Aberration

by GMB Bravo

Puppeteering every little detail for centuries is a tall order, even for one with a thousand and one eyes. Little things are bound to slip. This is a tale of one such baby, who should have died for the song of ice and fire, yet didn't. Follow his tale as he navigated through the hardships of being a smallfalk in the big game, all while bigger powers are at work.

2. The Aberration

I don't own the ASOIAF franchise

Chapter 2 – The Aberration

"Die! Die!"

"Get away from me!"

Michael ran as fast as he could, but his small feet weren't fast enough. All around him he could see and hear the murder of crows yelling at him while pecking with their beaks and scratching with their talons.

"Die! Die!" They continued to yell with the same voice.

"Leave me alone!" They never did.

He ran through the streets of Wintertown, streets that he ran many many times before. He didn't try to open the doors and the windows, he already knew that they wouldn't open. Whenever he got the chance, he would pick up a stone and throw it at the birds. Sometimes he would hear a shriek, most of the time not. In any case, he knew that it was far from enough from escaping the swarm.

"Die! Die! Die!"

He made a sharp turn at the butcher's shop, right into the ally. The birds were no longer surrounding him, but they were already gathering in a swarm and flying right towards him.

"Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!"

Michael ducked and rolled through a poorly repaired fence at the end of the ally. He heard the satisfying sound of crows hitting hard objects and stumbling atop one another, he was sure that many of the crows wouldn't be able to chase after him again.

But Michael didn't allow himself to rest. They will come after him sooner or later, and he had gain as much distance as he is able. He ran again, avoiding the main street and keeping himself to the sideways. He had learnt that the more open he is, the bigger the chance that he'll be caught.

"There! There! There!"

And he was found. He ran again as the murder grew closer. He needed to get rid of them somehow. Michael remembered that the lords use those birds for sending letters, maybe they had something in that place where they keep those mean things?

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

He had never tried to go to the castle before, he even doesn't know how it looks from inside, but he didn't have anything to lose. He ran towards the castle gates that were open and unguarded for some reason.

He got inside, no one stopped him because there were no people. There are never people. He ran through the yard, he ran through the stairs. For some reason, the gates and the doors here are all open. Where were all the crows (or was it ravens? What even is the difference?) flying to? He remembered seeing a tower when he saw the black feathered demons fly to the castle.

Having a somewhat direction, Michael continued his running. He heard the crows, but they far and weak, could the castle hold them back? It sounded like something castles do. Anyway, Michael climbed the many many stairs, why there are so many stairs?!

Finally, he reached the door, opened it, and got inside. As he closed it behind him, he finally let out a tired breath and lay on the doorframe, fatigue finally taking over. After a moment he noticed something, or rather the lack of something. It was quiet, too quiet.

He raised his head a little bit and was shocked. Before him were rows of crows, all of them looked at him. In hindsight, it was probably very stupid of him to come here.

He only managed to get up when the murder descended on him, screaming all the while.

"Bleed! Bleed! Bleed!"

They chanted as they pecked him with their beaks. Michael tried to open the door again, but the stupid thing wouldn't open. He then trashed wildly all around to get the birds off him.

"What do you want from me!?"

"Die! Die! Die!"

"What did I ever do to you!?"

"You live! You live! You live!"

He trashed and trashed until he suddenly bumped against something and lost his balance. He tried to balance himself to jot fall, but the birds pushed him out of the window.

"Fall! Fall! Fall!"

Michael screamed as he fell from the tower to the rocky ground below, the ground came ever closer as the birds laughed around him. He saw the crows circling around him with glee as the laughed.

"Die! Die! Die!"

Michael woke up with beads of sweat from the fur carpet he called bed, the sun was just breaching from the east. He breathed heavily as he looked around, making sure that he was awake and that the crows didn't follow him. To his sides, he saw that the other kids were still asleep, this time he didn't wake them up. After a few times, he learnt how to keep himself from screaming after he woke up from a nightmare.

He got up and tidied his bed, as much as one can when the bed was a washed-up carpet and started his day. Unconsciously, he felt the charm around his neck, as well as the small chain in his hand. The chain was relatively new, he made it a two or so weeks ago when mister John finally allowed him to try smithing.

