An Archer's Vacation.
Jon Snow wasn't your typical six-year-old—that was something any Winterfall resident could say for sure. Ned Stark's bastard had been the complete opposite of normal ever since his father had brought him within the castle walls:
the child had never cried or thrown a tantrum. No matter how cold or dark his room was, not a single moan came from the infant, not even hunger seemed able to shake the infant.
Growing up the oddities instead of decreasing only increased: at the age of seven months the child was already walking with autonomy and fluency to the amazement of the inhabitants of the castle who had never seen him even crawl until the day before, shortly thereafter the child I even start talking.
Inevitably confrontations began between the two Stark heirs, the true born and the bastard.
The stain on Jon's birth could influence some great lords and Lady Catelyn Stark who looked at the child with disapproval. But even if forever excluded from his legacy and branded for life with the name Snow, the fact remained that Jon proved to be more and more prodigious day after day.
But what was truly amazing was that the boy seemed unaffected by the uproar caused by his actions.
The kindest and most charitable of Winterfell's servants attributed these qualities to the Stark blood that coursed in his veins. After all they claimed that the bastards used to grow faster than their real born brothers, in order to immediately face the sufferings that awaited them in their life.
The gossips instead argued that it was the curse of the bastard, that the child's mind was born wrong as a punishment from the gods against Lord Stark for breaking his vows. and that all his prodigious deeds were only the influence of pagan and wicked gods to deceive and bring to ruin the great house of the north, and that instead of blood and fire only ice flowed in the heart of the child.
As proof of this, the slanderers pointed out that on the bastard's head snow-white locks adorned the jet-black hair typical of northern lords.
But whether he was blessed or cursed, the fact remained that Jon Snow overcame every challenge and obstacle that came his way with disarming ease and a perpetual bored and tired look in those steel-gray eyes of his.
Counter Guardian Emiya was bored, sprawled over the southern ramparts watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.
His hundreds if not thousands of years in Alaya's service had weaned him from a sedentary lifestyle, slavery to the subconscious of humanity had no downtime, every second of what was practically torture had passed to plan or carry out a massacre.
Even before his descent into hell when he was still a fool wishing to become a hero of justice Emiya was not used to inactivity.
In his most idiotic days Archer was perpetually busy , every moment of his day was dedicated to the dream handed down to him by his father, helping others at the time was his mantra thanks to which the nickname of false janitor was born.
But now after finally regaining his freedom Emiya didn't know what to do, the ideals and purposes that had guided and driven him in the past were long forgotten and disowned.
The same goal that had been prefigured in the last millennia had been achieved by leaving him free not only from any chain that bound him but also from a reason to live.
To be honest Emiya had never thought about what his life would be like once he was free from Alaya's yoke, a big part of him still didn't believe he was free.
He had failed so many times that he had lost much hope of one day seeing his chains destroyed.
In his desperation he had concocted a mad plan, in order to be erased from existence and thus put an end to his suffering. It was intrinsic that if everything worked out as planned for him there would be no tomorrow.
But once again his E-grade luck had taken its toll, instead of the blissful oblivion waiting for him after his release he found himself reborn in another world.
At the thought of that day the archer found himself shivering, Emiya could say with certainty that the experience of being reborn was one of the most traumatic and disgusting of his entire existence.
The experience had been so shocking that the boy wouldn't have ruled out the possibility that it was Zelretch's doing, it wouldn't be beyond the vampire to pull such a joke on him.
The master of the second magic was famous for his twisted sense of humor and even had a certain predilection for choosing him as a victim of his misdeeds.
Archer personally believed that there was a hand of his former teacher, Rin had always had a vengeful streak in her especially towards him and was very capable of resorting to Zelretch to get what was due to him.
Whoever was to blame, the fact remained that the experience was so shocking and unexpected that it made him momentarily catatonic, leading him to make the first big mistake of this new life.
Lyanna Stark was a young woman just sixteen did not deserve to die in a lake of blood for giving it to the world. Archer was tired of blood and death he didn't want more on his conscience and on his hands.
Yet, he had had to watch helplessly as his new mother died too dazed from giving birth and adjusting to this new world and body.
To this day she wondered whether under other circumstances she would have been able to save her, another regret and failure to add to the already huge pile at her feet.
It was a wound that still burned, Archer was too old and tired to feel affection for a woman he had just met even though this might be his new mother.
But the fact remained that Lyanna Stark had given him two things in the short time they'd known each other: life and a smile.
Archer would never forget the smile on the woman's face, it was the same one Kiritsugu had had that night when he saved him from the fire , the same smile that set him on the path to becoming a hero.
