The Warg Lord (ASOIAF)(SI)

White Harbor, despite being known as the smallest among the five cities to the people of Westeros, remained the most significant settlement north of the Neck. However, unlike King's Landing, the frigid climate of the North ensured that the city never had to contend with unpleasant odors no matter how much its population increased.

The city of White Harbor was situated on the River White Knife's eastern coastline where it meets the Bite. It is a clean and well-ordered City, with wide straight cobbled streets that make it easy to walk around. The houses are built of whitewashed stone, with steeply-pitched roofs of dark grey slate.

Located on the central street, just a stone's throw away from the famous Fishfoot fountain of Harbor, was a modest two-story building. Although the building's owner, an elderly merchant, had recently passed away, he was able to fulfill his wife's final wish by arranging the marriage of his daughter, Danny, to Rogar, the son of his dear friend Sam, who was also a merchant from Wintertown.

The two-story building boasted a store on the ground floor, similar to the nearby buildings, while the upstairs area served as a living space. Danny was primarily responsible for managing the store, which mainly sold various types of food supplies suitable for long voyages. Given its strategic location in the biggest port in the North, the store was thriving and enjoyed a steady flow of customers.

Following the death of Danny's father, she and her husband Rogar resided in the building alone until a few weeks ago, when Roger's father, Sam, arrived from Wintertown to work and moved in with them.

The morning was still young, and the street lay deserted as Danny worked away in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. She glanced up when she heard footsteps and spotted her father-in-law emerging, dressed in his work clothes.

"Good morning, Danny," Sam greeted her with a warm smile, "Has Rogar already left?"

"Yes, he departed in a hurry since his ship is leaving for King's Landing tomorrow," Danny replied, returning to kneading the dough. She looked up again as Sam approached the door. "Where are you headed, Father? Breakfast is almost ready."

"I'm already running late, and there's a shipment due to arrive today," Sam explained apologetically. "Don't worry about wasting any food; I'll be back for lunch." Without waiting for a response, he closed the door behind him and hastened off to his destination.

As Sam scurried along the path, jostling through the throngs of early risers heading to their jobs, he found himself reminiscing about the day his fortunes had taken a turn for the better. It was a vivid memory, etched into his mind like a clear blue sky. At that time, he had been a little concerned about his younger daughter Becca, who was unruly and showed no interest in learning.

When Becca expressed a desire to learn from Jon, Lord Stark's son, he readily agreed and even paid a handsome fee to Jon, who was still a young boy at the time. His primary motivation, Of course, had been to establish a connection with his liege lord, Lord Stark, at that time as any true Northener would attest to the value of any connection to the Starks, no matter how tenuous.

But little had Sam known that this decision would become one of the best ones of his life and would ultimately pay immense dividends in the future.

Jon Snow had managed to create an exceptional invention, the Starkhorse, which served as an excellent alternative to horses in large cities while being much cheaper. Although it could not replace horses used by armies, knights, Lords, and the like, it was an ideal option for smallfolks who needed to travel within the city or move small items quickly.

When Jon offered him the opportunity to oversee the day-to-day operations of his Starkhorse business, he readily accepted the offer, recognizing the immense profit potential it presented. He had only been in town for two months since arriving from Wintertown, and he had already been sold out of stock five times. Fortunately, Jon always anticipated the demand and sent more stock than before.

At this moment, a new batch of freshly made Starkhorses was on its way to White Knife from Winterfell, and he needed to be there to ensure that everything went smoothly. He couldn't afford any mishaps, and he was determined to make the most of this opportunity.

As he made his way towards his destination, he spotted a commotion in the middle of a four-way street. As he approached, the clamor emanating from the crowd quickly revealed what was happening.

"Step right up! Witness the wonder of the North! Behold the Starkhorse!" a young teenager hollered enthusiastically, beckoning all onlookers to gather around.

Despite it having been over two months since these promotions began, the sight of people flocking to see the Starkhorse remained awe-inspiring. After all, such novelties were a rarity in the North.

The teenage promoter was putting on quite the performance, leaping and shouting dramatically in an attempt to convince the crowd of the benefits of purchasing a Starkhorse. The assembled crowd was entranced, listening with bated breath.

Abruptly, a middle-aged man muscled his way to the front of the crowd and shouted a question towards the young promoter. "Why the F*ck should I buy this...this...thing instead of a normal horse? At least a horse can walk on its own," he grumbled

"Good question!" the teen beamed, "Tell me then, Old Man, Does a horse need to eat,"

"Oh course it does," The man retorted, "What kind of horse doesn't need that,"

"Well, This one doesn't need any kind of feed at all," The teen waved his hand over the Starkhorse standing perched on a pedestal, "Now, tell me can a horse die? Can it fall sick? Can it easily get injured? Can it easily break a leg?"

"Y-Yes,"

"Ah, but this one cannot," the teen exclaimed triumphantly. "So you can purchase it without hesitation. And you want to know the cherry on top..." The teen said dramatically to the crowd, "It doesn't Shit! So no more waking up in the morning early to clean new shit every day," the crowd supplied the teen's enthusiasm with raucous cheers.

"So tell me, People of The North," The teen yelled as soon as the clamor had died down, "Is a horse better or a Starkhorse,"

"STARKHORSE!" The crowd chanted excitedly.

"And, as an added bonus, a Starkhorse is FIVE times less expensive than a horse," the teen pivoted to face the middle-aged man. "So, are you now ready to make a purchase?"

The man hesitated for a few moments before he said, "Ah! F*ck it! I'll buy one then," he announced, making his way toward the back of the teenage promoter. There, rows of Starkhorses were on display, with a man seated at a table taking payments and distributing Starkhorses.

Observing the man making a purchase, a dozen other hesitant individuals were tempted, and soon followed suit, clamoring to acquire their very own Starkhorses.

After observing the commotion for a few more moments, Sam decided to move away from the crowd and continue on his journey. He had seen this kind of marketing ploy more times than he could count and knew that it was all staged. In fact, he knew that it was a marketing idea sent by Jon himself. But there was no denying that it was working wonders for the sales of Starkhorses.

The person who had posed the question was actually a worker under their employ, so there was little to no cost involved in the promotion. The concept was simply brilliant and played on the psychology of people, boosting sales by more than three times.

Every few days when the sales hit a plateau in an area, they would move to another part of town and start anew, with a different worker, asking similar questions, maybe they will change the order now and then to keep things interesting.

Jon had estimated that it would take approximately two years to reach most of the city's population that could afford a Starkhorse. However, with the way demand was increasing day by day, Sam was confident that they would meet the city's demand a lot sooner than anticipated.

After which they would start looking for markets in other cities in Westeros and maybe even in Essos. But at the moment they were not letting even a single Starkhorse move out of the city as much as they could, even though a lot of merchants had come to them with great offers after seeing the potential it had.

But Jon didn't want to move out of North before they completed White Harbor's demand completely and another thing was that every new batch of Starkhorse had one or two improvements that made it better. So he wanted to make sure that they were safe and perfect during what he called a "Trial Run" since if any problem arose in the North it could be solved easily with the Stark name which would be hard to do somewhere else.

Of all the sales that happened, Sam knew that the Manderlys took about 20% of the profit. And this generous amount was due to Lord Stark being the one who was negotiating on behalf of Jon, for if he himself had done it, things would have gone a lot differently. Because he understood that for the likes of Lord Manderly, doing a favor to their liege lord was a lot more valuable to them than anything he could earn from this.

And the Manderlys provide many things in return for their cut of profit things like protection, a warehouse to store their products, and the like. While all the people working had been hired by Sam on Jon's behalf the warehouses on the other hand a place to dock, as well as ships that ferry their product from Winterfell to Whiteharbour, were provided by the Manderlys.

Sam arrived at the inner port where the eastern shore of the river White Knife ended, to find three ships filled to the brim with a new shipment of Starkhorses. They had been transported straight out of the Factory on the bank of the other end of White Knife near Winterfell.

He hastened to the pier, relieved to find the unloading process already underway. As he had anticipated, the number of Starkhorses was greater than the last shipment.

At the start when the sales took off and the stock in Whiteharbor started to empty a lot faster than Sam anticipated, he was a bit worried that the supply would not be able to keep up with the demand.

But it seemed that Jon had taken that into account too because slowly but surely he was upping the pace at which he produced Starkhorse and Sam even heard that Jon was already planning a new factory just beside the old one.

Sam diligently worked from morning till noon, overseeing the stocktaking and ensuring the workers weren't slacking off and that no one was trying to do anything sneaky. The process was completed without any hiccups, and the new stock was safely deposited in the Warehouse. Sam's stomach growled with hunger as he hurriedly made his way back home.

He relished his meal heartily, savoring the satisfaction of eating well after a few hours of hard work. As he finished his lunch and got ready to head back to work, a teenage boy suddenly appeared, sprinting towards him at full speed. Sam halted in his tracks, recognizing the boy.

"Mr Sam," the teen panted, coming to a stop in front of him, "The first mate is calling for you urgently,"

"Why? What's happened?" Sam asked with a hint of concern in his voice as he hurried towards the outer port, where his son's ship was likely still docked.

"I don't know," replied the teen, his pace quickening to keep up with Sam's.

As they arrived at the bustling port, the noise of ships unloading and loading goods filled their ears. Pushing their way through the throng of people, they finally reached their destination ship, where Rogar was impatiently waiting for his father.

"Rogar," Sam said, "What happened? Your aide said that it was urgent?"

"Father, do you remember when you told me to keep an eye out for anyone selling ships?" Rogar asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"Yes, I do," Sam said with anticipation, "Why? Did you find a good deal?"

"Yes, I did," Rogar nodded happily, "Do you remember Ron, the wealthy merchant from King's Landing?"

"Yes, the one who used to trade in fruits and olives,"

"His fleet was struck by a severe storm," Rogar explained with animated gestures. "He lost a significant amount of cargo and a few ships. As a result, he needs to sell three ships he can't afford to keep right now to raise cash."

"Really," Sam said, his excitement building.

"Yes, I think he will be willing to sell them at a huge loss if you were able to pay him upfront," Rogar said before he asked worriedly, "Would you be able to procure that kind of gold in time,"

"Oh Don't worry about that," Sam waved his son's worries away with a smile, "I have been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time. Before that, Did you see the condition of those ships? Are they in good condition?"

This was another crucial task Jon had asked him to do, he wanted him to acquire affordable ships and assemble a fleet of at least five fully crewed vessels with trustworthy sailors over the next two years. So that when they
eventually started shipping to other cities, they didn't have to look for other merchants and could have a Shipping company of their own.

"Yes, I looked through all three ships closely before calling for you," Rogar nodded seriously, "All three were barely damaged in the storm and would be good as new after a few repairs,"

As they walked towards the merchant's home to negotiate the ship's price, they discussed a few more things. However, Sam noticed a frown on his son's face and asked, "Is something bothering you, son?"

Rogar hesitated before replying, "It's nothing serious. It's just that I have a couple of friends who used to work as crew members on those ships. Now that the ships are being sold, they'll be out of work. They have families to
support, and I'm worried about them."

Rogar sighed and shook his head. "They're good northerners, and they'll have a hard time finding work. They'll probably have to start from scratch somewhere else and be paid far less than what they were earning before."
Sam's face lit up with realization. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? That's not a problem at all. In fact, it's good news. I was worried about the time it would take to hire a completely new crew for the ships, but now we can just hire them."

"Are you sure about that?" Rogar asked.

"Absolutely," Sam replied confidently. "We can hire as many of the previous crew members as want to stay on board. It's a win-win situation."

He was excited at getting one pleasing news after another and knew that when Frost arrived next week with Jon's letter he would be writing a good long reply filled with the good news that would be sure to get his spirits high.

 

The castle of Winterfell loomed in the darkness, its walls and towers silhouetted against a starry sky. Only a handful of lamps flickered here and there, casting feeble pools of light on the cobblestone paths.

The only people awake and moving in the castle of Winterfell were the night guards and in some of the private chambers, couples were hard at work, striving to increase the population of the North. Their faces glowed in the dim light of torches as they laboured through the night.

An exception to this was Jon who was neither a night guard nor old enough to participate in contributing to the population yet.

He had slipped past the guards after his family had retired for the night and made his way to an isolated stretch of the wall, where the guards rarely ventured, it was a place where you could get the best view of the night sky in Winterfell Castle.

Jon lay sprawled on the wall, his eyes tracing the glittering constellations that speckled the night sky. He fancied himself a bit of an expert on the subject, having spent countless hours poring over dusty tomes in the castle library. The Moonmaid, the ice dragon, and the Crane were old friends to him, but others were more elusive. The Stallion and the Shadowcat, for instance, were so similar that he struggled to tell them apart.

But don't be fooled into thinking that Jon was simply star-gazing to while away the sleepless hours because at that moment the neurons in his brain were firing at light speed at full intensity as he fought hard to keep his eyes open and his focus sharp to stay in his own body.

Jon's attention was split in two: one half focused on the twinkling stars overhead, while the other half delved deep into the mind of Frost, who was far away on the other end of Wolfswood near Last Hearth, dashing through the trees on the hunt for prey.

It had taken months of grueling practice, but Jon had finally achieved a level of control over his warging abilities that he'd never thought possible. He could now seamlessly slip into Frost's consciousness while maintaining full control over his own body and senses.

The first time he did it properly, it felt like a bolt of lightning had struck him, and his mind felt as if it had leveled up, and his thoughts suddenly were clearer, more agile, and he could multitask with ease that he never could before. But at first, he was only able to maintain that state of being in two bodies at the same time for a few dozen seconds so he had decided to come here to train in this ability until he could reliably do it.

About ten minutes later, Jon's eyes snapped shut as he began to pant and sweat from the effort. The mental strain of warging was immense, and warging while keeping his body fully functional was a Herculean feat that pushed him to the limits of his endurance.

A grin spread across Jon's face as he glanced at the hourglass beside him. Ten minutes of warging without losing control was a new personal best, and he felt a surge of pride and satisfaction at his progress. As mentally taxing as this training was, the thrill of improvement kept him motivated.

His mind began to wander, seeking relief from the strain of warging. Jon's thoughts flitted from one topic to another with no discernible thread. He mused aloud about the three ships he'd recently acquired, "I hope Sam is playing it safe with those ships..."

He had told Merchant not to take any risk with the three new ships, and only allow them to take the safest trips, even if it means sacrificing profits. At the moment his priority was to build up a skilled crew so he had also told him to select youngsters from Wintertown and to rotate them on the ships to learn so that when they increased the number of ships in the future they have skilled captains, first mates, and sailors readily available.

