Tyrion I

298 AC

Tyrion had to admit that the North was not what he had expected, he had heard all sorts of tales about it. Some said that it was a desolated frozen wasteland, while others told of a wild beauty that held large cities that had sprung up in the last twenty years. He was inclined to believe latter rumours considering that Winterfell suddenly had quite a big city surrounding it. Nowhere near as large as the five main cities of Westeros, but still big.

The moment they had entered the Neck and seen Moat Cailin, he knew that the North would not be what they thought of it. The massive fortress was completely rebuilt, twenty towers the surrounded the large stone keep. Some of the towers were built on small islands that sat in the bogs, connected to the body of the Moat via long stone bridges, it was a frightening sight if he were honest.

The North was the largest of the Seven Kingdoms and perhaps the most well defended, they could hold off any invasion from the Moat, and if the rumours were true, they know had two port cities, one on each coast. They were protected from both land and sea.

When they exited the Neck, he had been at a loss of words. There were rolling frosted fields that ran for as far as the eyes could see, he was pretty sure he even saw a few herds of hairy cows grazing in the fields. He had never seen anything like the animal before, it was large, almost as big as a bear, and it had large horns protruding from their heads.

He knew that only the North could boast about having a land this wild and free. All of the other kingdoms were too populated, even the Westerlands had too many mountains to be considered this breathtaking.

If he thought that he couldn't be shocked after spending almost two weeks in Winterfell, he was wrong. He had seen the supposed direwolves that Ned Stark's children were said to have tamed, he was impressed that they had pet wolves, but they didn't look all that threatening if he honest with himself.

But then he had seen that white monster walk into the Great Hall. The direwolf companion of Jon Stark, heir to the North. The thing was almost the size of a horse, with completely white fur and claws that looked like the it could rip them to shreds with one slash. The most unnerving thing about the direwolf was its eyes.

When the doors to the hall had been opened he had looked towards it to see who had entered. When he saw the wolf, he could have sworn that it had looked him straight in the eyes with, red gaze piercing his soul. There had been an intelligence in those eyes that a wolf shouldn't have. It astounded him.

Growing up, he had always loved the tales of dragons. He wanted to learn all that he could about them, wanted to learn their history and where they originated from. Which tales were true and which were lies. It had been his passion. Reading in general had been his passion. Other than to boast about pissing off the top of the Wall, he also wanted to see their library. It was said that Castle Black held books that even the Citadel never had.

He had also been lucky enough to be granted access to Winterfell's collection of tomes. Maester Luwin had told him that Jon Stark had come into possession of all the books that once occupied the Nightfort's library. That was how he found himself chasing after the heir to the North.

"Jon Stark!" He called out to the retreating man. When he turned around Tyrion continued. "If you don't mind I'd like a moment of your time?"

"Of course Lord Tyrion, I just need to put Ghost out." Jon replied to him, as the direwolf walked next to him.

Tyrion decided he would follow the two, wanting to get a closer at the animal that the rest of the realm believed extinct. "If you don't mind me asking. How did you tame this direwolf? It seems to obey your every order."

"A direwolf is of the North my lord, they cannot be tamed and any man that believes they can be soon find themselves dead. He might listen to me but in the end he is a wild animal."

As he said this the Stark moved his hand and rested it over the wolf's head, ruffling the fur underneath his hand. When they reached the gate to the Godswood, Jon opened them and allowed Ghost to sprint off into the shadows of the woods.

"Maester Luwin tells me that you've come into possession of books from the Nightfort. Is this true?" He asked.

"It is. I asked Lord Commander Mormont if he was willing to part with the tomes, and he agreed that for a certain fee, he would be willing to part with them. They now reside in my personal library."

"I was wondering if perhaps you would allow me the chance to have a look through some of them? I've heard there are books in those collections that even the Citadel do now possess."

"You like to read Tyrion Lannister?"

"Look at me, and tell me what you see." He told the man. "I'm a dwarf, I can't fight in tourneys or lead men on the battle field. But I can read and I can learn. I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses. My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer, and I have my mind… and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge. So yes Jon Stark, I like to read, very much so." He said.

"You're a strange man Tyrion Lannister." Jon said looking him in the eyes. "I've been all around the known world and I have met very few men willing to admit their own weakness."

"Yes well, I learnt a long time ago that its better to admit your weakness and move past it, then to allow others to use it against you."

"I like you Lannister. Come, follow me to the library."

With that he followed Jon as he took him towards the squat drum tower decorated with stone gargoyles. He was led into the building taken up to the third floor. Entering one of the doors he was greeted with the sight of a large room filled with ancient looking tomes and scrolls.

