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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and all rights for characters, plots and settings belong to G.R.R. Martin and FromSoftware. I have no ownership.
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"Wait, is that what I think it is? You got it back for me? My sewing needle! What made you go and do a thing like that.... My mum was a seamstress...and that sewing kit was all I had to remember her by. I always wanted to be just like sweet old Mum. Then, I suppose I-I can't just curl up and die, can I? Thank you. You're very kind."
Boc the Seamster
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Westeros, Beyond the Wall
Aerion/Jon
Jon, listening to Bloodraven's story, was lost in thought. He had had his suspicions before, of course, but nothing more than speculation.
Now, if the old greenseer was to be believed, he had received the answers he sought, though not the ones he expected.
His parents' story was as tragic as it was disappointing, but could he blame them for their mistakes? Yes, but he could understand them; after what he had experienced with Ygritte, he understood how love could blind a person and rob them of common sense.
His mother was more innocent here; she was young and seeking escape from marriage to Robert Baratheon, which, according to Jon, was an unbeatable argument.
His father was definitely more guilty here; not only did he already have a wife and children, but he also bore the responsibility of the Seven Kingdoms as prince. However, according to Brynden Rivers, he had visions, dragon dreams of the Long Night.
He was convinced that his children would play a major role in the end of the world and believed in the prophecies about the three heads of the dragon, which he linked to his three children. Since Ellia could not bear more, he sought another woman. Lyanna had impressed him during the tourney at Harrenhal. However, under Westeros law, they were not officially wed.
Thus, he, the Song of Ice and Fire, was born.
Jon himself didn't know what to think, but he knew one thing: this information was necessary to finally accept who he was. That he was not Eddard Stark's bastard, a disgrace to his honour, but the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, a bastard, but also the child of a prophecy.
A prophecy that stretched back thousands of years, a vision upon which his entire line was built. Yet instead of feeling pressure at the thought, he felt only a determination burning within him.
He had already, against his will, become a tool in the hands of the gods to restore Order in the Lands Between, so he might as well be the damned child of prophecy.
He was Aerion, Jon, Sand, Snow, Targaryen, Stark, and Tarnished. Above all, he was a youth with significance, sought after by even the gods themselves, who could make a difference.
He was no longer an insignificant bastard dependent on kings and lords. Now everything depended on him. He could either lead both worlds to even greater ruin or save them.
Of course, he was still himself, so he knew perfectly well that there was only one path before him... he had a hero complex, after all.
"Jon... Jon, are you alright?" his brother's voice snapped him out of his thoughts, for that was the only way he could think of Bran.
He looked up, seeing the worried look in the boy kneeling beside him. He also realised he was sitting on the ground when he had believed he had been standing during the conversation.
"Aerion," he whispered.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Aerion. That's the name my mother gave me. Jon... Jon is the name given to me in honour of the man who helped overthrow my House. It no longer suits me," he replied, his voice growing firmer and more resolute with each word.
"I am Aerion Sand, but soon, when I reclaim the thrones stolen from my Houses, I may call myself a Targaryen or a Stark. For who then will dare call me a bastard?"
Bran's reaction to his words surprised him at that moment. The boy smiled and hugged him tightly, saying, "I like you better this way. You were always too brooding. Now you speak like a king. And clearly, we and our entire world need you this way if we are to survive what is coming."
"Your cousin is wiser than his years, Aerion," came the rasping voice of Brynden Rivers, drawing his attention back to him.
"You must embrace your heritage and the new powers you have gained beyond this world. For the enemy no longer sleeps, and seeing his plans threatened, the Great Other will throw all its forces against the living, especially after the appearance of that accursed flame that marked you."
"Aye. You're right; all the more reason I must take Bran beyond the Wall. It's too dangerous here," Aerion replied firmly, rising to his feet, still hugging his brother with one arm.
"No matter how powerful the spells guarding this place are, they won't protect you for long. I've seen a glimpse of the Great Other's power, and if it weren't for the Frenzy Flame, I wouldn't be standing here today. We must move south."
Taking a closer look at the old man's body, practically rooted to the roots, he shook his head slightly. "But I don't think we'll be able to separate you from that tree."