As his mind wandered, Jon's thoughts turned to his animal companions. Frost, who he had just been warging into, was currently moving towards the wall at Jon's request. He had always wanted to see the wall and since it was inconvenient at the moment to physically be there himself, he thought to see through Frost's eyes.

Frost had never stopped growing and despite Frost's size - having grown larger than Jon himself - she remained light as a feather and incredibly fast. But with such a large creature, Jon had to be careful about when and where he met her. Frost's size was sure to scare the inhabitants of Winterfell, so Jon only met her at night to avoid causing any unnecessary rumors.

Frost had made the entire North her home, and she could move fast enough to traverse the distance from Moat Callin to the Wall in just one day. However, she mostly wandered through the mountains and forests without leaving the North. This was a source of joy for Jon, as he got to see the many beautiful things that were hidden from the rest of the world through her eyes.

Speaking of that, Jon's other companion, Tiger, the shadow cat he had bought from the Wolfswood along with its sibling, had grown large enough to hunt on its own. Jon had found a cave in the nearby forest for Tiger to live in, and he visited him every other day. However, Jon mostly left him alone so that Tiger could grow up naturally in the wild. The only thing Jon told Tiger was to avoid any humans he might come across.

Jon didn't know if it was a coincidence or not, but somehow every single animal that was associated with him seemed to be growing abnormally quickly, with their diets being almost double the normal amount. In addition,
they all seemed to be smarter than their counterparts

A perfect example of this would be his horse, Pegasus. Despite both Jon and Robb acquiring their horses on the same day, Pegasus had already reached the normal height of an adult while Robb's horse was still far from it.

And Pegasus didn't show any signs of stopping his growth anytime soon, which meant he might break some records if he continued at this rate. Similarly, Jon's tiger was growing much faster than its sibling.

The only thing he could conclude at that moment was that all this abnormal growth was related to him. His frequent warging into the animals since they were young might have stimulated their brains to grow, which in turn forced their bodies to bring out their full potential.

Jon wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but the next time he opened his eyes, he noticed that the sun was rising on the horizon. He let out a big yawn and slowly climbed down the wall before Sansa or Arya started looking for him.

As Jon made his way through the courtyard, he couldn't help but overhear a couple of maids gossiping in hushed tones about something in the distance. His curiosity piqued, he quietly approached them and began to eavesdrop.

After a few moments, Jon pieced together the gist of their conversation: Lord Stark was preparing for a trip to the Bear Islands because the young lord Mormont had broken a sacred law by selling to slavers, and now Lord Stark was obliged to punish him.

The news jogged Jon's memory, and he suddenly realized that the Jorah poaching incident was supposed to happen around this time. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks as a chain of thoughts raced through his mind, and an idea began to formulate in his mind that might turn out to be his brightest yet.

If he could execute his plan properly, this seemingly irrelevant incident could be turned into North's biggest advantage.
...

"...and that's why I know that every single year after you pay taxes to the throne, you spend all the remaining money to buy food from the Riverlands, Vales, or the Reach, to make sure that more people survive the harsh
winter and don't have to die of starvation..."

Lord Stark was seated at his desk in the Lord's Solar, with Robb sitting in the chair before him. They were listening intently to Jon's proposal of how they could use this Mormont incident to their advantage and listening to him till now Ned could say proudly that Jon was a lot more eloquent than he could ever be.

"...That is also the reason I never came to you when I initially had the idea to sell Starkhouses to make a profit because I knew that you hate spending money frivolously as a few dragons may just mean that one more family survives in the winter. And I had no way of knowing that my idea may even work but now that we are making a steady profit in White Harbor, I can bring this to you as a profitable business..."

Eddard knew more clearly than anyone else that one of the main reasons for North being the poorest of Seven Kingdoms (except for the Iron Islands) was that they seemed to be stuck in some kind of a perpetual wheel where the harsh winters make it difficult for the North to accumulate wealth, as they spent much of their resources on food and supplies to survive the long, cold months.

They could never afford the luxury to spend coins like the other kingdoms on things like roads or ships to increase trade, or fancy armor and horses to improve their military might Even if they somehow managed to save some money after a short winter, someone, somewhere will start a war over some petty reason, dragging the North into it and leaving them with no choice but to focus on fighting instead of development.

It is as if every Northerner had accepted the reality in their heart that come Winter a great culling will happen where the weak will perish and the ones who survive will have to continue. And it seems that it will continue to happen perpetually unless they somehow instantly become rich enough to afford food for every single person in the North.

"...But if we continue down this path we never develop and will always be known as barbarians to those in the south but this... this is a chance for us to break through. If we can fully capitalize on it, we can improve the lives of
Northerners like never before," Jon concluded his well-prepared speech with a deep breath, looking at Lord Stark expectantly for his response.

At the moment the whole of the planetos was an Agrarian civilization where wealth was measured by the amount of arable land one owned, protected by their army, with only a few exceptions such as the Lannisters who had a huge gold mine under their ass. So at the moment, the only way Jon could see a way to make some quick money before the shit hit the fan was through some kind of industry and he chose the most practical one that he could remember.

"I wholeheartedly agree with your point about needing a breakthrough," Ned said with a sigh, before leaning back and nodding at Jon. "So, tell me exactly what you need."

"As I've already mentioned, my plan is to sell Starkhorses in cities on the eastern shore such as Braavos, King's Landing, Pentos, and all the Essosi cities through White Harbor. Therefore, I was thinking that if we had a similar port on the western shore it would make cities like Lannisport and Oldtown more accessible, without having to go all the way around through Dorne," Jon explained.

Ned shook his head with a bitter smile. "While it's a noble idea, you might as well give it up because I don't think it's going to be feasible at all," he said.

"Why not, Father?" Robb asked immediately, "Not only could we sell Starkhorses through there it would also improve trade on the western shores," Robb had been the one most excited listening to Jon create a vivid picture in their mind about his future vision, and he was already on board with every single idea that Jon placed in front of Eddard.

"Ironborn," Jon said answering Robb instead of Ned.

"That's right," Ned nodded approvingly at Jon, "They would never let a port survive that close to them,"

"B-But they just lost the huge war," Robb said with wide eyes as if urging them to see from his point of view, "They must be lacking any kind of army at the moment, a-and won't they be afraid of retaliation so soon after the war if they tried anything again,"

"While you're right for the most. You've never fought them so you don't know them well enough," Ned calmly explained to his agitated son, "Ironborn are best explained by the Greyjoy motto, 'We do not Sow,'. They do not believe in money or trade— just pillaging and plundering,"

"So even though they just got out of a huge war, it won't be long before they are able to assemble a few wooden ships to start their pirating ways again," Ned continued, his nose crunching in disgust, "They will probably just change their targets for a while to Essos or maybe they'll hide their flags and disguise as pirates if they want to hunt on Westeros's shore to have deniability but they won't stop. So it is almost impossible for a port to survive
in waters close to them as they won't let a single ship pass by without sinking and looting them,"

"But...But..." Robb appeared crestfallen at having the idea that he thought was brilliant being shot down due to those pirates but before he could dwell on his disappointment, Ned turned to Jon with a smile and asked him

"Jon, it seems you've already pondered this situation. Do you have a solution?"

"You are right, Father, I do have a solution," Jon nodded with a proud smile, "We simply take away their biggest weapon and it will be very easy to defend against them,"

"Their biggest Weapon? What is that?" Robb asked hurriedly and Ned also looked curiously at Jon.

"If you look at the history of most of the battles that ironborn have ever won, you can easily notice that the biggest thing going for them, their biggest weapon is SURPRISE. They always employ ambush tactics and they're sneaky and can move quickly on their ships. By the time their targets realize what's happening, they're already on their doorstep. Then their suicidal charge and sheer numbers take care of the rest,"

Jon's eyes lit up with excitement as he spoke, "If we strip away their element of surprise, the ironborn become just another band of pirates." He gestured with his hand, emphasizing his point. "Just imagine if the Lannisters had been warned about the attack on Lannisport even a day in advance. It would have made a huge difference. Removing the surprise factor is like taking the wings off a bird."

Ned leaned in, his expression serious. "That's all well and good, Jon, but how do we take away their surprise?"

"For that, I need to tell you something that I've kept a secret all this time..." Jon hesitated for a moment, exchanging a glance with his brother before finally taking a deep breath he said, "You know those stories about the
wargs... Well, they are kind of true..."

Jon was in that room for a very long time, even past dinner and it was only when Lady Stark herself came that the three Stark males left the solar to eat. A few days later, Lord Stark and Jon left for the Bear Islands with their minds filled with a whole lot more than just punishing a Lord.

 

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the warm glow intensified, casting a golden hue on the treetops and the faces of Lord Stark's party as they mingled with Lord Glover's, who had joined them halfway through the Wolfswood to lead his liege. The mingling of the two groups was a welcome respite from the long journey through the Wolfswood, and the sound of birdsong mixed with the lively chatter and laughter of the group as they busied themselves with preparations for the evening meal.

Eddard and Lord Glover were in deep conversation when a movement caught Eddard's eye. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the forest before turning to Lord Glover with a subtle teasing tone, "Looks like they've finally returned."

"Huh," Glover who was taking a swig of some hardy Northern ale looked in the direction Eddard was indicating. He scowled irritably as the hunting party emerged from the forest. "Not again," he muttered. "There has to be some kind of trick to this."

But Jon Snow, who led the party, was quick to retort, a smug grin on his face. "No trick, my lord. Just pure skill."

The hunting party consisted of two skilled hunters from Deepwoode Motte and two from Winterfell, accompanied by the two young boys. One was Jon Snow, and the other was Lawrence Snow, the bastard of Hornwood, a ward under Galbart Glover. The hands of the adults were filled with the game they had hunted consisting of a stag, a boar, and a rare moose.

"He was amazing, My Lord," Lawrence gushed in an awe-filled voice to Lord Glover, "He hunted one animal after another a-and he was able to pick up trails that none of our hunters were able to see and..."

The young ward went on and on, singing Jon's praises until Lord Glover interrupted him with a wave of his hand, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine! You don't have to sing laurels of him anymore. I get it, he's a very good hunter."

The banter between the lord and his ward elicited laughter from the group. Despite being a bastard, Lawrence was very close to Lord Glover, and their relationship was a source of amusement for those around them. Lawrence sheepishly rubbed his head with a smile before making his way to the cook, who was skinning the game.

As Lawrence left, Jon approached the two lords with a huge smile on his face. Glover tried to avoid looking at his Liege's bastard, but Jon wasn't going to let him off the hook. In a leading tone, he said, "I think you have a gift for me, My Lord."

"Huh...Oh...Um...." Glover tried to feign ignorance, looking around as if searching for an excuse, before finally turning to Lord Stark for help. However, the Lord of Winterfell raised his hands in surrender and said, "Don't look at me, Galbart. I warned you not to bet against him. It's your own fault for not listening to me."

The smugness was evident in Lord Stark's typically stern expression, and the group couldn't help but chuckle at the scene before them.

Lord Glover hesitated for a moment, scrutinizing the faces of his liege and his liege's bastard, before grumbling, "Fine! Fine! Here take it, boy, I don't want people to say that I am a sore loser," he reluctantly passed a beautiful sleek Weirwood bow to Jon, who received it with reverence and eagerness. "Don't lose it, boy," he cautioned.

"Don't worry, My Lord," Jon said, bowing happily, "I'll take good care of it," Jon immediately took his leave and went to the side to try out his new bow. The longbow was a true masterpiece, crafted from Weirwood, and had the ability to shoot arrows so quickly and accurately that one would be struck before they could even spot the archer. Coupled with the short bow given to him by his teacher, Jon could now cover an even greater range.

As they watched Jon display his skills to the guards and hunters, Eddard turned to Lord Glover and asked, "You're not too upset about this, are you? If you are, perhaps I can try to persuade Jon..."

Lord Glover shook his head and took a swig of his ale. "Nah, forget it. He'll make better use of it than a tired old man like me. Besides, I got it from a Wildling raider, so it's not like I paid for it or anything. This will teach me not
to underestimate kids in the future," he added, chuckling self-deprecatingly.

The story went somewhat like this, Lord Glover had heard stories about Jon's hunting prowess, so he asked Lord Stark to confirm them. Lord Stark not only verified Jon's prowess but also proclaimed him to be the best hunter in Winterfell.

Lord Glover was of course skeptical and expressed doubts and Jon who was nearby immediately saw an opportunity. Jon had fallen in love with Lord Glover's bow, so he suggested a bet that whoever hunted more and better prey over the following days before they left the forest would win and of course, the price would be the bow.

Lord Glover scoffed and said something like, "I've been hunting in this woods before I could crawl, Boy! There is no way I would lose to a wet behind-his-ears brat like you," They took turns hunting for every evening meal, and Lord Glover and his party grew increasingly dumbfounded as they watched Jon consistently bring in ridiculously large and rare prey. It was as if he no longer considered rabbits and deer they hunted as suitable prey at all.

"Don't worry, Galbart. You probably won't be the last one he swindles things out of," Lord Stark consoled him. Upon realizing that their destination was Bear Islands, where the proud Lady Mormont resided, Lord Glover burst into laughter.

They left the wolfswood the very next and arrived at the castle of Deepwood Motte. It was a wooden motte-and-bailey castle so while it was not particularly strong it worked for the people here.

The castle's long hall sat atop a hill with a flattened top, accompanied by a fifty-foot-high watchtower. Below the hill, there was a bailey that contained stables, paddocks, a smithy, a well, and a sheepfold. The castle's defence was meagre, consisting of a ditch, an earthen dike, and a palisade of logs. Deepwood's mossy outer walls were safeguarded by two square towers and wallwalks.

They spent only a night at Deepwood Motte before setting off towards the sea, which was only about five leagues away. Waiting for them there was a ship sent by the Mormonts to escort Lord Stark and his party to Bear Islands, Lady Mormont herself came on the ship, but she brought along the news that Ser Jorah had run away along with his southern wife in the middle of the night.

...

"...He hired a fancy cook from Oldtown, a harper from Lannisport, and even bought a fancy ship so that he and his pretty wife could attend tourneys and festivals," Maege explained, her face contorted in disgust, "He spared no effort to please his wife even if meant bringing the House into ruinous debt, but I guess even that wasn't enough... so he eventually resorted to selling poachers as slaves to those Tyroshi," She ended self deprecatingly while shaking her head.

