So, here we are again. Now I was debating whether or not to say this...but last chapter I pretty much got an essay about how much the chapter sucked and going into detail about everything I'm doing wrong. Now, I could go off on a long tangent, but I'm not going too. All I'm going to say is that I do have a plan, and that things that may seem strange were not put in simply because I wanted to put them in. Well I did, but everything here has a plan. I've outlined pretty much this whole story that I'm writing now. So even something that may seem insignificant will mean something down the road. For those who've read IATB, you know what I mean.
There is another thing I want to address though. Nox is the main character, but much like Martin I'm going to be bouncing around from character to character so that you, the readers, can get more than one viewpoint as to what is going on. Also, I'm going to kind of skim over explanations of the Force and history of Westeros, mostly because I could spend chapters on outlining each and not go anywhere. So, we're going to keep such things short and sweet here in the opening chapters.
Again, reviews are more than welcome, but if you have criticism please keep them constructive and concise. And again, big thank you to my beta reader and brainstorm pal for this story Tellemicus Sundance.
Chapter 3
After receiving the more than slightly cryptic Force vision, Nox made haste to leave the godswood and return to his room within the guest house of Winterfell. Although to call it 'cryptic' was a misnomer. The vision was quite clear, which was an oddity in and of itself. Most Force visions gave the seer a glimpse of a possible future. But this vision, this vision gave him untold numbers of possible futures, each ending in failure before giving him one that succeeds. It was, strange. Not even the Voss for all their ability of foresight could have such a vision. He was going to have to spend hours in deep meditation to figure out just the hell the vision meant.
He managed to make the return unseen by any of the waking staff and had just managed to step foot back into his room as he felt a servant approach his room. The young girl who hesitantly knocked at his door was a pretty little thing with dark hair that was pulled back and tied into a single braid that nearly reached the small of her back. She held herself with confidence, but despite her apparent confident appearance, he could sense her nervousness and slight awe as she inquired whether he wanted to break his fast. Apparently, his actions in saving young Jon had gotten around the keep since they'd arrived the night prior.
He declined the offer of food, the Force would provide for him for the moment, and instead inquired about if Winterfell had a library and if so, where was it located. The young servant, Nyra as she introduced herself, proudly informed him that not only did Winterfell have a library, but that it was also one of the oldest in all of Westeros and was located within the tower adjacent to the godswood and was attached to both the guest hall and the main keep.
After giving the girl his thanks, he made his way to the library, setting his expectations low considering the state of this world. But when he arrived within the library, he quickly changed his opinion. The library tower was positively massive on the inside. And it seemed as if every square centimeter of shelf and table space was being used to house books, scrolls and even stone tablets. The part of Nox that remained the Head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge was nearly salivating at the prospect before him. He knew many a Sith that would kill for the chance to claim this library for their own, himself included.
Making his way deeper into the library, Nox found a small out of the way table and cleared off the few books that were littered across its surface before heading in between the shelfs, holding his right hand up and running it across the shelves as he let the Force guide him. Within the span of a few minutes, Nox had collected nearly a dozen tomes regarding the history of this continent, Westeros, both ancient and recent as well as an in-depth history of the Northern Kingdom. Setting the books down heavily on the table, he pulled down the first book, one detailing the great and lesser noble houses of Westeros. If he was going to make sense of the vision he'd had in the godswood, then he needed to understand the major players in Westeros.
The wolves were easy enough as they represented House Stark. The oldest of the great houses of Westeros that'd been ruling the North for nearly eight thousand years. An admirably impressive accomplishment. They managed to unite all the kings of the North under one banner, creating the largest kingdom in Westeros and repelling dozens if not hundreds of invasions from the southern kingdoms. The dragons were the next house that he was interested in. But what he found disturbed him. The Targaryen's had been the ruling monarchs of Westeros for nearly three hundred years after one Aegon Targaryen and his sister wives defeated the individual kingdoms of Westeros and forced them into one unified land. And they must've had some inherent Force abilities as they were said to be able to control the alpha predators of this world. The dragons. And combined with the fact that some were said to even be immune to burning, his interest was definitely peaked.
But as he read on, he found his disgust with the Targaryen's grow quickly. Firstly was the fact that they somehow managed to fuck up and lose their greatest advantage and the means to which they kept the rest of Westeros in line. Their dragons, who were now supposedly extinct. And then there was their practice of breeding almost exclusively within their immediately family. Which was honestly completely idiotic. Genetic diversity was essential for the continued survival of a species, not to mention all the genetic disorders that can come about through inbreeding. And the Targaryen's proved to be an almost textbook example of this. Each ruler seemed to either be a great ruler, or an insane one. And more often than not, they fell onto the latter half of the equation. And in the end, it was their inbreeding to madness that led to their destruction as the Mad King Aerys Targaryen and his son Rhaegar Targaryen each contributed in separated events of stupidity and insanity that led the rest of the realm to rebel against them.
Moving on from the Targaryens and the Starks, he began sorting out the other Noble Houses that'd been represented in his vision. The lion represented House Lannister the rulers of the Westerlands, the rose was for House Tyrell the rulers of the Reach. Two of the wealthiest houses in the kingdom but for two completely different reasons. While the Lannisters made their wealth and fame from their gold mines, the Tyrells did it through food production. And while gold was useful, no mine was infinite. And according to what he'd read, Westerlands had been mining gold ever since before the Lannisters came into power. But no mine was infinity deep. If the mines hadn't already run dry, they had to be close. An advantage that he was going to have to investigate. The Tyrells however were the smarter of the two in his opinion. They were named Wardens of the South after bowing to the Targaryens after House Gardner was destroyed and proceeded to make a name for themselves by cultivating their food production. Until he could better spread food production around the land by introducing new techniques, he would have to keep close relations with that house. It was never a good idea to spit in the face of the ones who provided most of the food to a kingdom as large as Westeros.
Moving on from those two, he investigated the remaining Great Houses. The Tullys, rulers of the Riverlands and Lady Stark's family. House Arryn, rulers of the Vale of Arryn. Rather pretentious, even for a Sith, to name the land they ruled over after themselves. Then there were the Baratheons, rulers of the Stormlands, cousins to the Targaryens and now the ruling family of Westeros after the fall of the Targaryens. And lastly there were the Martells, the rulers of Dorne. The Martells and Dorne in general surprised him. For a patriarchal society, Dorne was the outlier. Their women could inherit and were also trained to fight side by side with the men. Impressively progressive given the era and worth looking into.
Then there were two other groups that warranted his attention. The Night's Watch and the Maesters. The Night's Watch was little more than a glorified penial colony that manned a wall that was, to be blunt, almost obscene. He hadn't believed the description of the wall the first time he came across it. But after crosschecking the supposed dimensions of the wall in three other works, he was forced to conclude that what he'd original read was true.
After he was done looking at all the major players, he began studying each of the individual regions of the land. Their estimated population, their exports and imports, their military prowess. Anything and everything he could find. A hundred leagues long, over seven hundred feet tall and three hundred feet thick. And apparently, according to every source he could find, the Wall was built to keep out the wildlings. 'Ridiculous,' Nox thought as he read another book stating the same thing. 'You do not build a wall like that to keep out an insignificant rabble like the wildlings. No, the only reason you build a structure like that is too keep out something else. Something that could threaten all life on the other side. The darkness that I saw in my vision…The Wall is the key to discovering just what that darkness is.'
Making a mental note to come back to the Wall, Nox moved on to the next group; the Maesters. He was impressed at first to discover that this land had a dedicated learning system in place. Even if the culture on this world had not progressed enough to realize that women were just as capable as men. But as he read further and further into them, the more he began to question the motives of the Maesters. 'They say that they swear oaths to the cities and castles, but not to the Lords.' He thought as he delved deeper into the Maesters' ideology. 'What a load of bantha shit. Their oaths are just a cover for their true motives, nothing more.'
There was said to be one Maester in each keep in Westeros, acting as advisors and teachers to the Lords, Ladies, and their children in each keep. But when the Order was viewed through the eyes of a Sith, they became much more insidious. A single Order who would be left alone no matter if a keep was razed and the family butchered. The Maester would remain and serve the next Lord or Lady of the castle. A single Order who could whisper into the ear and 'give advice' to each Lord and Lady of the Realm, as well as the King and Queen. He would have to keep a close eye on these Maesters as well as keeping the Maester here at Winterfell at arm's length.
