Winterfell
Jon's POV
After two days of cosplaying as a magical Count Dracula, I burned the corpses of the Ironborn I had staked.
It was easier than I thought it would be—nothing that a few Incinerate casts couldn't handle. The bodies turned to ash in moments.
Two days after Arya's birth, she's already the cutest thing in the world, constantly glued to her mother.
After her birth, I had Luwin examine both Lady Stark and Arya thoroughly, since it was not only the first birth I had ever overseen but also the first one involving magic.
I'll never forget Luwin's face—apparently, both were perfectly healthy, far healthier than anyone had expected.
Lady Stark was so healed that she didn't even look like she'd just given birth. She walked normally, without any pain whatsoever.
Arya was chubby, with rosy cheeks that I wanted to pinch all day—by far the healthiest baby Luwin had ever seen.
Robb and Sansa adore Arya as much as I do. They try to stay with Lady Stark as often as possible.
When they can't, they prefer to stay near me. Robb even wanted to help me burn the bodies, but both Lady Stark and I opposed it. To spare his feelings, I asked Ser Rodrik to take him to Wintertown to help with the rebuilding efforts.
After the battle, out of the 600 Ironborn who attacked, only 75 survived.
My Storm Atronachs and direwolves handled most of them, and afterward, the people of Wintertown took their own revenge.
The remaining seventy-five are now enjoying the cozy dungeons Winterfell has to offer. I'll keep them locked up for now before sending their sorry asses to the Wall.
They're lucky to be alive—if not for that, I wouldn't have stopped. I think my character's powers and experiences have desensitized me to the value of human life. I'm fairly certain I committed a few war crimes back in Skyrim when I played.
Another thing I've realized: I still haven't felt the need to sleep. It's like I'm running on fifty coffees mixed with Monster and cocaine. I guess being a Dragonborn and an Orc at the same time is the ultimate stimulant.
Still, I seriously miss coffee. I'd probably kill someone for a cup right now.
I've returned to my room. Lady Stark wanted me to move my quarters immediately to the main family wing, but I turned it down—at least for now. I need some time alone, away from everyone's looks of fear and awe.
"I fear they're going to fall to their knees and start chanting Lisan al Gaib," I mutter to myself with a small laugh at the irony—going from the bastard of Winterfell to the Hero of Winterfell.
I take off the small leather armor Ser Rodrik gave me and collapse onto my bed with a groan of relief.
Physically, I'm not tired—but mentally, I feel utterly drained.
"Hargh!" A sharp pain flares in my chest, making me twist in my bed. Before I can react, a red vortex appears on my chest, something emerging from it.
A red-and-black glow rises from my chest, swirling until it starts to solidify. The vortex fades, leaving only the glow to illuminate the room.
The light slowly dims, revealing a floating book before me. Its cover is made of deep black scales that protrude from the edges, a blood-red gem gleaming at its center like a ruby.
With my character memories — and even my fucking own — I recognized it instantly.
"A Black Book!" I said, a shiver of fear running down my spine at what that meant.
'No way in hell I was going to bring Hermaeus Mora into this fucked-up world by summoning a Lovecraftian god with tentacles' I thought, mild panic rising as the floating book just hovered there... ominously.
"AUGH! Motherfucker!" The book suddenly moved much faster than I expected and smacked me on the nose.
"Oh, little—" Before I could strangle the book out of existence, it snapped open in front of me. I jumped back, two Bound Swords already in my hands, ready for horrible fucking tentacles.
But what greeted me was huge writing across the pages:
'Are you retarded?'
"What the fuck? You can talk?!" I demanded in disbelief as I read the writing.
'Of course I can talk. Can you read? Or are you too stupid to read?' the text replied.
"Of course I can read, you stupid book. So if you aren't an open door to the Tentacle bastard, what the hell are you?!" I asked, blades still drawn — trusting a talking book rarely ends well; ask Ginny.
'Ahem! I am The Great! The Magnanimous! The Spectacular ENCANTUS!' the book wrote, a red-black glow radiating from it.
"Never heard of you," I said. The name was vaguely familiar but didn't ring any clear bells.
'...Fuck you, dude' it answered. I don't know why, but I felt like the book took a small prideful hit.
"Okay, okay. I'll take a wild guess — you're another boon from the Wheel, right?" I asked, already expecting the answer.
Yes! The Wheel decided you were worthy enough to have me. Never had so much pride been packed into a single phrase.
"So, what can you do?" I asked with interest — I'd gotten overpowered before and my magic had just been boosted again.
The book zipped toward me at a breakingneck speed and opened to a page marked with the symbol of a stretched hand.
Put your hand here! the script urged.
"No thank you. I'm not putting my hand on a weird magical book." I knew this was a gift from the Wheel of Destiny, but being too trusting bites you in the ass.
Stop being a wuss and bond already! the book snapped. I felt it roll its non-existent eyes.
"Fuck... fine. But if I lose my hand or get absorbed, I'm using you as toilet paper!" I said, took a deep breath, and put my palm on the page.
"Huh!" A gasp escaped my lips as power began to force-feed itself into my body. Every single cell started to sing as power flooded my being. It felt like the first time I gained my powers, only much stronger. Even with my eyes closed I saw a red glow behind my lids.
Knowledge sprouted in my mind. The strain came on, but before it became painful I felt my mind expand while simultaneously fortifying and strengthening itself.
I don't know how long passed, but the glow faded and I fell to my knees, gasping for air. My whole body ached like I'd run a marathon and wrestled a gorilla.
"Holy FUCK!" I breathed, analyzing the new knowledge I'd just received.
I looked at a nearby chair — old, one leg shorter than the others — and raised my right hand toward it.
"Stupefy!" A red bolt shot from my hand, speeding like a bullet, hitting the chair and reducing it to pieces that flew all around the room.
"Huh! I fucking got multiversal magic! Hahahaha!" I laughed in disbelief and joy as knowledge of several worlds of magic flooded my mind — different spells, curses, and more.
'SOO Pretty good, right?! Nothing that the Mighty Encantus can't give' the book wrote, its writing dripping with pride. This time I wasn't going to disagree.
I slowly pushed myself to my feet and stared at it in amazement.
"We're gonna do a lot of cool stuff!" I said, still grinning.
Yes we will... also your dad is gonna die, you might want to stop that, the book added casually.
"WHAT?!"
▁▂▄▅▆▇█_____█▇▆▅▄▂▁
New Spells Learned:
Stupefy (Stupefying Charm) (Harry Potter)— Releases a bolt of red concussive energy. On impact it can render a target unconscious or strike with a powerful concussive force.
End of Chapter
I again end with a disgusting cliffhanger, I feel disgust and rage at myself but I needed to do this, I am so sorry my dear readers but it was stronger than myself!
Hope you all liked this new chapter, have been writing this for a while and finally finished, Things are going to develop very, very fast now, plot is basicly blow to bit right now
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Word Count: 1361