I don't own the ASOIAF franchise

Chapter 1 – The Start

"Push Matilda, push!" The voice of a midwife was heard over the sounds of a woman in labor.

"ARGH!"

Birth isn't an easy thing even for highborn ladies in the wealthier parts of the seven kingdoms, especially for a whore at Wintertown in the north. It may be the capital of the kingdom, as well as the sit of power of house Stark, but it was a harsh place for those who don't have the luxury of built in warm springs or maesters.

The woman in the birthing bed was, well…, a whore. She worked at the single brothel in Wintertown about two or three years after she got flowered. The woman herself was not much to talk about. A pretty enough face and sizable breasts that made her popular among the patrons, but nothing too noticeable. Dark hair, brown eyes, she had the common looks of a northern woman.

"You're crowning!" The midwife yelled. "Come on, push! You're almost there!"

The midwife herself, Astrid, was a woman past her prime with her face starting to wrinkle and her hair starting to snow. She had experience with childbirth, as most of the smallfalk in Wintertown turned to her for help. This experience, however, also told her that this birth was a difficult one.

The girl was giving birth for the first time. And while healthy, she was extracting too much power for comfort. The real danger, however, was the stream of blood that came from het womanly part. She feared that the young girl may have an internal bleeding, and if that was the case then there was little she could do to help the poor lass. Ignoring that for now, she continued her duty to assist the birth.

After what felt like forever, the baby finally came out with his mother screaming like never before. Astrid quickly cut the umbilical cord and gave a small slap to the baby's bum, causing the little thing to breath and start crying for the first time.

"Congratulations dear, you have a healthy boy." Astrid finally said after cleaning the baby, checking its sex, and warping it in a towel.

As she looked at the mother, she saw that the lass was already asleep after the hard labor. Oh well, she put the baby in his mother's arms and the newly born infant began sucking milk as instinct took hold.

"The lungs of this boy, I swear that they heard him even up there at Winterfell." A woman next to her commented. "Must have taken if from his father, whoever he is. Still can't believe that the moon tea didn't work."

"It's not a fool proof solution, there is always a hit or miss." Astrid lectured before turning to face the girl, another whore at the brothel. "And do we truly have no idea about the father?"

"You know how those things are." The girl answered as she rolled her eyes. "Even if we did keep track on everyone who comes through the door, do you know how many have spilled their seed inside her in a single week?"

"Pardon me, I don't know." Astrid said sharply. "Your line of work is not my expertise."

"He seems bigger other newborns." The girl smartly decided to change the subject.

"Yes, he will be a strong lad once he grows up." Astrid agreed. She replaces the 'if' part, as too many kids don't survive till adulthood. "Not quite the size of the Umbers, but he will have enough people look up to him."

"You think he'll survive winter?" the whore asked.

"Of course." Astrid answered without hesitation. "He should be fine as long as he's fed and warm. Besides, with lord Eddard's birth a year ago, the Starks have all the necessities installed for raising a baby in winter."

"The spare." The woman disagreed. "And for their fellow lords, not for a basterd son of a whore. The starks are better overlords then most, but even they aren't generous enough to share their resources in such a way. Especially when they have a baby of their own to care for."

Astrid didn't answer, she had no counter arguments to give. Instead, she continued her duty as she valued the state of the new mother.

"Give her a week of rest on bed at least, and a month without doing… work." Astrid gave her verdict. "She had lost a lot of blood and needs a lot of water and meat. With how things look, I don't think that she would survive another birth. Heck, it's completely probable that a harsh enough insertion will open the injuries anew."

"Ooh… that could be a problem." The woman made a sour face. "A whore that can't fuck isn't a good one, the madam isn't going to like it."

"Figure it out." Astrid all but spat. "Either figure something out or release her with a good enough dowry to find a husband, the owner owns at least that much to the girls."

With her final words and her job done, Astrid left. She did all she could to make sure both mother and son survived, the rest was up to the will of the old gods.

In another life, Matilda would have gotten better after the ordeal and as she was unable to do her duties as usual, she would have been kicked out with her baby and a meager dowry. Unable to find a man willing to merry a former whore with her son, she would have been forced to leave Wintertown with her infant and search for a new place where she could start anew.

Tragedy, however, was to follow as the two were either froze to death by a blizzard, eaten alive by a pack of wolves, or being caught by bandits and having to endure unspeakable things before expiration. Or any design that the three eyed raven seen fit at the time.