They were in the Lord's solar of Mormont castle which was actually just a wooden Longhall, surrounded by an Earthern palisade. It was a remote and cold windswept island of forests and hills but despite the harsh surroundings, the beauty of the ancient trees, flowering thorn bushes, and creeks outside the window was undeniable.

There were four people in the room, Maege Mormont, Acting Lady of Bear Island (For the moment), her eldest daughter Dacey Mormont, Lord Stark, and Jon, who stood behind him. While the adults discussed, Jon and Dacey quietly observed, with the latter occasionally stealing curious glances at Jon.

"What were those Tyroshi doing out here?" Eddard furrowed his brow in confusion.

"They hailed from the Stepstones and were traveling to Westeros as merchants," Maege explained in a weary voice, her face showing signs of sleepless nights, "Apparently, these scoundrels were regular clients of the Ironborn, buying any excess 'Thralls' they had on hand for a low price and selling them for profit in Essos,"

"Having just been through a war, the Ironborn didn't have anything to sell so they came here to resupply when Jorah got wind of it and thought about a braindead scheme to sell the poacher prisoners who were due for the wall to them sneakily at night. If it wasn't for Dacey here," She jerked her head to her daughter standing behind her who stuck her chest proudly, "who happened to catch him, we would have never even known,"

"It's not your fault, Maege," Eddard consoled her. "You fulfilled your duty by promptly informing me of his crime. There was nothing more you could have done,"

"No, what happened was done by a Mormont, and it was unforgivable," Maege said, her head shaking resolutely. "I would give you the treasury if there was anything in there. That coward not only left us deeply in debt to the Iron Bank, but he also took whatever little we had in the treasury when he ran away with that wench." Her head lowered, and even Dacey gritted her teeth in anger and shame. "But I would accept any kind of tax you levy on
us, My Lord, no matter how harsh it may be, and spend my whole life repaying you if that's what it takes to regain our honor,"

"Maege, you know that I can't do that. It would be exceedingly cruel to the people here who committed no crime," Eddard shook his head with a sigh before standing and walking to the window. He looked out for a moment before turning back to the room, his expression serious. "I'll be frank with you, Maege. I came to Bear Island this time hoping to enlist your help in one of my endeavors,"

"Anything, My lord. As long as you wish it, I will try my hardest to fulfill it," Maege said, her eyes brightening as if grasping for a branch when she was drowning.

"I need you to build a port here,"

"A port, My lord," Maege said, in confusion, "But we already have one,"

"Not a small one, but one that can accommodate a sufficient number of trade vessels comfortably and defend itself when necessary,"

"I don't think that would be feasible here, My lord. We don't have anything that is worth exporting except for fish and trees and we have no shipbuilders or builders of any kind and of course, the Ironborn would never let a port survive here..." Maege abruptly stopped listing the reasons, and said, "But you already knew all that... So why..."

"You don't have to worry about the things to export as we already have that," Eddard said calmly, "As for builders, I asked Wyman to send a few of his best builders; they should be arriving here in a few weeks and they will be the one to lead the work on the port. As for your second and third reason..." He nodded toward his son who immediately came forward as if he was waiting for it.

"My lady, I am Jon Snow," Jon bowed and said with a smile, "...and I have a special skill,"

"Special skill?" Maege asked with a tilt of her head, looking between the father and son who were acting mysteriously, and behind her, Dacey also perked up, interested in this special skill.

"May I take a seat, My Lady," Jon said, gesturing and when Lady Mormont nodded he sat on the chair.

He got as comfortable as he could before he took a deep breath, "Now don't get scared My lady..."

Before the two females in the room could express their confusion, Jon's body suddenly went limp and when they looked at his eyes they both gasped loudly, and Lady Mormont even stood up abruptly as they noticed that his pupils had completely vanished.

Remembering the legends and stories she had heard in her childhood, Maege dumbfoundingly turned to her Liege Lord who was calmly standing there without saying anything as his son performed a clear feat of magic that was feared across Westeros and was hated vehemently by the Maesters.

"What—"

Jon's eyes turned normal before Maege could question Eddard and he immediately started speaking after taking a few deep breaths, "There are ten ships hailing from Bear Islands that are currently fishing in the nearby sea and you have ten more that are docked across the villages on the island—"

Maege interrupted Jon with a surprised tone. "You're a Warg!"

"I am," Jon replied, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her reaction.

"...Amazing!" Dacey exclaimed with wide eyes and Jon immediately provided her a smile.

Maege took a deep breath and calmly sat back in her seat. Turning to Eddard, she asked, "And you're okay with this?"

"He is my son," Eddard said with a weary smile, "While I would've preferred if he wasn't involved with magic, it is what it is,"

"I thought you would be a bit more against it since you were brought up in the south and all...But..." Maege mumbled under her breath before she shook her head and asked, "Anyway... how will this help us get ships because we don't have the resources to build a shipyard or hire experts for that..."

"For starters... I know about a village nearby that has recently acquired a few ships that they have no use for so I am sure they will be happy to trade them for some fishing boats that would be more useful for them. As for what to do after..." Jon looked into her eyes and said with a sweet smile, "Don't you have a neighbor that has an abundance of ships, I am sure they won't mind sharing a few with us every now and then,"

"I don't get it?" Dacey asked tilting her head.

"My friend up there is a very fast bird," Jon said while pointing his finger upward, "She can travel the distance that a ship takes about three days to cover— in just under an hour, So, when I warg into her I can see what she
sees which means that if I want to I can always know the location of any ship I want,"

"Really..." Dacey exclaimed with wide eyes and said to her mother, "That would mean that—"

"You're right, that would be too much of an advantage," Maege nodded wonderingly.

"So what do you say," Eddard asked coming to stand in front of Maege, "Not only will this port help Bear Island but it would also provide jobs for the nearby Deepwood who I am sure would be happy to supply wood for adequate wages,"

Maege was a bit overwhelmed but she still said with a small smile, "I think, My Lord, you already know my answer..."

...

"...How much farther, now," Jon asked after a while.

"We're almost there," Dacey replied, her skilled hands manoeuvring the small boat effortlessly.

Lord Stark and Lady Mormont were finalizing all the details of the new port - discussing ownership, the optimal location for the factory, and other important matters. After Jon had given his input on the necessary details for the factory, Lady Mormont had asked Dacey to take him on a tour of the port.

As they exited the castle, Dacey led Jon straight to a small, worn-out fishing boat, urging him to climb aboard. "Is this yours?" Jon asked tentatively, feeling uneasy about boarding a boat for the first time in his life.

Dacey laughed. "No, it's not mine, but I don't think the owner will mind if I borrow it for a bit." Jon wasn't entirely convinced about that.

And when asked about where she was taking him? she only said that she wants to, "...show you something special,"

So here he was sitting on a precariously wobbling boat driven by a ten-year-old, who was driving him to an unknown place to show him something special. Jon didn't know what to think or feel, so he just laid back and enjoyed the stunning sea and the clear blue sky above. Although it was summer, the breeze was still chilly, sending pleasant shivers down his skin every now and then.

After around fifteen minutes, Dacey suddenly started rowing slowly towards a massive cliff. As they drew nearer, Jon noticed a small, hidden beach nestled between the cliffs, visible only from up close. Dacey deftly parked the boat, and with Jon's assistance, she pulled it onto the sand to prevent it from drifting away.

"So what is it that you wanted to show me," Jon asked while looking around the small sand beach that while very beautiful had nothing visible that said "special" about it.

Instead of answering, Dacey walked to the shore, took a deep breath, put her fingers in her mouth, and whistled loudly. She had an amazing set of lungs and Jon had to cover his ears, so loud was she and she continued for several seconds before finally stopping.

"Now what," Jon said after nothing happened for a while

Dacey gazed out over the horizon for a few moments before turning to him and replying, "Now we wait." She then curiously asked, "So, tell me, can you only warg into a single animal or can you do it into any animal?"

Although Jon was taken aback by the sudden change of topic, he decided to go along with her, "Well there are two types basically a Skinchanger and a Warg..."

Jon talked to her for quite a while and he didn't notice the time passing so he was very surprised when Dacey who had opened her mouth to ask him another question suddenly stood up and exclaimed, "She's here!" before happily running into the sea.

"Who's here," Jon asked bewildered but stood up nonetheless to follow her. When he was about a foot away from the sea and Dacey was waist-deep in the sea, Jon suddenly saw a small bump coming of water moving toward them rapidly. Alarmed, he stooped and asked, "What's that?"

"That's my dolphin friend," Dacey replied, without turning around. The bump began circling Dacey before rushing into her and knocking her into the water. Dacey laughed and got back up, scolding the dolphin, "Stop! Don't do that! Cory! I am not here to play with you today," while rubbing the small head that had popped up and was squeaking excitedly, "I brought a friend here to meet you—Jon what are you doing there come closer!" she waved
toward Jon excitedly while her other hand played with Cory.

Jon looked at Dacey incredulously as he stepped into the water. "You have a dolphin as a friend?" he asked.

Dacey's face lit up as she replied, "Yes! I found her injured on the shore a few years ago when she was just a baby. I helped her, and she became my friend. Her name is Cory. Do you think I can warg into her?" Her eyes sparkled with hope.

"I'm not sure, I would have to check—Ahhh," Jon suddenly stumbled backward in fear as the "Dolphin" finally emerged for him to see Cory in her full glory, "That's not a dolphin!" he exclaimed. "It's a baby ORCA!"

"Eh! What's the difference," Dacey asked with a tilt of her head, still standing at her place and playing with Cory.

Jon shook his head in disbelief. "You don't know the difference between a killer whale and a dolphin? Haven't you ever read a book?"

"Really! That's amazing," Dacey said excitedly, ignoring Jon's comment about dusty old tomes that she detested with her core, "You hear that Cory, you're really strong,"

"Cory" the Orca squealed and bumped her head gently onto Dacey as if she could feel her friend's happiness. Jon had seen a documentary in his last life that explained that Orcas were really intelligent sea creatures and didn't consider humans as a part of their diet so they weren't as dangerous to humans but seeing it with his own eyes was a very different thing.

The Orca was about 15 feet or about 4.5 meters long which meant that she was still in her childhood phase as he knew that they grow up to be about 32 feet.

"So tell me," Dacey asked again, "Can I warg into her,"

Jon opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to articulate his feeling but ultimately he just shook his head and decided to go with the flow. He closed his eyes and sent a scattered intent of his mind that he usually did and almost immediately he could feel the only two minds nearby. It was easy to see that the simpler mind belong to the baby orca and the complex squiggly-shaped mind belonged to Dacey.

"Ah—" Jon exclaimed and immediately opened his eyes in surprise when he noticed that there already existed a preliminary bond between the two of them, and while it was very fragile at the moment, it would be easy to strengthen it.

"What happened? Tell me. Can I warg into her,"

"I can say for sure that you definitely can," Jon nodded.

"Yes! You hear that Cory. That's amazing," Dacey started jumping in happiness and playing with her.

...

Later that day after an extensive talk between Lord Stark, his bastard, and Lady Mormont, it was announced that Jon would stay as a ward at Bear Island for about two years. Lord Stark left after staying there for a week and the work on the port started a week after that with a lot of scepticism from the locals.

///

If you can't wait to read ahead go to: patreon.com/lazywizard

 

<A few years later>

It was the hour of the wolf, said to be the darkest part of the night, a time when you wouldn't even be able to see your fingers. The moon, waxing and waning, cast an eerie glow upon the ocean, illuminating the waves with a silver light. A lone ship drifted across the expanse of the Sunset Sea, the Sea West of Westeros, without a care in the world.

And why would they care? Since the crew of the ship had little to fear at night since the only obstacles they could run into out here would be the occasional storms which didn't seem to be a possibility considering the calm weather and open sea stretching out before them.

The darkness of the night made it impossible to see anything beyond the ship's wooden planks which meant it was almost impossible for a night attack to happen as there was no way to find the location of any ships at nighttime and any potential pursuer could be easily scouted from far away during the day so no ships were ever afraid any kind of night attack.

And since they were quite a bit away from the coast there was no need to pay any special attention to reefs and rocks so the captain only left about three people on the lookout while the rest of the crew slept peacefully with the gentle rocking of the ship.

Now, different cultures in Westeros followed different rules for sailing at night. For ex: if you asked any Riverlander they would tell you that it was stupidity to sail at night. As they were mostly accustomed to travelling through rivers, they had a habit of mooring their ships to the coast at night so that they can rest on land and not have to worry about damaging their ships on rocks and reefs.

Same with the fleets of Reach and Westerlands, they too do not prefer to travel at night and sail their ships hugging the coast while travelling from Port to Port. And if for some reason they are too far away from the coast, they lower their sails and anchor themselves at sunset hoping to not drift too far away from their path when the sun rises.

The exceptions to this case are the Ironborns, they are so skilled at seafaring and navigating through the knowledge of the Stars and Constellation which had been passed from their ancestors. That they only need a handful of their crew awake at night to make sure that their ships are going in the right direction given the winds are in their favour.

One of the main reasons they are known for their speed is their ability to travel at night. Albeit at half the speed compared to the day since they still lower their sails halfway through so as to not move too fast.

Now the ship mentioned earlier cleared every checkpoint that you would associate with the Ironborn. They were sailing even though it was night and even though the seas were at their calmest there were about three people
on board that were on the lookout and of course, they displayed no coat of arms on their sails which in these parts most probably meant Ironborn.

Suddenly, a ship appeared on the horizon, its resemblance to the previous ship strikingly uncanny. The vessel glided through the water noiselessly, its approach masked by the cover of darkness. Out of sight of the single torch on board the Ironborn ships, it came to a halt.

The Ironborn ships had only one torch burning as a safety measure, as fire was a constant threat to the vessel. The limited space on the ship also meant that stocking too much wood was impractical, and they could not afford to waste valuable space that could be used for more essential and expensive items. Therefore, unless it was necessary, they refrained from lighting more than one fire aboard the ship at night.

The eerie silence was soon broken by the sound of smaller rowboats being lowered from the new ship. Each boat was manned by about five lightly armoured men and women carrying various weapons. One last boat was lowered but this one only had a single man.

Jon signalled to the other four boats to gather around him, and he whispered softly, "There are three lookouts, two asleep and one barely awake. I'll take them out, but be ready in case anything goes wrong. And you," Jon suddenly turned and pointed towards the tallest man on his right, "I don't want a repeat of last time so don't shout before you attack this time otherwise I'll feed you to Dacey's Orca,"

The man sheepishly rubbed the back of his head while the rest snickered softly, one of the women snorted and said, "As if Cory would ever his fat ass,"

The tension among the northerners on this excursion dissipated slightly. It was a mixed group of men and women, each armed with a different weapon, but the daggers they carried on their hips would probably be the only ones seeing action that night. Jon nodded toward them one last time before he silently rowed his boat toward the target ship.

