Chapter 7: The Boy Who Would Be King - Part 6

2 Years Later

"Well done, Robb. You may go" Maester Luwin's tone was faintly proud as he beheld the parchment Robb was practicing his letters on. From what I could see, it was indeed a notable improvement.

The boy beamed, more so when maester Luwin ruffled his auburn locks. He jumped off his stool, stuck out his tongue at me playfully, and was out the door to the learning room, as it had been dubbed, between one heartbeat and the next.

'Always so excitable' I smiled fondly as he bolted away, down the stairs and out of sight.

"Jon?"

"I'm finished, maester Luwin." I slid my parchment to him as he leaned in over my shoulder. Dressed in his grey robes, he was a diminutive man, and heavily aged, with grey eyes and grey hair still that reached near his chin. But he was kind, and he never once looked down at me, so I offered him a curt smile. Those were few and far between, these days.

"Skorkydoso Jeva Valyrīha?"

"Eglie" I nodded

"I see" He murmured as he stared at the glyphs on my parchment, before looking up and giving me a smile "Well done, Jon. Such progress is phenomenal"

The man had me practice writing and reading Valyrian when it became clear that I had long since become fluent in the written and spoken variants of the common tongue. It was fun, and more importantly, it passed the time. Modern entertainment was something I'd come to realize I'd taken for granted horribly.

"A learned man is a prepared one" Luwin advised gently "Perhaps when you grow older, you may travel to the Citadel and forge some chains"

My expression curdled like expired milk.

Luwin, perhaps sensing my change in mood, took my parchment and stepped away. "I shall speak to Lord Stark about your progress. Such a good effort deserves a reward, no? Perhaps you may accompany your father when he next travels across the north"

My face remained stony.

He sighed "I feel as though I have upset you, child. Very well. Go on, lest your brother comes back to drag you away himself."

I slid off my stool and without another word stalked out the room. mentions of my future always managed to douse my mood in a way nothing else did.

Because what future? I probably wouldn't even make it to my twenties, and the world would die with me.

Outside, dressed in a formfitting black tunic and black breaches stood Alaric. When I was younger, he would always make time for me, spending up to half a day with me before leaving to complete his duties. Now/ Unless I was with Maester Luwin or Ned Stark, he was my ever-constant shadow, a comforting safety blanket in a world as outright shitty as Planetos.

And in the end, he won't make a fucking difference.

His constant presence was caused by my second episode in the Godswood (the one where all hope died fuck fuck fuck). When I'd eventually managed to scrape together the energy to go back, my body weak and half-frozen from the cold, I'd been waylaid by an utter shit of a guardsman, the same one who'd named me an unnatural bastard the day before.

The ass was a former river-lander who'd come with lady Catelyn as part of her household, and he proceeded to tug me by my bleeding hand and berate me viciously for being out without permission, all the while I wailed at the result of my disastrous meeting with Bloodraven. I don't even remember the words, I wasn't even hearing him, and then the asshole decided to smack me into the earth with an admittedly weak but still painful backhand.

Right as Alaric rounded the corner, frenzied in his search for me as it was discovered I was gone from the nursery.

Though I was still out of it, choking on the ashes of my hopes, I'm told the resulting beatdown was the stuff of legends.

The ones you don't tell children.

As soon as the man could walk five paces without falling over, he was dismissed from Winterfell post haste, because bastard or not, you do not lay hands on Ned Stark's alleged son in the man's own castle. Or anywhere else for that matter. Since then, though the states hadn't lessened the whispers I'd hear regarding myself reduced to a fraction, because no one tangled with Alaric, period.

Well except for that one drunk idiot with the chicken, but we don't talk about that.

He also doubled over as my only friend aside from Robb. I had no intention of making any others (what would be the point of befriending dead men?)

"A productive lesson, I hope?" He asked as he pushed off from the wall he was leaning against

"My high Valyrian is progressing well. Maester Luwin says my progress is phenomenal."

"And what else did the good maestar say that has you so wroth?"

Because of course, he had to be that freaking observant

"It is if no consequence" I replied as we descended the stairs

"… Very well. Now, look out"

I blinked " What-

That's when Robb slammed into me, giggling his head off and knocking us both to the ground. Thank the gods I didn't have my back to the next set of stairs, or else we would have surely tumbled down.

"Be careful, Robb"

"Let's go play, Jon!" he giggled into my chest, before leaping to his feet and tugging me up "I'm going to be Aemon the Dragon Knight, and you're going to be

"Anywhere but here" I spoke as gently as I could as I freed my hand from his grip. Seriously, a child should not have strength like that.

His expression crumbled, and I hurriedly back-pedaled "I must take my bath and do my reading, Robb. We can play later"

His lower lip trembled "You're always reading those dusty old books. Playing is better"

Right, how to play this? Must instill good habits in children early.

"If you read more books, you'll learn more and finish maester Luwin's practice faster. Then you can play even longer!"

A corny ass excuse, to be sure, but one that worked from the way Robb's eyes lit up.

"Then let's go read right now!"

Crapity crap.

I'd taken to reading the last two years, out of genuine interest in the world I'd been reborn to (And if the books I focused on the most were myths from the time of the Builder, well….). Regardless, if Robb came with I'd never get anything done.

"But if you come with me now, you won't get to play today" I spoke quickly, and once more Robb's face fell. Behind me, Alaric snorted.

The poor kid looked close to tears when an idea occurred to me.