That small trivial gesture in any other situation had saved and condemned him at the same time but even today after having denied all his ideals that smile had never stopped passing through his mind.
And a feverish Lyanna Stark, covered in her own blood on the brink of death after giving birth to him had smiled, joy on her face pale at the sight of her newborn child.
It had been dazzling for the second time in his very long life Emiya had found himself faced with that joy, with the hope that despite all the tragedies suffered tomorrow will be better.
Even a cold and cynical man like him could not remain impassive in the face of that radiance, so in front of that show he had promised himself to fulfill the woman's last wish: to live.
It had been a difficult choice Archer was a tired man the burdens of a bloodstained conscience weighed heavily on him, if it hadn't been for his new mother he probably would have ended this life immediately to finally get some peace.
So that day six years ago one life was lost but another was saved, but the more the days went by and the seasons followed one another the more Archer realized that there was a huge difference between surviving and living.
A promise however noble could not erase years of tiredness and discomfort so Emiya found herself dragging herself along with her every action.
The emptiness that had accompanied him in his childhood in the first periods after the fire had reappeared in this new life.
At the time, it took a dream to free him from this inertia, an ideal that would act as an engine to make him lead his existence to the fullest.
But now that engine that had propelled him through wars and blood was no longer working, the ideals that had forged him broken and disowned, leaving him like a boat at the mercy of the currents, without control or purpose.
An empty and dull life the perfect vacation for an Archer stained the red of too many innocents.
"Jon. Ser Rodrik is looking for you, training is starting"
"Jon, you promised we'd bake a cake together"
Emiya was pulled from his musings by two young voices calling to him.
Robb and Sansa Stark his new cousins, the two children stood at the foot of his perch as they awaited his appearance with the typical impatience of their age.
It was incredible how sometimes fate threw you curveballs in the form of coincidences, Archer had lived many lives and explored many worlds but still today he was surprised by certain statistical anomalies.
A striking example were his new brothers, being in reality cousins a certain similarity was natural, the similarity with his past self and that of his descendants was not.
Sansa especially was the spitting image of her youngest daughter sweet Ritsuka with her red hair and big blue eyes.
"Here I am, here I am"
"Jon come on we're already late" urge Robb
"But he promised to cook with me," Sansa whined
"Don't worry Sansa we'll make all the cakes you want once practice is over" Emiya reassures trying to calm the little girl before her eyes were opened.
"Do you promise?"
"I promise"
With a happy smile, young Miss Stark walked away, happy with her brother's promise
"You spoil her too much," Robb mumbled, clearly jealous of his sister's attention
"Come on, little brother" said Emiya starting to walk towards the parade ground
"Hey, I'm the eldest," the Stark heir yelled as he set off in pursuit of his bastard brother.
The training yard at Winterfell was a huge empty space surrounded by high walls adorned with balconies that allowed a small crowd to watch the drills of the men within. It was configured in a spartan but functional way with a few targets and dummies as the only additional equipment.
Ser Rodrick Cassel was already inside giving orders as he supervised the training of the citadel guards. The Stark weapon master was an imposing figure with a large white mustache adorning his face, though he was in his fifties he still had a reputation as a fearsome warrior and one of the best blades in all the seven kingdoms.
He had served the lords of the north for more than thirty years of which the last sixteen as a fencing instructor training countless men including the later generation Stark scions, there were few men as respected and loved as he was in all of the north.
"Finally you decided to introduce yourselves" the man's booming voice startled poor Robb who tried to hide behind his brother, the Stark heir may be the highest on the social ladder but as a six year old he was still easily impressionable finding himself so to tremble under the eyes of the master-at-arms.
"Here we are" Archer unlike his brother had faced too much to be intimidated by a bit 'of screams and a few penetrating looks.
"Well. Put on your protections and start making your blades collide, I want to see how far you've gotten with your progress" there was a mix of emotions in the man: respect for how the bastard had had the courage to answer him and annoyance for the same reason.
It was a mixed bag of emotions that seemed to be shared by most of the northern high officials especially those who followed the path of the seven.
Still scared Robb scrambles to put on his mother's specially prepared pads and grab his training sword.
Emiya was already ready with a sword in hand but no padding to protect the body, in an unfortunate mixup the preparation of his protections had been delayed leaving the bastard of winter without any defense for the exercises.
Lady Catelyn's pathetic attempts to thwart and vilify her husband's bastard could not be more pitiful and overt even if they wanted to. The sad thing is that they would have worked perfectly when turned against a normal kid who would have found himself crushed against so much animosity.
