The Blessed Bastard

By

Dsteele2010

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, Twilight, Rome, Lord of the Rings, or the Inheritance Cycle, nor any other story of which I derive my plots. The characters and stories belong to those respective authors from which they originate.

Author's Warning: This will be the only warning for this story. It will be derived from Greek Mythology, but by NO MEANS is it a crossover. Just a different take on the Old Gods of Westeros. This story will be as close to canon as I can manage in the beginning, though it will later deviate as it is obviously not the original story. This story will be GRAPHIC and DETAILED, with violence, sexual references, and political and other thought-provoking themes. It will be detailed in every way. If that is not your style, or if that offends you, STOP READING HERE. If it is something you will enjoy, please continue and be sure to message me or leave a review on what you think. As it says in my bio, I enjoy hearing how people like the story, what they want to see (though the story is already planned out a good enough idea may change my mind on some things), and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome. Hate mail or hateful reviews will simply be deleted as they serve no purpose in a community that should support one another. This is my first fully published story and may contain many mistakes, feel rushed, or otherwise, but I will try my best and I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter One: A Blessed Child

"They need help. They cannot survive the coming war." A man said in a booming voice, turning to face his companions. Once, he had been young and handsome, filled with power over the sky and more. Now he was old and looked his age. Now he had little power compared to the days of old. Next to him were his family. All old, all withering, except a few lucky ones who had enough worshippers to escape the ravages of time, yet not enough to help their family regain their own powers and immortality. Once, he was known as Zeus, King of the Gods. Now, his name was forgotten, and he was simply known as one of the Old Gods.

First, the titan war had eradicated much of humanity. Then it was discovered that either Chaos or Gaia had created more lands with more humans and other gods to rule them. Gaia and Tartarus raised the Giants, and once again they forgot about the new lands and mortals in order to protect themselves from this new threat. Then Typhon, father of all monsters, came. He was the toughest they had ever fought, and many of them fled to distant lands in fear. Zeus stood alone in that battle, and caught Typhon sleeping before defeating him with many lightening bolts and sending him back to Tartarus. Their children with the mortals, known as demigods, diminished further and further as each war progressed. Legendary heroes, including Perseus, Achilles, and more recently Bran the Builder and the Prince, all passed to the Underworld.

Their influence faded quickly, but they still had power. With this power, they sealed the physical entrances to Tartarus and the Underworld, all except for in the far north of their country, as it was forbidden by ancient law to totally close off other realms. Then the White Walkers came and almost destroyed all life in Westeros had it not been for their children. As sealing this entrance was forbidden, they built a great wall with the help of their children. This wall, for eight-thousand years, stood in protection against the monsters and enemies to the North, manned by their children who all took the black and forsook families, wives, and more to endure a life in the blistering cold to protect the realm. The Night's Watch, they became known as in tribute to Hades for agreeing to seal off access to his realm without direct help from himself, and also because a son of Hades ruled these people. Heroes, they were called, and they were revered and cared for.

Over time, their vows became forgotten, though this concerned the gods FAR less than the actual manning of the wall. It DID concern them when aid slowly stopped coming as it used to. Over time, the realm forgot about the enemies to the North and fought one another instead, leaving the Night's Watch to only recruit a handful of good men, whilst picking from the scum of the realm for the rest. Their supplies, too, ran low over time. The gods could no longer interfere. Most of them, as time went on and they lost more followers, were unable to physically manifest on the earth to create new demigods or influence events. They also began to fade. Zeus lost all followers, as did Ares, Hermes, Artemis, Apollo, Demeter, and Athena. The only reason they had not faded was due to the generalized power they got from the occasional general prayer to the "Old Gods" from their remaining followers.

Some of their family were luckier and yet more cursed than they, for their domains of love, sex, fire, water, death, and home/the hearth would never go without some amount of prayer, practice, or sacrifice. Aphrodite, goddess of love, pleasure, beauty, procreation, fertility of the body, passion, and desire, had retained her remarkable beauty and many still prayed to her, though they called her "goddess of beauty and sex" instead of her name. It still served to give her some power, though not near as much as named prayers or sacrifices would. Hephaestus, Hestia, Hades, Dionysus, and Poseidon were all in much the same boat. Prayers were sent to them, but under different names, and no true sacrifices, though Poseidon came closest as the "Drowned God" that the iron born still occasionally sacrificed to. These gods and goddesses who had kept some small measure of their power could only affect things from time to time, usually conserving power for centuries before appearing in physical form to influence events or have children. Their power being far weaker than before however, these children only received a small fraction of the blessings they would have. For example, Poseidon's children could not breathe underwater, but could control the water from time to time, and Aphrodite's children such as Sansa Stark, Daenerys Targaryen, and Margaery Tyrell, once and still more numerous than any other god or goddess, were hailed as beauties but fell far short of what beauty they could possess and held no charmspeak abilities.