"How does he manage to take out the lookout every time?" the sheepish man asked Jon's second-in-command, Dacey, in a hushed voice.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Dacey quipped nonchalantly, straining to catch a glimpse of Jon who had already reached the ship.

Jon had been blessed with good fortune in the past few years. He had hit puberty early, giving him a height that was not lacking at all lacking among the people of Bear Island. Years of systematic exercise and a careful diet had ensured a powerful set of muscles that were primed for speed, agility, and surprising strength. His genes were also in his favour - he inherited his prince of a father's good looks and his mother's wild beauty, enhancing
his natural charm and confidence.

As a result, Jon exuded an aura of charisma that was hard to ignore. He commanded attention effortlessly, whether here on the ship or in a social gathering. His confidence and natural leadership qualities were evident to all those around him, earning him the respect and admiration of his peers. The last few years had indeed been kind to Jon, and he had made the most of his blessings to become the best version of himself.

Jon calmly put down the oars and, taking his Weirwood bow in his hands, stood up in a balanced position. He knocked an arrow and raised his bow at a 70° angle, appearing to aim blindly from afar. The base of the boat he was on was much lower than the ship, making it impossible for him to see anyone on it, let alone shoot them. Fortunately, the darkness of the night concealed Jon's actions from the people in the rowboats, who would have had many questions otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, Jon made some final adjustments to the bow's angle with his quiver just a few inches away. At that moment, his mind was not completely in his body. About one-fourth of it was in Frost, who was circling high above in the night sky.

Using Frost's perspective, Jon was able to see through two different viewpoints simultaneously. It was an incredible feeling as if he was playing a game from both first- and third-person perspectives at the same time, and his mind processed the information seamlessly. The third-person perspective, viewed through Frost's eyes, provided an incredible amount of zoom and depth, allowing Jon to see fine details with ease.

He had never stopped working on his archery skills and it had taken months and months of practice with Frost for him to be able to pull off the shot that he was about to do. A shot that would be impossible for anyone else but him.

The three people on the lookout were not all on the same side, two figures were perched on the right side, with one barely awake and trying to count the stars to pass the time while the other snored loudly. On the left, a drunk figure had long fallen asleep.

The scene on the deck was eerie and quiet, save for the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship's hull and the occasional creaking of the wooden boards. The only sailor awake felt the salty sea spray on his face, and the cool breeze that blew across the deck left a chill on his skin.

"Ah! Shit! I forgot the count again," he grumbled to himself and was just about to start from the beginning when he noticed a small dot in front of the moon that gradually grew larger. With a sudden realization, he widened his
eyes but it was too late as an arrow pierced his eye, killing him instantly. His body fell to the deck with a soft thump, waking up his nearby friend who met a similar fate as he too was killed by an arrow through his eye.

The last person on the lookout didn't even get the courtesy as he died in his sleep. The Drowned would soon have a very confused sailor on his hands.

Jon's movements were swift and precise as he sprang into action. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed a rope with a hook attached to it and swung it a few times before flinging it. The hook would have made a loud sound normally but it didn't this time since Jon threw the hook just above him, and Frost darted through the air, effortlessly grabbing the hook and sticking it to the ship before flicking away. The whole process took less than a
second, and they did it with the ease of seasoned professionals.

With the hook secured, Jon wasted no time in starting his ascent. Despite carrying a bow, a quiver, a sword, and four ropes tied around his chest, Jon climbed with agility and silence, reaching the ship in mere seconds.

Upon reaching the target ship, Jon quickly began attaching the other ropes he was carrying to the ship, securing their hooks with the same deftness as before. Once he finished, he made his way to the ship's only source of light and carefully removed the torch from its stand. He shook it in the air according to a specific pattern for a few seconds before replacing it.

Back on the rowboats, Dacey immediately caught Jon's signal, "Let's go," she said, taking charge of her boat and leading the others toward the side of the ship where the ropes were.

As the boats aligned in a straight line with a rope just above them, the northerners began to climb with skill and precision. Two people remained behind to look after the boats while the rest made their way onto the ship.

As the last person climbed aboard, Jon emerged from his resting place, standing tall and taking charge. "We're in luck," he said after closing his eyes briefly, "There are about 25 people on board, excluding the three that just died, and every one of them is asleep."

Addressing Dacey directly, he continued, "I want you to take 10 warriors and head to the common area on the lower deck. You'll find 15 people sleeping on hammocks - take them out," Dacey nodded and immediately moved toward the door, ready to carry out Jon's orders.

"The rest of you will be going to the rooms on the upper deck," Jon instructed the remaining team members. "The doors are already opened from the inside, so you shouldn't have any problems." With a nod of understanding, the team members moved inside without asking a single question, leaving Jon behind to keep watch.


Jon wasn't alone for long as he looked down to find his new friend who had arrived from inside the deck. It quickly climbed his legs and scurried up his waist to Jon's shoulder. He patted it gently with a smile and said, "Good job, Gan. You're getting better at opening doors," Jon said, as he walked towards the ship's deck and he squeaked excitedly in response.

Gan was a small mouse that he had befriended recently on one of his excursions, to assist him in his endeavours and he was a really feisty and intelligent mouse, capable of doing many things that a normal mouse couldn't.

The small mouse suddenly started to chirp and squeak with its whiskers quivering furiously, "What! Frost was ruff with you again," Jon asked, his brow furrowing as he listened to Gan complain to him about how when Frost brought him to this ship to scout she wasn't gentle with him at all and even squeezed him tightly and how he almost died when she threw on board.

Jon looked up at the dark night sky where Frost was slowly circling and even though it wasn't possible for a human eye to see the sky, he was able to see as Frost haughtily turned her heady away at his reproaching gaze.
Frost was always indignant when he made her do something as mundane as being a Chauffeur for his mouse, Gan, an animal that she wouldn't even consider eating for a snack.

Knowing that it was a losing game, Jon turned back to Gan and said in a soothing voice, "Sorry, Gan. I'll try and reason with her so that she's more gentle with you next time and as an apology, I'll treat you to the feast of cheese when we get back, Alright," and Gan immediately started squeaking in delight at the suggestion.

About 15 minutes later as Jon was feeding his mouse he saw his team of Northerners coming out of the door which meant that the fighting or rather the slaughter have been completed, some of them had blood on them while the others were looking clean.

"Looks like it was an easy one, eh?" Jon asked and Dacey nodded with a proud smile before she turned and whistled loudly. The ship that bought them here got the signal and started approaching them for the rest of the crew to join them.

"Well then! Let's if the bastards looted something before we looted them," Jon smirked before moving inside.
...

A few hours later, Jon was holed up in the Captain's quarters, poring over a diary in search of clues as to which Ironborn house the ship they had just looted belonged to. Since almost all of their so-called nobles had a fleet or
two of their own be it a small one or a big one. This was a familiar ritual for him, as he had made a habit of reading through the Captain's logbook after each successful raid.

Even though most Ironborn were illiterate, there had to be at least one person on the crew who could read and write whether he be the captain or the first mate since it was he who needed to keep track of the number of days they'd been sailing or when was last time they stocked on food or how many days till they reach the next port and stuff like that. He needed to keep track of every single day as it passes by if he doesn't want to end up in the
middle of nowhere without any food or water.

As he read through the diary, an interesting piece of information caught his attention. It appeared that the Ironborn crew had originally consisted of three ships, but they had recently raided a few vessels from the Reach.
However, their targets had fought back more fiercely than expected, resulting in the loss of almost half of their crew and two of their ships sinking.

Suddenly the door creaked as Dacey entered the room with a serious look on her face and said, "We found people down there,"

"And..." Jon asked calmly, "You know what to do. Just get someone to care for them until we reach the next port and then we'll leave them with enough gold so that they can take a trip home wherever that is,"

Even though it was disgusting, Jon had gotten used to this by now, since their targets Ironborn, had a habit of bringing back Women as the so-called Salt wives and Men as thralls when they return home. And since Dacey's Orca Cory, their scout, only picks up ships that are returning to the Iron Islands they almost always have the displeasure of seeing up close the cruelty of the Ironborn.

"Since this one's a little special," Dacey said with a shrug, "I thought you'll want to know,"

"What is it," Jon said, finally looking up from the Diary toward Dacey in curiosity, "Are they a noble or something?"

"Yes, she's a young girl," Dacey nodded, "From the Reach,"

"Which Noble?"

"Apparently she's a Tyrell,"

"What? A Tyrell!" Jon exclaimed, his heart skipping a beat.

He tried to recall if there was any mention of a Tyrell girl being kidnapped in the original timeline, but his mind drew a blank. and the only Tyrell girl he knew of in the original timeline was the most famous one and he hoped with all his might that it wasn't her because if it was then it would mean that he had derailed from the Cannon a lot more than he expected.

 

Dacey led Jon down the spiralling stairs into the dank depths where the Ironborn imprisoned their captives. The oppressive humidity and putrid stench in the air were enough to quash anyone's appetite. If there was one thing you could always count on finding aboard an Ironborn ship, it was a prison for their thralls.

Over the past few years, Jon had painstakingly assembled a special crew from scratch handpicking skilled and trusted warriors from Winterfell, Bear Island, and a few neighbouring holdings. All of them underwent rigorous training in a nearby secret place to excel in sneak attacks and naval combat. And as they gathered experience they have become somewhat of an expert in hunting down Ironborn vessels to bolster Bear Island's fleet.

Hardly a month went by without their successful pursuit and capture of one or two ships and of course, most of the credit went to their scout Cory, Dacey's orca. So while the years had been very helpful in boosting Bear Island's nonexistent fleet, hunting Ironborn also had a very repulsive side effect.

The whole crew got to see first-hand all kinds of atrocities committed by the Ironborn against their thrall prisoners and so-called Salt wives. And after the first few times, Jon had learned to suppress his disgust, though he avoided the prison whenever possible. Seeing those atrocities was also one of the reasons Jon's crew never hesitated in completely massacring any Ironborn crew they come across.

"It is right down here..." Dacey said as she lowered her head due to the low ceiling and entered the gloomy prison, with Jon following closely behind.

As Jon descended, he caught sight of one of his men, Harold, standing guard outside a grimy, wet wooden prison divided into three cells. Currently, only one of the cells held two girls—an older one, dressed as a maid, who regarded him with vigilance and fear in her eyes, and a younger girl who clung to the older girl in fear as they entered.

The sight of the place and the knowledge that it likely held numerous female prisoners was too disheartening for Jon but he had accepted long ago that he was in a place where things like these were happening all around the world every single hour.

Jon was relieved to realize that his initial assumption was incorrect—the younger girl couldn't be Margaery since she appeared closer in age to Sansa.

Dacey noticed him standing there, observing the captives and offered an explanation. "The older girl serves as a maid in their household. It seems she shielded the Tyrell girl and convinced the Ironborn scum that they could
fetch a higher ransom from the Reach if she remained 'unspoiled,'" Dacey concluded, her face contorted in disgust.

Jon nodded before he suddenly turned toward the massive Man who was standing beside the door with a sad look in his eyes and asked in a teasing tone, "Why didn't you unlock the door, Harry? Afraid of a little girl, are you?" He was trying to ease the mood a little.

"Of course not," Harry retorted immediately. He was Harold, a former fisherman from Bear Island, and also the one who Jon had warned last night not to shout before attacking. He was somewhat of a comic relief for the group Jon had created even though he was one of his most fierce warriors, he was also a little stupid so they always made fun of him.

"I think, Jon, he's still bothered by that story you shared by the fire a few nights ago," Dacey whispered loudly, grinning. "You know, the one about the House of Black and White and how they send young ones as assassins.
He probably thinks the little girl is some kind of assassin."

"N-No! I didn't mean—I mean—Ugh," Harold stumbled over his words, flustered by their teasing. With Jon and Dacey snickering at him, he hastily excused himself, "I'll go check on... some things," and made his way back up the stairs. Jon heard a small snort of amusement coming from the prison, and when he looked, he saw a pair of eyes peering at him from the maid's protective embrace.

"Well then..." Jon said, waving his hand toward the prison. It was a signal for Dacey to open the door, but she remained motionless, causing Jon to look at her quizzically.

"What? Don't give me that look," Dacey shrugged. "I don't have the key. Do you think I searched every person I killed?"

"Ahem... Anyway, let's consider our options," Jon dismissed the awkwardness, resting his chin in his hand as he pondered. "If I'm correct, the keys should likely be with the person killed closest to here, and the bodies shouldn't have been disposed of yet—"

Dacey rolled her eyes and strode toward the door. Taking her mace from her waist, she smashed the lock in a single strike, causing the maid to gasp in surprise.

"—Or you can do that," Jon finished with a weak smile as Dacey smirked at him. Shaking his head, he addressed the maid, "Come on. Let's go somewhere cleaner and brighter than here, and we'll get you something to eat."


...
It all began with that cursed Starkhorse.

Tara could still recall that day vividly, as clear as the flowing waters of the Mander. Little Lady Margery had been to the market at the bustling port for a normal excursion, she was browsing through the goods that the merchants bought to Highgarden when she overheard a merchant from Lannisport gushing about a marvellous invention known as the Starkhorse

Like the child she was, Margery approached the merchant and bombarded him with questions. Learning that it was a wooden horse suitable for riders of all ages, even little girls like her, she was overjoyed as she had been having difficulties riding a horse and was very envious of her brother Loras who was a natural.

Immediately, she expressed her desire to purchase one, but her excitement was dashed when the merchant explained that only a limited number of Starkhorses were available in Lannisport, his hometown and that they were a speciality primarily made in the North so it was difficult to get a hand on them as the few people who had them weren't very keen on selling them.

But Lady Margery, it seems was adamant this time so the moment she went back to Highgarder she immediately threw a rare tantrum at her father and Lord Mace, bless him, was in polite words, a pushover and immediately agreed with his daughter's request without giving it much thought.

So two ships were arranged to be sent toward Lannisport immediately so that they could buy the Starkhorse thingy his daughter wanted. Little Alla, Margery's friend and aspiring lady-in-waiting, who had longed for travel, accompanied her. Tara, Lady Alerie's maid, joined them as well.

And as for the reason they didn't even think of sailing straight to North to buy these Starkhorses, where they were made, was an obvious one, 'Ironborn'.

