JohnnyZ
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Bastardborn (Sneak Peek)
🕑 Added 2024-12-06 19:13:38 +0000 UTCFandom: Asoiaf x Skyrim (minor crossover)
Original: Бастардорождённый by DBorn
Status: Hiatus (70 chapters)
Rating: NSFW, harem
Synopsis: The Dragonborn—one of Nirn's greatest and most powerful heroes—finds himself in the body of a certain infamous bastard. Does he have a purpose in this new world, or is it just another of the gods' cruel jokes? Either way, he's not about to settle for the fate of an ordinary bastard.
While the body may be too weak to take on the "player," it has just enough strength to ruin their "game".
Translator Notes: The story is on hiatus and has been for the past 1.5 years there is however a chance that it might be picked up again in the near future.
(Add. Notes: I am unsure if I should add this story to the rotation. I'll try to translate the first couple of chapter and see if people are interested.)
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Prologue
Bastards grow up faster. It’s a truth widely accepted across Westeros: bastards grow up faster. And the hero of our story was no exception. One of little Jon Snow’s earliest memories wasn’t a happy one. A grey-eyed boy of two, he reached his small hands toward his father’s wife and said, “Mama!”
What had he expected? That Lady Stark might scoop him up like she did his brother, offer him praise, or stroke his head affectionately? Instead, he was met with a face twisted in anger, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes blazing with poorly concealed fury. She hissed something under her breath and turned sharply away. Jon could only watch as she walked off, then shift his gaze to the sympathetic servants whispering in hushed tones around the corner.
No one noticed that this was the first time Jon had clearly pronounced a word. Until then, he had been mostly silent, avoiding any effort to speak. Maester Luwin assured everyone that the boy was healthy and would start talking in time. The septon, however, muttered that the child was cursed by the gods—as was fitting for the product of sin. Perhaps it would have been better if Jon had stayed silent that day.
This memory wasn’t his first, but it stuck with him, etched deeply into his mind—a day he would never forget, no matter how much he might wish to.
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Soon, Jon learned what it meant to be a bastard. He also learned to see the world differently. Bastards notice everything: the stares cast their way, the hidden motives behind glances, and the unspoken truths in people’s eyes. To stay safe, Jon had to be vigilant and diplomatic. No one would mourn a bastard, even one fathered by the Warden of the North. Warmth from his father’s wife was something he would never receive—he realized that early on.
Despite tradition, Jon grew up alongside his legitimate brother and later with the rest of his father’s children. Robb became his closest friend. They spent their days playing and studying together, much to Lady Stark’s dismay.
When Jon was four, he and Robb had their first serious argument. They were pretending to be ancient heroes from northern legends. Jon proudly declared:
“I’m Theon Stark, the Hungry Wolf—one of the Kings of Winter!”
To which Robb retorted, “You’re not a Stark and never will be. You’re just a bastard, Jon.”
Jon might have ignored the comment had it not been delivered in a deliberate, lecturing tone. It was obvious Robb was mimicking someone—and Jon didn’t have to think hard to guess who.
Furious, Jon lashed out and beat Robb badly. Despite the small age gap, Jon was much stronger, and to everyone’s surprise, emerged from the scuffle unscathed. Robb, on the other hand, hadn’t even tried to fight back. That evening, Lady Catelyn demanded the “wretched boy” be sent away, convinced he’d tried to kill her son.
Lord Stark sighed heavily when Jon explained the reason for the fight. Ned wasn’t angry; instead, he saw the wolf’s blood in Jon—just as fierce and untamed as it had been in Lyanna or Brandon. Still, Jon was punished.
That day, Jon came to a bitter realization: his father’s wife feared him. He was too much like a Stark, more so than her own children, and it grated on her. She never missed an opportunity to remind her children that they were better than the bastard, if only because they were born in wedlock.
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Jon’s Stark-like appearance caused more trouble later on. When Lord Glover visited Winterfell with his family, he remarked how much Jon resembled his father and gave him a gift—one that, it turned out, was meant for Robb.
Lady Stark was livid. Though she remained outwardly polite, her cold demeanor spoke volumes. Lord Glover, equally affronted, refrained from voicing his true thoughts: that none of her children looked much like Stark blood. This wasn’t the last time such a mix-up happened, though it was hard to tell if other lords genuinely mistook the boys or sought to provoke Lady Stark, who was disliked by many northern lords for her southern ways.
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Jon and Robb didn’t speak for nearly a month after the fight, but they eventually made up. Robb found little enjoyment in the company of his baby sister Sansa, and the servants’ children treated him with cautious politeness, lacking the easy camaraderie he shared with Jon. Meanwhile, Jon spent his days caring for a raven chick he’d found in the woods. The bird, likely abandoned from its nest, was weak, but Jon nursed it back to health. To everyone’s surprise, it became tame and obedient, following Jon’s commands.
