New Castle, White Harbour:
"My father appears to have a fondness for you, Snow," Ser Wylis broke the silence as they walked, Jon glancing at the man while Ghost trotted in between them. "That is good. He does not give his approval easily, but he seems to enjoy your presence. It's a good start."
"I merely treated him with the respect that he is due, Ser Wylis," Jon replied, drawing a chuckle from Wylis.
"Aye, well, just keep those same wits about you during dinner," the knight murmured, turning the corner into a sunlit gallery.
Jon had never been to White Harbour or New Castle in his lives, so he enjoyed the sight of the large arched windows that looked over the sprawling city below.
"Now, a word of warning for dinner. My daughters will be there."
"You need not fear, ser. I will keep my hands to myself."
"Good to hear, but that's not the warning," Jon turned his head with a polite frown as Wylis shook his head. "They have been fluttering like spooked gulls ever since the raven arrived saying the bastard of Winterfell was coming to squire."
"Oh, well. What should I do?"
"For now, merely entertain their words, but nothing further than that. Also, my wife is a follower of the Seven so do not pay her words any mind. She merely cannot change the way she was raised."
"Understood, sir. I shall act how I did in Winterfell when many tried to taunt me with my status as a bastard."
"You're a good boy, Snow," Jon was surprised to hear that from Wylis, feeling the burly man's hand pat his shoulder with a broad smile. "Should you pass my father's test and become a knight, I would be pleased to have him be your squire."
"Thank you, ser."
"Now, here we are," Ser Wylis spoke, stopping before a heavy pine door near the end of the guest wing. "The man have already brought up your chests. Get some rest, wash the Kingsroad dirt off your face and a servant will come fetch you for supper."
"Thank you, ser Wylis," The large knight gave a final wave as he turned, lumbering back down the hall. Jon himself pushed the door opened, stepping into a warm and spacious chamber.
A large heart crackled with a fresh fire, casting a warm glow over a feather bed, a polished wash tub filled with steaming water and an oak writing desk.
Jon chuckled as Ghost immediately bounded past him, sniffing the corners of the room before rushing over and jumping onto the thick furs covering the bed.
Rolling his eyes as he closed the doors when the pup let out a satisfied huff, Jon slid the heavy bolt into place and unclipped his sword from his side.
Doing the same with the dagger and his pack strapped across his lower back, Jon put both down and took off his gloves, undressing piece by piece until he was as naked as the day he was born.
Walking up to the hot water, Jon sat down and let out a long sigh as the steaming heat warmed his cool skin and aching muscles.
'Well, this has been a trip and a half,' he met the king and the royal procession just moments before they arrived at Winterfell and he made sure to drink as much as he could from Ros and her friends before he departed from Winterfell.
There were also the nights of him vanishing into the woods to see if he could sustain himself on the blood of the wildlife and he could, though the taste of their blood was foul.
Not to the point that he would throw up, but enough that he didn't wish to repeat the process too many times.
'Which reminds me. I need to finish reading that segment on the next spell...but that can be left for later,' With another sigh, he took a deep breath and sank underwater.
Then, he breathed out every bit of air in his lungs into the water, lying wide-eyed in the steaming water with a stoic expression. Water distorted and warped his few of the ceiling, bubbles from his final breath wobbling up to the ceiling before everything stilled once more.
To the average human, they would have begun panicking within a minute as their lungs screamed for oxygen. Jon's physiology, as he had learned over his month of training, made the lack of air more of a minor novelty than a life-threatening emergency as he smiled.
As the ten minute mark passed and the aches from having to ride Old Boy for almost a month had faded, the Snow finally broke the surface, letting out a steaming hot breath with a smile.
"That's the stuff," Rising from the bath, water cascaded off his lean, athletic frame and the light of the hearth's flames caught the branding on his left pectoral, the eyes of the wolf flickering with red for a brief moment.
Climbing out the bath and drying himself quickly, Jon moved to his iron-bound chests and opened it, taking out a fine grey woolen tunic devoid of any Stark heraldly.
He was proud of his House, but he needed to maintain his humble facade and create his own legacy. Taking out a pair of dark trousers with them, Jon put on another pair of heavy boots and dried off his wet hair, keeping it somewhat damnp.
Taking a comb through the curls, he gave himself a final look in the polished mirror and smirked, pleased with his look. Then, his eyes drifted to his back and he walked over, reaching in to pick out the journal of his mother.
Lying down next to Ghost, and feeling amused as the wolf pup hopped onto his lap when he sat down, Jon opened the journal back at the point where he was reading.
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8)Blood Poisoning:
This is one of the few spells that could be considered lethal to both user and target as the very blood of the user is turned fatal.
To use this spell, the user must channel their Aether directly into their own blood or the blood coating a weapon. The Aether binds to the crimson cells, converting the liquid of life into a highly corrosive, blackish toxin.
Should even a drop of this corrupted fluid enter the bloodstream, it will curdle their veins within seconds. The heart will seize and their organs will liquefy from the sheer toxicity.
WARNING: Do not attempt this unless you have full mastery over your internal Aether circulation. If Flowing Red Scale is active or if your focus wavers for even a breath, the poison will bleed back into your own core.