Any ships that wanted to sail from Reach, Dorne or Lannisport to the North had to go through the chain of Islands where every single Noble family had fleets of ships that they liberally used to pirate, even though at the moment they didn't do it too openly due to the recent war.

And the journey by road from Reach to the North would be long and arduous and more importantly incredibly expensive. It was also one of the reasons there was no trade between these kingdoms. So they only had one
option from the beginning.

And for a few days, everything was fine, the weather was good, the winds were in their favour and they were making good time for Lannisport but it was then that they ironically encountered three Ironborn ships, the very
thing they were avoiding.

Out of nowhere, just before sunset one day, the Ironborn descended upon them. The Ironborn were known across the world for their speed so the captain of the ship knew escape was futile. Gambling on battle, he hoped to defy the odds, but alas, they lost that wager.

Every single warrior present on their ships fought valiantly to their last breath and Ironborn who hadn't been expecting such resistance incurred huge losses both in people and ships. It was also probably the reason they slaughtered every single person without taking any thralls in their anger.

Tara and little Alla were the only survivors, having hidden themselves during the onslaught. Yet luck was not entirely on their side and they were found out soon after the fight was over. Fortunately(Or Unfortunately) for Tara, the Captain found her pretty enough to consider taking her as a salt wife and little Alla was spared because of Tara's urging him about her prize as a ransom as she had tricked him into believing that she was the daughter of
Lord Mace.

Thus, Tara found herself imprisoned, enduring the aftermath of her ordeal at the hands of the captain. She sought solace in comforting little Alla, succumbing to the despair that threatened to consume her.

Then, two days later in the dead of night, the sounds of battle reached her ears. She had been equally hopeful and scared at that time, hopeful that somehow their Home had gotten news of their peril and sent a rescue party and scared that the attacking party could just be another band of pirates, potentially even more brutal.

When the towering Northerner entered the prison cell, Tara braced herself for the worst. However, to her surprise, the giant figure merely surveyed the surroundings before inquiring about her identity. Upon learning that she hailed from the Reach and had a little girl from House Tyrell with her, he immediately sent the information up the chain. And a minute later entered the Man or rather the teen along with the woman named Dacey, and almost
immediately he got them freed from their prison.

And now she was in the Captain's room standing along with little Alla who was trying her best to look like a noble in front of the teen who seemed to be the leader around here and beside him stood the woman Dacey from before, a beautiful but a wild woman who was too comfortable with a mace for Tara's taste.
...

"So, tell me, what is your name?" Jon inquired, standing at ease behind the desk. A plate of apples and other provisions that were usually available on a ship were placed before him, which he had already encouraged the girls to partake in.

With a respectful bow, the maid promptly responded, "I am a maid at Highgarden, Milord. I serve Lady Alerie herself, who, if you are not familiar, is the wife of Lord Paramount—"

"I am aware of who she is," Jon interjected, flashing a smile, before turning his attention to the young girl with brown eyes and hair. He addressed her kindly, "And what is your name?"

Casting a swift glance at the maid, the girl said in a single breath, "I am a Tyrell and I am sure that if you bring me back to Highgarder you will han-hand-handchomely rewarded,"

Amusement danced in Jon's eyes as he observed the little girl's attempt to not look intimidated He then shifted his gaze to the maid, who he was sure had taught the little girl to say exactly those things, "Now, correct me if I'm mistaken, but the only daughter of Lord Mace I know is named Margaery Tyrell, said to be the most beautiful flower in the Reach. However, she is even older than me. So, you're not suggesting that you're Margaery, are
you?"

"That is—Umm," The little girl was flustered and immediately looked at the maid in panic who instantly stiffened. It seems they had not counted on Jon being knowledgeable about Lady Margery's age.

It was clear to Jon that their intention was for him to mistakenly take the little girl as Margery, which the maid probably believed would improve their chances of survival. He was sure that this would have easily worked on the Ironborn who were said to be even more isolated than the North with the South.

"Ah, it seems there's a misunderstanding here," Jon remarked, his tone soothing, as he tried to calm the girls before him, "I am not trying to find out about your identity for ransom or anything like that. I can assure you that I would try my best to make sure that you reach your home as safely as possible no matter who you are,"

The maid remained sceptical, reflecting the negative perception of Northerners in the South, where they were often considered barbarian, and Dacey wasn't helping much, with her amused expression and leisurely eating the apple that was surely from the Maid's ship before they were looted by the Ironborn.

"How about this..." Jon took a deep breath and spoke with the utmost solemnity, "I promise you, in the name of my father Eddard Stark, the Lord Paramount of the North, that I mean you no harm. I will do everything in my power to ensure your safe return to the Reach, regardless of who you are,"

The little girl gasped, her eyes widening with realization. The maid, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes and asked with caution, "Are you Robb Stark?"

"No I am not Robb Stark," Jon shook his head and before Tara could ask any follow-up question he said with a charismatic smile, "I am his more handsome half-brother, Jon Snow,"

Understanding dawned in the maid's eyes, while the little girl blurted out, "You're Lord Stark's bastard—" Before she could continue, the maid swiftly covered the girl's mouth, offering a deep bow of apology to Jon. "I beg your
forgiveness, milord. She is but a young girl who knows no better. Please, forgive her—"

"No need to worry," Jon assured them, gesturing for them to rise from their bowing positions, "As I promised you I won't hurt you and she didn't say anything wrong—I am a bastard and I am not really offended by it or anything,"

Still unsure, the maid cautiously observed Jon and calmed down when he didn't show any sign of anger, which bastards usually had in their eyes when their parentage was mentioned. She was still effectively under their mercy at the moment and didn't want to provoke him so she immediately gestured toward little Alla who got the meaning and said with a remorseful bow, "I apologize for my rudeness, MyLord,"

"As I said you have no need to apologize and I am not a lord," Jon replied patiently, "Now I believe it is time you tell me who you are and where you were headed,"

After a brief pause, the maid took a deep breath and began, "I spoke the truth, Milord. I am Lady Alerie's maid, and this young girl," she gestured towards the child, "is a Tyrell, though not from the main branch. She is the daughter of Ser Leo Tyrell and Lady Alys Bessbury. She is Lady Margaery's cousin and is also in training to be her Lady-in-Waiting..."

Jon pondered the information for a moment, recalling one such character in the ASOIAF novel who came with Margery to King's Landing as her aide and was also the one who befriended Sansa, among other things.
"...and while on a trip to Lannisport to buy some Starkhorses we encountered those pirates who even though had no obvious sigil I am sure were part of the Ironborn—"

"Wait, did you say Starkhorse?" Jon's curiosity peaked, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Yes, Milord," The maid continued to call him a lord, probably in the hopes that he would be flattered but Jon didn't care about it at all, "Lady Margery had heard about it and wanted one so we were going to Lannisport where it is said to be available,"

When the Starkhorse Factory in Bear Island finally started producing at a smooth pace and he was satisfied with their amount of Stock. Jon felt that it was time for him to fulfil his vision of selling Starkhosrses to all the cities in Westeros and Essos. Starting with Lannisport, the nearest major city in the West, Jon embarked on a slow and deliberate introduction of his Starkhorses to the market, releasing a few batches at a time over the past few
months.

However, the volume of exports remained relatively low. The trade relied solely on their own ships, as no merchant fleet dared to navigate the treacherous route between Lannisport and Bear Island.

They were the only ones who could sail away from the coast using easy directions provided by Jon with Frost's help or if he wasn't available, Dacey was also a good navigator with Cory's help. This allowed them to navigate
a course that steered clear of the Iron Islands by a large margin. With each Ironborn ship, they captured, their fleet's size grew, giving Jon hope that they would soon have enough vessels to export as much as they desired.

Yet, the resounding success in Lannisport took Jon by surprise. He had hoped to impress local merchants with a few Starkhorses and secure them as distributors. This approach was preferable to handling the buying and selling himself, which would have required establishing a shop and establishing connections with local nobility—a hassle he sought to avoid.

Regardless, Jon continued steadily supplying Lannisport with batches of Starkhorses, enjoying a higher profit margin than the ones sold in the North. On his selling trips, he also took the opportunity to purchase inexpensive local products from the Westerlands, bringing them back to bolster the economy in the western part of the North, which didn't enjoy a port like the White Harbour.

And he was just looking for a way to do the same in Reach, so when the wonderful opportunity presented itself before him he was ecstatic. Because he knew that if he played it exactly right then not only would he be able to penetrate the market of Reach, but he would also be able to access their dirt-cheap corps which would be a boon for the whole of the North.

"Ah—You must be hungry," Jon smiled warmly as he addressed the maid and the young girl. Then he turned to Dacey and requested, "Dacey can you get someone to give them a room and also provide them with some food, I think they deserve it after their harrowing experience,"

Dacey nodded in understanding, taking both girls with her as they gratefully followed along. Left alone in the room, Jon pondered for a while before reaching a decision. The first order of business was to write a letter to his father, Lord Stark. If he wanted to fully seize this opportunity, he would need to wield some of his father's authority and influence.

 

The wind whipped through Tara's hair as she stood on the deck of the ship, her gaze fixed on the spectacle unfolding before her. The crew were going through their usual morning training and Dacey Mormont, the formidable female warrior from the North, was going through the younger crew members one by one with ease and grace that she had never expected from a woman with a Morning Star.

Several days had passed since Tara and little Alla were rescued from Ironborn captivity, and Tara couldn't be more grateful. Jon Snow stood at the ship's forefront, with Alla clinging to him as if he were her blood brother. Tara couldn't fathom how Jon had so quickly charmed the shy girl transforming into her newfound best friend.

Little Alla was curious about everything and was constantly asking Jon questions about one thing or another. And Jon who had two little sisters back home was indulging her expertly and while Tara was a little unnerved she also took solace in the fact that Alla had recovered from her traumatic experience as an Ironborn prisoner remarkably fast.

Jon Snow was standing outside the impromptu ring with little Alla and both were on the side cheering or instead, he was goading on the crew members who were being decimated one-sidedly by their vice-captain, "That's it, lads! Don't let her off easy! Show her what you're made of!"

"Show 'em what you're made of!" Alla echoed enthusiastically, cheering on Dacey, who had quickly become her idol.

A teen calling a bunch of big-ass Northerners 'lads' would have gotten his ass handed to him anywhere else but it seems that no one had problems with it on this ship. But that Teen also being the captain of the ship was already too unusual so it didn't matter too much.

"Come on, Dacey. You're taking it too easy on them," Jon yelled enthusiastically.

Dacey flashed him a cocky grin as she deftly dodged a spear thrust, countering with a swift strike to her opponent's chest. "But... What can I do, They are too easy!"

Struggling to maintain his balance on the swaying deck, her opponent grunted in frustration, narrowly missing a swing at Dacey. She effortlessly sidestepped, teasingly taunting him. "Aye, lad, keep your balance! Can't have you falling overboard, now can we? Cory hasn't had dinner in a while. You wouldn't want to become fish food, would you?"

Laughter erupted from the crew, and the fighter's face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and determination. He regained his footing and lunged forward, aiming for Dacey's midsection.

But she was ready, her reflexes sharp. With a swift twist of her body, Dacey spun around, mace connecting with the fighter's arm, sending his weapon clattering to the deck. "Better luck next time, my friend! Try to keep up!"

As the mock battles continued, the ship sailed steadily through the ocean, and the crew member fighting pushed themselves harder to compensate for the constant movement. After a few more mock battles Dacey's craving had been satisfied and she allowed the crew to resume their duties. Everyone dispersed, attending to their assigned tasks.

Little Alla went with Jon to his room, where he was teaching her all kinds of things like drawing, reading her stories and playing games with her. A stranger wouldn't even be able to tell that both of them didn't know each other just a few days ago.

Tara was left alone on the deck, her eyes scanning the vast expanse of the ocean in every direction. Left, right, front, back—the unending stretch of water was all she could see, devoid of any sign of a coastline. The sight filled her with an overwhelming sense of fear, surpassing any other apprehension she had experienced.

She couldn't fathom how these Northerners were navigating at all as it was the first she had ever heard of someone on a long trip like this one not sailing along the Coast. Initially, she entertained the notion that the crew somehow used the sun as a guide, a concept she had heard stories about, albeit considering it absurd. But as the ship continued its relentless journey, never halting even on cloudy days or during the night, she dismissed
that idea.

Driven by curiosity, Tara discreetly questioned several crew members, only to receive the same response—they had no idea and that they left all the navigating to the Captain and the Vice-Captain. And she knew better than to ask Jon or Dacey because if it really was a new revolutionary way of travelling then there was no way they would even entertain the idea of telling it to a lowly maid like her.

Thus, she spent many sleepless nights wondering if they would be lost forever at the sea and that the ship would be the place where she would eventually die. But it seems she was the only one with such fear as the Northerners with their nerves of steel didn't seem to waste a single breath worrying about if they would somehow get lost on the sea.

And so when she went to sleep that night it was once again with a prayer to the Crone to guide her way to safety.

Thankfully her worry was for nought. When Tara woke the next day, an air of excitement permeated the crew as they went about their tasks with unusual vigour. When she asked about it they told her that according to Captain they would reach the Shore shortly.

True to their words, a few dozen minutes later, Tara spotted a port on the horizon, illuminated by the rising sun. Overwhelmed with emotion, she couldn't help but shed a few tears at the sight of land after the harrowing experiences she had endured. From the attack on her ship to Lannisport to her captivity and the cruelties inflicted upon her by the Ironborn, and finally, the uncertainty of ever reaching solid ground while aboard the ship with the Northern folk.

All of this was enough of her to stove off ever going on a ship for life.

...

As they entered the familiar port Jon was gratified to see that it was a little bigger than the last time, which was a familiar thing for him. Since he had arrived at Bear Island the construction for the port had been going non-stop without a single break. And he was proud to say that it was finally starting to look like a port instead of what it was before, a place where the locals tied their fishing boats.

He counted about 15 ships moored to the port at the moment and while it seemed like a big number, they were actually all their ships that they had "borrowed" from their generous neighbours to help them with pirating addiction. Since it would be wrong to call it a port when there was no foreign ship in there but that was how it had been for decades and it was hard to change it in a few years.

But Jon was working on a solution for that and he was happy to say that it was very close to being fulfilled. The main reason for the lack of foreign ships was very simple, lack of opportunities to make profits. If Bear Island
could somehow export valuable things like Gold or silk, there was no doubt that the merchants would somehow find a way to make a trip here one way or another. Unfortunately, their resources were limited to wood, furs, and other inexpensive commodities.