Setting aside his first pile of books, Nox got up from his spot once more and began to wonder through the shelves. 'If there is an organizational principle to this library, I've yet to find it,' Nox thought grumpily as he wandered through the shelves, letting his fingers brush lightly against the spines of the books. 'Outside of arranging the books, scrolls and tablets by dates, there is no other organization here. No genres. No authors. Nothing. Though, I suppose that the sheer size of this library can afford a forgiveness in the lax on organization. But if I'm going to be making any headway in the near future in this place, I'm going to need to have this library properly organized. Perhaps…yes. I'll write up an organizational structure of the library and give it to Lord Stark. The problem will be in finding those literate enough to help with the organization.'
After selecting another armload of books and scrolls, Nox made his way back to his workspace and dropped the books down heavily onto the tabletop. Turning his back on the pile of books, he set off into the depths of the library once more, this time searching for something to write on and something to write with. It took him nearly an hour, but eventually he managed to locate a pile of blank parchments as well as an ink well and a quill. 'I swear,' Nox sighed, shaking his head as he resumed his seat and dipped the tip of the quill into the ink. 'I think I'm the first Sith in thousands of years to actually have to lower themselves to writing with a quill and ink!'
Putting quill to paper, he began writing out improvement ideas as well as other potential plans or observations. While some of his more immediate and easier ideas he spent the time to write out in the written word of this world, most of his own writing meant for himself was done in aurebesh. Not because he wanted to hide what he was doing, but mostly because while he could read the written word of this planet, he was by no means an expert. And trying to write out the unfamiliar language for all his ideas and plans would slow him down considerably.
After filling out his fourth sheet of parchment, Nox leaned back in his seat and rotated his wrist, cracking his wrist in several places as he did so. "You can come out from behind the shelf, Nyra. I won't bite despite what some may think of me."
The sound of a gasp coming from behind him, followed quickly by the jostling of a tray and the scampering of feet told him all that he needed to know. Not that he had any doubts. It'd been a long time since anyone had managed to sneak up on him. "I – umm…I'm sorry for disturbing you, my Lord." The young serving girl stuttered nervously as she slowly approached him.
"You're not," he responded, pushing aside a few books and clearing a space for her. "Your timing is impeccable. Please, place the tray right here and have a seat if you wish. Far easier to watch me while you're sitting down instead of pretending to clean the same three bookshelves over the past few hours."
He could almost hear her heartbeat as she approached, setting the tray down next to him. The smell of the warm bread and warm soup made his stomach lurch as it decided to remind him that he'd skipped eating this morning in favor of getting to work. Picking up the bread, he tore off a piece and dipped it into the soup, being careful to keep both away from the pages he was working on as he took a bite.
"Are you going to sit?" he asked of the serving girl after taking another bite of food. "I'm sure the seat will be much more comfortable for you."
Biting her lip, Nyra stood still for a moment as she visibly weighed her decision about whether to stay or go. In the end her curiosity about him won out and daintily sat down across from him. The two sat in silence as Nox finished off the last of the offered meal. "Tell you what, Nyra, how about we play a game?"
"A game, milord?"
"Yes," he nodded, picking up his quill and picking up where he left off on his notes. "You're obviously curious about me, and I'm sure the rumor mill is abuzz about me as well. So, here's the game. You ask me a question, any question you wish, and I will answer. And then I will ask you a question. Seem fair?"
Nyra considered his offer for a moment before nodding. "Yes, milord."
"Splendid," Nox smiled while motioning for her to proceed. "So, ladies first."
"Are you truly blind, milord?" Nyra asked without hesitation.
Smirking, Nox reached up and untied the cloth from around his eyes. Across from him, Nyra gasped loudly as his eyes were revealed to her. "Not a pretty sight, are they?" Nox asked rhetorically as he put the cloth back around his eyes. "I don't just wear this because it makes me look dashing."
"I – I'm sorry, milord. Who would do such—?"
Waving his hand, Nox cut her off. "It doesn't matter. It's the past and I can't change what happened. But now, it's my turn in our little game, no? So, what is your opinion on the Starks? And feel free to be honest. Nothing you say will leave the two of us."
Not wanting to take any chances that the young woman might skirt around the truth, Nox gently probed her with the Force, encouraging her to speak more freely than she might've otherwise. "The Starks have ruled the north for thousands of years." Nyra replied almost immediately, her voice taking on a note of respect and awe. "They are always just and fair, especially during the winter years. It was such a terrible thing that happened to Lord Rickard, Lord Brandon, and Lady Lyanna. I was barely a woman flowered when they all died. But I remember clearly how the North mourned for their loss. And, in the end, the dragons paid dearly for thinking they could do what they wanted to the wolves. And Lord Stark has been a great Lord for the North so far. And little Robb is such a good boy. Even Lord Stark's bastard son, Jon, is a nice boy. It's such a shame that Lad – I…I shouldn't say more."
Her answers intrigued him greatly. Not because of the events around the Targaryens and the Starks, he already knew about that. No, what truly piqued his curiosity was the comment she made when describing the Starks. "Winter years?" Nox asked, seeking clarification. "Do you mean to say that winter here in the North can last for years? And does winter affect only the North, or is all of Westeros affected by the season?"
Nyra seemed taken aback by his question. "Yes, milord. The last winter lasted nearly three years and ended just a year past. And…yes. All of Westeros is affected by the winter years."
Rocking back in his seat, Nox hummed. 'That changes things. If winter lasts for years, that means that these people have excellent storage and preserving techniques for their food. But even with the best of techniques, fresh produce and livestock are a necessity. The greenhouses they have are insufficient to feed all of Winterfell and the small settlement outside the walls. Which means they either ration greatly during these years or they import their food from outside lands. This means that my first project will be to better their greenhouse techniques and expand their operations to better suit the needs of the people during winter.'
"Forgive me, milord. Is this not how winter and summer is in your homeland?"
"No," Nox answered shaking his head. "But that's neither here nor there. Your turn now, ask me any question you wish."
This time, Nyra took a moment before asking, "Do you…Do you have a family back in your homeland?"
"Had," Nox replied, fighting against the ache in his chest as a face came to mind. A woman with orange skin and white markings that meant everything to him.
Nyra seemed almost taken aback by his one-word answer, but she caught onto the reasoning by his simplistic answer quickly enough. "I – I apologize, my Lord. I…I know that losing a loved one is painful. My own parents passed during the previous winter. And my older brother…He followed the Starks south during the Rebellion and never came home."
"My condolences, Nyra." Nox replied almost automatically. But what surprised him was the fact that he meant it. He was used to death and had become almost numb to it. As a Sith you had to be in order to survive. And he couldn't remember the last time he'd offered the sentiment at another's passing and meant it. "I believe it is my turn again. You've spoken of Lord Stark and his boys. But tell me, what do you think of Lady Stark?"
Again, Nox sent a gentle Force nudge in her direction. Only this time he applied a slight bit more pressure than he had before. She'd stopped herself from revealing something she didn't want to last time despite his persuasion, and he wasn't about to let that happen again. 'Her presence in the Force is nothing extraordinary, no more so than any other person in the galaxy who isn't a Sith or Jedi. Perhaps living in this fortress that was built using the Force, not to mention that tree which acts a focal point, has given her some sort of mental defenses that she otherwise wouldn't have? Another thing I'll have to look into later.'
As if to add credence to his theory, Nyra visibly struggled for a moment before answering him. "Lady Stark is…of the South. And she has made no attempt at conforming to the ways of the North. Instead, she expects us to conform to her! Lord Stark had a Sept built for her…a sept! In the heart of the North! Had it been ordered by anyone other than the Warden himself, people would've outright refused the request. Even the Manderly's, who worship both the old gods and the new, have never tried to build septs further into the North than White Harbor. She even went so far as to strongly suggest that all the serving staff begin worshiping the Seven if they wanted to truly please her! And her daughters…so beautiful. True daughters of the North… She won't allow for a proper northern lady to teach them. Instead she's insisted on a Septa to teach them. Ha! How is a Septa supposed to teach the she-wolves of the North? Then there is the way that she treats Lord Stark's bastard son. She goes on and on about her House words of Family, Duty, and Honor. And yet she… Oh gods… Please…don't tell Lady Stark I said any of this! I beg you!"
Her tirade was cut off so abruptly that Nox hadn't even realized she'd ended it until she was on her knees before him, almost in tears and clutching onto the hem of his robes. 'Well…shit. Guess I pushed it a little too far.' "Enough of that," Nox said firmly but not unkindly as he held out his hand for Nyra to help her stand. "I told you what is said between us stays between us. And I am a man of my word."
The relief was evident on Nyra's face as she sagged slightly. "Thank you, milord."
