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Game of thrones: Bastard-born

Dovakin, one of Nirn's greatest and strongest heroes, finds himself in the body of a well known bastard. Maybe he has a purpose in this new world, or is it just a joke of the gods? Either way, he has no intention of accepting the fate of an ordinary bastard. The figure may be too weak to defeat the player, but his strength is enough to ruin the game. Hi! Join my Patreon, there are many additional chapters here: patreon.com/fanfiction_TV

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21 Chs

Chapter 12

========== Chapter 12 ==========

House Glover's ancestral castle, though one of the largest on the west coast, was still unimpressive. Even after the Northern Lords' decision to reinforce in the Sunset Sea with the ensuing fleet buildup and fortification of the coastal villages.

The castle was wooden, perched on top of a hill, and was a loft with a tall watchtower surrounded by a wooden wall. Under the hill were conveniently located all the buildings necessary for the life of the castle: stables with a paddock, a blacksmith's shop, a sheepfold, barracks and a dozen dwelling houses. This part of the castle was protected by a separate wall on an earthen rampart and a deep moat. Each of the walls had a gate with wooden towers. Some old texts mention that there used to be towers not only near the gates, but along the whole wall. But nowadays there are no traces of them or living people who could confirm this. It's not hard to believe, because the Glovers were rulers of their own independent kingdom before they swore allegiance to the Starks.

Not far from the castle was a new small village built for the settlers, and there was a port on the coast, the village next to it was already a fishing village. It was from this port that ships traveled to Mormont Island most often.

Lords had been arriving at the castle in the last few days to hold court. The Flints, Forresters, Whitehills, and Mormonts were already in place. All that remained was to await the arrival of Lord Stark and Lord Servin. Even though Lord Glover was enough to hold the trial, more nobles would increase its legitimacy, as just one lord might be biased against the defendant.

...

This morning, the northern lords watched from the fortress wall of the dormitory the training duels that were taking place not far from the barracks. The location was more than suitable for watching, and the duel was more than entertaining. The lords watched the Winterfell bastard defeat the young bear, time after time, not helped by the eight-year age difference or the almost head height difference.

Young Snow moves quickly, agilely and swiftly. He seems to know the direction of his opponent's attack before she even swings her weapon. The soldiers watching the fight are discreetly exchanging coins, probably won on bets. At this time, a new opponent, one of the Mormont soldiers, comes up against the bastard, but he too fails to win. Jon doesn't look tired after so much sparring, he even manages to stay on his feet when his opponent pushes him with his body, intending to throw him to the ground.

- Is the fierceness of the Lady of Bear Island exaggerated? - Galbart Glover asks the others with a little chuckle.

- I assure you she is not," Lord Jorah, who had arrived at the castle just a few hours ago, replied quietly.

- She is eight years older than the boy.

At that moment, John has defeated his opponent and is replaced by the next one.

- And the soldier who had just lost was over a decade and a half older than him. That didn't help him win, nor will it help the boy's current opponent.

- Is he that strong?

- I think in a couple years, he'll be unrivaled in the North.

- Has he already defeated you too? - That question is spoken with a touch of respect.

- Not yet. The boy is still losing all of his practice sword fights against me, but I think that if we fight with real weapons, the outcome could be different. At the very least, he could draw the match.

- So much for the son of a fisherwoman," Lord Forrester, who had been silent until now, snorted.

- But who is the noble lady who gave him such an outstanding ability? - After this question, all eyes focused on Jorah; he might know something, for the boy was his pupil.

- Lord Stark has not revealed this secret even to the boy himself, and we'd better not discuss it if we don't want to anger him," he answered diplomatically.

- But still? - Lord Jorah rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

- He's tall for his age, and if his eyes were blue I could make a realistic guess, but they're gray.

- Are you talking about-" The question was never voiced. Riders rode into the castle under Stark banners, and that could only mean one thing. The suzerain has arrived, and the trial is about to begin.

...

They stopped at a respectful distance in front of the riders and lowered their heads in bow. The procession stopped the horses and began to dismount. Lord Eddard was the first to dismount, and the others did so after him. The Keeper of the North looked around the castle courtyard for a familiar face. He was brought out of this state by a call:

- Father!

Eddard noted that the boy had grown and grown strong, that soon they would be the same height, and in a few years he might overtake him. His hair had grown back, and he now tied it in a ponytail. His eyes express joy and ill-concealed delight. The years away from Winterfell had clearly done him good.

- Jon," Lord Stark hugged his son so tightly that he grimaced in pain for a moment, to the laughter of everyone around him, though perhaps it was just an act.

