The eyes of a young man fluttered open to stare at a stone ceiling, their colour a piercing dark grey that looked as if they could reveal the secrets of all they looked at.
His luscious dark-brown locks laid flat against the pillow he laid on, a stoic, solemn expression on his face as he observed the room around him.
Despite the fact that his room at Winterfell was familiar to him, he couldn't help but grimace as memories of another time flashed through his mind.
Memories of watching a world where he was no more than the same as the characters of the novels he liked to read from time to time.
Memories of reading of a life where he was the son of a Targaryen Prince and a woman who he thought was his aunt for most of his life.
Memories of watching him copulating with his aunt, something that brought curiosity to his mind and not disgust like he expected.
He could also remember times where he enjoyed the company of his family, which they shared, and how he swore to never sleep with a woman for fear of siring a bastard.
'A foolish notion,' Jon scoffed, looking down at the woman that was struggling to breathe as his cock was halfway down her throat.
He could understand why his counterpart did not want to bring a bastard into this world to suffer as he did, but as he watched Ros bob her head with an eager look, he could not find himself agreeing with his thoughts.
Grabbing onto her hair, she moaned as he slowly pulled her off, his cock popping free with a pop as she smiled.
"Well, well~I didn't quite expect you to wake up this early," Ros spoke with a sultry smile as she stuck her tongue out, Jon stifling his hiss as she softly licked the underside of his tip.
A squeal escaped her lips as Jon pulled her up to him, devouring her lips with a hunger-filled kiss that made her moan into his mouth.
Rolling and pinning her down beneath me, Ros' legs were splayed to the side as he aimed and thrust forward, biting her bottom lip with a grin as she gasped.
Blood dripped into his mouth as he let go, pulling back and watching her moan before she squealed as he gave a harsh thrust forward.
Clamping his right hand over her mouth while pinning her hands above her head with his left, he relished the way her eyes dilated and her whimpers as he began to move.
Instead of pounding away, he took it slow, leaning down and giving a low chuckle into her ear as he felt her trying to hump against him.
"Stop," he ordered and she stopped, but he gave a soft laugh as he felt her teeth grazing his palm with a half-hearted nip. "You'd bite me now? After you begged for it?"
As she just gave a defiant stare back while her cunt fluttered around his cock at his commanding tone, another memory couldn't help but come forward.
It was a memory of him laying for the first time with a Wildling woman with the same shade of fiery auburn hair like Ros, her personality a stark contrast to the submissive woman he was currently in.
Yet, he pushed the memories away just as quick and bit down on Ros' shoulder while thrusting forward at the same time. His canines pierced her skin and red blood dripped into his mouth, making Jon groan as Ros' ecstatic squeals were muffled by his hand.
He could feel her pulse racing as she arched beneath him, her muffled cries making him speed up as each thrust was accompanied by another squeal.
Soon, she began to convulse in earnest, her thighs trembling as her cunt milked him with desperate spasms. She dragged her nails across his back and Jon ignored the pain as he wondered if Maester Luwin would notice them.
Who was he kidding? The old fart would definitely notice them.
Letting go of her shoulder with a wet sound, licking the wound in earnest, Jon kept his palm on her mouth as she shuddered. "Look at me, whore," he growled, her glassy eyes trying its best to focus on him.
He then smirked as his hand slid from her mouth down to her throat, not squeezing but just resting there like a promise. He could feel her plea as her lips parted, but no sound came up.
"Use your words," he murmured, rolling his hips and making her whimper as she spoke in a raspy tone.
"Fuck me like you mean it, bastard."
"You know I hate that word, Ros," he whispered and felt her tense. The next moment, her head fell back and she gasped as he slammed into her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
As he thrust into her over and over, letting the headboard strike the wall with a steady tempo, he watched her claw at the arm of the hand around her throat.
Both of them knew that he would let go with a simple word, but as his grip tightened and he sat up slightly, he could only chuckle at Ros' desperate look when he let go and pushed her ankles up to the sides of her head.
"Make a noise and you will receive no payment from me," he whispered, waiting until she nodded before he went to down. Ros did her best to muffle her squeals as the sounds of her wet cunt tried their best to do the job instead.
It was after minutes of pleasure and her cunt clamping around him like a vice that he gave one final hard thrust, stilling inside of her as he felt his cum flowing out.
Taking slow breaths as he pulled out, Jon chuckled as Ros collapsed boneless on the bed, the woman letting out a tired moan as he smacked her ass.