The chain itself was a small palm sized chain made of iron. It was useless, it was ugly, but it was his. And judging by mister john's expression, it was an achievement for a first try. Lars, John's son, clearly failed on his try. Which made him think of the other boy.

His relationship with Lars was… something? They clearly hated each other, and constantly belittled one another. They always competed at the smithy and more times than not it was mister John's presence that stopped things from getting physical.

Michael also didn't forgive Lars for using their suppose friendship to make a servant out of him. Lars was also clearly jealous. Michael was younger than him by three years and yet better than him in the smithy, in fighting, and at everything else they tried. Even Michael could tell that it was something hard to swallow for the older boy.

That being said, they had… respect for each other? It was strange, but Lars didn't try to fight him outside of the smithy. Lars even sometimes stood by him when he faced other boys. It was hard to say what they were for each other.

Anyway, he got up and walked to the room where his mom was usually sleeping after a night of work to say a good morning, but the door was closed. Weird sounds came from inside and Michael knew that mom was busy with work.

He didn't understand what mom did exactly, but most people he met said mean things about it. He couldn't beat up the adults, but he did beat the other kids. Since then, he heard less about his mom from them.

With nothing else to do, Michael decided to go outside. There where barely people in this hour, which was better for him. The less people there are, the less he will hear things about his eyes or his mom.

Continuing the track, he had an hour or two before he needed to be at the smithy. He could just go there right now, but Lars's mom didn't like him being there more than he should. And so, he continued walking as he saw Ms. Astrid carrying a bag.

Mom introduced him to Ms. Astrid some time ago when he had a cold. Apparently, the old lady was also the one who helped mom birthing him. She was a nice lady and didn't care about his eyes, only asking once in a while if he sees in one eye better than the other. He always told her that they both are the same, which was true.

"Hi Ms. Astrid!" Michael called. "Can I help you?"

"Oh? Little Michael, how nice of you." She answered. "I don't have anything I need right now, but You're more than welcome to be a company to this old lady."

Taking the invitation, he joined her.

"So, what are you doing at an hour like this?" Michael asked. "And what's in the bag?"

"Oh, just some herbs I picked near the town, I use them for salve. But better crush them immediately, because they attract mosquitos. They do smell nice though, so I'm sure that someone can use them for perfume or something." She pondered a little. "Although the smell should still attract mosquitos, probably why it didn't work out."

"Do you always go there?" Getting up every day this early can't be easy.

"No, nothing like that." She shook her head. "Only once every few months or so, depends on how much salve I had left."

As the two continued walked, they talked about small things. Ms. Astrid asked about his work with mister John and Michael

As the two continued walked, they talked about small things. Ms. Astrid asked about his work with mister John and Michael asked about her work. She told him a lot about all the different things she does to help a sick person.

On their walk, they saw a funnily dressed man who didn't look like a man from the north. He had a colorful jacket and pants, with shoes whose tip bent upwards he had a funny hat with a blue feather and a musical instrument that Michael learnt called a lute.

"Hello mister bard." Michael greeted politely. The man in front of him, while being insistent on calling himself brad, was very polite towards him. He didn't treat Michael as a bad omen and had all those funny songs and tales.

"Ah, the little hero!" Mister bard called. "Practicing rescuing a damsel in distress?"

"Hello there." Ms. Astrid said in a tired voice. "Isn't it too early to be fooling around?"

The man inhaled sharply as he put a hand on his heart, as if he was struck there by an arrow.

"My good lady, I'm hurt, I tell you. Hurt!" He maybe said that, but his tone and hand movements showed that he was just being dramatic. "I am no fool! A bard, that's what I am. You should know not to confuse between bards, fools, clowns and jesters. For shame, lady, for shame!"

"What's the difference?" Michael asked as Ms. Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Why an excellent question, little hero!" Mister bard said in a cheerful tone. "A fool is someone who cheers others by humiliating himself, they got no talent for more. A clown is a step above, they can perform other tricks as well for the masses."

