Game Of Thrones The Second Bastard - Chapter 2 Lyanna

In his mother’s bosom together with him was his twin brother that kicked him on the way out. Edward was not in the mood to pay back his brother but was fully focused on his mother laying there in bed.

“She is dying!” Edward was frightened. What would happen to him and his brother after his mother died? He didn’t see his father around, and while his vision was not normal, yet he could determine that the room they were in wasn’t that great.

Outside the place was sounds of fighting. Sword against sword, the sound of flesh being cut was audible to newly born baby, but he wondered who could be fighting outside.

The fight had ended after a couple minutes and he could hear a person walking up to the door.

Bang! The door swung open.

“Ned?” my mother spoke in a feeble voice.

“Lyanna” A man in his twenty’s runs up to the bed.

“Is that you? Is that really you?” she spoke while hand the man’s hand, “your not a dream?.”

“No, I am not a dream. I’m here. Right here.” This man seems to love her very much. Is this man my dad? I wondered. Wait, did he just say LYANNA! AS IN LYANNA STARK? DOES THAT ME THIS PIECE OF SHIT BESIDE ME IS THE KING OF THE NORTH JON SNOW!

Wait that means this person is either, “I missed you, big brother.” Well, that sums it up, this guy is Eddark Stark. My future father I guess.

“I’ve missed you, too”

“I want to be brave.”

“You are”

“I’m not.” Tears streaming down her face, ” I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not going to die.” Shifting his attention to the handmaid, “get her some water!”

“no, no water”

“is there are maester?” he asked cutting Lyanna off.

“Listen to me, Ned. Their names are Aegar and Aragon Targaryen If Robert finds out he’ll kill them. You know he will. You have to protect them. Promise me Ned. Promise me.”

Eddark takes me and my brother into his arms and looks at us with tears in his eyes.

“Promise me”

I was in tears, but my feeble body wasn’t capable of tears. She was just like my mother, willing to sacrifice everything for me. I was too weak to help her. Too weak to save I dosed to sleep as my consciousness gave in.

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The first rays of the spring sun shone down over the cruel winter that had just past.

Here you could see two pale-faced men nearly seventeen years of age. Each with an equally strong stature trading blow after blow with one another.

“Edward, you’ve gotten mushy after all these years, have you?” Jon said with a smug look on his face. Surprisingly even in this life, I was given the name Edward. Though this isn’t my true name and neither is Jon’s it wasn’t time to talk about it yet.

“Weak? How many wins do you have, and how many do I?” I replied with a cross strike trying to catch Jon off guard.

“The past is the past, the only fight that every truly matters is the one at hand.” Countering after blocking the strike with a large sweep of his own to create space.

“JON! ED! Father told me to tell you to go teach Bran how to shoot a bow.” Arya our little tomboy sister yelled across the courtyard.

“Let’s go, shall we?” continuing our little horseplay while we make it to the archery setup on the other side of the courtyard. Surprisingly Jon didn’t seem as stiff as he did in the show, probably because of me. Having someone so close to him other than Robb probably made the difference.

“Loser teaches Bran,” I state as if it was a fact and run off before he could reply.

The past seventeen years have been spent learning about the world of Westeros and Esteros, and while I may not have access to as much information as the citadel contains word of mouth from the people of the north do go a long way.

I have also been practicing the mystical sword art I saw from the statue in the courtroom in Hel. After practicing it with a wooden sword in secret I decided to name it Phantom Storm Art, knowing that no sword art should be left unnamed. The art was like a storm strong and controlling, it made you seem strong like the lightning in a storm, but untouchable like the wind.

After leaving Jon I decided to go back and continue practicing my swordsmanship. I felt that I was on the cusp of breaking through to the next level, though not quite sure what that next level would be.

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Two hours after training by myself I noticed a messenger running quickly through the gates. Curious about what it could be able and noticing that the training had led to no improvements I tailed him.

“My Lord they found a deserter.” That was all they had to say to the guards before leaving and making his way to my father, the Lord of Winterfell.

“Great more meaningless stuff for me to attend,” I mutter to myself as I make my way to Jon to inform him of the new developments.