"What is this?" Jon's voice was barely audible over the roaring blizzard around him, its chilling cold warming his body as he stared in horror at the sea of bodies in front of him.
Each one was impaled upon a spear that was stabbed into the ground, their corpses arranged as if to stand at attention like battalions of soldiers.
Up above, ravens let out low-pitched, guttural 'gronks', their beating wings sounding like a stampede as Jon looked up.
Each raven had three eyes, all of whom were looking down at the young Snow before he looked down as a voice spoke up.
"Jon, my love. Is everything okay?" the woman's face in front of him was missing entirely, but her olive-tanned skin and curly hair made him wonder who she was.
She herself was completely nude, large dark nipples standing at attention atop round ripe breasts as a thin line of hair sat above the inviting wet lips between her legs.
She was neither Daenerys nor Ygritte as far as he could tell from the memories of his past life, but her voice still managed to make his head spin as she sat on his lap and giggled.
That was when he noticed the throne he was on, turning his head to stare at the dozens of blades that was melted into it and pointed up at the broken ceiling above his head.
"If you wish to gain your throne, my love, earn prestige and come find me. Come and we shall make Westeros our own," With those final whispered words, the blizzard blinded him as it picked up speed.
The only thing he saw were a pair of dark red eyes, a deep inhuman chuckle audible over the storm.
"Visions already? My, my, aren't you promising?" Jon reeled back as a circular leech-like maw filled with sharp teeth ripped through the snow, his breathing unsteady and heavy as he found himself back in the godswood.
His eyes were wide as he looked around, finding none but himself being the only living and breathing being in the middle of the forest.
'Was that a prophetic dream?' the young man thought to himself as he took slow breaths, calming his racing heart.
He couldn't remember when he had fallen asleep, only that he was reading the book for a short while and then...then he tried one of the spells.
Opening the journal, he immediately searched for the spell he wanted to try, a frown spreading across his brow as he read its entry.
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Basic Spells:
1)Aether Opening:
This is the most basic ritual spell that can be done at any time and any place that you wish. It is with this spell that you open your sensitivity to the Aether coursing through your veins and become able to use magic.
The ritual itself is simple. Carve the sigil I have drawn in the journal onto your skin and chant the mantra: Great Dark One, this humble servant comes before you in search of greater knowledge and power. Grant me the same power that you have granted to the First and allow me to bring glory to your name.". Of course, the larger the sigil that is carved, the more acceptant and eager the Dark One will be to help you.
However, know that doing so will put into a trance, one where you will view one of the possible futures that could happen. Do not dwell long on it and simply understand that it is but one of the infinite paths that are formed from your choices.
Know that with this ritual, though, your mind, body and soul are made open to the world's wonders and the Aether coursing through your veins.
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Jon paused as he looked at the branding on his left pectoral or more specifically, the upside down pentagram surrounded by black flames with a horned wolf's skull at the centre.
'So, the ritual worked?' Well, given the dream that he just experienced and the monstrous mouth that nearly ate his face off at the end of it, Jon was very sure the spell worked.
That and he could feel a warmth under his skin that wasn't there before. It felt similar to the warmth he felt flowing through his body when he drained Ross' blood, which made him realize that this was most likely the warm Aether the journal spoke of.
'It's...a lot less than I expected, though,' Jon thought with a frown, clenching his fist and raising an eyebrow at the warmth rippling through his hand.
He did feel some sort of empowerment as his senses sharpened, but the feeling didn't last long as it faded away and left him wanting more.
'I would go, but breakfast is about to be served,' the young man thought with a sigh, dusting off his clothes while making his way to the Main Hall of Winterfell.
For now, he can eat, but after that, he'd have to figure out a way on how to replenish his unique energy without making it too obvious.
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Breakfast was as tedious and irritable as it was every day for the eighteen years of Jon's drab life.
He would come in, sit down next to the guards at the lowest table, and converse and break his fast while ignoring the death glares of Lady Stark where she sat at the high table.
To be truthful, he knew that he was fortunate when his father let him stay in Winterfell instead of with his mother in a village, but at the same time, it's not his fault that his mother and father slept together and had him.
Unfortunately, he also knew that Lady Stark had the same thought process as every other lord and lady of Westeros.
"The sins of the father are forced to become the sins of the son," he muttered softly to himself, being the only one seated at the guard's table with a plate of bacon strips, fried eggs and buttered toast on his table.
Other than him, the only people in the Great Hall was his father, Lady Stark and his youngest sister Arya.
Oh, the memories that flashed in his eyes of what became of her should everything happen pulled at his heart strings as he watched Arya talking happily with their father.
The joyful smile and happy look in her teenage eyes were sometimes replaced by the stern, cold woman he saw in his dreams, making him grimace as he glanced at Lady Stark as she finally stopped glaring at him.
He didn't care much for her or her opinions now as he did when he was younger, but he did respect her word purely because she was the Lady Stark of Winterfell.
