NOTE: Hi guys!

I've got news!

First thing first, I'm posting this chapter one day in advance because I have a lot of things to do tomorrow and I don't know if I'll have the time to do that then

Next up: GREAT NEWS! For at least the month of December I'll be able to post twice! This means in TWO WEEKS I'll post another chapter. Probably around the 17th. Because it's also my birthday and what better way to celebrate my quarter of a century than by posting a chapter of my story?

Anyway, regarding this chapter, I am very pleased with it. It offers an explanation for Jon's behavior and adds a little bit more depth to some characters. I had a lot of fun editing and rewriting this one.

I hope you'll like it too!

On that note, enjoy :)

Chapter 10:The Bastard of Winterfell

The first week of the Sixth month of the year 297 a.c

Winterfell

Jon Snow

"Glass gardens?"

Robb nodded enthusiastically.

"Aye! Father agreed this morning. I'll supervise the building and the negotiations for new seeds with Grandfather Hoster and Uncle Edmure. I even proposed trying with Dorne or The Reach."

Kyria chuckled.

"How many do you plan to build?" she asked.

Robb frowned.

"Well… one for now. But maybe there is a way to make it bigger than the ones we already have? The Masters are very worried about Winter. A long Summer is generally followed by an even longer winter. Having one more glass garden at our disposal can only help us survive. And if we grow more than we need, if the Maesters are wrong we could still sell it around to our Lords. Or even to other regions."

"You thought about everything brother." noted their sister. "But do we have the space for a bigger glass garden?"

Robb frowned again, then went for one of the messiest sections of the library, where they kept all the maps. He came back with a large map of the keep with the latest modifications added. Kyria sat on a corner of the table next to him and they both started pointing at different sections while adding notes on another piece of parchment for Robb's new project.

Jon watched them numbly. The words flowing over his head. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything. He turned six and ten a sennight ago. In the eyes of the law, and in everyone else's he was now considered an adult.

Almost out of nowhere, people started talking around him.

The staff in the kitchen, the maids in the corridors, the guards outside. He could feel their eyes following him everywhere. Worst of all, Lady Catelyn was watching him.

What will the bastard do? How long is he going to stay here?

He had to ask himself this question. He needed to make decisions. Stay? Go? He had dreamed once, to be the next Ser Rodrick. To train his brother's soldiers. His brother's children one day. He loved this idea. But it was pointless to pursue such a dream. Not while Lady Catelyn was there. And who was he, really to ask such a woman to leave her home? She would never allow him to stay. Not while she had now no obligation to educate him, or allow him close to her children.

And even though she might have agreed, Jon didn't feel like he would have been able to stay here for long. He loved Winterfell. But we couldn't live as his brother's shadow for the rest of his life. He loved Robb, always had. But being so close in age, and being what he was, meant he had been compared to him all his life. Being the shadow behind Robb's blinding light would end up in resentment. He knew it. He could feel it sometimes, much to his shame. He never wanted to resent his brother. Ever.

He'd rather die than become what Lady Catelyn thought of him.

He wanted to prove himself. Make his own name. Be something else than Jon Snow the Bastard of Winterfell. The single black spot in Ned Stark's otherwise perfect reputation.

Once, he wished to be a knight. Like those in the stories Sansa loved. Or, any kind, really. Just a knight. With a name on its own. But no knight ever squired him and his dream, like many others, died long ago.

In recent years, his uncle Benjen often crossed his thoughts. He always had fantastic tales about the Wall, the watch and the wonders he got to see beyond the Wall. It sounded more and more appealing to him. A place where birth or status didn't matter. A place where he could do anything, be anyone he wished to be. They always said the Night's watch would forgive all crimes. Which meant he could grow into someone respected. He could protect the Realm. The North, his family.

It sounded like something he could grow to enjoy. The cold might be hard. But in the end, he was from the North. He had winter in his veins. And maybe then, his father would grow proud of him too. He could show him he had been right to raise him as he did. Away from his mother and almost like a noble born son.

"...Cailin?"

Jon blinked, thrown back into the conversation.

Kyria nodded pensively, a completely different map displayed in front of her. When did that happen?

"It would be advantageous for us. Moat Cailin has always been one of our strongest Holdfast. And even as it is, half in ruins and unoccupied for hundreds of years, it still guards the North more efficiently than any other keep. From the South it's impregnable."

