Beware the Bastard

The North

Wintertown

301 AC

"Is it true?" asks a man to the barkeep as he takes a seat in front of the bar.

The inn is of moderate size and a few people can already be seen sitting within despite the early hour.

"Is what true?" asks the barkeep, not bothering to look up from the mug that he is currently cleaning.

"I hear that the Starks are back in Winterfell." replies the guest.

The question causes the barkeep to stop in his tracks and look at the guest. No man or woman of the North worth their pride would ever ask that question. One can simply tell whether there was a Stark in Winterfell by the air.

Having a Bolton rule makes the air tense and foul. The people will not be friendly to strangers, for who knows who you could be inviting to sup at your table.

"You're not from around here." comments the barkeep with a frown.

Taking the man's appearance into account, the barkeep can easily tell that this is the man's first time this far north. The man has a heavy cloak and furs on and still he shivers despite the layers and the warmth of the hearth.

"No, but I heard the North was at war and thought to offer my sword for some coin." replies the sellsword as he blows onto his gloved hands.

"To the Starks?" asks the barkeep skeptically for recent events have made all the people of the North wary of anyone in Bolton colors or outsiders.

"To whoever's in charge." says the guest with a casual shrug.

The man's casual response causes all those listening to tense as they look at him suspiciously. Sensing that he may have said something wrong, the man quickly tries to recoup.

"Of course I'd prefer to answer to a Stark. You can always count on them folks to keep their to their word." he says as if he did not notice the shifting mood.

The barkeep gives the man a severe stare for a few more seconds before returning to his work.

"Aye, the Starks are back in Winterfell." replies the barkeep.

"A good thing too." says a new voice as a man takes a seat next to the stranger. "For if House Stark were to lose Winterfell to the Boltons, then what would become of the North?"

"Nothing good I tell ya. The Red Kings have been bitter rivals of the Kings of Winter for a long time. But if you ask me, I'd rather have the Starks ruling over us." says the barkeep who receives a chorus of aye in agreement from the others in the inn.

"Aye. Life under House Bolton is nothing but fear and misery. With a Stark in Winterfell a maiden girl can walk down the kingsroad in her name-day gown and still go unmolested, and travelers could find fire, bread, and salt at many an inn and holdfast." says another voice from a corner of the inn.

"How did that happen?" asks the stranger to the barkeep. "How did the Starks retake Winterfell? I heard they lost all their men at the Red Wedding."

"You been living under a rock?" asks the barkeep with a more pronounced frown.

"No, but I've been in the Vale for the past moons guarding some no name holdfast." says the guest.

"A fucking valeman." says the northerner next to the guest before spitting on the guest's boots

Enraged, the guest stands with such force that he sends the barstool to the ground.

"Alyn! Don't be spitting on my floor." reprimands the barkeep before turning to the stranger. "You don't want any trouble now." warns the barkeep with a dark glare.

For a moment the stranger seems prepared to fight before thinking better of it and retrieving his stool and sitting.

"What have you got against the Vale anyway?" asks the stranger.

"Your Lady had her bannermen sit in the Vale while King Robb, her nephew, and our Lady Stark, her own sister, were butchered at a wedding under Guest Rights. 'Family, Duty, Honor' my ass, 'As High as Honor' my ass you and your lady are all unfaithful cowards." rants Alyn.

"I don't know the lady. I'm just a sellsword looking to sell his sword, but you speak like you knew Lady Stark. Did you know her?" asks the stranger.

"Aye, I knew her. She was a good lady, even if she prayed to those Seven and was a little cold to Jon Snow." says Alyn.

"He's a bastard, most of them aren't of a good sort." comments the guest.

"Maybe not in the south, but here, in the North, our bastards make something of themselves. Especially the bastards of House Stark, they go on to be Lord Commanders of the Night's Watch or the right hand of the Lord of Winterfell." argues Alyn

"Even some of the Kings of Winter had their bastard brothers as advisors. Brandon Snow was King Torrhen's right hand." adds the barkeep.

"Mark my words, if Jon Snow was there the squids would have never taken Winterfell and mayhaps the Red Wedding wouldn't have happened." says Alyn.

"Horseshit!" exclaims the stranger. "What was the bastard going to do, take on all the Freys by himself?"

"Like he did to avenge the Red Wedding?" asks the amused barkeep, causing the guests at the inn to laugh for they had all heard it from survivors and the men returning from the war.

"You believe those words? That the bastard killed all of House Frey and Lord Bolton by himself with Stark magic?" asks the skeptical stranger.

"Wouldn't surprise me." says the barkeep with a shrug. "Them Starks are a queer folk. They claim to have the blood of the Children of the Forest, they say winter fills their veins, and some old northern legends say that the very first Stark took an Other for a bride."

"If you ever see them with their direwolves you'd understand. Those beasts obey none but them and seem to always know who to trust who to look out for." adds Alyn.

"I say horseshit again." says the stranger. "If they know who to trust, King Robb wouldn't have died at a wedding."