'Yet, she is killed by men that have sworn their loyalties to Father,' Jon thought with a sigh, the faces of his family flashing in his mind along with their killers.
His father? 'King' Joffrey has him executed? Robb and Lady Stark? Killed by Roose Bolton and Walder Frey on the orders of the Lannisters. Rickon? Killed by Ramsay.
The only ones that surved were himself, Arya, Sansa and Bran, and even then, survive was all they could do.
Sansa was tainted mentally, physically and spiritually by her time in the South and by Ramsay, Arya was emotionally closed off and had no care for anyone that didn't have the Stark blood in their veins, Jon himself remember not feeling the same in his memory after being brought back from the dead, and Bran...
'That is an entirety different problem in itself,' Jon grimaced as he took a bite of bacon, recalling the memories of Bran's emotionless state and his monotone voice after he came back from the Three-Eyed Raven.
Speaking of said avian/ greenseer, Jon frowned as he remembered who was truly responsible for the change in Bran's behaviour and most likely took over his half-brother's body in an attempt to win the throne for himself.
Not that Jon had any clue as to whether that was the truth or not. As far as his past life was concerned, it was mostly theories of such things happening, but given how crafty and old the man was, he wouldn't put it past him to do so.
'However, that is what happens or has happened in that time. I am different from the others as I can make sure they don't undergo such pain,' That was the thought that flashed through his mind, but at the same time, he knew that there wasn't much he could do.
His father going south was not something he could stop as it would be the request of a king against the request of a son. Sansa getting betrothed to Joffrey would look like that of a jealous brother trying to undermine the Crown Prince.
As for the rest of his siblings, none of what occurs to them were things he could control as there were many factors involved into their anguish.
Not to mention, the Lady Stark would rather die the most horrific death than let the 'Bastard of Winterfell' have a say in what her children are allowed to do.
That left him with one option and it was an option he didn't mind. He'd have to go South with them.
Glancing over at where his father was descending the steps and noticing Arya trying to fight her mother off so she didn't have to eat her eggs, Jon gave a subtle smile at his father which the man returned.
"Jon."
"Lord Stark," he greeted loud enough for the Lady Stark to hear, his father simply giving a nod before the man gave him a gesture to follow.
"Come, there are still some things I need to discuss with you of this morning."
"At your command, my lord," Jon spoke with a bow, leaving his plate and the half-empty mug of ale as he stood up to follow after the man.
Once they left the hall, Jon relaxed as the two walked through the halls of Winterfell, neither saying anything.
Jon noticed that they were walking to his father's solar, but didn't say anything, simply following in silence as they entered the room.
"Sit," his father spoke and Jon sat down in one of the two chairs in front of his father's desk, the man himself sitting down behind it and interlocking his fingers with a stoic frown.
"I hear from Ser Rodrik that your training this morning was much quicker than most days?"
"It was, yes."
"Have you been training on your own?"
"No, I have simply been doing the same training alongside everyone else," he replied and the man nodded, his eyes flicking to his father's hands as the man reached for an envelope on his desk.
"This is a missive from Lord Wyman Manderly of House Manderly," his father began as Jon paid attention to his words. "It's an offer to foster you and the opportunity to serve as his squire."
Jon paused at that, his expression stoic and calm even as his mind was moving at a blistering pace with him barely keeping up.
'Wait, what?! A foster offer?! Am I not too old for those? Also, squireship?! Under Wyman Manderly himself? Why would they make such an offer? This wasn't in the memories! No, I cannot act as though the memories are set in stone. They are merely there to give me an edge over others.'
"Jon?" Jon met his father's gaze as his mind stopped racing and he saw his father's waiting expression.
"Apologies. I was just stunned by the offer."
"I can understand. I'm sure you didn't expect such an offer due to your status as a baseborn son of mine," his father spoke and nodded gave a slow nod.
"That is true, yes. If I may, I have two questions."
"Ask away."
"Firstly, am I not too old for fostering? Secondly, why would Lord Manderly want me and not Rickon or Bran or even Robb himself?"
"Rickon, Bran and Robb already have their lives planned out for them, but Lord Manderly wishes to help you find your own power base since you are not seen by other lords as a legitimate Stark," His father began and Jon nodded despite how much his works irked him.
"I see. And what of the age?"
"If you wish to hear my thoughts, I believe that this is less to do with fostering and more to do with him wanting to help you start your own power base. After all, you share the same name as the old King in the North that raised the Wolf's Den along the White Knife."
"So, Lord Manderly wishes to help me find my own path and create my own legacy?" Jon asked with a slightly doubtful tone, one his father picked up as the man gave a soft chuckle.
"I understand your doubts, Jon, but I will say that Wyman Manderly, and House Manderly by extension, are one of the most loyal vassals to House Stark. This is a rare opportunity that not many lords would offer you," his father spoke, drawing a hum from Jon before he nodded.
"I understand. Do I have to give my answer now?"
"Not at all. Think upon it and answer within the next two days. If it helps, the 'fostering' is only for a year," he spoke and Jon gave a bow of his head, standing up and heading to the door.
