Paleblood Bastard

It started with a simple sickness. A child with the pox, cursed by the same woman that prayed over him. I remember Lady Stark over my bed, swearing to figments to treat me as her own, weeping into her clenched fists. As if the Seven could save me, could dare challenge the will of the Hunt. I remember a man walking through the door, saying he could save me, but he would have to take me away. I wonder if Lady Stark would have kept her promise.

How long has it been? How long since this fight began? I had defied Gehrman, sought to free him from this dream. He took my life a dozen times, yet I refused to yield. The first time I had died in a single strike. His scythe slicing through me just as it did the flowers around me. Yet he fell to me, then it came. The Moon Presence was strong, every second it tried to flay my mind, almost binding me with my first death, just as it did the old man. But I was more than he was, so I rose and fought. Until the Nightmare was slain. I was cold, then mother picked me up.

The North

I strolled through the woods, the trees bare of leaves, my feet striding across the snow, leaving no tracks, my cloak fluttering in the faint breeze, and my trusted cane at my side. The moon hung high in the sky, not a cloud in sight, revealing countless stars. The world was silent, no wolves howled, for they were hiding in their dens, and no birds flew. The chill in the air didn't reach me.

This land…I never realized how quiet it was, how simple. I could feel nothing hovering above, seeking to devour my mind. I could see nothing in the shadows, or in the corner of my eye. This land was exactly what it appeared to be. How quaint. Yet looking at the stars, I could feel Eyes, watching me, waiting for a single slip, so they could slip through.

Soon I found a road and began to follow it, the moon racing across the sky as I walked. A scream rang through the still night, coming from the rode in front of me, I simply continued my stroll and it didn't take long for me to come across a pitiful sight. Four men stood over a screaming woman, each covered in furs. She lay on the ground, surrounded by three bodies, much better dressed, though not finely, their red ichor staining the snow a lovely shade. A man was hovering above her, fiddling with his pants.

"Excuse me ma'am, do you require some aid?" I asked, addressing her and making my presence known to the wildlings. They turned to look at me, and began talking, not that I paid attention to what they were threatening. Instead I focused on the woman, her tear-filled eyes attempting to lock onto mine, peering into my black glasses. No doubt I made a frightening sight, my face covered in a cloth mask, my glasses covering my eyes, barely an inch of skin was showing. "Please…" She whimpered out.

I clicked my cane, flicking my wrist, and the snow was painted red, the night returning to silence. At that, I simply continued my path down the road to Winterfell. It was time to see my family.

AN: Hello and welcome all! This idea came as a result of my love for Bloodborne and Game of Thrones (excluding s7-8, which I'm still angry about) and I was saddened to see how few crossovers existed between the two. I would also like to note that it is unlikely I will be updating this on a regular schedule, as it is only one of several things I am writing, and my original pieces take precedence. This also happens to be my first attempt at fanfiction.

Jon will be largely OOC as he was taken from Winterfell at a fairly young age and has been effectively raised in the Hunters Dream.