"Think nothing of it. I asked a question and you answered truthfully, for which I am grateful." 'But her response is quite telling. Apparently, the Lady of Winterfell rules this castle with an iron fist and isn't afraid of going behind her husband's back on some issues. And she's also highly religious by the sounds of it…I'm going to have to study the Faith of the Seven more. She might prove to be more problematic than I originally thought.'
Pushing himself away from the desk, Nox rose to his feet, cracking his back in several places as he did. "It is a beautiful day out today, isn't it, Nyra?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Umm, yes. It is, my Lord. For an autumn year, it is unusually warm out today," Nyra replied, her voice still lacking the confidence it'd held before her outburst.
"Well, it seems a shame to waste such a day," Nox commented as he faced her. "So, why don't you show me around Winterfell?"
Taken aback, Nyra stuttered as she looked around. "Umm, I'm not sure if that…if I have time to…"
"Nyra," Nox said firmly. "I thought that we agreed not to lie to one another. You were sent to watch over me and what better way to keep an eye on me than by giving me a guided tour of Winterfell?"
The young woman still seemed hesitant, but in the end she nodded. "As you wish, milord."
"Splendid," Nox smiled, offering his arm to Nyra, who hesitated only for a moment before taking it. "So, tell me, is there anything of interest happening around the castle today?"
Nyra thought for a moment before nodded. "Yes. The young Lord Robb and young Jon Snow are supposed to be training in the yard today. They train every other day."
"Is that so?" Nox smiled, an idea forming in his mind about how to integrate himself into the citizens of Winterfell and specifically the future heir and his bastard brother. "Well, this should be quite a show indeed."
Deep within the crypts of Winterfell, Ned Stark stood silently before the three statues marking the graves of his family. To his far left stood the silently staring form of his father while next to him was the statue of his elder brother. A sword laid out across their laps as tradition for the Starks since the time of Bran the Builder. Even if their bones were never recovered, Ned still had had their statues created to honor his family. But it was not his father nor his brother that he came to see. No. As usual the reason he wandered down into the crypts this day was to stand before her statue.
His sister, Lyanna Stark, the 'She-Wolf'. Or as only a few knew her; The Knight of the Laughing Tree…or the Second Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
As it so often did, Ned's mind aimlessly wandered back to eight years ago at the Tourney or Harrenhal. He remembered vividly being so excited about the tournament. He'd be able to see his family again after years of separation. But more importantly, he would be able to formally introduce his friend Robert to his sister. But that excitement was dampened slightly by his friend's actions. Ned loved Robert as a brother, he truly did. But the one aspect that was a strain on their friendship was his constant bedding of anything and everything with two legs, a pair of tits and a cunt. He could still recall the day Jon Arryn had arrived with the news that the betrothal between Robert and Lyanna had been agreed upon. They'd both been happy and proud, Robert even called him his soon-to-be-true-brother. But then Ned's excitement lessened as Robert proceeded to celebrate by taking Ned to a brothel and purchasing two whores for himself before telling Ned to enjoy himself as well.
That was the day that the small grain of doubt wedged its way into Ned's mind. He couldn't believe the audacity of his friend. He'd just been told that he was betrothed, and the first thing he did was get two whores and offer a third to his soon-to-be goodbrother. It was…It went against everything Jon Arryn had taught them over the years about responsibility. Then the second grain of doubt entered his mind just after the announcement of the Tourney at Harrenhal and Ned discovered that Robert already had a bastard daughter in the Vale. That she was nearly a year old! And if the fact that he had a bastard wasn't bad enough, Robert was completely uninterested in her at all!
But despite what he'd seen, he kept his doubts ruthlessly pinned down. Robert would change after he married his sister. Ned was sure of it. But then the Tourney happened. Robert, after meeting Lyanna for the first time ever, proceeded to spend the entirety of the tournament in the company of whores when he wasn't participating in the events or trying to court Lyanna. Then Rhaegar won the Tourney and crowned Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty. And then all the smiles died. And a year later the Rebellion began when Lyanna was taken and Ned's brother and father were executed by the Mad King. Robert, Ned and Jon raised their banners and brought down the Mad King and Rhaegar. And in return…Ned lost the one thing he truly and only wanted in life. Her. His desert sun.
'But you were never abducted,' Ned thought ruefully, almost glaring up at his sister's statue and despising himself for the anger he felt towards his sister. 'You went with Rhaegar willingly. To be his second queen. But why…why did you not contact us? Why did Rhaegar not? I know that I was not the best brother to you when you needed it. But could you not tell us of your plans? Especially when said plans had the potential to alienate two of the Great Houses of Westeros?'
Shaking his head with a tired sigh, Ned banished thoughts of the past. 'The past is the past and the ink is dry. I cannot change what happened as much as I cannot stop the sun from rising on the morrow.' Pausing, he pulled out a single blue rose that he'd taken from the glass gardens and placed in at the feet of his sister's statue. 'My carelessness nearly cost me my last tie to you, sister. But what am I to do? I cannot proclaim to the world that Jon is not a bastard and reveal his true name. Robert, friend or not, would seek Jon's death. And I cannot dishonor my wife any more by giving Jon the Stark name. Please, Lyanna…tell me. What am I to do?'
Ned wasn't sure why he even bothered to ask anymore. His sister was long gone, and the old gods of the North did not provide direction or answers like so many Andals believed that the Seven could. 'I know that you can't tell me what to do, Lyanna, but I hope that you know that I'm doing my best to keep my promise. I'm keeping him safe.' Placing his hand against the cold stone of his sister's memorial, Ned spared his brother and father a last parting glance before making his way out of the crypts.
Coming out of the crypts, Ned cocked his head to the side as the sound of cheering reached him. Following the noise, he soon found the source as it seemed that nearly a quarter of Winterfell had descended upon the training grounds. 'Now what is going on here?' he thought to himself as he quietly made his way towards the crowd. 'Robb and Jon should be training today. And while it is not unusual for the Lord or his Heir to garner a crowd while they train, it should not warrant this much attention.'
Moving carefully through the crowd, Ned was more than slightly surprised at what had drawn their attention. It wasn't his son nor Jon that'd called for their attention. No, his boys were both standing side by side on the outskirts of the training ring with Ser Rodrik as they both cheered for what happening before them. Nearly two dozen of Winterfell guards were littered across the training grounds. Most were nursing bruises or in other cases a cut here or there associated with an intense sparing match. Even Jory Cassel, his captain of the guard, was down on one knee, gasping for breath while he leaned heavily on his tourney blade.
And standing amid the carnage was the newest addition to Winterfell, Alim Nox. Unlike the guards of Winterfell, who were all scattered, wounded and exhausted, the foreigner appeared barely winded as he stood calmly in the center of the ring with his tourney blade lazily relaxing across his shoulder and the only sign of obvious exertion on him was the light sheen of sweat across his brow. "Come now, Jory," Nox sighed, as Jory struggled to rise to his feet and bring his sword up. "This is almost getting tedious by this point. Why don't we just call it and end this charade?"
Rising shakily to his feet, Jory brought his tourney blade up into a mid-guard and set his feet. But even from the distance he was at, Ned could see that Jory was struggling to even keep hold of the blade let alone to attack. "I will never back down!"
Sighing, Nox raised his blade off his shoulder and settled into a stance Ned had never encountered before. His feet were spread wide and his body turned slight with his left hand and arm extended straight out while he held his blade above his head in his right hand so that it was almost perpendicular to his arm. "Very well then. Let us end this then."
With a cry, Jory lunged for Nox, his form perfect and his blade steady as it traveled the distance aiming to pierce Nox in the chest. But at the last second Nox moved, his blade slicing down and altering the direction of the lunge to pass him by. Jory tried to pull up, but he was committed, and his momentum wouldn't allow him to go any other direction than forward. And as he passed Nox by, the foreigner slashed back up. Striking Jory unimpeded into his chest. The force of the strike, combined with his Captain's forward movement, lifted Jory clear off his feet and brought him down onto the ground hard flat on his back. And before he could even make a move to recover, Nox had brought his tourney blade back down so that the tip was now pointed directly at Jory's exposed throat.
"I…yield."
Pulling his sword away, Nox held out his hand for Jory while around the yard the men and women of Winterfell either cheered or groaned as more than a few pulled out a few coins and passed them to people around them. But before Ned could make his presence known, Nox turned directly towards him and inclined his head before announcing his presence in a loud and clear voice, "Lord Stark."
