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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

Wyfunt · 电视同人
分數不夠
21 Chs

Chapter 5

Dacey entered the tent and dropped the wooden bowls of soup to the ground in horror, then ran to her bloody friend. John's assurances that he was all right didn't reassure her - the boy had a hole in his shoulder that you could easily put your finger through! He never let go of the dagger.

Twenty minutes later, Lord Stark was in the tent with the rest of the northern lords and the king. It was the first time many of the nobles had ever seen the face of the Quiet Wolf contorted with anger.

- The Seventh Heath! - was all the king could say when he saw what the body of the hapless assassin had become.

Ned rushed over to John and held his face in his hands, looking into his gray eyes. Jon didn't remember his father ever worrying so much about him. Lord Stark's face clearly showed fear that was slowly turning to rage.

- It's all right, Father. It's not my blood," Jon grumbled: Daisy had tightened the bandage around the wound too much. - Well, most of it.

Eddard stood up slowly and turned to his lords.

- Lord Bolton," he addressed them.

- My lord?

- I want no ships allowed out of the harbor," Lord Bolton looked questioningly in the king's direction.

- Do it! - Robert shouted. Lord Bolton and his men left.

- Did the assassin say anything that might lead to his master? - Ned asked.

- He only asked if I was Jon Snow.

- Lady Mormont, how long have you been gone?

- Less than five minutes. I went to the camp kitchen to get something to eat.

- The employer overestimated the assassin, or the assassin overestimated himself," Jon Arryn muttered. Though no one would expect an eight-year-old to be able to fight back in any way.

- Apparently the hapless assassin didn't expect the wolf cub to bite," Ser Jaime said with some... respect.

- The boy has wolf blood in him! - shouted the king.

- Lady Mormont.

- Lady Mormont. Yes?

- I would ask you to take John to your private tent. Put your men around him and don't let anyone inside except those who are here now.

- You got it.

- What are you going to do, Ned? - Lord Arryn addressed the Keeper of the North as he left the tent.

- Find and behead the infanticide," Eddard growled. The king was just as angry, whether out of friendship or genuine pity for the bastard.

- Kingslayer, see that Lord Stark gets all the help he can.

- I will.

There's been quite a stir. In addition to the harbor, people were forbidden to leave both camps and Castle Pike. Latniks from the North and Stormlands, led by the king's guards and the northern lords, checked the camp. Not much came to light, though they even managed to find witnesses that saw the assassin before entering the tent.

The perpetrator turned out to be a soldier who had previously served at Atranta Castle, which belongs to the younger branch of House Vance, vassals of the Tullys. But there was no other hard evidence that could confirm the involvement of any of the river lords. And you can't ask a dead man. The soldier's origin and uniform could only be called evidence by a very strong stretch.

Another witness on the day of the assassination saw the assassin leaving the Pike, presumably where he was hired. But here comes the problem. Almost all the nobles were in the castle at the time. All of the river lords and most of the storm lords, as well as the lords of Spacious. The search could have hit a dead end, but to everyone's surprise, a member of a side branch of House Winch, a subject of the Greyjoys, confessed to the crime.

According to the confessed, the motive was the involvement of a "seer" in the death of his only son during a sortie, and he had hired a soldier who could safely go to a military camp. Lord Bolton speculated on the possibility of a conspiracy by several men, still the boy had managed to make some ill-wishers. Ruse said he was willing to interrogate the culprit...the Bolton way. For a moment the Northern lords even thought Eddard would agree, but he refused, falling under Jon Arryn's burning gaze. The king wished to end this farce as soon as possible.

An hour later, Donavan Winch was beheaded personally by Eddard Stark. As punishment for Greyjoy's inability to keep his own vassals in line, the King ordered Asha to be taken hostage as well. In Lord Arryn's words, "To make Lord Greyjoy realize the value of a child's life." Maybe she'll even appeal to one of Lord Stark's sons, despite her age.

Almost all the lords present realized that the trial, as well as the execution, was a farce. The only person who benefited from the bastard's death was old man Hoster. But aside from the executor's origins and Catelyn Tully's intolerance of Jon, there was no evidence against him. And only the Northern lords knew about the intolerance. No court would find him guilty. And even if they did, not even Ned Stark would start a war with the Riverlands over a bastard. There was nothing to threaten Hoster.

...

Snow was recovering quickly. To the maesters' surprise, the through wound was healing literally before his eyes. Jon healed himself every night. Daisy was almost never away from him, for she was terrified of losing her friend. They even slept in the same bed or on the same skin. If the boy had been at least five years older, that might have caused problems. John noted that his friend was soft and warm, despite her immense strength, and smelled pleasant. Though perhaps that was because when she'd squeezed him on the way to Kailin's Moat, he'd said she smelled like fish and bears.

The troops at this time were loading onto ships and returning to the mainland. The war was over and the soldiers were to return home. Four days after the assassination attempt, John was strong enough to travel, and in eight days the wound had healed. It would forever leave a scar, but it was a small price to pay for life.

