296 AC
It was an endless darkness, so dark it was as though the shadows themselves had shrouded my vision, no matter where I looked I could not see a thing. Was I even awake, if I was were my eyes open or had septa Catelyn's precious seven seen it fit to steal my vision for committing the crime of being born a sinful bastard. No it can't be that, those Andal cunts are as imaginary as her dreams of making Sansa a queen. If I have not lost my vision, then where am I? why is there no light?
I tried to move but I had no control of my limbs, yet they did not feel restrained but rather I had not felt so relaxed almost as if I was floating in the darkness. Without warning, the darkness began to unravel as a fleck of light grew, no it wasn't growing, it was moving closer towards me at a speed I couldn't begin to fathom. The fleck of light was no longer a fleck as it began to unfurl the closer it drew to me, it was more akin to a spear. At this point I began to feel fear, what is happening, old gods I'm going mad aren't I? that must be the only explanation. I tried to move but I still had no control of my limbs and before I could try once more the spear of light struck me and a searing pain erupted in my chest the pain subsided and it was no longer so dark.
I was glad to know I was not blind but I didn't know if this was worse as wherever I looked there was piles upon piles of snow but I felt no cold, and to my great relief I could finally feel my limbs. Before I could thank the old gods for the small mercy or once again wonder what was happening, I felt like I was being watched and I turned to see a vast and endless stream of creatures with the most hauntingly icy blue eyes stood almost in formation as a creature like no other strode towards me, his gaunt face impassive yet his eyes had a glint of humour in them and what looked like a crown adorning his head, no not a crown rather it was horns protruding from his skull, almost mimicking a crown. He stood before me within arm's reach, I wanted to scream yet it seemed the old gods had taken away my voice in return for my limbs but it was for naught for the fear I felt kept me frozen to the spot.
The creature continued to stare at me, the glint of humour in his unnatural eyes growing and he uttered but one word "pathetic" the fear I held previously morphed to pure rage, what right did this cunt have to judge me, who was he to call me pathetic? I'll show him pathetic! The creature began to laugh as if he could read my thoughts and found them humorous waving his hand in a nonchalant manner only further enraging me but before I could teach him a lesson the very land itself began to shake, the army of creatures began to shimmer before disappearing from existence and what was once a snowy terrain was no longer there.
Once more I was in an unfamiliar place, yet there was an almost indescribable feeling of belonging, a feeling of home. As I began to take in my surroundings I noticed that I was in some kind of cave, the air had a burnt tinge to it, the cavernous walls seemingly blackened by some sort of fire but what flame could be strong enough to do so. I felt the urge to walk deeper into the foreign cave and the further I descended into the darkness, equal parts dread and what could only be described as pure glee flowed within me. I could no longer see but the urge grew stronger and forced me to continue my journey into the never ending abyss. Where in seven hells am I and why am I not freaking out right now in fact why am I excited being in some random cave, yep there's only one explanation I've definitely gone mad.
Before I knew it my body was once again rendered immobile and that's when it happened, two green orbs appeared in front of me, the orbs reminded me of the eyes of a reptile but no reptile had such powerful eyes. The green eyes had a wildness to them an almost draconic likeness. It was queer to see a pair of eyes glowing in the dark studying me but there was a familiarity to them and before I knew it a wave of fire rushed in the cave, washing over me forcing me to close my eyes on instinct but I didn't feel no pain only relief like a piece of me that had been stolen was finally returned. As the world around me faded away I heard it, an otherworldly voice spoke, "Aderī issa kosh ao jāhor sagon hae mēre se vys jāhor gō ao. Tolvie vala, ābra se riñnykeā rȳbagon aōha vāedar, se vāedar hen suvion se perzys bisa nyke kivio ao hāeda zaldrīzes."
As soon as I opened my eyes I was once more in an unfamiliar place but instead of snow or darkness, there was nothing but a hazy light and a heart tree with the strangest raven perched on a branch for instead of the usual two eyes it had a third eye that seemed to hold intelligence beyond that of a mere animal. From the distance I could see what looked like woman walk towards me, I couldn't make out any features but deep in my soul I knew this woman. She stood before me as nothing more than a blur, her hands seemed to be trembling as she raised them to stroke my cheek "I love you my son" the woman croaked out. Was this my mother? I tried to speak yet my tongue was numb, I tried to reach out for her but she had vanished in a swirl of light and all that remained in her place was a winter rose. Nooo… come back, please mother come back take me with you.
