No Games

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Nor do I own Game of Thrones.

Rated M simply because it's Game of Thrones, duh.

"Speech"
"Thoughts" or emphasis if inside a sentence.
[Foreign Language]

Chapter 1: The Random Factor

The forest's latest coating of frost brought with it an air of stillness, the very trees themselves hushed into silence. Stepping silently among the rocks and tree covered hills, a lanky figure in a heavy coat weaved through the woods. Stopping here and there, they would search, whether it be to pluck a plant or root around in the dirt.

Strong, grubby fingers withdrew from the soil, pulling out a sizeable truffle. They weren't what he was here for, but he was of an open mind whenever he went out. Luwin had sent him for medicinals, but that didn't mean he wouldn't grab things up for the kitchen as well. That was what he did in his role as woodsman.

Shoving the truffle into the bulging bag at his side, already stuffed with all manner of cold-living plants that the Maester asked of him and many that he hadn't, he shouldered the pack, the dangling trio of pheasant swinging to and fro.

Breathing deeply the cold, wet air…relishing in the presence of nature…he stood and brushed the light frost and loam from his knees.

Not a bad haul, all in all.

Sniffing the air again, he picking up only the scents of the cold and damp of the forest and recently upturned earth, he started back. Two hour's fast walk and he would make it back…just after dark by his educated guess.

The sun had set by at least an hour as he came into sight of Winterfell. He could see a few torches lit on the walls, but he could make it all out with ease even if the night weren't so bright out.

Striding through the open stone arch, he made off to the side for Luwin's workshop.

He shared quarters with the old Maester. It seemed appropriate given how the aged man had looked after him in his early years in this place. He'd grown to see him as a grandfatherly friend of sorts, almost like old man Sarutobi. And while he worked as woodsman to the Stark family, he also worked as Maester Luwin's aide, providing ingredients whenever he needed them. Theirs was a stone building built onto the courtyard of Winterfell. It was built this way so that the Maester could work his apothecary without disturbing the nobility. It was actually a workshop with bedroom adjacent, with a small room at the door to prevent the temperature and elements from ruining his work.

But, since Naruto was such a short sleeper, a few hours, really, he didn't need a room of his own, just requiring a hammock in the main room with all the drying plants. By the morning, the hammock would be long stowed out of the way of Luwin and he would be out and about.

Luwin must've only just been getting ready to settle in for the night. The fire was recently stoked, light dancing around the room, and he was already putting up a few battered tomes when the antechamber's door opened and his young aid stepped in. Neck craning around, "There you are, lad," he greeted warmly, worn face breaking into a smile. "I was beginning to think you'd make a night of it in the woods again." It wouldn't have been the first time. Often, when he went and patrolled the forests of the North, he'd be out for a week or more. This had been his eighth day, so it was more or less expected that he was due. If not by the end of one day then the next.

Chuckling, "I'm just a little late, old man," he replied cheerily. A title of endearment. Those he gave were earned. There was no ill-meaning in it and Luwin knew this. It was simply how the young man was, respectfully casual, and knowing this was why he tolerated it.

"A good trip, was it?"

"Mhm." Walking up to the aged healer, he shrugged off his pack and dropped it on the Maester's cleared work table. "I was on the western edges. I couldn't find any Mountain's Frost, but I wasn't expecting it there. I'll likely find a fair amount when I head up towards The Wall." Opening the bag, he started unloading its contents on the table, separating things here and there. Those to go to the kitchen would be put back into the bag and taken there forthwith.

Luwin nodded. "I should be able to make do." Mountain's Frost was a tree growing moss that was superb for fighting infections, either as a poultice or when brewed into a tea. Interestingly, it preferred to grow in the colder areas of the North for reasons the Maester hadn't yet puzzled out.

He could make do without a fresh stock for now. His supply was running short, but not that short. Though, should anyone suddenly get injured, the need would become more pressing.

"Found some Thistle Mint though."

Luwin's brow rose a little at that. Thistle Mint was a stalky plant that, once dried, he ground down and put in his concoctions to dull the ofttimes odious smells and flavors, making them more palatable. It was a wild growing plant with similar properties to the more widely used mint which could not survive the North's harsher climes. His stores tended to run out even faster though as the children of Winterfell loved it as well. Once the leaves were used the stalk of Thistle Mint could be chewed and sucked on, releasing a cleansing mint flavor, and they loved it. Grandfatherly that he was, having witnessed the birth of every child in Winterfell's walls, he'd never been able to deny them the small treat here and there.

Though he could swear to both the old gods and the new in seeing Lord Stark himself sharing in it alongside his children.

"A very good day, indeed," Luwin praised, admiring the assortment of plants and roots. "You'd best get to the kitchen, Naruto. Get something in you for the night."

Blue eyes shone from underneath the deep hood of his heavy coat. "On my way now, old man." Shouldering the now deflated bag, he crossed the room and opened the door, offering a simple, "Sleep well, old man," before closing it behind him.

