Chapter 15

POV Big Jon

The day I was told I would have to raise the bastard and heir of Lord Stark, I didn't know what to feel. On one hand, it was an honor to participate in the upbringing of the future Warden of the North, but on the other hand, he was a bastard. Lord Stark's attitude towards his bastard was quite unusual, as no lord would allow his bastard to grow up alongside his legitimate children. Initially, I had a low opinion of him; after all, Lady Stark was a southerner, and their disdain for bastards is well-known even in the North. I expected to meet a constrained young man, fearful of speaking more than a few words, or perhaps a resentful wretch.

However, all these thoughts were shattered after speaking with Wyman Manderly. Regardless of my feelings towards him, his skill in reading people was undeniable. I remember our conversation vividly. 

White Harbor, the day Lord Umber arrived for the wards

White Harbor greeted me with its cold sea air and its noisy, bustling populace. I have never favored such places; I prefer the familiarity of my home. Wyman Manderly, a corpulent and clumsy lord who once could command an army, met me. Those days, long buried under layers of fat, were behind him. Fortunately, he had not lost his knack for trade.

After the formal greetings, we proceeded to his castle, where I saw two boys—one with dark hair and mature grey eyes, and the other, a redhead with sparkles of mirth in his eyes. Both were trying their best to relieve their boredom.

As I passed them with a cursory glance, I quickly assessed them. The bastard seemed quite intelligent, while the young Stark was eagerly trying to be a leader. Wyman awaited me in his office, probably for negotiations, and as I sat opposite him, I began:

"What can you tell me about these two?"

After observing me for a few seconds, Wyman started:

"Overall, good lads, both are smart, and the young Stark is a spitting image of his father in terms of character. He has a bright future ahead, and if he remains unchanged, he will surpass his father."

Pleased with what I heard, I knew that my son would one day have to swear fealty to this boy.

"And the bastard?"

"He might look like Eddard Stark, but he's nothing like him in character. The boy excels in almost everything he undertakes, his swordsmanship is of the highest level, as even adult guards struggle to match him. Some say the boy is blessed by the Warrior, others by the Old Gods. There's even a rumor that he's not Eddard Stark's bastard, but that of his late elder brother Brandon Stark. To preserve his brother's honor, he named the boy as his own."

Surprised by Manderly's words, it seemed that the bastard could turn out to be a fine Northerner.

"And what do you think?"

"I don't know what to think," he said, shaking his head. "Knowing the nobility and honor of our liege, it's entirely possible."

After discussing trade agreements on timber supplies and staying briefly, I took my two new wards and headed to Winterfell. We were received with great honor there, and the ancient castle always inspired awe in me. After the welcoming feast, I had to discuss the children with Lord Stark.

"What do you think of them, Lord Jon Umber?" he asked me.

"I believe they have grown into true Northerners, and I hope they will only improve."

"Thank you for your kind words. I hope they can achieve that under your guidance."

A week after our stay in Winterfell, we had to head back as soon as we reached the Last Hearth. I nearly wanted to kiss my native home. On first impressions, this place had an unimaginable impact on both of them.

After two months of their stay at the castle, they got along with almost everyone except my eldest son... I never found out why, but I knew that although my son was a splendid warrior, he was quite inept in other areas. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fix this.

And so, after some time, I found time to gather my people to discuss what else we needed to do. After settling the main issues, I turned to Uncle Mors:

"Uncle, what do you say about our two wards?"

"Hmm... Overall, smart lads. Robb is good with a spear, and Jon seems to have been born with a sword in his hand. Both have their heads on their shoulders."

I agreed with my uncle; a couple of times, when I saw them training, even I was impressed. But that wasn't the last time Jon Snow impressed me. When a group of wildlings crossed the Wall, I decided to send my wards after them.

I expected them to return slightly dazed with two or three lives on their hands, but when my uncle told me what happened, I had to admit that the bastard truly earned his nickname at such a young age.

His clothes, saturated with blood, looked quite imposing, especially considering the history behind him. If you put all this together, I couldn't agree with those who claimed he was blessed by the Old Gods, because what else could it be?...

From the perspective of Daeron

Our stay at the Last Hearth wasn't too bad after so many months and days; I could say that I had taken much from these lands. From the importance of being ready for winter to the problem of wildlings. After the events when I earned my nickname, we faced them a couple of dozen times more.

