Song of A Northern Sorcerer

The two men looked at one another, seemingly unsure of just how to answer him. "My Lord, his skill is undeniable," Ser Rodrik replied cautiously. "But there is something…off about him, my Lord."

"When he started sparing against myself and our men, my Lord," Jory continued, "I…I could've sworn for a moment I felt…cold. As if the Stranger of the Seven had descended upon us and taken form in that man. It lasted only a moment, but for that moment I honestly felt like I was going to die just from standing before him."

"And then there was his fight with you, my Lord." Ser Rodrik continued slowly. This time taking his time as if he were measuring each word before speaking. "Forgive me for asking, my Lord but…have you been holding back when you train with our men?"

That brought Ned up short. "No." He answered simply. He didn't believe in holding back when it came to training. You did yourself and your sparring partner no good if you held back.

Shifting his weight, Ser Rodrik looked more than slightly uncomfortable as he continued. "I didn't mean to give offense, my Lord. But that man took on over a dozen of our best and bested them while hardly breaking a sweat. And then you were able to keep pace with him. A pace that, quite simply, my Lord, was unbelievable. You two were moving so fast that I could hardly track your blades. And…and there was one more thing, my Lord. I don't believe anyone else saw but myself and Jory…but we both saw what we saw and…"

"And what?" Ned pressed, growing slightly agitated at the hesitation in his Master at Arms as the wolf within him was still prowling, angry at its recent defeat.

"Your eyes, my Lord." Jory picked up for Rodrik. "Your eyes were yellow. Like a wolf."

The wolf within Ned quieted as shock swept through Ned. 'My eyes…changed color? Ridiculous.' Yet as he stared at Ser Rodrik and Jory, there was no lie in their eyes. They meant what they said. And he trusted them. "The wolfsblood," he muttered, turning and staring off in the direction that Nox had departed in.

"Sorry, my Lord?"

"The wolfsblood, Ser Rodrik." Ned repeated, turning back to the two men. "Nox, he said something during our spar to me. That I needed to stop holding the wolf in. That I needed to let it out otherwise I would have no hope of defeating him."

The two men blinked and looked even more uneasy. "My Lord," Ser Rodrik said slowly. "You…Neither you nor Nox uttered a single word during your spar, my Lord. You both kept quiet and focused on one another. And that was it."

Hours later when the sun had sunk well below the horizon, Ned found himself in his solar indulging in a horn of ale. He wasn't necessarily one for drinking. But tonight, after his fight with Nox and the subsequent conversation with Jory and Ser Rodrik, he felt that it was more than warranted and needed. 'My eyes turned yellow like a wolf. And Nox and I talked without talking. How…How could such things happen without my noticing?'

Taking another drink from the horn, Ned settled deeper into his chair as he stared into the fire burning in the hearth before him. The wolf within him seemed almost…content now. It was no longer pacing nor howling. It was at peace. Perhaps because Ned had done as Nox had suggested? He'd set the wolf free from the cage he'd built around it during the spar. And afterwards, he'd simply forgot to put it back. But now…now he almost didn't want to put it back. What he felt during the spar was…turbulent. Anger, fear, excitement. All surged through him in a rush giving him strength and speed he didn't know he possessed. And afterwards when the wolf had quieted, he'd found a peace he hadn't known since before he'd been sent to foster at the Eyrie.

"Come in, Vayon," Ned called out without looking over his shoulder.

The door to his chamber opened and he heard his steward shuffle in. "My lord, um, forgive me but…how did you know I had arrived."

Ned was about to answer that he'd heard his knock, but then stopped himself. He hadn't heard a knock. There'd been no knock. He'd simply known that Vayon was outside his solar. "I was expecting you." Ned lied, finishing off the last of his ale and rising to face his steward. "Has Nox completed the training regime?"

Vayon recovered quickly from his shock and nodded, handing Ned a roll of parchment. "Aye, my Lord. He's written up quite the regime. While I am no expert in the field, my lord, I worry just how many of our men would be able to complete such training."