Robb nodded eagerly.

"I think it is possible. It would take time. But if we start by feeding the people, with glass gardens like in Winterfell, we could build something. People go where the food is, don't they?"

What were they talking about?

"Yes. And maybe this would even build a new commercial road between the Moat and White Harbor. The builders will have to come from somewhere after all."

Robb bites his lip and promptly draws a single straight line from White Harbor to the Moat.

"They are close enough for the whole thing to be manageable."

"You will have to work more thoughtfully on this brother. But it could be your first real contribution to the North. And an advantage for this coming winter."

Robb nodded, still focused on the map. The fire burning in his eyes screamed of a determination Jon didn't know he could show for anything else than sword fight. Jon had no idea what this was about. But he looked like the future was building in front of him.

" We should talk to Father."

Talk about what? Jon didn't dare voice his confusion. It would mean confessing how inattentive he had been and he wasn't prepared for Kyria's intense disappointed glare.

"Aye." she nodded. "But Robb, you do know ruling the North won't be about glass gardens and restoring old keeps? You have other things to take into consideration."

Robb scratched his growing beard.

"Aye. I'll have to deal with the lords too."

Kyria nodded with a long suffering sigh.

"Aye. You need to gain their respect. The sooner they'll see you as Father's heir and not a mere green boy pretending to be the heir the better."

Harsh. True, but harsh. Stubborn old fools the lot of them.

"What do you propose then?"

"I don't know. But Father would surely have ideas. He knows them better after all."

They worked well together. They answered each other as if they had been doing that for years now. It was another reason for Jon not to feel completely at ease recently. He felt left out. The awkward third wheel in their dynamic duo. He knew it was partly his fault, Kyria had asked for his help first and then… He still needed to talk to her about that.

Both Robb and Kyria were made for great things. Lord of Winterfell. Warden of the North. And his sister could very well end up married to one of the other Lord Paramount of the Seven Kingdoms. A Prince of Dorne maybe. She would fit well in Dorne, from what Jon had read about the place. Or in the Reach or the Vale. She wasn't the Queen Sansa seemed very inclined to become, but there was no doubt great things would come for her.

And Jon was just the Bastard of Winterfell. The baseborn brother with no glory beyond the one he would be able to put behind his own name. Far from anything his siblings would one day become.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Jon? Are you alright?"

Jon dropped his training sword. Robb whipped his face with the sleeve of his tunic.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, you look… distracted."

Jon sighed and rubbed his hair. Sweat had caked heavy locks against his forehead, partially clouding his eyes.

"It's...I have a lot to think about." he answered vaguely.

He had hoped Robb would drop it. But he was stubborn. He put his own sword away and pushed his behind against the holders where they put all the training swords.

"What is it?"

Jon hesitated. But in the end, Robb always knew how to make him talk.

"I'm six and ten."

Robb blinked.

"Yes?"

Jon made a vague gesture behind him.

"It made them talk. A lot. I'm tired of their questions."

The words came out blurry from his mouth. Confused and vague.

"Jon, what are you talking about?"

"My future," he said finally.

"What of it?"

"What am I to become once your mother throws me out of the keep?"

Robb huffed.

"Mother wouldn't do that."

Jon's eyebrow rose. It took a moment for Robb to correct himself.

"Father wouldn't allow her to do that."

He only shrugged.

"She would be in her rights."

"Jon…"

"I am a disgrace to Father's good name and her own reputation. Her disdain is perfectly understandable."

"No, it's not. You didn't ask for any of this."

"Doesn't matter what I want." Jon's left foot scratched the dirt. "Maybe I should leave. You know… before she can chase me away."

"And go where? Jon, you're a Stark. You're Father's son like me. Your place will always be here."

Was it?

Jon was realistic. Winterfell might be his home but it could never be his place. What was he supposed to do now?

"Robb…"

Robb pressed his brother's shoulder comfortingly. Jon felt awkward. Ashamed of his fears. What was he supposed to say? He wished he could just hide somewhere and forget everything.

Robb patted his shoulder.

"You know I will never let her chase you away like that don't you?"

"I know. This was never the issue."

"Then what is?"

"I can't spend the rest of my life following you."

"Jon, I would never consider my life without you by my side. You're my brother."

"Aye, I know."