"I don't think I need to tell you this, but please be careful with the older material. These are the only copies in the world, if they rip or tear, there are no replacements."

"Don't worry Stark, I'll treat them as if they were my own children." He replied with a smirk.

The man returned the smirk and started making his way out of the room. Before he closed the door, he looked back at Tyrion. "If you decided to spend the night, there are chambers next to this room. Also if you'd like, you'll find a few bottles of wine or ale on the first floor, through the unlocked door."

"Thank you Jon." He called out to the retreating figure. Simply getting a wave from the man in reply.

Looking around the room, he realised that he had absolutely no idea where to start. Eventually deciding he would pick a random book and start from there, he made his way over to one of the older looking tomes and picked it up.

'Origins of the Wall' by the Rodrik Frost. Seemed like a good start, so with that he sat himself at one of the tables and opened the book.

Except when he slept, he had spent almost three days in that library. On the second day, a boy by the name of Samwell Tarly had joined him. He said that Jon had sent him to start making copies of the oldest scrolls and tomes in the library, which he was all to happy to do.

The two had started to get to know each other, and Tyrion had to say that the Tarly boy was quite weak minded and craven. He had tried taking the piss out of the boy, as he did, but he had not reacted to Tyrion at all, only taking the playful jabs, never firing back.

When he had asked how the heir to House Tarly had ended up in Winterfell, the boy told him his story, and he had to admit that he felt a sort of kinship with him. Both of their father's refused to accept them as their heirs and would of thought nothing of it if they died. Although at least his father never openly threatened to kill him.

He had spent so much time in the library that he hadn't even visited the Wintertown brothel in almost a week and a half.

Now though he stood next to his brother as they prepared to watch a fight between Jon Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy. Tyrion had seen the old knight fight, he could still beat Jaime in his old age, and Jaime was one of the best swords in Westeros. He didn't know how well the Stark heir fought, but he was quite certain that he wouldn't be able to keep up with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

They had decided to simply hold the fight in the training yard of Winterfell, so as not to make a scene about it, although in he's opinion, judging by the number of people standing around them, that plan failed.

All the current Kingsguard that had travelled with them were standing around, Cersei and the kids were seated on small seats next to the temporary throne that had been erected for Robert. To his left sat Ned Stark with his family and a few of the men that he had seen hanging around with Robb Stark, the Greyjoy boy and the other one he did not know.

The two fighters were both suited in armour, though Jon had decided to forgo a helmet while Ser Barristan was decked out in his Kingsguard armour. They had both chosen to fight with a shield and sword. While Jon Stark used the same shield as the guards he had seen patrolling the castle grounds, the old knight was armoured with his white shield.

"Ser Barristan, since this is a friendly spar, first blood wins?" The Stark heir called out to his opponent. When he received a nod of consent, both parties made to unsheathe their blades. The moment that Jon's sword slipped from the its cover he heard the crowd gasp in surprise.

He could not believe what he was seeing. House Stark had another Valyrian Steel blade. He knew that they were in possession of Ice, their ancestral greatsword, but he had no idea that they held a longsword as well. The hilt of the sword was made up of iron cross guards in the shape of wolf heads and a white pommel in the shape of a direwolf with purple garnets as eyes.

The blade itself was the length of a standard longsword, and contained the characteristic veins of Valyrian Steel. But in this blade the veins were an ice blue that almost made the blade looked as though it were glowing when the light hit it.

He could hear his insufferable nephew pestering his mother about getting him the blade. House Baratheon, nor House Lannister could boast owning an ancestral Valyrian Steel sword, and although the King had just won a dagger from Baelish, it was not it in the same league as a sword.

Once both fighters were in position, Ser Rodrik Cassel stepped forward. He would be presiding of the duel, ready to step in if either fighter went to far. "Begin!" He's voice rang over the yard.

At once both swordsmen dashed towards each other, blades meeting in the middle, a hissing noise washing over the area as the metals fought for dominance. Jon allowed his sword to be pushed back and brought his shield up, smashing it against Ser Barristan's own. They separated, and started circling one another like predators looking for the kill. The fight hadn't been going on for long, but Tyrion could already feel the atmosphere that these two were creating. Their mere presences were fighting against each other, each pushing for dominance over the other.

Again they struck, swords ringing against each other's shield. For almost thirty minutes this continued. The two would go at each other and end up retreating. At some point Jon had discarded his shield, and was now fighting with virtually no protection save his armour.