For an ancient soul like Archer's, the woman's attempts were almost amusing, even managing to elicit a half smile from him on rare occasions.
"Are you ready little brother?" Jon asked with his usual sarcastic expression on his face, the Stark heir didn't deign to answer with a yell and charged with his sword raised above his head in preparation for a deadly blow.
"Don't scream, in battle there's no shouting or talking if you have breath to waste swing your sword harder" scolded Archer as he lazily dodged Robb's sword
"Don't put your full weight into every swing this will only leave you bare"
"Use not only your arms but also your hips and hips to apply strength to your sword"
"Keep your back straight and your sword angled otherwise you risk gouging out your eye"
With each tip, Jon's blade grazed his brother as if to underline the flaws just mentioned.
It was a strange sight to see a six-year-old giving instructions to a boy of his age, all with a wisdom and tone that would make even the most seasoned of veterans envious.
The exhibition was so bizarre as to make all the other participants in the exercises stop, in the courtyard previously filled with the clash of metal now only the words of Snow resounded, giving instructions to the Stark.
It was something unheard of for a bastard who commanded his true born brother, even in the more liberal north where contempt for illegitimate children was not entirely contaminated by faith for the seven this spectacle soured the souls of some .
In the end, it was too much after seeing yet again their future lord being disarmed one of the men in the crowd snapped
"Enough bastard" the scream of Jory Cassel rent the air as he stood between the two brothers
"We were just training" the exhausted Robb tried to temper his orderly's fury not understanding in his childish naivety where all his anger stemmed from.
"Please step aside young sir" the youngest Cassel's voice was calm as his eyes kept throwing daggers at the smiling boy in front of him.
"But..." the young wolf began
"Come here boy" only to be quickly interrupted by Ser Rodrick calling him to his side
"Go, Robb" Archer exhorted his brother seeing that he still didn't move, defeated the Stark heir he moved leaving the two contenders alone in the center of the ring.
"You think you're so clever Snow, able to command those who are superior to you." I spit Jory
"Today I will teach you your place"
"Make your blade speak not your language," Emiya said simply as she got into position
"Why are they fighting?" Robb asked
"Jon was just helping me"
"Speaking when one has no skills is not only a sign of weakness but can easily lead to death," the weapon master simply replied as his eyes never left his nephew and his lord's illegitimate son.
"I do not understand"
"Jon needs to understand that no matter how skilled there is always someone better than him, otherwise his too much confidence can easily turn into arrogance and this is a bad thing you understand" this time Robb nodded while he too turned his eyes towards his Brother.
A six-year-old boy and a boy in his late teens wielding wooden swords were facing each other in the center of the ring created by the Winterfell guards who had rushed to watch the spectacle.
With a roar Jory leapt into the attack his blade slicing through the air with a shrill cry aimed at the bastard's back, the blow had so much force in him it left a nice bruise on a fully grown man what did he do to a child it was still a mystery.
And he would remain so for a long time, with a lateral step Jon dodged the first blow, and then ducked under the second. The bastard seemed to dance like a butterfly around his opponent's increasingly frantic sword thrusts.
Even before his opponent moved his sword Emiya was already moving, the former master of Saber didn't even need to use his mystical abilities to overwhelm his opponent the difference in abilities was so great that they weren't necessary.
With each missed blow Jory became angrier and slower, the scream had long since left his lips, fatigue did not allow him to waste his breath on useless things.
In the end, not even the fury was enough to propel the man who found himself collapsing to the ground, the blade abandoned his hands no longer had the strength to hold it.
Archer was in much better condition, his face streaked with sweat but otherwise unaffected, not even with the panting. Emiya admitted that being in a child's body made itself felt, if it had been in its original body Jory would not have been able to land a single blow.
"You lost" a declaration and a sword at the throat was all the attention that the child devoted to his defeated opponent, who could only look in disbelief at the bastard's blade.
"Jon is amazing," Robb bellowed excitedly with stars in his eyes as he watched his brother's victory.
"Yeah" Ser Rodrick only managed to murmur with his jaw still hanging open, he hadn't even imagined that his nephew could be defeated like this by a child.
The very thought was ridiculous even now that he had witnessed the whole process with his own eyes he could hardly believe it. In the beginning he had been ready to intervene so that the child didn't get hurt too much, things had gone completely opposite to what he had foreseen and hoped.
Instead of a defeat that taught him some humility the Snow had won a victory worthy of songs and fairy tales, which could easily have gone to anyone's head.
