Chapter 4 The Warrior
Author notes
I'm so excited that there was a huge spike of readers after I upload Chapter 3. More reviews are appreciated. Asking me questions is also fine too.
Does anyone want to comment about the custom card of the chapter? It's a joke, of course, but I also want to know how viable it is.
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Reviews
Hadrian. Caeser: Dragon time!
Wait and see.
Ragnarshadow: You said the wolf spirit affect Jon differently, this make him different from another werewolf? What happen to the Greyjoy?
Answer to both: Wait and see.
…
Previously
"May I have a kiss so we can remember each other by?"
… Something is not right. Her lips feel … Dry?
… "I'm Sorin Markov, Innistrand is mine. Heed me and obey, OR DIE."
…
It is the moment that Innistrad stands still. Rarely does more than one planeswalker interact with each other, but there is currently three here in a confine of what used to be a village: An ancient vampire and a werewolf mother and her pup.
It was at this moment, Arlinn Kord knows they fucked up.
"Lord Sorin?" Thoughtlessly asked Jon. His mother had told him of how dangerous an encounter with the Lord of Innistrad could be. Yes, he is angry that the vampire killed Henrietta. But he also knows not to challenge one such powerful as Sorin. He is of their kind, a planeswalker, but not really. He is one of those that exist since before their kind had fallen from their grace. He lives for many millennia in the time they were all-powerful, where each of them can dominate the multiverse. At his prime, he could drain the life-essence of the entire plane, or if he wants to be even crueler, enslaved the mind of its denizens. Since the mending, every planeswalker lost most of their power, Sorin included. Still, there are many reasons no one wants to antagonize him.
Jon doesn't dare to disrespect the vampire lord, for he knows that Sorin could obliterate both of them with a thought. Yet, he also knows he couldn't show any weakness. Both of their kind are apex predators and will exploit it at the first opportunity. For the first time, Jon wishes he was older so he could not be intimidated so much.
"Lord Sorin?" Echoed Sorin Markov. He seems amused. How couldn't he? For so long since he claimed Innistrad, no one had addressed him as a Lord, even when they refer to him as such. "It seems the pup has some manners."
"Milord. Pardon for my intrusion, but we …." Jon reverts to what he was trained as a Bastard of Winterfell. Sure, his mother teaches him about growing a backbone and takes what he could claim as his. He also had insecurity beaten out of him. But foremost, Arlinn also teaches him how to survive as a planeswalker. Civility and intimidation could only be used with those who are weaker or about the same level as you.
Among planeswalkers, all that matter is one power. The strong dictates, the weak obey. But one must also remember that the weak can band together to overcome the strong. Jon clearly knows that just two of them are not enough to resist Sorin.
"Silence, Pup. You will speak only when spoken to." Interrupted Sorin. His glare is enough to make Jon's blood chills. He wants to retort but no air comes out of his lungs.
"Yes, milord." Jon replied. He is tensed but tries his best to remain vigilant.
"Arlinn Kord." Sorin turns to the older werewolf. "You owe me explanations." He is sizing her up, searching for any resistance. His hand is at the handle of his sword, ready to draw at the first moment he senses aggression.
"I need to explain nothing!" She growls. "Innistrad is my home, and I'm raising my son here. You will leave us alone, and we will not interfere with your so-called grand design." Her body starts to transform. Her arm lengthens, her hair grows. Her eyes turn bright yellow. The changes happen in a split second, proving how much of the mastery Arlinn had over her blessing.
"Fools. Innistrad is mine and mine alone. I merely allow you to stay." His eyes flashe as he bares his fangs at Arlinn. "Know your place!"
Before Jon could blink, both of them turn into a blur. An explosion of black and white occurs when they collide. The shockwave scatters everything in their area. Roofs are flying, walls from different buildings are thrown and mixed into one huge rubble. When the smoke clears, Jon sees that his mother is badly wounded while Sorin suffers much less so. Her arms bent backward in a horrible angle and she has a sword stuck in her belly. The vampire, on the other hand, gets a deep wound over his shoulder, but it's nothing he could not heal from, given time. It was a terrible trade for Arlinn, but that's an achievement in itself. Most would just lose their lives trying to achieve the same and failing to do so.