The power of their children would never increase unless their own power increased once more, and that was unlikely. This had depressed the gods and they rarely held council more than once every five years, choosing instead to dwell in their own sanctuaries with their significant others until they faded entirely. Even those with some power rarely foraged into the world anymore, choosing to fade with their family instead. Hardly any minor gods or goddesses remained any longer, faded long ago.

Clever they thought themselves millennia ago when they began to lose influence as their country was invaded and their worshippers killed. The children of the forest had worshipped them religiously, pun intended, and were being killed by the First Men. They had these children, elf-like beings that they were, carve faces onto weirwood trees for them as a symbol of their power, much like their thrones in the heavens. The thrones, however, were tied to worshippers, whereas the trees simply gave them power, sight, and influence by existing. Houses they blessed and represented: Targaryen dragon lords for Zeus, Lannisters for Aphrodite, Iron born for Poseidon, Baratheon for Ares, Arryn for Hermes, Martells for Apollo, Night's Watch for Hades, Tyrells for Demeter, Stark for Athena, the Redwynes in the Arbor for Dionysus, and with Artemis, Hestia, Hera representing the small folk and the rules for which each person should follow such as guest right and marriage and parenthood. Now, very few trees existed as the men from the East came with their foreign religion and began to kill the First men and the children and cut down the weirwoods. A new threat, created by Tartarus before the entrance had been sealed millennia ago, came in the form of White Walkers and their wight army, and they diminished their followers and trees even more before being stopped.

An older man standing next to him with green eyes, once known as Poseidon, God of the Seas and Earthshaker, nodded. Zeus turned to the rest of the council. His eyes shone a bright blue, something they had not seen for some time.

"I will not leave them to their fate. We may fade, but I say we do so happy knowing we did one last good thing for this world. We've all saved up enough power to influence the world once last time. Aphrodite and Ares have a child that we put in stasis years ago, believing correctly that our power would fade, and that Stasis would prevent him from fading. It is time we give that child a chance. I say we let him be raised by the mortals who believe in us, and we bless him, all of us, with whatever power he may receive from such a thing. When we give him to the mortals, he shall be our champion, to help save the world one more time. Who knows, if we do not fade from the attempt of blessing him, perhaps the child can help us by instilling a little more faith in the world as well." Zeus proclaimed.

The other gods looked astounded and slightly fearful at such a suggestion. So long had it been since their last decision made in council together, since building the Wall in fact, which had taken most of their remaining powers. One by one, however, their resolve hardened. They did not know what happened when gods fade, but if they were judged anything like the mortals, they preferred to go out doing one last good deed. If they did not fade, this could only help them. The child, too, being blessed by all of them, would benefit and gain power by increasing the prayers and sacrifices to them.

"What if the child, a male if I remember correctly, were to become evil?" Artemis asked. Male-hatred aside, as she could care for the occasional honorable one, it was a valid question.

"We-we hope he does not. Not the answer you all want to hear perhaps, but our only option nonetheless." Zeus answered. "Either the boy will be good or evil, but he will grow as all children do, experience all walks of life as all do, and give into the things that give him pleasure as all do. This, we cannot help or know. Should he prove evil, and yet gain us power if we are still around, we shall deal with the monster we have created at that time. If he proves good, we allow him to live his life as he sees fit. Immortal he will be, this we know, unless war or illness takes him. He will forever be immune to the passing of time as we are. Our reward to him, therefore, should we not fade and he succeeds, will be immortality given to one he cares for the most."

The gods nodded in agreement and the baby was brought forward. When they gathered around him, they began their work, the old gods influencing the world, likely for the last time. The baby glowed as blessings entered his body, and the spark of knowledge entered his eye as his mind grew far beyond what should be possible for a baby, centuries of knowledge and power entering him, and Zeus locking them so that he must discover each piece of knowledge on his own before it would unlock almost as muscle memory, except one piece of crucial knowledge that told him what his mission in life would be.

"His name?" Zeus asked as they finished, feeling their power drain slowly.

"Jon." Aphrodite said with a nod from Ares. Zeus nodded, and each god cast forth their power together and the baby vanished, sent to their greatest supporter, ending their great work. Miles away, in the mountains of Dorne, a baby cried in (Ned) Eddard Stark's arms while information entered his mind along with a command to protect this child, a child of his gods.

"Jon, they call you little one. Jon you shall be. Jon Snow, officially bastard of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Unofficially The Blessed Bastard of the Gods. I will protect him, I swear it." Eddard Stark proclaimed, with the only witness Howland Reed, a trusted friend, nearby to witness.