“Why didn’t you ask Father for permission to keep it?” Robb asked one day.
“There’s no need,” Jon replied. “No one in the castle cares what a bastard does, as long as he doesn’t bother them. And I don’t bother them.”
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As Jon grew older, he understood the limits of his station. No noble wife, no grand inheritance—no castle or gold would ever be his. Lady Stark’s hatred ensured he would never be legitimized. But there was freedom in that, too. He wasn’t bound by rules or obligations like Robb was. As a bastard, he had less to lose and more to gain. He was determined to make the most of it.
When the boys began their formal training, Jon threw himself into it. They learned reading, riding, swordplay, and more. Once he could read, Jon practically lived in the library, devouring books on dragons, religion, geography, and warfare. He even argued with his father once, insisting dragons couldn’t reproduce naturally, until Ned presented irrefutable evidence that forced Jon to reluctantly concede. Jon never explained why he had believed otherwise.
It seemed the boy excelled at everything he tried, regardless of the discipline. Horse riding, sword fighting, archery, mathematics—Jon Snow showed promise in it all. But this talent came with its own lessons. Jon quickly learned to appear less skilled than Robb during training, at least when their parents were watching. A bastard outshining the trueborn heir soured Lady Stark’s mood, which inevitably trickled down to how the servants treated Jon. Oversalted food, insufficient firewood in his chambers, or unwashed and unmended clothing became common consequences.
Bastards grow up fast, and Jon soon began taking care of his needs himself. He mended his clothes, chopped firewood, and snuck into the kitchens when hunger struck. A quiet child often goes unnoticed, and Jon made use of that. But even as a five-year-old, he found subtle ways to get under Lady Catelyn’s skin. For example, he took to calling Moat Cailin "Moat Catelyn" during lessons, just because it annoyed her.
Jon didn't need constant supervision and dedicated his time to self-improvement, whether it was reading, training, or exploring. He had plenty of free time to himself.
The years passed, and Jon grew taller, leaner, and stronger. By his early teens, he was already half a head taller than Robb, with dark brown hair that bordered on black. Of all Lord Stark’s children, Jon resembled him the most. He took an interest in the castle forge and convinced the smith to let him help. For his age, Jon showed remarkable aptitude, crafting nails, horseshoes, arrowheads, and basic tools with ease. Working in the forge tempered his already growing physical strength.
Jon’s relationship with his siblings changed over time. He and Sansa were close when they were young, but that warmth faded once she grew old enough to understand what "bastard" meant. From then on, she mimicked her mother’s behavior. Jon wasn’t deeply hurt by her rejection, though he did enjoy teasing and scaring her when the opportunity arose. Once, after Old Nan’s tales of the Long Night and the White Walkers, Jon enlisted Robb’s help to prank Sansa. They doused Robb in flour, and he stormed into the crypts to scare her. Sansa ran crying to their father, swearing she’d seen a White Walker. Jon and Robb were found in the crypts, laughing and plotting their next prank, and Jon was punished for it—again.
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There had been a time when the Dragonborn, in another life, debated with his immortal companion about the fate of his soul. Many claimed it—Nocturnal for his oath to the Twilight Sepulcher, Hircine for his brief time as a werewolf, Hermaeus Mora for his dealings with forbidden knowledge, and even Namira for his connection to her cult. And, of course, Sovngarde awaited him as a Companion and a hero of Skyrim.
By the end of his mortal life, the Dragonborn had ascended to near-divine enlightenment, almost godlike in his power. Would he become the tenth divine? Replace Talos? Or fade into myth? His companion, Serana, believed in his ascension, while the Dragonborn mused that Akatosh and Hermaeus Mora would have to negotiate over his soul, given his ties to both.
Yet when the end came, his soul bypassed Nirn entirely, hurtling into a new world. He awoke as a newborn child, his soul merging with the infant's. The gods had played a trick, sending him to a world that clearly needed a chosen one.
Here, he was Jon Snow, a bastard born to the Warden of the North. It was a stark contrast to his previous life as an orphan in the Imperial City. His appearance was nearly identical, and he still carried the blessing of the Lord constellation, shielding him from magical and physical harm. However, he was no longer Breton—that much he knew. What he had become, he wasn’t entirely sure. His name, "Jon," was similar enough to "Jonathan," though its significance in this world was unclear. Perhaps they were the same.
He had no memories of his mother, only the faint silhouette of his father and the warmth of his hands. His first priority was understanding why he had been sent to this world. But until then, he would grow, learn, and prepare.