He looms over her and grabbing her by the throat. "Your bestial instinct overcome your reasons, Arlinn. If I use the parasite blade, you would already be dead." Sorin lamented. He binds her blood to his will, making her shifts back to her human form. "Still, such fierceness, reminding me of my own mother."
"I hate her." With his unleashes his magic to boil the blood inside her veins. "She was the least favorite member of the family, excluding those fools that Edgar sire anyway."
Seeing that his mother is being tortured, Jon yells "No!". He rushes over her body without regarding his own life. "Please, milord. Have mercy." He rushed toward his downed mother and kneels beside her. "I am willing to do anything you command, milord. Please."
Jon plea made his mother's eyes widened. She looks at him with disbelief as if she wonders what have happened to her boy. "Jon…." She calls his name, but it falls to deaf ears. "No…."
"Anything?" Asked Sorin. Once again, he is amused. This little pub holds no regards for neither his own life nor his honor. Arlinn must be very important to this pup that makes the him react like this. That or he just young, naïve and foolish. "I will humor you then. What's your name, pup?"
"Jon. Jon Snow, milord." He bows but keeps his head up, looking right at the vampire's eyes. Even in disadvantage, he remembers to show no fear against a powerful predator like this ancient vampire.
"Snow? What a peculiar name to have." Sorin commented. "Tell me, Jon Snow. What can you provide me that I cannot get myself? You are barely over eight. You are yet to learn how to planeswalk. You mother is yet to teach you how to control your bestial side. Pray tell, little Snow, how can you be of use to me?"
"Aye. Lord Sorin. I may be a boy. But I will not be a boy forever. I will grow and I will learn. I will become of use to you. With the blessing, I will live for centuries. That will be centuries that I can be of use to you. If and only if, you spare my mother life." Jon bravely answered.
"And if I decide otherwise?" Sorin askes again. This time his voice seems less furious. Instead, it seems like he is curious about Jon further answer.
"Then I die with her, and you will lose a chance to have allies by your side. You will lose someone that you can raise and mold to fit to do your bidding." Jon doesn't back down. He stands over his mother, separate her from her would-be attacker. His bright amethyst eyes flashes red with rage and fury. An attribute that commonly doesn't found in wolves.
Sorin seems impressed to say the least.
…
Arlinn is stupefied. She couldn't believe what Jon had said. Her son of a few months is willing to put his life on the line. He is willing to die with her. Not only that, but he also uses this fact to somehow threatened Sorin Markov and it seems to be working.
"Jon." She says his name again. She wants to say more but couldn't. The sword that still stuck inside her belly doesn't help the situation any better. Her supernatural regeneration has stopped the bleeding, but that doesn't mean it lessens the pain. "Don't." She intends to yell it out loud, but it only comes out as a whisper. The one that gets overlooked.
…
Sorin Markov is impressed. He originally wants to teach the werewolf a lesson and assert his dominance. Who would have thought that she would have a pup that she so fiercely protected? So fierce indeed she had lost all her reason, which makes his goal much easier to attain. Surprising yet, the pup decided to put himself on the line to save his mother. He even showed the trait that not commonly found among the wolf: bravery, rage, and fury. The boy didn't just plea for Arlinn life, he demanded either they both live or they both die.
For an eight years old pup, it was an impressive display. But Sorin knows there is more to that. The boy is a werewolf, he is sure of that. But he is also something more. Something so proud and so ambitious.
LIKE A DRAGON.
This is getting interesting. Thought the vampire. He lets out a bone-chilling laugh when he thinks about it. "Good. Good. I have lived for many millennia, but I have never met anyone as brave or as mad." He brushes past Jon to retrieve his sword from Alinn's body. "I have no intention to pick up another stray. The last one I trained under my wings betrayed me and she got lock up inside the Helvault."