Thus, unknowingly, I maintained my nickname. I can't say I particularly enjoyed killing, but it was necessary, as otherwise, I might have been accused of aiding the wildlings.

In the early days, I tried to save those I considered innocent. But eventually, all wildlings were found, just like the first group. They were all slaughtered, leaving no one alive. After all these incidents, I finally realized that wildlings couldn't live on this side of the Wall. There was always something that gave them away, from their behavior to their traditions. This is how I stopped trying to save them.

In the future, I would still have to deal with them, and how exactly I would manage, I didn't know. I was only warmed by the hope that under desperation, they might listen to me.

Besides, Robb and I were able to scour many nearby places to the Last Hearth. We even visited the Lonely Hills once. In this way, the brotherly bond between Robb and me grew, and Robb began to listen to me more. I don't know whom he will trust more, me or Theon, but I hope it's me.

Moreover, Tun finally got back at me, tormenting me all week in my own manner.

"Hey, Dae! I have a question, how are you different from a monkey?"

"Dae! Why do you need nipples if you don't even have milk in them?"

"Dae!..."

He only stopped after I apologized. Otherwise, he definitely wouldn't have stopped mocking me. Also, Robb and I became very close friends with the second son of Big Jon Umber, surprisingly named not Little Jon but Harkon Umber. He was generally a cheerful lad, tall for his age and just as hot-tempered. But compared to Little Jon, he cooled down faster and could be calm when needed.

Besides these events, there were no particular oddities, except a few times when different lords came to make various agreements. One of the most colorful was Roose Bolton, who arrived for the first time in my memory with his son Domeric.

Most of the North didn't particularly like the Bolton house, largely because of the rumors about them. Jon Umber often behind his back called Roose "Lord Leech."

Domeric... What can I say about him, a very kind talented boy... It was nauseating knowing I had to kill him to diminish the line of the Red Kings. But I needed every bit of help I could get, as I was facing very dire events in the future.

"....Hello Jon! What are you thinking about?" asked one of the maids with whom I had a very friendly relationship.

"Ha, nothing. Just pondering..." I answered quickly and went to my room.

After all, the Mormont family was arriving today, and I had been looking forward to meeting them for a long time. We had corresponded with Dacey, but it was not the same as live communication. According to the information I had received, they were due to arrive here any day now. "I wonder what I should expect from this meeting?..."

Meanwhile, beyond the Wall

With each day, my time... My existence, I cannot call it life... Heh, once I was the Hand of the King, the most powerful man on the continent. And who am I now? ....A half-dead who was fortunate to be born with the gift of a greenseer... But even that cannot save me from the cold and death brought by the Others... But soon... very soon.... I will get everything back... And even more... I will become a king! If I weren't Brynden Rivers!

In the third person

If someone were now in the cave under the weirwood, they would be amazed at what lay before them. On a throne of intertwined roots, as if in a cradle, lay a deathly pale lord. His emaciated body and rotted clothes might have mistaken him for a corpse, a dead man who had sat here so long that the roots had wrapped around him and pierced through him. A red spot crawled from his neck to his cheek on his pale face. Thin, sparse white hairs had grown to the floor, roots wrapping around his legs—one entering through the old trousers into his thigh and coming out from his shoulder. Gray mushrooms grew on his forehead, and red leaves on his skull. The skin of this individual was tightly stretched, exposing yellow-brown bones.

Yet what distinguished him from a dead man was a single red eye that burned with somber determination and inner strength. In the meantime, a white root from the weirwood spilled down his cheek from the other eye socket.

Once he was Brynden Rivers, the Bloodraven, the Hand to three kings, the lord commander of the Night's Watch... But now they called him the Three-Eyed Crow, a mere shadow of his former self... The loss of his beloved, the loss of what he had fought for his entire life... All this had left a mark on him... And now he had his own views on this world... Seeing the decay of the kingdom, seeing what had happened to the once great dynasty... He decided that only he could rule worthily.

He saw much thanks to his gift, everything had been predetermined and sung very long ago. At the end of the path, he was meant to sit on the Iron Throne. But something changed in the small details, as the increased magic prevented him from finding the exact moment when it all began. As he began to see not one future but several... This complicated the search for that small part of the overall picture that began to change the entire scene...