"And Jon?"
"Yes, father?" he asked as he stopped at the door, turning to see his father's amused smile.
"Please, do not cause any more trouble for Theon again."
"It is not my fault when the women he brings believe I am the better option," Even Jon was a bit surprised by the pride behind his words as his father blinked before giving a nod.
"Of course. Hope to hear your answer soon," he nodded and left the solar, heading to his room with a sigh.
Well, now he had a new problem to worry about.
"Jon!" Jon paused as he turned the corner, a chuckle escaping his lips as his youngest sister leapt up and into his arms.
Spinning to bleed away the momentum of her jump, Arya looked utterly pleased with herself as Jon put her down, who looked back at her with a flat smile.
"Must you do that?"
"Yes," she replied matter-of-factly. "What were you and Father talking about?"
"Something I need to mull over for the day before I can give him a response."
"Want some help?"
"Depends. If I said that I got the opportunity to become a knight but had to leave Winterfell, how would you feel?" he asked as he walked to his room, the girl following closely with a frown.
"I wouldn't take it. If you go, then who would be there to help me train in secret?"
"Shush, you. Do you want Lady Stark to flay my hide for that?" he asked and she gave a sheepish smile as they entered his room.
As he expected, Arya most likely came to his room first in search of him as Nymeria and Ghost slept on his bed, the girl in question falling onto the bed back first while he placed his cloak back around the sole chair in his room.
"Well, what are you going to do? Is it like a big thing?" she asked and Jon glanced at her before letting out a soft sigh.
"I don't know. At first, I want to since this could help me in becoming my own person, but at the same time, Winterfell is my home."
"Well, I don't want you to go, but I also know that the only other thing you would become here is Robb's Master-At-Arms when he becomes Lord Stark."
"That doesn't sound too bad, especially considering that I'm the better swordsman between us two."
"Don't let him hear you say that," she responded with a giggle, making Jon roll his eyes as he sat down next to her on the bed. "Still, you can do better than just being Master-At-Arms for Winterfell."
"I know. I guess it's just me being indecisive like always."
"To be expected. You can never make up your mind," she replied with a snort, making him smile as he ruffled her hair.
A chuckle escaped his lips as she smacked his hand away, giving him a frowning glare and punched his shoulder.
"Stop doing that."
"Sure thing, sister. Now, aren't you supposed to be at your lessons?"
"Bah! Jeyne and Sansa are gossiping non-stop and that Septa's a pain in the rear."
"That may be, but you still need to learn the lessons and etiquette of a lady. That is, unless you want Lady Stark to take over your lessons?" he asked, nodding when he saw Arya pale.
His half-sister may be a rebellious teenager, but even she didn't dare to push her mother too far. That woman had a vindictive streak that was nearly as wide as the Neck itself.
"Fine, but we're still meeting up for sword training later tonight, right?"
"Of course," he nodded and Arya gave a happy nod and a low whistle, Nymeria rising from her sleep and dropping onto the ground beside her master.
"See you then! Bye!"
"Goodbye, Arya," he greeted as Arya and Nymeria left, finally letting out a shaky breath as the strong scent of Aether clinging to his nostrils went with her.
Well, that was a lot more challenging than he expected.
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'He's changed,' the thought flashed through Arya's mind as she closed the door, controlling her racing heart and heavy breathing as Nymeria followed her to the room where Sansa and Jeyne were still doing their lessons with the Septa.
Every step, she felt a wet droplet rolling down her inner thigh as her flower yearned for Jon, but she forced those disgusting thoughts back and shook her head.
She didn't know when they started, but she figured out what was happening to her when she saw Jon shirtless once and nearly gave a mewl when he smiled at her.
She didn't understand why she lusted for her older half-brother nor why she only yearned more for him the more she pushed those thoughts away, but she nearly acted upon them when she saw Jon turn the corner.
It was as though there was something new to his presence, a sort of calling that made her mouth water and her legs weak, which was why she sat down on his bed the moment she got the chance.
'It's immoral, Arya. You shouldn't do it,' she chastised herself, taking deep breaths to try and calm her scorching blood.
At the same time, the Targaryens did it so it can't be that wrong...right?
Oh, now she wishes Jon takes the offer if only so that clarity and sense can return to her for she knew that if the two get the opportunity to be truly alone...
'The gods themselves will be scandalized by what I will do.'
A/N: And we're going to end it here. Truthfully, this chapter is more of a set-up for the next one as we're going to have a slight time-skip.
Also, the female is someone I'm not going to say who, but people should figure out who she is very easily if you know ASOIAF lore.
Another also, Arya's not the love interest, but I just wanted to show the effects of Jon being the only one that truly lets Arya be who she wants to be as well as what being in the presence of a Blood One does to the average person.
Also, saw some of your ideas and the one about Jon taking an apprenticeship sounded intriguing so this is my spin on that.
As always, read, enjoy, review and until the next one...
Ba-Bye~!