Prologue: Truth's Partially Revealed, and Monster Awoken.
Sometimes, people just think they know what they need, more or less replacing need with want.
People want a hero, someone who can stand up and protect the weak, and help the poor.
People want a warrior, a seasoned man who can lead men in battle and win.
People want a saint, who can be seen as never doing any wrong, or at least in their eyes wrong.
What do people need? Oh that's much darker, and mostly subjective.
Objectively speaking you ask? Well, what most people need is a monster.
An enemy, something they can hate, something that can paint as evil.
Without a monster, they look at each other, and start painting each other as monsters, or even themselves, if left alone long enough.
And what is a monster really?
A monster is someone who is willing to do what they believe needs to be done. A monster is normally no more than an average man, doing something most people couldn't even fathom doing themselves. No truly, I challenge you to find an argument, an objectively factual argument, that counters this point.
I truly do not believe you can, as history proves time and time again. But that's not why we're here, you want a story. A story of a young man, whisked away from his old life, into a new, and brought back into the old, changed forever.
For war never changes, Winter is Coming, and with Blood and Fire, We forge who we are, into who we need to be.
Year- A.C.:290,
It had only been a few months since Eddard Stark had returned to Winterfell ever since the Greyjoy Rebellion. When he returned home, everything was fine…
At least, it was until his ever loving wife, bless her heart, couldn't bear his lies anymore.
More and more she'd argue with him, or start at the boy. Trying to get the bastard he sired into this world to be sent away, whether he was given money to go live on or just sent to foster, anywhere away from her children, away from Robb, away from Theon…
Away from her…
Her fear of the boy only increased, not for what he was, but what he represented. A damning title he held, bastard. Living proof of her husband's unfaithfulness, and the possibility that he may leave her and their children for the woman he sired the bastard with if he still held love for her.
Unknown to her, her fears were unfounded, but given she didn't have all the facts...at least until just a few moments ago….
Winterfell - 11:01 pm, Late Evening. (P.O.V. Jon Snow)
"What do you mean he isn't your son!?" shouted a womanly voice from behind the door, that I sat behind, hiding away and more or less eavesdropping. I was tired of trying to find out who my mother was, tired of trying to rip the truth from my father… Only to come to find, I'm not his son at all…
"Cat...Jon, is not my son. He is my blood, but he is not mine...I…" Came Lord Stark's voice, "I feared for his life, your life, and our families life if the truth came to light…"
"Who…" She asked.
"I cannot say… I promised to protect him, nothing more." He spoke, his voice sounded so, old and broken. Tired and sluggish, worn down and beaten. "He is of my blood…"
"Is he Brandon's? Benjen's? I…" I started hyperventilating at this point, I couldn't understand, this man I had spent so much time living with, isn't my father but is blood? What the blood soaked hells does that mean!? What does any of this mean!?
Sadly, as I went to move, my stumble wasn't missed as I heard footsteps approach the door. Once it swung open, our eyes locked…
My eyes, locking with fa-...Lord Stark's. And then it was a blur. I was running, panicked, scared, hurt. There were many things I was experiencing all at once. I was being chased, so I ran faster. Faster than I have ever ran. Tears streaking down my face.
A lie, my life was a lie, and I couldn't even get the truth?
If he wasn't my father, who? Why? How…?
It was all too much. No one could keep up with me. I ran, jumped, dived, dodged, and ducked. It didn't matter...Once I was outside of the main castle. I sprinted for the forest, and just kept going. I couldn't stop, wouldn't stop… I just, I just couldn't face this.
And so. I kept running. And running, and running, and running more. For what felt like, days, which was more than likely hours until I collapsed. Out of breath, panicked, gagging and throwing up the contents of my stomach.
I had managed to escape...only to find myself in another pickle. I was surrounded by snow lands, in clothing that wasn't meant for this, tattered and damaged. I felt faint… and slowly it all turned black as I slowly recovered.
(P.O.V 3rd Person) Northern Area of Westeros, unknown exact.
And there laid Jon Snow. An unknown child, once thought a bastard, but possibly something worse. Afraid, and alone. Well, as luck would have it, the boy just may get a second chance...just not in the way he would have hoped…
Nor would the world…
Earth, Great American Wasteland, Nevada. New Vegas. 2282. December 2nd
Hero for Hire…
Messiah…
Devil of the West…
New Monster of the East…
Slayer of the Legion…
Scourge of the Enclave...
Titles. All worthless fucking titles to him. A lone figure stood out staring at the great jewel of Nevada, New Vegas. On a highway overhead just a few dozen Kilometers away. Eyes glaring slightly as he remembered everything, from the good, to the bad.
He remembered Vault 18, and all of his friends who survived that hell.
All of the friends who left him to go their own ways within NCR territory.
It seems fate worked much the same here. Years after defeating the Enclave back west, and then disappearing and settling into the courier job, only for the fucking Divide to happen...fuckin divide, and damn Ulysses for being so damn idiot to think there was a damn message, in a tragic fucking accident.
The figure was just glad he hadn't had to murder Ulysses to get him to listen to the whole story. The man thought he had the story, the truth is… He was missing a good fucking chunk of it.