"Now jesters are like clowns, but for nobles. Which is why jesters have a bit more tricks up their sleeves." Mister bard then lowered his head and whispered loudly to their ears. "They're kind of pricks."

"The Jesters or the nobles?" Michael asked un confusion. All he got for an answer was "Yes."

"Now bards, bards are the top of the top!" The man said with conviction. "They make sure that all people, from the lowest of the smallfalk to the king himself, enjoy a large and reach verity of melodies and songs. They educate all with their tales of songs past, and can add tricks to their preference as well."

"Wow…" Michael said in amazement.

"Sounds like an exciting life." Ms. Astrid commented.

"It can be a cutthroat business." Mister bard admitted. "Ironically enough, I met a cutthroat on the way here. He got a quick reminder why my lute is made of ironwood. Got this little thing as a compensation."

The man then pulled a small dagger out of nowhere and began spinning it around his hand. Michael was pretty sure that even the guards couldn't do it.

"Can you teach me?" Michael finally asked.

"Absalutly not!" Ms. Astrid yelled. "A kid so little has no need for such things!"

"But Ms. Astrid, mister John said that I'll make my first blade today."

"Ah, nothing more fitting than forging your own blade as you forge your own legend. A start worthy of a tale from the age of heroes! A sword to protect the innocent and vanquish evil, a light against the never-ending tides of darkness!"

"It will be just a knife or something…" Michael looked down at his feet in shame.

"Any blade is an extension of its dashing hero!" The men proclaimed. "This blade shall slay dragons, mark my word!"

"You are feeling his head with delusional nonsense, stop it now before he actually listens to it!" Ms. Astrid yelled at the bard.

Mister bard ignored her and instead winked at Michael and whispered to his ear. "Come to me later, I will show you a move or two."

The man left after that, and Ms. Astrid scoffed at him as he retreated.

"Don't believe a word he says." She warned him. "He will use you as a song about a foolish boy that died in a foolish way. You should have a good life ahead of you working at the smithy, don't let greed and curiosity take it away from you."

"But aren't heroes… good?" Michael asked in confusion.

Ms. Astrid hesitated before sighing.

"Heroes are good, yes." She answered. "But they also have a hard life and often die young. You are a smalfalk, you're not supposed to run around charming princesses. Your duty is to do your role in society, the role that your lord tells you to do. Our life is already hard enough, there is no need to add suffering to it. Leave all the adventuring to the lords, those who actually have the training and the time for this nonsense."

Michael was hurt a bit, he wouldn't lie, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to upset Ms. Astrid. He did, however, promised himself that he'll visit mister bard later. Beading the older woman a farewell, he ran to the smithy.

When Michael entered the smithy, he was greeted as usual by Lars.

"Asshole."

"Jerk." Michael returned in kind.

This was their usual greeting. When they were mad, then Lars would involve Michael's parents. Michael, in return, will mention Lars's lack of skill.

"You're usually earlier." Lars stated. "What happened?"

"Walked with Ms. Astrid a bit, then we met mister bard." Michael answered. "Did you know that he offered a cutthroat on the way to Wintertown?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, showed me the knife of the cutthroat and even spun it around his head. Apparently, mister bard hit him with a lute." Michael mimicked as if he was hitting something with a lute. "Did you know it's made of ironwood?"

"Wow! I wish I will be like mister bard!" Lars said.

"No, your not." The voice of mister John was heard as the man walked from the inside of the smithy. "Now stop daydreaming and go back to work."

"Yes sir/dad!"

The two immediately got to their relative posts. Michael started gathering the materials and the equipment next to the forge as Lars manned the counter. Soon enough, people started coming. There were the usuals, people who needed their saws or other instruments fixed, nails and other smalltime wires, chains, and so on. What was special today, because men from the castle were coming for new horseshoes for the horses of the castle, it was an order that mister John had worked on for the past week.

It was midday and Michael was helping mister John at the forge by giving him the right tools when Lars called.

"The men from the castle are here for the horseshoes!"

"Right…" Mister John muttered before pausing his work and ordering Michael. "Come on, boy. Help me carry those boxes."

"Yes sir!"

