The Protagonist System
376 Stark Relief

I snuck into the kitchens in the morning. I had waited for the workers to show up and start cooking before I could make my presence known. It wasn't until a brown-haired young woman about 14 years old entered the kitchen that I took the chance to speak.

“Good morning, Mikken.” I whispered and her face immediately went red as she turned to look at me.

“J-Jon.” Mikken whispered back. “You showed up.”

I smiled at her. “I did tell Gretchel I needed to thank you properly.”

Mikken's face stayed red as she stepped close and held her hand out to me. I gave her my best smile and bent over her hand as if she was a high class lady, whispered my thanks for feeding me such great food, and I gently kissed the back of her hand. She visibly shivered at the touch and her breathing sped up.

“Why couldn't you have been older?” Mikken asked me in a whisper.

“Because.” I let her hand go and stepped into her personal space and looked up at her face. “It would be entirely unfair to you.”

Mikken opened her mouth to respond and I stood on my tippy toes and kissed her cheek. She gasped and stepped back, a hand on the spot, and her face bright red.

“You will be long taken before I have an appropriate nameday to do more than that.” I whispered, dropped down to plant my feet, and turned around to see a stern woman giving us a glare. “I was just leaving before I caused her to be late, matron of the kitchens.”

The woman gave me another pointed look, gave the same to Mikken, and then nodded. “You're on bread kneading again this morn.”

“Yes'm!” Mikken almost shouted and ran across the room to where they mixed the ingredients to make the dough. It was debatable if it was me or her boss she was getting away from, though.

“You.” She said and pointed at the door. “Get.”

“Yes'm!” I said in a fairly good imitation of Mikken and fled. A couple of the other kitchen workers let out little laughs as I shut the door.

“Damn fool kids.” The matron said with a chuckle.

I had a couple hours before I had to break my fast, so I left the main building and stepped out into the chilly morning air. I took in a deep breath and a particular smell reached my nostrils. I smiled and followed it to where I found one of the larger forges being stoked.

It took time for it to build up enough heat to be of use and the apprentice was sweating as he worked the bellows and the blacksmith shovelled a mix of coal and wood chips inside. I went right inside and gave the blacksmith a wave, then pointed at his apprentice.

“Thank the old gods!” The apprentice said and dropped to the floor and rubbed his arms.

I laughed and took his place and started pumping the thing faster than he did, to get the flames going. I also used a few powers to enhance the forge and the billows, to make it hotter and last longer, with more and purer air being delivered in each pump.

“Good... that's good, Jon... just a bit more.” The blacksmith said nearly twenty minutes later as the entire thing started to glow a good color red. He added a shovelful of larger coal chunks to keep the flames going for a while and stepped back as he closed the hatch.

I let the billows go and walked over to him and handed him a pink fluffy towel as I grinned at him. The man laughed at the thing and used it, just to spike my joke, then he laughed again because it sucked up all of his sweat.

“How much longer can you stick around?” The burly man asked and gave me the towel back.

I made it a point to look out at the sun. “About an hour, then I have to get changed to break my fast.”

The man nodded. “We're doing recovery work today, so you're on carry duty with my apprentice. The solders at the various gates around the keep have old armor pieces and weapons to be reforged and replaced.”

By the look on the apprentice's face, he was resigned to do a lot of running around today.

“Well, I need the exercise, so why don't you bring an old cart to the middle of town and I'll run to the gates with a couple burlap bags?” I asked and walked over to the stack of them by the door. “Load these into the cart and we'll be done in half the time.”

“Really?” The young man asked and looked at the blacksmith with hope on his face.

The blacksmith huffed. “You're meeting him halfway and you have to pull the cart back by yourself.”

“YEAH!” The apprentice yelled and took off running to grab the cart.

“He's pretty fast, so you need to get going.” The blacksmith said to me. “Do the south gate first. They have the most encounters and need theirs replaced first.”

“Yessir.” I said and tied two bags together and hung them over my shoulders.

The man gave me a searching look, then nodded. I took off running in the other direction and I didn't have to worry about too many people being out this early. Some were up, because they had to get things done before breakfast, and I avoided them easily. I waved and nodded to the ones I passed. One woman asked where the fire was and I joked and said on my butt, which made her laugh and then she told me off for being crass.

I laughed and ran on and made it to the south gate a few minutes later. The guards greeted me, since I usually passed by all the gates at least once a week. As a kid, there was not a lot for me to do. I did a lot of walking, some horse riding, and did a lot of observing as the soldiers trained.

