands and doing menial tasks for the Septons who lived there. Although he simply called them the Brothers, supposedly one of them was very fond of Khajiit cheese. Whatever a Khajiit was. But when he was fourteen a war broke out between The Empire of man and The Aldmeri Dominion. Being a large lad with a defiant desire to not be a priest he ran away. Lying on his conscription papers he joined the Imperial Legion. More specifically he join the Bulls of Morihaus a siege breaking unit of men who were larger than normal or as Ymir put it Big Boys. Which based on his description alone could realistically give Westeros a proper thrashing. A citizen army made up primarily of volunteers that make up a professional army from the simple citizen legionary to the Noble Equestrians. Generals and Admirals who spend their entire lives studying and perfecting the art of warfare. They'd break through levies like they were a stone though wet parchment. But if the Legion wasn't bad enough they lost the war the Aldmeri Dominion's navy and mages of all things were just too much for the hastily assembled Imperial Legions. and the White-Gold Concordat was signed outlawing the worship of Talos who was seen as a false god to the Aldmari.
"After the war I wandered. I was Sixteen winters old and my only real trade skills were killing and basic manual labor I found myself with limited options. Look for work based on my size, have no real say in anything and just be a migrant worker drinking away my paycheck while living in past glories or become lean into what I learned at the legion and become a sellsword. I decided to go with the more of the exiting of the two." Ymir no longer sat by the fire, in fact none of us sat at the table. Instead, we were in the hot springs underneath Winterfell at the insistence of said man. He sat about five feet across from me. Bare chested and covered in a thick layer of sweat and body hair but also the honestly scary amount of scars that covered his chest and arms. That's how this life story started a nasty knife wound he had gotten while he was working with Redguard rebels after the Empire surrendered while he continued to fight as a sellsword against the Dominion. A nasty jagged edge of Goblin slave had gone deep into his side and had festered and had never healed right regardless of the work the healers did.
"So I spend the next few decades doing just that. I joined up with the Guild and went from Sentinel to Mournhold and Bruma to Leywin. I killed bandits, goblins, beasts, and on one occasion a Werecrocodile and no amount of drink will get me to tell you about it. It puts too much were on my old heart to talk about it." he chucked to himself. At the last sentence Lord Stark and I shared a glance of mutual confusion. "That's the same look my children give me when I try my hand at wordplay." His words draw my attention back to him shaking his head before he continues. "You'll understand when you have children."
"Speaking of bandits, Lord Stark. I was wondering if you were aware of the cutthroats in the Wolfswood." I ask. The lord of Winterfell turns to me before speaking. His face was red and flustered from the heat of the hot spring.
"Ay, we've been having reports of caravans laden with supplies heading to the wall being attacked and looted for months. I've been meaning be send a group of guards to look into the matter. Rest assured it will be handled." I nod. There was silence for a time. "If you'd like. I can handle some bandits free of charge. I'd just like a favor." Lord Stark laughed "If that's all it cost me go on ahead. But be back by tomorrow" Lord Stark coughed the Measter recommended that we only stay in the water for about half an hour or so but none of us had any way to keep track of time and I began to worry. Lord Stark's face was red, his breath was heavy and his eyes seemed unfocused and he could barely keep them open.
"Ymir, you said that you had been to natural hot springs before in your homeland, correct?" A grunt was the only response I got. "Is he alright?" I ask as Lord Stark began to blink rapidly. Ymir stood up at my question quickly. I avert my eyes so as to not look at his lower half as he looked over Lord Stark. He sighs.
"Looks like the lads got thinner blood than I would have thought. Come on let's get him out of here." Ymir then hulled the lord over his shoulder fortunately Lord Stark and myself kept our small clothes on. So when we hulled out the young Stark he was decent unlike my foreign friend. Maester Wayls was waiting for us when we exited. He took Lord Stark from us saying something about ignorant savages and taking his leave. Ymir put on some trousers and we walked back to our rooms when he finally spoke again.
"I'll be back by morning." He says before disappearing into his room. Leaving me alone for the rest of the evening. Lord Stark did make a visit and was surprised that Ymir had gone off on his own.
"What do you think of him, Jeor?" He had asked me. We sat in my room. The bottle of mead that Ymir had given me sat between us. The only sounds being the quiet fizzing of the drink, the fire next to us and the sounds of the wolf hour.
"If I may speak plainly Lord Stark-"
"Rickard when we are alone, Jeor. It's hard enough to keep up the guise when it's just me and Ways. To be so formal with someone my own age is too much." I smile.
"Well, Rickard. I find him good company. I've seen his ship for myself as well as the proof that he's at least telling some truths. The drink we have in front of us is some of that." I say motioning to the bottle. "Even then I owe him my life. We were attacked together and had it not been for him I likely would be dead finding out who has the celestial dice roll right." He laughs at my joke taking a sip of the mead.
"But do you think he was sent by some dead god of a far off land?" He asks. This one stumps me. Based on what little I know of the man he seems the type to be of light heart enjoying drinking and telling stories. But he clearly has a fire in him that has yet to go out as he approaches his twilight years. But I just can't shake this feeling of something more to him. The thundering shouts he bellows shake the earth and break what is right in the world.