Morning's light saw the many early risers of Winterfell hard at work or generally just already active by the time the sun's rays brightened the horizon.

Naruto, himself, had risen hours ago. Stowing his sleeping gear, he'd gone right to the kitchen and raided it of a few small loaves of bread, some meat, and some boiled oats. Eating his portion, he'd left the rest, Luwin's breakfast, to warm on the hearth in his workshop until the Maester arose.

Now… Coat tossed over a worn fencepost, the young man was rhythmically splitting firewood.

The coat wasn't all that necessary for him in the practical sense of holding in warmth. All his life, he'd always burned a few degrees hotter than was normal. Maybe that was why the cold never bothered him all that much.

It had to get well and truly frigid to make him shiver.

Testicle ascendingly cold.

Funnily enough, when he worked on a decently chilly day, without his coat…he steamed. Yeah, he was hot like that.

The heavy coat was mainly to keep him blended in with its dark colors among the trees.

Hiding bright blonde hair was kind of hard at times.

But, then, awesome tended to be that way.

…Back on track…

Right, on the subject of cold weather…

With the weather in the North, a fire was a necessity practically every single day of the warm seasons, and not just for cooking. The warmest day still had frost forming in the night. And, while it wasn't strictly his duty, he would help out where he could with the firewood. His strength, speed, and stamina not only kept him at the job far longer than anyone else could, but at a much more productive pace.

Not that it was entirely selfless. Sure, the wood kept all within the walls warm, but he had his own reasons as well.

Physical meditation, he'd once heard Jiraiya call it.

Just…letting go…of all higher thoughts and letting himself be taken over by the simple, repetitive process. It was actually fairly relaxing at times. On some level though, he was always aware, as when the wood pile reached a certain height he would call it quits.

Like now. The pile had to be close to a dozen cords in quantity, it had started forming a ways away from him but was now starting to fall down around his ankles as he threw the pieces onto it. Leaning back, feeling the light burn in his shoulders and back disappear almost immediately as his body already healed itself, he dabbed at his forehead with a linen rag from around his neck.

"I envy you your endurance."

Turning, he realized just how out of it he'd been. Sitting atop one of the leftover unsplit chunks of wood was the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. Or just Ned if you were on good terms with the man.

"The sun's barely up and you've already chopped nearly a month's supply of wood," he praised.

(It's a castle. 1 cord would last a month if used sparingly in a house these days. Castles are drafty even without the coldness of the north. Therefore, I can't see a single cord of wood ever lasting longer than a week for them what with kitchens and heating various rooms around the castle. So figure on 8 to 12 cords a month. And as for the time, I'm going with Naruto being an early riser due to excess energy. So at this point, he's probably been up for two to three hours, and at a fast pace for him…lot's of work done.)

Really, the lad before him was far from normal. Even at his weakest, the Lord of Winterfell would wager the young man had the strength of three fully grown men. At his strongest… Well, Ned wasn't sure he'd ever seen that…or what it would take to bring that out.

"Lord Stark," he greeted, tilting his head a little. It was by far the most he could ever go to a bow. He had never…ever…been able to see any man as more or less than another. So, while he would give a small show to those he respected, people like Ned Stark whom he respected wholeheartedly, he simply would not…could not…bend and scrape.

Titles alone tended to grate and wear, but he'd learned to cope. These days, unless circumstances dictated otherwise, he would only address someone familiarly if he trusted them…or if he simply didn't give a shit.

People here just didn't get him. To him, titles weren't anywhere near as respectful as their name. The first was what they were, the latter was who they were. Figure it out.

And Ned, full well knowing the young man's odd manner towards others was his way of treating everyone with equal respect, allowed him his casual nature.

The only reason Ned Stark had his respect as he did was for taking him in as he had when he first wandered this land, a confused, ragged child in the tail end of the last winter. The patriarch had taken him into Winterfell and from there Luwin had begun raising him back up.

But it wasn't just that. It was the type of person Ned was, too, that earned his respect. Ned didn't sit around and get other people to work. If shit needed doing that needed his attention, he'd go on and do it.

It wasn't the North's way to be idle when there was something needed to be done.

The North was full of survivors of nature's harsher elements.

And, oh, did he respect that.

"You were out for a week," the Warden of the North began. "Tell me, how are things looking?"

Walking over to his coat, he leaned against the fence. Wiping off more sweat, "Bears 've been cleaning out the rivers, for one." Many a person wouldn't catch the importance of such information, but the lord of Winterfell was a born and raised northerner, with several decades under his belt.

Ned sighed, nodding. That was as sure a sign as any. "Winter is coming," he murmured to himself. The Stark family motto. One with a myriad of interpretations, all of which were true in one sense or another.

When the bears of the North started becoming more active, it was usually a sign that they were building up fat for the coming winter. Though whether that meant said winter was months off or still longer was left unsaid. But it was still a sign that it was coming, sooner rather than later. Hence "Winter is coming."