Michael picked a box with both hands and went out of the forge. The size of the box didn't let him see what's in front of him, but he already knew the place well enough to walk here blind. Soon enough, he was by the counter as he heard mister John talking to someone.

"Here it is, M'lord. three hundred sets of four horseshoes."

"Very well, let me pick one for the inspection." An unknown deep and commanding voice called before Michael felt a pressure on the box, someone was browsing through the content of the box he was holding. The box was heady enough, he really didn't need someone messing with his balance.

Luckily, the weight was lifted, and Michael could hold his (still not light) box.

"See this, son?" The unknown voice once again spoke. "The size and the width of the metal at the ends?"

"Yes father." Another unknown voice spoke. This time it sounded like a voice of someone approximately Michael's age.

"Can I see too?" Another voice said, this time a little girl. By the silence, Michael figured that she was now taking a look at the horseshow.

"By the way." The deep voice spoke again, this time to mister John. "I see that you have another pair of helping hands. I thought that you had only one son, my apologies."

"Oh no, nothing like that M'lord." John answered respectfully. Strange, Michael had never seen him act like that to anyone. "He's just a friend of my son that impressed me, he's been a great help."

"Thank you… sir." Michael tried to act as if the box wasn't weighting on him.

Suddenly he felt as if someone is staring at him and turned his head to the side. He saw a little girl, about four or five namedays, staring at him. The first thing he noticed was how clean she was, especially compared to the background of the smithy. She must be living at the castle and having access to the bathes there, her mother must be a maid or something.

The next thing he noticed was her grey eyes, he had never seen someone with grey eyes before. Does she have people talking about her strange eyes like he did? In any case, he smiled at her in greeting. He would have waved his hand, but the damned box was just too heavy. He felt like his arms were going to fall off.

She smiled back at him and waved with her hand. "Hey, you have strange eyes!"

That wasn't very nice. Besides, she wasn't one to talk. Before he could say something, however, the man called her back.

"Young lady, get back here this instance!"

"Yes father!" The girl quickly ran back, her form hidden by the increasingly heavy box in his hands.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off him as someone took the box from him. Michael didn't see his face before the man turned back.

"May the old gods bless you M'lord!" John called to the back of the leaving men.

A few guards were carrying the boxes of horseshoes, among them was the box Michael carried before. Michael also got a look at the boy next to the man. He had the same hair color as the girl and was about Michael's own height and age, maybe even taller by a finger or two.

Like the man, who was very big and wide-shouldered (must be someone important from the guards), the kid's back was facing Michael. The girl was the only one to look back, giving a smile and a wave.

Michael was confused. Didn't she tried to make fun of his eyes a minute ago? Why is she acting so friendly? In any case, he waved back. It was almost instinctive. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because the girl's smile became wider.

She had turned her gaze back to the outside and disappeared as the door closed.

"Who is she?" he asked mister John, who only chuckled in return.

"Trying make friends in high places, are we?" The man shuffled Michael's head. "She's no one you should waste your time on. Although I can't say that I blame you, she seemed a very lively and nice girl."

Michael turned to Lars, who just shook his head in a 'forget about it' motion.

After that the day continues as normal. It was a few hours later, when Michael was finally at the forge, gloves at hand, and looked at the tools in his hand. In his right hand there was a hammer, its purpose clear. The other hand held a slab of metal, this is going to become the blade.

Michael sketched on the metal and on a piece of paper. Where the blade starts, where the handle base will be, and what shape the blade will have. Michael decided to make a dagger, like the one mister bard had shown him. It was about that long, and the handle started here. The shape was symmetric, it started to get thinner two fingers from the handle and the closer to the top the bigger the slop was. It was about thirty degrees from the head of the blade to the center.

With a form in mind and lines on paper to follow, Michael began his work. He put the top of the slab in the oven and waited for it to take a strong orange glow. He then put in on the anvil, took a stake and hit with the hammer along the lines quickly before the glow disappeared. Once hitting it was hard, Michael put it back to the oven to heat. From there, it was renice and repeat.

It was long, it required a lot of stamina, but in the end, Michael managed to pull a blade shaped figure out of the stab of metal. He allowed himself to rest for a minute. This step was over, and he will heat the metal again when needed.