I could not help but fall to my knees in agony, the tears began to flow from my eyes, please mother come back. I turned towards the raven only for it to cock its head to the left before it seemed to meld within the shadows leaving me in solitude with the heart tree. Perhaps if I make a prayer to the old gods they will give me back my mother, but before I could begin the blood red sap began to leak uncontrollably from the eyes of the heart tree almost like it was crying. I tried to take a step back only to bump into someone and as I turned I came face to face with the icy creature once more only for him grab me by the neck and lift me of the ground as if I was weightless. His touch so cold it felt like I had been submerged in a bath of ice, his unnatural blue eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he threw me to the ground only to unveil a blade made of ice and quicker than I could see I felt the blade pierce my chest over and over. At first I felt nothing, only for a burning pain to explode from within my torso, I tried to breathe but all I could do was try not to choke on the blood I was coughing up. As I slowly bled to my death the ethereal voice returned "only death can pay for life" and the fight left me as I finally closed my eyes in acceptance.
Jon awoke in a frenzy, the dreams had been getting more and more vivid as of late and they all ended with some blue eyed creature killing him. I really need to stop paying attention to Old Nans tales otherwise I'll become as mad as her and never have a peaceful sleep. Thinking of Old Nan put a smile on Jon's face, she was one of the few people in Winterfell who didn't look at him like he was the scourge of the Gods and treated him like he was a true-born Stark. It was one of the reasons he loved her, even though he knew he could never be a true Stark it never stopped her from loving him the same as his true-born siblings.
The same could not be said of Lady Stark and the retinue that arrived with her from the Riverlands after her marriage to Lord Stark, those southern cunts hated him with every fibre of their being so much so that not a day went by without some form of insult being thrown his way. He wanted nothing more than to take his blade and cut every single one of the andals down but he still remembered his punishment from the last time he beat one of the guards unconscious after the cunt proceeded to call his mother a whore. He remembered feeling an inhuman rage build as everything went hazy in a red blur, by the time he had regained his normal vision the same guard was a broken and bloody mess. Lady Catelyn had wanted him to be sent off to the wall for what he did and it was the first time he could see disappointment in his fathers eyes, but that only seemed to make him angrier as he lashed out like a mad wolf when his father asked him why he did what he did.
Lady Stark would always call him an unruly bastard that needed to be taught how to defer to his betters, as if any of those soppy southern cunts were better than him simply because their parents decided to fuck after some imaginary backwater deities blessed their union. He snorted in amusement as he remembered the time he told Lady Catelyn his thoughts in front of the entirety of the Northern Lords as they came to celebrate the harvest feast only two moons past and how she screamed bloody murder at his audacity to insult her Gods and what she called the sanctity of a holy union. His father could only shake his head at him in disappointment and try his best to placate his hysterical wife, but Jon knew many of the northerners agreed with him for some even had the nerve to openly laugh and Lord Umber even proclaimed how the Andal Gods were too stuffy for their own good causing Lady Catelyn to shoot the man a glare that was usually reserved only for him. In his defence, she started the whole thing claiming that as a bastard he had no right to celebrate with the trueborn heirs of the North and that it would shame house Stark allowing a lowborn illegitimate son to converse freely amongst his betters, but he knew the truth was that the paranoid trout was merely terrified that he'd ingratiate himself with the nobles and gain their support to steal Winterfell.
There was a time when he would have wanted nothing more than to be a trueborn Stark and be the heir to the north, but as he began to grow up he couldn't care less about having a name or a birth right. There were two things he wanted more than anything, the first was to know about his mother but with his father's constant refusal to speak on the matter not even telling him her name whether out of shame or something else he couldn't quite discern. Thus Jon came to the conclusion his father would never tell him who she was despite him constantly promising he would one day, honourable my ass, the man had a bastard he brought back with him to live with his wife and trueborn children, allowed that same woman to treat me like some stain even though he is the one who broke his vows. As a result, Jon decided that since he couldn't have the first he would have his second wish, which was to travel across the narrow sea so he could explore the world to his heart's content and nobody could stop him since he was a bastard with nothing to keep him tied down in the name of duty.
Jon knew in order to make his dream a reality he needed to be prepared as much as possible in both matters of combat as well as having the knowledge to survive on the eastern continent. This meant he had to learn the plethora of foreign languages that were in use across the narrow sea as well as the multitude of customs and traditions of each city. He had already begun to learn as much as possible under the tutelage of maester Luwin having become fluent in High Valyrian and Braavosi, which was a bastardised form of the original High Valyrian. He couldn't explain it but for some reason the language came to him almost as easily as the common tongue to the maester's disbelief. Lord Stark looked almost frightened when he was informed of his affinity for the language and didn't even congratulate or even acknowledge him on his achievement, which seriously hurt the young boy and judging by the look on his father's face he decided he was right not to mention the weird dreams he had been having for the past year.