“I'm here...” *huff* *huff* “...to pick up the things...” *huff* “...for the master blacksmith.” I said as I pretended to be a little winded.

While I recovered from my run, they filled the two burlap sacks with damaged equipment and weapons. Some had a little rust on them, too. When they were done, I slung the tied bags over my shoulders, gave them a wave, and took off running back towards the center of town. I didn't miss the looks of respect I received, either. If there was one thing a soldier respected, it was having a good hustle and not wasting time.

I dropped the two bags into the cart and the apprentice marked them with the symbol for the south gate. I slapped his shoulder in thanks, grabbed two more bags and tied them together, then ran for the next gate. Needless to say, pretty much everyone that was up early, saw me running by with either an empty bag or a full one.

*

Eddard 'Ned' Stark sat at his place in the Great Hall to enjoy breaking his fast with his family. He was always early in the mornings, even after having a few drinks with his men the night before. The paperwork could wait until he fully recovered and his head wasn't softly pounding with a much too familiar ache.

He kept his face blank, not only to hide his grimace of pain, it was to hide his surprise about what he had heard about his adopted son, John Snow. He didn't mean what he heard from his lady wife, either. She had been biased, even since she had met the boy as a baby, and her words and actions clearly showed her displeasure about having him in her home.

It was something he had tried on many occasions to curtail, only to meed Catelyn's stubbornness and have nothing change. Where the boy slept, where he ate, who he could associate with... all of it was argued about and he always lost.

Why? Because Ned knew that Jon wasn't really his son. Standing up for his rights, that technically didn't exist, was a problem he just could not solve. Both politically and emotionally, Jon was in a grey area and nothing could be done to change it, unless he wanted the boy murdered by the current king and any number of other people that hated the previous ruling family, the Targaryens.

That wasn't the surprising news, however. It was hearing about his visit to the stables, then to a farmstead, and then this very morning with the blacksmith and helping retrieve the many sacks of armor and weapons from the soldiers manning the gates in the keep's tall thick walls that protected Winterfell.

What was the boy doing? Ned asked himself just as the boy himself entered through the main doors. Again, Jon was wearing clothing that looked only passingly like what Catelyn had the seamstresses make for the boy. He knew it was insulting for Jon to be treated like an unwanted pair of boots with a hole in the bottom, since they had to be worn and there was no way to fix them or replace them.

Instead of asking about any of that, or what Jon was doing as he interacted with the smallfolk, Ned only greeted him as he usually did and the boy sat silently and waited with him for the rest of the family. He did notice Jon's hair was fluffier than usual, as if it had just been washed. But, he didn't have time to wash, since he only just finished his job with the blacksmith's apprentice.

Ned held in his laugh as soon as his daughter Arya entered the room and again tried to rush over to Jon, only for her mother to waylay her and keep her on task. In all honesty, he would have preferred she allowed the young girl to indulge herself and have fun, just like all children should. However, he could not question how his wife raised their children, since that would be a grave insult.

He greeted his wife and daughters, then his son when Robb walked in ahead of the Karstarks. He saw Arya wave at Jon, whom stuck his tongue out at her, making the girl clamp her tiny hands over her mouth to stifle her cute little giggle. Luckily, Catelyn had missed the cause of the laugh and couldn't complain about it.

Ned greeted the old man and then his sons and his commanders, and they all sat to break their fast. To his hidden surprise, one of the serving girls brought out an oddly-shaped loaf of bread to give to Jon. He saw it and gave the girl raised eyebrows, then he chuckled and whispered something. The girl gasped and blushed, then walked quickly back into the kitchens.

As if he knew what Ned was wondering about, Jon held up the bun to show the indent of a person's distorted face had been pressed into the crust. Ned barely stopped his own laugh at seeing it, then nodded his thanks for sharing it with him.

After the meal, Ned went back to his office and called for one of the many servants in the keep. He ordered the man to be discreet and to follow Jon when he could, and he was to retreat if Jon saw him and thought he was being watched. The man agreed and left without asking how long he would have to follow the boy for.

Until I tell you to stop. Ned thought as he sat down to continue working. A keep didn't run itself, not with how many people were inside and how much management was necessary. His thoughts went to the blacksmith reporting to him and Ned regretted that he couldn't have an apprentice until Robb was old enough and had enough learning to help.

The thought of Jon suddenly popped up in his head and Ned again regretted that he couldn't take the boy under his tutelage and teach him properly and not having to lower Jon's status even further by taking lessons with a girl half his age. Arya adored him, though.