He thought that Courier Six, this figure of a man, had done it with a message behind it. The message? Yeah sure, don't be so fucking stupid with old world tech! Six had been so devastated by the fallout of that, and all he did was keep that fucking Det-Trigger from the damn rocket site near the San Bernardino mountains. All he did was keep it as a memento and a thing to remember the past.
What did he get out of that? All of his fucking shit rocked. He's was just glad he had enough in him to come back from that fucking nuke.
As it turns out, Six is exceedingly hard to kill. Extremely so.
Playing with his collar, choker, necklace thing with the little guitar hanging off of it as he remembered back to that time, back to when he had met his second family. He was much older than them, but well. It came down to something someone said to him once.
"The Blood of the Covenant is thicker than that Waters of the Womb"
Basically, the relations we choose, shall always be stronger than those we are forced to have.
While not the rule, it's something to keep in mind in life. A sigh came from his lips. He liberated Vegas, he all but handed it up on a silver platter, ironically, to a rebel Enclave Faction. As it turned out, they weren't all assholes. Agent Killian is somewhat, but that's besides the point. Arcade was always nice. Kinda cute when he had his face raised enough for Six to see him.
He helped them, and more or less helped them make the place better. Hell already that army of securitrons are being refitted into construction bots of some form. Taking The destroyed buildings and starting from the beginning.
Cleaning and rebuilding. None of this holding a status quo but actually fixing things. Ironically due to them gaining vegas also kept the NCR in check from just taking the place and doing what they want with it.
He was honestly just glad the Legion was taken care of. That Lanius was gone… That fucking demon…
But in his dying words left a mark of truth upon Six. Something this man couldn't help but take to heart as it truly said everything that needed to be.
"Men are shaped by their experiences, shaped by their surroundings, no matter what their birth was. Some men become healers, others warriors...but some, a select few, take a role no one dares to take. The role of a monster, a demon, or devil who will do what they will, what they think they have to, no matter what. That, Courier, is what you are...what I am…What We Are."
It fit a little too perfectly. Because up to this point, he never really cared about how people thought of him, so long as the job was done. So long as the goal he set out to do was done.
From waking up in that ditch, to becoming the most dangerous thing that ever walked the wastes. Almost quite literally. The man that Six was, became the monster that Six is.
Six, the man who would tear men apart with his bare hands as if he was some steroided berserker. Or assassinate anyone who he needed as if a shadow.
Six, reached up and pulled the hat off his head, his mind wandered from Vegas, to the frontier, and back and the wild ride it had been. He remembered Chevy, his admitted first emotional attachment and first emotional scar from a woman.
What's worse, when he thinks back to that, he couldn't bring himself to kill her back then given how she showed up within General Jamisons Enclave faction later nearing the battle of Hoover Dam.
Yeah, that was awkward, so awkward that all the courier did at this moment was chuckle. His armored coat rumbled, and clicked as his shoulders shifted rapidly and repeated, indicating a quiet, near silent chuckle. He looked down to the dirt in front of him and raised his other hand. Holding the dog-tags of his own the Enclave gifted him.
It was truly ironic. But that's life for you.
The courier replaced the long brimmed cowboy hat back upon his head as he put the tag in his pocket and began walking away, towards a simple motorcycle he had taken and fixed up to get around quicker.
It was just like the big empty. He was having some Old World Blues. Now, now was the time for him to move on and embrace the New World Hope, as he sat down, he looked to the sky, his pale, scarred skin glowing in the moonlight. Like that of a wolf.
"Time to go…" Was his voice, a voice that he heard every time, and couldn't help but to think back to before it all, when he awoke in this strange land, surrounded on all sides by evil and forced to adapt to become a survivor. A fighter. A demon. A monster…
His name was Jon Snow of House Stark, and he was the Motherfucking Devil of the West dubbed Courier Six.
With a swift kick and shift of his wrist, the motorbike roared and he was off.
Little did Jon know, with the help of a little magic, he was bound for home once more. Or at least, close enough to home for now.
The irony is, he couldn't help but to think of a phrase that came from not from his house, but multiple.
"For war never changes, Winter is Coming, and with Blood and Fire, We forge who we are, into who we need to be."
Prologue End.
Holy shit its been a while since I've stopped to type up a story. Here's a quick little started o a story rolling around in my head. I'll be surprised if anyone likes this or is really intrigued by it, but Eh. its been bugging me not putting any of it to paper so... Here we go.
As for putting anything to else to paper I promise nothing. I mean, I'm alive (barely) I mean who isn't barely alive right now given all that's gone on recently. Bloody, insanity I tell you. But, back to the topic at hand. Yeah no I live, if anyone cares, and well, this exists now.
To address something. Yes, Jon will be nutty OP in comparison to most people. Physically speaking he is on part with the Night King. (Will explain in story later but, its New Vegas, and I included mod content as a part of it as nothing more as mentions really but still.) As for Morality, Jon's in a grey spot depending on who or what he's got to deal with. Don't worry kiddos. I'm working to make him interesting. Expect a less reserved Jon.
I'm gonna keep my cards to my chest and see where writing this goes. If it hits a dead-end like some of my others...well. We'll see.
Anyways I hope you all enjoyed reading this and will get at least a semi-kicked out of my older stories if you wanna read 'em (Good or not.) Probably not, at least they'll be good for a semi laugh.
Have a good night ya'll and enjoy.