He can see that Jon is tensed after he mentioned the Helvault.
Good. He thinks. He fears it. Good.
Using sanguimancy to close Arlinn's wound, he wipes her blood from his spare blade. "Your words bind you, Jon Snow. For sparing you both, you will serve me unquestionably and do my bidding after you become a man." He unleashes a binding curse on Jon. The pact is made, and Jon will honor it. Failure to do so will turn him into an unintelligent thrall under Sorin control. Either way, he wins.
"I will allow you to stay until you have full control of your wolf spirit." Said Sorin. He then turns to the badly wounded mother. "When he can planeswalk, take him back to where he came from. It's not safe to raise a proper child on Innistrad. When he is older, you can take him to meet Ugin on Tarkir. Mention my name and show him my mark, that old dragon will help you. Now, begone!"
With that, Sorin Markov turns back and flies away. He has reaped beyond what he even expected.
The boy will go far. Thought Sorin. Far for me. He internally laughs.
…
One week later.
Jon brought his mother back to Ulvenwald. Their makeshift den is hastily made. It was not a proper den but it was good enough for his mother to rest and recuperate. He had taken to himself to hunt a small game, and on some occasion, a deer. Today is not any different. After making sure that his mother was comfortable inside their den, he went hunting again. Arlinn is healing at a steady pace. Only a few more days before she is strong enough for them to hunt together. After that, they will go to their main den in the forest and kick out anyone that tried to claim it as their own.
The hunting of small game has become a routine for Jon. He tracks down his prey. He lays the trap. And he makes sure that he always stays clear of other werewolves. Even he is of their kind, he is but a mere pup. He may be stronger than normal werewolves, but the others might not think so. He needs to avoid any possible fight, especially when his mother is wounded. Once the secret is out, many would come for them. Many of their kind is little more than a mere beast, and beast always acts on instincts: Hunger, Rage, … Lust. They didn't dare to make an advance on his mother before only because she is way too powerful, and there are many weaker willing bitches. Now? Even they know it will be a hard fight, Jon is sure there are many who are stupid enough to try. His wounded mother might be able to fight them off, but he might not.
All the while, Jon contemplates about what his mother had said after Sorin left.
"Jon. You fool. Sorin doesn't intend to kill me. He wants to teach me a lesson and asserts his dominance. Why do you have to give away your freedom like that?"
Oh, yes. Jon knows that he had fucked up. He had been outplayed. At least his mother understands, hugs and kisses his forehead while doing it.
"He already binds you to your vows with his curse. So, he will likely to prefer you are alive. I think you can trust his words. Be careful though, many on this plane hate Sorin. Do not let them know you are serving him."
She smiled at him even as she was in pain. At that moment, Jon felt proud. His mother seems to be proud of him, even when she said otherwise.
"You are a good pup, Jon. But there is still a wolf to be made out of you yet."
…
Meanwhile in Winterfell
Three months and a half have passed since the day her half-brother, Jon Snow, had "died". Sansa Stark still doesn't understand why her family still grieving, especially her lord father. She heard that her father had received a raven informing him that House Greyjoy had rebelled, right after they found out Jon had died. She had met her father once before he rode off to another war. His eyes were tired, and she felt a grim aura radiated from him, like the Stranger himself had come to take lives. She had to admit it was the first time she feared her own lord father.
When he came back, she found out that her father led the charge on Pike by himself, then challenged and killed Balon Greyjoy right in front of his throne. He then put Balon's youngest son Theon Greyjoy on it with a promise of even worse bloodshed should he tried to do the same. They said that he fought with a ferocity of a rabid beast when they duel. Krakenslayer, they had called him. They said he was so angered by Balon rebellion and their raid on Seagard, he vowed to paint Iron Islands red with blood to prevent anything like his from happening again.
She had never been prouder of being her father's daughter. He was indeed a hero like those in tales and songs. The one thing that she didn't understand was why did her mother doesn't feel the same.
