Song of A Northern Sorcerer

Groaning in discomfort, Jon Snow forcibly opened his heavy eyes groggily as he slowly came to. Blinking dumbly, he found himself staring skywards and seeing only tress and leaves above him. 'What…? Where…?' In a rush, it all came back to him. The falling star. His foolish venture into the wolfswood. His encounter with the wildlings and the strange kni – "The wildlings!" Jon shouted, shooting upwards into a sitting position, only to immediately fall back down onto his back groaning loudly as his head and the world around him started spinning uncontrollably.

"I wouldn't try to sit up again so fast, boy," a distorted voice said to him through the spinning world around him. "It's amazing you even managed to maintain the strength to keep going for so long after running out of food and water. What limited energy you had left has been used in the healing of your body. And you have nothing to fear of the wildlings, boy. Kind of hard to be a threat when they're dead."

Blinking and trying to stop the spinning, Jon groggily rolled onto his side in the direction of the distorted voice. The first thing he saw was a low burning fire made of twigs and branches. Resting above the fire on a makeshift spit was a hare, skinned and cooking. Jon's mouth watered greedily as the smell of the cooked meat reached him and his stomach roared, reminding him just how long it'd been since he'd last ate anything.

Fighting down the temptation to lunge for the meat, Jon forced his eyes past the fire and to the figure sitting just beyond. The mysterious knight was sitting with his back resting against a nearby tree, his strange helm still in place and facing towards him with unseeing eyes.

Biting his lip, Jon carefully and slowly made to sit up, taking care to avoid the world spinning on him again. "You…You saved me, Ser Knight. I – thank you."

"Think nothing of it, boy," the strange knight continued in his distorted voice. "That rabble was hardly a challenge. My morning workout is more taxing. Now, eat. I did what I could to heal you without having to use your own energy reserves, but healing a body is taxing, even with help."

Licking his lips, Jon hardly waited to be told twice before he all but lunged for the rabbit. Picking up the spit, he bit greedily into the side of, nearly moaning as the taste of meat hit his tongue after so long without food. Before he'd even realized it, he'd picked clean the little amount of meat on one of the four legs and had started in on the body of the hare.

"Not so fast," the mysterious stranger's distorted voice chided him, making him stop eating for a moment. "You haven't eaten in a while. Resist what your body is telling you and eat slowly. If you don't, you'll only make yourself sick."

Taking his words to heart, Jon forced himself to slow his eating, taking smaller bites from the hare instead of the large ones he'd started with. When Jon had finished off the last bits of meat from the small hare, his stomach felt much better than it had. Only to jump again when the mysterious knight held out a water skin for him.

"So, tell me, boy," the knight said as Jon slowly, but greedily, drank from the water skin. "What is your name? I can't keep referring to you as 'boy'."

Jon immediately felt his now moistened throat run dry. "Jon…Snow."

"Jon Snow? Interesting name." The stranger replied, but not with the tone that Jon was used to hearing. Instead the way he said his name almost sounded like…he didn't care. 'Does he not know what the name Snow means? Does he…does he not know that I'm a bastard? A stain on my father's honor?' "I suppose that turnabout is fair play. My name is Alim Nox. But you, Jon, may refer to me as Nox."

"Lord Nox," Jon greeted the Lord. He had to be a Lord after all. Only a Lord or a king could afford armor like what he was wearing. "Thank you for…well…for saving me."

"I was in the area. And I have a soft spot for those who cannot help themselves. A weakness many have said, but I find strength in it." Lord Nox replied with a shrug. "Now tell me, do you feel any lingering pain from the injuries you suffered at the hands of the wildlings?"

The stranger's question caught Jon off guard. But, now that it was brought to his attention, he realized with a start that, no, he didn't feel any pain anymore. In fact, he felt better now that he'd eaten and drank for the first time in days. As soon as the thought hit him, his eyes widened. Almost fumbling in his haste, Jon reached down to the backside of his leg and felt where the arrow had struck him. He could feel the still drying blood on his pants and the hole in the fabric that the arrow had made. But when his fingers touched his skin, he felt…nothing. There was no wound at all!

Eyes widening even further, he turned his attention back to Lord Nox. 'There…I was hit with an arrow! I know it! I remember when one of guards took an arrow in the arm during target practice. It took Maester Luwin hours to cut the arrow out of him! And even then, it took weeks for the wound to even heal properly! But he…whatever the stranger did made it so that it looks and feels like I was never hit with an arrow in the first place!'