Unrolling the scroll, Ned's eyes widened as he kept unrolling more and more. When the length of the scroll had surpassed the length of his arm with still more to go, Ned stopped and rolled it back up. "Give this to Jory and Ser Rodrik." Ned commented, handing it back to Vayon. "They will have to change some of the suggestions. But if this training can produce warriors even half of the caliber of Nox, then few will dare to challenge the North again."

"I agree, my Lord," Vayon nodded, taking the scroll back before handing Ned another. "This is a list of supplies that…Nox wrote up. He says that he needs what's written on here in the quantities written or greater to begin several projects that will benefit Winterfell and the North."

Taking the scroll, Ned unrolled it and began reading. 'Clay. Bone ash. Limestone. Straw. Coal. Mortar. Fine grain sand. Dozens of other building materials but nothing expensive. But the quantities that he's requesting will take more than sometime to collect.' "And has he mentioned what projects specifically he needs these for?"

"No, my lord." Vayon responded by shaking his head. "But I did not ask either."

"I see," Ned replied, rolling up the scroll and setting it back down on his desk. Turning his back on Vayon, he faced the fire once more. "Tell Nox I wish to speak with him at first light in the godswood before the heart tree. I will ask what his plans for these materials are. And if I deem them worthy cause, then you will see to having them delivered."

"Very well, my Lord," Vayon bowed. "Will there be anything else, my Lord?"

"No," Ned replied, resuming his seat before the fire. "You are dismissed for the night."

"Thank you, my Lord."

Hearing the door to his solar shut, Ned closed his eyes and tried to find the wolf within him again. He found it easily. Relaxed and at peace. Which brought Ned no small amount of peace as well. Conjuring up the cage he'd kept the wolf in for years, he was about to put it back but then hesitated. Why did he need to cage the wolf? Jon Arryn had known of the Stark's wolfsblood when he'd arrived, and he'd always stressed that Ned couldn't let it control him. That he needed to keep the wolf contained at all times. Yet…letting the wolf out had allowed him to go strike for strike with both Arthur Dayne and now Alim Nox. And he felt…at peace with the wolf released. So, why should he cage the wolf again? But at the same time, it was the wolfsblood that convinced Lyanna to run off like she did and subsequently start a war. It was the wolfsblood that caused his brother to run down to King's Landing and call out the Mad King and his son and demand justice against them. Little good came from the wolfsblood.

Within him, he could almost see the wolf perk up, its eyes staring at the mental cage Ned had made for it. As the minutes ticked by, the wolf did nothing but stare at him and the cage, waiting for Ned to make his move. 'No,' Ned thought, dissolving the cage within his mind, which almost seemed to make the wolf happier as it resumed its rest. 'I will not let fear rule me.'

Waking the next morning, Nox slowly extracted himself from the warmth of his bed. The cold northern air kissed his naked flesh as he rose. While this land was not the coldest that he'd ever been in, that was and would always be Hoth, it was still slightly colder than what he was typically used too. But despite the chill, he had slept completely naked. That was a habit he'd picked up after spending more than a few nights with his light, and they'd even occasionally ended up literally destroying each other's clothes by morning. And thus, he couldn't sleep well while wearing clothes.

'Okay, I really need to rethink my priorities on how to advance this world,' Nox thought with a frown as he bent backwards and cracked his back in several places at once, relieving the stress that'd built there. 'A proper mattress is now high on my list of things I need to teach this world.'

After completing his morning exercises, he made his way over to the small desk and picked up his clothes. 'I'm going to need new clothes soon too,' he thought, staring down at his Sith robes. After days of wearing them, their stench was staring to become most noticeable. He'd just finished putting on his pants when he felt the presence of the serving girl Nyra just outside of his door. "No need to knock, Nyra. You are free to come in."