This only further motivated him to increase his academic endeavours and he excelled in everything he was taught whether it was economics, history, geography even the rudimentary form of medicine he had begun to study. However, his father would always have a look of pride on his face when he excelled in the traditional subjects but his eyes always held a solemn sadness in them. The funniest reactions had to belong to Lady Catelyn and Septa Mordane as they kept spouting to any who would listen that I was using foul sorcery to succeed like being a bastard meant I can't have a competent mind.
As much as he loved studying there was nothing Jon loved more than having his sword in hand and feeling the rush of blood whenever there was a fight to be had. Lord Stark always said he was full of the wolfsblood like his brother and sister with a sad smile, but always warning me to keep it under control because of the dire consequences that usually occur once it's been unleashed. As usual, Jon didn't listen and would act before thinking, his impulses too strong to control especially regarding Lady Catelyn and her prejudiced thoughts which would only increase the animosity between them, the harvest feast an amusing reminder whenever he wanted a good chuckle.
Ahh no point in ruining my day thinking about her, It was a warm summers day, well as warm as you could get in the unforgiving north with the sky a clear grey and no snowfall. The perfect conditions for sparring but first he needed to change and make it to the yard as quick as possible given he was already running late. Sporting his usual outfit consisting of only black clothing he sprinted his way to the yard to see the old master-at-arms Ser Rodrik shouting instructions to various men in the midst of a training session. "Decided to finally turn up have you Jon" spoke the gruff northerner, a twinkle in his eyes. "Well at least you're still here before Lord Robb and the Greyjoy, but I don't appreciate tardiness so I want you to do twenty laps of the yard lad." Jon couldn't help but let out a groan at the strenuous task when he could be sparring instead, " stop dallying boy we haven't got all day!" thundered the old knight in response to his childish behaviour.
By the time he was done he had been reduced to a sweaty mess and it took all his willpower to not fall into a heap no matter how tantalising the ground looked. His legs ached but he shrugged away the feeling of fatigue by stretching all his muscles before Ser Rodrik directed him to the armoury so he could be outfitted with leather armour in order to practice his forms against the straw dummies towards the edge of the yard. For every movement he performed with his orthodox stance he replicated with his left hand, his swings just as smooth and natural. He could see a small smile forming beneath the bushy whiskers of his instructor before it was suddenly gone, the reason for it was explained not even a moment later as Robb and Theon both entered the yard laughing like there was no tomorrow.
Once upon a time he and Robb were as close as brothers could be, always joined at the hip no matter the occasion or where they were but ever since his father returned from the Greyjoy rebellion with the kraken cunt as a hostage they had slowly drifted apart. Robb was still his best friend and he was proud to call him brother, however with Theon's arrival a few years ago Robb split his attention between the both of them. As annoyed as he was, he couldn't begrudge his brother befriending other true born heirs even if he was a smug, self-entitled squid.
Jon decided to take a break to drink some water and recover after completing the instructions he was given, not to mention he was looking forward to the both of them receive their punishments for being even later than him. Ser Rodrik began to give his signature tongue lashings to the both of them as Robb looked down in shame whilst as usual the squid ignored the man's reprimands so he could level a glare towards where I was sat. it seemed he wasn't as discreet as he thought he was for Ser Rodrik only rebuked him even more which finally seemed to get to him as he averted his eyes in embarrassment. Truly what was better than seeing the arrogant brat be humbled he mused to himself as he watched them be handed the punishment of thirty laps and the promise of Lord Stark being told of their behaviour making his brother feel even more shame.
As they carried out their punishment, he decided he had rested enough and began to practice his forms once more but this time he would wield a sword in each hand to mimic the motions in the real time. With each slash and stab, Jon lost himself in the moment as the swords merely felt like an extension of his arms whilst he destroyed the dummy with ease. Unbeknownst to him, the whole yard had stopped to watch him, many with shock at how deadly the young bastard looked dual wielding, in their minds he was nothing more than a whirlwind of swords.
"Look Robb the bastard fancies himself a warrior" mocked the Greyjoy as he heaved in deep breaths after the gruelling punishment. The remark brought Jon out of his frenzy as he noticed that once again Robb didn't defend him but kept quiet preferring to stay neutral. "Well at least I can actually swing a sword with competence little squid, mayhaps you should stick to archery considering I've put you in the dirt so much but then again I'm not surprised since the iron born aren't exactly known for their swordsmanship" I retorted. Anger could be seen on his face as the men in the yard laughed at his expense before he smirked my way, "big words for a motherless bastard, where is your mother snow?" he taunted as a deafening silence fell over the yard. "Mayhaps I'll pay the whore a visit in the brothel later."
