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Chapter Text

"Unbelievable! First, they kill off Ser Barristan. Then they turn Bran into an apathetic sociopath, Daenerys into a deranged lunatic, and Jon into a complete idiot," a young man rants in his apartment as he re-watches the Game of Thrones finale.

"So much potential wasted. Jon was literally resurrected with magic, and they've barely mentioned it since. Damn, this is giving me a headache," he mutters, massaging his temples in frustration.

Fed up, he walks over to his PC, powers it on, and launches Skyrim.

His character is a level 121 Orc with every skill fully maxed out

*Yep that's Mine character level, anyway Just imagine  100  in everything*

'I wonder how different Game of Thrones would be if it had magic like Skyrim' the young man muses as he plays, his headache still pounding.

After fifteen more minutes of throbbing pain, he finally decides to go to bed, hoping sleep will make it go away.

He lies down, closes his eyes — and then, sees no more.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█ ________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

A bright light shows up, walking up the young man.
He looks around and finds himself in a vast, white space.
Suddenly, a white being with an outline of his body appears in front of him.

"Hi!" a distorted voice calls out.

"What... what are you? And where am I?" the young man stammers, nervously eyeing the white, shapeless figure before him.

"I go by many names" the being replies, its voice a strange mix of echoes and distortion. "Some call me God. Others, Truth. But that's not what's important right now."

The being's words hit Jonathan like a hammer, his pulse skyrocketing.

"Jonathan Clarkson... you've died. You passed away in your sleep due to a hemorrhagic stroke. The cause? The headaches you've been having these past few days." Truth explains, calm as ever, even as Jonathan's heart sinks.

Memories flood Jonathan's mind — the splitting headaches he brushed off, thinking they were nothing serious.

"Let's get down to business" Truth says, snapping its fingers. A massive wheel appears, floating in the endless white void.

Jonathan stares wide-eyed, reading some of the labels scattered across it.

"When someone dies," Truth begins, gesturing to the wheel, "their soul is weighed — their good and bad deeds tallied — to determine their afterlife. But there are exceptions. People like you... decent souls who've died before their time, whether by accident or, like in your case, an incurable illness. For you, the wheel activates."

They walk toward the wheel, its surface shimmering with names of worlds — some from books, others from movies, games, and shows.

"These souls are considered too 'green' for Heaven or Hell," Truth continues. "So, instead, they get a second chance... through reincarnation. I believe you humans have a few fanfics about this concept." A hint of amusement creeps into Truth's tone as Jonathan's jaw nearly hits the floor.

"You mean... I'll be reincarnated into another world?!" Jonathan blurts, momentarily forgetting that he's dead.

"Correct. Place your hands on the center of the wheel. It will weigh your soul, then spin to decide where you'll go."

Jonathan steps forward, places his hands on the glowing center, and immediately, a golden light surges from his body into the wheel. A soft chime echoes as the wheel unlocks.

Jonathan glances back at Truth, who nods in approval. Taking a deep breath, he spins the wheel.

As it spins, he catches glimpses of familiar names — worlds from books, video games, TV shows, and movies. Then... the wheel slows... and stops.

"Well, let's see..." Truth hums. "Congratulations. You'll be going to the Game of Thrones universe — the TV show version."

Jonathan freezes. His emotions clash — excitement and dread battling in his chest. Sure, it's his favorite show... but it's also a brutal, unforgiving world.

Before he can voice his concerns, the wheel pulses with light again.

"Now... it's time for your boon" Truth announces.

"W-What?" Jonathan stammers.

"When someone is reborn in another world, they receive a boon. The wheel weighs your soul and grants an appropriate gift — sometimes a power, sometimes a tool. It depends on both you and the wheel" Truth explains.

A sudden beam of brilliant light erupts from the wheel, engulfing Jonathan entirely.

"Aghhhh!!" he screams as the light sears through him — a pain that feels like his very soul is being rewritten.

And just as quickly... it's over.

Jonathan staggers, catching his breath. He glances down — his body looks different. Bulkier. Stronger. But more than that... there's something else.

Power. Pure, undeniable power surges through his veins.

Then it hits — a flood of knowledge slams into his brain.

Swordsmanship.

Magic.

Alchemy.

Smithing.

Speechcraft.

Shouts.

And more.

"What... what just happened?" Jonathan gasps.

Truth watches him with mild curiosity. "It appears the wheel has granted you the skills and abilities of the character you obsessed over in that Skyrim game."

Jonathan's eyes widen. "Y-You mean... I'm the Dragonborn? With all my character's abilities?"

Truth nods. "Exactly. Everything you spent hours grinding in that game — it's now yours."

Jonathan barely has time to process this when the wheel glows again. Another beam shoots out — this one burns even worse.

But now... he understands why.

His magical reserves are expanding at a staggering rate. In Skyrim, he could cast high-level spells maybe five or six times in a row. Now... it feels endless.

His mana feels like an ocean — vast, limitless, eternal.

Just as he's trying to process that, the wheel pulses again. But this time... it's different.

A bright red glow spreads across the wheel's surface. Then... something begins to emerge from it.

A floating black book appeared, its cover bound in shadows, and a glowing red gem embedded in its center pulsed ominously.

Before Jonathan could react, the book shot toward him like a bullet, striking him square in the chest — and vanished.

"W-What the hell was that?!" Jonathan shouted, panicked.

Truth remained silent, expressionless — until a wide grin slowly spread across his faceless visage, offering Jonathan no comfort at all.

"It appears you're more interesting than I initially thought," Truth said enigmatically.

"W-What?" Jonathan asked, thoroughly confused.

"Hush now! You're leaving — good luck!" Truth said, waving him off.

"W-Wait! How am I going to Game of Thrones? Will I be reincarnated or just thrown in?!" Jonathan pleaded.

Truth responded only with another unnervingly wide grin.

"That... would be a spoiler. Bye-bye!" he chimed, snapping his fingers.

Jonathan's form dissolved instantly into radiant light — and vanished from the white void.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█ ________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

End of Chapter
Yep another history that came to me while I was playing Skyrim and was reading some GOT fanfics
Hope you all liked, this is going to be part of my 'second hand' or 'secundary stories', my Main stories take priorities over this ones

Word Count: 1207

Also...... she tried to warn us

Chapter Text

“Has there been any change, Maester Luwin?” a heavily pregnant woman asked, her voice laced with worry as she glanced at the elderly man dressed in grey robes adorned with chains.

“I’m afraid not, my lady,” Maester Luwin replied with sorrow. “Young Jon shows no sign of waking.”

It had all begun shortly after Lord Stark called his banners to fight in the Ironborn Rebellion.

A pox epidemic swept through Wintertown and Winterfell, merciless in its spread.

The disease was lethal. Of all the victims, only one survived — Jon Snow, Lord Stark’s natural-born son.

But survival came at a cost. The poor boy had fallen into a deep, unresponsive sleep — and it had been nearly a month. Despite Maester Luwin’s best efforts, nothing had worked.

“Please... give me a moment alone, Maester,” Lady Stark said softly.

The old maester gave a respectful nod, bowed, and quietly left the room.

Left alone, Lady Catelyn stared at the unconscious seven-year-old boy. His soft, steady breathing was the only sound in the chamber.

“At first...” she whispered, voice trembling, “I feared you would harm Robb... or one day usurp him. But now... now I see how blind I’ve been.” Her lips curled into a bitter, regretful smile.

“Robb has been pestering every servant for news about you. He refuses to sleep, refuses his duties... until Maester Luwin assures him you’re okay. Even Sansa follows his example.”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

“Gods... I’ve been so blind. I let fear and anger twist my heart. I saw a motherless boy — one who only ever craved love — as a threat.” Tears welled in her eyes, her voice cracking. “I don’t know if you can hear me, Jon... but please, survive. For your father. For Robb. For Sansa. For... this little one.” Her hand gently cradled her swollen belly. “He deserves to meet you...”

Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to Jon’s forehead, lingering there for a moment before turning away. Her next destination: the Godswood.

But as she stepped into the corridor —

“Well, well... look what we have here,” a slimy, lecherous voice sneered.