The last point of the journey before heading north was to be Lannisport. King Robert's orders were to organize festivities and a tournament to celebrate the victory of the war. As much as Lord Stark wanted to, he could not ignore them. He and some of the northern lords would have to stay in the city for nearly another month. Many lords and their families were traveling from all over the kingdom for the tournament. The army has moved on home.

***

Lannisport was the largest city in the Western Lands, a center of trade and industry, and home to renowned goldsmiths and goldsmiths. Nominally the town was ruled by the Lannisters of Lannisport, the younger branch of the great house, but in fact they had little or no power and made decisions on very minor matters. Mostly localized problems, so as not to distract Lord Tywin with trivial matters.

The loss of the entire Lannisport fleet, burned in the harbor, can be called almost the only success of the rebellion. In addition to the fleet, the fire damaged the port itself and the buildings nearest to it: warehouses and dwellings. In the time that had passed since the fire, the port was almost rebuilt, but still had to continue to receive a sufficient number of merchant ships. The buildings were still damaged, the work of rebuilding them hadn't even begun.

It was unusual for John to hold a tournament and festivities while there were still traces of war in the city. It wasn't a feast during the plague, but in the bastard's mind, it wasn't worth it just yet. Neither the natives of Skyrim nor the ubiquitous imperial bureaucrats would appreciate something like this after the execution of Ulfric Stormwind and the nominal end of the civil war. There were festivities in taverns and inns, accompanied by lots of drinking and fights, but they were self-organized.

Maybe it was just a whim of the king, maybe the people decided to distract themselves from their problems with spectacle. Either way, John would have plenty of time to wander around the city. Tom and Dacey won't be a step away from the little wolf cub. It will be a bit of an inconvenience at first, until John is mistaken for one of the northern lords, accompanied by guards.

***

A few days later, Lannisport.

The tournament was to begin in a week, or rather, its first bouts. The tournament itself would stretch over a full ten days. The size of the tournament was impressive, as was the size of the prizes. Perhaps the winner of the tournament would be able to hire a small army with the gold he won.

The feast was in full swing. The official festivities associated with the tournament were supposed to begin at the same time, but the Lannisters could not help but show their influence and power by frittering away their money. A small feast with music and dancing was organized for the lords who had already arrived. It was held in one of the manors inside the city walls, and it belonged to Reginald Lannister, but who cares? The real festivities would be at Casterly Rock.

It was the first time Jon had ever been to a feast; Lady Catelyn had always forbidden him to attend any held at Winterfell before. Snow was enjoying the moment and the company, in the hustle and bustle of the feast no one was even interested in his origins, and the boy had found himself at a feast he didn't belong at.

He danced with Dacey, it looked quite funny, and the skills had long since been confused. The last time Dovakin had danced with Serana and High Queen Elisif was at a feast in the Blue Palace.

Dacey was really beautiful in her dress, not that she outshone the other girls, but she was even asked to dance by the heirs of the southern lords, someone tried to woo her. They stopped doing so, however, faster than the king emptied his wine goblets. The Mormonts are one of the poorest houses, even in the North, and no dowry is expected. One of the "suitors" had even broken her nose after John had explained to her the nature of his veiled phrases and half-hints. The young man hinted that the Long Claw, the Mormont family blade, would be a good dowry.

- Only a complete idiot could hope for a different outcome! - shouted the king from his seat, and the other lords joined him.

The feast was still going on, Jon was still incognito, but Eddard Stark had no doubt that one of the lords on the march would inform the lord of the manor about the bastard at the feast. After that, Ned would probably be politely asked to send the boy away.

Snow had even plucked up the courage to ask a girl about his own age, maybe a year or two younger. She was a little overweight, but that was probably an age thing. It didn't hurt to tease the girl, and the golden-haired children didn't miss the opportunity, even as they danced they grunted as they looked in their direction. She didn't seem to have any friends her own age here yet.

One outcast reached out to the other, brown eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude, even though John stepped on his partner's foot a couple times during the dance. Still, the boy was very handsome and was bound to become even more attractive with age. The daughters of Lannisport were not very happy that the handsome boy preferred this piggy to them.

- I see the boy is enjoying the festivities," Mormont spoke to Ned.

- They haven't recognized his status yet, or they're afraid to send away the bastard of the king's best friend.

- It won't last long.

- At least let him be happy tonight, I haven't seen him smile in a while. Maybe he'll get some exercise. They probably won't let him into the Cliff.

- I spoke to Lord Amber and Lord Manderly," Jorah said, changing the subject.

- About what?

- About the boy.

- Specifically," Eddard gritted his teeth.

- They've agreed to take him as a ward, as have I. Bolton, too, I suppose, but I doubt the Dreadfort is a good place for a child so bright.

- Why would I give John away?

- To protect him, My Lord. We don't know who was involved in the attempt on the boy's life, but we need to send him somewhere Hoster Tully can't reach.

- That sounds like a baseless accusation against the head of a great house," Ned warned, his eyes narrowing.

- A very plausible unfounded accusation," Mormont corrected him. Ned sighed heavily.