Brynden sighed slightly, then replied, "I accepted my fate long ago, and all I wanted was to train my heir and prepare him for what was to come. I thought I still had time. Events are gathering pace, and our enemy will unleash his full power."
The man's single red eye fixed on Aerion. "You will take them all south, Leaf and her kin as well... But give me a few days so I can impart the most important knowledge to the boy. He will need it in the coming war."
Aerion wanted to say they didn't have time but remembered that if his theory was true, the Greater Will would take him back to the Lands Between in no more than a few hours.
So he nodded, "Fine, I can agree to that. I will have to leave you anyway. There is a place I must go."
Bran looked at him worriedly. "Where must you go? And why? There's nothing left on this side of the Wall but Others and wights."
Aerion looked at him for a moment, considering how to respond. However, he had no real reason to hide the Lands Between from his family and allies.
Rather than making foolish excuses, especially in the future when his travels between the two worlds would likely be longer, he would tell the truth. It wouldn't change anything anyway, and they could help conceal his absence in the days to come.
"The place I must go is not in Westeros, nor anywhere in this world. Sit down, for this will be a long story," he said finally, sitting cross-legged, leaning back against the wall.
Bran and the Reed siblings sat across from him, and the others gathered around them. Even Bloodraven's eye gleamed with keen interest, and it was the most human emotion he had ever seen from the old man.
Aerion took a short breath and closed his eyes, recalling images of wonder and horror he had seen after his first death. "Let me tell you of a place where fallen leaves tell a story, where the great Elden Ring was once shattered, of a realm cursed by the gods, across the fog, the Lands Between."
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Lands Between
Aerion/Jon
Following Sellen's instructions, after receiving a scolding for disappearing from under her nose, Aerion took up rune farming, as the sorceress called it. She pointed him to three locations near the lake and the Murkwater River that flowed from it.
These were the Limgrave Tunnels, the Murkwater Catacombs, and the Murkwater Cave. Naturally, he acquired a number of runes and items, including the incredibly useful Roar Medallion. He defeated numerous enemies and two bosses, and in the latter, he encountered a man named Patches.
Honestly, he wanted to kill him, as he reminded him too much of scum like Littlefinger and Janos Slynt. And so he did. Jon Snow might have shown him mercy, but Aerion wasn't the same naive, honourable fool.
He knew something. These kinds of people had to be killed at the first opportunity, because in the future, they'd always stab you in the back, and always when you least expected it.
So, despite all his pleas, Patches lost his life. The same thing happened to Bloody Finger Nerijus, who, frankly, was the toughest opponent he'd encountered in the two days since returning to the Lands Between.
Fast and agile, his daggers had the ability to send slashes of red energy into the air, causing them to bleed from every orifice on his body upon impact. Literally, every orifice. It wasn't a pleasant feeling.
Honestly, if he could kill that arsehole again, he'd gladly do it. Moments after the fight, Yura arrived, but he was late, and he was disappointed because it was Bloody Finger he'd been hunting.
Furthermore, meeting the old warrior brought another benefit. He told him about a large rider dressed in black armour and a cloak who patrolled the nearby bridge at night on a black steed.
According to Yura, this was a member of the Night Cavalry, a group dedicated to hunting the Tarnished. It was led by a Fell Omen named Margit. And so this hunter became his prey. And that was where Aerion was heading at that moment.
He moved to the Gatefront Ruins of the Side of Grace, finding Godrick's soldiers' camp completely looted. Apparently, the looters had found the items he had left useful.
Three soldiers were wandering among the ruins, but he quickly dispatched them. Probably a patrol.
Without a second thought, he set off along the road southeast toward the bridge crossing the Murkwater River. He wasn't in a hurry, for he still had a while before dusk fell and the Night Cavalier would set out on his hunt.
He let Torrent trot slowly along while he practised his new spells on Godrick's soldiers along the road and a few riders he hadn't encountered before.
It was then that a voice reached his ears, at first barely audible, then growing into a louder call.
"Oi! You there! Could you help us out, cully?"