Catelyn spun around — her blood turned to ice. Six men in mismatched armor stood before her, weapons drawn. Each bore the symbol of the kraken.

Ironborn... but how?! Catelyn’s mind raced, panic setting in.

“GUARDS!!” she screamed, desperation thick in her voice.

One of the raiders chuckled darkly. “Scream all you want, greenlander bitch. No one’s coming.” His wicked grin made her heart seize in terror.

She tried to run — but her swollen belly made that impossible. Her hands instinctively wrapped around her stomach, her terror no longer just for herself... but for her unborn child.

“Think I’ll make ya my salt wife,” the leader sneered, stepping forward. “But first... I’m gonna rip that brat right outta yer belly... and offer it to the Drowned God.”

He pulled out a crude, bloodstained butcher knife, delighting in the horror on her face.

'Please... Gods, Old and New... save my child...' Catelyn prayed, trembling.

— Swoosh.

The Ironborn froze mid-step. For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

Then, with a dull thud, the leader collapsed — dead.

A glowing, ethereal arrow — made of violet flame — was lodged in his forehead.

The remaining raiders spun toward the direction it had come from, weapons raised — but what they saw made them falter.

Catelyn gasped — her fear melting into shock, confusion... and overwhelming relief.

Standing there, bow in hand — a bow forged from purple, flickering flame — was Jon. Awake. Alive

“Get away from her!” Jon roared, his voice echoing with raw fury and an unnatural power that made the air itself tremble.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█ __________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

5 minutes before:
Jon POV:

“WAIT! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY SPOILER?!” Jon shouted as his body was blasted away, hurtling toward his new world.

The transition felt... surreal. Like free-falling without a rope while tripping on acid — disorienting, overwhelming, his mind barely able to comprehend the experience.

Then... the memories began.

Foreign memories, unfamiliar yet suddenly his.

Memories of being seven-year-old Jon Snow.
Memories of playing and studying with Robb.
Training under Ser Rodrik.
Crying at night, longing for a mother he never knew.
Saying goodbye to his father — no, uncle — as he rode off to war a month ago.
And... the most recent memory: falling sick with the pox. Fever. Pain. Darkness.

Slowly, awareness returned. I felt myself lying down — on Jon’s bed — listening to Lady Stark’s voice as it filtered through the haze.

“...I don’t know if you can hear me, Jon... but please survive. For your father. For Robb. For Sansa. And... for this little one.” Her hand must’ve brushed her belly. “He deserves to meet you...”

She pressed a kiss to my forehead... and left.

...Wow. Didn’t see that coming.

I’d always believed that if Catelyn knew the truth about Jon’s parentage in the show, she might have treated him better. But... maybe it was more complicated than that.

A few minutes passed before I could move. My limbs felt stiff, sore from lying still for so long. Groaning, I sat up, stretched, and reached for a cup of water on the nearby table.

Let’s fix this...

Closing my eyes, I focused. The muscle memory of magic came naturally now. A soft warmth gathered in my palms. Opening my eyes, I watched as two miniature golden suns — spheres of healing magic — formed above my hands.

Without hesitation, I cast. A wave of golden energy surged through me. Ache faded. Fatigue vanished. Tension melted from every joint and muscle.

The glow faded.

“...Wow,” I muttered, collapsing back onto the bed. “Now... what the hell do I do?”

— “GUARDS!!”

Lady Stark’s scream echoed through the corridor, sharp with panic.

Instinct kicked in. I bolted out of the room, sprinting toward the voice. Turning the corner, I skidded to a halt.

Ironborn.

Six of them. In Winterfell. Armed. Surrounding Lady Stark.

This... this didn’t happen in the show. Did my reincarnation cause this?

No time to think.

One of them — the leader — advanced toward Lady Stark, a butcher’s knife drawn, grinning like the worst kind of nightmare.

No weapons... but... I grinned. A hundred in Conjuration fixes that.

I summoned the Bound Bow instantly. Purple, ethereal energy flared as a Daedric-styled bow appeared in my hands, a matching quiver on my back.

I didn’t hesitate. Drew. Aimed. Fired.

The arrow sailed through the air and struck the Ironborn leader right in the back of the skull — clean kill.

Bullseye.

Lady Stark’s wide, terrified eyes flicked from the corpse to me.

By the new memories... she must be pregnant with Arya right now. These bastards threatened my little sister before she was even born.

My blood boiled. Rage unlike anything I’d ever felt surged through me — a mix of the infamous Wolf Blood... and perhaps my Orc racial Berserker Rage.

“Get away from her!” I bellowed, my voice thundering down the corridor. The sheer force made the Ironborn flinch.

I loosed another arrow. It pierced straight through an Ironborn’s steel helmet like it was made of paper — dropped him instantly.

The remaining four snapped from their shock, turning on me with murderous rage.

“I’LL EAT YOUR HEART, BOY!!” one screamed, charging with a sword raised.

I dismissed the bow mid-run and summoned a Bound Sword in my right hand and Sparks in my left.

His sword came down. I sidestepped, quick as thought, and drove my Daedric blade clean through his neck. His head lolled before he hit the ground.

Without pausing, I raised my left hand and unleashed Sparks, sending arcs of lightning into the last three.

“ARGH!!”
“DROWNED GOD, HELP U—”
“NOOO—”

Their screams were brief. Flesh charred, bones blackened — and in seconds, they collapsed into smoking piles of ash.

Damn... I thought it would just hurt like in Skyrim. Guess it makes sense — being electrocuted in real life would do more than shave off health bars.

“J-Jon...?” Lady Stark’s whisper pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Lady Stark!” I rushed to her, stepping over the smoldering corpses. She flinched but didn’t retreat.

Her heartbeat’s pounding... Not good for the baby.

“Breathe, Lady Stark. Deep breaths. You need to stay calm — for the baby.” I kept my voice as gentle as I could.

Her wide, panicked eyes met mine. I subtly cast a Calm spell, and the effect was immediate. Her shoulders relaxed, breathing evened out, and the terror in her gaze faded.

“Jon... how...?” she asked, utterly bewildered.

How I woke up? How I used magic? Or how I just reduced five men to ashes? Not even sure myself.

Then it hit me. I... I just killed someone. Killed... people. Even if they were Ironborn.

Nausea rose. The bile burned my throat. Vision blurred. I wobbled, about to collapse — but then I felt Lady Stark’s hand grab mine, steadying me.

Her worried eyes anchored me.

No... I can’t break now. I can’t leave a pregnant woman alone after what just happened.

I swallowed the bile back down. “Divine intervention, my lady... but we need to move. Quickly. There might be more.”

She nodded, squeezing my hand.

“Before we go,” I added, “I need to do something. It... might look strange. But I swear, I mean no harm to you or the baby.”

Her gaze tightened — hesitation, fear, conflict. A noble lady of the Seven. Bastards and magic were both sins in her eyes... and I was both.

But after a moment, her face softened. “I’ve known you since you were a babe, Jon. You’ve always been a good boy. Even after how I... treated you... you still saved me.” She gave me a small, wavering smile.

I smiled back, then bent down to retrieve the butcher’s knife from the first Ironborn. “Take this,” I offered it to her. “For protection.”

Her eyes widened but — to her credit — she took it without hesitation.

Together, we hurried through the shadowed halls of Winterfell.

Gods... the show really did a terrible job capturing how massive this place is.

The sky was already dark. The attack happened during the dead of night. No doubt meant to catch everyone while sleeping.

This didn’t happen in the show... Canon’s out the window now.

If they’ve touched Robb... or Sansa... Rage flared again. I will burn the Iron Islands to the ground.

As we neared the Great Hall, the sound of clashing steel and shouting grew louder.

Without thinking, I cast Detect Life. My vision flooded with red glowing silhouettes — every living being in the area, even through walls.

A cluster stood in the hall, weapons drawn, locked in combat.

We reached the entrance. The scene inside was chaos. Ironborn had cornered a group of guards.

Ser Rodrik, even in his old age, fought like a man possessed. Behind him, surrounded by a ring of guards, was Robb — terrified but alive.

Lady Stark gasped, nearly crying out her son’s name. I slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Stay quiet, my lady,” I whispered. “They can’t know you’re here. I’ll help... but you must stay hidden.”