"Milord, I brought you a change of – oh my! I…Forgive me!"

Smiling, Nox could almost hear the young woman's thoughts as he focused in on her. Her back was firmly turned towards him, but he could feel the embarrassment and…more than slight desire that was coming from her. Deciding to have a little fun with the innocent young woman, Nox didn't bother to finish getting dressed. "There is no need to be shy, Nyra. I'm not. Unless you believe that I have something to be ashamed about?"

"No!" Nyra nearly shouted. The wave of desire within her thickening as her determination rose and she turned back towards him. "Umm, like I was saying I – by the old gods! What…What happened to you, milord?"

There was no need to ask what she'd meant. His chest, back and arms were covered with dozens of scars due his time as both a slave and a Sith. "Ah, yes," Nox nodded as he could feel the woman's desire dim. "Mementos of my past life. My life has not been easy. I would say that you should see the other guys, but they're all dead now."

The young woman didn't say anything as her eyes roamed over the dozens of scars adorning his chest before becoming locked on one. The one that should've ended his life. Nox didn't stop her as she took a tentative step forward, her hand rising seemingly of its own accord. He stood still as she reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the scar just to the right of his heart where Thanaton's lightsaber had pierced his chest after their first meeting. "By the gods…How are you still alive?"

Her touch, her voice, the look in her eye. They were the same as hers when she'd first seen it. Ashara. His light. His love. The one who'd been taken from him by the infighting of the Sith. Almost involuntarily, he stepped back away from her touch. His own playfulness gone as the painful reminder that his light was gone brought him back to reality. "Sheer luck, or the will of the gods, if you will." Nox responded far more coldly than he'd intended. "It doesn't matter now. It is in the past. And the one who did this is dead. Killed by my hand."

Nyra seemed frozen to her spot, her hand still raised with her fingers extended. After a moment, she shook herself and took a step back, her eyes widened with a slight fear. "Forgive me, milord. That was…That was far too forward of me."

Again, her thoughts were as clear as day to him. She was afraid that he would mention this moment to the head maid and then it would get back to Lady Stark. And if that happened, then the Lady of Winterfell would throw her out of the castle on her ear with nothing but the clothes on her back. "There is nothing to forgive. And what happened here will not be spoken off." Nox said, her fears lessening with his assurance. "And the fault is mostly mine. The last woman to touch me there…"

Recognition dawned in Nyra's eyes. "The woman that you…?"

"Yes," Nox answered not unkindly.

"I – I'm sorry, milord." Nyra responded, her voice laced with sorrow. "You must have cared for her greatly."

"I did," Nox replied, walking towards Nyra, who froze in place as he approached her. The hammering of her heart easy for his enhanced hearing to pick up as her breath quickened. It had been a long time since he'd had a woman. But as much as his body craved the warmth of a woman in his bed again, his heart was not ready. Not yet. The wounds Ashara's death left on him were still too fresh. So, instead of taking the young girl as his body yearned to do, he merely took the clothes she'd brought with her and turned his back on her. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," Nyra breathed, trying her best to compose herself before him. "Lord Stark wishes to speak with you in the godswood when you are ready."

"I see," Nox nodded. He'd expected this. The awakening of Lord Stark's Force sensitivity had no doubt been a shock to the Lord and he was sure that the man had more than a few questions for him. Setting the clothes aside, he reached for the top of his pants before stopping and turning back to Nyra, "Well, my dear, unless you want more of a show, I suggest you take your leave. But if you do want a show, then I think it'd only be fair to show me yours as well."

Her face went red as she quickly backpaddled her way out of his room. "No! I mean, ummm, yes, I mean… Good day, milord," she stuttered before making a hasty retreat out the door, almost slamming it shut on her way out.