- I've missed you," the boy began to scrutinize his father's guardsmen.

- Looking for someone else?

- I thought Arya would go with you, however secretly.

- We sent her back to Winterfell under escort, and she gave herself away after two hours of riding through the Wolfswood. I wanted to see you," Lord Stark smiled.

- Come, I have so much to tell you, father," Jon walked with his father toward the dungeon.

- Come, my boy, come.

***

Snow knew his little sister would try to sneak in, just as he knew she would likely be discovered. Since his departure from Winterfell, he had not stopped corresponding with his legal siblings. Claw had been very successful in getting letters back and forth, though he had to wait for a reply to be written before he could return to Bear Island with it. In any case, Claw flew faster than the ravens from the crow house, so it was he who delivered most of the letters. The raven was too smart for an ordinary animal. But the most amusing thing in John's memory was the way his raven had talked to Giora Mormont's raven during his visit to Castle Black.

He wrote Arya the most letters, the girl always answered and wrote a lot, the others didn't always have time for it. Snow wrote to his father and Robb, he did not forget about Sansa and Bran. Arya rejoiced at each new letter and kept them all in her room, sometimes rereading them. Robb shared news with him and talked about life in the castle, his father mostly interested in his progress. Sansa answered letters, too, but as time went on, her replies became more and more terse and one-worded, as if to say, "I read your letter, leave me alone." John began to write to her less and less; ink and paper were not cheap. They were mostly "obligatory" birthday greetings.

Jon corresponded with Tyrion Lannister, who sometimes sent Jon books as gifts by courier. It started after Jon first sent him a barrel of honey. They would discuss books, history, the little man would talk about what was going on at court, well, in those moments when he was sober enough to keep track of it.

***

The trial that took place over the ironborn is not worth a loud mention or a detailed description. It went rather quickly, after all, it was necessary to finish off the outlaws left in the forests.

On the prosecution side, Dacey and Lyra Mormont were witnesses, as well as Jon Snow. The latter's voice and testimony did not carry as much weight as the girls from the island, but he was listened to. Though there was more than enough testimony from the two noble ladies. As promised, John testified about how Goodbrather had surrendered, thus avoiding more bloodshed, and asked that he be sent to the Night's Watch as punishment. The boy mentioned that the ancient order is in a sorry state and new recruits would do it good. The lords could not disagree, but the choice was up to the defendant himself. In fact, between the Wall and the scaffold, few chose the latter.

The rest of the trial, the crew's trial, did not go as quickly. The sailors were questioned in groups and individually. As it turned out, only a small fraction of the crew had not been involved in raids, though they had been raiding villages near the northern mountains just before they met the wildling raid. The situation reminded John of a "bucket of crabs" in which each crab individually could get out, but the others dragged it back in.

Such was the case here. The Ironborn, whose guilt was obvious, testified against the others and turned them in. It was as if each of them was saying, "If I can't escape execution, neither can you." Westeros was more violent than Tamriel had been, Snow doubted a similar situation would have happened with Skyrim pirates or smugglers. Though he didn't rule out the possibility that human beings were the same everywhere.

The one in five who hadn't participated in the raids was one in five. All the rest were to be executed, those who asked for it were allowed to wear black, those who didn't even consider it, preferring death to the Wall. The execution took place that same night. A couple of days later, three dozen ironborn heads decorated the western coast.

***

This evening there was a no-frills dinner for the guests in the castle hall, and plenty of booze - tomorrow they would have to go scouring the Wolfswood again for brigands and Euryon Greyjoy. The Northern Fleet found and captured two islander ships in the Bay of Ice. However, neither Euryon nor his bastards were on them. If he was indeed involved in what had happened, he was most likely hiding somewhere in the forest right now.

The meal was in full swing. The lords were talking among themselves, the master of the castle had given the head of the table to Jon's father, and everyone else in the wizard's hall was in groups discussing something. The only wildling in the castle was Vel, and she kept a low profile, trying to ignore the greasy looks directed in her direction. Jon sat with Dacey, Lyra nearby, bragging about her success in her first real fight.

- The wildling's got her eye on you," Dacy said casually.

- I know," John said in a tone that made Dacy's eye twitch.

- So what's next?

- What do you mean?

- She's interested in you, asking the soldiers about you and giving you sly looks when you're not looking.

- You're observant," John smiled.

- More observant than you think," Dacey snorted. - So what happened between you two? Is it time for me to break her nose?