The familiar feeling of rage swept through him as the hostage insulted his mother and without thinking he rushed towards him, tackling him to the ground as he intended to pay the insults directed at his mother back in blood. Before he could begin pummelling the worthless sack of shit, he felt a pair of arms wrap him in a bear hug and stop him from exacting vengeance. "Enough of these petty squabbles!" Boomed the loud voice of Ser Rodrik, "you two go to the armoury and prepare for today's sparring" he ordered. "Why did you stop me? He dared to insult my mother so grievously he deserved the beating I was going to give him!" Jon screamed as the rush of wolfsblood pumped through him. "Watch your tone boy, I stopped you from doing something you'd regret and be harshly punished for" coldly replied the master at arms, "besides you'll get your chance for revenge when he returns."
Many of the men gave the young bastard looks of sympathy or understanding, whilst a handful that came as Lady Starks retinue only sneered and muttered about the savage bastard daring to attack his betters. The combination of both only further enraged the boy and he decided to use it as fuel for when the sparring began. Soon enough both of them returned fully armoured with Theon adorning a smirk on his ugly face whereas Robb couldn't even look Jon in the eyes, a sign that he was feeling guilty about what Theon said but it didn't matter to him, he was going to make the rotten squid regret his words.
"Right, first Lord Robb you will spar with Jon and the winner will face Theon soon after, the spar will only end with a yield" directed Ser Rodrik. They both nodded in anticipation and moved to get into place as people began to cheer meanwhile various other people who worked around the castle started to enter the yard, no doubt to watch their future liege show off his martial skills. Jon could see Robb shoot him a look of apology but he couldn't care less at the moment, they were supposed to be brothers and yet he failed to defend him again. Usually he would let their spars to appear to be close, even allowing Robb to win sometimes so he didn't damage his brothers confidence, but his apathy when it came to Theon's insults towards him was grating on his nerves and had been for a while now, he couldn't care less for his brothers ego in the moment.
Suddenly, the cheering stopped as people looked up to the balcony that oversaw the yard with looks of deference as Lord and Lady Stark had arrived to watch them spar. His father gave them both looks of pride with a warm smile, whilst Lady Stark alternated between beaming at Robb or shooting him a withering glare. He decided to forego the use of a shield and got into a more aggressive stance rather than his usual defensive style as he firmly gripped both wooden swords with confidence, twirling them in tandem causing confusion to dance across Robbs face at the peculiar sight. Many of those in attendance whispered in confusion at what they were seeing as he looked at ease with both blades in hand.
They were instructed to begin and Jon charged at his brother, swinging his right sword to which Robb blocked with his shield, retaliating with a slash of his own, forcing him to parry the strike. Jon heard Theon laugh and exchange coin with one of the guards, no doubt betting against him, well it seems he's going to lose more than just his blood today. Jon feinted a wild slash with his left arm as Robb brought up his shield to block once more, only for it to never arrive as Jon quickly spun to the right and in the same motion landed a solid hit against his shoulder, judging by the wince on his face it no doubt hurt. Gasps emerged from all around as they couldn't believe he would actually land a hit against his trueborn brother, therefore he was going to put on a show. Jon probed and prodded his brothers defence, peppering him with strikes every time he was too slow to block or parry and before he knew it his brother dropped his shield whether it was due to fatigue or pain did not matter to him as he locked Robbs sword in between his own and pulled it out of his grasp. As the blade fell to the ground, Jon brought up his right sword and held it to his chest waiting for those precious words, "I yield" Robb uttered with dejection.
"Pick up your sword Greyjoy, its your turn" Jon growled out, not bothering to even shake his brothers hand or even acknowledge him. Theon only scoffed in response but the apprehension in his eyes was visible for all to see and this only made Jon even more eager for what was to come. As soon as Ser Rodrik gave them permission to begin, Jon wasted no time in pressing onto the front foot to continue fighting in his aggressive style like the bout before. He caught the Greyjoy off guard with the same feint and spin used against Robb, but this time he did it with the intent to hurt. Theon could only curse in response before he acted on his own anger and began to swing his sword like a madman trying to repay the favour but he was too slow as Jon didn't bother parrying any of the strikes, rather he evaded and respond with a strike of his own. The rush of the wolfsblood coursed through him as he felt himself move faster than ever, every strike felt empowered and he did not slow down once almost as if he had an endless energy reserve. He was a whirlwind of swords as every strike began to find its mark without any reply. Every hit bringing him great joy as Theon struggled to defend with the speed and fluidity with which he fought, "apologise for your words little squid and I might consider showing mercy" Jon icily declared.