This time, however, the thousand and one eyes had thousand and one different things to keep track on. And when Matilda was given the fateful choice, she had no voice to whisper fake encouragements and deceptions. With nothing else but her own mind, her meek nature shown as she decided to stay, and an arrangement was made for both her and her son.

And when the baby did manage to reach the age where his eyes changed from the blue color most infants have, it was revealed that while his left eye was brown like his mother's, his right eye was blue as the sky in a cloudless day. A fact that brought much distress to the young mother, different was bad. It goes doubly so for the smallfalk.

Her only relief came from the fact that the north, while no less superstitious, was far more excepting then the faith of the seven they worshipped in the south. She was sure that down there her baby would have been burned for being a demon spawn and she lynched for being a witch of something.

Oh people still talked, yes, but so far there were was no bullying. The fact that besides his eyes, her son was a perfect picture of how a toddler should be helped tremendously. The little girls just adored him.

Luckily, only recently reaching his first nameday, he also was far to young to understand the looks and whispers some of the people were giving him. She didn't fancy the day where her little Michael was old enough to understand reality.

There was also the nagging feeling that something wanted her baby boy dead.

There was that one time when a murder of crows suddenly flew right at her son, it was only thanks to the people nearby that she didn't suffer more then minor wounds and her son was unharmed. The crews didn't even run away when the people came, they had to kill all the birds to the last!

From that moment forwards she refused to let her son outside. There was also the incident with the lone wolf two months ago. A lone wolf managed to infiltrate into Wintertown at the wolf's hour, but instead of heading towards the butcher's shop or one of the lone cabins at the end of the settlement, it came right to the brothel.

It was only thanks to the guardsmen and huntsmen that were in the establishment at the time that the wolf was killed before hurting anyone. There was no proof, but she just knew that the beast came for her son.

And the worst thing was that she couldn't speak about it to anyone. At best, they will call her crazy. At worst, they will believe her and banish the both of them to appease the will of the old gods.

So she kept quiet. Her relief was that her little boy was growing big and healthy, and soon enough would be able to keep himself safe until help arrives. His relative size compare to other boys his age means that he has a good chance being picked as a guardsman for the Starks.

Now that may sound stupid, a life of a guardsman is after all is expected to be much more dangerous than that of the regular smallfalk of Wintertown, but she had her reasons. Her little sunshine was doomed to be in constant danger no matter what, that way he at least will have trained and armed men around him when trouble arrives.

Another, more hopeful, part of her wished that by serving the Starks, the old gods may forgive whatever transgression her little one committed in their eyes. Or at least give protection against the dark forces that seems to hunt him.

She is a woman, and not even one of noble birth. She herself has no power to make sure that her son will get that opportunity. But many of the frequent patrons are guardsmen of house Stark, with various ranks and roles. Patrons, who can make it so that her son will get were he needed to be.

She is also a whore. Which meant that while she had no say in the decisions of those above her (she barely even had a say in her own life), she has many interactions with those who do. She is meek, a coward, she'll be the first to admit it, but she didn't need to be brave to start planting the seeds for what she needed for her son's survival.

Today Winterfell celebrated the birth of Lyanna Stark, the first daughter of lord Rickard and lady Lyarra. And as always, the reveries kept the brothel well used, which was always good for business.

She of course didn't let her son outside, she still felt as if there were a thousand and one eyes watching him from the dark. She always made sure that when she couldn't be near him, someone else will. The young girls of her fellow whores where more then happy to play with the now two nameday toddler, and with little Michael starting to walk, the constant watch was always needed.

Right now, however, she was busy serving a costumer with her breasts, as well as gathering important information.

"Oh my, Sir Greg, your sword is so imposing~ Truly you're a remarkable warrior~" She flattered the man as she used her mounds to polish his sword.

Oh, the man was no knight. Heck, he wasn't even a noble in any way, just a regular run in the mill guard in the service of the Starks. He wasn't particularly good looking, nor had his "sword" (more like a pocketknife if you ask her, her breasts almost immediately covered the little thing) been very impressive. But this type of costumers were exactly the men she needed to milk information from, as they share almost the exact situation as her son.

As in smallfalk who became guards, not as little-dicked horse-faced eyesores. Her son will grow up to be a handsome man with maidens flacking him left and right, thank you very much.

"Lord Stark truly chose wisely when he made you a part of his guards, of unwisely as his wife obviously turns her gaze sideways when in the presence of a fine specimen like yourself~" She continued to appeal to his ego.