"The wolf knew." says a mild voice, causing everyone to silently turn to the corner it came from. "The wolf knew. It barked and howled and refused to go in, but King Robb didn't listen and had him tethered in the stables, away from the halls. That very same night, King Robb and the Lady were slaughtered in there by them treacherous Frey. I barely escaped with my life." says the man as he raises his shirt to show an angry red scar over his chest.

"How in the hells did you survive that?" asks Alyn with wide eyes.

"The night after the Red Wedding, as I lay dying in my own blood and vomit on the forest floor, Lord Snow's direwolf found me and dragged me to him. He cleaned my wound, stitched it up, and put some poultice on it before taking me close to the Twins and stopping before the bridge." says the man to a captivated audience.

"The entire time he said nary a word to me, but when we reached the Twins he looked at me with the coldest blue eyes I've ever seen. Cold as the Wall and as blue as the Ice Dragon's Eye up in the sky. He looked at me with those same eyes and said 'They butchered my brother at a wedding. I'll kill the Freys at their celebration feast, flay the Boltons, and wring the life from Joffrey's body with my bare hands before making Tywin Lannister curse his children and bastard grandchildren for crossing House Stark. All those southron lords will pray for Robb to return from the grave to place me back in my leash.'" narrates the man before returning to his drink.

He swirls the drink in the mug a bit before finishing it. After chugging the last of it he looks up and with eyes unblinking he stares the stranger in his alarmed eyes.

"That night, the Twins were bathed in Frey blood, Lord Bolton's skin hung in the hall for all to see before being transported to Tywin Lannister, and at the beginning of this year Joffrey was choked to death and Tywin Lannister is nowhere to be found." says the man, sending a chill down the stanger's back. "So aye, them Starks have magic. It might have been gone for the past generations, but it's back now and every night I thank the Old Gods for it!" shouts.

"Aye!" scream the other patrons in agreement as they slam their mugs down.

Silence fills the inn afterwards as the patrons ruminate over the man's words, many of them feeling a burning sense of excitement for reasons unknown to them.

As for the stranger, he only feels trepidation. He had heard of the North, an untamed, wild land filled with untamed, wild, and prideful people that can only be ruled by House Stark. He had heard the stories of the direwolves, of the cold and harsh land, and of the hard but noble and honorable members of House Stark.

He had not believed any of the stories when he, not even when he had accepted this assignment from Lothor Brune, to infiltrate Winterfell and ingratiate himself to the Starks or at the very least report their doings. For how could such a barbaric land like the North truly exist when even the magic of the Targaryens had died.

His arrival at White Harbor had made him believe their stories of cold summers and even colder winters, but even then he had not believed that only the Starks could rule these harsh lands. Lord Stark had not even survived King's Landing and his son did not do much better than him, surely they could not be that great.

His travel through the Kingsroad had quickly disabused him of that notion. Every northerner he had met would always say that living under House Stark is better than living under House Bolton, and whenever he had mentioned some other house possibly ruling the North they had looked at him as if he were touched. It is almost as if the concept of another house ruling the North is not an option to these people.

His conversation in the inn is the final straw for him. He doesn't care what Lothor says but he's not staying here to be caught by House Stark's bastard. Better to have a clean death at Lothor's hands than to be flayed by the bastard, or mauled by the Wild Hunt, or to be sacrificed to their weirwoods by the bastard so he can gain the favor of their heathen and barbaric gods.

With his mind made up the stranger stands from his stool. Before he can exit the inn however a commotion from outside draws the attention of everyone within.

Following behind Alyn, the stranger stops in his tracks as he sees what the commotion is about.

Riding a horse black as the night is his nightmare in the flesh, Jon Snow. Riding at the head of an army in the tens of thousands, the bastard of Winterfell's dark yet warm eyes sweeps over Wintertown and its people.

Swallowing his fear, the stranger looks at the people of Wintertown expecting outrage or disgust, but instead they look upon him proudly and begin to cheer for him. Soon shouts of "White Wolf" and "Stark" fill the air and the stranger's senses seem to be warning him of a coming danger.

Deciding to listen to his senses, the stranger looks up towards the bastard one last time before he makes his escape. As his eyes turn to Jon Snow however, he finds the man staring at him, his previously warm, dark eyes now cold as the Wall and as blue as the Ice Dragon's eye in the sky. It is at this moment that he realizes that there is no escape from Jon Snow.

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Author's Note: Here's the newest chapter. Next chapter we finally see Aemon do magic other than warging and elemental manipulation, and he finally uses the super-soldier serum and deals with Theon and Ramsay. At this rate this arc should end in about 5 or 6 chapters. Also, someone mentioned pairings to me in the last chapter and my brain went blank tbh. I plan for the story to be a multi but I didn't really think about who would be in it other than the mc's type; which is basically powerful women. Whether it's subtle like Emma Frost or over/in your face like Visenya Targaryen, he's into it all. So please give me suggestions.