The Bastard's Fury
Third Person POV
Winterfell, 289 AC
At the tender age of five, Cregan Snow had devoured every book within Winterfell's library. His hunger for knowledge knew no bounds, and with each passing day, he found himself yearning for something more than the confines of the castle walls could offer. With a restless energy coursing through his veins, he sought out new avenues to explore, new challenges to conquer.
One such avenue presented itself in the form of the squires who trained within the castle grounds. Ranging in age from ten to fifteen, these boys were the future knights of Westeros, honing their skills under the watchful eye of Ser Rodrik Cassel, master-at-arms at Winterfell. Among them were five youngsters hailing from the south, none of them heirs to their respective houses, but rather sent to Winterfell to strengthen the bonds between the North and the Riverlands. "I heard their brothers" Cregan thinks.
As the day's training came to an end, Cregan observed from a distance, his eyes alight with curiosity as he watched the older boys practice their swordsmanship. With a sense of determination burning within him, he approached the training yard, his gaze fixed upon the discarded swords scattered across the ground.
Without hesitation, Cregan reached for one of the blades, the weight of it felt odd in his grasp as he attempted to mimic the movements of the older squires. His form was clumsy at first, his movements awkward and uncoordinated, but he persisted, determined to prove himself worthy of wielding a sword.
It was then that he caught the attention of the eldest, a boy named Darry Harroway, one of the riverland houses. With a sneer upon his lips, Darry strode over to confront the bastard, his eyes filled with contempt as he looked down upon Cregan.
Darry spat out his words, his voice dripping with disdain as he sneered, "And just what do you think you're doing, Snow? You're no knight's son, that's for sure. You don't belong here. The best you'll ever be is a mere levy. Go feed the pigs and shovel horse shit. That's where you truly belong."
Cregan bristled at the insult, his jaw clenched tight as he struggled to maintain his composure. But beneath the surface, a simmering rage threatened to boil over, fueled by years of pent-up frustration and resentment.
Ignoring Darry's taunts, Cregan focused his attention on the sword in his hand, his movements growing more fluid with each passing moment. But the southern boy was relentless in his assault, hurling insults and accusations at Cregan with reckless abandon.
"Your mother was nothing but a whore," Darry jeered, his words like daggers aimed at Cregan's heart. "You're not even Ned Stark's son. She used him to get rid of the shits she bore."
The words cut deep, slicing through Cregan's defenses like a knife through butter. But instead of succumbing to despair, a fire ignited within him, a burning rage that threatened to consume him whole.'I don't care about my dead mother, but I can't let this slide,' Cregan muttered to himself.
'I'll take the smallest one down with me,' Cregan says to himself. With a roar of defiance, Cregan launched himself at Lucas, his fists flying with ferocious intensity. Blow after blow rained down upon the southern boy, each punch fueled by years of hardship and scorn. Lucas staggered back and fell, his nose bloodied and broken, but still he refused to yield.
"How dare a bastard touch me!" Lucas bellowed, his voice reverberating off the walls of Winterfell. "I am Lucas Wode, of House Wode, and I refuse to be treated in such a manner by the offspring of a common whore!"
Cregan's lips twisted into a smirk as he retorted, "House Rods, huh? Quite proud of that, aren't you? Seems a bit odd, doesn't it? HAHAHAHA! But hey, I won't poke fun at your ancestors for their preferences. They had to seek amusement somehow, right? Is that why they sent you all the way up here? Searching for new rods, perhaps?Figured your mother couldn't find one that fit anymore, old and loose after some many had a go."
Enraged by his words, Darry and his brothers rushed forward, joining the fray with a savage fervor. They pinned Cregan to the ground, their fists raining down upon him like a hailstorm of pain. He fought back with all his might, but it was no use. They were too many, too strong, and bigger than him.
As the world blurred around him, Cregan felt himself sinking into darkness, his body battered and bruised, his spirit broken. But even in the depths of despair, a flicker of defiance remained, a spark of determination that refused to be extinguished.
"I'll cut their dicks off and feed them to the horses," Cregan muttered through gritted teeth, his voice laced with venomous rage. "Fucking shits."
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MC has 2 things that are special about him
1. he has a special body that if he trains enough he will have full control of his body. if u read nano machine think of it like that but he control the body not the nano.
2. he has a strong instinct that he follows. the reason his body grows is because his instinct controls the growth function because as a baby he wanted to grow faster.
Mc doesnt know this but as he trains with weapons his body will change to better suit this. he cant grow muscle out of thin air he will have to train n eat a lot.
I repeat MC doesnt know about any of them he will get an idea on his own as he gets older. think of it like a talent u have all of us have one but we just dont know what it is. I guess his is a skill lol.