All noise in the courtyard died as everyone turned towards him. Holding his head up, he steadily made his way towards the ring, taking note of the guilty look in the eyes of his guards and especially in the eyes of Jory. 'Regardless of what caused this little spar, all of them have just been defeated by a foreigner. A foreigner that they outnumbered by a large margin. And in front of their liege lord no less.'
"Nox," Ned greeted the man, still unsure of just how to address him properly. He was obviously a highborn given his manner of speech and dress, but he'd yet to give himself a title. Only Jon had done that. "May I ask what brought this about?"
Nox merely shrugged. "Just a minor dispute on the viability of different training methods and what can be introduced to increase the combat effectiveness of your men, my Lord."
Looking around again, Ned took careful note of all his beaten and bruised men. They were his best. And they had all just been humiliated by a man who didn't even look like he'd exerted himself at all in taking them down. Deep within him, he could feel wolfsbood blood he constantly kept him check come to life. His man, this stranger, came into his home and embarrassed his best without hardly breaking a sweat. He could not let this stand.
"I see." Ned said simply, reaching up and unsnapping the clasps that held his overcoat in place and removing it from his shoulders.
The entire courtyard began muttering again as he made his way over towards Robb and Jon. Handing his cloak off to his son, he took the tourney blade that Jory offered him and made his way to the center of the training yard while giving the blade a few almost lazy swipes through the air to get used to the weight. While he did, he could feel the wolf within him starting to stalk back and forth as it always did before Ned fought. 'No,' he thought back, forcing the wolf within him back down as the lessons taught to him by Jon Arryn came to the forefront of his mind. 'I must be calm. Collected. I cannot let the wolfsblood control me.'
He could almost feel the wolf within howl in agony as he forced the beast back into its cage. Now was not the time. He had to focus. Be calm. It was the wolfsblood that got him into this situation before he could even realize it. He would not allow the same wolfsblood that cause his sister's and brother's deaths to cause any more trouble here today.
Across from him, Nox tilted his head slightly to the side, his covered eyes staring at him without looking almost as if he knew the conflict raging within Ned. "Interesting." Nox commented before resuming the same stance he had against Jory, feet widespread, sword held in the air and left hand extended. "Let us see what you can do, Lord Stark."
Sliding his front foot forward, Ned made an exploratory thrust at Nox. His opponent immediately countered with the same move he'd used against Jory just a moment ago, bringing his blade down to redirect his thrust before countering with a reverse slash aimed for Ned's chest. But unlike Jory, Ned was ready and moved his body to side enough to evade the slash and counterattack. His attack met nothing but air as Nox skillfully sidestepped his attack and reset himself just out of range of Ned's reach.
For the next few minutes, Ned continued to make probes at Nox, trying to find some sort of weakness or flaw in his technique, yet he found none. The man's defense was perfect. His stance, while strange, positioned Nox to deflect and counter everything Ned threw at him. And his footwork was beyond excellent as he deftly moved around Ned while they fought. Yet for all his defense and evasion, Nox had yet to launch a single attack against him.
The wolf within him was howling in rage, struggling against the binds Ned had placed on it as it stalked back and forth, begging to be let lose. 'No.' Ned thought viciously. 'I let you lose once before! And I lost my head and it cost a life! It made her turn from me…I can't let you out again!'
Deflecting yet another of Ned's attacks, Nox planted his foot clearly in Ned's gut, forcing the wind from his lungs and making him take a step back to avoid his follow up attack. An attack that never came as Nox just stood there, his sword lowered, and his guard gone. "You can't win like this, Lord Stark."
Coughing and catching his breath, Ned righted himself and brought up his guard. "What do you mean?"
He could almost see the eye roll behind the man's covered eyes and for a moment, he was back as a boy in the Eyre being tutored by Jon Arryn and his Master at Arms. "You can't fight us both and hope to win, Lord Stark."
Ned was brought up short by the comment. 'He…He can't know…can he?'
"The wolf, Lord Stark." Nox continued, confirming that, somehow, he did in fact know about his inner struggle. "The wolf, if you want to call it that, wants to be let free, Lord Stark. It's part of you. Call it your instinct if you will. You cannot fight me while trying to keep a reign on the wolf at the same time. And if you want any hope of besting me, then you will need the wolf." Swinging his sword around almost lazily, Nox resumed his stance. Only to change it a moment later as he held onto the blade with two hands while bringing the hilt to his back shoulder with the blade pointed at the sky. "And if you won't let go willingly, then I will force it out of you!"
The next instant, it was as if Ned was fighting a completely different opponent as Nox dropped all defense and went on the offensive. His blade was little more than a blur as Nox swung the blade almost wildly, his body twisting and turning as it went with the momentum of his blade. And it was all Ned could do to keep his guard up against the seemingly unending onslaught of attacks that Nox was raining down on him.
Eventually Ned could no long keep up with the onslaught and one of Nox's swings caught Ned clear in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and sending him to his knees as he coughed, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth. Holding his hand out, Ned stopped the servants and his guards from rushing to him, as he no doubt knew that they were.
Raising a hand to his mouth, Ned wiped at the blood forming on his lips and looked down at his own hand in wonder as he stared down at blood, his blood, that coated his hand. Within him, the wolf howled in anger and for once, Ned did nothing to stop it as he slowly rose to his feet. He'd been humiliated in his own home. Bested by a man he didn't know. A man who knew nothing of the North. A man who knew nothing of winter. Who knew nothing of House Stark and the wolfsblood. Yet who dared to say that Ned stood no chance against him. Deep within the cage he kept it in, the wolf howled again, this time in freedom as Ned let go and unleashed the wolf within. 'He wants to see the wolf.' Ned thought as he spat a wad of blood out of his mouth and reaffirmed his hold on his tourney blade. A smile coming to his lips as he reveled in the fight to come as the wolfsblood took hold. 'Then that is what he'll get!'
Rushing forward, Ned met Nox's attack with one of his own. Their blades locking for the briefest of moments before separating as the two began dancing around one another, their blades striking one another with the strength of a blacksmiths hammer on an anvil. As it did back when he fought Arthur Dayne, time seemed to almost slow as Ned seemed to know exactly where and when Nox would attack and where and when he would be open. But unlike his fight years ago, when he last let the wolf be free, this time not only did Nox keep pace with him, but he almost seemed to be…pushing him. Whenever Ned would match Nox blow for blow, the man almost seemed to speed up slightly, forcing Ned to call on the wolfsblood more and more as he fought harder than ever before to keep pace with the foreigner.
Everything around the two of them disappeared into nothingness, leaving only Ned and Nox as he focused in on his opponent while the wolf within him continue guiding him, letting him match Nox blow for blow. As Nox changed from one move to the next, he saw it. A slight opening when he turned to his left. Waiting like the patient wolf he was, Ned lunged for the opening the moment he saw it once more.
But Nox defied all laws of logic as his body bent backwards until his head nearly touched the ground behind him in order to avoid his attack. And then he twisted, his body never leaving its angle as he twirled around and behind Ned. Pain exploded through his legs as his knees collapsed as Nox's blade struck him in the back of the leg. Before his knees could hit the ground, Nox's hand was on his shoulder and the tip of the tourney blade was pointed at his throat.
"Well done, Lord Stark," Nox stated, his breath coming and going in rapid pants. "Well done indeed."
Blinking, Ned felt the rush of the wolfsblood leave him, leaving him lightheaded enough that he would've fallen forward if not for Nox holding him steady. "You as well, Master Nox." Ned wasn't sure if 'Master' was the correct term to call Nox or not. But he was without a doubt a master with a blade, so the term seemed adequate for now.
Doing his best to hide just how much he was relying on Nox to steady him, Ned rose shakily to his feet. Taking a deep breath of the cold northern air, it was all Ned could do to remain standing as he turned towards Nox. "Your training is, indeed, most impressive," Ned conceded. "If you are willing to train the men of Winterfell, I will be grateful for your aid."
Nox merely nodded, no sign of bravado nor superiority showing on his face. "I will have a training regime drawn up and delivered to you by the end of the week, Lord Stark."
"Good," Ned nodded, turning away from Nox and facing the crowd.
It seemed as if the crowd surrounding them had grown to the point where everyone in Winterfell had watched the duel. Even his wife Cat and his young daughters, Sansa and Arya, were in attendance. And everyone was staring at Ned and Nox in complete silence. Cat was looking at him like he'd grown two heads, and Sansa and Arya were staring at him in the much the same manner. Jon and Robb however, they were both staring at the two of them with open mouths and shocked expressions on their faces. Blinking, Ned turned around slowly to survey crowd. Just about every face was a mirror of Cat or his children's. 'Hells…When did everyone get here? How long were we sparing for? And…why are they looking at us like we are two of the old gods come back to life?'
