21. Talk

Stannon walked through Winterfell's courtyard, thinking about the past four years. He remembered how, at seven years old, he had arrived at Winterfell. Robb and Jon were six at the time, and he had hoped they would all become very close. Robb had been quick to welcome him, and they often trained together or played games. Arya, full of energy and mischief, treated him like an older brother, always asking him to teach her something new.

Sansa was more reserved, but over time, she too warmed up to him. He made an effort to praise her singing and show interest in her embroidery, which no one else their age seemed to do.

But Jon... Jon was different. Even though they were close in age, Jon kept his distance. He was polite but never truly friendly, always acting formal. Stannon had tried everything he could —but Jon never opened up.

At first, Stannon thought it might just be Jon's shy nature. Being a bastard probably made him careful around others. But as the years went by, it became clear that something else was going on. Jon didn't just avoid deep conversations; he avoided spending time with Stannon altogether.

'Maybe he doesn't like me,' Stannon thought to himself, kicking a pebble across the yard. He couldn't figure out why. Did Jon see him as competition? Or did he just not care about becoming friends? Stannon felt frustrated.

In novels and fanfictions he had read, it always seemed so easy for the main characters to make everyone like them. Yet here he was, struggling to get along with a ten-year-old.

Still, Stannon wasn't ready to give up. Over the past year, he had started sparring with Jon regularly, hoping to break the ice. It had worked a little—Jon seemed more comfortable during their matches and would occasionally smile or nod after a good fight. But the distance between them hadn't completely gone away.

Stannon paused near the training yard, watching a group of recruits practice with their swords. He decided it was time to try something different. After sparring with Jon later that evening, he thought it would be good if they share a a bottle of wine.

'Maybe that wine will help me to understand what the real problem is,' Stannon thought with a small smile. If it didn't, at least he would know he had tried his best.

With a plan in mind, Stannon turned and walked back toward the castle. The cold wind tugged at his cloak, but he didn't care. All he could think about was the evening ahead and whether this time, Jon might finally open up.

That evening came quickly. Stannon walked to the training grounds, finding Jon already there, practicing with his sword.

"My prince," Jon greeted, standing straight and formal, like always.

"Jon," Stannon replied with a small nod and smile. Without much talking, they started their usual sparring session.

The sparring ended sooner than Stannon expected, leaving them both covered in sweat. Jon gave a short bow, and Stannon returned it before heading back to his room. After a quick shower, he grabbed the bottle of wine he'd taken earlier and two goblets, determined to get some answers tonight.

At Jon's door, Stannon hesitated for a moment before knocking.

"Come in," came Jon's voice from inside.

Stannon pushed the door open to see Jon sitting on his small bed, sharpening his sword. Jon immediately stood when he saw Stannon.

"My prince," Jon said, bowing.

"Can I come in?" Stannon asked casually, still standing in the hallway, though his tone made it clear he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Jon blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. "Of course, my prince."

Stannon walked in, set the bottle and goblets on the small table, and pulled out the cork. Jon watched him with confusion.

"Let's have a drink," Stannon said as he poured wine into the goblets.

Jon's brow furrowed. "My prince, is this... appropriate? Someone of your status drinking with me?"

"Nonsense," Stannon said with a wave of his hand. He handed Jon a goblet and kept one for himself.

Jon hesitated, looking unsure, but eventually took the goblet. They both drank in silence, the air between them feeling heavy and awkward.

'Well, this is awkward,' Stannon thought. He decided that it was the time to break the ice.

"Jon, can I ask you something?"

Jon, who had been staring into his wine, looked up. "Of course, my prince."

"Why do you hate me?" Stannon asked bluntly.

Jon froze, his eyes wide with shock. He almost choked on his wine, coughing as he stared at Stannon. "What? I don't hate you. It's not like that," he said quickly, though his face said otherwise.

Stannon didn't look convinced. "Don't lie to me, Jon. You barely talk to me, and you always keep your distance. Why? What's the reason? Just tell me."