The voice sounded incredibly pitiful and forced Aerion to stop, but looking around, he couldn't see anything on either side of the road. The person calling him couldn't have been far away.
"You, yeah, you there! Stop pretending you can't see me."
The voice rang out again, and Jon, having roughly located the direction it came from, directed Torrent there. However, he still couldn't see anyone.
"Why won't anyone look me in the eye? I'm not that ugly."
The voice appeared much closer, but he still couldn't see anyone, as if the person were invisible, but why? So why was this person calling to him?
He led Torrent through some bushes, and suddenly his mount stopped, then stretched out one leg and lightly struck a small tree in front of him with a hoof. At the same moment, a cloud of smoke rose from the tree, obscuring it completely.
"Ow! What'd you go and do that for! Hm? Oh, yes, I remember. Some clod turned me into a tree. You were just breaking the spell, weren't you?"
Aerion refrained from firing a spell from his staff when he saw one of the demi-humans before him, but it was true that he looked unusually pitiful and seemed not only capable of speech but also non-aggressive, unlike his kin. He then jumped off Torrent's back.
"Thank you. The name's Boc. I was pushed out of the cave. Told not to come back, not ever. Then I ended up as a tree. Lucky you came along, really. Boc the seamster, at your service, Master."
"Hmh." Aerion cleared his throat awkwardly, caught off guard by the other's appearance, but then regained his composure. "Hello. I'm Aerion. Nice to meet you. Who turned you into a tree, if I may ask?"
The demi-human shook his head awkwardly. "Ah, it's truly my fault. We can all turn in to trees or stones, but Boc couldn't shake the spell."
He raised a pointed eyebrow at this answer and couldn't hide the small smile that spread across his lips. "You turned yourself into a tree?"
If that were possible, Boc suddenly looked even more haggard. "Yee-yes. All demi-humans can do it. But Boc can't control it well."
As he explained, Aerion remembered where he'd heard that name before, or rather, where he'd seen it. He summoned the Sewing Needle from his inventory.
Sewing Needle
A large sewing needle, curved like a fang. Boc the demi-human's prized possession.
"Isn't this yours?" he asked, lifting the needle and showing it to the little demi-human.
Just by Boc's reaction, whose long muzzle stretched into a shy smile, he knew the item belonged to him.
"Wait, is that what I think it is? You got it back for me? My sewing needle! What made you go and do a thing like that...? My mum was a seamstress...and that sewing kit was all I had to remember her by. I always wanted to be just like sweet old Mum. Then, I suppose I—I can't just curl up and die, can I?"
His voice was filled with emotion, and Aerion was sure the little creature was about to start crying, and he too felt his heart clench. He could perfectly understand Boc's feelings, wanting to have some memento of his mother himself.
"No, you can't," he replied, then patted Boc on the head. "And that wasn't a problem at all. I found it in the caves on the coast. I have no sewing skills whatsoever, so I'm giving it to you as its rightful owner."
"Thank you. You're very kind," Boc replied, to which he simply waved his hand.
"Don't worry. I'm glad I could help, but now I must bid you farewell. I now face a difficult opponent."
"Wait. Please, master. Allow me to serve you as your seamstress. I can't make anything from scratch, but... I'm happy to make adjustments to your garments."
The small demi-human, falling to his knees, spoke with such desperation that Aerion didn't have the heart to refuse him. For, like him once, Boc was simply searching for his place in the world and a purpose in life.
Aerion sighed, "Agreed. You can be my seamstress, but any adjustments will have to wait; I have a fight with the Night Cavalryman nearby," he agreed, glancing toward Erdtree, which was growing fainter, and the sky was slowly darkening.
"However, west of here, across the lake, there are church ruins. You can wait for me there," he added, pointing in the right direction.
"Night Cavalry? Here?" Bock gasped, terrified. "Forgive me, Master. But I'm not a good fighter. I know about the old church. It's called the Church of Elleh; travellers often hide there."
Aerion nodded. "Good. Go before it gets completely dark."
With these words, he mounted the patiently waiting Torrent. "Go, boy."