Chuckling to himself, Nox went about the task of undressing himself and redressing in the clothes that'd been provided for him. As he pulled on the rough woolen and leather clothes, Nox's mind inevitably went back to what'd just transpired, and what had almost transpired. The serving girl was attractive, there was certainly no denying that. And she was obviously responding well to him. The Sith within him was yelling and screaming at him to take her and take his pleasure that he wanted. But a stronger part of him, the part that laid within the light, the part that allowed him to love Ashara held him back. It'd barely been a year since his light was taken from him. And while his body was more than willing, as evidence by how difficult he currently found it to undress, his mind and soul just wasn't ready to move past Ashara. Not yet.

Once he'd finished dressing, he made his way out of the guest quarters and towards the 'godswood' as the locals seemed to call the miniature forest they kept within the confines of the castle. 'Has to be of religious importance,' Nox thought as he passed by the two guards standing vigil near the entrance to the godswood. 'The books I found stated that the Northmen believe in the 'old gods'. Spirits that can see through the faces that'd been carved into the weirwood trees. Yet these gods have no names. And given that the weirwoods act as focal points for the Force, it can easily be assumed that the early first men mistook the 'old gods' for the Force itself. Entirely possible. And something to dig into when I have more time to conduct proper research into this world's history.'

Walking into the center clearing in the godswood, Nox caught sight of the Lord of Winterfell sitting on a large stone placed before the weirwood tree, his somber grey eyes focused unseeingly on the reflective pool before him. Strangely enough, the tree didn't seem as vibrant in the Force today as it did the day prior. In fact, the presence of the Force was almost muted completely. Much like when he'd first arrived. 'Curious, the tree was almost burst with the Force when I first stepped foot into the godswood. But now…now it is so muted that only those highly adept in sensing the Force could recognize it. Most peculiar. And one more thing to look into later.' "A heavy expression for so early in the day, Lord Stark."

"Nox," Lord Stark responded, his eyes not leaving the reflective pool. "I knew you were there before you even spoke. Even though you approached without a sound, I still knew you were there. Sights. Sounds. Tastes. Textures. Everything is…more intense. As if I'd been living my life in a fog until today." Pausing, the Stark tore his eyes off the reflective pool and met Nox's covered eyes. "I asked you here today for answers. I do not know if you believe in the old gods or not, but it is that that when in the presence of the old gods through the weirwood, one must tell the truth or be cursed by the gods themselves. So, in presence of my gods I ask you Nox, what did you do to me yesterday during our spar?"

'Fairly blunt,' Nox thought, somewhat amused as he held his hands behind his back and began to calmly and slowly walk around the reflective pool towards the Warden of the North. "I did nothing, Lord Stark. I merely encouraged you to open the cage, as it were. You were the one who did so. And from what I can sense, you haven't closed it off again either. But before we travel down this path any further, Lord Stark, let me ask you a question if you will. Do you know what it was that you had locked away within you?"

Ned turned pensive as he went back to gazing upon the reflective pool. "My family calls it the wolfsblood. It…It isn't well defined. But it's been associated with my family since the time of Bran the Builder. It was said the Bran used the wolfsblood to help design and create the Wall and Winterfell. It was said that it was the wolfsblood that helped the Starks to defeat all the other kings of winter and unite the North. And some even say that it was the wolfsblood that made Torrhen Stark kneel to Aegon the Conqueror."

"It's as good a place to start as any," Nox nodded. "The wolfsblood as you know it is a metaphor for something far greater. The Force."

Blinking, Lord Stark brought his attention back to Nox. "The Force? What is that?"

"Everything and nothing." Nox replied, as he started to pace back and forth in between Lord Stark and the reflective pool. "The Force is the alpha and the omega. The beginning and the end. It surrounds us, binds us, drives us. Everyone is affected by the Force, whether they know it or not. But those who are strong enough in the Force can use it and bend it to their will. I suppose, to put it simply, the Force is magic. Although that is a great under simplification of what the Force truly is. One could spend their whole life looking to understand the Force. And at the end of their life, they would've only begun to scratch the surface of the mystery that is the Force."