She nodded quickly.

Alright... Twenty Ironborn. I’ve got surprise, magic, and a very pregnant woman to protect. They’ve got more numbers. Close... but not quite fair — for them.

Summoning magic into my hands, I cast Conjure Familiar a few meters away.

Expecting a simple wolf, I blinked in confusion — then alarm.

Wait... what the hell?

Instead of a regular wolf... a massive, ethereal direwolf appeared. Blue and white flames licked its spectral form, twice the size of any mundane wolf.

Both Lady Stark and I froze as the direwolf stepped toward us, its ethereal, flame-like form flickering with blue and white light.

The massive beast stared at me for a long, tense moment… then gently pressed its snout against my hand.

I let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Yeah... definitely need to test more spells later. No telling what other surprises are waiting.”

I glanced at Lady Stark, who was staring — wide-eyed — caught between disbelief, awe, and utter confusion.

“Protect her,” I commanded the direwolf.

The creature dipped its head in acknowledgment, padded over to Lady Stark, and nudged her softly. She stiffened but didn’t recoil, watching the spectral wolf like she wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

Not wasting time, I cast Conjure Familiar two more times. Once again, instead of regular wolves, two more massive ethereal direwolves emerged, their forms glowing faintly in the dim light.

Flanked by my summoned beasts, I strode confidently toward the Great Hall.

—WHISTLE!

A sharp, piercing whistle escaped my lips, cutting through the chaos inside the hall.

Every head turned.

The Ironborn froze. Some dropped their weapons in sheer shock at the sight of three enormous, growling direwolves. Jaws hung open. Eyes widened.

The guards — especially Ser Rodrik — instinctively stepped back, expressions caught between fear of the unnatural beasts and visible relief at seeing me.

Only one voice broke the stunned silence.

“JON!!!” Robb cried out, his face lighting up with joy, relief, and awe as he spotted me — awake, alive, and flanked by what looked like manifestations of Old Gods’ vengeance.

I smiled at the sight of my brother — or technically, my cousin — still a child, full of life.

Then I turned my gaze to the Ironborn, smirking — a cold, unsettling grin. Judging by the fear etched on more than a few faces, the effect was perfect.

I glanced at my direwolves, who were eagerly waiting for the command.

“Sic 'em, boys.”

The wolves lunged.

The first two Ironborn never even had time to scream. Their heads were ripped clean off, jaws crushing bone like twigs.

Panic exploded among the remaining raiders.

Their focus shifted entirely to the direwolves — a mistake. A huge mistake.

“ATTACK!!” Ser Rodrik bellowed, rallying the guards. Swords clashed, steel rang, and chaos consumed the room.

Perfect opportunity.

I dismissed the bow and summoned two Bound Swords, Daedric blades of violet flame flaring to life in both hands.

Leaping into the fray, I brought my right sword down in a vicious arc. It sliced clean through an Ironborn’s torso — a wet, messy cleave that left him crumpling instantly.

My instincts screamed — danger from behind. I spun, catching an overhead sword swing with my right blade.

Both the Ironborn and I froze. For a brief, surreal second, he stared — as if only just realizing a seven-year-old child had parried a full-grown man’s strike.

His hesitation was fatal.

I slashed with my left sword, severing his arm at the elbow. Blood sprayed, a hot red fountain. He collapsed to his knees, screaming.

I didn’t give him a chance to finish. My right blade drove straight through his face — bone, flesh, and brain splitting apart as I wrenched the sword free. His body fell limp at my feet.

My direwolves had already torn through half the Ironborn, and the guards weren’t far behind.

The Great Hall looked like a slaughterhouse.

Blood pooled across the stone floor, mixing with ash, steel, and the bodies of both Stark guards and Ironborn. The flickering torches and hearthlight cast dancing shadows across the carnage.

I scanned the room. Four Ironborn remained. Two were still engaged with the guards — clumsy, desperate, and clearly losing. The other two were locked in combat with Ser Rodrik and his men, who guarded Robb.

Then, out of nowhere, one of the Ironborn broke away from the fight. Screaming like a madman, he charged straight toward Robb.

The remaining Ironborn, sensing his intent, threw themselves at the guards. They were cut down immediately — but it was enough.

A breach opened in the protective circle around Robb.

The madman raised his sword overhead.

“DROWNED GOD, ACCEPT THIS SACRIF—”

His fanatic scream was abruptly cut short as one of my Bound Swords, launched with full force like a missile, slammed into his chest.

I’d expected it to spin through the air like in games, but instead, it flew perfectly straight — fast, precise, and brutal.

He was flung backward several meters, slammed into the wall, and was pinned there — the sword embedded through his chest.

Somehow, he was still alive — choking, bleeding, writhing against the weapon holding him aloft.

I walked toward him calmly.

Every eye in the hall followed my movement.

I stopped in front of him.

“W-What... ugh... are you?” he wheezed, barely holding on.

I met his eyes with calm finality.

“A bastard,” I replied coldly — then drew my second sword and swung.

His head fell clean from his shoulders.

The room fell into stunned silence.

The guards stared at me in awe and gratitude.
Robb looked on with pride and amazement.
Ser Rodrik offered a nod of deep respect.

The two remaining Ironborn — bloodied and broken — were trembling with fear.

I raised my sword and leveled it at them.

“Surrender,” I growled. “Throw your weapons down, and you’ll live. Otherwise, I’ll personally send you to your Drowned God.”

They hesitated for only a second before dropping their weapons.

The guards moved in quickly, binding them with rope and dragging the weapons away.

Robb, unable to hold himself back any longer, burst from behind Ser Rodrik and threw his arms around me in a fierce hug.

I was covered in blood and sweat, but he didn’t care.

I returned the hug just as tightly — carefully, though. I’d have to test the limits of this new strength later.

After a moment, we separated.

“Jon! How?! When did you wake up? Are you okay? Where did you learn to fight like that? And those swords?!” Robb asked breathlessly, excitement bursting from every word.

I laughed, clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe, Robb. I’ll explain later. But first...” I turned and glanced toward the door. “There’s someone who wants to see you.”

I looked to one of my direwolves and gave a nod.

The wolf howled.

A few seconds later, another direwolf entered the hall — this one beside a red-haired, visibly pregnant woman.

“Mother!” Robb cried, eyes wide, as he ran to her.

Lady Stark fell to her knees and pulled him into her arms, tears falling freely.

It was a beautiful scene — warm, healing, hopeful.

But it wasn’t over yet.

“Ser Rodrik,” I said, drawing his attention. “We need to sound the alarm. There could be more Ironborn in the castle. And we haven’t found Sansa yet.”

“Yes, my lord!” he said instantly — and I blinked in surprise.

'My lord?'

He started issuing orders, but most of the guards were wounded or exhausted. If they found more enemies, they might not be able to fight.

“Wait!” I called out. “Many of you are hurt or tired. Let me help.”

The guards looked at me in confusion.

“How, my lord?” one of them asked. Again with the lord thing — but honestly, I got it. If someone saved me with magical swords and spirit direwolves, I’d probably throw in a few “sirs” myself.

I grinned. “With magic, of course.”

I summoned Healing Hands, and with both palms outstretched in a double-casting motion — like a golden Kamehameha — I directed the beam toward the injured men.

In Skyrim, two-handed casting boosts a spell’s effectiveness. But in this world?

The results were staggering.

“BY THE OLD GODS!”
“THE PAIN IS GONE!”
“I CAN STAND AGAIN!”
“BY ALL THE OLD AND NEW!”

Their recent wounds closed up. Fatigue vanished. Even old injuries and scars disappeared like they’d never existed.

I stopped casting and looked at them.

I nearly dropped my jaw.

Some of the older guards — once hunched, wrinkled, stiff — now stood tall and strong.

Ser Rodrik...

His white hair had turned mostly black again. His posture was straight. His face had lost decades of age.

The man looked fifty, tops.

Okay, definitely need to test more spells. This isn’t just Skyrim magic — it’s something far stronger.

'Imagine Firestorm. Or Blizzard...' I shuddered.

I noticed the looks I was getting — awe, disbelief... reverence.

Even Lady Stark’s expression had shifted. She looked at me like I was something divine.