Having dealt with several Godrick soldiers sitting around a bonfire by the bridge, he stopped just before the bridge's entrance., taking the Academy Glintstone Staff in his left hand and summoning the Battle Hammer he had obtained earlier in Murkwater Catacombs in his right.
He swung the hammer several times with ease, though he was certain that before he first arrived in the Lands Between, he wouldn't have been able to lift or swing it with both hands. The weapon was incredibly heavy, made entirely of metal, and the head was shaped like a block of stone, tipped on one side with a foot-long spike.
The darkness around him grew darker, and he and Torrent waited patiently. Aerion also cast the Scholar's Armament spell on the Battle Hammer, which glowed with a turquoise light that enveloped the entire hammer like a coating.
Shortly afterward, he saw a black silhouette in the darkness approaching from the opposite side of the bridge. The figure, apparently seeing him in the hammer's light, stopped.
Then galloped towards him. Aerion heard a horse whinny and then urged Torrent on. "Forward, boy. Let's show who's the best rider and mount in these lands."
He aimed the tip of his staff at the Night Cavalryman and fired three Glintstone Pebbles one after another, finally releasing two Glintstone Arcs, which expanded to encompass the entire width of the bridge.
The attack, however, had no effect on the rider; the projectiles ricocheted off his armour, and the Glintstone Arcs aimed at the horse were simply shattered by the enemy with a slam of his black glaive.
That told Aerion everything he needed to know. This wasn't just any enemy. Night Cavalry was rightly infamous. However, he didn't have time to analyse further, as they were now only 20 metres (65 feet) apart.
He aimed his staff at his opponent once more and used his newest spell, learnt from the book given to him by Master Sellen, Crystal Barrage.
A stream of sharp crystals, the size of his hand, suddenly poured from the staff, striking both rider and horse. And although the cavalryman's armour took most of the brunt of the attack, his mount couldn't say the same.
The horse squealed in pain as the sharp crystals dug into its flesh. He rose to his hind legs and tried to turn, while his rider tried to control him.
But that was enough for Aerion. The bond between him and Torrent was so strong that they didn't need words to communicate. Right in front of the rider, Torrent leapt into the air, flying over both horse and rider, and he, leaning from the saddle, swung his hammer powerfully.
The hammer struck the Night Cavalryman squarely in the chest, sounding like a gong and sending the rider flying.
The impact was powerful enough to send the rider flying over 10 metres (32 feet) from his mount, sending him crashing hard to the ground, rolling even further. Jon dismounted, but instead of finishing him off, he sent the skeleton back to his equipment and instead summoned the Golden Beast Crest Shield.
Now, with a hammer in one hand and a shield in the other, he waited for his opponent to rise to his feet. He needed a challenge and experience fighting opponents stronger than him, and the Night Cavalryman had to be strong, for when he was back on his feet, he towered over Aerion by half, standing a good three metres (10 feet).
Armed in heavy black armour, an unnaturally flowing cape, and a deadly halberd, he seemed no less formidable than when mounted. There was a distinct dent in the armour, and the cavalryman's breathing was loud and raspy.
"Come on, omenfucker," Aerion shouted, and the man, clearly understanding him perfectly, lunged at him with silent fury.
He might have been considerably smaller than his opponent, but he had long since surpassed his physical limits. When the black halberd came down toward him, slicing through the air, he blocked it with his shield, and though his hand trembled slightly from the force of the blow, he didn't even take a step back.
Instead, he braced himself more firmly, and when the second blow came, he took it and then thrust, knocking the weapon away, momentarily leaving his opponent exposed. At the same moment, the spiked head of the hammer was already arcing toward the cavalryman's other side.
With the force of a charging bull, the foot-long spike pierced the weaker side of the armour and sank almost entirely through, simultaneously throwing the man off balance and throwing him to the ground.
To avoid being dragged, Aerion dropped his hammer. Then, grabbing his shield with both hands, he leaped at the rider and began striking the edge of his opponent's helmet with it. Once, twice, three times. Crushing the helmet and whatever was beneath it completely.
He adjusted it again to be sure, but it wasn't necessary, as the Night Cavalryman's body, like that of his mount, began to dissipate into golden particles of Grace.
