Lord_Snow
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Riverdale Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-10-24 12:29:42 +0000 UTCNotes:
First of all, an apology for the delay, I was sick for many days and in the end I ended up rewriting this story many times. Which is quite frustrating because I already had an idea about how it would go, but while I was writing I wanted to add more things and things changed as I went along. But well, to the important thing, this story is obviously inspired and will take a lot of things from the Riverdale TV Show, specially from the first season which was the only one I saw. Well, technically I also saw the second season, but the quality dropped a lot and not to mention the 3rd or 4th, I didn't even see those. There are still more characters to be introduced, there will be drama, serial killers and, of course, a lot of Smut. The main relationships will be between Jon/Dany/Arianne/Sansa, which represent Archie/Betty/Veronica/Cherryl respectively. Ashara Dayne will also have a lot of importance, but I don't know if she will be end-game, there will also be some other women, but they will be more secondary. But without saying more, I hope you enjoy the chapter.
PS: I changed the models for Arianne and Ashara, now they will be portrayed by Ella Grace Cervetto for Ari and the beautiful Monica Belluci for Ash.
All characters involved are over 18 years old.
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Jon had finished showering, wearing only his pants and a small towel around his shoulders while he finished drying his hair. His gaze wandered around his new bedroom, it was certainly very different from his old one, as it represented not only a new home, but a new life. Everything felt so different in this part of the town, from the houses, the people and especially him, he didn't feel like he fit in a place like this. Ever since he was a kid he had grown up in the worst part of Riverdale, on the North side.
It was practically a place where most of these people preferred to act like it didn't really exist. Generally controlled by dangerous gangs and infested with addicts, lowlifes, and thugs, you could practically say it was the place where the lowest of the low of society dwelled. And he had grown up in the midst of it all, and frankly, it always felt like home to him. Especially since he was the son of Brandon Stark known as the ‘The Wild Wolf’ and the leader of the ‘North Side Wolf's' gang, although that didn't mean he had lived a life of luxury and comforts, not at all. All it meant was that Jon had to prove himself to everyone as the strongest and most worthy to wear the jacket to be considered a member of the North side Wolf's.
Looking now at the jacket with the Wolf logo embedded on the back, Jon remembered how he earned the right to wear it.
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Jon was only twelve years old when his father took him to the bar called, ‘The Nightfort’, when Jon entered, he remembers being overwhelmed by the unpleasant stench of cigarettes and beer. Inside there were several guys of different ages and appearance, but they all shared something similar, they all wore the North side Wolf's jackets. They were all drinking, gambling, laughing and there were even some who were openly fist fighting while those around them cheered and laughed loudly.
“What is this place?” Jon remembers asking his father.
“Home.” Was his simple, straightforward answer.
As they continued to move through the busy place, Jon heard several men whistling and shouting obscenities which caught his attention, turning to where he saw a crowd. He watched as an incredibly beautiful redhead stepped out onto the stage, wearing only a tiny lingerie set which covered her most private parts, the woman seemed to move in slow motion as she advanced towards a metallic dance pole before she began to wiggle and dance seductively around it. Jon watched her brazenly flash her ass towards the male audience and just as she was about to unbutton her bra, his father pulled him by the arm as he said.
“Enough of that boy, there's something more important you need to see.”
Jon tried to turn to look at the woman, but more men gathered around and due to his short stature, they completely blocked his view, feeling slightly disappointed he returned his gaze to the front and followed his father. This time he led him to the back of the Bar before opening a door which seemed slightly hidden, which led to a dark and narrow staircase, Jon didn't know why he was being led to the basement, but he didn't question it and he understood once he got there. If the bar was noisy and crowded up there, the same could be said for this place. Jon saw a large crowd of spectators cheering and shouting while holding tickets and bills in their hands, and here there was only one show, which was on the octagon that was set up in the center of the room.
Inside were two guys who seemed to be actively trying to kill each other with their fists, one was a red-headed guy, who was already extremely bloody, but still fought with the ferocity of a true northerner. The other was a fellow Jon had never seen before, unlike almost all the others, his skin was darker, and his hair was strangely long, though he had tied it up so it wouldn't bother him. But other than that Jon could see that it was his way of fighting was extremely impressive, he was tall, but unexpectedly fast, the ginger didn't seem to be able to catch him, and the blows that connected didn't seem to have any effect on him.
“That's Drogo, or as his people call him 'Khal Drogo'.” His father spoke, catching his attention, turning to him he saw that he had not taken his gaze from the fight. Jon did the same and returning his attention to the fight before asking him.
"Who is he? I've never seen anyone like him before."
He also noticed that on the other side of the stands, there was also a group very similar to this guy named Drogo who seemed to be shouting and cheering in a language Jon had never heard before.
"It's because they're not from here, these Dothraki scum descendants come from far away. They're loud, aggressive and very ugly, but they put on a good show at the fights. But lately this one in particular has been sweeping the floor with all of our fighters." At the same time his father said that, the Dothraki put the redhead in a headlock which applied pressure to his leg and it didn't take more than a few seconds for him to snap it like a toothpick, the audible ‘crack’ was heard throughout the room followed by the redhead's painful whimpering. The guy stood up victoriously as he recited words in his language, and although Jon couldn't understand him, it was easy to tell what he was trying to say. It was a clear display of superiority and defiance towards anyone.
“It's not a good look for us.”
“'Are you going to fight him?” Jon asked him.
To which his father with a discouraging and rare laugh told him. “I wish I could, but my days of getting into the octagon are long over.” Turning to him he put his hand on his head and finished by saying. “So, the duty now falls upon you.”
Jon turned to look at his father incredulously, before turning his gaze back to this Drogo fellow. The man was much older than him, probably in his early twenties, he was a giant compared to him right now, and he knew how to fight, Jon saw no way he could defeat him.
His father could see the fear in his eyes and said calmly.
"Don't worry, you won't be facing him tomorrow, I still have to train you and besides, don't worry too much. We Starks mature early; I have no doubt that in two years you will be as tall and strong as he is. Have trust in your father, have trust in your blood and in who we are. This is our home, we rule it, so it has been and so it will always be."
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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Hx007ukzcC_HIwoeWeZP-8-A3-2V8wPCwRRKh4-wGSM/edit?usp=sharing