"Theon will be waking in a few, Best get your arse to him," he spoke, dropping a few silver stags into her waiting hand while lying down on his bed.
He watched as she slowly rose from the bed, wincing with every step while glaring at him at the blood on her shoulder.
"How do I explain this?"
"Tell him he was drunk," he replied with a smirk, chuckling as she rolled her eyes before struggling in making her way to the door. Jon admired the sight of her round behind as she paused against the door, listening for any footsteps before doing her best to leave as swiftly as possible.
At that moment, the soft patter of claws against wood drew his attention and he reached to the side of his bed, raising an eyebrow at the white direwolf pup he picked up.
"Hid under the dresser again?" he asked, shaking his head when the direwolf pup just plopped down beside him and went to sleep. He had just gotten it earlier yesterday along with the five others that his 'trueborn' siblings had gotten.
In all honesty, Ghost, his pup, was the smallest out of the litter, but he was also the silent and ruthless one.
Case in point: the pup had torn out the throat of one of the hounds that kept barking at him just last night and he had to scurry out of there before someone decided to make a pelt out of him.
He was touched by the gesture given that not anyone or anything would publicly take his side in this place, but he was also very worried for the fact that his Lord Father might send one of the guards to take Ghost away.
That was also the reason he took Ros from a drunk Theon and to his room, something he would never ever do in the open.
'Ah, but she was a fine lay,' he thought with a smirk, rubbing his lips while staring at the droplets of blood on the pillow.
He could taste the rich ichor and wanted nothing more than to take another bite, but unfortunately, his 'unique' tastes could result in vicious rumours of himself circling around.
"The bastard of Lord Stark drinks blood. He's a demon!" he can just hear the Septa shouting at the top of her lungs. Her voice was irritating and so was her presence, but unfortunately, he was left to deal with her since she is an honoured member of his father's staff.
That was another change in his life compared to the one his counterpart had. Unlike his counterparts in the book and series, he was the actual half-blood bastard son of his Lord Father Eddard Stark.
The man had taken him to see his mother on his fourteenth nameday and he was greeted by the woman, who unfortunately passed from the Summer Fever not too long ago.
The only thing he had to remember her from were two items, one being the necklace he kept around his neck at all times.
The second was one he looked at as he reached over, picking up the small journal on the bedside table to his side.
He never wanted to open it other than the one time he did last night before he coerced Ros into sleeping with him, which might explain as to why he had these new memories. Opening the book, his gaze moved to the first sentence and he began to read.
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If you are reading this, my sweet youngling, then you have experienced the shift in personality that comes with your awakening.
Before you ask, allow me to explain. You are the last of the Blackfyre line. It is a name my grandmother had relinquished on her deathbed as do us all to the day that we die.
The reason for us doing so is because of our 'curse' as a family of descendants from a bastard given to us by the gods above.
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'Wait, why didn't I read this before?' Jon thought with wide eyes as he sat up. The handwriting was neat as if each letter was pressed into the page with care.
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Let me explain that better. We are not cursed as the smallfolk mean it with deformities or madness. No, ours is a legacy curse, passed not through blood alone but through memory.
Once in a generation, sometimes less, a child of our line awakens. You will feel a thirst for blood and a burst of strength that comes whenever you satiate that thirst.
That may be unnatural to others, but it is completely natural for you. You can almost say that it is a gift from the Dark One that had given us said gift.
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Jon's gaze flicked to the faint stains on the pillow, the sweet scent intoxicating before he forced himself to look back down at the page.
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Do not mistake this for mindless savagery. The thirst is meant to answer you, not rule you.
It sharpens the body, steadies the mind and awakens what lies dormant in your mind. Madness only comes to those who indulge without restraint.
You will feel stronger after feeding, your senses will sharpen and the world may seem easier to grasp, but see this as nothing more than adaptation.
Know only this, my son. The Dark One is not evil nor is it kind. It is ancient and awards only those who survive, not those who beg. His name has been lost to time, but my grandmother told me stories of him being called by the title 'Vlad The Impaler'.
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"Vlad the Impaler? Doesn't sound like one of the gods I knew," There were the Old Gods and the Seven and then he remembered the gods of Essos. He couldn't recall an Impaler amongst their ranks, but perhaps he may find out in time.
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You will notice changes as you grow, such as your wounds closing faster and your body enduring what should break it. The grip of fear will begin to fade as desire and hunger takes its place, but I give you one warning, Jon.