"I think he was sent to Westeros with a purpose. And he intends to do it. And if I may speak plainly?" He nods his head. "I think we're better off being his friend then foe." Lord Star- Rickard. Closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair so that the front two legs were off the ground. Suddenly he slammed back down on the ground and looked at me eyes wide open.
"My father will return the day after tomorrow to gather some things and collect me to head to King's Landing to be present at the new king's coronation. I will speak on the matter with him then. I agree that this man clearly has something more to him if any of his stories are true then we have much to worry about. For fucks sake man, magic? Fireballs Lighting Bolts and Ice flying from a man's hand in order to do harm." Richard shuttered. "He's lucky he ended up in the North where we still have the old ways to guide us. Any southerner and their new gods would try and burn him at the stake the first chance they got." I nod along with him. The rest of the night was wasted away finishing off the bottle of mead and talking of the realm and family until Rickard retired for the evening, bidding me a good rest and I one to him we both made our way to our beds and rest soon overtook me.
The battlefield is horrifying. My brothers in arms at my side stand ready to charge out of our Turtle Shell formation and charge the main gates. Conrad, Dugar, Johan all of us let out a charge as the horn bellows and the blinding desert son enters my eyes. Unfamiliar sites and sounds grace me the High elven mages sending wave after wave of fire and lighting crashed into us. Another cohort was sent flying when a fireball struck a patch of oil left out, sending body's screaming in agony and scorching anyone close enough. My blade meets an elven one a man tens of times my elder screams at me.
"Come on you barbaric Nord! Show me what those muscles can do!" Out blades clashed in a crescendo of sparks and clang. Years of experience made him clearly better swordsmen but he failed to expect the unorthodox strategy of throwing my sword at him and punching him across the face knocking him to the ground. Quickly mounting him I began to rain armored fist after armored fist into the Altmers face until it was nothing more than a bloody mess.
"Get up lad! Don't lose yourself to your rage just yet we have to get into the city!" Turning I see my Captain calling me over. Retrieving my blade I move over to him. Only when I reach him for him to throw me to the ground. Just as I get up I see a massive purple blue bolt of lighting come from the downed body of the Elf. The Captains eyes popped, his body cooked in its armor and he soiled himself all in a seconds time.
I woke up in a cold sweat. The birds were chirping. I was still in Winterfell under furs in my chambers provided by Lord Rickard Stark. So why do I feel like I was just in the deserts of Dorne at war with Altmer? Wait what's an Altmer? Why do I know what that is? That was a nightmare of the ages.
Cleaning myself up and changing into fresh clothes in order to go break my fast. Walking out the door however I'm greeted by Sir Cassel once again his face as grim as ever.
"Lord Mormont, there is a matter in the main courtyard you have been requested by Lord Stark, I've been sent to escort you." I look at him for a moment confused before motioning him to lead the way. After a silence hung over us as walk to the main courtyard where we are greeted by a large group of men and women. The men all bound and gagged sitting in the snow. The women, some with bellies plump with babies are taken inside crying there thanks along the way. And there sat on the back of one of the men was Ymir full plate on except for the helmet which he had positioned under the poor man's gut so if he fell he'd gut himself.
"Morning Jeor, Sir Cassel. I believe these would be the Wolfswood bandits who've been giving you trouble the last few weeks. And Pup? I believe you owe me a favor." He smiled. Rickard did not.
Well this is a rushed mess of me trying to get a story out for the weekend. I have a confession to make. I don't outline stories. I think ahead of what I want to do but I don't have a set in stone path on how to get there. So if this chapter felt a bit rushed and a little shitty that's because it probably is. A few things of note for the reader who requested that I label povs ill be going back and changing chapter titles to match POVS. Ymir I for chapter one for example. Also this one is just for me to try and get this story some more exposure but I don't want to do anything that you guys don't have a say in. Do you think I should move this from Elderscrolls x ASOIAF to Elderscrolls x Game of Thrones? This is simply because there is just more traffic to that particular set of stories. I still will be using the asoiaf wiki for all my pre Canon research but when I start to get to Canon (eventually) i'll be most likely using a mixture of both. I've already done this actually in my search to find out what young Jeor looked like I found nothing about what he looked like so I based the description I did of him based on the actor of Jeor when he was young but changed the hair color to be closer to Jorah's hair in the books. I'll put up a poll to see what you all think. Let's see I almost just had Shor show up out of nowhere and just be like "yep! He's telling the truth and you need to trust him unconditionally or else I'll kill you all." But that felt dirty and it took me a day to just settle on "yeah I have no proof but just trust me" which I'm still unhappy with but it is what feels most appropriate. Next chapter will be Ymir curb stompin- I mean struggling to take down a couple of poorly trained under armed bandits. Yeah. Also! Some of Ymir's actual backstory was in this chapter! He served during the Great war and even though he absolutely deserted at the White-Gold Concordat he still views himself as a proud citizen of the empire or at the very least feels that a united Empire has a better chance of winning against the Dominion. So everyone have a good when ever you're reading this leave a review if you wanna share your opinions send a PM if you wanna talk shop or just whatever.