"Good shape." Mister John apprised. "Especially for first try."

If Lars was here instead of the counter, he would have scuffed.

"Now you need to sharpen it." John said. "As it is, this thing can't cut through paper."

Michael put the blade in the oven once again, when he pulled the orange hot metal, he hit its sides with the hammer. From top to base, the blade's sides were crudely flattened. Once again, Michael pushed the blade to the oven and pulled it back. Immediately, he used the sharpening stones on the orange metal to slick the jugged hammer scars.

He did it to one side, then to the other. In the end, Michael put the blade in the water to cool down. When he pulled it back, it was perfect pristine. He could hear mister John humming in acknowledgement.

"Good, now the handle."

Michael put the two halves of the handle he prepared beforehand and put two rings on it to keep everything in place. Now, he held in his hand a complete weapon. A dagger with a two-sided handle that seemed to glow in the light the forge. Michael looked at it as if hypnotized.

"Not bad, kid." Mister John nodded. "Not bad at all, good job. You can take it, if you want."

"Really?" Michael asked excitedly. "But I don't have the money to pay for it."

"Think of it as a thank you for all you work here." Mister John answered. "Gods know that you do more than some people who actually get paid for their job. Just try not to lose it."

"Thank you!"

The work for the day had ended, and Michael wanted to show mom his new blade. Before that, however, he wanted to learn that trick mister bard did, to truly amaze mom. He also noticed that he was getting many looks from the people around, maybe he should put the dagger in his pocket instead of holding in with his hand.

He walked through the street venders who sold their wires, mostly food. Although there were a few people who sold some more valuable stuff, probably outsiders.

Michael was suddenly knocked to the ground by someone that jumped on him. By reflex, he caught the figure and rolled with it until he was on top of his assailant, handholding them in place. His face shown an angry expression as he stared down at the idiot who thought it was a good idea to attack him. If this was again one of Billy's boys than Michael swore that he'll knock out all the teeth this time!

He froze, though, when a familiar pair of grey eyes stared back at him. The girl under him was the same girl he saw at the smithy before, her terrified expression made him stop his own.

"Why did you attack me?" He interrogated her.

"It was an accident, sorry!" She yelled back. "I ran and didn't see you, ok? Now get off, I need to run!"

"You need to look were you're going" Michael said as he helped her up "Now why-"

"Get them!" A man with a bit of a belly yelled as he ordered two of his man. "Both the thief and her partner will pay!"

Hey! Don't involve him!

Without Missing a bit, he caught the girl's arm and pulled her with him as he ran. She quickly enough ran with him.

"They are getting closer!" She yelled as the two grown men chased them.

"Not for long!" Michael yelled. "After me!"

They took a turn and ended before a fence. Michael pulled a plank to the side to reveal a hole just big enough for a kid to go through.

"Get in!"

She did so and Michael went right after her. The two of them heard the man chasing after them yell in frustration and ran away, laughing all the while.

"Thank you." Sha said.

"Don't mention it. By the way, what was that all about?" Michael asked.

"I have no idea. I was just taking this." She sowed him trinket of some sort that looked like a winter rose. Just from looking at it, Michael knew that it was worth probably more then what he will own his entire life. "I don't understand why they were so mad."

"How did you pay for that? It looks like you could buy a quarter of Wintertown with this."

"Pay…?" She asked with such a honest confusion that it was concerning, as if she didn't know what it means. Sure, she's like four or five, but even if she's from the castle, she should know how trade works.

"You know, pay." He tried to explain. "It's when you give someone something for something else, usually money. You do know what money is… right?"

"I know what money is!" She yelled in indignation. "I'm not stupid!"

He decided to not comment. Instead, he thought about what they should do. Returning the thing to the owner or to any of the guards was obviously out, they will just put the two of them in the dungeons. And if he left the girl alone, she may bring him down with her when they interrogate her about him.

"Why did you even steal the thing in the first place?" He asked. "You didn't think that stealing something so important will get you in trouble?"

"I didn't steal it!" She tried to defend herself. "Dad said that he owns everything here, so It's also mine!"