And even those could be used to entice the merchants if they could trade safely and regularly but sadly that hadn't been possible because of the Ironborn. Only wealthy and powerful merchants, capable of commanding their own fleet and hiring sellswords for protection against pirates, would even consider the journey. And they would only make such a trip if it was worth their while and it wasn't so at the moment.

Or of course, on the other end, you could also be a pirate or a slaver like the one who contacted Jorah with a connection to the Ironborn so that they don't loot you on sight.
Jon had gleaned some rumours from the Ironborn he had "gently" interrogated, that Asha Grejoy, the heir of Balon at the moment was already in the Disputed Islands at the moment learning the ropes of Family business. And
it was even said that Euron Grejoy was making regular trips there to reave the Essosi's to his heart's content.

Euron hadn't made his infamous Asshai trip yet so at the moment he was still a bit sane and was just one of the more notorious pirates and didn't have the fearsome reputation he would have in the future.

Anyway, the previously mentioned solution was that during the last few trips to Lannisport, he had been in contact with a few wealthy merchants who were interested in making a trip to the North to sell and buy if he somehow told them the so-called "secret" route he was taking. And that had given Jon the idea of establishing a small shipping company that would offer protection and secure passages for merchant vessels willing to join their fleet for a reasonable fee.

The only thing he was waiting for was a few more merchants to get on board so that they could create a proper fleet and make trade between the North and the South of the Western shore a reality.

After a while, the anchors were dropped, and both ships were securely moored at the bustling port. Almost immediately, a flurry of activity ensued as people began entering and unloading the cargo. Jon was one of the first to disembark along with Dacey and their guest Tara and Alla.

The moment he got down he was met with a short chunky, and muscular girl, with big hands, and thighs. Standing beside her was a younger girl who bore a striking resemblance to a youthful Dacey, clutching a small ledger in her hands.

"Jon! Dacey!" Lyra Mormont, the younger sister with the ledger, exclaimed with an exuberant smile, practically bouncing in place.

"Calm down, They are coming here whether you shout or not," the bigger girl said gruffly while rolling her eyes. She was Alysanne Mormont, the second eldest daughter of Maege also known as the She-Bear (no one said that to her face and lived though).

"Hey, kid," Dacey said with a warm smile and took her little sister in her arms and hugged her tightly, while greeting the older one with a smile, "How is it going, Aly,"

"Nothing much, just the usual," Alysanne said with a shrug and a soft smile.

Jon waited for the sisters to separate before he went toward Lyra and rubbed her head affectionately before asking, "How are you, Kid? Did you handle the port well while I was away?"

"I did! I didn't make a single mistake this time," Lyra proudly declared, showcasing the ledger she held. While Jon engaged in conversation with Lyra, Dacey introduced the two girls from the Reach to Alysanne. Jon had already instructed Dacey to accommodate them in the guest house, relieving him of any concerns regarding their well-being.

There were not a lot of literate and trustworthy people around this part so Jon had no choice but to teach little Lyra, Maege's daughter from the start so that one day when the port here becomes an actual port like the White Harbour, she would be well-prepared to take on the duties.

"I'll make sure to check that then," JJon replied, accepting the ledger from Lyra with a smile. Glancing over the recent entries, he inquired, "So where are the rest of the ships,"

"Well they are on their training trips," Lyra said gesturing enthusiastically, "Two are on their way to Barrowlands, three on the way to Torrhen's Square and a single one to Flint's island,"

The training system Lyra was talking about was part of a small system Jon had established here over the years.

After a few initial months and the success of his first few night raids, Jon had recognised one thing which was that the thing he would need the most in the future wouldn't be Ships but Sailors to sail them. So he worked out a system with Maege's assistance to help him with that.

What they had done was establish a small informal school that would produce a certain quality of sailors for them. There were three levels to this school.

The first level was the actual school which was just a small building near the Mormont Castle, where a few Veteran Sailor taught kids, teens, older men, women or anyone able-bodied from the nearby villages and castles, who came here to find a job or to become a sailor after hearing tales from the merchants about the money to be to made here.

Then for a few months, they were rigorously taught all the things they would require to work on a ship from rigging to tying various kinds of knots to how to raise a sail to even how to clean the deck and finally how to fight on a moving ship.

And after the veterans were satisfied with the few that passed their requirements they would send them to the next level where they would start learning hands-on on the ships. That is when they start to go on the so-called Training trips. These trips are usually taken from Bear Island to all the nearby Northern ports on this side such as Torrhen's Square, Barrowtown, and Flint's Finger and they even made a few trips to Moat Cailin.

And these trips were taken weekly which meant that not only did the prospective sailors get a lot of practice on relatively safer water. These frequent trips meant that Bear Island was not the only western port of the North that prospered. Since the ships almost always traded with the locals wherever they went there, it meant that they were making the locals richer a few gold dragons at a time with every trip.

The active trading along the western shores marked a significant boom for the overall economy of the North, reviving a dormant aspect of its commerce that hadn't been seen in centuries. And when Jon would eventually start making frequent trips down to Lannisport and Reach, it would be as if there would be a rebirth of the whole North, or at least that was a dream of Jon.

Anyway, after the trainee sailors completed enough training trips they would become proper sailors and get to go beyond Iron Islands and to be part of the Frost fleet. The Frost fleet is what the locals called it when Jon took as many ships as he could, filled with Starkhorses to brim with him to Lannisport and whenever he came back he bought back his ships filled with riches as well as products from Westerlands.

"All of this looks good, Lyra," Jon praised the young Mormont and she gave him a huge smile. She wasn't as good as her sister in combat and was more interested in Books and so when picked to train to be the future port master she was ecstatic and decided that she would work as hard as she could to succeed.

"Come on, Jon," Dacey said after finishing up arranging lodging for Tara and Alla with Alysanne, "Let's go to the Castle, Mother must have gotten the news of our arrival by now. And you know how she gets when she has to wait,"

"Alright then," Jon nodded and started to move with Dacey toward the castle after telling Lyra and Alysanne to take care of the new ship they had gotten. Evey time he got a new ship it first has to pass through a process so that it stops looking like an Ironborn's ship which involved some paint, some refitting and a few changes to sail.

He passed through the port, where a small market had cropped up over the past few months. Though it paled in comparison to bustling markets like White Harbour or Oldtown, the small market that had emerged here was a significant development for the people from nearby villages and holdings who had probably never left the confines of their village.

Jon looked around in pride as he saw the rapid changes the place, which was just a small fishing village with a few crofters, had gone through in a matter of a few years.

The establishment of the Starkhorses factory and the influx of goods brought by the ships had created numerous job opportunities in the area. Merchants engaged in trading activities between Bear Islands and the inland villages, while woodcutters, cart drivers, port workers, and sailors became prominent figures in the local workforce. And with the arrival of these jobs came an influx of money.

With newfound wealth came the irresistible urge to spend it. Soon enough, pubs, inns, blacksmith shops, and clothing stores began to spring up, catering to the growing demands of the burgeoning community.

"I could kill for a drink, right now," Dacey said longingly while looking at the pub they were passing by. Even from out here, Jon could feel the liveliness that was being created in there. The clanking of mugs, laughter, cursing and shouts Jon could hear from outside told him about the celebratory mood in there.

"You don't have to kill for that," Jon said with a wry smile while pushing a very reluctant Dacey towards their destination, "I am sure your mother won't keep us for long and then you can go for some drinks. I am sure our crew would also be already there by then too,"

"I hope so too," Dacey said, before she looked at Jon with a raised eyebrow, "And you still won't drink a mug or two,"

"As I told you already, the day I grow a beard is the day I drink my first glass,"

"Pussy..." Dacey scoffed.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Jon rolled his eyes at the expected remark.

While he didn't know exactly know what effects drinking from such a young age would have, he was sure there was a reason his previous world had a minimum drinking age. So to be on the safe side Jon had decided to abstain from that until he was reasonably old no matter how many names he was called.

They eventually arrived in front of the Castle door, which had been upgraded recently to a heavy Ironwood one. Maege had earned quite a bit of tax over the past few years with all this improvement and after she had paid her debts, the first thing she had done on Jon's suggestion was to invest in improving the infrastructure whenever and wherever she could.

They passed through the Longhall and arrived before the Lord's Solar. And as they approached closer, Jon could hear multiple loud voices coming from inside arguing about some kind of an attack.

Jon and Dacey exchanged glances and before Jon could even raise his hand to knock, Dacey opened the door forcefully causing an abrupt silence to fall upon the room. Jon rolled his eyes and followed after Dacey, inside the room there were three people, two men and one woman.

The woman standing imposingly behind the dest was of course Maege, the lady of Bear Island and beside her was the Master-at-arms here, a bear-like handsome man named Brandon and if the rumours were to be believed he was also the father of all of Maege's daughter. And the last man was the captain of guards, Pod, a bald man with wild whiskers and a foul mouth.

The moment the door was slammed open Maege angrily opened her mouth to curse the son-of-a-bitch that dared to slam her door but closed her mouth at the sight of her own daughter.

"What happened," Dacey asked her mother impatiently, "Who are you attacking,"

"You came at just the right time. One of Jon's minions sent a letter an hour ago," Maege said greeting Jon before she turned toward her daughter with a smile, "Some wildings were sighted making their way here,"

"How many? And how far?" Jon asked immediately.

"About fifty and the letter said they were a few days away," Maege said calmly before she asked with a smirk, "So, the two of you tired or are you ready to join the festivities,"

"Of course, we're going to join," Dacey said immediately agreeing for him without a care about his opinion, "And I'll be leading this time," she said to Jon with her hands on her waist.

Jon sighed, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "Fine," before he said, "It seems like you're going to miss the chance to get hungover,"

"There are few things I'll choose over alcohol but..." Dacey said with a smirk, "Bashing in some Wildling Skulls is definitely one of them,"

 

Sailing through the evening mist hanging low over choppy waters, a small fleet of about 10 make-shift rafts and battered boats, were making their way toward, their target, the coast of Bear Island. Bobbing and weaving like restless spectres against the grey backdrop of the sea, the Wildlings were trying to best to stay as silent as possible. On the makeshift vessels, rugged warriors adorned in furs and leathers glared at the island, their weapons glinting in the pale light.

"See, What'd I tell Ya? Huh?" A large imposing bearded man said pointing toward the coast, from the front of the leading boat, "It's still the same old fishing village like it always was. I've raided these shits more than three times in my life and I've never once failed,"

Looking at the coast, the rest of Wildling could see for themselves that the man was right, the port appeared empty, devoid of any significant ships or notable defences. The scattered tools left behind by the workers suggested an unfinished project.

It seemed that the workers had left their work midway and had gone to their homes for the day leaving their tools in disarray. There was nothing about the port that screamed danger and they could see cooking fires from the houses some ways which meant that everyone was having dinner at their homes without even leaving some sentry behind.

"B-But What about what Mance said?" One of the younger Wildlings asked while holding onto his wooden spears tightly, "And none of the men who went on the last few raids here ever returned. There must be something wrong—"

"Fuck Mance!" Greybeard growled dangerously, "That crow thinks he can fool us into believing that this fishing village somehow turned into a big port with giant ships in a few moons," He spat to the side straight into the face of the younger wildling.

"Ah! You—"

"What?" Greybeard barked.

"Nothing," The young wildling looked away as he knew that he wouldn't survive if he didn't back down.

"That's why I brought along one of his brats," the bearded man continued, a malicious smirk creeping across his face. "When his own flesh and blood confirms what I say, they'll have no choice but to believe me. And when we return with plenty of ale, food, and women, they'll see Mance for the crow he is, hiding under that white cloak." His laughter echoed through the air, met with a mix of chuckles and disapproving grunts from his followers.

The Wildlings were aware of the bitter enmity between the bearded man, known as Greybeard, and Mance Rayder, the leader who had recently joined their ranks. Greybeard's failed attempt to steal Mance's wife, Dalla, and subsequent defeat in a duel had fueled the deep-rooted hatred between them.

As the fleet neared the coast, Greybeard raised his axe and rallied his men. "Besides, I've heard there are plenty of feisty women all over the Islands, enough for everyone here. You want to taste the she-bears of Bear Island, don't ya?"

"AYE!" "AYE!" "AYE!" "AYE!"

The Wildlings erupted in a chorus of cheers, their excitement reaching a crescendo. The prospect of victory, plunder, and women fueled their adrenaline, drowning out any lingering doubts. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and anticipation as they readied themselves for the impending raid on Bear Island.

.....

"AYE!!!"

On the other end, along the rugged coastline, a small band of warriors from Bear Island, both men and women, crouched in hidden alcoves and behind various structures, awaiting the perfect moment to strike. They were hiding so skilfully that the incoming wildling army had no idea if someone was even present at the port. Having gone through this routine numerous times, the defenders were well-practised in setting up ambushes, whether against Ironborn raiders or the Wildlings.

Crouched behind a large rock alongside Jon, Dacey couldn't help but scoff upon hearing the not-so-subtle shouts of "Aye!" from the attacking Wildlings. "How foolish can these barbarians be?" she murmured. "Shouting like that just before launching an attack. Do they not know how an ambush works?"

Rolling his eyes, Jon whispered teasingly, "Well, well, look who's talking. I recall a young girl who always loved to let out the loudest warcry, showcasing her fierceness. She would go something like, 'Ahhhh...Die! Fuckers!'"

"Shut up! I have no idea what you're talking about," Dacey retorted, trying to hide her embarrassment.

As the wildlings grew nearer, the archers prepared themselves lining their arrows and holding their bows tightly waiting for the order to shoot. They had experienced more than ten similar attacks in the past, including encounters with Wildling parties and Ironborn raiders and every time they had had ample to set an ambush due to Lady Mormont somehow getting the news of the attacks in advance.

And while the Smallfolk had no idea how she did it, they were just happy that they were having an increasing advantage in their fights against the invaders.

All of this had become possible thanks to the system Jon had devised during his time on Bear Island. Jon quickly realized that protecting the entire west coast with just Frost and Dory would be challenging since he couldn't always be present, and Dacey would also need to lead their fleet to various ports in his absence. This would mean leaving their home vulnerable which wasn't good so Jon thought of a way to solve that.

Thus, Jon began making regular trips to the villages along the western coast every few weeks. During his visits, he actively searched for potential wargs, utilizing the blood of the First Men that ran in their veins. To his surprise, there were more individuals with warging potential than he had anticipated.

So Jon went around searching for the perfect minions that would be able to create a protective net around the west coast with their companions whether they be sea animals or flying birds. He would mostly choose orphans or local kids and scrutinize their character for some time and if it seemed that they would be trustworthy he would bring them along to Bear Island.

