Alright ya Shmucks, I got another chapter out for yall. this chapter takes place in semi-canon and it's only a glimpse, we're jumping back to Melkor next chapter. Im gonna be honest, that naruto fic was a bad idea, It already freaking died in my head. Anyway, this fic is slow for a number of reasons if you all haven't noticed. 1. I have university, which is a sorry excuse because I honestly have more free time to write sometimes but im just exhausted from life to even think. 2. I have a job. I work to pay for my classes, thus taking out more of my time to work on this fic. 3. This fic is like the last thing on my priority list. Like seriously, I don't care to write a lot, it's fun but it's just too hard to go out of my way to scroll through Wikipedia for the complete insanity that is asoiaf lore and then come up with something for the story to write about. 4. this fic is at a point in the story where it's not at canon so I don't have a lot to work with, it's just total come up with your own stuff and roll with it which sucks. NOW THIS IS IMPORTANT. I have a question for yall, I decided im not gonna do as many arcs before canon.
So, that brings me to the question, which arc would yall rather see, the Rhoynar vs VAlyria arc which im not necessarily prepared for nor have any idea how It would work, or the Coming of the Andals and their big invasion, which I have kind of got a plot point for like the Ghiscar war did, or do you want me to just have a chapter about it with Jon who gets the history from like a maestar or something.
That's all for now, enjoy the show.
Oh yeah, I made a discord, it's not the best, but its mainly so y'all can ask questions easier. https://discord.gg/ZNHUEsJw
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Across the snow-covered lands of the North raced an enormous beast that would be invisible to the naked eye. The creature was a Direwolf whose albino pelt matched the ground it raced across. Any man would struggle to spot the great creature, that is if there was not a mess of black curls that rode atop the Direwolf.
Little Jon Snow, the eight-name-day-old bastard son of Eddard Stark clutched the fur of the Direwolf like his life depended on it.
Jon Snow had slipped away from Winterfell late in the night, not that anyone would notice his absence. His life in Winterfell had been bearable thanks to his father, his siblings, and some of the servants and guards. He knew his life was far better than many other bastards in Westeros, but he still felt the unfair treatment he received from Lady Stark and the septa was undeserved.
Five days ago, his father had told him, Robb, and Sansa, that he had a surprise for them. The surprise was that he would be taking the three of them along in the coming days to the library of the North.
Most children when they hear about libraries would care much for them. Other children, mainly commoners, wouldn't even know what a library is. But this was no ordinary library. It was the Library of the North. The hub of knowledge for the entirety of Westeros that dates back to Brandon the Builder.
The library was not some building either. The library of the north was a fortified castle and keep. A complex of walls, towers, and traps, and a small city.
To the south of the neck, most scholars would dismiss the teachings of the Northern Library as more fantasy than truth. The Maestars though would never dismiss the importance of the library, they think the library is an important source of knowledge. But they will never say it is the superior source.
The Faith has openly denounced the teachings of the North, calling for its burning and destruction. Something they have tried to do every chance they get since the Andal Invasion.
But those in the North know its importance, its treasures. All in the realm of Westeros are Welcome to the Library of the North. Any man, woman, or child may come to learn under the Runemasters of the Library or study under the tomb keepers. More often than not though, men and young boys would sign to learn to art of war and combat from the Keepers of the Library.
Anyone can enter the library, but not all are welcome to certain sections of the Library, for there are darker secrets only trusted to the lords of the North. And sometimes, not even the Lords of the North are privy to the truth of certain things. That right belongs to only those who have the blood of the Starks running through their veins.
Understandably, with this fascination that children had at a young age, they would most definitely want to visit the library. But as usual, his father had to add a catch to it.
Jon didn't blame his father, he was a caring man. And the catch wasn't that difficult either. All Jon and his siblings had to do was their usual duties for the day, and should they finish everything that day, his father would take them along with him in the morning.
As Jon was told this, he knew he could finish his daily routine. Lessons from the maester, training in the yard with Robb and the legendary Symeon Star eyes. Then it was off to clean the stables and the kennels. But sadly, things never seemed to go Jons's way.
It started off as a simple favor. Jon had just finished cleaning the kennels and was about to report to his father, that is if he wasn't stopped by a maid.
"Oh Jon, I've been looking everywhere for you." The maid's tone was of charm and caring, yet Jon knew this maid, and had recognized the mask the emotions the maid wore as she spoke to the 'Bastard of Winterfell.' She like a number of other servants had only come to Winterfell recently at the behest of Catelyn Stark, and every single one of them was a servant that had served Catelyn down south in her old home of Riverrun.
Jon knew he could have just ignored the maid, he had to report to his father. But his heart was too soft to ignore others, no matter how much hate burned within those people. "Is everything alright Lita?"
Lita rubbed the back of her head, embarrassed she even had to come to Jon for help. "Well you see, I've been assigned some extra tasks by the lady Evergreen, and well, now I have so many chores to do, I won't be able to get back home tonight to take care of my children should I not complete all my chores, and having the extra load would mean I would be here till the next morning."
When Lita finished telling Jon about her predicament, Jon instantly knew what she wanted from him.
"So, are you asking me to help you with your chores?" Jon asked the red-faced maid.
Lita didn't even answer Jon's question. "Oh, I knew you would understand Jon."