Without an immediate counter-ritual or massive consumption of pure, untainted blood to flush through your system, the user will suffer a period lasting up to three days of agony and misery.
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'So, that's also on the high-risk, incredible reward list,' Jon thought with a sigh, shaking his head as he continued to read.
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9)Alluring Eye:
The classic tool of a Blood One. By pooling Aether into the ocular nerves, the user projects an overwhelming psychic compulsion through direct eye contact. When active, your eyes will also shimmer with a light red hue.
There are three stages to how strong one can make it:
Stage 1: Glance of Fascination- A brief subtle push that lowers their natural skepticsm and makes them receptive to slight persuasion and charm.
Stage 2: Stare of Endearment- For an hour's time, you can compel one to adore you. They will find nothing wrong with their newly found love for you and in time, these 'fabricated thoughts' will end up becoming their own.
Stage 3: Gaze of Command- Your words are absolute and the one that meets your gaze is no more than a puppet to do your bidding. They will still act normally if commanded or they can be reduced to the intelligence level of a dog, following your every command with little regard for their own mind.
LIMITATIONS: While this is exceptionally effective against smallfolk or the weak-willed, the spell will fail against individuals with iron disciple or seasoned warriors. Furthermore, overuse will cause severe strain to your vision, turning them blood red and a period of temporary blindness.
It is thus better to focus on those that are already emotionally compromised, allowing you to bend their mind as if it were your own.
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Okay, did his ancestor have some sort of fetish with creepy spells? Nearly every single one, from Serpent's Fang to Alluring Eye, had something to do either with spying on someone, enchanting someone to do one's bidding or ending the foe in one blow.
'Then again, he was part-Targaryen and they are a paranoid group of family,' Jon thought as he closed the journal, letting out a soft sigh and closing his eyes.
The want for a nap didn't come as his eyes opened, glancing at the window where he saw a three-eyed raven tapping the gl-
'Three-Eyed Raven!' His mind snapped to attention as he rose, Ghost already at attention as he was standing on Jon's lap with haunches raised.
He could feel the wolf pup's guard being raised as the both of them stared at the raven, whom stared back before it tilted its head.
It then gave another sharp tap against the glass, Jon's chest tightening as he rose.
Instead of opening the window, though, he kept it close, stopping an inch from the pane and staring directly at the bird's milky white eyes.
"You run far from the wolf's den, little Blood One," a voice echoed into Jon's skull, dry, raspy and layered with the power of a hundred years. "The lion undoes the threads of the wolf at Winterfell and yet, you flee to the sea."
Jon's jaw clenched as he felt the greenseer's consciousness lightly brushing against his mind, the thought of wanting to relax slowly creeping forward.
"Get out of my mind," Remembering the principles of the Alluring Eye, Jon projected a compulsion outwards, constructing an iron wall around his mind and slamming his mental gates shut.
The raven jolted backwards, its wings flapping wildly and Jon felt pleased as he heard the sharp grunt from the Bloodraven through his mind.
"Intriguing, indeed," the ancient voice rasped before its presence completely faded, Jon watching as the bird took off and quickly became a dark speck in the sky.
He didn't relax even after it vanished from his enhanced eyesight, stepping back and sitting back down on the bed with a frustrated sigh.
Here he was, avoiding everything because he wanted to have his own journey and now, the Bloodraven knew that he was not similar to the Jon Snow from the original timeline.
"Ghost, you can relax for now," Jon murmured, smirking as his furry friend just yipped and laid back down, eyes still focused on the window.
Well, at least he had someone that was looking out for him. Now, if only he could make some human allies.
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A few hours later:
Dining Hall, New Castle:
"Announcing the young Lord Jon Snow of Winterfell," Jon stepped through the opened doors with a soft exhale, now dressed in an exquisite dark grey tunic with the Stark sigil embroidered on the left breast. A pair of black trousers covered his legs as did his boots.
Over his tunic, he wore a black doublet with the Stark sigil emblazoned onto its back and over said doublet, he wore his dark grey and black furred cloak. Overall, he looked every bit the part of a son of House Stark and he felt proud of it.
He wished he didn't have to wear clothing with the Stark symbol on it, but these were the best clothes he had at hand and he did not mind.
After all, he was as proud of his father's family as he was of his mother's.
The dining hall was smaller than the Great Hall of Winterfell, but it was far more opulent. A long table of polished weirwood sat at the centre of the room on raised dais, laden with steaming platters of various dishes.
From baked cod in cream, roasted ducks glazed with honey and even silver bowls of rich seafood chowder, it was a much more diverse meal than the usual meat and soup from Winterfell.
"Jon, you look the spitting image of Lord Stark in his younger days," Lord Wyman sat at the head of the table, a broad smile on his round face and his chins wobbling with his happy greeting.
To his direct right sat his heir, Ser Wylis having traded his armour for a red velvet doublet.
To his right sat a plump, curvaceous woman, her hand styled into a complex Southern net and dressed in a beautiful violet dress with light purple frills that highlighted her figure.
Opposite of Ser Wylis sat another man, having the same walrus moustache and baldness as the knight in question and wearing a teal-blue doublet instead.