There was only one explanation that Jon's six-name-day mind immediately jumped too. Magic. It was the only way the stranger could've healed him so fast. And…And it also explained how he was able to defeat so many wildlings with ease. And how he could create a sword made of pure fire! But that was impossible! Maester Luwin was adamant that magic no longer existed! That Valyria was the last ember of magic and that when the last of the dragons died, so too did magic! Even his father didn't believe in magic.

"Are…Are you a sorcerer? You can do magic, can't you?" he asked timidly, both afraid and excited about the answer to come.

Across from him, Lord Nox tilted his head to the side. "There are some who call me such. And given our current situation, the title shall suffice for now. And, yes, to put it in layman's terms, I can use 'magic'. Although, calling it 'magic' is a gross simplification of what the Force is."

Jon wasn't quite sure just what he'd meant by that, but neither did he care. All that he cared about was the fact that Lord Nox, the one who saved him from the wildlings, could do magic! "Can you show me!?" Jon exclaimed, jumping up to his feet and nearly bouncing in his excitement. "And your sword of fire! Can you do that all the time? What else can you do? Can you lift objects with your mind? Can you bewitch people? Can you make fire from thin air? Are there others who can do magic like yourself in your homeland? Can you-"

"Boy," Lord Nox said sharply, cutting off Jon and ending any questions he had. "Slow. Down. The Force, or magic as you call it, is not a party favor to entertain children with. Yes, I can do most what you asked, but I will not show it. Not now. Because there is no need to do so. Should the need arise, I will gladly show you what I am capable of. But not now. And as for my homeland… Suffice to say that it is now impossible for me to return home. As it is impossible for anyone from my home to find me."

It was all Jon could do to keep himself from bursting with questions as he sat back down. But the courtesy that his father…and Lady Stark had drilled into him as of late demanded that he accepts the stranger's command and cease asking questions. Licking his lips, Jon drank a little more from the water skin, trying his best to hold it in but in the end unable to do so. "Can…Can you teach others to…well…do what you do?"

Again, Lord Nox tilted his head to the side. "If an individual shows an aptitude for the Force, then yes, I can teach them what I know. But few have the conviction or desire to withstand the training one needs to go through in order to learn."

"Can you teach me?" Jon asked before he could help himself. Then he quickly started folding in on himself as soon as he did so. 'You're a bastard, Jon…Even if you could learn, he wouldn't accept you. A true born, yes, but not a bastard. No one cares for a bastard. Lady Stark has made that point many times.'

Across from him, Lord Nox crossed his arms over his chest. "Perhaps. You have the spark necessary. But the question is: do you have the will to do what I say when I say it? If I tell you to jump, will you jump? If I tell you to fight, will you fight? If I tell you to do the impossible, will you find a way to do it?"

Feeling hope swell in his chest, Jon eagerly nodded. "Yes!"

Jon could almost see the upturning of Lord Nox's mouth behind his mask. "We shall see if that is true. But that is a discussion for another time. For now, tell me Jon why does a boy of your age come into a forest like this unsupervised? Surely, your parents are worried about you."

At the mention of his parents, Jon immediately curled in on himself again. 'Bastard. Stain on my Lord husband's honor!' "I…saw a falling star. But no one believed me. I – I had to come. I wanted to find it. I wanted to prove that…that I'm…"

"That you're what?"

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Jon turned his eyes away from Lord Nox took the plunge. "That I'm more than just a…a bastard."

That was it. Now Lord Nox would never be willing to teach him anything. He was a bastard. He didn't deserve the same lessons as his true born brothers and sisters. And he certainly didn't deserve to learn magic.

"A fairly foul term to use on yourself, Jon," Lord Nox commented, making Jon blink and turn back to him. "Unless, ohhh, you mean the term quite literally. As you were born out of wedlock. I see. And you feel ashamed of this. Why?"

"Because I'm a stain on my father's honor." Jon answered almost immediately, his lips moving before he even realized it as the words Lady Stark screamed at him not a moon's past came to him. 'I – I didn't mean to answer so quickly.' "Lady Stark…My father's wife, she – she has made it clear that I do not deserve the same lessons as my true born brother and sisters."

"Hmmm, I see. And what does your mother say?"

"I don't know. I don't know who she is." Jon answered again almost immediately. 'Why do I keep answering so quickly?' "My father, he won't tell me about her. No matter how much I beg or cry! It doesn't matter, he won't tell me who she is. Where she is. If she even loves me at all. All he says is that he will tell me when I'm older. I'm old enough now! I'm seen six-name-days! Yet still, he won't tell me."

Breathing heavily after his tirade, Jon immediately felt ashamed of his outburst. He had no right to be angry with his father for not telling him. His father took him in and was raising him alongside his true born children. Jon had no right to complain. None at all. If it wasn't for Lord Stark, he knew that he would be sent somewhere far away from home and never be able to return.