Jon's grip on his goblet tightened, and he looked down, avoiding Stannon's gaze. "It's nothing, my prince. Truly," he muttered.

Stannon leaned forward. "If you won't tell me, then I command you as your prince to tell me the truth."

Jon let out a heavy sigh and took another long drink, emptying his goblet before speaking. "Fine," he said quietly. "If you insist."

For a moment, Jon said nothing, staring at the empty goblet in his hands. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and heavy.

"I don't hate you," Jon said. "I never have. It's just... you wouldn't understand what it's like to be me. To be a bastard."

Stannon frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jon's jaw tightened. "All my life, I've been treated like I don't belong. People look at me differently, like I'm something to be ashamed of. Even here, in Winterfell, I'm reminded every day that I'm not truly a Stark. I'm not good enough to be one of them, but I'm too close to be anything else."

He paused, his voice growing softer. "I've spent my whole life trying to prove myself, trying to earn their approval. But no matter what I do, it's never enough. And then you came."

"Me?" Stannon asked, surprised.

Jon nodded. "You arrived, and everyone loved you right away. Father loves you. Lady Catelyn likes you, even though she barely looks at me. Robb, Sansa, Arya—they all like you without question. And you didn't have to do anything to earn it."

Jon's eyes met Stannon's then, filled with frustration and sadness. "Do you know how hard that is to watch? To see you get everything I've ever wanted without even trying?"

Stannon sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to say.

"I don't hate you," Jon continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "I envy you. And I hate myself for feeling like this. But I can't help it."

The room fell silent again, Jon's words hanging heavy in the air. Stannon finally broke the quiet.

"Jon," he said softly, "I didn't know you felt this way. I never meant to make you feel like this."

Jon shook his head. "It's not your fault, my prince. You didn't do anything wrong. You're just... you. And that's enough for everyone to love you."

Stannon set his goblet down and leaned forward. "Jon, listen to me. You're not wrong. I didn't earn anything; I just got lucky. But that doesn't mean you're less important or less deserving. You're one of the strongest, most bravest and mature kid I know. And I admire you for that."

Jon looked at him, startled. "You do?"

"Yes," Stannon said firmly. "And for what it's worth, I want us to be friends...more than that I want us to be brothers just like me, Robb and Bran."

Stannon leaned back in his chair, watching Jon's reaction carefully. Jon stared at him, his mouth slightly open, clearly surprised by what Stannon had said. The disbelief on Jon's face made Stannon's chest tighten.

"Jon," Stannon said gently but firmly, "I'm serious. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. I want us to be brothers—not just in name, but for real."

Jon stayed silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to figure out if Stannon was being honest. Finally, he let out a short, dry laugh and shook his head. "My prince, I don't know what you want from me. I'm a bastard. That's all I'll ever be. You don't need me as a brother, and I—"

"Stop," Stannon interrupted, leaning forward. "Just stop, Jon. You're not just a bastard. That word doesn't define you, no matter what anyone says. You're a Stark in every way that matters, and anyone who can't see that is wrong. Including you."

Jon frowned, his grip tightening on the empty goblet in his hands. "That's easy for you to say. You're a prince. You've got everything. When people look at you, they see someone important. When they look at me, they see nothing. I don't belong anywhere."

"You belong here," Stannon said firmly. "You belong with your family—with the people who care about you. You belong with me."

Jon's head snapped up.,"Why? Why do you care so much? You don't need me. You've got Robb, Arya, Sansa. You've got Father and Lady Catelyn. You already have everything. So why?"

Stannon sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I see you, Jon. I see how hard you work every day, how you push yourself more than anyone else. I see the way you're always trying to prove something, and it makes me angry—not at you, but at everyone who made you feel like you're not enough."

Jon's lips parted slightly, but he stayed quiet, staring at Stannon with an intensity that made him pause.

"And more than that," Stannon continued, "you're my family. Blood doesn't matter—you're part of this family."

Jon let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping a little. He looked down at the goblet in his hands, turning it over slowly. "You make it sound so easy, my prince" he said quietly.