"Alright," Ser Rodrik called out, saving Ned from having to say anything as he stood awkwardly before the assembled crowd. "You all have duties you need to see too! Now clear out!"
Everyone in the yard immediately began to disperse save for Cat and his children. Robb was the first to speak up, running up to him with a large grin on his face as he nearly bounced with excitement. "That was…That was amazing, father! Is that what your fight with Arthur Dayne was like?! Was Nox tougher than Ser Dayne? How did you move so fast? Did it hurt when—"
"Robb, give your father some space," Cat cut in sharply, reprimanding their son who backed down under his mother's gaze. "Husband, are you alright? That…man seemed to have landed a few hard blows."
Given her tone, he could tell that she wasn't pleased by that. Not by the fact that Ned was bested, but more by the fact that Nox dared strike him. "Aye, he did land a few good ones." Ned acknowledged, rolling his shoulders and his knee slightly to try and lessen some of the pain in them. "But it was as expected. I would've been insulted if he'd held back against me. A few bruises are the cost of training in the yard. And a lesson for the future. Remember that boys."
"Yes, father."
"Yes, fa – Lord Stark."
Ned didn't miss the way that Jon quickly corrected himself, nor did he miss the slight twitch in Cat's eye at Jon's correction. "Good." Ned nodded. "Now, off with you lot. You all have your evening lessons before dinner. I expect to hear good things from the Maester and Septa on your progress tonight."
Biding his children and wife goodbye, after taking a moment to reassure Cat that he was in fact fine, Ned made his way back to the yard, searching out Ser Rodrik. He quickly found the man talking with his nephew near the weapons rack. The two were talking in harsh, whispered tones with the younger of the two frequently motioning with his arms in a manner that suggested he was trying to figure out some of the techniques and moves that Nox had used during the spar.
"Ser Rodrik, Jory."
"My Lord," both men bowed, cutting off their conversation as he made his presence known to them.
Hanging up his tourney blade, Ned faced the two men he trusted more than any other when it came to martial prowess here in Winterfell. "Tell me what you think of Nox."
The two men looked at one another, seemingly unsure of just how to answer him. "My Lord, his skill is undeniable," Ser Rodrik replied cautiously. "But there is something…off about him, my Lord."
"When he started sparing against myself and our men, my Lord," Jory continued, "I…I could've sworn for a moment I felt…cold. As if the Stranger of the Seven had descended upon us and taken form in that man. It lasted only a moment, but for that moment I honestly felt like I was going to die just from standing before him."
"And then there was his fight with you, my Lord." Ser Rodrik continued slowly. This time taking his time as if he were measuring each word before speaking. "Forgive me for asking, my Lord but…have you been holding back when you train with our men?"
That brought Ned up short. "No." He answered simply. He didn't believe in holding back when it came to training. You did yourself and your sparring partner no good if you held back.
Shifting his weight, Ser Rodrik looked more than slightly uncomfortable as he continued. "I didn't mean to give offense, my Lord. But that man took on over a dozen of our best and bested them while hardly breaking a sweat. And then you were able to keep pace with him. A pace that, quite simply, my Lord, was unbelievable. You two were moving so fast that I could hardly track your blades. And…and there was one more thing, my Lord. I don't believe anyone else saw but myself and Jory…but we both saw what we saw and…"
"And what?" Ned pressed, growing slightly agitated at the hesitation in his Master at Arms as the wolf within him was still prowling, angry at its recent defeat.
"Your eyes, my Lord." Jory picked up for Rodrik. "Your eyes were yellow. Like a wolf."
The wolf within Ned quieted as shock swept through Ned. 'My eyes…changed color? Ridiculous.' Yet as he stared at Ser Rodrik and Jory, there was no lie in their eyes. They meant what they said. And he trusted them. "The wolfsblood," he muttered, turning and staring off in the direction that Nox had departed in.
"Sorry, my Lord?"
"The wolfsblood, Ser Rodrik." Ned repeated, turning back to the two men. "Nox, he said something during our spar to me. That I needed to stop holding the wolf in. That I needed to let it out otherwise I would have no hope of defeating him."
The two men blinked and looked even more uneasy. "My Lord," Ser Rodrik said slowly. "You…Neither you nor Nox uttered a single word during your spar, my Lord. You both kept quiet and focused on one another. And that was it."
Hours later when the sun had sunk well below the horizon, Ned found himself in his solar indulging in a horn of ale. He wasn't necessarily one for drinking. But tonight, after his fight with Nox and the subsequent conversation with Jory and Ser Rodrik, he felt that it was more than warranted and needed. 'My eyes turned yellow like a wolf. And Nox and I talked without talking. How…How could such things happen without my noticing?'
Taking another drink from the horn, Ned settled deeper into his chair as he stared into the fire burning in the hearth before him. The wolf within him seemed almost…content now. It was no longer pacing nor howling. It was at peace. Perhaps because Ned had done as Nox had suggested? He'd set the wolf free from the cage he'd built around it during the spar. And afterwards, he'd simply forgot to put it back. But now…now he almost didn't want to put it back. What he felt during the spar was…turbulent. Anger, fear, excitement. All surged through him in a rush giving him strength and speed he didn't know he possessed. And afterwards when the wolf had quieted, he'd found a peace he hadn't known since before he'd been sent to foster at the Eyrie.
"Come in, Vayon," Ned called out without looking over his shoulder.
The door to his chamber opened and he heard his steward shuffle in. "My lord, um, forgive me but…how did you know I had arrived."
Ned was about to answer that he'd heard his knock, but then stopped himself. He hadn't heard a knock. There'd been no knock. He'd simply known that Vayon was outside his solar. "I was expecting you." Ned lied, finishing off the last of his ale and rising to face his steward. "Has Nox completed the training regime?"
Vayon recovered quickly from his shock and nodded, handing Ned a roll of parchment. "Aye, my Lord. He's written up quite the regime. While I am no expert in the field, my lord, I worry just how many of our men would be able to complete such training."
Unrolling the scroll, Ned's eyes widened as he kept unrolling more and more. When the length of the scroll had surpassed the length of his arm with still more to go, Ned stopped and rolled it back up. "Give this to Jory and Ser Rodrik." Ned commented, handing it back to Vayon. "They will have to change some of the suggestions. But if this training can produce warriors even half of the caliber of Nox, then few will dare to challenge the North again."
"I agree, my Lord," Vayon nodded, taking the scroll back before handing Ned another. "This is a list of supplies that…Nox wrote up. He says that he needs what's written on here in the quantities written or greater to begin several projects that will benefit Winterfell and the North."
Taking the scroll, Ned unrolled it and began reading. 'Clay. Bone ash. Limestone. Straw. Coal. Mortar. Fine grain sand. Dozens of other building materials but nothing expensive. But the quantities that he's requesting will take more than sometime to collect.' "And has he mentioned what projects specifically he needs these for?"
"No, my lord." Vayon responded by shaking his head. "But I did not ask either."
"I see," Ned replied, rolling up the scroll and setting it back down on his desk. Turning his back on Vayon, he faced the fire once more. "Tell Nox I wish to speak with him at first light in the godswood before the heart tree. I will ask what his plans for these materials are. And if I deem them worthy cause, then you will see to having them delivered."
"Very well, my Lord," Vayon bowed. "Will there be anything else, my Lord?"
"No," Ned replied, resuming his seat before the fire. "You are dismissed for the night."
"Thank you, my Lord."
Hearing the door to his solar shut, Ned closed his eyes and tried to find the wolf within him again. He found it easily. Relaxed and at peace. Which brought Ned no small amount of peace as well. Conjuring up the cage he'd kept the wolf in for years, he was about to put it back but then hesitated. Why did he need to cage the wolf? Jon Arryn had known of the Stark's wolfsblood when he'd arrived, and he'd always stressed that Ned couldn't let it control him. That he needed to keep the wolf contained at all times. Yet…letting the wolf out had allowed him to go strike for strike with both Arthur Dayne and now Alim Nox. And he felt…at peace with the wolf released. So, why should he cage the wolf again? But at the same time, it was the wolfsblood that convinced Lyanna to run off like she did and subsequently start a war. It was the wolfsblood that caused his brother to run down to King's Landing and call out the Mad King and his son and demand justice against them. Little good came from the wolfsblood.