It was mesmerising watching the two fight. Stark was flowing in and out of his opponent's reach, landing more and more hits on the old man's armour, almost as though he were dancing. He could hear the small Stark children cheering for their brother, they were standing up, hands in the air as they watched him go toe to toe with a living legend.

Tyrion had come to watch this match with the idea that Jon Stark would not stand a chance against Barristan the Bold, but here he was, half an hour into the match, weaving in and out of his opponent's attacks, slowly getting more and more hits in.

What happened next shocked him and everybody around him, even the young man's family by the looks of it. Jon switched sword hands and started attacking with a ferocity that was previously absent, he was increasing in speed and power like a man possessed, not giving Ser Barristan a chance to regain his footing. Gripping his sword with two hands, he brought it down in a horizontal slash, aiming to knock his opponent back into a stagger and finish the match.

When Ser Barristan brought his sword up in an attempt at softening the blow, the swords met with a clang, and the next thing he knew half of the Kingsguard's sword was buried in the ground next to him. The sword had been shattered and broken in half, leaving Ser Barristan with a blade just larger than a dagger.

But that was all he needed, while Jon was looking in shock at what he had done, the old knight used the opportunity to lunge out and slash at the Stark heir. Trying to dodge the incoming blade, Jon ducked and made to back up but what ended up happing was him getting slashed in the face with Ser Barristan's blade.

The moment the blade made contact with his face, the crowd let out a gasp of shock. The future Warden of the North had been maimed badly. Even Ser Barristan had dropped his blade in shock at what had happened. Around him he could hear various voices shouting out Jon's name in worry. When the Stark heir lifted he's head, Tyrion saw that the blade had just missed the eye, the cut had begun above the brow, and continued down to his cheek bone. It wasn't too deep or thick from what he could see, but it would definitely scar over.

He saw Jon's wife Wynafryd with their daughter rush over calling out to her husband, pleading for him to be okay. Behind her came the Stark children and the small group that hung around with them.

Maester Luwin was knelt down infront of Jon, dabbing at the wound, trying to clean away the blood, when Ser Barristan went over.

"My lord, forgive me. I never intended to…"

Before he could finish, Jon interrupted the old knight with a deep laugh that shocked all who stood by. "Nonsense! Here I was thinking I could take on the legendary Ser Barristan the Bold. I will carry this scar with pride! A reminder of this moment, for the rest of my life."

"Thank you my lord." Ser Barristan responded humbly. "I have to say, you remind me much of my old comrade. It seems you've inherited his way with a sword and his ferocity."

"I don't remember much of my uncle, but what he taught me will never be forgotten. I remember him training me in the training yard outside the White Sword Tower. Watching him spar with Ser Oswell, was one of the most memorable fights I have seen." Jon said, face lost in memories. "I just hope I can make him proud."

"Knowing Arthur, he would be extremely proud of you, of how far you've progressed."

They were about to break apart and all head off to do their own business, when he saw his insufferable nephew making his way over to the Stark heir, the hound not far behind. Looking around the courtyard he noticed most of the spectators, including Lord Stark and the King after they had a quick word with Jon, had dispersed. Hoping to stop his idiotic prince from doing anything stupid, he made his way over to the small group surrounding Jon. On his way, he swore he could hear a pounding noise coming from the direction of the Godswood but decided to ignore it in favour of dealing with Joffrey.

"You fought well Jon Stark, but I assure you, against me you would have found more difficulty." Joffrey's arrogant voice rang out as he approached the group. Tyrion almost burst into laughter at that statement. His nephew was about as good with a sword as he was, and he didn't fancy himself winning against the average fighter.

"I'm sure my prince." Jon replied with a poorly concealed smirk. "I hope to never have to face you in battle, for I would surely lose."

Joffrey didn't seem to notice that he was being mocked because he puffed his chest and opened his mouth to speak. "Yes…yes. Good to see you acknowledge your betters. That sword of yours. I want it. I would greatly appreciate if it was given to me a show of fealty to your next king."

He almost face palmed at that. His nephew seemed to think that because he was crown prince, he was entitled to anything and everything he set his eyes upon. He's mother and father had failed to teach the boy that even a king can't have everything he wants.

"I'm afraid that I have to refuse you Prince Joffrey. This sword is very rare and belongs to House Stark." Jon's face hardened as he said this. All the while the younger Starks and Wynafryd grew increasingly worried.

Tyrion could see it on their faces. The look of worry as Jon denied the prince grew as the conversation went on. Again he heard the pounding sound close to the side gate of the Godswood, but once again thought nothing of it.