Robb, of course, was practically bouncing with excitement.

“You have magic?! Jon, since when?!”

“Honestly?” I said with a smirk. “About... thirty minutes ago.”

I conjured two more magical direwolves, and the crowd gasped.

The sigil of House Stark, come to life.

The five spectral wolves gathered around, awaiting orders.

“You three,” I pointed. “Join the guards and hunt down any Ironborn still hiding.”

They howled and ran to Ser Rodrik’s side.

“You two — stay here. Protect Lady Stark and Robb. If anyone suspicious gets close, kill them.”

They took position beside the Starks, one wagging its tail happily as Robb scratched its head with childlike wonder.

“Alright, let’s go!” I said, moving to join the guards.

A few men stayed behind to watch the prisoners. I paused.

Better safe than sorry.

I cast Paralyze on both Ironborn captives.

They froze mid-movement, suspended like statues. Even their breathing barely registered.

The guards looked at me.

“Just making sure they don’t try anything,” I explained.

Nods of gratitude followed.

Before I could head out—

“Jon! You can’t go — it’s dangerous!” Robb said, stepping forward.

Even Lady Stark looked hesitant.

I placed a hand on Robb’s shoulder.

“I have to find Sansa. But you — you need to stay here and protect your mother. She’s carrying our little sister, Robb. Protect them both.”

Robb’s eyes widened, and then — to my surprise — so did Lady Stark’s.

“J-Jon... you said... sister?” she whispered, stunned.

I nodded, offering her a small smile. She returned it, hand resting gently on her belly.

I turned to Robb again.

The Starks are magical — at least in this world. Warging, green dreams... Could they learn Tamrielic magic too?

Why not try?

I conjured another Bound Sword and held it out to Robb, offering the pommel.

His eyes widened in disbelief. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out.

The sword didn’t reject him.

He took it — and gasped. “It’s warm!”

Good. That means it accepted him.

“Well, Ser Robb,” I said with mock pomp, “you now have a sword, a lady, and a princess to protect.”

He rolled his eyes — then hugged me tight.

“Come back safe, brother.”

“I will.”

Then, to everyone’s shock — especially mine — Lady Stark pulled me into a tight embrace.

The hall went silent.

I awkwardly returned the hug. Her feelings were genuine, but Jon’s memories made it... complicated.

“Come back to us, Jon,” she whispered, voice full of regret and gratitude.

“I will, my lady.”

With one last nod, I turned — and followed Ser Rodrik into the shadows of the keep.

Time to hunt.

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It was in the North’s most dire hour that Jon began his work.

Once regarded as a shy and quiet child, everything changed after his near-death experience. Struck down by a pox that left him in a deep coma, nothing — no treatment, no prayer — could stir him.

The common folk say it was the Old Gods who intervened, imbuing Jon with ancient magic and sending him back to protect the North — and the Stark bloodline.

When asked how he had awakened, Jon simply told Lady Stark: “Divine interference.”

That single phrase only fanned the flames of legend.

This moment marked the beginning of what history would later call “The Betterment of the North” — a vast, transformative project led by Jon that would span years, reshape kingdoms, and elevate the North beyond anything it had ever been.

— Fragment from The Tales of the Northern Sorcerer by Arch-Professor Harald Arvid

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Spells Used in This Chapter:

🔱 Bound Bow

Description:
Summons an ethereal Daedric-style bow along with a full quiver of equally ethereal arrows.
Effect:
The summoned weapon is weightless, silent, and incredibly powerful, capable of piercing armor and striking with supernatural precision. It remains active until dismissed or replaced.

✨ Healing

Description:
A basic Restoration spell that channels inner magic to close minor wounds and relieve light fatigue.
Effect:
Primarily self-targeted, this spell rapidly restores physical energy and mends non-lethal injuries.

⚡ Sparks

Description:
A Novice-level Destruction spell that emits a continuous stream of electrical energy from the caster’s hand.
Effect:
Deals shock damage over time and may interfere with the target’s magical reserves. In this world, it has far more devastating, real-world consequences — enough to reduce enemies to ash.

🧘‍♂️ Calm

Description:
A light-level Illusion spell that immediately soothes the emotions of the target.
Effect:
It suppresses panic, rage, or aggression, inducing a sense of peace and emotional balance. Perfect for defusing tense or traumatic situations.

👁️ Detect Life

Description:
A sensory-enhancing spell that reveals nearby living beings.
Effect:
All nearby life forms — friend or foe — appear as glowing outlines through walls and obstacles, allowing for strategic advantage in search or combat scenarios.

🐺 Conjure Familiar

Description:
Summons a spectral animal ally to fight or protect at the caster’s command.
Effect:
In this chapter, the spell summoned ethereal direwolves — larger and more powerful than the typical Skyrim wolf familiar — likely due to Jon’s unique magical affinity.

⚔️ Bound Sword

Description:
Conjures an ethereal Daedric-style sword into the caster’s hand.
Effect:
Weightless, razor-sharp, and infused with magical energy, this sword can cut through steel with ease. Perfect for close-quarters combat.

👐 Healing Hands

Description:
A Restoration spell that projects a beam of healing energy from the caster’s hands.
Effect:
Unlike the self-targeted Healing spell, this spell can be used to heal others. When dual-cast in this world, it has been shown to reverse aging effects and completely regenerate injuries.

🧊 Paralyze

Description:
A high-level Alteration spell that renders the target completely immobile.
Effect:
The target is frozen in place, unable to move, attack, or defend. Though conscious, they are suspended in a rigid, statue-like state. The spell’s effect fades over time or can be dispelled

End of Chapter

Winterfell has been attacked, the canon is out of the window now
I always like to change things up a little bit
Hope you liked
Please vote and comment!

Word Count: 4544

Chapter Text

Winterfell
Hour of the Wolf

Me and Ser Rodrik and the guards made our way to Winterfell residential quarters, where the Starks reside looking for Sansa

I really need to find Sansa, the plot is basically nothing now, so everybody is in danger

We made pass Lord and Lady Stark quarters and saw a bunch of Ironborns trying to break the door and screams of panic coming from inside the room

And one of the screams is familiar, really familiar

Me and the guards hide from their view

"Damn Ironborns!" A Guard growl next to me as we catch sight of the fallen corpses of Stark guards and servants, the Guard raise his sword and prepares to attack but I stop him before he can reveal our position

"Wait! I know that they deserve to die but we can let of feelings cloud our minds right now, we need to be smarted, so  calm yourself!" I whisper to the guard, already with a Calm spell ready to cast

The Guard looks like he want to be rebuff me but nods and calm down

I look at the ironborns and a plan come to mind

"Ser Rodrik!" I call out the Knight, who looks at me in attention and respect
"I will drag their attention to other side of the room, I need all of you to move in silent and form a perimeter around the room, then when the bodies start to drop, you all attack them!" I explain my plan to them

For more that we have almost the same number of men we are still in a tight hallway, which would make the fight difficult and tight, this way we can secure Sansa and attack The ironborns better

Ser Rodrik and the guards nod at my plan

" But lad, How are you going to pass by them without being spotted?" One of the not so Old guards anymore ask me

I give him a smirk and cast Invisibility on my self
As I dissaparaed from the view, drawing looks of shock and a few choke gasp from The Guards

"Remember wait until the bodies start to drop" my Voice rangs out in the air

Then I made my way through, being invisible is like being shroud with a a hoodie or a raincoat but magical

Ever since I got here I didn't use a Shout, I don't know what may happen If I use something as powerfull as The Voice here

Hiding under my Invisibility
I aproach the ironborns

"You all best came out right now and we will quick or we will get angry, very angry" the ironborn closest to the doors says while trying to scary them

And I hear some fright gasp and some feminine screams coming from the inside, one with a familiar voice that I know
Sansa voice

Gods.... I will rip every single one of them alive for threathing my sister

*I move behind an unsuspecting ironborn and plung an invisible Bound Dagger right through his heart while silencing his mouth
I don't know if this coming from having mastered Stealth or my characther being from The Dark Brotherhood but I know exactly where to strike for a clean and quick kill or slow and messy one

He went limp in my arms, I kind expected my invisibility to go away but thankfully it didn't