Robb smiled. He looked defeated. Like he knew what Jon was about to say.

" But I want to try to be something else than the Bastard of Winterfell. I want to make my own path."

"Maybe you would, and still stay here?"

He almost snorted.

"They all look at me and see the bastard. Look around you. It's all I'll ever be if I stay here."

"Then we'll have to make them change their mind."

...Yes? That was what he wanted to do? Why was Robb saying it like a great revelation?

"That's what I am thinking of doing Robb…"

"No, listen, Father wishes… that is Father and me, we wish to build another glass garden."

...Really?

"Father wishes?"

Robb looked away, the tip of his ears pinkish red.

"I might have talked about it first."

Now that he believed. That whole thing with Kyria the other day made more sense now.

"But we will have to send someone at White Harbor to collect the new seeds. Father allowed me to negotiate with Dorne and the Reach. Maybe you could do that?"

Jon frowned.

"What would that change?"

"You could make yourself known down there? White Harbor is the city of Lord Manderly. You used to say you wished you could have been knighted by someone. To make a name of your own."

"And you think someone in White Harbor will knight me? Without any reason? Robb, I-"

"No, not without reasons. But, I know no one more worthy of a knighthood than you Snow."

It was hard to believe. It sounded absurde. Impossible. But Robb was good at talking Jon into things. Whether it is scaring their sisters in the crypts covered in flour or going to White Harbor to impress a Lord into knighting him.

"Think about it Jon," insisted his brother with an infectious passion.

Jon didn't want to. There were too many "maybes" in Robb's plan for Jon to completely allow himself to hope.

But Jon was weak.

He spent days thinking about it. Neither he or Robb shared the conversation with Kyria.

In the end it all spirales around one question. Who was he? No matter how he could never answer. For he missed half the puzzle.

Missing his mother had been a constant for him. Living under the same room as a woman like Lady Catelyn Stark only made it harder for Jon to ignore the empty space where his mother should have stood in his life. Every show of affection was a reflection of what he would never have. Once, he might have dreamed of soft hands and softer words comforting him in the dead of night. Now, he knew it to be a foolish fantasy of a young mind, eager for a scrap of affection he will never receive.

Jon was confused. And worried. Of course.

Theon mocked him for his grim face and Robb huffed with a roll of his eyes, but Jon didn't react. He was lost and he needed to find what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

"Come on Snow, do we need to drag you back to Wintertown to stop you from moping like the poor soul you are?"

"Leave him alone, Theon, he wants to mumble in his corner. He'll come around." dismissed Robb.

"Come around heh? Seriously Stark, why do you still bother with this poor sod? He's depressing!"

Jon ignored the Greyjoy ward. There was no point paying attention to him when he was like that. . Ghost, who until then was playing with his brother, jumped out of the other pup's batting paws to follow him enthusiastically. His little tail happily waved behind him as his blood-red eyes kept looking up at him adoringly. Jon scratched his head and took the direction of his room. He was growing fast.

To reach his rooms, Jon had to come across the warm hall where the little ladies had their design sessions every other day. It was one of the reasons why he rarely dared to come into the main keep by this time of the day.

As he came closer to the room the growing sounds he could overhear made him wish he had chosen another place to escape.

"SHUT UP!"

"LADY ARYA!"

"NO! I HATE YOU! BOTH OF YOU AND YOUR PERFECT CRAP OF TISSUE YOU'RE SO PROUD OF! YOU'RE ALL STUPID!"

"ARYA!"

What in seven hell was happening there?

The door bursts open. Jon barely jumped out of the way, avoiding a very painful encounter fit his nose. Arya stomped out of the room, face red and blinded by her Anger.

Arya's tantrums seemed to go worse and worse recently. More frequents too. Kyria didn't talk much about what happened in their shared lessons. But the girl's short temper was impossible to miss. She seemed to hold a personal grudge against everyone in the keep. Most of her rage was dedicated to her sisters though. Jon still had not figure what the problem would be.

There had been something about Arya being jealous of the time he spent with her oldest sister, but it couldn't be that. She had been just as irritated when he momentarily stopped helping Kyria.

Even more confused, he made his way to his room. He closed the door quietly behind Ghost. The silence that welcomed him was like a balm against his troubled mind. Jon slowly padded to his bed, and let himself fall head first against the soft fell asleep without realizing it.