The maid never let Jon voice his protest. She began to list of the chores she would leave Jon to do before walking away, never letting Jon voice his outcry at having Lita dump her chores onto him.
And that was only the beginning. More and more servants would come up to Jon as soon as he would finish the chores, only to dump more chores and jobs onto Jon.
As the jobs began to pile up, Jon began to realize something: this was all intentional.
Jon had originally thought it wasn't much to do when Lita had dumped her chores onto Jon, for she had been instructed by Lady Evergreen to carry out a task.
Lady Evergreen had been butting heads with Lady Catelyn recently and it wouldn't make sense for Evergreen to impede Jon. But when the Servants that had come from Riverrun began to dump their jobs onto Jon, saying they had work to do for Lady Evergreen, Jon figured it out.
Lady Caytln had instructed her servants to dump as many chores onto Jon so he couldn't get them all done while blaming Lady Evergreen, thus leaving Jon back at Winterfell while his family traveled to the Library.
Thus he ended up in the small room that had just enough room for him and his dire wolf, Ghost, a creature that had outgrown his brothers and sisters and now was nearing the size of a destrier. So for a room to fit Jon and the wolf was not so small, but compared to the rest of his family, it was little.
'Why does she hate me? I've done nothing to Lady Catelyn, yet she makes my life miserable at every turn for simply existing.' Jons's mind raced with rage and grief while his heart yearned like never before for a caring pair of arms to cry into.
Jon had not been able to find his father that night, resulting in him being left behind as his father, brother, and sister traveled to the Library.
For three days Jon had locked himself in his room, only coming out to grab food before he would return to his bed and try to forget about his pain and longing for a mother he never knew.
On the fourth night, Jon had grown tired of the self-imposed isolation. He along with Ghost ventured out of his room to reach the battlements of the sweeping curtain walls of Winterfell.
As the boy and Wolf duo ventured through the halls, Jon noticed a figure in the hall leaving one of the servant quarters. It was Lita, the maid who had thrown the pebble that would turn into a landslide.
"Oh, it's just the Bastard." The maid that had seemed so kind and so embarrassed days ago had forgone her mask of deception and showed her true self, a spiteful and hate-filled woman who despised the North and all those within it.
All those south of the Moat that followed the Seven would always hold a sliver of hate in their hearts for the North. No matter how minuscule, those of the South seemed to always perceived the First Men as barbarians when compared to the Andals. But those were the ones who had never been North.
The ones who had come South would no longer have a sense of superiority, but jealousy, for the truth of the North had been clouded for centuries, and only those that have seen the full might of the North understood the cold truth...
Should the North Stand united and let its legions march South, only the Dragons that are now long dead would stand a chance against the Legions that only the Stark kings of old had wielded.
As the young Boy stared at the spiteful maid his heart thrummed within his chest, and a million thoughts raged within his mind that he would be too ashamed to admit to his father.
It was a simple order, for Ghost knew exactly what his master felt, and he waited like a sentinel over the seven-name-day-old boy, boring its blood-red eyes into the maid, waiting for his master to order him to rip the face off the maid that had caused Jon so much pain.
As Lita stared coldly down at the stain she saw on her lady's honor, internally, every sense of reason was screaming at her to run as fast as her legs could carry her.
The Direwolf that had grown beyond the size of even Lord Stark's 'Beast', Ghost's Mother, had its blood-red eyes locked upon the maid.
Young Jon couldn't tell, but Lita had already soiled herself. She had already caused grief to the boy and insulted Jon, and now a voice in the back of her mind yelled at her stupidity. Why she hadn't turned South the moment she crossed the Moat was beyond her, but at this very moment, she had no doubt she was about to meet her late Brother.
"Ghost." Jons's voice reverberated through the hall.
Ghost lowered himself and bared his pearly white fangs, ready to pounce. Waiting for the word, he would carry out his Master's order.
"Ki..."
A voice interrupted Jon. "Jon? What in the world are you doing up this late?"
Lita's legs gave out. Her heart had seemed ready to burst from her chest, and now she sat in her excrement as she stared wide-eyed at the woman who had unknowingly saved her life.
Lita watched the hunched-over old woman who hobbled out of the darkness from behind Jon Snow.
"Nan?" The terrified Litas voice shook so much she could barely utter the elder's name.
"Nan, he..." As the fear that had flooded her finally seemed to simmer, she tried to form a coherent sentence.
"HE TRIED TO..." She was caught off by Nan.
"Enough, I don't know nor care why you're laying in your own piss, but you will have no sympathy from me, little girl, now, scamper back to whatever pit you call a room."
Lita couldn't believe what she was hearing. The usual sweet and kind old lady who would often tell stories to young Robb and Sansa was now speaking like a lord in his hall."
Jon watched as the maid he had nearly ended scampered back to her room, leaving Jon and old Nan.
Many things in Jons's life had been confusing growing up, and one of those many things was why his father and servants of Winterfell called Nan OLD.
Towering above him was not some old lady others seemed to see, but a figure clad in a beautiful flowing dress that only the richest of ladies could afford. Her skin was a milky white, and her hair defied all laws of the world, floating in the air like the sea. And her eyes were the one thing he loved the most about Nan, for no other woman looked like her, those eyes were filled with love.
The towering Nan reached down, picking the Bastard up, bringing him face to face with her.
"Now then, why don't you explain to me what's been bothering you, my young prince that was promised?"