I drag the body a few meters from them and drop on the ground slowly
I make my way to another ironborn and repeat the process

"Wait! Where is Jan and Buir!?" Another ironborn shouts as he notices the missing men
This started all of the ironborns who got in defense and alert

'Okay time to speed things up!' I think to myself as I move on with the plan

I quickly position myself across them and dispel my Invisibility
My sudden appearance in the hall drew their attention 

"HEY BUNCH OF BASTARDS!!" My shout cuts through the night, the ironborns look at me in surprise and malice at my sudden appearance out If you know where

"You guys drop like flies but what can I expect from a bunch of glorified pirates!" I mock then while pointing to their two fallen comrades

I can see that my words enrage them, more especially after they see the bodies but the Man who noticed their dissaperance is glaring at me in pure Hate

'Probably a brother or cousin of the departed' I think to myself

"YOU BASTARD!!! KILL HIM" The Ironborn order his men in rage

All of the Ironborn charge at me together
A quick assement of them tells me that only 3 of 8 of them have at least some form of martial training

The rest fight the Ironborn way
Which is just a nice way to say that they have no fucking idea of ​​how to properly fight and have the 'stab till death' approach

I almost feel sorry for them
Almost

I conjure Frostbite on my left hand and cast it at the ground next to them
A torrent of white cold smoke comes out of my hand

Hitting the ground and freezing it, creating a layer of ice on it

The Ironborn tried to stop after seeing my feat of magic but they were already falling, literally, because of the ice on the ground
They start stumbling their way towards me and I am ready for them

The first man tries to stab me with a knife but he was still unbalanced because of the ice
I dodge his blow and swing my dagger across his neck

My Bound Dagger cut through him like a hot knife on butter
He falls to the ground holding his own throat and bleeding out

"Next!" I call out the Ironborn

"Bastard!"
"Sorcerer!!"
"Monster!!!"

'They are easy to rile up' I think

This time three of them come at once

I throw my Dagger at first one, hitting him in the middle of the forehead, killing him instantly

The other two freeze in surprise and stumble on each other which gives an idea

I conjure Ice Spike on my hands and I cast at them

A large spike, made of completely blue ice is launched from hand, flies through air like a javelin and pierces through both Ironborn before hitting the ground and shattering into dust

'Holy fuck....I fucking love Magic!' I think

The Looks of hatred that the Ironborn were sending me are replaced by a fearfull one

I think anyone would feel fear after seeing two people being impaled by a magical ice spike conjured by a seven year old

I can see that some of them want to flee back
Thankfully Ser Rodrik and The Guards are already prepared for that

They form a wall of shields behind the Ironborns, protecting Sansa room from them and cutting a way out for the Ironborns

The four remaning Ironborn see to realize that as well
On their left is a wall of swords made by guards glaring down at them
And on their right is a demonic child who killed 6 of them without breaking a sweat
Things weren't good for them

I clap my hands together, drawing everyone's attention to me

"Listen up! I will only say this once, lay down your weapons and surrender and you will be allowed to take the Black or you will die where You Stand!!" I snarl at them, my voice sounding like a thunder on the air

I have noticed that my voice was firm and when I am emotional my voice would carry power on it, This is the power of The Voice?

On Skyrim, Ulfric had ripped the High King using only The Voice
The Greybeards couldn't even talk because of how powerfull their voice was
It was stated that a whisper of Greybeard is enough to atomize a man

And the Dragonborn aka me, can learn and use The Voice easily
But here in Westeros my magic is extremely overpowered to the max
And I bet The Voice as well

So I am basically an Overpowered Dragon like Black Bolt with the knowlodge of every single Shout that Skyrim had

Just Dandy
If I accidently use a Fus Roh Dah I might change the entire landscape

Enough for now

I focus back on the Ironborns throwing their weapons on the ground and kicking towards the guards

I smile at that
'100 Speech is always handy to have'

I use Paralyze and cast on the Ironborns
The Guards come and bound them in rope in a very unfriendly way
But I couldn't bring myself to care

I have more important things to do

I approached Sansa room, with senses I could hear sobs coming from inside

"Sansa" I call out to her

I hear the sobs stop inside

"J-Jon?" I hear her whisper

"Sansa it's me Jon, I woke up" I tell her

I hear running but also a scruffle

"C-Calm down Lady Sansa, its the Ironborn, they are trying to trick us" A man, Probably a guard stop her

Fuck how to convince them?

"Roger is that you lad?!" Ser Rodrik again save the day

"S-Ser Rodrik?! The Guard asks in surprise but also suspicion

"It's me Lad" Ser Rodrik

"Tell me something only he would know!" The Guard demands

Smart
Even Ser Rodrik nod in approval at Guard request

"You leave your left side more open in combat and no matter how much I try to beat that out of you but Maisie probably keeps pampering you every time" Ser Rodrik tells the Guard with a small smile on his lips

"Ser Rodrik!" The Guard exclaims in Relief and happiness

Then We hear the sound of stuff being  moving from the door
They probably pushed the furniture against the door

Then the door opens

Roger was dressed in normal Stark Guards uniform but he looked worse for wear, there were cuts and blood on them

His tired expression brightens immediately when he sets eyes on Ser Rodrik

Ser Rodrik clamps the man in handshake

"How-"
"JON!!!" Anything that Ser Rodrik was going to say was interrupted by Sansa practically flying to my arms

I hug her back just as fierce
I feel my shirt getting wet from her tears

I end the hug and look at the face of my little sister
And a younger and crying face of Sophie Turner look back at me

"Hi little wolf!" I say to her, causing a large smile to appear on her face and she gives me another hug

After a few seconds we separate but she didn't release the hold on my hand

I look around the room where they were barricaded, I see the large bed and the wardrobe that were used to block the door

I also see Jeyne Poole, Sansa bestfriend was also there, the poor thing was shaking like a leaf

I walk up to her and put my hand on her shoulder, casting a discreet Calm Spell on her, she flinches but calm down instantly

"You are safe now Jeyne, no one is going to hurt you" I tell the little girl, Sansa also joins in calming her

I scan the rest of the room and see Ser Rodrik and The Guard talking and comforting a downed guard on the ground

The guard is very hurtful and is laying on a pool of his own blood

'This man just risked his own life to save two little girls and now is dying in pain, Hell no!' I think

I walk up to them with Healing Hands already ready on my hands

"Move!" I tell them

The Guard look confused and surprised at me and probably my Golden glowing hands
Ser Rodrik widen his eyes and quickly pull the guards away with him

I put my hands together and released a beam of Golden Light right at fallen Guard

A golden glow engulfs him completely
He was extremely hurt and almost dying and if my 100 in Restoration doesn't lie to me, it would take at least 6 to 7 hours of casting the spell to stabilize him as I am using one of the most simple healing spells to heal a person

But I am now a dude reincarnated with the powers of Demi-draconic God with an extremely boosted magic
So I hope 1 minute is going to be enough

After a minute I stop casting the spell the golden glow disappears and I look at the fallen guard

Every wound is gone, the large cut on His side is completely gone, not even a scar was left

The poor guard was looking at his side in disbelief, the dude even poked to see if it was real

Everyone look at me in awe
But no one look the most as Sansa
Her eyes were full of awesome at me

Okay now to more important things

"Ser Rodrik!" I call out to him

That snap everybody from their shock

"Yes Jon?!" Ser Rodrik promptly ask looking me in awe and respect

"I want you to escort Sansa back to Lady Stark" I say to him and he nods in affirmation

However

"No! D-Don't leave me Jon!' Poor Sansa   cries breaking my heart a little at how she sounds

I promise that you will never suffer anything even remotely from what her other version suffered

Killlist: Euron Greyjoy, LittleFinger.....and more people
I guess me and Arya are going to be very much alike

I put my hands or her cute little cheeks and give her reassuring smile

"Don't worry little wolf, I will not let anything happen to you and I think you will love your mount, after all I can't leave my little sister to walk on the cold floor" I tell her and see her face crunch in a cute confusion expression

I grab her and put her on my shoulders and start to walk out of the room
She squeaks in surprise at my strength that surpasses an 8 year old