"Come on Rob. Sansa is waiting for us in the kitchens"
"Here I am"
Emiya doesn't even wait to be dismissed before departing, his vanquished foe left behind. No one tries to stop him still too impressed by his performance, gasps stepped aside as he passed as some glassy eyed called him Sword of the Dawn.
The kitchens of the castle were a busy place, always filled with a coming and going of people, whether they were servants and scullions working or noblemen eager for a small snack.
But even in all this confusion one corner remained quiet, no one dared mess in the corner of the bastard of Winterfell. When a five-year-old Jon Snow asked for his position in the kitchen, many laughed.
But with a stubbornness never seen before in his person, the child had not given up demonstrating a stubbornness that many remembered that of the late Lyanna Stark. Eventually, the head chef gave in and allowed the kid to have his own little space under his supervision.
Needless to say the supervision lasted little or nothing, before the hardened head chef in tears, asked the child to become his teacher not being worthy of his skills. Since then no one dared to disturb the child for fear of running into the wrath of the severe chef who did not tolerate anyone disturbing his teacher.
That corner of tranquility had become the meeting place of the Stark children, where the legitimate sons of the Lord enjoyed watching and tasting the Manichesti prepared by their half-brother.
It was during one of these meetings that the sweet Sansa had expressed the desire to learn to cook just like Jon. Thus, Chef Emiya's cooking lessons were born, much to the delight of both her sister and the head chef.
"Now that the cream has cooled, we can spread it into the dough" Archer kindly explains to little Sansa already covered in flour and with lemon cream on her lips.
As always Robb was on the sidelines enjoying the show ready to enjoy the fruits of his brothers' efforts, the young lord was not interested in cooking but only in enjoying the antics of his followers.
Hearing her half-brother's instructions, the red-haired lady set to work, with all the delicacy and skill of her age, making even more of a mess.
Her beautiful blue dress had now become a mixture of white and yellow her own hair was a mess not at all suitable for a lady but in return the smile on her face could not have been bigger.
Even at the sight of the mess made by his sister Emiya he didn't get upset, with skillful knife moves he corrected everything, his skill with the blade was a real show, the knife in his hands seemed to dance as he put the finishing touches to the cake under his eyes admired by his admirers.
"Now we just have to decorate it, what do you want to put on it?" Jon asked the smallest occupant of the room
"Wolf"
"Wolf"
Even if the question had been addressed only to his sister, Robb also answered, it was fortunate that the two had given the same answer thus avoiding useless quarrels. Archer had mediated enough of Rin and Luvia's fights already and wasn't eager to reprise the role in a fight between two small children. Even if hypothetically speaking, calming the two Stark heirs would have been much easier.
"So that he is the direwolf of the Starks"
"Young master, I have the molds for that" the head chef hastened to say, eager to show off in front of his lords.
"There's no need" I simply reply Emiya who once again took the knife in her hand, if before her skills with the blade reminded those of a dancer with dance now they were more similar to those of an artist.
The knife in his hands had turned into a brush as he drew on his pastry canvas, with unparalleled craftsmanship the sigil of the northern house took shape in the pastry even more vividly than that embroidered on the banners.
Even with the decorations ready Archer wasted no time in assembling his work and putting it in the oven, in order to satiate as soon as possible the ravenous hunger of the young wolves that surrounded him.
"How soon is it ready?" Sansa asked impatiently, the cake had just been taken out of the mold but the young princess of the Stark house couldn't wait to taste it, the heir had similar thoughts as he sniffed the air waiting for the sweet scent that would come.
"Sansa what are you doing?" the indignant scream of Catelyn Stark saved Emiya the trouble of answering the children, while the increasingly furious woman looked at the state in which her eldest daughter was reduced.
Lady Stark was a beautiful woman in her early twenties with striking red hair and seductive blue eyes, everything about her was the stereotypical image of the noblewoman.
Born Tully thought and acted as she had been taught that high class ladies did, she almost completely lacked imagination and inventiveness truly believing that everything was due to her because of her blue blood flowing through her veins.
She wasn't a bad person after all it was something that with her experience Archer could tell for sure she was just lost in her own little world, blinded by her own beliefs and illusions.
And in her vision her husband's bastard was not present, his existence a stain on her honor that she could not remove. And constantly seeing him with his children did nothing but remind him of that little obstacle that separated her from her ideal life.
Seeing the fury of the mother Robb immediately stepped forward trying to protect his brothers from the wrath of the matriarch.
"We were just cooking mother."