Something was pushing his hip. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. It was one of those moments, where you knew you were sleeping, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to wake up again. Or to move at all. When all your limbs were heavy and though your heart was beating faster for being mostly conscious, you still stayed asleep. Unmoving.

Except he was moving. Something was poking his hip. First, he thought of Ghost. Except Ghost didn't have fingers. After far too much effort, he opened an eye.

"... Arya? What are you doing here?"

The little girl was curled into a ball, her back on him, on the edge of Jon's mattress. Little noises on the floor informed Jon of Nymeria's presence, along with her mistress.

"I wanted to spend time with you."

The reproach was barely veiled, and Jon felt a rush of guilt block his throat a moment. But pushed it away. She was the one angry all the time at everyone after all.

"While I nap?"

Her shoulders moved.

"You're stupid. Napping is for babies like Rickon."

...Huh.

When did he stop being bothered by the comparison? Was it what they call growing up? Strange sensation. He watched her silently.. Was she pouting again? Ruminating for sure. Why there though? Unless…

"Are you trying to hide or something?"

She almost jumped. Huh, so she was.

"Is it because of what happened in your lesson?"

"How do you know that?"

Jon moved up, his elbow supporting his upper half away from his mattress and very inviting pillow.

"I heard, when I came up here."

She grumbled something and suddenly fell back on the bed. And on Jon's lap. He winced painfully. Ouch. Point bones everywhere. She was skinny and sharp on the edges. She ignored his wince, and glared at the ceiling for no apparent reason. Jon waited for the explosion.

"It's not my fault! They are all stupid with their stupid lessons and lady stuff! Why should I even care about being a lady to begin with? It's useless! And stupid! I hate it! I'll never be a lady, I'd rather die!"

Here they go. Little bit dramatic along the edges but… well. Expected.

"Die?"

"Yes! I will never be boring and useless like Sansa and Kyria and Jeyne and Beth! They are all dumb and fade! I wanna be a knight and fight monsters!"

"I don't think knights fight monsters those days."

"Shut up! I wanna go on a great adventure! Like in one of Old Nan's stories!"

A shiver ran through his spine. Old Nan's stories were never good. They were frightening and dark. He briefly contemplated the irony of his little sister's statement about Kyria's supposed boredness. Oh, if Arya only knew.

"Did they say something to you?"

"Who?"

Jon shrugged.

"Don't know, the girls at your lesson?"

She shook her disheveled head.

"Not even Sansa or Kyria?"

It took more time for this one.

"Arya?"

"Kyria tried to help me once…" mumbled the little girl rather reluctantly.

Jon felt himself smile, that was good!

"Well it's a good thing, isn't it?"

She shrugged again. Jon winced. Seriously pointy bones! The elbow in the hip! So close to- Well. Arya was sharp. And skinny. And moved a lot by the gods!

Jon wanted to know what the problem really was. There had to be one somehow. But he was bad at talking. Even worse when he had to talk to girls. And she was one.

He was closer, yes. But she stayed a girl.

Why did she have to go to him?! Didn't she have a mother for that?

He was not qualified to talk to little girls when they have girl trouble! He was not qualified to talk to girls period! The only things he knew he learned from Sansa. And he doubted telling Arya she had a pretty name would help the situation.

"Arya."

Oh damn. Jon straightened on the bed, an ice cold d'hiver running down his spine.

At the door, against the deeming light of the small windows in the corridor, stood the slim figure of the lady of the castle.

Arya jumped away from him.

"Mother!"

"Go back to your lessons." the woman ordered without looking at her.

Her steel gaze was firmly focused on Jon. Her vas, even more disdainful seen from where Jon was still half seated on his bed, held no color beyond the cold blue of her eyes. It was more frightening than anything he had even seen on that face.

"Lady Stark-"

"Arya. Get up," she ordered, ignoring the bastard boy.

She stayed put. Jon wanted to shake his legs, to push her out of the bed. Anything to stop that woman from looking at him like that. But he didn't even twitch, for fear of gaining even more attention from the lady.

"Arya." repeated the woman, louder this time.

This time, she did move. Grumbling and dragging her feet. But still. Her lack of motivation fooled her feet and before anyone could do a thing, she was falling on the floor in a messy mix of limbs and indignant quacks.