- I'm afraid to confide in my own wife now.

- Then the boy is not safe in Winterfell, and he must be hidden, have you thought about where?

- I've thought of Greywater, but Jon may not like the moors. When Bronze Jon arrives, I'll talk to him, maybe he'll agree. I'd talk to the Lords of Spaceland and Dorne as well, but--

- The former won't do you any favors, and the latter aren't here," Jorah finished for him.

- Exactly.

A teenage boy, who looked like the girl's older brother, approached the dancing couple. He whispered something in her ear, and she bowed to John and left with him. Snow was now dancing with another girl his age, this time a blonde.

***

A few days later.

- Not so tight, John," Dacey said to her friend. He was helping the girl into her armor. There were some other elements of plate armor besides the chain mail.

- I'm still against your participation, so let me at least express my disagreement this way.

- Are you worried about me, little wolf?

- Only an idiot wouldn't be worried when his friend is in a general fight," John snorted.

- Wow! The wolf cub remembers me! I thought Lady Piggy was much more interesting to you.

- First of all, she and I just danced once. Second, jealousy doesn't suit you," John jokingly tapped Daisy on the head with the hilt of his dagger.

- How could I not be jealous? I was hoping to be a she-wolf, and now I have a rival from the Flowerlands," she said jokingly.

- If you behave well, I'll agree to make you one of my wives," John said jokingly, though for a moment Dacey thought she heard a hint of seriousness.

- Why would a wolf want more than one wolf?

- He'd had a hard childhood under the roof of a cruel woman, and now he'd be eager to make up for everything he'd missed.

- Well, if that's the case, I promise to think about it," Dacey smiled.

- Cousin, you're flirting with an eight-year-old," said Jorah, who had been silent until then.

- He'll grow up," the girl said, as if she were taking something for granted. Jorah only sighed.

John handed the girl the helmet he had forged for her on the Iron Islands, when there had been more than enough time. It was a steel plate helmet, almost identical to the one Dovakin himself had worn while traveling through Skyrim. Its visibility, however, was considerably better.

- What's that for? I have my own.

- Yours is open.

- Is that a problem?

- It's a problem, believe me.

- What's the problem?

- To be defeated by a woman is a great humiliation to southerners, they don't see you as warriors. You're likely to be attacked by several men at once.

- To avoid the possibility of being humiliated?

- Good girl.

- But I have a black bear on my shield....

- You do? - Snow handed her friend her new drop shield.

It depicted a naked, blonde-haired warrior with a tight braid of hair slung over her shoulder. She held a wolf cub suckling her breasts with one hand and a halberd with the other. He had bought this shield from a blacksmith in the city, spending all the silver and gemstone he had captured on it. Books were too expensive.

- This is...

- A tribute to the image on your manor gate. Something similar, but not specifically Mormont.

- The fight's about to begin," Jorah said.

- Go on, I'll be right behind you.

John helped the girl to put on her helmet so that it wouldn't hang down, and took the shield in his left hand. After that he decided to cheat a little. He saw no reason not to take any advantage. Snow hadn't cast any spells on others besides healing spells yet, so he tried to concentrate as hard as possible.

"Stone Flesh" and 'Encouragement' were cast on his friend, the latter of which took almost all of his reserve. Illusion magic had been mastered disastrously poorly so far, as well as destruction magic.

- Mid! - John reinforced his friend with Shriek as well. He could only hope she wouldn't realize it. Or pretend she hadn't guessed.

He couldn't use more than one word of power in Screams, and he'd been coughing up blood for almost three days after last time. It would be another year before he could use three, or at least two, words in Screams. Something powerful like Will Subjugation or Cyclone would be unlikely to be used before the sixtieth birthday in this world.

...

Dacey and Jorah stepped out into the wrestling ring. There were nearly a hundred and fifty competitors on it. There were sword and sworn knights, mercenaries and nobles alike. All equipped as well as finances would allow. Mentioning that few mercenaries could afford good steel armor was not worth mentioning. The battle horn sounded and the fight began.

Dacey quickly defeated her two closest opponents. Each took less than three blows. The naive Southerners thought she was fencing. She knocked another one down with a shield to the body, who looked at the mace and decided not to get up. There were fewer and fewer competitors. The fight was dragging on.

The fighters split into groups according to region or origin, following the example of the Northerners: they united almost immediately, they did not feel comfortable in the South. Soon the groups were fighting each other, and after another ten minutes the members of the victorious fighters were fighting among themselves.

There were already ten fighters left, the Mormonts were among them, but the remaining eight defeated them together, seeing them as the greatest threat. The Tyrells' sworn knight won the fight, receiving three thousand gold dragons for the victory. The King liked the fight, and even ordered that the "fighter with the naked wench on his shield" be rewarded as the contestant who defeated the most opponents. Dacey received a thousand gold dragons. When Jon had treated her that evening, he had assumed she had gotten just as many bruises and abrasions.

The tournament was approaching the climax of its fascination. The next day was to be a spear fight.

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