- Briefly, I overpowered her in a fight when she tried to escape and dragged her back to the castle. According to their customs, I sort of 'stole' her and now she can be considered - well, or already considered - my woman, I didn't elaborate.

- Lucky you, wolf boy. A wench with such a huge udder.

At that moment John was genuinely glad of this display of jealousy, even though he knew where it could lead. Jealousy on Dacey's part fed his ego, made the lad happy and gave him some reason to be proud. He knew that jealousy was one of the most vile and unpleasant feelings, but he couldn't help it. In any case, it was necessary to calm Dacey down and persuade her not to chop off her shoulder. John took the girl's hand.

- Dacey, I'm glad you're not the only one who likes me. But I don't intend to get close to anyone I can't trust completely.

- In other words, the only thing keeping you from fucking a wildling is the fact that you don't trust her?

- Well, wildlings don't wash very often," she chuckled.

- Is that it?

- Well, I'm a well-mannered man, so I'd have to woo her first... and get Arya's approval.

- Did you get approval from me?

- Of course, you have no idea how much time she spent gibbering admiringly about the warrior from Bear Island.

- But seriously?

- She's beautiful, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't want her in my bed, but I won't betray your trust.

- What trust?

- I'm not stupid, Dacey. You haven't invited other men into your bed since we've been together.

- You would have killed them.

- You bet I would.

- So if I'd approved, you'd have fucked her? - The girl narrowed her eyes.

John choked on his drink and turned pale, young Mormont kept a steady gaze on her man.

She knew in her heart that she had no real claim on him, even if she shared his bed, she wasn't his wife, and Vel wouldn't be until they were married according to local law. John is strong and if he wants to, he can have more than one woman with him. And a few women around him will raise his status and prestige among some northerners, even if it may embitter the envious. A bastard can make a name for himself, and if Vel is a good warrior, together they can protect Jon from another assassination attempt. He might be a sorcerer, but he wasn't all-powerful. This was all something to think about.

- Um... what's the right answer? - The boy smiled again, and got a playful slap on the back.

***

Waking up after her failed escape, Vel found that her face didn't hurt, not at all. When she washed her face, there was not a single scratch on her face, and her leg didn't hurt at all. What's more, even the bruises she had received during the fight with the worshipers no longer made themselves felt. It was strange, to say the least. The girl was beginning to think she had dreamed the escape, but no. Dropping her hand into her boot, she didn't find the stashed piece of obsidian in it, yet the escape was real and she had indeed lost it in the forest during the fight. This was interesting.

The girl spent most of the day watching the boy that easily overpowered her. He was handsome and strong beyond his years, and his closeness with his bird could tell that the boy was a werewolf. It wasn't such a strong rarity for a backwater, but among the Free Folk, few would have guessed the presence of a werewolf south of the wall.

She had tried to embarrass the lad yesterday by hinting at their impending intimacy, but it hadn't had the expected result:

- So how old are you, wolf boy?

- Thirteen.

- So you've been with a girl before?

- What's the point of these questions?

- I need to know how much experience my man has, if you want I can teach you, well, or ask one of the spearwomen," the girl giggled.

- No need," Vel arched an eyebrow in surprise.

- Really?

- Really.

- Are you sure it was a girl?

- What do you mean?

- I mean... what if it was a goat or another boy and you're lying to me for nothing?

- Vel.

- Yeah?

- You want me to drop you "accidentally"?

- No.

- Then don't say anything.

- You're giving up on me? First you steal me, and now you're trying to back out," the wildling sobbed feignedly.

- Wash your face and you'll have a chance," John chuckled.

- You know how southerners are, maybe I should wear a dress, too.

- You'd look good in a dress and good manners.

- Do I have to wear a dress and talk high-flown to the people you bow to to get you to take me in? - Vel snorted.

- First you'd have to learn to keep quiet so you don't get killed. Not all the people on this side of the wall will appreciate your candor.

- Fucking Southerners," the girl snorted again. John laughed and made her comfortable, they had at least another half hour to go.

...

At the training session the boy showed himself to be more than worthy, he didn't lose once, even though the opponents came one after another. The girl couldn't hide her smile. A strong man would produce strong, healthy children, and Snow would be handsome, perhaps even werewolves. She had to figure out how to approach him. Bear was almost never far from him, so it might be a good idea to make friends with her first.

When Jon left to meet the northern lord, Vel challenged Dacey to a fight. The Wildling wasn't as tall and strong as the girl from the island, but she was much faster. Vel armed herself with a practice spear and Dacey with a sword. The fight was exciting and enjoyed by both of them. In a real melee against an armor-clad, mace- and shield-wielding bear, Vel wouldn't stand a chance. But here she was making good use of her speed advantage and her resourcefulness. The wildling caught Dacey in small mistakes and sometimes used dirty tricks.