8 years later

Jon POV

"Excellent! Most excellent!" Ser Rodrick Cassel exclaimed as he helped up one of his men from the ground. He was the Master-at-Arms for Winterfell. Lord and Lady Stark sat watching with their two girls, Sansa Stark, a rare northern beauty with red hair, and Arya Stark, wild and untamable as ever, as their eldest, Robb Stark, second oldest, the bastard Jon Snow, and their youngest son Brandon Stark, trained in the practice yard. Bran was struggling with archery, Robb was sparring and holding his own with his own instructor, but Jon was the main focus at the moment.

Jon picked up a wooden sword at 6 and learned how to use it. He used the weapon instinctively, almost instantly better than anyone else within his first four sparring sessions. They had him train with a blunted blade at age 7, and he mastered that too within a few fights. He had soon mastered each weapon, preferring a sword, bow, dagger, or spear in that order. Knowing also that he had not gained the muscle needed to fight head on, he utilized moves nobody should instinctively know in order to defeat his opponent. At 8 years old now, he proved this by sweeping the legs from under his opponent after a disarming maneuver when they overextended. Occasionally the boy lost if it became a contest of strength, but not often.

Added to this, Maester Luwin practically sang the boy's praises, hailing him a prodigy. The boy was extremely intelligent, picking up strategy, tactics, history, sciences, mathematics, languages, knowledge on the noble houses, general and hidden knowledge, and techniques within a few weeks of study. The Blessed Bastard, the people had begun to call him. It was believed the Old Gods had blessed the Starks with such a child. A shame the boy would only be a bastard, for he could do great things, whereas bastards were stuck in their lot in life unless they did something heroic enough to catch the eye of someone who would raise them to knighthood or lord's status. Very few lords existed who could or would do such a thing. Also, Lady Catelyn Stark was very uncomfortable around the boy, being a constant reminder that her husband had been unfaithful. The one time the honorable Lord Eddard Stark was not so honorable. Having been a boy barely a man and at war, very few blamed him.

Lady Stark had occasionally been kind to the boy, however, so it seemed that his charm was enough to ensnare even her. Very few could resist the boy when he smiled or asked for something politely. It was strange but endearing, and the boy had a sort of beauty and handsomeness even at his age that marked him as one that would be looked at in the future as one of the best looking men in the world. It was similar to Sansa, the beauty of the North since she was a child, only so much more intense in Jon. Only Lord Stark could resist it fully, it seemed. Even his sisters and brothers were susceptible, making him the favorite sibling amongst them all. This unfortunately had led to multiple attempts on the boy's life and person. First was the man trying to kidnap him to raise as his own as they found out under questioning. Next was the couple who wanted to sell him to slavers, then the man who attempted to rape him as a child. Each had been beheaded by Ice, Lord Stark's Valyrian Steel ancestral blade, when he proclaimed that they would face the King's justice.

He helped the man up who had just been knocked down by Jon within moments of the spar beginning and told him to take a breather. When Robb finished his opponent, he squared the two boys off. They began circling one another before Robb feinted left before looping around to a slash from the top. Jon parried the blow with ease before stabbing at Robb with lightening speed. Robb responded slowly but still managed to block the blow. Knowing he was bigger than his younger brother, Robb stepped in close, hammering blows down on the smaller boy. Jon, for his part, evaded the attacks as much as possible and only blocking when he had no choice, but always twisting away as he did so. The fight, few minutes though it had been, was already lasting longer than most of Jon's fights. Robb had skill with the blade, more than most, but apparently not enough to defeat Jon or keep him busy for too long as Jon spun around another blow where Robb overextended himself and received a blow to the back of his legs, sending him to the ground.

Everyone in the yard clapped as Jon helped Robb back to his feet. The brothers embraced, showing no hard feelings, though Catelyn Stark's eyes tightened somewhat at seeing her firstborn defeated by a bastard so easily. It went away so quickly Jon wasn't sure he even saw it. They approached their parents and Lord Stark stood.

"A fine small tournament! You've done a fine job Rodrick! Keep working hard boys and I cannot wait to see how good you both are when you reach adulthood. Now, wash up, and be in the great hall for dinner in an hour." Ned Stark said to everyone there. Breakfast and dinner for the castle and its inhabitants were always held at the same time each day, lasting two to three hours apiece, while lunch was usually served throughout the day as you could get time off to get it. The Noble family almost always attended, and Lord Stark made it a point to sit with someone new each day rather than always sitting at the Head Table in order to better know his people. He taught his children this same custom. Of course, you could always take dinner in your rooms, or wherever you worked such as getting a basket put together by the cooks for the smithy when they were extremely busy, but sitting down to eat always felt better.

Robb never experienced much of anything other than castle life, being raised to one day take his father's position, but Jon was luckier. He could go where he pleased, work with whom he pleased, as long as he was on time for lessons and training and events. He had experienced all jobs from smith to guardsman for at least a month at a time and knew how they worked. He also knew the truth about himself. A bastard, aye, but a divine one. On his 7th birthday his father who had actually raised him, Ned Stark, told him the truth about his heritage and like it had been waiting for that moment his whole life, it clicked. All the knowledge about the gods and what they had done fell into place.