Within him, he could almost see the wolf perk up, its eyes staring at the mental cage Ned had made for it. As the minutes ticked by, the wolf did nothing but stare at him and the cage, waiting for Ned to make his move. 'No,' Ned thought, dissolving the cage within his mind, which almost seemed to make the wolf happier as it resumed its rest. 'I will not let fear rule me.'
Waking the next morning, Nox slowly extracted himself from the warmth of his bed. The cold northern air kissed his naked flesh as he rose. While this land was not the coldest that he'd ever been in, that was and would always be Hoth, it was still slightly colder than what he was typically used too. But despite the chill, he had slept completely naked. That was a habit he'd picked up after spending more than a few nights with his light, and they'd even occasionally ended up literally destroying each other's clothes by morning. And thus, he couldn't sleep well while wearing clothes.
'Okay, I really need to rethink my priorities on how to advance this world,' Nox thought with a frown as he bent backwards and cracked his back in several places at once, relieving the stress that'd built there. 'A proper mattress is now high on my list of things I need to teach this world.'
After completing his morning exercises, he made his way over to the small desk and picked up his clothes. 'I'm going to need new clothes soon too,' he thought, staring down at his Sith robes. After days of wearing them, their stench was staring to become most noticeable. He'd just finished putting on his pants when he felt the presence of the serving girl Nyra just outside of his door. "No need to knock, Nyra. You are free to come in."
"Milord, I brought you a change of – oh my! I…Forgive me!"
Smiling, Nox could almost hear the young woman's thoughts as he focused in on her. Her back was firmly turned towards him, but he could feel the embarrassment and…more than slight desire that was coming from her. Deciding to have a little fun with the innocent young woman, Nox didn't bother to finish getting dressed. "There is no need to be shy, Nyra. I'm not. Unless you believe that I have something to be ashamed about?"
"No!" Nyra nearly shouted. The wave of desire within her thickening as her determination rose and she turned back towards him. "Umm, like I was saying I – by the old gods! What…What happened to you, milord?"
There was no need to ask what she'd meant. His chest, back and arms were covered with dozens of scars due his time as both a slave and a Sith. "Ah, yes," Nox nodded as he could feel the woman's desire dim. "Mementos of my past life. My life has not been easy. I would say that you should see the other guys, but they're all dead now."
The young woman didn't say anything as her eyes roamed over the dozens of scars adorning his chest before becoming locked on one. The one that should've ended his life. Nox didn't stop her as she took a tentative step forward, her hand rising seemingly of its own accord. He stood still as she reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the scar just to the right of his heart where Thanaton's lightsaber had pierced his chest after their first meeting. "By the gods…How are you still alive?"
Her touch, her voice, the look in her eye. They were the same as hers when she'd first seen it. Ashara. His light. His love. The one who'd been taken from him by the infighting of the Sith. Almost involuntarily, he stepped back away from her touch. His own playfulness gone as the painful reminder that his light was gone brought him back to reality. "Sheer luck, or the will of the gods, if you will." Nox responded far more coldly than he'd intended. "It doesn't matter now. It is in the past. And the one who did this is dead. Killed by my hand."
Nyra seemed frozen to her spot, her hand still raised with her fingers extended. After a moment, she shook herself and took a step back, her eyes widened with a slight fear. "Forgive me, milord. That was…That was far too forward of me."
Again, her thoughts were as clear as day to him. She was afraid that he would mention this moment to the head maid and then it would get back to Lady Stark. And if that happened, then the Lady of Winterfell would throw her out of the castle on her ear with nothing but the clothes on her back. "There is nothing to forgive. And what happened here will not be spoken off." Nox said, her fears lessening with his assurance. "And the fault is mostly mine. The last woman to touch me there…"
Recognition dawned in Nyra's eyes. "The woman that you…?"
"Yes," Nox answered not unkindly.
"I – I'm sorry, milord." Nyra responded, her voice laced with sorrow. "You must have cared for her greatly."
"I did," Nox replied, walking towards Nyra, who froze in place as he approached her. The hammering of her heart easy for his enhanced hearing to pick up as her breath quickened. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman. But as much as his body craved the warmth of a woman in his bed again, his heart was not ready. Not yet. The wounds Ashara's death left on him were still too fresh. So, instead of taking the young girl as his body yearned to do, he merely took the clothes she'd brought with her and turned his back on her. "Was there anything else?"
"Yes," Nyra breathed, trying her best to compose herself before him. "Lord Stark wishes to speak with you in the godswood when you are ready."
"I see," Nox nodded. He'd expected this. The awakening of Lord Stark's Force sensitivity had no doubt been a shock to the Lord and he was sure that the man had more than a few questions for him. Setting the clothes aside, he reached for the top of his pants before stopping and turning back to Nyra, "Well, my dear, unless you want more of a show, I suggest you take your leave. But if you do want a show, then I think it'd only be fair to show me yours as well."
Her face went red as she quickly backpaddled her way out of his room. "No! I mean, ummm, yes, I mean… Good day, milord," she stuttered before making a hasty retreat out the door, almost slamming it shut on her way out.
Chuckling to himself, Nox went about the task of undressing himself and redressing in the clothes that'd been provided for him. As he pulled on the rough woolen and leather clothes, Nox's mind inevitably went back to what'd just transpired, and what had almost transpired. The serving girl was attractive, there was certainly no denying that. And she was obviously responding well to him. The Sith within him was yelling and screaming at him to take her and take his pleasure that he wanted. But a stronger part of him, the part that laid within the light, the part that allowed him to love Ashara held him back. It'd barely been a year since his light was taken from him. And while his body was more than willing, as evidence by how difficult he currently found it to undress, his mind and soul just wasn't ready to move past Ashara. Not yet.
Once he'd finished dressing, he made his way out of the guest quarters and towards the 'godswood' as the locals seemed to call the miniature forest they kept within the confines of the castle. 'Has to be of religious importance,' Nox thought as he passed by the two guards standing vigil near the entrance to the godswood. 'The books I found stated that the Northmen believe in the 'old gods'. Spirits that can see through the faces that'd been carved into the weirwood trees. Yet these gods have no names. And given that the weirwoods act as focal points for the Force, it can easily be assumed that the early first men mistook the 'old gods' for the Force itself. Entirely possible. And something to dig into when I have more time to conduct proper research into this world's history.'
Walking into the center clearing in the godswood, Nox caught sight of the Lord of Winterfell sitting on a large stone placed before the weirwood tree, his somber grey eyes focused unseeingly on the reflective pool before him. Strangely enough, the tree didn't seem as vibrant in the Force today as it did the day prior. In fact, the presence of the Force was almost muted completely. Much like when he'd first arrived. 'Curious, the tree was almost burst with the Force when I first stepped foot into the godswood. But now…now it is so muted that only those highly adept in sensing the Force could recognize it. Most peculiar. And one more thing to look into later.' "A heavy expression for so early in the day, Lord Stark."
"Nox," Lord Stark responded, his eyes not leaving the reflective pool. "I knew you were there before you even spoke. Even though you approached without a sound, I still knew you were there. Sights. Sounds. Tastes. Textures. Everything is…more intense. As if I'd been living my life in a fog until today." Pausing, the Stark tore his eyes off the reflective pool and met Nox's covered eyes. "I asked you here today for answers. I do not know if you believe in the old gods or not, but it is that that when in the presence of the old gods through the weirwood, one must tell the truth or be cursed by the gods themselves. So, in presence of my gods I ask you Nox, what did you do to me yesterday during our spar?"
'Fairly blunt,' Nox thought, somewhat amused as he held his hands behind his back and began to calmly and slowly walk around the reflective pool towards the Warden of the North. "I did nothing, Lord Stark. I merely encouraged you to open the cage, as it were. You were the one who did so. And from what I can sense, you haven't closed it off again either. But before we travel down this path any further, Lord Stark, let me ask you a question if you will. Do you know what it was that you had locked away within you?"
Ned turned pensive as he went back to gazing upon the reflective pool. "My family calls it the wolfsblood. It…It isn't well defined. But it's been associated with my family since the time of Bran the Builder. It was said the Bran used the wolfsblood to help design and create the Wall and Winterfell. It was said that it was the wolfsblood that helped the Starks to defeat all the other kings of winter and unite the North. And some even say that it was the wolfsblood that made Torrhen Stark kneel to Aegon the Conqueror."
"It's as good a place to start as any," Nox nodded. "The wolfsblood as you know it is a metaphor for something far greater. The Force."
Blinking, Lord Stark brought his attention back to Nox. "The Force? What is that?"