I bet we look funny 8 years old with 4 years old, we barely reach 50 inches

I conjure Conjure Familiar  on my hands and cast on the ground

Again a massive Direwolf appears in front
I hear Sansa and the others gasp in surprise, some of the guards tried to draw their swords but Ser Rodrik calms them down

Sansa looks at the wolf in awe and a bit fear

"It's okay Sansa, he won't hurt you" I reassures her

The wolf approaches us and licks me and Sansa and starts to wag his tail

Sansa giggles at the wolf ministration

I give the wolf a sign to stand up and he does before lay down on the ground

I really didn't truly realize how big a Direwolf is, I know I am an 8 year old but he looks bigger than an Ardennes horse
Even now laying on the ground he has my height

"You mount my lady!" I say while taking Sansa off my shoulders and putting her on the Direwolf back

Sansa yeps at the sudden movement but looks and touches the direwolf in awe

I look back at Jeyne and also pick her up, she squeaks and before she can try to stop I put her on the Direwolf

I signal and the Direwolf stands up drawing suprised and Jeyne case Frightened gasp from the two

I turn to Ser Rodrik
"Ser Rodrik pleases can you escort back the little ones to Lady Stark" I say to him

He gives me an affirmative nod

"B-But Jon where are g-going?" Sansa say while trying to find a good position on the Direwolf while Jeyne was pulling her together in fear of the Direwolf

Before I can say anything the alarm bells which have been used for years bellow out

I look at Ser Rodrik and he nods
I look at Sansa and give her a tight smile

"They attacked our home Sansa, so I will show them what happens when you attack a wolf den" I say to her begofe giving Ser Rodrik a nod and a kiss Sansa on the cheek

'Time to hunt Ironborns'

▁▂▄▅▆▇█__________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

Wintertown
Hour of The Wolf
Third person POV:

! !! BOONG CLAANG!!!
!!!BOONG CLAANG!!!

The bell bellowing was the first thing that those who lived in Wintertown heard in the middle of the night, followed by

"IRONBORN!!"

Then it was completely chaos, the ironborns started to butcher their way on the city, killing, raping and pillaging

A couple of patrol guards were fighting them but because all the most fighting man had gone to war they were in disvantages

The Ironborns had sailed and landed on Sea Dragon Point and had traveled on foot by the Wolfwood, covering their tracks and attacking at the moment when everyone would be at their defenseless moment

These attack was ordered by Balon Greyjoy but it was envisioned by Euron greyjoy, who now stands watching with glee as his men were tearing thorugh the people protected by the Starks

He was hoping to join the ''Celebrations'' but he still didn't receive the signal from his men who were infiltrating Winterfell
as the castle was completely closed off
They were task to capture or kill the Starks but he was hoping that they had captured Them, the boys were going to be killed
But the women
Ohh They will be put to throught another 'ordeal'
But it looks like it had failed and a siege is going to take place

"Uncle! when are we going to join the raid of Winterfell?!" The impatient voice of Maron Greyjoy, Balon greyjoy son and nephew of Euron breaks him out of his thoughts, as the boy was greedily eyeing Winterfell

Euron roll his eye, his nephew has been getting on his nerves ever since Balon forced him to take the boy on the trip

'At least Balon have other sons, so one less isn't going to be a problem' Euron Thinks maliciously

"Until we have the signal we won't go to Winterfell!" Euron barks angrily at Maron

"But Uncle-"

!!!!HOOOOOWLLL!!!

Every single soul on Wintertown froze when they heard those howls
They heard at least a dozen different howls, all loud and powerful, all coming from Winterfell

Before they could theorize why, The Gate that was closed stopping The Ironborn from siezing Winterfell suddenly open
Before any Ironbron could try to pass or shout in glee at the gate finally open

Dozens of Gigantic Ethereals Direwolves start to run out of the gate

Ripping through every Ironborn on the way

Their claws and fangs ripping with ease the armor of the few Ironborn who were wearing

Was right there that Euron saw a vision that is going to be forever ingrained on his mind

A boy, with features of Stark, riding atop of a Direwolf while wielding a Purple Ethereal Greatsworf cutting heads easily

"A-AT ARMS YOU FOOLS!!!" Euron shout at his men trying to rally them up against the wolves but what happens next broke any type of power he had over his troops

The boy at the top of the Direwolf extends his hands and a being made of lighting and rock materializes out of thin air

Its body was made of black and rocky stones but had lighting running through it
Didn't have a face but was glaring down at down with the power of a storm

The Storm God

The Storm God was here
Somehow the Stark boy summoned him to kill them

"THE STORM GOD!!" A Ironborn shouted in fear

"HELP US DROWE-ARGH!!"

!!!KRAKROMM!!

The Ironborn was interrupted when bolts of lighting that sounded like Thunders cut through Ironborns like a hot knife on butter

A single bolt of lighting would kill at 5 Ironborn every time
Those who lucky enough to be missed by the bolts were killed by the Direwolf

A couple of Ironborn had start to fire arrow at the Storm God but the arrow just bumped on his rocky skin harmsely

As if the boy was punish them for trying to retalieate the Boy summoned another Storm God

The two start to raing down lighting together on the Ironborns

"U-Uncle w-what are we g-going to do" Maron ask his Uncle fearfully as their men around them all die mercilessy

"I know what I am going to do!" Euron tell his nephew, who look at him

Euron then grab his nephew and push him in front of himself, making Maron being a victim of a Direwolf who was coming for Euron

Euron then start to run like a bat out of hell, the screams that originally belong to his victims now belonging to his men
Euron didn't even dare to look back as he run in direction of the forest

"Going so soon?" A powerfull voice cut throughthe chaos stoping Euron dead on his tracks

He look back and see that Stark boy look down on him from the top of his wolf

"The mighty Euron Greyjoy, running with his tail between his legs, I can't say I am suprise, after all Greyjoy isn't name know for its courage" Jon mocks him before climbing down of his wolf

This infuriates Euron beyomd reason
If he is going to die he is going to take the boy down

He pulls put his sword and run to the boy

"AAARRGGHHH!- Euron bellow a battlecry and swings it but in feat of speed dodge to the side while carry his longsword

But then suddenly the world was spinning to Euron very fast
Euron falls to ground

He feels lighter than before , he rolls slowly and see the boy standing over a headless body

'What? How?' Thats is the last thought  of Euron Greyjoy

Euron Greyjoy died as he lives worthlessy

But at least his body woud be usefull as a warning

Then Jon turn back to the fight.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█__________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

During on what has been called the shack of Wintertown, Jon Snow appeared out of Winterfell with a Army of Direwolfs and two Storm Atronach which the invaders mistaked for The Storm God

A God know on Ironborn beliefs that is the sworn enemy of their 'Drowned God'
The invaders even with having the numerous advantage of 800 men were completly annihilated by the summons of Jon Snow

Aftee the battle Jon personally impaled the body of every single one of the Invaders using Ice Stakes, including the body of Euron and Maron Greyjoy

This earnes two of Jon most famous monikers

The Bloody Wolf  and  The Impaler

Fragment of The End of House Greyjoy by Professor William Kolvir

▁▂▄▅▆▇█__________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

Spells used on this Chapter:

Frostbite: When cast, a continuous stream of Cold is send from the caster hand to any target It's aimed at.

Ice Spike : launch a deadly spike made of ice magic at the direction of the caster choice

Calm: Calm is an light level Illusion spell that reduces the target panic or anger, having a instantly calmly effect on the target.

Conjure Familiar:  Summons Etheral wolfs that follow the Caster commands

Bound Dagger: Summon a Ethereal Daedric dagger

Bound Greatsword: Summom a Ethereal Daedric Greatsword

Paralyze: Completely paralyzes the target hit by the Caster

Conjure Storm Atronach: Summon a being formed out of lighting and rocks named Storm atronach that follows the Caster commands

▁▂▄▅▆▇█__________█▇▆▅▄▂▁

Hi guys! I finally manage to finish this Chapter
I really liked how it turned out
Hope you all like as well
Please vote and comment

Word count:  39 40

Chapter Text

Wintertown
Dawn
Jon POV:

"There! All done!" I say after finishing my work.