Across the fire from him, Lord Nox merely sat with his hands tucked under his chin as he listened to Jon. "I see. So, you were hoping that by finding a fallen star that you could somehow prove your worth to your father and this…Lady Stark?"

"Yes," Jon nodded, sitting down heavily, words falling from his mouth faster than he could think them. "The last star that'd fallen to the earth was found by House Dayne, and they forged the sword Dawn, the greatest sword in the land. I thought that if I did the same, then maybe…just maybe, my father would give me the Stark name. I don't care about the sword, or whatever they can make from the star, I just…I just want to be a Stark. A true Stark. Not a bastard."

By the time he was done, he was breathing like he'd just run through the wolfswood again. Risking a glance upwards, Jon looked towards Lord Nox, waiting and dreading his rebuke. The rebuke he knew was coming. The same rebuke everyone gave him whenever he tried to prove that he was worthy of having the Stark name. But instead, the knight merely sat across the fire from him in silence, his hands folded before where he assumes his mouth was on his mask.

"Interesting," Lord Nox rumbled without warning. "Keep that drive, young Jon. It will serve you well. And while I cannot help you find this 'star', I can perhaps still help you achieve your goal. But that will be a discussion for another time. For now, I believe that it is high time that I return you to your father."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jon's joy at hearing that Lord Nox might be able to help him was quickly dampened at the reminder that his Lord Father was more than likely out searching for him. "You're frightened," Lord Nox said suddenly, making Jon start. "Why?"

Swallowing, Jon lowered his head in shame. "My father. He's going to be so mad at me."

"Of course he is," Lord Nox answered, surprising Jon with just how quickly he did. "He's your father. And you ran away and went off on a potential dangerous, and, quite frankly, idiotic quest to find some 'fallen star' you may or may not have even seen. But do you know why your father will be angry with you?"

Biting his lip, Jon tucked his legs in close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "Because I disobeyed him."

"No – well, yes, in part," Lord Nox nodded. "But the true reason as to why he will be angry with you is because he is scared."

"Scared?" Jon repeated, looking up at the man who'd saved his life and feeling slightly offended. "My father is Warden of the North! Lord of the North! He fought in the Rebellion against the Targaryens and won! He fought against Ser Arthur Dayne and won! He isn't afraid of anything!"

The stranger merely shook his head at the end of Jon's rant. "Young man, there is still much you need to learn. First and foremost is that there are many, many types of fear. Just because one has courage to fight on the frontlines or face a superior opponent does not mean that they do not know fear. The fear that you instilled in your father is the fear of loss. For it is our loved ones that can usually cause the greatest of fears to rear its ugly head."

Blinking, Jon tried to piece together just what the masked Lord was talking about. 'Many types of fear? Those we love can cause the greatest of fear? He isn't making any sense!'

"But all of this philosophy is a discussion for another time," Lord Nox stated, bringing an end to the conversation as he rose to his feet and kicked some dirt over the small fire to smother it. "I think it is high time that I brought you back to your father, don't you?."

Rising to his feet with the masked Lord, Jon bit his lip as he turned around in a slow circle, trying to find any sign of the path he took to get to this point. After two passes and not finding any sign of how he got to where they were, Jon turned back to the masked Lord feeling more than slightly embarrassed. "Do…Do you know where to go? I – I lost my way and don't know the way back."

Picking up a single sack that was nearly half as tall as Jon was, the masked Lord slung it over his shoulder and nodded off in a seemingly random direction. "I don't think we need to worry about finding our way. There are over a dozen men less than a quarter mile in that direction. And one of them…has a familial connection with yourself."

Springing around quickly and facing off in the direction the masked Lord had nodded towards, Jon squinted into the forest trying to see if he could see the men. But all he could see were…trees. "How…How do you know?" he asked, turning back to the masked Lord. "I can't see anything other than trees."

Jon wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure the muffled noise coming out from under the masked Lord's helmet was him laughing. "In time, Jon, you will learn that there are many ways to 'see'. Now, come. If we're lucky, we can make this reunion short and make our way back to the camp the wildlings were using. They won't be using it again, and no sense in letting it go to waste."

Deciding to trust the masked Lord, Jon fell into step beside him as he led the two of them away from the smothered fire and off into a seemingly random direction of the forest. After a few minutes Jon was beginning to have his doubts about what Lord Nox had 'seen', because all he could see were trees and more trees. But just as he was about to say something, he saw a flicker of something between the trees a fair distance away. He felt his heart race as he spotted the flicker again, and then another beside it. And his heart went racing as he heard a faint but familiar voice calling his name through the trees.