"M-mother I-"

"We will discuss this later. Out."

Arya must have felt the tension weighing him down, for she didn't even complain on her way out. She wiggled her way out of the room, going between her mother and the wall. Nymerya happily followed her, trying to playfully catch her feet all the way out. Lady Catelyn did not move.

The girl's quick steps fade away. Jon slowly moved out of the warmth of his bed. If he was to face his fate, at least he could do it standing. The air grew heavier with every heartbeat.

"I thought I had made myself clear."

Jon didn't flinch. It was a close call though.

"I don't want you anywhere near my daughters. Am I clear Snow?"

"They are my sisters, my lady…"

Wrong thing to say. Lady Catelyn's eyes grew even colder.

"They are my daughters. I will not have you corrupt Arya's young mind or Kyria's fragile one with your bastard ways. Am I clear, boy?"

Jon shrugged.

"I told you to leave my Kyria alone. She had already suffered enough and I will not have you make it worse."

Jon bite back a wince. She had warned him against Kyria once. She was the main reason why he stopped helping her. That is, until Robb put his nose into the mess and dragged him back right in the middle of it. Not that he was complaining. But Lady Catelyn's warnings were always something he tried to keep in mind. And obey. Most of the time. But was it really better for him to obey the lady and leave his sisters in trouble? It didn't sit right by Jon.

"Now Arya is in a very difficult period, and you are only making it worse. I will not repeat it again. Leave. My. Home."

"Lady Catelyn-"

"You're not a child anymore. I don't care where you go as long as I don't see you around my children. Do you understand me? "

Each word was thrown with the precision of a knife in the heart. It almost felt like it too. Lady Catelyn watched him a moment longer, cold and painful in her hate. Then, without another word, she left. Jon stayed dumbly in his bed, watching the open door, as Ghost nugged his back with his little nose. Any solution Robb might have planned vanished in his mind. There was no escape from that kind of hate. Not while he stayed here.

"- I don't care, Ned. This boy will leave. I will not have him a day longer under my roof."

Something moved inside the room.

"Jon is my blood. He is my responsibility and I don't intend to let anyone decide his fate."

"The bastard stayed here long enough. He is a man now and far too close to my girls. I don't like him lurking in the corner like the stranger himself! Ready to strike and corrupt like only bastards know how to. I don't want him near my children anymore, do you hear me? I don't want that boy under my roof. I let you keep him as he was still a child but enough is enough. "

"Good gods, woman, what do you think he could do to the children? He loves them!"

"He might think so I can not deny it. But bastards are all the same. How long until he starts lusting for his trueborn siblings' place? How long until his dark nature takes over whatever bond he might have with them? He already spends far too much time with Kyria and in her state… I don't want that bastard poisoning her fragile mind. And now Arya is following his example...I will not have that Ned. Not on my roof!"

"Cat. Our girls are from the North. They are Starks. Just like Jon. There is no force in this world that could convince that boy to harm his siblings."

Someone snorted.

"I assure you, my Lord, there is. Greed. Jealousy. Those are powerful forces. And that bastard is full of them. Always carving to do better than my Robb. Always eager for recognition. Get him out of my sight Ned or Help me-"

"No. You can have a lot of things for me but don't touch my blood. I warn you Cat."

The silence that followed was heavy. Jon's legs were shaking behind the wall. He pressed himself to the stones, terrified to be found there by his father. Or worse. Lady Catelyn.

"Fine. I'll leave you then, my Lord."

Jon stopped breathing. He tried to fuse with the warm stones behind him, praying not to be seen by the lady. He waited for her quick steps to vanish in the corridors before even daring to breathe again.

He waited a while more, slowly processing what he heard. Then, with trembling hands, he knocked on his father's door.

"Yes?"

Jon slipped inside Lord Stark's solar. Ned looked up, his face relaxed when he recognized Jon. The young boy- no the young man, pitched on his heels, then went closer to his father's table.

"Jon. What can I do for you?"

Jon opened his mouth. Then stopped. He didn't know what to say. He had come here for advice. For ways to feel like he belonged. Things to do maybe. A purpose. But now…

Like always, his father was steadily looking at him. There was this strange light in the back of his eyes. It was always there, every time father was looking at him. Not sad exactly but… something else. Sometimes, Jon wondered if he was looking at him like that because of who his mother was.