If he tried to change it, Ned would have a mini-rebellion on his hands. Catelyn and Sansa on one side and Arya on the other, as they both fought to keep Jon right where he was, only for much different reasons. It just wasn't worth the hassle or the effort, because in the end, it didn't really matter.

As long as he had to protect the boy from his heritage, he couldn't help him in any other way. It was safer for everyone for Jon to stay as a bastard, and a bastard he would stay.

*

Maester Luwin always enjoyed his lessons with little Arya, specifically because her half-brother Jon always kept her entertained and on track. He made it fun for the little girl and Arya always remembered anything the young boy told her, as if he had spoken the gospel of the gods.

He smiled when the door of his assigned rooms opened and Jon walked inside with little Arya hanging on his back like a barnacle on a ship. They were never late and never disrespected him, which he fully appreciated, especially because they were so young.

“Welcome, welcome. Please sit.” Luwin said and waved at the large chair he usually sat in himself. Why did he relegate himself to the smaller chair? Because Jon always sat in the back of the large chair and sat Arya on his lap and placed any reading or work on her lap, so they both shared in the experience.

In all of the old man's experiences over the years, it was a novel way to lead the younger generation into admiring both their teachers and what they were learning. Jon's approach kept Arya happy during the lessons, even with the boring things she needed to be taught.

“We'll start off with a little history today.” Luwin said and Arya pouted. He smiled at her, because he had a special treat this time and didn't only had dry facts to share. “It's about the last war of the dragons and how they all died out.”

Arya's eyes lit up when the Maester pulled out an old scroll he had meticulously copied from the archives of the citadel. He opened it up and showed off a very detailed drawing of one of the largest dragons to exist, Vhagar.

“Ooooo!” Arya cooed and made grabbing motions with her hands.

Jon caught her hands with a chuckle. “You know he can't do that, Arya. The scrolls are too important and expensive to let you handle them.”

Maester Luwin gave the boy a smile as he walked over to him and handed him the scroll. “Then you can hold it for her and let her admire it while I talk.”

Jon looked surprised and then smiled right back. “Thank you, Maester Luwin.”

Luwin nodded and walked back over to the smaller chair and sat down. “The various Targaryen family members had been at war for quite some time...”

Arya listened and also let her tiny fingers trace the large wings of the dragon's drawing. She didn't do it roughly, since Jon said it was important. She also knew she would be asked about the talk later and needed to remember the names at least.

“The dragon's name is Vhagar.” Jon whispered in her ear when Maester Kiwun paused to take a drink of water and to give his voice a short rest. The young man pointed to the squiggly writing and ran his finger under one part. “V,h,a,g,a,r.”

Neither Jon nor Arya say Luwin stiffen at hearing him spell out the name.

“She was one of the biggest dragons of them all, fought in countless battles, until she had her throat torn out in her last battle and she fell into God's Eye Lake and drowned.” Jon said as his finger moved along the writing under the drawing.

“Ooooo.” Arya cooed and her little finger followed Jon's and she repeated the dragon's name and then what he said about how the dragon died. She couldn't read it, though. She was just copying what he was doing.

Maester Luwin recovered from his shock of seeing the boy actually reading High Valyrian and continued the lesson as if he hadn't just had the shock of his life. The boy didn't even realize he was reading a language that took most Maesters years of studying to only learn the alphabet.

The old man managed to keep his composure for the rest of the morning lesson until it was midday, then he waited for the children to leave before he stumbled across the room and almost collapsed against his desk. He put the scroll next to the others he had snuck into the lesson to test the boy, only for Jon to not notice they were not written in the common tongue and were scrolls the Maester was translating for the citadel's archives.

Now Luwin had a huge problem. Well, two really. One, should he send off a raven to the Order of Maesters to let them know about a boy that could read ancient texts as if they were written in common. Two, should he tell the Lord of Winterfell of the hidden treasure that he inadvertently discovered by accident when he wanted to show off his drawing skills to his favorite students.

The old man sat there for quite some time and felt all of his years weigh upon him as he made the hardest decision of his life. What was worth more to him? His loyalty to the Lord of Winterfell, whom he'd spent decades serving, or his loyalty to the Order of Maesters that made him into the man of learning he was.

In the end, there was no choice to make and he decided to do both things. He wrote out the note to send by raven to the citadel and sent it off before he left his rooms to meet with Lord Stark about it.