Four-years-old Sansa dreams something special that night. She sees her bastard half-brother Jon, but he has changed, somehow. First, he is a full-grown man. Second, his eyes are bright purple instead of grey. Third, he is kissing a shorter woman with a fire-like auburn hair in a red dress under a weirwood tree. Or is it a taller tattooed woman wearing a green cloak with a strange ear? She seems to not remember that one. The dream is like those described in songs, but with her bastard half-brother in it so it couldn't be.
On the next morning when the family breaks their fast, Sansa tells her mother about her dream and it makes her lose her mind. Sansa doesn't understand what happens, but her father tells her it is okay. She does see him finally smile in months so it must be a good thing.
…
Before anyone realize it, time flies.
I had been two years since their encounter with Sorin Markov. Jon is now 10, or at least he thinks so. Time might not move differently here, and he had no way to make sure of it. The different calendar also makes it difficult to compare.
Jon lands on his butt. Hard. Apparently, Arlinn Kord is merciless when they are sparing. He remembered her words vividly.
Are you a wolf or are you a whining bitch?
They fight with spear, her most proficient weapon. Jon normally prefers a more defensive stance that his mother called an iron gate. He points the spear upward over his right shoulder and tilted the tip slightly forward in front of his left leg, which is the leading leg. This stance gives him plenty of options to react and counterattack with both ends of the spear. His mother, on the other hand, prefers a more aggressive stance with further-reaching called a boar tusk. She keeps her spear parallel to her eyes level and protruding it forward. With her stature, her spear has almost twice the reach of his. Jon is forced to defend against the barrage of attacks that even one mistake could spell death. He needs to improve fast if he wants to survive, such as the law of the multiverse.
Jon focuses on his mother's spear tip and waits for her to move. He doesn't wait long as Arlinn side steps to his left and pokes. He is perceptive enough to see the telegraph of that attack and parry it with plenty of time to spare, clearly, his mother is going easy on him. He resumes the original stance and waits again.
This routine repeats the entire morning, with his mother attacking him with a new angle faster and faster until his defense cannot keep up. Sometimes his mother intentionally slips up just to see whether he could take the advantage and counterattack.
They have been at it for hours before Jon start feeling tired, thanks to his blessed stamina. He sees his mother increase the gap between the two of them and tighten her grips. The clue is very subtle but his enhance sense can pick it up. He reacts by lunging himself forward and extend the butt of his spear out, waiting to intercept his mother defense. Arlinn reacts by twirling her spear to distract her son and thrusts it aiming for his heart. Jon sees this coming and moves his pole to intercept. He successfully parries then sidestep to her unguarded right side. He tucks back his spear and launches it at his mother thick thigh. The point strikes true and it left a shallow wound on its target. Jon feels proud that he finally lands a hit on his mother and enough wound her.
Then he passes out from being his at the back of his head when his mother spin-kick him while he is so cheerfully distracted.
…
Jon feels like his head is going to explode. He most recent memory is that of spear training with his mother. He remembers that he finally lands a hit on her. Then…. Then he found himself here, with a massive headache.
"Oh. You finally awake. Took you long enough." Said Arlinn, tending her wound on her left leg.
"Your wound! Are you alright, mother? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to .." Jon panicked.
"It's okay. You are doing fine, Jon." Reassured his mother. "I think you're ready to learn magic."
"Magic!" Jon shouts. His eyes dilate so hard it almost inverted.
"Yes, you little pup. Magic. I didn't kick you too hard, didn't I?"
"What!" Jon screams as the pain somehow resurface again. "Ouch!"
"Nevermind." Smiled Arlinn. "I think you should also get in touch with your wolf spirit. Tonight, we let the beast out!"
…
Custom Card of the Chapter
Card Name: Merciless Ultimatum
Manacost: 1WWBB
Types: Legendary Sorcery
Card Text: Target opponent choose a planeswalker they control, exile it, then put top two cards of their library into their graveyard. You may exile target creature that player controls, then put two cards from your graveyard on top of your library in any order.
Flavor text: You kids get out of my plane!