Which was impaling all of the Ironborn bodies on Ice Stakes along the coast of Wintertown, I know this is extremely fucked up, but I need to send a message.

'You try to fuck with my family, you will end up like this.'

'I will need to burn the bodies later; I don't want diseases to spread by it.' I plan to later while making my way back home.

I mount my familiar and run back to Winterfell. As I make my way back, I pass through Wintertown; I see everyone working together, rebuilding houses and cleaning after the attack.

I had spent quite some time healing everyone, cuts, broken bones, and more.
Even healed and helped some women whom the ironborn had hurt.
I use both my strong healing spells and illusion spells to help them.

Healing Hands and Calm, Courage and Harmony in succession
I couldn't save them, but I sure as hell will help them not suffer.

They stop working and start to look at me. They all look at me in awe, thankfulness, and... reverence.

'Okay, let's go home before they start to call me Lisan al Gaib,' I think, before speeding up and arriving at the gates of Winterfell.
The gate quickly opened to me, and as I strode inside, I saw Lady Stark and Robb waiting for me with Ser Rodrik standing guard.
Robb was standing impatiently waiting; he is still carrying the Bound Sword I had given to him.

"JON!" Robb excitedly shouts and runs to me.

I quickly dismount my familiar and hug Robb as he launches himself into me.

"Hey Robb!" I greet my brother; it must look like a really funny image: two seven- and eight-year-olds hugging, one with a magic, ethereal sword in hand while a gigantic, ethereal direwolf stands behind.

"Jon! I heard the guards talking about you; you saved Wintertown and fought the Ironborn; everyone is talking about you!" Robb tells me enthusiastically while Lady Stark and Ser Rodrik

"Jon! You have returned!" Lady Stark suddenly hugs me. Robb and Ser Rodrik look at it in surprise at her hugging me.

'Yep, still weird!' I think while the heavily pregnant woman hugs me tightly, I give her a couple of pats on the back.

Lady Stark finally released me and calmed down.

'I guess the pregnancy hormones must be like fucking train,' I think to myself.

"I have finished putting our warning on the coast; I wouldn't recommend looking; it is a very...disturbing view but necessary," I tell them.

Lady Stark and Ser Rodrik nod at that, although Lady Stark looks a bit green while Ser Rodrik has a cold, determined look on his face.

Never in the story of Winterfell had the Ironborn managed to attack us, and they almost managed to win.
I can say with 100% certainty that the Canon is completely out of the window now.

Which scares the shit out of me because of my father/uncle.
In the original, he and the crown forces crush the Ironborns; now that may not happen.

I have to find a way to go to-

Squench!

My senses stop my thoughts cold. I look from where the sound came; I look to Lady Stark and see a large wet patch on her dress.

Okay......Arya is coming!
No panic!

"CALL LUDWIN NOW!!!" My voice thunders through the courtyard, even shaking the ground.

I move to the side of Lady Stark and start escorting her back inside, Robb quickly joining on her other side and Ser Rodrik on the back, hurriedly accompanying us.

Oh Arya! You are not even here yet and are already causing me stress.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█_____█▇▆▅▄▂▁

Lady Stark's Quarters
Jon POV:

"AAARGH!!" Catelym screams as a contraction happens; she also squeezes my hand with all her force.

If I didn't have my Dragonborn physique, I am pretty sure my arm would be paste by now.

"Where the hell is Ludwin!?" I shout out loud while assisting Lady Stark.

Thank The Gods 100 Restoration pretty much makes the magical version of Doctor House.

Well...if House uses magic to heal wounds

"H-He is still occupied with the injured and is coming, milord." A midwife nervously tells me

'Okay.....no panic, I can do this, I hope so.'

"She can't wait anymore, you! Get me a large basin of water and several clean towels!" I order the midwife.

"B-But Milord—"

"Don't you fucking argue with the boy that can conjure flames, women! Now go!!" I shout at the midwife; my voice made the entire room shake.

The midwife gasps but nods and hurriedly goes to get what I ask.
I then turn my attention to Lady Stark; she is completely soaked in sweat, her dress is completely soaked too, and the pelts underneath are mixed with a mix of sweat and blood.

I quickly conjure a small Bound Dagger in my hand and move closer to her.

"Lady Stark We need to remove your dress and change the roupa de cama; just relax, and everything will be fine." I calmly explain to her, and she nods; after all, this isn't her first rodeo.

I use my dagger and quickly make work of the dress, leaving Lady Stark only in her small clothes while the other 2 midwives change the bed.

I readjust her position on the bed and reexamine the situation.

'Medieval world so unsanitary issues are the norm, unwashed and unclean people that probably take baths sporadically, women giving birth on old beds with fur and pelts as a mattress, gods, the most safe thing she could get is an infection... time to be proactive!' I focus my resolve.

Then the midwife comes back carrying several towers with two guards carrying the basil.

'Right on time!' I take the basil off her hands and put it on a nearby table.

I conjure flames on my left hand, a tiny ball of fire floating between my fingers.

'I hope this doesn't burn much,' I hope before plunging my hand on the basil.
Didn't take a second before the water started bubbling and steaming, and thankfully I didn't feel anything, I think.

I guess if you mix half Targaryen with dragonborn, you get immunity to high temperatures.

After a few seconds to get the water as hot as possible, I take my hand off, dismiss the spell, grab as many clean towels as I can, and start to throw them on the basil.

'I need to clean her as much as possible to reduce any infection risk. Some spells can help with the pain and health, but it's still dangerous; she has gone through much stress lately.' I think while taking the towels off the basil and drying them up and putting them on the bed.
I then look at two nearby maids.

"You two! When the towels are less hot, I want you to clean Lady Stark, especially her private parts. Be mindful of the temperature!" I order them.

"Y-Yes, my lord." The older maid immediately croaks out and drags the other maid to the steaming towels.

I turn back to Lady Stark; she looks a bit better but too pale for my taste.
'Time to go all out.' I think, already summoning my magic.

I summon calm and healing hands and cast on her, and immediately I see an improvement; her color and breathing become better.

'Maybe it isn't enough.' I think to myself and hurriedly summon another two spells that I know.

Guardian Circle and Harmony
I don't know if these two can be dual cast, but I don't give a fuck right now.

I wave my hands upward and feel the spell explode out of me with a bright golden-green light.

I see the spells doing their work on everyone inside the room, everyone looking better, more focused, and with a tiny green glow.
I look back at Lady Stark and see her expression better, posture completely relaxed while breathing normally.

"How are you feeling, Lady Stark?" I ask the woman giving birth

The woman gives me a relaxed smile with relief in her eyes.

"It's wonderful, Jon. The pain has subsided, but I still feel the pain." She tells me with a small smile.

"How much time apart is the pain?" I ask her, as contractions aren't a very well-known fact here.

She frowns in thought.

"It comes in and goes in short times," she explains, making me nod.

"Lady Catelyn I need to examine you...down there," I say hesitantly, as it is weird as well.

She nods in permission.

I crouch down and look at her vagina, and I use my hand to measure her dilation.

'10 cm dilated; she can give birth any minute now.' I examine her and stand back up to look at her.

"Lady Stark, you are ready to push; are you ready?" I ask her.

She nods and gathers her strength.

"Okay, Push!" I order

"Hrrmph!!" Catelyn grunted in effort.

"Good! Very good! Take a deep breath and push!" I say

"Uuurgh! Umph!" She takes a deep breath and pushes again.

"Good! You are doing an amazing job, Lady Stark! I can see the head already, another big push!" I instruct her.

"YOU ARE NOT THE ONE PUSHING A BABE OUT!!" Catelyn snaps as she pushes

"Understandable." I agree, as I definitely wouldn't be in her shoes.

I put my hands to assist the baby coming out; poor thing came out wailing her lungs out, all sticky with her umbilical cord sticking out on her belly.

'There isn't any knife.....well' I quickly summon a small Bound Dagger and cut the umbilical cord and use a small ribbon to tie the remaining cord.

"A healthy baby girl!" I say, and I hear Lady Stark release a breath of relief.

I quickly grab a warm, clean towel and clean the newborn; little by little, her cries subside until only a curious, gray-eyed baby is looking at me with her little eyes.