Next to him sat a rather beautiful young woman that looked to be his age, her brown hair tied into a long braid with several pearls threaded into it and wearing a full-length teal-green dress.
Finally, there was the youngest of the room, looking to be around a year or two younger than the first young woman as her bright garish green hair was tied into a long braid, wearing a matching green dress.
"I thank you for the compliment, my lord," Jon spoke with a smile as he took off his cloak, handing it to one of the servants with a whispered thanks before sitting down next to the green-haired girl.
Giving a smirk as she looked at him with a grin, Jon then bowed his head in greeting to the others.
"Ah, where are my manners? Jon, meet my second son Wendel Manderly, Wylis' wife the Lady Leona Woolfield and my dearest granddaughters Wynafryd and Wylla Manderly."
"A pleasure to meet you all, ser Wendel, Lady Woolfield, Lady Wynafryd and Lady Wylla."
"The pleasure is ours, Jon Snow," Wendel spoke with a firm nod, Wynafryd doing the same while Wylla's smile widened before she spoke.
"We have heard much of your skill in the yard from Lord Stark's letters, though you look far more courtly than we expected," Jon caught the warning look Lady Leona gave her daughter, having seen Arya be given the same look by Lady Stark when she tried to talk to the bastard son.
"Do not let the fine wool fool you, daughter," Ser Wylis spoke up, his eyes gleaming with a teasing amusement. "The Snow may look pretty, but he's as wild and as vicious as any northern warrior."
"I merely follow the teachings of my father. 'Be comely and respectful during feasts-"
" '-but vicious and deadly during a battle'. The words of the late Lord Rickard Stark himself," Lord Wyman interrupted with a pleased smile, one which Jon returned with a bow as Lady Leona narrowed her eyes.
"I must say that I was surprised to see that you wished to depart as the royal procession was travelling to Winterfell, young Snow," she spoke, drawing a not-so-subtle sigh from Wylis as Wyman hid his mouth with his goblet. "One would think that a dutiful son would wish to stand beside his family when such a sovereign would arrive."
'We haven't eaten and we're already beginning with the politics,' Jon thought as he picked a slow sip of the rich wine in his goblet, placing it down and letting his training under Maester Luwin go to work.
"On the contrary, my Lady, it is precisely because I respect my father that I am here."
"Oh, do tell," Now Wyman was stirring the flames, but Jon just smiled as he shook his head.
"Lord Stark has a heavy burden to bear with the royal court arriving. A baseborn son such as myself can often prove a distraction or even a vulnerability in front of the Southern lords who do not understand our Northern ways.
Additionally, by allowing me to squire under the legendary honour of Lord Wyman Manderly and House Manderly, he not only ensures that I am learning to be useful to the realm, but also shows to the rest of the northern houses that he treats even his baseborn children with some respect befitting their station as his children."
"Well said, boy! Well said indeed!" the lord of White Harbour boomed, Jon staring at the man's satisfied nod. "Sharp wit and a loyal heart! I see that my liege lord still leads his family on a path of glory. Wylla, pass the boy the duck! If he is to work yard tomorrow, he needs more meat on those bones of his!"
"As you say, grandfather," Wylla spoke, Jon raising an eyebrow at the pleased smile on her face. "Here you are, lord Snow."
"No need for the lord, my lady. Simply Jon will do," Jon spoke with a soft smile, taking the duck and not missing how she gave her sister a smug smile and received a subtle furrowing of her brow in return.
Wonder what that's about?
"Now, enough talk! Tonight, we feast and tomorrow, we spar!"
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Great Heartwood, Beyond the Wall:
'He is different than his ancestor,' Bloodraven was eerily silent as he sat in the embrace of the great heartwood tree he called home, his eyes closed as he gazed through the eyes of his ravens.
The three-eyed being had sent a raven to see if he could perceive the thoughts of the boy, but surprisingly, his mental probing had been rejected the very second he attempted them.
That...was both good and bad. It was good because the boy allowed him to speak to him through a link, but it was bad because it meant that he could not influence him.
'He could not teach this skill to others, but if he can block me off, then that means that he is much more skilled than I need him to be,' Bloodraven thought, but he didn't get much more time to think on that as he felt a heavy presence appear.
A subtle flinch escaped him as he felt a soft hand grasping his shoulder and he ignored the sensation of chilling cold breath on his ear.
"The time has come. You are free to meddle. Let us see if you can play the game now," The Dark One whispered before its presence vanished, leaving Bloodraven alone, though now with an eager look as his pupils and irises vanished.
The next moment, he found himself in the mind of a raven standing atop the broken Burned Tower, staring down the figure of a young Stark as well as the sight of the lions fornicating at the top.
'Time to put my plans into place.'
A/N: And more politics! I like writing political and talking scenes, but not when I want to do mystical power scenes. However, if I do that, then I don't get to write the talking scenes so I'm stuck in a loop!
Anyway, Jon talks down Leona, Wyman keeps getting fatter and Bloodraven finally gets to play.
Next chapter: Nothing's Changed
As always, read, enjoy, review and until the next one...
Ba-Bye~!