As a result, she won a couple of fights, drew a couple more, and lost the rest. But the score was clearly in favor of the bear.

Vel had managed to smooth things out a bit and find some common ground with Dacey, though the wildling's mood had soured after the questions about John.

***

- Hey, wolf cub," Dacy said as John walked her back to her quarters after dinner. She shared them with her sister.

- Yes?

- I want a nickname.

- Why?

- Well, you have a nickname and I call you 'wolfie', I want you to come up with a nickname for me. We'll have something of our own, intimate.

- We share a bed, what could be more intimate than that? - whispered John.

- I want a nickname! - Daisy began to whine, and Jon smiled: Arya had pestered him almost exactly the same way.

- "Can we not suggest 'Bear'?

- Be imaginative.

- Daisy, then.

- "Daisy"?

- How do you like your nickname, daisy?

- Asshole! You made it up a long time ago and didn't tell me! I was wondering why you named your new honey that.

- Aren't you glad? - The girl mumbled something indistinctly in response.

A couple minutes later they reached the right room, Dacey leaning over so John could kiss her gently. The young Mormont was glad Snow valued her, she slept soundly tonight.

***

Nothing of interest happened for the next couple days after the trial. The Northerners continued to scour the Wolfswood, but only one band of mercenaries out of four was found, and they couldn't destroy it completely. Interrogation of the captives came to nothing, and Euryon Greyjoy remained missing.

Meanwhile, Snow and company remained in the Dark Forest to "reinforce the garrison." The boy suspected it was simply his father's reluctance to send him into the forest with the patrols, but kept silent. When he wasn't practicing with his sword, John was teaching Dacey and Lyra High Valyrian, and Vel had joined in. The girls were making progress, even if the wildling was not very good at it.

Vel knew the language of the first humans and could read their runes, and Snow had made her promise to teach it to him. She might know the common language of Westeros, like most wildlings, but she could neither write nor read it, and if Jon was going to keep her around, that was an oversight that needed to be corrected. Illiterate cronies will be of little use in certain matters.

They had been at Glover's castle for nearly a week and a half, during which time the patrols had managed to destroy another band of mercenaries hiding in an old cave, intending to wait it out. It wasn't the most successful tactic.

***

As John began to grow rapidly, so did his potential. His body grew stronger, more resilient, and magic was easier to learn. Still, a child's body imposes some limitations even on a dragon-soul person. It could not physically be a vessel for such great power.

Some of the strength and abilities returned, and screaming from a single Word of Power no longer caused problems in the form of coughing up blood. The grueling training took its toll, and by the time he was thirteen, he could put two Words of Power into screams, and Ruthless Power could be used to its fullest extent. At the end of his life, Dovakin could put enough power into that scream to tear down a fortress wall or rip a living enemy or even a Dwemer machine to shreds, but he didn't have that power now.

Jon supposed that all the power of the dragons' souls, both his and those absorbed in his past life, went into keeping the boy able to use magic that was not his own in this world. Both verbal - shouting - and non-verbal - ordinary spells. Some spells had been simply inaccessible before. It wasn't until he was twelve years old that he was able to use the Pet's Call from the School of Sorcery. Destruction magic was still just as useless.

Some cries might not be useful at all, such as "Dragonlance", because this cry should weaken the Dovas, thus equating them with mortals, while the local dragons, in theory, have nothing to do with the Dovas. It should also be futile to try to summon any of the dragons by name, though perhaps Durnevir will respond and be able to traverse space.

...

John, who had been busy reading a book in the castle, was brought out of his musings by the unusually heavy bustle that had begun in the castle. Here and there ran servants and soldiers, all of them were in a hurry, some of them were very worried, which threatened to turn into panic.

Snow ran out into the courtyard and climbed the castle wall. He watched as the village burned nearby and as the Glover riders, along with almost the entire garrison, moved in. Daisy ran up to John in the company of several Mormont guardsmen. Vel and the wildlings were nearby.

- The village is under attack, Jon!

- I can see that, but why?

- I think the soldiers will find out soon enough," Dacy smiled.

A raven cawed disgustedly nearby, and John looked toward the south wall. The ironborn were climbing it, not without the help of hooks. They quickly dispatched the sentries on the wall and ran toward the castle's main hall, which was left defenseless.

The attack was led by a brunet with a leather eye patch.

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