Learn restraint.
Those who fed carelessly draw attention and those that did, died. You were hidden for a reason as your father's blood anchors you as had you been raised with me or elsewhere, you would have burned too brightly and too quickly.
As you might expect, Jon, you will be drawn to moments of conflict where blood is already being spilled during war. That is natural as the gift thrives where death walks openly.
However, do not seek slaughter and let it come to you.
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"It reminds me of the stories I heard of House Bolton," Jon murmured out loud, remembering the tales and rumours he has heard of Lord Bolton being a blood-sucking leech.
Then again, that might mean something else so he might just be reaching.
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You may be wondering why I waited until ink and paper were all I could leave behind. That is because if you are reaching this, then you have already crossed the threshold and no warning could have softened it.
However, do not take the necklace around your neck for too long. It dampens the worst of the hunger and is an artifact in my family that allows you to walk in the sun.
Jon, I could not be the mother that you needed to be so I can only ask that you be the son any mother would be proud of. Whether that is taking the name Blackfyre or simply being Jon Snow, I do not care as long as you are living for yourself and no one else.
Until we meet again in a next life, my sweet Jonathan Vladimir Blackfyre
Walburga 'Wylla' Blackfyre
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Jon sat back as the journal rested heavily in his hands, his head turning to Ghost whose red eyes peered back at him.
"Looks like we're both not what we seem, Ghost,"he murmured and smiled as the pup let out a soft huff. Tearing out the page with the note, he read it a few more times before standing up and tossing it into the fireplace.
He didn't know if there was anything that could be used against him, but he'd rather not risk it.
Looking back at the journal, he narrowed his eyes at the words that appeared on the next blank page.
"Blood Magic and Life Essence," he muttered, but quickly snapped the book shut when a knock came from the door. Easily putting the journal in his cloak on the bed, he stood up as the door opened.
"Jon," his father greeted as he opened the door, the man's grey eyes meeting his while his black hair was tied into a low ponytail.
"Lord Father," Jon greeted with a bow, noticing the sigh his father let out as he patted his shoulder.
"When it is just us two, Father is fine."
"Apologies, but I'd rather not have the Lady Stark punish me again for not using the correct titles," he replied with a stoic tone, but his father caught the glance to his door as the man frowned.
"I see. You missed the yard this morning. Robb was looking for you."
"I was...preoccupied," he replied, putting on a tunic shirt while recalling the sweet taste of Ros' nectar on his lips and the sensation of his flesh inside of her.
"With what exactly?" his father asked, but as Jon turned, he could only give a smirk as he saw the man's knowing stare.
"Seems that you already know."
"You thought that Theon could sneak a whore in without my knowing?"
"Not particularly. I'm more surprised you figured out that I also slept with her."
"I never said I knew of that," his father replied and he paused in his tracks, his cloak halfway on as he turned to see his father's smug gaze.
"Well played."
"You are decades too young to try and play the games of the south with me, my boy. Now, come. Walk with me."
"To where?"
"Training. After all, you missed yours and Ser Rodrik is waiting for you," his father replied, the man smirking as Jon let out a soft sigh before following after him.
It appears that he still has his own problems to deal with, after all.
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He could feel it.
It was a subtle shift in the area just south of the wall, near Winterfell? No, it was in Winterfell.
It was hard to miss the awakening of a blood one as he had hunted many of them years ago when he was still a bastard lord.
However, this one felt different. It felt like a Blood One, but at the same time, it also felt like the cold wolves of Winterfell and the olden spirits that danced with the forests and the rivers.
'Further investigation is required,' the pale, corpse-like man moulded to the giant heart tree thought, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as hundreds of ravens atop the tree awakened.
The child-like spirits of the trees around said tree paused as the ravens took off as one, spread out and making their way to see this Blood One with their own eyes.
A/N: This is less of a self-insert and more of an AU Jon Snow with memories of a life where he watched the show and read the book.
Of course, he's not going to remember every little detail, but just slightly enough to have an edge. Of course, there's also the Blackfyre-Dracula angle I added.
Also, I'm going back to my roots and this is not on Patreon. This is a pure FF.net/ AO3/ QQ/ Webnovel exclusive, meaning every Sunday, this is going to get posted on those sites AND I'll be reading reviews.
As always, read, enjoy, review and until the next one...
Ba-Bye~!