Was he about to finish? Really? Already? Was this man so pathetic, or she hit a hidden desire of his? Never mind the reason, she did her most to keep him from spilling his seed so early and keep him talking.

"They must have immediately seen your value, sir. How did you managed to get their attention, sedating a bear single handedly?"

"Oh, hardly something so impressive." He tried to sound like a modest hero, a bit too late for that. "It was merely a wolf."

"What?!"

Her blush turned true from embarrassment, in contrast to the one she faked before, as the man chuckled at her naivety.

"Ha! The look on your face! No, they have an yearly tryouts where they pick healthy enough boys and train them."

She decided that it was enough information gathering for now and continued the regular course. She will have many opportunities later, and she didn't want to look suspicious. That and she didn't feel like continuing the conversation.

By the end of the celebration her breasts and throat were sore and her purse heavier than in the morning. More importantly, she now knew that the choosing happens at the seventh month and that one can join the pool of boys by recommendation. Mainly those of fellow guardsmen, which was great.

It meant that she had time to work on her costumers to have a positive opinion of having her son at the candid pool when he's in age. Now she only needed to make sure that her son was physically fit enough to be considered an above average choice.

It was a year or so after lady Lyanna birth, and Matilda was forced to let her son come out and play with the other kids. Unfortunately, work kept her inside. She was already on thin ice because she couldn't do the main attraction of the establishment, instead being forced to use her mouth, breasts, hands and butt. It also meant that she got the cheapest prices and had to work harder to get ends meet.

It also meant that the owner had enough with her supposedly paranoia of having little Michael always near because, as she said it, 'having the boy running around annoying everyone keeps the coins in the purse'. With the threat of leaving the establishment period, she had little choice but to comply.

It was at noon's time that she heard a scream from the ground level, and not long after, her little sunshine barged into her room. Thank the gods, she and her client (another guardsman off duty) had already finished the deed and were just getting dressed. She had no will to imagine what could have happened if her son returned a few minutes earlier.

"Mommy, mommy, look what I got!" her three nameday old son shouted as he waved something in his hand.

A closer look made her blood run cold. In his hand, her baby was holding a snake. An honest to gods dead snake.

"Gods be good, where did you find it?" Her client, who she thanked the old gods wasn't angry for the invasion, asked in surprise. "I know it's nearing the spring's end, but to see a snake so far up north?"

"Jenny saw it and yelled. It was close to me, so I took it." He then waved the dead snake around before giving a sad look. "It moved a lot and I almost dropped it, so I held it stronger. Now it's not moving, I think I broke it."

"It was… next to you?" Matilda said in a low voice. Was her son nearly murdered yet again!?

"You strangled a snake, with your bare hands…" The man next to her said slowly. "How old are you again?"

"Three!" Her son said proudly while showing three fingers. "Three namedays!"

"Damn… now that's impressive." The man complimented her son. "So what are you going to do with the snake now?"

"Amm…" It seems that her son didn't think so far. After a minute or two, he handed it to her.

"..." She really didn't want to take it.

"Give it to the charm maker." The man suggested as he was starting to leave. "Tell him the story, he should make something nice out of it."

"Barely learnt to walk and already strangled a snake, wait till the boys hear about this…" He shook his head as he went.

"Go, honey." She told her son as she knelt ant warped her hands around him. "Just be sure to have someone go with you. And please, if you see another snake, just run away. For your mother's sake, ok?"

"Yes mommy, love you!" He kissed her before running away.

She let out a breath she was holding. It was dangerous, way too dangerous, but at least now with this story her son has a much bigger chance becoming a guard. But now he only needed to survive a few years. She needed to find a place that will keep him occupied, and fast.

"Thank you again for taking care of him." Matilda said to the blacksmith as she let her son inside. "Again, I'm sorry for all the trouble."

It started when the blacksmith noticed that his son of eight was suddenly finishing more chores than usual. After a week or so, he caught her son inside the smithy cleaning. After a brief questioning, her son said that the smith's son asked him to clean and do his work for him. The father then quickly found his son and punished him.

The day after, the son of the blacksmith went after her little Michael and wanted to beat him for the punishment the older boy received. But when the two fought each other at the street, it was her son who came on top and beat the older boy. Much to the astonishment of all present, a three-year gap in that age is basically impossible to reach.