Saving that for later cogitation, "What else, then?" he asked, looking to his young woodsman.

"Well…it looks like a good season for wild boar," he offered, scratching his head and looking off into the sky. "A lot of the piglets seem to be turning out male." Really, it didn't matter what animal it was. When it came to determining gender, if it was male, you could smell the darn thing.

Ned nodded. "That's good. We can build up the larder." If winter was indeed looming, it wouldn't do to leave the necessities until later. Food, like wood, was always at the top of the list. And if so many of the boar were turning out male, then they would need to trim them back. "I'll have the cook see how our salt stores are looking." The boar meet would need to be painstakingly salted and stored to make it last. And given how long this summer had lasted so far…longer than any even the Maesters knew of…he had a feeling the cupboards couldn't afford an inch of unused space.

More to it, Naruto taken it upon himself to augment the surrounding areas where he could. At times, when he hunted, he would hand meat off to the local farmers and their families. He'd even returned a handful of times after killing a mountain goat or sheep and brought their young along with him. Most hunters wouldn't have the eye to notice that the animals had birthed, let alone the wind to track down their kids. He would hand them off to farms and even to Winterfell to be raised up instead of being left to perish. Survival cost, but the lad tried to minimize that where and when he could.

"Anything else of note?"

"All's clear so far."

A comfortable silence overtook the men as they watched the sun start to peak over the walls of Winterfell. Eventually though, life had to move on.

He looked to the small mountain of wood. "I'd best get this stacked away."

Gladly kept from business, Ned shook his head. "The chopping alone was equal to a full two-day's work for a strong man. And not only did you do it before sunup, but you still have strength left in you. Now I truly am envious," chuckling a bit at the end before standing, clapping the blonde on the shoulder and taking his leave. "Don't hurt yourself."

"As a teacher of mine used to say: If you're not hurting, you're not trying," Naruto offered back wistfully.

Ned chuckled again, this time lighter of heart at the humor.

(Days Later…)

Near on a week had passed and the same young man was standing with the eldest members of the Stark children. While Sansa and Arya were off being taught in the ways of what it was to be a lady, young Brandon was being tutored by all manner of family and friends on the proper use of a bow.

Just off from the courtyard, dressed in leathers, the young man held his bow aloft. Arms shaking under the bowstring, he sighted down his arrow…and released. At ten yards, the arrow plunked into the head of a barrel, no less than five feet away from the target.

Deflating at his latest miss, one of a series of inconsistent shots, Bran silently fumed at himself. That was one in the dirt, two in the wall, one over the wall, and now one in the barrel. Five shots, five misses. It wasn't like he didn't want to land it in the center. It's just… No matter what it never seemed to get there.

Worse, he could feel the eyes of his father and mother looking down from the wooden balcony, just behind him.

"Remember to keep the bow steady," Robb reminded. "Until the arrow is free, you can jostle it with the bow and throw it off."

Gulping, Bran nodded and, shakily, nocked another shaft. Arm starting to shake, he loosed the arrow when he felt it was decently close to the target.

FWSH!

Fortunately, a tanned hand snagged it out of the air before it could take him in the neck from where he stood, halfway between the boy and his target, still somewhat off to the side. A dangerous location for most anyone other than him. A momentary hush fell on all. Not on what Naruto had done. Time had proven him to be outlandishly quick. Everyone was simply startled at the sudden, potentially lethal mishap.

"Naruto! I'm so-"

"Forget it, Bran," he dismissed heartily, chuckling even. "In all fairness, you're not supposed to stand downrange of the archer." Twirling the arrow twixt his fingers, grinning like a mad fool, "Take a breath, Bran," Naruto offered. "Don't rush yourself."

He was such a friend to the Starks that even the rigid lady of the house, Lady Catelyn, let him get away with treating the Stark children in such a family-like manner. If he weren't so close to age as they were, nor as decent a young man as he was, she mightn't allow it.

Still shaken by what had almost-but-not happened, Bran took the advice. His galloping heart began to slow back to a trot.

At a subtle beckoning from Eddard, he strode the short distance to balcony and gracefully hopped right up to where he could grab the edge of the floorboards. A quick jerk and he shit right up to sit on the railing. Eddard took the action well, but Catelyn seemed briefly startled by the sudden movement.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she insisted, brow knitting in irritation. "The stairs are just there."

"Apologies, Lady Stark," smiling broadly, but no less assuring.

Looking back to Bran and away again, "The boy needs to be more confident in himself," Ned sighed.

"Give him time," the blonde reassured, still spinning the arrow between his fingers. "Whether you're good or bad, practice cures all." He should know. He'd been terrible at so many things, the only way Jiraiya knew to cure it was to steadily beat the lessons into him. In fact, to voice that, "My teacher beat the lessons into me until I got them down. Took forever."

Continually.

Repetitively.

Painfully.

Ned chuckled at the addendum…as well as what the tone implied.