Maybe he should talk about that…

His mother. No matter what he did, everyone, when they looked at him, were looking for his mother. Sometimes, he felt like he didn't exist. He was the manifestation of Father's mistake. The physical representation of the mystery was the woman who successfully corrupted Ned Stark.

Everyone around Jon wanted to know. But only his father knew the truth.

"Lord Stark… I'm six and ten."

Ned didn't respond. He looked at Jon, waiting for the rest.

"I- I'm a man and- You said you would tell me when I was ready. I think I am now. I want to know."

"Who is your mother?" Lord Stark guessed.

Jon nodded. He waited.

Who was she? Was she still alive? Did she love him? Why did she give him to his father? Why not raise him herself? Why? Did she miss him? Did she try to see him? There was so many questions. He never got even one answer. He needed to know.

"I have to know. I'm-" Jon breathes, searching for his words.

Ned Stark rubbed his forehead, eyes lost in the papers on his desk.

"Can we talk about this later Jon? I have many things to think about now and-"

Jon looked up. Disappointment creeping inside him.

"I do not wish to talk about this now."

As always. Never the right time. But not this time. Jon refused to be pushed away this time. He bit his lip, and pushed away the anger burning his throat. Didn't he deserve the truth? It was his mother. His mother. He could understand demanded he protect this woman's dignity as much as possible. But Jon wasn't everybody! He deserved to know his mother's name.

Fingers shaking inside his fist, Jon challenged his father's gaze with his own. Ned refused to bow to his child. And Jon refused to leave this solar empty handed.

"Does she love me?"

"Jon…"

"No. Father, I deserve to know. This is my mother. All my life you refused me any scrap of information about her. I don't know her name, why she didn't keep me with her, why you never talk about it, I don't even know if she's alive or dead. I deserve to know something. Please."

He hated how desperate he sounded. His heart was beating a burning tattoo inside his chest, violent and strong. He kept looking into his father's face. Grabbing with everything he had that hope of finally learning something. Anything.

Finally, after a long, long time, Ned Stark opens his mouth:

"Yes, Jon. She loved you. She loved you more than anything else in this world. More than life itself. She would have done anything for you."

Relief was not strong enough to describe what he felt then. Jon's eyes burned behind his eyelids. A thousand more questions rushed inside his head. Words pushed the barrier of his lips. But he didn't voice them. Savouring the short moment it took for these few sentences to truly set themselves inside the hole he had carried all his life deep within his heart.

"I have work to do, Jon. We'll talk about it later."

Jon didn't listen. The words were seated. Comfortable in his chest. And with them came the truth they carried. The part that opened a new wound inside him. Fresh and bloody.

"Father...is my mother dead?"

Lord Stark did not answer. Nor did he need to. His somber face said it all. Jon numbly exits the room, closing the door behind him.

Dead.

His mother was dead.

He didn't really pay attention to where he was going. Somehow he ended up in the godswood. He stopped before arriving in front of the Heartree. Kyria was displayed on her usual rock, passionately discussing whatever book was in her hands with Robb. Jon turned around and found a quiet place, at the very end of the godswood. He sat there, his back against the large wall that surrounded the woods.

Dead.

Jon stayed there a long time. Crying. Thinking. Mourning this woman he had always wished to meet. His mother, now lost to him forever.

When the night fell and called him back inside, he had made his decision. He was going to take the Black. Become a Brother of the Night's watch. There he could be something. He would make a name for himself.

He'll make his father proud. And maybe then, he'll finally feel like something else than the Bastard of Winterfell.

TBC.

Well? What do you think?

The glass garden thing at the beginning is my way to show how Robb is actively taking a role in the ruling of Winterfell before his Father goes to the North. I mean, with taking it all so long before the beginning of the plot, why would Robb wait for Robert to start acting smart? And having him invest in the North also would have given Jon another alternative to the Wall. In the end, he went for the wall anyway, but still.

I am a little bit less sure of myself with this whole Catelyn thing... I feel like scaring Jon off what she feels like is her most fragile child is something she would have done but I'm not sure... Is it too OOC?

As always I'm desperately in need of your advice and thoughts on my stuff so any comment is welcomed!

I also opened a Discord Server so If you want to bug me or just talk about GOT in general, join me friends!

See ya later!

Rubyy.