"How about you go play with Sansa, and tonight I'll tell you two stories instead."

He jumped at me again, though this time I was ready for it "Promise?!

"I promise"

He cheered, then bolted after greeting Alaric

"That boy can play you like no one else in this Keep. And he doesn't even know he's doing it.

What's with the admiring tone, asshole?!

Alaric snorted when I remained tellingly silent "Will you not go visit your sister?"

Sansa Stark had been born two moons past. She was a beautiful baby and thinking about the fate that would've awaited her in the story I knew hurt physically.

Then again, If the three-eyed jackass is to be believed, I'd doomed her to one far worse.

I strangled that particular line of thought and turned to stare at Alaric incredulously "With Lady Stark undoubtedly hovering over her?"

That woman put the average helicopter parent to shame. It would be impressive if I hadn't been subject to thrice the usual loathing when Ned first dragged me to meet Sansa.

It was my turn to snort at his silence.

…​

"And so Prince Jacaerys Velaryon negotiated the pact of ice and fire, promising that in exchange for their joining of his mother's cause, a Targaryen would wed a Stark."

I wasn't sure how much this Robb was getting, but he seemed to enjoy the tale, and that was all that mattered.

He lay on his back, head resting on my legs and eyes attentive. We shared a room at his insistence and Catelyn's outrage. I wasn't the only one whom Robb had wrapped around his little finger, so when Ned put his foot down that was that.

As for the story, Robb, like most other children and even myself enjoyed stories that featured dragon riders. Given that I was possibly one of only two people alive who had truly seen living dragons, my fascination was justified, I felt.

Jucaerys Velaryon, whose last moments I had seen impressed me more than most.

The sheer grit it took to face literal death inspired me.

That thought forced me to remember snippets

"Craven!"

I shook the thought away and slammed the book shut, the noise startling Robb.

"The rest, we shall continue at a later date"

"No!" Robb kept to his feet and shot me a pleasing look, but I refused to be swayed once more.

"Tomorrow, Robb"

My tone must have brooked no argument because his face fell and he pouted "But you didn't even talk about the dragon eggs!"

What?

"What?" I asked, genuine confusion coloring my tone

Robb nodded so fast his hair flew up "Old Nan told me when Prince Jakarys-"

"Jacaerys" I corrected

"Him!" Robb waved his arms and I snorted "Old Nan said his dragon laid eggs in the crypts so one day Starks could be dragon riders too."

Ah. This old wives tale.

"Do you think I can ride a dragon one day? Jon"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that even if they didn't all die over the course of the Dance of the Idiots, he'd never ride one on account of having no dragon-lord blood in him whatsoever.

I put the book down, leaned in, and whispered "Perhaps if you go to bed right now. Boys who sleep well grow, and no dragon is going to want a tiny shrimp for a rider."

He squealed and jumped off the bed, running to his own and diving under the covers "Night night Jon!"

I snorted "Never change, Robb. Never change."

I blew out the candle and sank into the mattress.

…​

The Conqueror's legacy shall remain protected, safe from those who would seek to destroy it.

…​

I was startled awake, a gasp leaving my mouth. The room was pitch black, and the silence was rhythmically cut by Robb's breathing.

I paid him no mind because…..

No fucking way

Back before I…. When I was still in my world, one of the most popular fan theories regarding A Song Of Ice And Fire was that there was something hidden in the crypts of Winterfell. Too many references and clues, like the original Jon Snow's dreams of the place for them to hold no significance.

What are the odds?

I never paid the memories I glimpsed before I met with Bloodraven any mind, but if my thoughts rang true….

Hope flared once more, and with it, fury.

That one-eyed sack of shit!

…​

I'd been to the crypts once before, With Ned and Robb. The man has shown us where his family lay, Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna.

Lyanna

I was curious about my biological mother, you see, and I asked Ned if it was a good likeness.

Lost in his grief, he looked at me and answered:

"No stone mason could ever capture Lyanna's likeness"

The words had unnerved me, and Robb started sniffling. Ned ushered us out and I'd never had much interest in going back. The place was dark, damp, and foreboding, and as far as I was concerned the farther away I was from it the better.

Now, though…

The crypts were located not far from the first keep and the litch yard, and the area was not so heavily guarded that I needed to worry about being spotted. No one but a Stark could enter the crypts without permission from the Lord of Winterfell, in any case.

"This sneaking out habit of mine is going to bite me in the ass one day, I just know it" I whispered to the cold winds as I huddled in my fur cloak, hesitating before walking up to the ironwood door of the crypts. I knew it wasn't locked, thankfully.

Nerves clung to me, and I felt fear flash through me (because if this last hope is revealed to be false, I may just lay down and die)

"Craven!"

I growled as best as I could and steeled myself. My mother didn't raise a coward, and I refuse to let some old, failed relic brand me as one.

"For Robb" I whispered once more "For Robb and all the other children who'll never have full lives if the Great War isn't won."

I stepped forward…..

…. Only to choke on a scream as a hand clamped on my left shoulder.

I whirled around

"And just where" Alaric's face was twisted in unholy fury "Do you think you're going?!"

…"Balls."

***

A/N: The end draws near, my friends.

As you can see, our boy still has leftover PRSD - Post-Raven Stress Disorder.

One reminder before the next chapter ….. We do our level best not to overuse old tropes here, so whatever you're expecting…Well, wait and see

Next Chapter: The Boy Who Would Be King - Part 7