He kept them close, teaching them the basics of warging so they could establish connections with the animals and birds he assigned to them from birth. And when they were adequately qualified they would go back to their respective villages where their animal companions would be able to easily keep track of their nearby places to be on the lookout for any kind of raids.

At the moment, there were five of these novice wargs, two boys and three girls, scattered across all the villages of the western coast and whenever they encountered enemies they were ordered to send a letter straight to Lady Mormont who had taken the default position of the defence commander.

And Jon paid them handsomely for their services which kept them happy enough to not blab about warging and all to the next person they meet.

Dacey suddenly noticed in her periphery that as the Wildlings came close to the shore, Jon was frowning fiercely with his eyes unfocused as if he was not completely here, and asked curiously, "Something amiss?"

"Yes," Jon nodded and his distant eyes suddenly focused on Dacey and said seriously, "There are too few of them... I counted twice just now, they are only 32 of them,"

"What?" Dacey exclaimed in surprise, squinting at the boats, but she knew that it was impossible for her to count them the way Jon did with his special method, so decided to just trust in his sums, "Maybe your minion was wrong?"

Jon shook his head firmly. "No, at least 10 to 15 of them are missing. It's too significant to be a simple mistake," he responded, his eyes momentarily losing focus before refocusing. "I sent Frost to scout the nearby villages... I hope I'm mistaken."

"We can't do anything about it now," Dacey murmured, signalling her fellow defenders. The hidden warriors rose from their concealed positions, a wave of anticipation sweeping through them as they prepared for the surprise assault.

Jon exchanged a nod with his fellow archers, and the moment Dacey raised her sword, they unleashed a small hail of arrows on the unsuspecting Wildlings who were in the midst of disembarking, their deadly precision immediately thinning the ranks of the oncoming enemy.

"Agh!" "Ugh" "Ahhh!!!"

Caught off guard, Grunts gasps, screams and cries of surprise came from the Wildlings. Admiringly most of them didn't even flinch at the ambush and with a bellow of war cry followed after the bear-like man with a grey beard and charged forward.

The shoreline quickly became a battlefield, with men and women slashing, parrying and fighting for their lives. And It was evident that the defenders held the advantage because they were better equipped with armour and leather, and had good quality steel against their opponent's bronze and wooden ones, and of course, they also had numbers on their side, so it was only a matter of time before they won.

Jon positioned himself at the rear, methodically firing arrow after arrow with deadly precision, targeting the larger and more dangerous foes first and he was always on the lookout for anyone who was having trouble with their opponents and helping them. The people of Bear Island had come to rely on his presence, as casualties were typically minimal with Jon at their backs.

Suddenly a ping went inside his head and Jon saw in the back of his mind, a small raiding party minutes away from a small fishing village, through Frost's perspective. Jon immediately searched for Dacey and found her fighting with the towering Wildling, one with a grey beard. She was running circles around him with her morning star and even though she was weaker than him, Jon knew that she would win eventually as the Wildling was already limping.

However, Jon had no time to spare. He raised his bow and swiftly dispatched the Wildling, shooting him through the eye. Dacey whipped her head around, her gaze locking onto Jon as he navigated the chaotic field toward her. Filled with anger, she growled, "I didn't need your help—"

"They are at the Whitebear Village," Jon interrupted her and said quickly, "The missing Wildlings are on their way to raid them and the villagers don't seem to have any defenders at the moment,"

"Shit!" Dacey's rage cooled instantly. Stepping away from the ongoing fight, she quickly ordered, "Take ten warriors and go. Perhaps you can make it—"

"No they'll just slow me down," Jon said backing away toward the rear where Peggy was already waiting for him as if she was just about to sprint, "I'll take the shortcut through the forest with Peggy. I just came to warn you,"

"NO!" Dacey shouted but the brat had already rushed away like wind on his monstrous horse, "Agh... Don't die you bastard!" she yelled after him before she looked back at the fight that was still going on and entered it with a war cry filled with anger and started smashing heads left and right with her Morningstar.

"Ahhh...DIE! YOU FUCKERS!!"

Meanwhile, Jon had swiftly entered the forest, expertly manoeuvring between the trees on Peggy. His horse effortlessly ducked under branches, leapt over shrubs, and evaded obstacles without hesitation.

Jon laid himself flat on Peggy, trying to minimize the air resistance as much as possible. His riding skills had become so refined that he synchronized his movements with Peggy's jumps and shifts, providing her with continuous support. And not only that he was also providing her intel on the terrain that would be coming far ahead and feeding the optimal path through it directly to her brain allowing her to traverse the forest with ease
while keeping her focus primarily on the immediate track before her.

Typically, even the swiftest and most experienced riders would require an hour to circle the forest and reach Whitebear Village, while a skilled hunter might take about half that time through the dense woods. However, Jon could cover the same distance in a matter of minutes. He could only hope it would be fast enough...
...

P.O.V Change

'She was so STUPID! She should have listened to Dalla and never should have believed that bastard,' Val mused in regret as she concealed herself among the leaves of a towering tree outside the small village.

Val could still remember the day that her sister had found that turn cloak injured while on a hunting trip. Val had been about to kill him just like any normal Freefolk would but her sister stopped her and then not only did she
not immediately kill him but she also brought him back to their tribe and tended to his injuries.

While Val had always known that her sister was a very kind woman, which was a rarity in the true North, she still didn't think that she was this stupid. Sadly she was the elder sister so ultimately Val had to listen to her no matter how much she hated it, but that crow not only did not leave after he got healed he became one of them and even had the nerve to steal Dalla for himself not that she resisted very much.

Now, Val normally wouldn't have much of a problem with her sister's partner but she just had to choose a Crow. And thing only went downhill after that as everyone began avoiding Val and Dalla, for nothing stirred greater disdain among the Wildlings than a crow. But Dalla was adamant about it and didn't budge even once even when Val threatened to leave her (not that she would).

And in her bitterness, she made a foolish mistake and agreed to join Greybeard when he proclaimed that he would raid Bear Island and disprove Mance's claim that it had become a big port now and was too dangerous to raid for supplies. Val had merely sought to spite her sister and Mance, who had been in a long-standing feud with Greybeard ever since his arrival and subsequent defeat in a duel.

Mance had become famous among the Wildlings when he proved to be able to regularly climb the wall to go over the other side and even live among these southerners for a few days without them ever recognising him for the Freefolk he had become. And somehow one thing leads to another and he had eventually become the leader of their tribe which was one of the big ones on that side of the wall.

And all the people who came on this raid were the ones who weren't happy with having a former crow as their leader but Mance had proved his skills in combat and his cunning more than enough times that they couldn't do anything about it.

A day ago Val separated from the main party because Greybeard had decided that too many people on the rafts and boats would make them too slow for the ambush and their eventual retreat with their haul, so he had broken the raid into two parties and Val had immediately jumped on the chance to go with the smaller party as she knew that the bastard Greybeard had started looking at her peculiarly was not good news.

Maybe he thought that since he couldn't get the older sister he would go for the younger one but Val was only 14 this year and had no intention of being claimed by that wretch nearing half a century. But she knew that she couldn't beat him so the only thing she could do was pray that he somehow died during the raid, and she swore that if she reached her home safely then she would always listen to her sister.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a piercing scream. Looking down, Val beheld a grotesque scene unfolding before her eyes. Greybeard's brother, leading this raid, yanked a woman by her hair, while her husband lay at his feet, bearing a severe axe wound across his chest, cursing vehemently at the laughing wildling.

The villagers had somehow known that they would be attacked so they had hidden behind trees and houses and peppered them with arrows. They had managed to kill five of them like that but their arrows eventually ran out and while they were good they were just not as fierce and good as the wildlings in combat, and it seemed that there was only a single man present in the whole village at this time so they eventually lost.

Just as the wildling prepared to drag the woman away, and hope seemed lost for the villagers, a swift whoosh resonated through the air. All eyes turned skyward, witnessing Greybeard's brother gagging, an arrow lodged in his throat. He collapsed, freeing the woman from his clutches.

The Wildling who were just about to revel in their successful raid looked toward the place where the arrow came from and witnessed a man leaping through the trees on a massive horse. With his curly hair flowing, he skillfully shot a second arrow that found its mark in the eye of a Spearwife peeking out of a house, bringing about an abrupt silence

Everyone seemed to startle awake at that moment as they recognised the threat the man presented. Simultaneously, cries of anger erupted, and they charged straight at the rider. The man, undeterred, continued his relentless assault, galloping toward the Wildlings while effortlessly shooting arrows.

Val was mesmerized by the unparalleled archery she was witnessing. Never in her life had she seen such skill, especially on horseback. He surpassed even Ygritte, the most exceptional archer she knew among the Wildlings. Before they could even reach him, he had already claimed the lives of half their group. Astonishingly, he didn't stop there. Swiftly placing his bow on his back, he drew a spear from his side and ran straight through
them while killing men and women left and right.

Before she knew it Val noticed that only three people were left of the wildling party that came along with her. The realization snapped her out of her daze, understanding that she couldn't cross back over the Wall alone. She
swiftly raised her bow, knocked an arrow and aimed it at the rider and shot it.

While she didn't possess Ygritte's exceptional skill, Val was a competent archer and could hit her target eight out of ten times and the arrow was going straight for the Kneeler's neck so she thought he would die for sure but unbelievingly the man, as if he had eyes at the back of his head, tilted his head slightly and the arrow just barely grazed his hair leaving him unhurt.

The man went back to fighting, unfazed, as if he hadn't just almost died due to an arrow. He had lost the spear by now in one of the three men's chests and was now fighting on foot with his sword with the last two and he was fending off their attacks so easily as if he knew their every move before they even struck.

'It had to be a fluke,' Val thought furiously and shook her head to clear it before taking a deep breath and raising her bow to try once more. She let loose an arrow, carefully choosing the moment when the man had just dispatched the second-to-last foe, leaving him off-balance. She was certain that this time he would fall this time. However, an even more unbelievable thing happened—the man somehow caught the arrow just inches from his throat, leaving Val dumbfounded.

Before Val could even process the insane feat she had just witnessed, she saw the curly-haired pretty boy look straight at her with annoyance before he went back to fighting the last man who seemed to be on his last leg.

Before Val could even raise her bow for the third time, an ice-blue shadow flicked past her hand and she yelped as the bow flew from her hand leaving a bruise on her hand. She looked around wildly for the assailant while barely hanging on to the tree branch she was sitting on. It took a few moments to even think of looking up and she yelped again when she found a huge ass blue eagle looking straight at her with its massive eyes.

Val swallowed hard, trembling as she reached into her cloak and pulled out a piece of jerky, offering it to the eagle. She stammered, "T-Take this. P-Please don't eat me!"
Val could swear to the old gods that the bird actually rolled her eyes before she flew away with a soft scoff or rather caw of disinterest. She almost cried tears of relief that she didn't get her eyes pecked and just didn't care
anymore.

Down below Jon had already finished up with the last wildling with nary a scratch on him and approached the villagers who had been assisting him from the side however they could. Jon knew that most of the men here were out fishing at the moment, the reason the only people he could see were all women except for the single man who was being helped by his wife to stop the bleeding in his chest.

"You're late, boy," the man grunted at Jon as he saw him approach.

"Sorry, old man," Jon replied with a familiar grin. "These Wildlings were cunning enough to attack the port simultaneously, and I was caught up there."

Groaning as his wife finished tending to his wounds, the man asked, "Are they all dead, then?"

"Yeah, almost," Jon responded, glancing toward a tree at the edge of the village. He wore a serious expression as he asked the man, "Did we lose anyone?"

"No. We knew that help had to be on their way so we mostly kept them away with arrows and you know how these bloody curs are, they never kill women if they could help it (to take them away), so the only one hurt is me... guess I should have been born a woman... HAHA,"

Jon laughed along with his crass joke which got him a strike from his wife making him yelp in pain and curse, "Dammit Woman, I am injured here,"

Leaving the bickering couple alone, Jon went to the deal with the last of the annoyance who was hiding in a tree.

...

'Please forget about me!' 'Please forget about me!' 'Please forget about me!'

Val fervently prayed as she observed the kneeler conversing with the villagers instead of heading directly toward her. Unfortunately, it seemed that the Old Gods were determined to disappoint her, as it wasn't long before the man stood up and purposefully made his way toward her.

She knew that escaping was useless with the horse grazing nearby so with shaky hands Val withdrew the dagger her sister had gifted her, which seemed especially small in her hands at the moment.

Before she could prepare herself, the man stood at the base of the tree, looking up at her. and after a few moments said calmly, "Why don't you come down? I promise I won't hurt you,"

Val scoffed, as if she would believe such as stupid lie and spat at him while cursing, "Fuck you, KNEELER!"

The pretty boy just sighed and after looking at the tree for a moment as if debating if it was worth it to climb he surprisingly turned his back to her with a shake of his head which was the stupidest anyone could do. Val thought for a moment that it was a trap but it she knew that it would be her final chance so she didn't hesitate and just jumped straight down with the dagger pointing straight at his neck.

"AHHHH—"

But sadly for her, it seemed that the man had been waiting for that as he calmly took a step to the right dodging her perfectly and Val slammed straight into the ground with a loud. *THUMP*

Val immediately tried to get up despite the fierce pain but the man didn't leave her a chance and pressed a knee to her back while locking her arms behind her, rendering her motionless. And after she eventually tired herself out from resisting him, he asked her in a boyish voice, "What's your name Blondie?"

"FUCK YOU!! YOU BASTARD!!"

"And how did you know that," Val could hear a smile in his voice as if there was an inside joke that only he knew about.

 

"Do you really think she's a wildling?" A 13 years old chubby boy curiously asked his fellow classmates.

Their teacher, a one-legged veteran sailor, had just freed them from their class where they had been taught how to unfurl the sail. And as they stepped outside, their path led them to the training ground where an enthralling duel was taking place. So all of them had gathered outside the duelling ring to watch the infamous daughter of Lady Mormont, Dacey fending off attacks from a fierce 14-year-old girl.

"She can't be a wildling," declared a confident seventeen-year-old girl, her tall frame and freckled face exuding assurance. "Look at her! She's too pretty for that!"

And indeed, the subject of their discussion possessed an enchanting beauty that captivated all who laid eyes upon her. With flowing locks of blonde, akin to the shade of dark honey, cascading down to her waist, and high, chiselled cheekbones, she embodied a rare wild beauty. Her eyes, a pale grey that could transform into a gentle blue under the morning light, only enhanced her allure.

