Disclaimer: Because I completely forgot to do this four chapters ago...woops. I own nothing except the OC's that are not just namesakes from other franchises. So whoever runs this site, don't remove this just because the disclaimer is late, ok?

Chapter 1

Iron Brought, Snow No More

Preytan Blacktyde was a Raider. Not as notorious as the likes of Euron Greyjoy but he was just as fierce and ambitious. Before this rebellion of theirs began he had worked his crews to the bone, making them into smart and fearsome men of the Iron Islands. Perfect for what lay ahead. When the orders came to pillage the western shores of Westeros, Preytan had a better idea in mind.

While their kin laid waste to the coast, taking what was owed to them through the Iron Price, Preytan led his crew deeper still into the heart of the land. There they came upon what he would need. Fresh meat. Boys no older than five summers, all huddled together for safety. Left without protection.

Bastards every one of them.

His crew dragged them back, kicking and screaming; they gutted the few that were unruly. The rest fell in line after. With fresh recruits in hand, they cast off. Let the rest of the Ironborn raid Westeros. Preytan had a bigger score to claim.

"Alright lads," he says on the deck of his flagship. Crew awaiting the big reveal he had been hinting at as they sailed past the Westerlands "You all have been a patient lot aye? I bet you are all frothing at the mouth, ready to strike and claim the ultimate bounty."

There was a resounding cheer. Thunderous applause of feet stomping down on the wooden deck.

"That's the spirit! Now…we are not going to be whistling our time raiding lands like Westeros or Essos, no! We are going south…far south to lands not yet claimed by any of our kin or our ancestors."

"What sort of lands are down there?" One of the crew asked.

Preytan throws his head back and laughs "A land something strange. I have in my cabin a map I 'acquired' from a rather chatty trader from this very place. They call it Valisthea; a land not unlike our own but a land that knows not who the Ironborn are. A land just waiting to be claimed by us!"

The men all cheered again.

"It'll be a few days sailing lads, so we'll be stopping in the Reach for supplies." Preytan grins, crooked teeth on display "Nothing that'll whimper and whine, only food and drink boys; bring it back and we can get those riches sooner!"

With his crew eagerly going about their tasks with renewed vigor, Preytan smiles. This would go down in history as the greatest act of any Ironborn. No one would be able to claim otherwise.

Down below deck, doing his best to remain strong for the younger boys was a boy of five years old. Dark black hair and grey eyes that almost looked blue; Jon Snow was the Bastard of Winterfell, and right now he was a prisoner of the Ironborn. It had been an issue between his father and his Lady Catelyn Stark; Jon did not wish to go but Ned Stark had somehow convinced his lady wife to take the boy along to see one of their vassal lords for a celebration. Ned didn't know it but this decision of his would have repercussions for many years to follow.

The last thing Jon would remember of his family would be Lady Stark fleeing with her son Robb by her side along with the family guard while Jon was ushered to a simple farmhouse with the other bastards. For many days he would live day by day, being given a small portion of bread and water, sacrificing parts of his portion for the smaller boys to have. The Ironborn were not without some sense. The boys were given wooden swords, taught how to fight, and praised if they did well enough.

Jon was a natural with a sword. He tried to lose often, but the captain never let him accept defeat. In fact, he praised his abilities and gave him more food as a reward. But with every day that passed a weight settled within him. Dread began to overtake him on that final day at sea. When land was sighted in the distance and the crew became restless.

A few of the boys hadn't survived the journey, being tossed overboard when they had passed. Jon tried not to think about it. The rocking of the waves against the ship, the sounds of the boys whimpering as they starved or succumbed to their injuries…it kept the boy up at night.

"Make ready lads!" The captain shouts overhead "This is what we have been sailing towards, for the Ironborn!"

There was a cheer. A collection of voices Jon could not distinguish from any other and yet he knew that he hated every one of them. The boys around him curled up on themselves, appearing far smaller than they were. Jon heard footsteps approaching. The door to their cramped cell opened as two of the Ironborn smiled down at them.

"Alright bastards, time to earn your keep!" The leader stepped forward, lifting one boy of four years up roughly before ushering him out the door "Come on boys! Up you get, I said get up ya mangy dogs!"

Jon watched as he kicked a boy who broke an arm in training. The cry of pain got him to his feet, eyes set on the man before him. The others took this as their cue, slowly standing up and doing as they were told. The boy who was kicked wasn't so fortunate. The other man picked him up, checking his body for injuries before shaking his head.

"Not this one, the boy has a broken arm."

"Toss it overboard then like the rest, Captain has no need for a broken tool."

