"We all have to grow up, get out from under our parents' wings and fly free in the sky. It will be a painful, lonely and maturing journey, but in the end you will look back and thank your parents for allowing you to fly despite the worries that every mother and father will feel when they see their child go." Aenar Targaryen, seeing Eddard Stark's eyes full of worry.
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293 A.D. - Tenth Year of the Reign of King Robert I Baratheon of House Baratheon.
North - Winterfell, Ancestral Home of House Stark.
Clang!!! Clang!!! Clang!!! Clang!!!
The sound of clashing swords echoed in the training grounds of Winterfell Castle. In the center of the arena, two teenagers were fighting with real swords. Both exchanged blows with force and speed.
Sparks exploded with each collision of the blunt blades of the swords. Blow after blow, collision after collision.
Robb felt his arms heavy and aching as his blue eyes were fixed on his half-brother's face. He hated fighting Jon, it was as if his brother was anticipating his every move. And it was so incredibly frustrating that he didn't like fighting Jon.
Suddenly, Robb felt the sword loosen in his hand with the collision of the swords and before he could react, a cold object was pressed against his throat.
"I surrender." Robb let out a sigh and gave up without a second thought. Honestly, in the first fight between him and Jon, Robb had felt envious and jealous of Jon's abilities, but his father's words made that feeling disappear completely.
Everyone has strengths and weaknesses.
As his father had said, Jon, although extremely talented with the art of the sword, was incredibly bad at training the Jousting, to the point of never winning against him even once. This made his confidence soar to heights never seen before.
"When it's Jousting, I'm going to make you eat mud." Robb said, looking at the ten-year-old.
"You can only beat me in the Justa, Robb." Jon replied with a sarcastic tone, making Robb laugh.
"Still, I can beat you." The red-haired boy retorted with a confident face.
They both looked at each other and smiled, finding the moment funny. Suddenly, the boys heard footsteps approaching and when they turned to see who was coming, they saw a young man of fifteen wearing brown clothes with a coat of arms of a Golden Kraken embroidered on his chest.
"Theon." Robb greeted the Heir to the Iron Islands in a friendly manner. Although he didn't particularly like the young man for his arrogant and lustful attitude.
"You're fighting the Bastard again." Theon said, looking at Jon with a condescending look and a sarcastic smile on his lips.
Robb frowned briefly when he heard the insulting words of his father's pupil, but relaxed them in the next second.
In his father's words, you should never show your emotions in front of people, they might use them against you. That's exactly what he was doing at the moment and Jon didn't need anyone to defend him.
As Robb expected, Jon spoke in the most sarcastic voice he could muster at the moment.
"Better to be a bastard than the son of a traitor and rapist, you filthy squid." His voice made the Heir of Pyke's face livid with rage.
"How dare you insult my noble house, bastard." Theon practically growled with fury and as he drew his sword, he felt a heavy blow on his legs, knocking him off balance and onto the ground with a thud.
He opened his eyes, which had been closed in the fall and when he looked up, he saw a pair of purple eyes staring coldly at him, he could feel the cold of the blade touching his throat.
"Watch your words, Theon Greyjoy. I don't like being humiliated, least of all by the son of a man like your father, Balon Greyjoy." Jon spoke, looking at the Heir to the Iron Islands with a cold, penetrating gaze. To show that he meant business, he pressed the blunt blade hard into the fifteen-year-old's neck.
Jon leaned down and looked directly into the young man's eyes, continuing to speak.
"Remember that you may think you're Eddard Stark's ward, but you're a hostage so that your traitorous father doesn't betray the Crown yet again. And thank your rapist god the King put you under Eddard Stark's tutelage, because any other lord would have killed you in a mysterious accident."
Anger, fear and resentment could be seen in the eyes of the Heir of Pyke, but he lowered his head and dared not look again at the Bastard who had humiliated him.
Seeing the look on his face, Jon remained indifferent and stepped back, taking the blade from his neck.
"You could be kinder, he probably hates you right now." Robb, standing next to Jon, commented in a calm tone. "It's not wise to have the future heir to the Iron Islands as an enemy, especially given his status."
Jon's lips lifted in a particularly handsome smile. "If he has the courage, he can come and meet me on the battlefield, I'll behead his head and give it to Balon, so he can complete his collection of dead sons."
"Sometimes you're very sadistic, brother." Robb rolled his eyes at his half-brother's sadistic comments.
"Sometimes you're too kind and compassionate, Robb. The Lords of the North aren't kind and I'm not compassionate." Jon returned his words with a smile, although his gaze showed a playful expression.
Robb let out a groan of frustration at hearing such words. He knew more than anyone that Jon's words were the purest truth. The Northern Lords didn't care about politeness or kindness, only force could make those extremely stubborn men bend the knee.
The Heir of Winterfell sensed that he would have many more headaches in the future.
As if remembering something, Robb turned to look at Jon and spoke with a tired tone from his training. "Our father asked you to go to his Solar when the training was over. I'm going to take a bath and rest for a while."
"Rest well, after all, you were beaten like a helpless woman." Just as Robb was about to enter the castle, he heard Jon's amused voice behind him.
Robb's face turned grim in an instant as he quickened his steps, quickly disappearing from his half-brother's sight.
Ignoring Theon getting up from the floor, Jon walked towards the castle after putting away both swords used for training, entering the eight millennia old stone castle.
As he walked through the halls of Winterfell, Jon couldn't help but recall the events of those four years.
First there were the births of Eddard Stark's children, the man was very fertile as Catelyn congratulated him with five children and the sixth in the line was on the way.
(Note: I'll make Rickon Stark older than in the canon, as I want all six children of House Stark).
In the Year 289 after Aegon's conquest, Arya Stark, the second lady of House Stark, was born.
In the Year 290 after the conquest, Bran Stark was born, the second lord of House Stark.
In the Year 292 after the conquest, the sixth son of House Stark, Rickon Stark, was born.
Jon loved his uncle's children, Arya and Bran were particularly sweet children who he enjoyed playing with and helping to look after, although the Redfish hadn't liked the situation at all, but with Eddard's help, she stayed silent despite her hatred for him growing every year.
Another thing he heard was his reforms taking place across the sea, on the Continent of Essos. From the information he had earned from Melina, the Red Priestess who had stayed in Winter Town, he discovered that everything was going smoother than he had planned.
The Bible he had written had practically worked miracles when it came to indoctrination and faith, and the Red Church's numbers had practically doubled during those four years! This was no small number if you think that the Red Church was the predominant religion in Essos.
It was such a large number that Jon felt he had underestimated the importance of the Bible. Another thing that had changed was the Fiery Hand, the Red Time's private army, which had expanded from a thousand men originally, to the current twenty thousand men and was increasing every day.
If Jon hadn't specified to Kinvara that only trained soldiers could be part of the army, that number would have doubled or even tripled in those four years.
Fortunately, the Red Church was the predominant religion in Essos, so money to support such a large war machine wasn't difficult.
According to Melina, there wasn't much internal resistance within the Red Church, the old, stubborn priests who refused to change had been killed and younger, more devout priests had been put in their place. The hierarchy of the Red Church had also changed.
The supreme power of the Red Church was named High Reverend Mother, for short, Reverend Mother and as the name implies, only women could serve as High Reverend Mother.
Kinvara became the first High Reverend Mother and the Supreme Pontiff of Essos.
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