"Everything and nothing." Nox replied, as he started to pace back and forth in between Lord Stark and the reflective pool. "The Force is the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. It surrounds us, binds us, drives us. Everyone is affected by the Force, whether they know it or not. But those who are strong enough in the Force can use it and bend it to their will. I suppose, to put it simply, the Force is magic. Although that is a great under simplification of what the Force truly is. One could spend their whole life looking to understand the Force. And at the end of their life, they would've only begun to scratch the surface of the mystery that is the Force."
Leaning forward with his hands on his knees, the Lord of Winterfell gave Nox his undivided attention. "What can you do with this…Force? Is it possible for anyone to learn?"
Unfolding his hands from behind his back, Nox raised his right hand and reached out with the Force. On his command, several of the smaller rocks, no larger than a man's head, began to rise and circle around Nox and Lord Stark. The Lord of Winterfell watched with wide eyes as Nox guided the dozen or so rocks in between the two of them and began to stack them on top of each other. "Only those who are Force-sensitive can utilize the Force. Lifting rocks is merely the beginning and a good exercise for those who are learning," he explained. "But, as I said, lifting rocks is merely the beginning. You yourself used a typical Force technique the yesterday that all Force adepts learn: Force precognition. In short, the Force was allowing you to see glimpses of what was to come. That was how you knew when and where I was going to attack and how to counter it. And you've also been using another technique where you reach out through the Force to know your surroundings without seeing or hearing them. That is how you knew that I was approaching. As of now, you are using these abilities involuntarily and without focus. In time, you can hone these abilities to better utilize and control them."
"Unfortunately for you, while it is possible for you to learn some abilities, it is far too late for you to begin formal training. You're too old. Your mind is too set. Perhaps if you were younger or if you hadn't denied your connection with the Force for so long, it would be possible to fully train you. But now it is too late. Formal training must begin during the early years of a Force adept's life while their mind is still malleable. The longer one waits to begin the training, the harder it is to train their mind to do what must be done to utilize the Force."
The Lord of Winterfell appeared pensive as he kept his attention firmly on Nox. "But there are those who can learn here in Winterfell, is there not?"
"You catch on fast," Nox nodded. "Your children, and Jon, they are all Force sensitive. Jon is the most powerful, but there is no doubt that all of your children can be trained."
The wheels in Lord Stark's head were visibly turning as he sat there before the weirwood tree. Obviously, what Nox could offer was invaluable to him and his House's future. But despite the obvious benefit that the Force could offer, he could see that Stark was still hesitant. "And what does it take to teach someone this…Force?"
Rubbing at his chin, Nox could see clearly what Lord Stark's concerns were based around. Obviously, he could see the benefit, but his children had responsibilities as future Warden and Ladies of the North. They couldn't afford to spend all day everyday learning from Nox. "Learning to use the Force is a lifelong commitment, Lord Stark. But where I came from, those who were Force sensitive also had a heavy hand in the running of the Empire."
Leaning back on the rock, the Warden of the North looked intrigued. "Tell me what these lessons would entail and everything you can about the Force, and of your home. You said that you cannot return and that there is no possibility of those of your home coming to us, but I want to know as much as you can tell me about this…Empire of yours."
Manipulating the Force to arrange the rocks he'd been moving around into a place to sit, Nox sat down in front of Lord Stark. "That will take some time."
"My schedule is clear for the day." Lord Stark countered. "Now, talk."
The rest of the day passed with the two of them sitting in the godswood before the weirwood tree discussing the Force and aspects of the Sith Empire. When answering questions about the Empire, Nox kept his answers as vague as possible while constantly reassuring Lord Stark that there was no way that the Empire would ever grace the shores of the North or Westeros. Besides, he doubted that Lord Stark would truly believe him if he told the truth about the Sith Empire and that they could travel between the stars at will and controlled a fair portion of the known galaxy.
When it came to aspects of the Force, Nox was more forthcoming. Every question Lord Stark asked, Nox answered. He explained the differences between the light and dark sides of the Force. When he sensed the man's apprehension at the title of 'dark side', Nox spent quite a lot of time explaining how while there were a many aspects of the dark side that could be considered 'evil', it was all in the way that the Force was used. After all, a sword could be considered both good and evil pending how it was used. So too was the Force. And by utilizing both aspects of the Force, one could negate the negative aspects of each side to a high degree.
By the time the sun had nearly set, the two men had nearly exhausted almost all the Lord of Winterfell's questions, and now Lord Stark was silent as he sat staring off into the distance. "You've given me a lot to think on, Nox. I cannot say that I am ready to have my children learn this Art… But I am not saying that they will not either."
Nearly growling at the resistance of the man, Nox did his best to keep his anger in check. "Forgive my bluntness, Lord Stark, but that decision may no longer be yours to make."
Lord Stark turned sharply towards him, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Explain."
Folding his hands under his chin, Nox met the Lord of the North's grey eyes with his sightless eyes. "Jon and the others are all highly Force sensitive. Perhaps in another life they may have gone their whole lives without doing anything suspicious that couldn't be passed off as dumb luck. But now with my presence and your awakening to the Force, that option is no longer viable. Your children will learn. The Force will come out in them, whether you want it too or not. It will start with small, almost unnoticeable things. But eventually the children will begin to hear the Force calling out to them and they may start to experiment. At which point, if they do not have access to a proper instructor, they could become a hazard to themselves and others around them."
"And you are the only qualified 'instructor' in all of Westeros and Essos I take it?" Lord Stark questioned, or more correctly stated, with a harsh edge.
"Yes," Nox shot back simply. "Take it as you will, Lord Stark. But it was not my intention to come to this land nor to fall into your lap, nor to find that all your children can use the Force. Had I the choice, I would be back in my homeland, far away from here, and you and yours would remain completely oblivious. But I no longer have that choice. The Force brought me here, and now I am stuck here. So, I might as well do what I can while I'm here."
Lord Stark didn't say anything more as he continued to meet Nox's unseeing stare. "I need more time to decide. And I will say no more on the matter until I've reached a decision." Lord Stark declared.
Again, it was all Nox could do to keep his anger in check. 'He doesn't understand fully what I'm offering him and his children. I need to make an example…but how and where?' "As you wish."
Nodding, Lord Stark rose to his feet, prompting Nox to follow suit. "There is something else I wish to discuss with you. You sent a list of requested building materials to my steward. What are they for?"
'Good, he took the bait.' "First, tell me this, Lord Stark. Winter lasts for years here, does it not? If so, then why do you have so few greenhouses? Or glass gardens as you call them."
"Because Myrish glass is expensive. The expenditure to create another such garden would cost most of the revenue of the North." Lord Stark answered. "It is cheaper to buy our crops from overseas or from the south."
"In the short term perhaps, but not the long term," Nox countered. "But that's a topic for another time. You wanted to know what I need those materials for? It's simple. I'm going to give you and the North the means to create glass."
That brought the Lord of Winterfell up short. "You—You know how to make Myrish glass?"
"Myrish glass? No, can't say I do," Nox answered. "But I do know how to make glass. Perhaps of even higher quality than what's been used to create those glass gardens of yours."
Lord Stark was silent as he took in just what Nox was offering him and the people of the North. "If you can hold true on your promise, Nox…Then you will have made a friend of the North, and of me. And your place in the North will never be questioned again."
'Hook. Line. And sinker.' "Then I shall do my utmost to keep my word."
Nodding, Stark began heading towards the path leading out of the godswood before stopping after only a few steps. "Tell me. You were a…Sith in this Empire you were a part of? Did you have a title?"
Nox couldn't keep the smile off his face. He was beginning to get Stark to his side of things. "Yes. I was part of the Dark Council…Think of it as your Small Council here in Westeros. As such, my position allotted me several other titles: Lord, Darth, Master. Head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge. I held a lot of titles in my tenure."
"Master Nox," The Warden of the North stated, officially granting Nox said title as he turned back towards him. "I will see to it that what you've requested is delivered within a moon's turn. Keep true to your promise and offering, and I will see to it that some of your titles are restored."
"I assure you, my Lord Stark, I intend to keep true on my word," Nox bowed, deferring to the Lord of Winterfell.
Without another word, Lord Stark turned his back on Nox and made his way out of the godswood, leaving Nox alone.
Once he'd felt Lord Stark's presence completely leave the woods, Nox turned his attention to one of the rocks nearby. With barely a thought, the rock floated into the air, and then was pulverized into dust as Nox closed his fist. 'That…was infuriating,' Nox growled to himself as he banished the dust of what was once a rock to the air.