None of the boys, not even Jon, flinched as the boy cried out as they carried him to the top deck. Jon will not forget this. He owed it to these boys, those still alive and those they had lost along the way, to remember. As they were ushered up the stairs Jon shot one last glare at the Ironborn as he passed. His time would come.

As the ship came ashore, burying itself in the sands of the beach, Preytan gave a cheer of his own. His raiders matched him, jumping from the ship with savage glee. Jon and the boys were not so fortunate as to be left to man the ship. They found themselves pushed to the front, daggers thrust into their hands and oversized helmets on their heads. A few of them had to lift the helms just so they could see forward.

"Listen here boys," Preytan began "You all have a very special job to do. You lot are going to earn your keep, up that hill ahead of us is a town…you lot are going to go up there and be the first to pillage it. Do a good job, you'll become raiders in my crew, now how's that sound?"

The boys didn't look too eager, they all just shuffled in place.

"I said…how's that sound!?"

The young ones, startled by the outburst, ran forward. Jon watched as a few nearly tripped over themselves in their mad rush to get to town. He was in no rush. As the boys crested the hill and saw the town before them, they all felt a small flicker of hope inside. People. Real people who were nothing like the Ironborn raiders that brought them here. The townspeople were unprepared for the sudden arrival of a small band of children donning iron helmets too big for their little heads and wielding daggers hardly fit to cut a slab of meat. It was what followed that truly caught them off guard.

Jon hit the dirt as the raiders charged past him, cheering, hollering as they descended upon the town. He stayed down, hearing the screams as the pillaging began. Preytan and a few of his men sauntered past, not even so much as glancing at the young boy on the ground.

"There it is boys, if the map is accurate this is just a small sample of the riches that Rosaria has to offer us." He turns, jerking his head towards the town "Go on lads, have some fun!"

The men cheer, rushing forward at their captains' orders. This would be a greater success than any raid they could have done back in Westeros. Valisthea would remember this as the day the Ironborn laid waste to their peaceful coasts and drained their coffers of every piece of gold they had.

Jon slowly stood up, watching Preytan descend upon the town himself. Ironborn raiders broke into homes, killing the men and boys too old to break; women and girls dragged screaming to the ground. He held the dagger in his hand tightly. Jon couldn't do what his father would have done, said they should have done to these raiders. No. He was a boy of five armed with a full blade not fit to stab so much as a piece of roast duck. What he did do however was follow Preytan along the streets until he found a home he liked.

"Mind if I come and sample the wares?" He asks with a laugh, a young girl only a few years older than Jon screamed as the Ironborn captain hoisted her up and dragged her off in search of a bed. Never noticing the pair of little feet that stumbled in after him.

"I'm going to enjoy this; you should be a happy girl; you are going to grace this land with the first of many Blacktyde Bastards!" He threw his head back and laughed. The girl struggled beneath him as he held her down on the bed. "Now quit your squirming! You don't want to upset me now do you?!"

There was just a faint creak in the wooden floor planks as Jon stepped into the room. Preytan didn't even notice. So engrossed in what he was about to do the older man didn't even consider someone would get the drop on him. That one of those kids he had captured would have the brains required to think ahead, to grab a knife from the kitchen and creep up after him. It never crossed his mind.

Preytan licked his lips as her dress slowly slid down her body. He could almost taste what awaited him as he leaned forward. There was a sharp pinching sensation in his leg. Preytan in true Ironborn fashion didn't so much as shout when he felt it. Glancing down at his legs he found the problem. Sticking out of his inner thigh on the right side was a silver knife handle. The raider grabbed the knife with a growl and pulled it free, tossing it aside immediately.

"Who dares!?" he gave a low growl, turning around to find the face of one of the brats "You? Bastard…you have made a very grave mistake in attacking me boy…I will kill you for interrupting me!"

Jon slowly stepped back, watching Preytan approach him in slow moving steps. The raider captain looked pale, and angry. As he stumbled forward his right leg gave out, blood rushing down his leg before he collapsed to the floor. The Ironborn snarled, reaching forward to grab Jon but it was too much. The blood he was losing blurred his vision, he was lightheaded, slowly fading in and out of consciousness.

"Little…bastard…" he manages to groan before his arm drops, body stilling. Both the girl on the bed and Jon stare at his body for a few moments before Jon lightly taps it with his foot.

Seeing no movement Jon gives him a swift kick to the side. No reaction. Jon doesn't move. The boy stares in a mix of shock and relief at the body of the dead captain. He doesn't react to the sounds outside in the village as the rest of the raiders go on about their pillaging. He doesn't flinch away as the girl he saved rushes in, enveloping him in a hug as she cries into his shoulder. It wasn't until the screams, the shouts, all of it died that they separated.