When she heard about it, she went to panic, like any mother should. More than that, her son just made an enemy of the local blacksmith. If the man gives a word to the ones who select the next guardsmen, her son's chances to be chosen would decrease drastically.

Fortunately for her, the man was more than impressed with her son. 'Boys will be boys' was what he said before offering to take her son under his wing. His wife did give her the stink eye, whether because of her profession or her son, but could do little as Michael was working there and not living there.

"No problems, the boy's been way more helpful then his age would have suggested." The blacksmith, John, said. "And don't worry about it. If anything, this little rivalry will help my lazy son to put some effort. I'll make sure that the boy behaves."

"Oh, and one more thing." Matilda said as her little sunshine already went inside. "Little Michael wants to be a guard when he grows up, is it possible for you to can show him and have him work on the equipment he'll be using?"

"Aye, perhaps it's for the best." John agreed. "I'll give my son the smithy no matter what, and a guardsman of the castle will always have food and a place to sleep. Very well, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." She bowed her head and left, returning to the brothel.

This was all she could do for her son for now, at least until he may be chosen for the tryouts after his eight's nameday. So far, everything went great. Her son was healthy and strong (some may even say ridiculously so), there were no more threats of kicking her out now, and she even managed to secure an edge for her son over his pears. Heck, even the random accidents that seem to target her son stopped for now.

But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. Her son got very aware of the looks and the words other kids call him, and her for that matter. Freak, strange eye, basterd, whoreson, and it was starting to affect him. He had hard time making friends, and the ones he did make used his situation to take advantage of him (like with John's son). And the worst part was that she was powerless to stop it.

One may think that his fight with the blacksmith's son would deter other boys, but it was the opposite. It seemed that others wanted to 'prove' themselves by beating the 'invincible whoreson'. Oh, how she wanted to give them all a piece of her mind…

Usually, her son was quick to give them a beating. It seemed like the gods had blessed her son not with just a strong body, but with the instinctual knowledge of how to fight. From what she was told, her little sunshine was quick to act and used the surrounding to his advantage many times. It was only when they came in groups or there was someone much older that her son had to run.

She felt her snake-skin bracelet with her hand once again. It was from the same snake that tried to bite her son about two years ago. When her little son showed it to the charm maker, the man was so impressed that he offered to skin the snake and make something from it. he made two things, the bracelet she was now wearing, and a small charm of good luck for her son.

In contrast to her bracelet, Michael's charm contained the head of the snake which was preserved by a layer of amber. It was connected to a string which her son wore around his neck. Strangely enough, the strange incidents did seem to stop ever since her son started to wear this charm, but Matilda wasn't going to bet on it to continue.

She reached the brothel and let out another sigh. Damn it, the stress was killing her. She even barely seeing her son for an hour or two a day. They had a small window at down and a small window at twilight where she wasn't busy with a client. To add to the complication, the manager of the establishment wanted to keep all the little kids as long as possible from the brothel.

It was only in the evening that her son returned to her, a smile on his face.

"Hello sunshine, how was your day?"

"Great, mom!" Her son exclaimed happily. "Mister John said that I helped him a lot."

"That's great honey, so What did you do today?"

"I mostly held and handed him things, then cleaned after he finished." He said with an excited tone. "But mister John said that if I continue to work like I do, hell shoe me how to make chains!"

"That's great, honey!" Matilda patted his head affectionally. "Continue like that, and you'll forge swords in no time!"

The smile on her son's face was worth all the troubles. They will come through this. Her son will reach adulthood and become a guard in a safe environment, he will find a nice girl and start a steady family. She vowed in her heart that it will happen.

AN

Hi, this is something that was cooking in my head for a while, so I decided to give it a go. As you have seen, this work is rated mature because of the setting of the SOIAF universe.

Now because I know that many people will ask, no. The protagonist isn't a SI, nor is he some kind of an omnipotent being with cheat like powers. He's just a man, plain and simple. He's a peasant, he wouldn't be the smartest mastermind or the greatest warrior, but he'll try his best to survive. Like my other story DARK HELMET (check it out if you haven't already), shipping will be the sideline of the story. The protagonist is a fish that escaped the web of the three eyed raven, and now has to resist a centuries long machinations that he doesn't even know about. The story will be around that.

In any case because this story is more of a "on the whim", in contrast to the already well founded DARK HELMET, I can't promise on regular updates and the like. Really, it mostly depends on the reception this story receives.

In any case, I hope that you enjoyed reading to far and please leave a review.