Part of him, the Sith part, wanted nothing more than to call Lord Stark back and dominate his mind and turn him to his way of thinking. 'With his Force attunement as it now stands, simple persuasion is out of the question. His mind was strong to begin with. But now with the Force aiding him, persuasion will be next to impossible. I'd have to outright dominate his mind and turn him into little more than a thrall. But such domination would destroy who he is, and what happened would soon become obvious to not only his family, but all of his vassals as well.'
However, another part, a part that Nox had thought destroyed until he'd met Ashara, was saying something completely different. 'No…She…She wouldn't approve of that.'
Many in the Sith Empire thought him weak for falling for Ashara. Not only because he'd truly fallen for her, his apprentice, but then there was the bonus of her being neither a human nor a Sith pureblood. But in truth, Nox didn't care what his Sith brethren thought. He'd never felt more powerful than he did after Ashara taught him some of the light and started to thaw his blackened icy heart. And his battle with Revan only confirmed what he thought. True power laid not within the Dark nor the Light side of the Force. But within both.
Turning to the heart tree, Nox let his conscious flow out as he reached through the Force and touched the ancient focal point. 'I'm trying, Ashara,' he thought, hoping that his thoughts and feelings would reach his light through the Force. 'I'm trying to change into the man you saw me as. It's hard. You know how hard it is. And living amongst the Sith made it seem impossible. But perhaps…that is why the Force brought me to this place. To start anew. A new order both Sith and Jedi. I wish you were with me, my light. To share in this. I need you now…more than ever.'
The wind picked up in the godswood as the red leaves of the heart tree swayed in the wind. Yet it was only the weirwood that was affected, as none of the other trees nor leaves in the godswood stirred. Tilting his head back, Nox felt the cool air brush against his face. He couldn't hear her voice, nor feel her presence, but he knew that his light was reaching for him through the Force. 'Thank you…my love. We will see one another again. But not yet. Not yet.'
Standing within the covered bridge that connected the main keep of Winterfell to the armory, Lord Stark stared down at large crowd that'd gathered below. 'One moon,' Ned thought to himself as he watched as Master Nox weaved his way through the crowd, leading six of House Stark guards who were carrying a large sheet of glass, the first glass ever produced in the North, between them. The panel was nearly the length of a full-grown man on both sides. And the glass was thick, far thicker than what currently made up the glass gardens. Yet it was still just as translucent as myrish glass. He could also spot Robb and Jon nearly hanging off of Nox's arm as the two asked question after question of the foreign man.
"Simply amazing, my Lord. He actually did it."
Beside him, Lord Wyman Manderly was staring down in open awe as he watched the guardsmen of House Stark carefully position the sheet of glass onto four logs that'd been placed under each corner of the glass panel. After sending the request for supplies and the reasoning for them to White Harbor, Lord Manderly had all but raced to supply Winterfell with whatever they needed. He'd even gone so far as to personally oversee the delivery as he too wanted to see if Nox could do what he said he could and had managed to deliver everything that'd been requested in little more than two weeks instead of a full moon's turn.
"Aye, it is," Ned nodded, watching as Nox instructed the guardsmen to step back, leaving the glass panel braced on the logs alone. "But now it is time to see if he spoke true about the strength of this glass."
Lord Manderly merely shrugged. "Even if it is not, the fact that we now know how to make Myrish glass is a gift from the old gods and the new."
Conceding the point, Ned watched as Nox raised right hand. As if he were a puppet master pulling the strings of a puppet, a nearby boulder the size of a man rose steadily into the air and began floating over the glass.
It was a testament to the mentality of the North that no one below seemed to even bat an eye at the obvious display of magic. Of course, this wasn't the first time Nox had used his strange magic in front of the denizens of Winterfell, so that had to be considered as well. The first time Nox had outright used his magic in front of everyone was on his fourth day within the walls of Winterfell when a cart was having a wheel replaced and the supports gave way, nearly falling on the man who'd been working on it. But before the cart could crush the man, it stopped in midair and then rose and floated off to the side, sparing the man any injury.
'It was fortunate that his first open display of his magic was to save a man from harm,' Ned thought as he watched the rock hover over the glass panel. 'That, combined with the North's somewhat neutral stance on magic, has allowed him to be quickly accepted by the people of the North.'
Nox's second display of magic was when he built the furnace necessary to heat and make the glass. The structure was much like a bloomery, only several times the size. It was almost large enough for a grown man to crawl within. But what should've taken several men a couple of days to build, Nox finished in less than half a day. And on top of that, he'd also presented plans to make a much larger version that he called a 'blast furnace'. And if he claims about the amount of steel that could smelted using this supposed 'blast furnace' was true, then the North could soon outpace any of the other kingdoms in terms of steel production. The only thing that would slow them down was procuring the raw materials needed.
Below them, the noise of the crowd died down to a bare whisper as Nox held up his hand with his fingers extended, the boulder was the length of a man's arm from the glass. His raised hand closed into a fist and the boulder dropped freely. The impact with the glass was heard throughout the yard. Yet despite its size and the distance it'd been dropped from, the glass held strong. The people in the crowd exploded as they began shouting in celebration as the men who'd been assisting Nox with the creation of the glass suddenly found themselves surrounded with those offering their praises.
"Well, I'll be…" Lord Manderly chuckled. "The son of a bitch actually did it. Not even the best Myrish glass could've survived that."
"Aye." Ned nodded, doing his best to keep his face stoic instead of showing the surprise and elation he was truly feeling. Down below, Nox took a moment to break away from those celebrating him to look up at himself and Lord Manderly. No words were exchanged, but the knowing look was enough for Ned. 'He truly is a man of his word.'
Beside him, Lord Manderly was less reserved in his thoughts and feelings. "Has he explained how his magic works my lord? Can anyone learn it? I'd give my right arm if either of my sons could learn to do even half of what he's done. Hells, I'm even considering betrothing my eldest daughter to him so that their children might inherit his gift. Do you know if he has a woman or not, my Lord?"
'He has explained his magic and there are those who can learn. But I have yet to let him begin teaching my children. Cat's fears of his magic corrupting them still weighs heavily on my mind,' he thought before speaking aloud, "Aye, he has. Apparently, one needs to be born with the ability. It is not something that can just be taught to anyone. And as for him having a woman, those that've talked frequently with him have mentioned that he had a woman, but only that something happened to her and she is now dead. As for a match to your daughter, that is up to him. He is not of House Stark, so his betrothal is not for me to decide. But won't his magic cause problems for you and yours?"
Lord Manderly seemed taken aback by the question before snorting and shaking his head. "My family may worship the new gods, my Lord. But we worship the old as well. And we are of the North. We are not like those southern cowards. Magic doesn't scare us. It's a gift from the gods, something to be embraced. And can you imagine it, my Lord? If your children or any others could learn it here in the North? None would dare threaten the North again!"
Manderly's words nearly made Ned wince. 'Here is a man who worships the Seven, yet he is not only accepting of magic, but he wants Nox to wed into his family. No doubt hoping that Nox's magic will be passed on to his children. So, why am I so hesitant to allow my own children, who will one day lead the North, to learn the Art?'
Before he could respond, a flutter of grey in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Maester Luwin had just entered the bridge from the keep, his steps hurried, and a raven's scroll clutched in his hand. "Maester Luwin," Ned greeted the aged Maester as the man all but ran to them. "You missed the demonstration, Maester. But the glass held just as Nox predicted it would."
Luwin paused then, his gaze going down to the crowd below before shaking his head. "I – I'm sorry I missed it my Lord. But there was a raven from King's Landing, sire. It's…It's not good."
Taking the message from Luwin, Ned unrolled the small scroll and read the message. His heart filling with dread and anger as he read. 'He knew…Nox fucking knew it. But how? I remember that day well…I'd felt something…strange through this Force power that Nox is always talking about, but I didn't know what it meant and Nox wouldn't tell me outside of informing me that I would know soon enough. I need to know how he was able to interpret that…sensation to this.'
"My lord?" Lord Manderly said cautiously, quickly catching onto Ned's worsening mood as he lowered the message. "What news?"
"Dark wings and dark words, Lord Manderly," Ned responded solemnly. 'I must do my duty. No matter how much I want to stay here in Winterfell. Especially with Cat's recent announcement that she's two months along with child.' "The krakens have sacked Lannisport and are raiding up and down the western coast. Balon Greyjoy has declared himself King of the Iron Isles and is in open rebellion with the Iron Throne. King Robert has called for all the banners to assemble and attack the Iron Isles in order to bring the Greyjoys to heel."