Jon wasn't sure how much time had passed. Minutes no doubt but how many? The pair slowly made their way downstairs and out the front door. Jon nearly flinched as he watched a knight in red and black pull his sword free of an Ironborns stomach. All around the village were similar scenes. Knights assisting the people, knights finishing off the raiders. One knight, a larger man with blonde hair strode over towards the pair. Jon, still dressed the part of a raider, braced himself for what would undoubtedly be his end when something unexpected happened.

"Stop!" The shout came from the girl he protected, who now stood protectively between him and the approaching knight. "Please, he isn't with them!"

"Step aside girl," the knight spoke softly, not unkind but with a resolute tone "He came with the raiders, he wears their markings, he is one of them for true."

She shook her head, tears building at the corners of her eyes "He isn't! He…he saved me from one. Stabbed him right in the leg, he would have…"

Watching the girl nearly curl up on herself made everyone around who was watching feel uneasy. The knight hesitated, glancing back towards a man in red seated atop a…Jon wasn't sure what it was, but it looked like a very large chicken to him. The man nodded his head. "Sir Cody, Sir Rex, verify her claims if you please."

Two knights entered the house behind Jon. The boy felt tension rolling off his body slowly as the first knight stared him down. Every second before the pair of knights returned was a second spent wondering if he would save them the trouble and collapse right here and now. When they came back, the air changed.

"She's telling the truth…there was a bloody kitchen knife and a body with a deep cut on the inner thigh," Sir Cody shook his head "The boy got his first kill, and it wasn't pretty either."

"Too much blood was lost," Sir Rex agreed. "We'll be cleaning our boots for a week, never mind cleaning up the mess left behind in there."

"Good…well boy, it looks like we owe you our own thanks for saving one of our people," Jon almost fell over in shock at being praised for a change "Tell me, who is it that saved our young friend here?"

"J-Jon Snow ser…"

"Jon Snow…odd name for these parts," the knight hums in thought "Tell me lad, where are you from?"

"The North, ser."

"The north? I did not know the north had raiding ships now," the knights stood at attention as the man in red approached "Your people have some quarrel with us lad?"

"No ser!" Jon shakes his head quickly "My father he…he treats all the king's subjects with kindness, he wants no quarrel with any of the kingdoms!"

"King?"

"King Robert Baratheon…Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. They are best friends…at least that is what father says."

The men all shared a look "There is no King Robert Baratheon in these lands child, tell me…do you know where you are now?"

Jon blinks. Attempting to mentally recall the few lessons he had with Maester Luwin. House colors, emblems, the clothing…the only house he knew of that used red and black was House Targaryen but they were all but extinct and all silver haired. He shook his head "No ser."

"You are in the Grand Duchy of Rosaria…it is only so fortunate that these raiders chose to attack a fishing village just outside of Rosalith rather than one of the more remote villages." the man gave Jon a smile he had only really seen on his father's face "For protecting one of our people, well done lad."

"Thank you, ser."

"Rodney," the blonde knight stood straighter "See to it that Jon is safely escorted to Rosalith. As thanks for your action's dear boy, I promise we will do our best to see you returned to your people safely and as swiftly as we can. You have my word."

Jon wasn't sure what this strange feeling in his chest was as Rodney, Lord Murdoch, lifted him up and placed him firmly on the saddle of one of the large chickens. Chocobos, they called them. As the pair rode off for the castle of Rosalith, Jon felt the energy he had been using to keep himself alive fade as darkness claimed him.

"Is the boy well?" Rodney had to admit he had never seen his Lord, his friend, so concerned for anyone before.

"He is fine Elwin, the healers have seen him, he is just exhausted."

Elwin felt his shoulders sag as he took a seat in his solar. The day had too many surprises. One of the guards on the walls had spotted the smoke coming from the coast. Had he not seen it they may have arrived too late to stop the fighting. "Ten of them." he mutters "Ten children Rodney…children!"

"It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Why use children at all when you have a full crew of able-bodied men."

Elwin gave Rodney a look, the exact nature of it was unclear but the way his eyes seemed hollow "We slaughtered them, Rodney. The blood of children, innocent children, is on our hands! Those savages…I heard the tales from the villagers, they just came ashore and let the children go first. Then they charged and…how did we let this happen? How did it happen?"

"I had thought that was obvious with young Jon's story." Rodney watched Elwin sit straighter in his chair, this would require him to tread lightly "The boy is a long way from home. Too far south if his words are true…and if his lands are ruled by another king then it is not the northern territories that we should be returning him to but this strange land he claims as his home."