The words seemed to snap something within the Ironborn as he snarled before recklessly swinging his sword overhand with a loud grunt in an attempt to finally land a hit probably thinking he could cleave Jon in half even though they were using wooden blades. Jon couldn't help it as a grin formed on his face as the idiot had fallen into his trap, as Theon brought down his sword, Jon sidestepped him and brought his own sword up in a flash striking him against the face drawing blood. The fool had decided against using a helm and it had cost him, it was obvious he was stunned as his sword arm dropped to his side, deciding not to waste such a glorious opportunity he aimed a flurry of strikes to his torso before forcing him to a knee with a slash to the back of his leg. Now to finish in style, Jon sent a flying knee to his face as he felt his nose crack on impact and the sheer power behind it caused the bigger lad to fall flat on to his back. Blood began to flow out his nose and tears from his eyes, before he knew it a sword was placed at his neck as he looked up he saw harsh purple eyes staring back at him.
"I offered you mercy, if only you were able to swallow your proud but you didn't…so now I want to hear you speak the words" Jon snarled at his humbled foe. "I..I yield" Theon could only stutter in fear. As Jon took a step back, he felt the stares of everyone directed at him with emotions varying from awe to disbelief, even those that hated his guts couldn't help but shiver in fear at the clinic the young bastard put up against a much bigger and older opponent. He looked up to the balcony to see his fathers reaction and saw disapproval in those grey eyes at his seemingly dishonourable knee directed at a grounded opponent but right now he couldn't care less. Lady Catelyn's visage was filled with fury and whispered furiously to her husband, no doubt wanting him punished at the fact he beat Robb with such ease and then utterly destroyed Theon, he levelled her with a fiery glare as she turned to him causing her to flinch at the fury in those dark orbs.
Jon remembered every time she would insult his mother and without thinking he continued glaring at her and spoke, "next time anyone wishes to insult my mother, they will suffer a much worse fate than him" he pointed to the bloody mess Theon had become as Ser Rodrik went to help him up. Before anyone could even move or speak to him, he walked out of the yard to seek the comfort of the Old Gods as he was not in the mood for his father's reprimand nor his lady wife's incessant screeching. In his rear, he could see people exchanging coin as they settled their bets and whispered about the vicious display they had seen. Some even reaffirming their belief that he was the Lady Ashara Dayne's son as surely such skill could only be reminiscent of the legendary sword of the morning and with his purple eyes it was the only logical explanation.
Jon wasn't stupid though, Lady Ashara could not be his mother as the dates wouldn't match up considering the fact he was born after the rebellion meant that the time of his conception must have been when his father was marching during the war. Many times Jon would bring this up to his father and would beg him to reveal his mothers identity but his father wouldn't say a word and would say when he is older. There were times when he wanted nothing more than to just give his father a bloody good beating but he couldn't ever truly hurt him, the man had raised him under his own roof, fed and clothed him, whilst providing him with all the trappings that usually only trueborn children were afforded.
However, this treatment only served to confuse Jon as why was he being given such a privileged upbringing, when as a baseborn he was not to inherit anything, This was part of the reason why Jon wanted to explore the world, the known and the unknown so he could mayhaps one day find a place where he belonged. As much as he loved his family, well most of them anyway, he would never be a Stark for he was a Snow, the outcast and no matter how much his father spoke of the pack he truly was a lone wolf.
"Old Gods if you are listening please there is only one thing I have ever asked of you, I beg you allow me to know of my mother" he pleaded before the heart tree. Jon kneeled in silence and waited for some sort of answer or sign but nothing came. He grunted in annoyance and whispered into the wind, "even the Gods don't deem me worthy of answers". Mayhaps it was time for him to leave and find his place in the world, even if it was leagues away across the narrow sea far from his family. He would miss his siblings, especially Arya, his fierce she-wolf but she was strong and would endure, he would miss his father too but he couldn't ever forgive the mans reluctance to give up his mothers name.
He was quick to walk away from the Godswood, determination in every footstep, not even turning back once otherwise he would have noticed the tears that fell from the face of the heart tree as it wept for him.
Valyrian translation: "soon my champion you will be united as one and the world will tremble before you. every man, woman and child shall hear your song, the promised song, the song of ice and fire this I promise you young dragon."