After this happened, Jon spent four days alone. Ned thought the boy to be angry but in truth Jon was planning. He wanted to grow up to increase worship to the gods and find out whether they faded or not. After finding out his heritage, many things changed. He became very intelligent, remembered many of the things he was blessed with although he had no idea how to use or train those powers, and became even better at warcraft. He also became something of a mischief maker, always pulling pranks on the unsuspecting and getting himself in trouble. He also felt awkward around women, though for the life of him he could not understand why. This was his blessing from Aphrodite, though instead of conveying desire as he was too young to understand it, it simply translated into discomfort for now.

Jon made it to his quarters and began washing himself in the hot water awaiting him in the tub, drawn by one of the servants no doubt. He settled into the water relaxing for about ten minutes before he washed himself and got out as the water began to grow colder. It was then, as he wished it could last longer and began to get out, the water suddenly heated up to almost boiling, though the temperature felt perfect to him. Confused for a moment, he sat back down and finished relaxing in his bath. It was not the first time this had happened after all, many strange things happened to him. The water reacted to him, plants and animals had odd reactions to him, and even the rain did not touch him once when a downpour began. This had in turn fueled the rumors circling him. He assumed it to be part of his heritage, though he wished he could control it better. Sometimes he could, whereas others he just felt silly and wondered if it was a joke.

Oh well, not like he had anything better to think about at the moment…

16 years old

Jon POV

He became a man today, and he didn't mean losing his virginity, that had happened a year ago to a pretty whore with red hair named Ros. No, he meant today was his name day. Sixteen years old, and so much had changed from the time he was eight. The rumors that had begun then had become full out worship in the North. People almost practically worshipped him, or more accurately, they worshipped the Old Gods at the trees after he mentioned to them that perhaps it was they who had blessed him. The people soon began worshipping religiously, daily sometimes. He still had no indication that the prayers did anything for the Old Gods by that time, so he encouraged food, animal, and monetary sacrifices as well, giving the names of the Old Gods he knew from birth to the people to use with the sacrifices and prayers.

It worked for him at least. His power had grown the more people prayed and sacrificed, some of them controllable now, particularly control of water, women, and battle. He could manipulate water well, making it do his bidding and even heal him to some small extent though that increased each year. Women fell over themselves, and some men to his disquiet, to service him in bed or to offer marriage to him, and whores didn't even ask for payment half the time, though whether this was due to his position and good looks or to some power he was uncertain. In battle he had become unstoppable. He quickly moved from weapon to weapon, just as good with each one, and was undefeated one-on-one or sometimes even outnumbered three to one. The sword, however, remained his favorite weapon.

To his father's severe displeasure, Jon had also taking a liking to women and drink. He had a few drunken nights each week, though for some reason it took him several barrels to get drunk, and he had a different woman in his bed each night, or he in theirs, and had soon had half the castle at one point or other to many husband's displeasure. Their displeasure at sharing warred with their worship and fear of him, and the honor that he had chosen their woman as a suitable consort. Unfortunately, nothing ever came of such an affair for them but heartache and an inability to measure up to his impossible stamina, looks, or abilities and money.

Knowing it displeased his father and that it was irresponsible, Jon toned it down a bit lately, though it did not stop by any means. Not that it mattered, his father had gone south to King's Landing with the King to become his Hand, the second most powerful man in the kingdoms. Robert Baratheon was a war hero, but now was a fat drunken king, and long ago he and Jon's pseudo-father had saved the kingdoms through rebellion. Now, he needed Ned Stark once more in order to keep the kingdoms, leaving his older brother Robb in charge of Winterfell as the new Lord and Warden of the North.

Before the king left however, he did his friend one favor and legitimized Jon. Now Jon was no longer Jon Snow, he was Jon Stark, second in line for the titles and land, and now that he was a man he was technically a lord. The only person hesitant about this was Lady Catelyn, but she took it in stride, merely telling him he would now be responsible for helping Robb while Lord Stark was away. She had been much more civil to him in recent years, especially after the "incident". Right before the king left, his brother Bran had fallen from the broken tower. The broken tower was on the right-hand side of Winterfell's gates. Bran's back had been broken, along with his legs. Somehow, in a moment of panic while helping bathe his brother, Jon had managed to heal most of the wounds, though heavy scarring remained, and his brother was in a coma, not awakening for some reason though Maester Luwin claimed it was trauma.

It was at this moment, when his brother Robb came bursting into his room without knocking, that he knew things were about to change. His breath stopped and his blood ran cold at his brother's words; a raven message clutched in his hand.

"It's father…" Robb said quietly before mustering up the courage to continue. "He's been taken prisoner by Cersei Lannister, and the king is dead."