"What would you have me do then?"

"Help the boy. Elwin, he has no family here, no kinsman. We bring him back to his people; he will be treated as a bastard!"

"You know this to be true?"

Rodney gave a solemn nod of his head "One prisoner, just the one my Lord. He told us all we needed to know. Every boy they captured was a bastard son, left by the…nobility to fend for themselves. Not one survived save for Jon. If we send him back, he will be treated no better than he was by those raiders."

Elwin didn't know what to make of that. If word of Jon's status as a bastard son from a foreign land were to get out the boy could be at the center of a riot demanding that he be cast out of the castle or worse yet be branded even with no signs of magic shown. People were fickle things, noble and peasant alike. But this was an innocent child they were talking about.

"I shall speak with Anabella about it tonight…thank you, Rodney, you have given me much to think about."

"Don't take too long," the Lord Commander advises "I know you promised to return him if you could, but if we are unable to find a navigation chart, we may never reach his homeland. Who knows how long the boy would have if left alone here."

As Rodney left, Elwin was deep in thought. Night would be drawing near, and the boy was still asleep under the watchful eyes of the healers. Being the Archduke suddenly felt more daunting a task than it ever did in the past. Elwin blew out the candle on his desk and made his exit. It was unlikely that Anabella would be completely open to what he would propose, but when was any noble ever open to this mad scheme?

"Elwin? You seem troubled, is something wrong?"

So absorbed in his thoughts of what to do about the boy he had not realized where he was. Anabella sat on their bed, a hand gently rubbing her stomach as she eyed him with concern. "It is nothing," he says hurriedly "I just…"

"Elwin?"

The Archduke sighs, a look of confliction upon his face "It's the boy."

"Jon?" she asks, "The one that saved that girl in the village?"

"Aye," Elwin slowly approaches the bed "There is the chance that we might be able to send him back to his people."

"Well, that is good is it not? You promised the boy that you would, and now you can."

"Anabella, what would you make of the boy?"

The Duchess looks contemplative as she thinks upon what she knows of the boy "He is noble, brave, certainly not the…brightest of boys, but he has heart not unlike a certain husband of mine. Where exactly is this going Elwin?"

"The boy could go home…but not as a hero."

"Then as what?"

Elwin almost looks pained as he pushes forward to speak "He would be treated as a bastard, Anabella. That boy, no older than five years of age who saved an innocent girl from a fate far worse than death…they would treat him as a bastard not fit to be in the presence of even the serving staff. He would be treated as lesser than any Bearer in the Republic or the Empire!"

Caught up in the turmoil of his dilemma Elwin takes a seat on their bed. Anabella leans over, placing a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder as he feels the weight of this burden settle and drag him down.

"If I send the boy back to his people, they will only treat him as lesser than themselves…they would curse him to a life that one such as he should not have to endure. But how can I live with myself knowing that I have willingly condemned him to that?"

"There is more, isn't there?"

"Aye…without a navigation chart we could never make it to his homeland int eh first place," Elwin gives a faint smile "A land beyond the seas, free of the Blight…no Aether, no Dominants, no Mothercrystals…it sounds so fanciful that I found it difficult to believe it at first. And yet keeping him here seems to be the less cruel of the two choices presented to me now."

"Elwin…you truly believe that this boy is noble, don't you?" Anabella questions "You believe him good enough to…to adopt him?"

"Aye, I do. I know that you would have concerns, fears, and I would put them to rest now." He turns, shifting his weight carefully as he looks her in the eye "That boy could be explained away easily enough, he bears enough resemblance that we could pass him off…but he would never take the throne. I refuse to see him, to treat him as a bastard when I know that if he were anything like those high and mighty lords in Sanbreque would have us believe…then he would not have saved that girl. You have my word, that this is not done to have an heir sooner my lady…just the desperate attempts of a noble man to do what is right for a boy cursed by chance to a life he does not deserve."

Anabella turned thoughtful, hand gently rubbing her stomach as she pondered what her husband was suggesting they should do "You are sure of this? All of it, him, us…our future?"

Elwin slowly reached over, thumb brushing gently across the top of her hand "Almost as sure as I am that we made the right decision so many years ago."

"Then how could I possibly refuse?"

"I do not understand."

Rodney had a wry smile on his face as he stood watch over his friend and liege lord Elwin as he sat beside the boy's bedside and attempted to explain to him yet again what it was that he was proposing. It seems that the mind of a child is not so easy to convince as the hearts of men at war.