"Well, unless your last name is 'Stark', you and your dad are very wrong. He probably meant the shop he's the owner of, or whatever it is he's in charge of at the castle, not the entire town. What's your name by the way, I'm Michael?" He asked her before she could argue.

"Lyanna."

"Like lady Lyanna Stark?"

"The very same!" She said with a nod and a smile as she puffed her chest. One may even think that she was Lyanna Stark. Gods, this girl has an ego.

"Well then, my lady, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?" She asked in confusion.

"I mean, by now half of the guards of Winterfell are after you, you can't just go back like nothing happened." Michael explained. "Do you want your dad to disown you and then living in the dungeons for the rest of your life?"

"He wouldn't do it!" She cried in denial. "I don't know about your dad, but mine wouldn't do it!"

"I don't have a dad, left before I was even born."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be mean!" She really was.

"It's okay, it's not like you knew." Michael shook his shoulders dismissively. "In any case, I think I have a solution. At least one that will have you lay low only for a short time instead all your life. We may need a little help of a… friend of mine. It's better If only I will talk to him though."

"Really? What is it?" Lyanna then added in confusion. "And why it that, is you friend shy or something?"

Michael smiled at her.

"Please don't hurt me!" the kid begged as he was thrown at the wall behind him. Michael put a hand on the kid's mouth, silencing him.

The kid, Greg, was part of a group of four that constantly made fun of Michael. At least they used to, before he beat all of them bloody that one time. From that point on, none of them dared to walk near him, at least without another five or so older boys. Unfortunately for Greg, the two of them were alone in this ally.

"Shhh… it's fine, I'm not here to hurt you." Michael said calmly as he slowly pulled his hands back.

"R-really?"

"Yes, unless you have anything to say about my eyes or my mother."

"No! I swear!"

"Good. Because I someone who can play along for something. Can you do it?"

"I-I think?" Greg asked in confusion. "What do you need?"

"See this bag?" Michael showed the beg in his hands. At Greg's confirmation, he continued. "I need you to take it and give it to the man on the third counter. Tell him that you saw a girl with brown hair stealing it, and that later you saw her again, chased her, and you got her to drop the bag. Got it?"

"Y-yes!"

"Good, now shoo. With a bit of luck, you may be even rewarded in the end. And remember, we didn't talk today."

"G-got it!" Greg ran away to the direction of the place where Lyanna stole that flower figurine or whatever it was.

As Michael went out of the corner he managed to corner Greg in, he met Lyanna.

"He ran fast." She commented. "What did you tell him?"

"Exactly what I told you." He lied. "He seemed to be very eager when I told him that he was helping a girl."

"Strange." Lyanna said.

And he agreed. Of course, Michael mentioned nothing about anything like that, but it was something that he felt was right to say to mislead her. He noticed that men, especially the young adults, were much more eager to do things for young women than for others. He didn't understand why though.

In any case, with the merchandise returned, the man who it belonged to had no reason to waste money to find a returned good. They probably should still stay low for a week or so until there will be something else that will make people forget about this little misadventure.

"I'm just glad that it's behind us." Michael finally said.

"Me too." Lyanna sighed. "So… What do you want to do?"

"Sorry?"

"I wasn't out of the castle before." Lyanna explained. "So what do you do here for fun?"

"I…" Michael was caught off guard. "I help at the smithy?"

"No, silly." Lyanna giggled. "I meant what games you play with your friends."

"I… Don't really have friends…" Michael suddenly felt really embarrassed. "Kids usually make fun of me because of my eyes, or the fact that I don't have a dad."

"Well, I can be your friend." She smiled as she put her hand forward. "I don't care about your dad, or your eyes. I think that they're pretty actually, the two colors are very interesting to watch."

"Thanks?" It was very strange for him. "I like your eyes too, I have never seen someone with grey eyes."

"Thanks! Dad has them, as well as my brothers."

"You have brothers?"

"Yes, three. Ben, Ned and Bran." She counted. "What about you?"

"Only son." He said plainly before changing the subject. "So how's it like in the castle?"