"Shut up Robb" the woman's voice was glacial as she silenced her firstborn
"What are you doing boy?" there was no need to ask who the woman was addressing.
"As Robb said we were cooking" Archer didn't devote more than one glance to the furious lady preferring to focus on the cooking status of the cake, this only increased Tully's anger.
A lesser person would have felt themselves flaring under the intensity of the woman's glare, to Emiya it was little more than the hiss of a ruffled kitten.
"Sansa come here" understanding the state of mind of the mother the little girl quickly ran to her side barely holding back the tears that the screams of the woman had caused him.
"How dare you involve my daughter in certain activities that are not at all suited to those of a noble lady"
"I don't see anything wrong with knowing how to cook, in fact it's a skill that could come in handy when she's looking for a husband" Like an elder trying to teach a child a lesson, Archer uses logic to cope with the sea of wrath the woman was throwing at him.
It was a tactic Tully hadn't expected, as Lady of Winterfell her word was law no one dared go against her word, for a lowly bastard to dare answer her was outrageous that same outcast being only six was unheard of.
"It could be but this refers only to a woman of humble origins certainly not to a noble lady like my Sansa look how she is reduced"
"Nothing a nice bath can't fix"
Catelyn found herself speechless, the boy seemed to have an answer for everything and worst of all he wasn't even bothering to look at her.
She should be the one to look down on him not vice versa, he was an abomination in the eyes of the people who had to be ashamed and hide from his presence not to speak to her as if she were his equal.
"Look her dress is completely ruined." the frustration was making the woman hysterical, going so far as to tug at her daughter to show her as proof.
At the sound of her sister's whining Archer finally took his eyes off the fire to direct them towards the Lady of Winterfell his steely eyes seemed to pierce the woman making her unconsciously step back half a step , only when they stopped on the frightened child did they soften.
"I'll just do another one. So please calm down, you're scaring Sansa," Emiya asked gently
"How dare you give me orders you are just a bastard, don't think you are already the master of this castle due to some success. You will not take away the place that rightfully belongs to my children" now the woman was screaming regardless of the eyes of the servants on her, paranoia had taken possession of her, making her no longer reason
"I have no desire to take the seat that belongs to my brothers" Emiya was never interested in the scepter of command, he was neither a king nor a general he just wanted to live this new life in peace ignored by the world until death would have reached
"I don't believe you all bastards wish to usurp their true born brothers"
"To be born Tully, you apply the motto of the Stark house well to yours"
Catelyn drew back scalded, understanding all too well what the boy meant. Winter is coming were the words that had guided the house of the wolf for centuries urging them to prepare for the worst that could come.
The bastard's words meant that Catelyn saw him as a threat rather than family as her good husband had asked. Family that according to the dogma of his family of origin should be in first place.
"I wonder if it's just paranoia that speaks and dictates your actions or even jealousy towards a woman you've never seen for a man you've never wanted" words that should never be spoken came out of a child's mouth that he should still be innocent in front of everyone's ears.
Lady Stark saw red a fury worthy of a Baratheon had possessed her
"HOW DARE" I yelled as he slapped the boy, Emiya saw the blow coming from a mile away and not eager to give the woman the satisfaction of hitting him he just dodged.
An embarrassing silence descended the room, what should have been a gesture of revenge for how petty and not very adult had turned into the umpteenth humiliation for Tully, who, realizing that all eyes were on her, could no longer bear the shame with which it was stained.
Then he did what seemed to him the only logical thing of that day to run away with his tail between his legs, not realizing that he was covering himself even more ridiculous in this way.
"I'll make you pay" with this last scream the story ended, finally leaving Archer to the cooking regardless of the looks he was receiving from those present.
This I think with a tired sigh the former Counter Guardian was truly a vacation worthy of him.
Finally our protagonist appears on the screen and we can witness the first changes he is making: a greater closeness with his brothers above all. Emiya isn't a normal kid like Jon in canon who feels ostracized and unworthy of his siblings because of his status. Emiya is an individual who has trod countless battlefields he cannot be suppressed so easily no matter how tired and unwilling to fight. This greater trust in him as well as the remarkable skills he is demonstrating puts Catelyn in a serious crisis who sees him even more than the canon as a threat to her children. This leads the woman to look for every possible way to repress Jon, making him do things that normally wouldn't even cross her mind. This contrast between the two causes tension and could lead to tragedy and conflict. The right holiday environment for Archer.
In the next chapter Archer will find himself dealing with the consequence of his clash with Ledy Stark as well as much more. As always, hoping that you like my work, I greet you, see you in the next chapter:
Sage or Warrior