In fact, she was probably the most beautiful person the people around here had seen for quite a while. The last beauty the Smallfolks had seen was the Southerner wife that Jorah Mormont, their lord at that time had married, the one he ran away with.

"B-But I heard that Jon bought her here just after the Wildling attack?" murmured a smaller boy, his voice tinged with a touch of fear, "A-And she can even speak the Old Tongue." Tales of wildlings, spun by his grandmother, had left him trembling at the mere thought of encountering them.

Val continued to attack Dacey with all her might, and for a girl who seemed to have received no formal training she was doing pretty good with the short sword, but alas Dacey was too good for her and was easily running circles around her and repeatedly beating her into the ground.

"Aye, but she's got the look of a southerner," interjected the tall girl, her confidence unwavering. "Just look at her golden locks and those icy blue eyes."

"Perhaps she's one of those girls they rescued from the clutches of the Ironborn during their last voyage," offered a helpful older girl, striving to shed light on the enigma. "You know, the ones from the Reach."

The oldest boy, wise beyond his years at twenty-five, shook his head with a gruff voice. "That can't be it. I've heard tales of those girls, and she doesn't fit the description. One's too young, and the other's too old."

"So, she really is a wildling?" exclaimed the boy with the prominent nose, his disbelief palpable.

"But why would Jon bring her here, then?" questioned the tall girl, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Doesn't that seem rather dangerous?"

"It's obvious isn't it," The oldest boy said nodding his head sagely, "Young Jon isn't so young anymore, he is now already old enough to know some things. He was probably smitten with her looks and couldn't bear to kill her,"

The tall girl shook her head, countering, "Or maybe she's just from one of the nearby villages. You know how Jon has a habit of rescuing teenagers and bringing them here for training."

"Or maybe... she is..." A mischievous voice whispered from behind, causing everyone to instinctively lean in, their ears pricked to catch the soft-spoken words. Then, the voice erupted, "NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS!"

The group of gossiping teenagers cringed as the loud exclamation assaulted their eardrums. In an instant, they snapped to attention, their bodies rigid, as they realized who had caught them.

Jon Snow stood before them, his gaze piercing and formidable. "Seems like you have plenty of time to waste on gossip," he growled menacingly. "Perhaps the instructors have been too lenient. I'll be sure to remind them to increase your workload when I see them. Now... Go Run around the ground 10 times,"

"Yes," they chimed, their voices a mixture of trepidation and obedience.

"NOW!!!"

Jon bellowed, his voice thundering through the air. The students scrambled into action, hastily beginning to run around the training grounds that would take even the fastest among them about 5 minutes to even complete a single round. So it would probably be hard for most of them to see this through, "Perhaps this will teach them a lesson about unnecessary gossip," he mused to himself.

He turned his attention to Val who was getting increasingly frustrated at her inability to defeat Dacey. There was a straightforward reason behind Jon bringing Val with him to Bear Island, which involved one of his goals.

Jon had three vague goals that he had created for himself since his toddler days when he had been confined to his crib, goals that he felt were essential for him to survive and live a life in this new world that he wouldn't regret.

The first goal was an obvious and basic one which was to make sure that he and his family( The Starks mainly) survived the unfortunate events and wars that they didn't in canon. As he grew older that group had expanded to include more and more of his friends from the north which made the task even harder.

His primary strategy to accomplish this goal was to prevent the war from occurring in the first place. And if it were unavoidable, then make sure that he somehow ends up on the winning side.

Now the second goal of his was a lot less noble and a bit selfish and it was a goal that a lot of dreamers across all the worlds had in common. The goal, that he had in his mind since his last life, was to travel around all the unique locations of the world but sadly he passed away before he could do that, but now that he had a new chance in this life in a world that was even more exotic and mysterious than the precious one he desired it even more and he wasn't going to let it pass through his hands this time.

He had been working very hard for his second goal and his dream over the last few years. He was of course talking about the fleet of ships he commanded which he hoped to someday enlarge enough to create a shipping company sometime in the future. And while he could have gone for the solo route and just taken off on any random ship to Bravoos or Pentos with a few gold dragons, that would have likely been a very short trip for him with
him probably ending dead behind some bar somewhere in Essos considering how dangerous this world is.

So he had decided to go for the safer and more complex route to achieve his dream of travelling the world which would not only provide him with a lot of money it would also help him with his first goal as anyone with even a bit of knowledge about history could tell you that whoever had bigger and better fleet would prevail in most wars and situations.

And finally the last but definitely not the least one, was to somehow survive the White Walkers and their hordes of walking dead. And this goal was the one that had left him stumped for a long time as he had had no idea how to even go about countering a magical zombie. And the only thing he could think about for a long time was to just buy a lot of obsidian from Dragonstone and to create a shit ton of spearheads and arrowheads from them.

So while he knew he would somehow have to remove and reduce the number of bodies available to the Walkers beyond the wall, he had no idea how. As one thing he was sure about was that the moment any of the wildling leaders even took a glimpse of him they would kill him first before they would ask any questions.

The moment Jon had realised who he had inadvertently stumbled upon, a bolt of lightning went through his brain and almost immediately he was bombarded by a lot of ideas on how to work through his third goal, all of which had the teen girl, sister of Mance Rayder's wife, as the middleman. He had almost immediately decided that he would have to somehow bind her to his cause and make her help him.

So Jon had somehow managed to persuade Val that if she somehow managed to defeat him or Dacey in a single combat in the yard, he would bring her over the wall and deliver her safely to her sister. And considering that she knew that she likely wouldn't survive the journey to the wall and over it alone she didn't have much of a choice but of course, she had him take an oath in front of the old gods before she believed him.

"Y'know..." A voice interrupted Jon as he was lost in his thoughts, "They won't be the last ones to ask, Boy. And you can't intimidate all of them with extra training,"

Jon turned to Maege who came to stand beside him and said with a smirk, "We'll see about that,"

Maege just rolled her eyes at his cheekiness and asked nonchalantly, "So... did you really take a liking to her because if you did then I need to tell you that you're still a bit young for things like these—"

"Seriously... Even you!!" Jon interrupted with a scoff.

"I am just asking, Boy," Maege said with a raised eyebrow not at all bothered by his frustration.

"Maybe... I just took pity on her and decided that she didn't to die after all," Jon said with a shrug as he couldn't exactly tell her that he wanted her to be a go-to between the people on the other side of the Wall and that if it went according to his plans then there would be a lot more wildlings to deal with than just this one.

"As if..." The Mother-Bear scoffed his excuse away with a scoff and said, "And I wouldn't really care about if Lord Stark hadn't left you in my care otherwise how would I explain to my liege that he somehow became a grandfather suddenly at that young age—"

"W-What?" Jon spluttered with a red face at the insinuation. While he was somewhat older mentally his body was at that age where it would even blush at the slightest mention of birds and bees.

"SO..." Maege raised her voice over his sputtering, "I need to make sure that you're not taking the wrong path or something like that," she took up her mace while speaking and walked into the nearby ring and said to him after raising her weapon in a challenge, "Now, show me if you're tuff enough to be a man,"

'Of course, she would decide that with a duel,' Jon thought sarcastically but he went to pick up a practice sword smilingly as the one thing he was confident about was his battle prowess so he came in front of her and answered her, "With Pleasure!"

....

After a gruelling training session in the yard, Jon wearily pushed open the door to his room. Instantly, his fatigued expression transformed into one of delight as his gaze fell upon a magnificent snow eagle perched on his window sill, delicately preening her feathers. With a few quick strides, Jon crossed the room and greeted the majestic bird with a warm smile. "Hey there, girl. Do you have a letter for me?"

The snow eagle nodded, gracefully extending her talons to reveal a tied scroll. Jon deftly untied it and placed a small bowl of water before the bird, who gratefully began drinking. Finally, Jon turned his attention to the letter in his hands.

It was a substantial missive, consisting of multiple pages. The first one bore his father's distinctive handwriting, replying and giving him permission to negotiate any deal in the Reach that he felt would be beneficial to the North. He was particularly forceful in telling him to be careful of Olenna Tyrell. He even urged him not to go in front of her at all if he could help it as he felt that she was too astute and cunning and if she somehow managed to
find out about his parentage then it would be a disaster.

Eddard had revealed Jon's parentage during one of his previous visits to Winterfell when he realised and saw Jon doing things that would leave most of the adults in the North stumped. So when Jon asked him for his Mother's identity nonchalantly one day, Eddard felt secure enough to tell him about it as he judged that Jon knew the danger associated with it and that he wouldn't blurt it out the next person in a fit of rage or excitement to
prove that he wasn't a bastard.

The subsequent letters came from Robb, updating Jon on the happenings around Winterfell. Robb mentioned the progress of the factory, his improvement in the training yard, and his lessons with Emily, who was teaching him the art of warging in Jon's absence. Robb concluded the letter with a playful challenge, inviting Jon to visit soon so that he could finally beat him in the yard.

The following letters carried a similar tone, each written by Sansa, Arya, and Emily. Sansa expressed her gratitude in an elegant script for the silk dress Jon had sent her from Lannisport. Arya's note, though shorter and messier, implored Jon to bring her an assortment of sweets, swords, and perhaps even a unicorn— but he couldn't be too sure as the word were too crooked.

Emily's had been about how she was coming along and how she was having trouble keeping Becca and Arya in line and how Old Mark was doing as well as how little Tom had finally managed to warg into a small tomcat.

As the snow eagle soared back toward Winterfell, Jon reread the letters with a contented smile. His reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jon placed the letters safely in his desk drawer and invited the visitor inside.

"Come in."

Tara the maid from Reach entered the room, gracefully bowing before meeting Jon's gaze and presenting him with another letter. "I finished writing the letter, Jon, just as you asked."

"Ah... Thank you for that," Jon replied, accepting the letter. He could see that it was addressed to the Tyrells in Highgarden, located in the Reach.

They would be leaving for the trip to Reach in a few days so Jon had asked her to write a letter to Lady Alerie or Olenna or whoever was in charge of her so that she could explain the circumstances in which he had found them so they wouldn't be too worried or surprised when he showed up on their shore with the two people who had probably been missing for a while now.

Tara lingered for a moment, her curiosity getting the better of her. Observing Jon placing the letter on his desk, she hesitated before inquiring, "But Jon... How do you plan to send that letter? I wasn't aware that anyone on this side of the North had a raven from the Reach available on hand,"

Jon's lips curled into a mysterious smile as he responded, "Oh, don't worry about that. I have my ways."

Tara left the room at that with one more puzzle in her mind about the Bastard of Winterfell who was like an onion, with too many layers and secrets.

...

A few days passed, and Jon found himself seated on his bed, his luggage neatly packed beside him. The preparations for their journey were underway, and their ships for the trip were being loaded at that very moment, and Jon was supposed to be there to supervise it but he had left the work midway to hurry back to his room.

Once safely inside, he sat on the edge of his bed and closed his eyes to warg inside Frost with the full focus of his mind for the first time in a while because he needed to do something special this time.

When Jon finally opened his eyes again, he was greeted by a picturesque view of clear blue skies, lush greenery, fertile crop fields, and meandering rivers—the stunning landscape of the Reach. Frost soared above the clouds, following the path of the Mander River. It didn't take long for the magnificent and captivating Highgarden to come into view.

Perched on a broad, verdant hill overlooking the River Mander, Highgarden boasted three concentric rings of white stone walls. The crenellated curtain walls increased in height as one ventured further inward. Nestled between the outer and middle walls was the renowned briar labyrinth, which served as entertainment for House Tyrell in this age but was probably made by the House Gardeners to slow down invaders.

Jon didn't immediately fly into the castle with his message as Frost's size and uniqueness would probably give some poor maid or Maester a heart attack, instead, he wandered through the surrounding trees until he discovered a suitable raven perched among the branches.

Silently and skillfully, Jon guided Frost to land on the crown of the tree without disturbing a single leaf. After they were close enough Jon focused with all his might and tried the relatively new skill that he had figured out a few months ago and only practised a few times.

He sent a weak mental wave using Frost as the tower towards the Raven, it took him a few tries but eventually, he managed to find the small consciousness of the Raven. The Raven in question was immediately startled by the intrusion and squawked and flitted about on the branch with its gaze darting anxiously. Fortunately, Jon swiftly used his mental influence to calm the raven, sending reassuring thoughts that settled the bird within seconds.

'Oh... It worked,' Jon thought with relief when his new skill which he called 3G warging worked as he didn't have that much confidence in it.

With newfound confidence, he had Frost glide over to the branch where the raven perched. Placing the letter carefully in the raven's claws, Jon then took the raven for a brief trial flight. After a few initial hiccups, the bird
obediently followed Jon's instructions, soaring smoothly through the air. With the letter secure, Jon had the new messenger immediately fly towards the castle's rookery.

At that moment, Jon found himself engaged in a delicate form of multitasking. His mind was divided into three unequal parts: the largest portion remained within his physical body, dormant; the second largest resided within Frost's mind, coexisting with the majestic creature; and the faintest connection lingered within the raven. The strain on Jon's mind was immense, making it impossible to sustain for an extended period.

Warging into an unfamiliar raven felt distinctly different from his experiences with Frost, Pegasus, or Tiger. When he connected with those familiar companions, it felt as though their minds had developed a comfortable space to accommodate him over the years. It was akin to slipping into a cosy pair of shoes. However, with this raven, it felt as though he was attempting to squeeze his foot into the shoe of a three-year-old—only managing to fit in a single toe and having to awkwardly walk with that. Despite the limitations, he could still issue simple commands, such as "fly left," "fly right," "land," or "grab that." Fortunately, for the task at hand, these instructions proved
sufficient.

Within a short time, the raven arrived at the castle's rookery—a significantly larger one compared to Winterfell's, but then again it was probably because the Southerners were a lot more talkative and gossipy than the Northerners.

Inside, Jon spotted a lone figure, dressed in the attire of an acolyte, diligently copying a book.

Directing the raven toward the acolyte's desk, Jon had the bird promptly drop the letter in front of him. Startled by the sudden appearance of the raven, the acolyte exclaimed, "Wah... Where did you come from— Wait! Don't run away!"

The acolyte made a swift motion, attempting to capture the raven, but the bird effortlessly evaded his grasp, flying toward the window after successfully delivering the letter. Perplexed, the acolyte muttered, "What a stupid raven," before refocusing his attention on the letter. Recognizing the sender's name as the missing maid atop the parchment, he immediately dashed out of the room, shouting, "Maester!"