Lyanna and he talked about their lives, he still couldn't believe that Lyanna had an entire bedroom just for her own, with a whole bed! She also complained about the lessons she was forced to take, and how her brother were always treated differently.

"And when I try to touch a wooden sword, everyone are angry at me. Bran is already using real sword, how's that fair?!"

"You can hold mine if you want, just don't steal it." He clearly pointed at the reason why they met in the first place.

"I'm not a thief!" Lyanna yelled in indignation before noticing something. "Wait, how do you have a sword?"

She gasped. "You stole it, didn't you? Thief~ thief~, you are a thief~"

"Shut up, will you!? Someone will actually believe you!" Michael then said in a calmer tone. "And unlike you, I didn't steal it. I made it in the smithy, took me a lot of time too."

To make his point, he pulled his dagger out of his pocket and pointed it up high skyward. The blade seemed to almost glow in the weak light of dusk.

"Wow…" Lyanna looked almost enchanted by the blade. "It's beautiful!"

It was probably nothing special, not even a sword. Heck, considering that it was the first try of a kid, the dagger probably was below average. But for the two kids it was magnificent. Michael gave a few slashes and stabs for fun.

"Can I try?" Lyanna asked.

"Sure, just don't break it. Or cut me by mistake." Michael quickly added the later as the sharp blade was too close to his skin.

"Haha! I'm queen Nymeria!" Lyanna yelled with joy.

"Who is she?" Michael asked.

"Oh, a warrior queen who united and ruled all of Dorn." She said with clear admiration. "She was great!"

From there, she began telling him tales on many heroes (mostly heroines). They spent the day playing and chasing each other replaying her stories, of course his dagger stayed safely inside his pocked. It was very fun, Michael didn't remember having so much fun.

"Hey, you live at the castle, right?" Michael asked. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Do you know who's in charge of picking new recruits for the guards?"

"Hmm…" She pondered. "No, but dad surly will. Why do you ask?"

"I want to be a guardsman When I grow up, can you put a good word about me?"

"Sure, I can talk to dad." She smiled. "And after you're in the castle, we can meet all the time!"

He would really like that.

It was the sound of many men moving across the streets that brought them back to reality. Michael recognized them, they were guardsmen from Winterfell. Looking to his companion, she recognized them as well. They both quickly hid in an ally as the men passed them.

"Why are there so many guards?!" Michael whispered-yelled. "There were supposed to be less not more!"

"Here she is!" a voice suddenly yelled.

Apparently, they weren't hidden enough. Michael took Lyanna's hand and the two ran once again through the streets. They managed to shake of one set of guards, but another always took its place. They ran long enough for the both of them to get tired, Michael was basically dragging Lyanna with him now. They needed a place to hide, and fast.

He saw the same ally they used to escape the henchmen of that merchant and figured that they may as well try it again. He pulled Lyanna with him, and they managed to get through the hole just enough to escape the grabbing hands of the guards. They took a moment to catch their breath.

"That would be enough, young lady." A deep strong, and somewhat familiar, voice called in front of them.

As Michael looked up, he saw the biggest man he had ever seen towering above them with his arms crossed. On his back, there was a black sword as big as the man himself. And he looked pissed. Very, very pissed.

"You're in big trouble, girl." The man said as he looked straight at Lyanna, who made herself as small as possible in response. "Now come here so we'll decide what to do with you."

The man stepped in their direction and Michael couldn't say that his legs weren't shaking, but he also couldn't have Lyanna taken away to the dungeons.

"S-stay back!" Michael found himself stepping forward and raising his own blade in challenge. "You're not touching her!"

"Michael…" Lyanna said weakly from behind him.

The man only raised an eyebrow. For him it must have been funny, like a dire wolf seeing a pup trying to bare its teeth in challenge. The man was so above him in size, equipment and experience it wasn't even funny.

"Step aside, boy." The man said with an edge in his tone. "I wouldn't repeat myself."

"No!" Michael stood his ground. "You can be lord Stark himself for all I care, she's not coming with you!"

The mad pulled his sword and hit the ground hard with it so hard that the sword stabbed the ground a good deal. The power of the hit was strong enough to have Michael unsteady, yet he held his balance. Ignoring how terrified he was and how his limbs shook a little.