"Jon…" Elwin couldn't help but smile, seeing the boy before him look so full of hope and yet still cautious of him "Sir Murdoch and I discussed this while you were recovering here, aye we have had a few days to think and plan but we cannot find a way around it. I'm sorry lad, without a proper navigation chart, a map of your lands even…we could never find our way to this Westeros."

"So…I won't be going home?"

"No, but that does not mean that you have to be without a home," Elwin exchanged a pleading look with Rodney for support. His long-time friend and sworn shield simply shook his head and motioned for him to proceed forward. The Traitor. "The Duchess and I have discussed this at length, and if you are willing…we would be more than willing to be that family which you are without."

Jon shook his head. His eyes were still red form the tears he had shed in the beginning when they said he would not be able to go home. Now dried, they were puffy and out of place with his determined gaze. "Why me? You both would accept a bastard into your home…into nobility…"

"A boy of five years, nearly six, who saved the life of an innocent girl." Elwin presses firmly "The circumstances of your birth mean nothing to any of us here. Tales of what you did have already spread and while the staff here are sworn to secrecy none would question how noble you are. Jon, we believe it to be unjust for you to be simply treated as less than human for the circumstances of your birth rather than the actions you have chosen to take."

"And I would be a Rosfield…no longer a Snow?"

"Aye," Elwin smiles as he sees the faint glimmer in the boys' eyes "You would be a Rosfield…if you wish to keep your name, any part of it you are more than free to do so but a Rosfield you would be."

Rodney was startled by the sudden shift the same as Elwin as the boy leaned back and shook his head vehemently. At first, he thought the boy was about to reject Elwin's proposal just after accepting it. But there was this look about him that corrected that line of thinking.

"I don't want to be a Snow…but can I really be your son? Be…be treated like I was not a bastard born of sin?"

Elwin frowned. That last comment wasn't something a boy of five years would think up. Someone had taught him that, said it with such authority that he believed it to be true. "There is nothing wrong with you lad. But aye, you would be treated as if you were our first-born son. We already have a story should this have happened. My wife and I are expecting our first born sometime soon, a child that by all accounts will be…special. Should anyone question you, your part in the line of succession they need but look no further than your future sibling."

"Sibling." The word hung in the air as tears began to tinge the corners of Jon's eyes. "I…I do not know what to say my lord."

"How about trying to call me 'Father' since that is what I would be to you…Jon."

There was another shake of the boy's head "Not Jon…I…I do not want to remember my life like that."

"Alright then…not Jon…but then what name would you like?"

Jon looked pensive. Rodney had to chuckle as a servant was called in minutes later carrying a book detailing the history of the Rosfield family. The poor boy was no doubt overwhelmed as he skimmed through it. His grasping of the language was not so shocking when compared to his thirst for knowledge. Elwin was bombarded with questions about members of his bloodline whose names intrigued him. But eventually one stood out to him.

"And this one?"

Elwin examined the name, several generations back from his own "Clive Rosfield, he was heralded as being a great and mighty warrior once. One of six sons he was a talented and brave knight who stood in defense of Rosaria for decades until he fell in battle against the Dominant of Odin."

"What's a Dominant?"

"A lesson for another time…but one you will have sooner than you think." Elwin chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair "Is that the name you want?"

"I want to be a great knight, to protect people…maybe this name will give me luck?"

"A fine name for a future knight of the Duchy." Elwin closes the book, handing it off to the servant who hurries from the room "Your new mother will want to see you, and very soon I suspect so will your new sibling. Are you ready, Clive?"

Rodney observes the boy, the now named Clive, as he sits up straight on the bed. The boy stood on his own two feet, bowing his head somewhat to Elwin. "I am ready, Father."

"I don't suppose, your grace, that it will be too difficult to convince you to allow me to train the boy?" Rodney shoots Clive a smirk "After all, it would be improper for a son of Rosaria to not be skilled with a weapon. Nor would a future knight be made without some training prior to his knighthood."

AN: I am a horrible person, I know, I know. What are we at now? 3 stories at once? Multiple? Idk. Do I care? Absolutely not because these ideas have been bouncing in my head for months. So FFXVI is out, it is good, and I have too many questions and ideas brimming. As of this chapter a few things should be known. Firstly, I did the authors note purely after getting past the halfway point of the game…according to my PS5 65% of the way through. So I do know who is dead and who is alive as well as the true enemy etc. Secondly; I began writing this before the launch of the game and will continue its plot accordingly which means….a lot of what I have seen thus far or has been hinted at in game is not happening. Far as ages and events on the GoT side goes, a lot of it has been pushed back or up a few years. Characters are older, major plot events that are still happening will be much later than canon obviously. And again: Nothing is certain when I am the writer, so do not grow too attached alright?