Enemy Felled
Night's Cavalry
You receive 24 000 runes.
You receive Ash of War: Repeating Thrust
Ash of War: Repeating Thrust
This Ash of War grants an armament the following skill: "Repeating Thrust: Twist to build power, then unleash a flurry of thrusts."
Usable on armaments capable of thrusting (colossal weapons excepted).
It could be a useful skill, but he had to figure out how it was supposed to work.
The fight itself was also a bit anticlimactic. Honestly, he'd either overestimated his opponent or underestimated how powerful he'd become. Well, he was sure any of the demigods would have crushed him easily.
Without a second thought, he dismissed Torrent and moved to the Church of Elleh, Site of Grace, to finally use his accumulated runes. Fortunately, everything went according to plan, and he hadn't lost them in the process.
Upon arrival, he didn't find Boc there, but that was to be expected. The fight with the Night's Cavalryman ended quickly.
He sat down at the Site of Grace and opened his status and inventory. He also tried to summon Melina, but she hadn't responded yet.
First, he reviewed the items he'd acquired today, and besides the new Ash of War, four were probably the most useful.
Roar Medallion
A bronze medallion depicting a roaring giant. Enhances roars and breath attacks.
In ancient times, the giants were mortal enemies of the Erdtree. Their bellowing roars desolated nature, triggered avalanches, and whipped up storms of flame.
Reduvia
Jagged dagger with a distinctive curled blade. Carried by the noble servants of the Lord of Blood.
This dagger rips the flesh as it enters, inflicting blood loss with sickening efficacy. A proud testament to the success of its vicious design, this weapon is perpetually coated in blood.
Battle Hammer
Large iron great hammer designed for gladiatorial combat. Used by duelists who were exiled from the colosseum.
Weighty enough to crush armor and its wearer alike.
Banished Knight Engvall Ashes
Ashen remains in which spirits yet dwell. Use to summon the spirit of Engvall, the Banished Knight. One of the two knights dubbed the Wings of the Storm.
Despite his banishment, he rejected the invitation of the Grace-Given Lord, instead keeping watch over a masterless castle for many years, gaining renown as a hero of the fringes.
The weapon was quite an interesting addition, and he'd already used the hammer. Apparently, he'd also managed to assemble a duo of Banished Nights and would surely use them in the future. However, it was the amulet that was his greatest gain.
Aerion had already tested it in the catacombs. The Agheel Flame Incantation was even more powerful. The flames were hotter, more numerous, and used less focus. This would surely prove useful against many enemies.
He then glanced at his attributes, distributing them slightly differently this time. His primary goal should be to increase Mind to better protect himself from madness, but he couldn't do that at the expense of the rest. He had a tough nut to crack in the future.
Name: Aerion Sand
Title: Tarnished of no renown
Level: 76 → 83
Runes : 6628
Runes required to level up: 20710
Focus Points: 350/350
Attributes:
Vigor: 24 (+1 from Erdtree's Favor)
Mind: 21 → 24
Endurance: 25 (+1 from Erdtree's Favor)
Strength: 26
Dexterity: 26
Intelligence: 21 → 23
Faith: 36 (+10 from EotG, +5 from Marked by Flame)
Arcane: 23 → 25
Resistance:
Poison - 24%
Scarlet Rot- 24%
Madness - 6% → 9% ( -15 from Marked by Flame)
Sleep - 21% → 24%
Blood Loss - 25%
Frostbite - 75% (+50 from Song of Ice & Fire)
Death Blight - 23% → 25%
Damage negation:
Holy - 23% → 25%
Fire - 75% (+50% from Song of Ice & Fire)
Lightning - 36%
Magic - 21% → 23%
Things were looking better and better. He still had a long way to go before he could challenge the demigods. While waiting for Boc, he could think about what to do next.
"Wait," he muttered to himself. "Didn't both Kale and Sellen mention some wolf howling in the Mistwood Ruins, and Yura suggested I might encounter an unexpected wolf ally there? That's a good place to start, isn't it? After all, what's the harm?"