"Last warning." The man said.

The two looked at each other in challenge, although one of them had the obvious edge.

"Dad, stop!" Lyanna yelled.

"Dad?!" Michael repeated after her as his arms went down. Now he knew why he recognized the voice, it was the same voice of the man that took the horseshoes. "Oh…"

This was awkward. Michael was much less inclined to stand between the two now.

"Now enough games, little lady, your mother is worried sick." Lyanna's father. "I had to call half the guards to search for you."

"Sorry…" Lyanna said weakly.

"Now come here, daughter."

Lyanna did as she was told and walked to her father, head down. The man then turned his grey eyes to Michael.

"And what is your part in this story? Why did you run with my daughter from the guards?" The man questioned.

"I- well…" Words failed him.

"He was just playing with me!" Lyanna suddenly came to his rescue.

"Just… played?" The man looked at his daughter.

"Y-yes!" She explained. "I met him on the street , then we played all day, then the guard came running and yelling and then- then…"

The man sighed as he massaged his temples before speaking.

"I see…" He then turned to Michael. "In that case, you have my thanks for keeping my daughter safe, boy. Now let's go, Lyanna, your mother have been stressed long enough."

With that, the two left. Michael just stood there numbly all the while.

"Hahaha! Saving maidens already? You're going far, kid!"

Michael went to mister Bard and told him about his day. From the moment he started forging his blade, to the moment when he bumped into Lyanna, and to the end when her father caught them. The man found the entire story both fascinating and funny.

"What's a maiden?" Michael asked.

"A young and pretty woman." Mister bard said as he ruffled Michael's head playfully. "Don't think about it too much."

"In any case, you have given me much material for my songs. It is only fair that I return in kind." Mister Bard continued as he smiled mischievously. "How about that knife spinning trick that you showed interest in?"

"Yes!" Michael couldn't hold his excitement. "Please!"

"Haha! Very well. Now watch closely…"

For the next half an hour, mister bard taught Michael the basics. There was a far way to go before Michael could do the trick well, but at least now he could practice in his free time.

"By the way." Mister Bard spoke after they finished. "How will you name your blade?"

"Name… her?" Michael asked puzzlingly. "What do you mean?"

"Her name! What shall it be called when people speak of the hero?" Mister bard explained. "Blackfyre, Dark Sister, Down, even the great sword of our very own lord, Ice. All of them are blades that carry with them the weight of the legends that their owner made, some go as far as the age of heroes itself! Any self-respected hero who wants to inspire the people for generations to come Must have a fitting name for his blade!"

"But it's just a dagger, it's nothing." Michael said depressingly looked at the pointy metal in his hand, remembering how small and insignificant it was next to the sword of Lyanna's dad. "It's not made from magic metal, it's even a sword."

"It's the very first weapon of the greatest hero of this age!" Mister bard exclaimed. "And the first weapon to be forged by said hero! Its importance cannot be underestimated!"

Michael thought about fitting names. He couldn't call it in some lame name like "Stabber" or something, but he was also sure that most of the good names were taken. He thought about it a little more, about his adventures so far and the people around him. there had to be something he could use. Suddenly, an inspiration stroke him.

"Lyanna." He decided. "I will call in Lyanna."

"Ah, after the maiden of your first adventure? A fair choice. " Mister Bard commented with a nod. "The lady Lyanna, blade of Michael. She shall never know defeat!".

AN

And here is chapter two. hope you enjoyed and please write what you think about it.

now for the reviews:

02cjd :

thank you, I actually prefer this kind of the obscure background because it gives me a chance to build my own foundations without contracting with the main storyline too much.

As for now, I don't want to give the MC any special abilities. I want him him to fit it the low fantasy setting and struggle with his challenges, do no magic for now. maybe later.

Engineer1869 :

Thank you for commenting, I appreciate it.

And you are absolutely right in that regard. As much as Michael is the center of this story, there is a whole world around him. The tree eyed raven needs to lead to a very specific timeline, and it has many challengers. Michael is literally a spec of dust in a much bigger game here.