A Multiversal Journey (GOT/ASOIAF)

Words - 1511

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The first thing I see after opening my eyes is an unfamiliar ceiling—gray stone, cold and foreboding, lit faintly by the morning sun spilling through the window. I take a deep breath and feel the softness of fur blankets draped over me, their warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the northern air brushing against my face.

[Bedroom].

Then, like a tide rushing in, came the flood of information about my powers. And let me say this outright—I'm a god. A small one, maybe, but here, in Westeros, I am God.

I have a pocket dimension with infinite resources. I possess multiversal scientific knowledge that could leave the Maesters of the Citadel weeping. A spaceship capable of obliterating solar systems sits in my mental inventory, alongside a reality manipulation device that could reshape the very fabric of existence. Immortality? Check, thanks to the Essence of Archmage. Resurrection? Handled by the Essence of Home. And my Omni-field? Constantly protecting me from anything foolish enough to try and kill me.

Then the memories of this life emerged. I am Alaric Noir, heir to House Noir. I am four name days old, and my house rules from Castle Wraithstone, overseeing the Stony Shore and the surrounding rocky lands.

[MC]

[Castle]

[House symbol]

My father, Aldrich Noir, whose face I hadn't seen, was killed seven months before I was born, when Ironborn pirates raided our villages. His death left my mother, Lady Sereyna Mormont, broken hearted, she passed away on the birthing bed.

Before I could delve deeper into my memories, the heavy door to my chamber creaked open.

"Are you up already, my Lord?"

Her voice was melodic, warm. I turned my head to see her—my maid, whom this body considered mother. Sereyna. She was stunning, an exact replica of Angelina Jolie, and that resemblance alone made my mind think, 'He certainly had great taste.' Clearly, —that being who sent me here—had a wicked sense of humor but thanks for the gift anyway.

[Sereyna Pic]

Sereyna walked into the room, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, her green eyes twinkling as she smiled at me. "Since my Lord is awake, Sarah, be a dear and get him ready for the dining hall."

[Future Sarah]

A young maid, no older than ten name days, nodded quickly. "Yes, my lady," she said, hurrying over to help me out of bed.

I grimaced inwardly. Being served by a child felt… uncomfortable. But I reminded myself that this was Westeros. Life here was harsh, and children grew up fast. Still, I made a mental note to treat Sarah kindly.

After being dressed in warm woolen clothes, I followed Sarah down the cold stone corridors of Wraithstone. The air smelled faintly of salt, stone, and the faint musk of wood smoke. When we arrived at the dining hall, Sereyna had me get settled on the table.

The spread was modest: soup, bread, and roasted goose, accompanied by ale and water. Three maids stood quietly by the walls, ready to serve.

"Good morning, my Lord" my mother greeted me warmly, gesturing for me to take the seat beside her.

"Good morning, Maa," I replied, slipping into the formal tone of a four-year-old noble heir.

She smiled at me as she broke a piece of bread and dipped it into her soup. "I spoke to Ser Patrik, our Master of Arms, about your insistence on training. As I expected, he agrees with me. You're too young for anything beyond light exercises. You'll have to wait another year before starting any formal training."

"But—" I started, only to be cut off by her raised hand.

"My Lord, Alaric. You promised me you'd wait if I spoke to him. Do not make me regret giving you even that much."

I slumped back in my chair, pouting slightly. "Yes, Maa."

"Good," she said firmly, though her eyes softened as she reached over to ruffle my hair. "You should enjoy your childhood while you can, my Lord. Let Master Edward worry about the burdens of ruling for now. And if I had my way, you would never have to pick up a sword at all."

Her voice wavered slightly, and for a moment, I saw the weight she carried. The loss of my father, which had made me come under the radar of ambitious people as well as the constant threat of Ironborn raids who pillaged our villages—it all made her shoulders heavy with worry.

The rest of breakfast passed quietly, with Sereyna occasionally asking me questions about how I slept or whether I liked the soup. I answered politely, still adjusting to the dynamics of this new world.

After breakfast, Sereyna stood up, gave me a small smile. "Sarah will take you back to your room. I have matters to attend to, but I'll see you again at supper."

"Yes, Maa," I said obediently, watching as she left the hall, her maids following closely behind.

---

Back in my chamber, I lay on my bed, processing everything I had learned so far.

Our lands were rocky and infertile, with only small patches of arable land scattered among the harsh terrain. This limited our ability to grow crops, though we managed to sustain ourselves with hardy grains and livestock. Fishing and whaling were major sources of food and income, as was quarrying stone to sell for castle construction.

Salt production was another industry, though our most lucrative trade came from shipbuilding. House Noir's ships were renowned for their durability and craftsmanship, a necessity given the constant threat of Ironborn raids.

Then there were the "Ravens," the soldiers of House Noir. Each male of fighting age in our lands received basic military training to defend against raiders, but the elite Ravens were a different breed entirely. They were trained to be emotionless, loyal, and deadly, earning a fearsome reputation in the North and beyond. It was said that a single Raven would not fall until he had taken the lives of at least ten enemies—a testament to their skill and ferocity.

Despite these strengths, life in our lands was harsh. Winters were brutal, and food shortages were a constant concern. Much of our income from trade went toward buying surplus grain from the Reach, spices from Dorne, and fruits from the Summer Isles. We weren't poor, but luxuries were rare. For most of our people, a good meal and a cask of ale were the height of indulgence.

---

Later that afternoon, as I sat by the fire in my chamber, Sarah entered with a tray of tea. She placed it on the small table beside me and hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"My lord… may I ask you something?"

I looked up at her, surprised by her nervous tone. "Of course, Sarah. What is it?"

"Do you… do you think the Ironborn will attack again?"

Her question caught me off guard. She was just a child, yet her voice carried the weight of someone who had seen far too much for her age.

I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Finally, I said, "They might. But if they do, we'll be ready for them. My mother and Ser Patrik will make sure of that."

Sarah nodded slowly, though her expression remained troubled. "My brother… he was taken by them last year. They raided our village and—" Her voice broke, and she quickly wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, my lord. I shouldn't have—"

"It's all right, Sarah," I said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I promise, one day, we'll make the Ironborn pay for everything they've done."

Her eyes widened slightly at my words, and for a moment, I saw a spark of hope in her gaze. She bowed her head quickly and excused herself, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

---

As the day wore on, I found myself staring out the window at the gray sea beyond the castle walls. The waves crashed against the rocky shore, a constant reminder of the harshness of life here.

I thought of my powers, my knowledge, and the opportunities before me. I may have been born into a harsh and unforgiving world, but I had the means to change my fate—and the fate of those around me.

Though they have to be related to me or I won't make extra efforts to make everyone happy.

"I will make House Noir the strongest in the North," I murmured to myself."No, you Idiot, you know perfectly what you want. World domination. HAHAHAHAHA.

Even if it's just for you to destroy in your hands, you still want everything under your control, like a Lego set."

For now, though, I was a four-year-old boy. There was time to plan, to grow, and to prepare for the challenges ahead.

One step at a time.

-------------This is the dividing line between insanity and the protagonist's brain.-----------

Author here~ Just wanted to let you know that I fell very happy 😁 when people respond. It's just like you people are talking to me, so do comment and do correct my spelling mistakes as English is my second language.