"It is easy," Stannon replied. "You don't have to prove anything to me, Jon."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet, except for the soft sound of the fire in the fireplace. Finally, Jon spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No one's ever said that to me before," he admitted. "Not like this. Not even Father."

Stannon's chest ached at the pain in Jon's words. He reached out and placed a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Well, I'm saying it now. And I'll keep saying it until you believe it."

Jon looked up, his gray eyes filled with something Stannon couldn't quite place—maybe hope, maybe gratitude. Or both.

"I don't know if I can believe it," Jon said softly. "But… I'll try."

A small smile tugged at Stannon's lips. "That's all I ask."

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them fading. Stannon poured them more wine, and this time, Jon took it without hesitation.

"I have to admit," Jon said after a few sips, a faint smile on his face, "I didn't expect this when you knocked on my door tonight."

Stannon chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "To be honest, neither did I. But I'm glad I did. I've wanted to talk to you like this for a long time."

Jon nodded thoughtfully. "So have I. I just didn't know how."

"Well, now you do," Stannon said, raising his goblet in a toast. "To new beginnings."

Jon hesitated for a moment, then raised his goblet as well, a small but genuine smile on his face. "To new beginnings."

They clinked their goblets, and for the first time, Stannon felt like they were finally on the same page. They talked for some time after that—about sparring, their siblings, their hopes for the future.

And when Stannon finally left Jon's room, his heart felt lighter. The wall between them had finally started to crumble.

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Guys from the poll of ideas I had taken in the past chapter, many readers had supported the ability of Time Manipulation. It had won with a majority and thus I have decided to use in my coming Marvel Fanfiction.

But I still have a few things on which I need your opinions regarding the ability. Please vote if possible.

1) No system, no information panel, just pure time manipulation ability. Mc would have to find by himself what the sub abilities are by his own study. Nothing would be given to him.

2) An Information panel giving the idea of the ability and sub abilities of time manipulation.

For eg.

[information panel]

Ability: Time Manipulation

Level: 1

Exp: (1/100)

Sub Abilities:

••Time Acceleration Level 1

Increase the speed of time by 2x. Can be applied to user's own body or the surroundings.

Radius: 1 metre

(I am using metres and kilometres since it ts almost worldwide used)

Cooldown: 1 minute

••Time Deceleration Level 1

Decrease the speed of time by 2x.

Radius: 1 metre

Cooldown: 1 minute

••Time Absorption Level 1

Can absorb a fraction of the target's lifespan (1 day per activation).

Only works on living beings with lesser lifespan than the user and through direct physical contact.

This is just a sample of Level 1 of Time Manipulation and exp can be earned through training the abilities. Also once the ability is upgraded to the next level, say level 2, the new sub abilities would appear by themselves on the information panel and the MC doesn't have to got through any research as to find what they would be.

In this situation though you have to increase the level of all sub abilities by yourself as upgrading the time manipulation ability wouldn't upgrade the sub abilities to next level.

Also please give suggestions and it may be in the regards of anything like adding new ability or changing the radius, cooldown, etc.

3) The same panel as above but having a system with quests, rewards, penalties and inventory.

The user has the freedom whether to accept or reject the quests. The quests will help in earning rewards exp points to fasten the growth of time manipulation. Rewards will also include stuff beneficial for the user to increase his physique or any weapon related to time manipulation ability, etc, etc

Training can still increase the exp. Once the time manipulation is upgraded to level 2 all the other sub abilities will automatically be upgraded to the next level.

(Man system MCs have it easy)

4) A new system with the same panel as above called as plot system, though there will be no penalties but rewards will be given according to the changes made to the plot. It will also help you in earning exp the more changes you cause to the plot. Inventory is still there.

Here are all the options. Please if you have anything new in mind, don't hesitate to comment here.

Also, I am not typing this all here to increase the word count of the chapter. The word count of chapter is already more than 2000 words excluding all this.

Thank you.

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