"Joffrey." He called out to his nephew. "The sword belongs to Jon and House Stark. You cannot demand them to give it to you."

"Quiet Imp!" Joffrey responded with a sneer. "One day I will be king, and to disobey your king is treason."

"Yes it is." Jon said, voice evidently tired. "But you are not yet king. Has your father ever told you about the last time a prince took something he wasn't supposed to?"

Even he didn't expect the Stark heir to leave that question hanging in the air like that, and judging by everybody else's expressions, neither did they. It seemed Joffrey actually understood the he was being threatened, which he didn't appreciate because he turned to Sandor Clegane, face red with anger.

"Dog! Stark has just threatened me! Show him what happens when you cross those of royal blood."

Sandor grunted and moved to unsheathe his sword. Tyrion was getting worried now, would the hound really enforce his masters commands with children and babies around. He knew the man was savage, but to do this… he thought Sandor was better than his brother, but it would appear not.

Seeing Wynafryd and the younger children slowly backing away, while the men made to draw their own swords. Before he could step forward to try and stop what was about to happen, a loud bang of snapping wood filled the air. Before his eyes a white blur raced past and crashed into Clegane, slamming him to the ground. Behind the large white blur followed five smaller bodies, all racing towards the Starks and their group, placing themselves between the two parties.

It was the direwolves, Ghost had managed to brake down the small wooden gate and was currently snapping his jaws at the downed man. Looking to his nephew, he saw two of the direwolves advancing on the boy, snarling at him.

"Stop! Away you foul beasts!" Jeffery cowered, backing up until his back was against the walls of the armoury.

"Greywind! Nymeria! Stop!" Robb Stark's voice rung out, causing the two direwolves to back away from Joffrey, leaving the boy cowering against the wall. As soon as the wolves were far enough away, the prince shot out of clearing, most probably on his way to nag to Cersei. Tyrion knew that nothing good would come of this. He's sister would make sure that her favourite child got what he wanted, even if it meant making enemies with one of the strongest houses in the seven Kingdoms.

"Ghost! To me." Jon called out as he's direwolf released the large Clegane man, and bounded over to his master. "Ser Sandor, forgive me, Ghost gets protective when there is a threat."

"I'm not a fucking knight…" Sandor grumbled, lifting himself up and walking away.

"Forgive my nephew Jon, he is young and brash." Tyrion spoke up. "But you should be careful with your words, one day they could land you in a lot of trouble."

Jon gave a tired nod at his words, understanding what he did wasn't exactly the smartest of ideas. With that over, Jon, his wife and daughter and Tyrion all made their way to the First Keep.

They would be leaving for King's Landing soon, while he travelled to the Wall, so he wanted to spend as much time reading the books Jon had graciously given him access to before he left Winterfell.

The rest of the time he spent at Winterfell had was fairly uneventful. Majority of his time was spent in the library or at the brothel. He would be travelling for quite a long time, so he had decided to quench his 'thirst' as much as possible before he set off. After all, he never knew when he might see another woman, for all he knew it might have been his last night on this earth.

Ned Stark would be leaving with the king and his court to King's Landing. It had been announced that their houses would join through young Brandon Stark and Mrycella. Once the two were of age they would be married and granted land from which they would rule from. According to rumours, Robert had originally wanted to join the two houses through Joffrey and Sansa, but the Stark girl was already betrothed, and the youngest daughter wouldn't be forced to marry anyone she didn't want.

So Lord Stark had proposed a match between his second youngest son, and Robert and Cersei's only daughter. Of course the king had said yes to his old friend. The marriage would link together some of the most powerful houses in Westeros.

He found himself atop a horse next to Benjen Stark looking behind as his family went one way and he the other, the grey direwolf banner fluttering in the wind from the tall towers of on of the oldest castles in the realm.

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Hey there guys, we are coming up to the one year anniversary of this story and I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported me in my endeavour to write this. I know I haven't kept my promise of regular updates, but I promise I will finish this story and it will never be abandoned.

At the moment I'm finding it difficult to set aside time to work on it, but I promise I will try to give you guys something more. As for this chapter, I wanted to show that although Jon has inherited the fighting skills of both sides of his family, he is not invincible. As for what he looks like at this stage, just imagine season 7 Jon from the show but with violet eyes and less solemn at this moment.

Next chapter will be the beginning of the war and the mustering of the various armies of Westeros. Again I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported this story, I never believed that it would gain the follows and favourites that it has, but you guys are amazing, so until next time.