I roll her on on the towel and brings her to Lady Stark, who instantly looks at her baby in love and adoration
I pass her the baby, who instantly starts cooing at her mother, and Lady Catelyn starts to tear up looking down at her.

I, the midwives, and even the guards look at the scene softly.

BLAM!

"S-Sorry, my lady! I came as soon as I heard—" Maester Luwin wide open the door, causing it to hit the wall.

Causing baby Arya to start wailing again.
Making everybody glare at him

"You are late....it's a girl!" I tell him dryly.

▁▂▄▅▆▇█_____█▇▆▅▄▂▁

New spells used:
Harmony: An area-range spell that calms and relaxes anyone nearby, making them calm, focus and collected.

Guardian Circle: It creates a golden circle around the caster; any being inside the circle is continuously healed until the duration stops.

End of Chapter

Arya is born!!
I got myself thinking about how magic, especially Skyrim magic, can help with birth, surgery, etc. Then I remembered that there are two spells that literally make people relaxed, calm, and in harmony, and the other makes a circle that heals over time.

Word Count: 1864

Chapter Text

Winterfell
Jon's POV

After two days of cosplaying as a magical Count Dracula, I burned the corpses of the Ironborn I had staked.
It was easier than I thought it would be-nothing that a few Incinerate casts couldn't handle. The bodies turned to ash in moments.

Two days after Arya's birth, she's already the cutest thing in the world, constantly glued to her mother.

After her birth, I had Luwin examine both Lady Stark and Arya thoroughly, since it was not only the first birth I had ever overseen but also the first one involving magic.

I'll never forget Luwin's face-apparently, both were perfectly healthy, far healthier than anyone had expected.

Lady Stark was so healed that she didn't even look like she'd just given birth. She walked normally, without any pain whatsoever.
Arya was chubby, with rosy cheeks that I wanted to pinch all day-by far the healthiest baby Luwin had ever seen.

Robb and Sansa adore Arya as much as I do. They try to stay with Lady Stark as often as possible.
When they can't, they prefer to stay near me. Robb even wanted to help me burn the bodies, but both Lady Stark and I opposed it. To spare his feelings, I asked Ser Rodrik to take him to Wintertown to help with the rebuilding efforts.

After the battle, out of the 600 Ironborn who attacked, only 75 survived.
My Storm Atronachs and direwolves handled most of them, and afterward, the people of Wintertown took their own revenge.

The remaining seventy-five are now enjoying the cozy dungeons Winterfell has to offer. I'll keep them locked up for now before sending their sorry asses to the Wall.
They're lucky to be alive-if not for that, I wouldn't have stopped. I think my character's powers and experiences have desensitized me to the value of human life. I'm fairly certain I committed a few war crimes back in Skyrim when I played.

Another thing I've realized: I still haven't felt the need to sleep. It's like I'm running on fifty coffees mixed with Monster and cocaine. I guess being a Dragonborn and an Orc at the same time is the ultimate stimulant.

Still, I seriously miss coffee. I'd probably kill someone for a cup right now.

I've returned to my room. Lady Stark wanted me to move my quarters immediately to the main family wing, but I turned it down-at least for now. I need some time alone, away from everyone's looks of fear and awe.

"I fear they're going to fall to their knees and start chanting Lisan al Gaib," I mutter to myself with a small laugh at the irony-going from the bastard of Winterfell to the Hero of Winterfell.

I take off the small leather armor Ser Rodrik gave me and collapse onto my bed with a groan of relief.

Physically, I'm not tired-but mentally, I feel utterly drained.

"Hargh!" A sharp pain flares in my chest, making me twist in my bed. Before I can react, a red vortex appears on my chest, something emerging from it.
A red-and-black glow rises from my chest, swirling until it starts to solidify. The vortex fades, leaving only the glow to illuminate the room.

The light slowly dims, revealing a floating book before me. Its cover is made of deep black scales that protrude from the edges, a blood-red gem gleaming at its center like a ruby.

With my character memories - and even my fucking own - I recognized it instantly.

"A Black Book!" I said, a shiver of fear running down my spine at what that meant.

'No way in hell I was going to bring Hermaeus Mora into this fucked-up world by summoning a Lovecraftian god with tentacles' I thought, mild panic rising as the floating book just hovered there... ominously.

"AUGH! Motherfucker!" The book suddenly moved much faster than I expected and smacked me on the nose.

"Oh, little-" Before I could strangle the book out of existence, it snapped open in front of me. I jumped back, two Bound Swords already in my hands, ready for horrible fucking tentacles.

But what greeted me was huge writing across the pages:

'Are you retarded?'

"What the fuck? You can talk?!" I demanded in disbelief as I read the writing.

'Of course I can talk. Can you read? Or are you too stupid to read?' the text replied.

"Of course I can read, you stupid book. So if you aren't an open door to the Tentacle bastard, what the hell are you?!" I asked, blades still drawn - trusting a talking book rarely ends well; ask Ginny.

'Ahem! I am The Great! The Magnanimous! The Spectacular ENCANTUS!' the book wrote, a red-black glow radiating from it.

"Never heard of you," I said. The name was vaguely familiar but didn't ring any clear bells.

'...Fuck you, dude' it answered. I don't know why, but I felt like the book took a small prideful hit.

"Okay, okay. I'll take a wild guess - you're another boon from the Wheel, right?" I asked, already expecting the answer.

Yes! The Wheel decided you were worthy enough to have me. Never had so much pride been packed into a single phrase.

"So, what can you do?" I asked with interest - I'd gotten overpowered before and my magic had just been boosted again.

The book zipped toward me at a breakingneck speed and opened to a page marked with the symbol of a stretched hand.

Put your hand here! the script urged.

"No thank you. I'm not putting my hand on a weird magical book." I knew this was a gift from the Wheel of Destiny, but being too trusting bites you in the ass.

Stop being a wuss and bond already! the book snapped. I felt it roll its non-existent eyes.

"Fuck... fine. But if I lose my hand or get absorbed, I'm using you as toilet paper!" I said, took a deep breath, and put my palm on the page.

"Huh!" A gasp escaped my lips as power began to force-feed itself into my body. Every single cell started to sing as power flooded my being. It felt like the first time I gained my powers, only much stronger. Even with my eyes closed I saw a red glow behind my lids.

Knowledge sprouted in my mind. The strain came on, but before it became painful I felt my mind expand while simultaneously fortifying and strengthening itself.

I don't know how long passed, but the glow faded and I fell to my knees, gasping for air. My whole body ached like I'd run a marathon and wrestled a gorilla.

"Holy FUCK!" I breathed, analyzing the new knowledge I'd just received.

I looked at a nearby chair - old, one leg shorter than the others - and raised my right hand toward it.

"Stupefy!" A red bolt shot from my hand, speeding like a bullet, hitting the chair and reducing it to pieces that flew all around the room.

"Huh! I fucking got multiversal magic! Hahahaha!" I laughed in disbelief and joy as knowledge of several worlds of magic flooded my mind - different spells, curses, and more.

'SOO Pretty good, right?! Nothing that the Mighty Encantus can't give' the book wrote, its writing dripping with pride. This time I wasn't going to disagree.

I slowly pushed myself to my feet and stared at it in amazement.

"We're gonna do a lot of cool stuff!" I said, still grinning.

Yes we will... also your dad is gonna die, you might want to stop that, the book added casually.

"WHAT?!"

▁▂▄▅▆▇█_____█▇▆▅▄▂▁

New Spells Learned:

Stupefy (Stupefying Charm) (Harry Potter)- Releases a bolt of red concussive energy. On impact it can render a target unconscious or strike with a powerful concussive force.

New Universes Magic Unlocked:

Tamiriel Magic (Skyrim) - Unlocked!

Wizarding Magic (Harry Potter) - Unlocked!

Sorceries/Pyromancies/Miracles (Dark Souls) - Unlocked!

End of Chapter

I again end with a disgusting cliffhanger, I feel disgust and rage at myself but I needed to do this, I am so sorry my dear readers but it was stronger than myself!
Hope you all liked this new chapter, have been writing this for a while and finally finished, Things are going to develop very, very fast now, plot is basicly blow to bit right now
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Word Count: 1403