Author's Note: First sentence and first 3 words of 2nd sentence from A Dance with Dragons
Chapter 1 – Jon I
When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold ... weirwood? And a voice more felt than heard, booming out through the half-sleep, saying "Now your oath is ended."
Jon came fully awake, confused. He was in a godswood, he could tell by the heart tree he was slumped near. He jumped to his feet in a practiced motion as he reached for Longclaw, but the bastard's bastard sword wasn't at his hip. In its place was a common arming sword. He drew it, and turned around him, getting his bearings. East by north-east, he saw a broken tower. The Broken Tower. He was in Winterfell. How had he traveled all the way south from the Wall overnight? But how? And why were direwolf banners flying instead of flayed men?
Jon then turned to the pond and looked in it, at his reflection. His beard was gone, and his hair was shorter than when he had gone to the Wall. So, he had awoken in the past, but how far back? He hadn't gone to the Wall yet, so Uncle Benjen was still alive. Perhaps he could still save him from the Others, but that depended on many things, some out of his control. He pursed his lips and blew the whistle that should summon Ghost, but the albino didn't appear. In his place a different sort of wolf appeared.
"There you are!" cried Arya. "Father's waiting for you; he's ready to ride to Crofters Village." Crofter's Village, why did that sound familiar? And she was alive and still here in Winterfell? Gods, how he missed Arya. Of his family, he missed her the most, as she treated him as a true sibling. The news that that Bolton bastard was to marry her had broken his resolve, and probably led to the damned mutiny. Still, that was in the past, or future, or a future that was no longer. Or had it all been a dream? Damn it! If he broke down now, he wouldn't be able to save anyone!
"Why? What business does he have there?" Jon asked, hoping for an event he recognized, while biting his lip to keep his face from betraying his emotions.
Luckily, Arya was in high dudgeon and not paying attention, as she blurted out "Some prisoner to be judged, I think. It's unfair, Bran's getting to go, but I have to stay and learn knitting from the stupid Septa," before darting off into the Godswood.
Jon thought to himself as he strode to Father, Robb, Bran, and Theon were waiting. Prisoner. Crofters Village. The Night's Watch deserter. Today was the day they found the direwolf cubs. There was still time to save the Starks, but not much. And Theon. Had the storming of Winterfell been his idea, or had he been forced to by Lord Greyjoy? Robb might have known, in the future that would not be, but he had died at the hands of Roose bloody Bolton and the treacherous Late Lord Frey. He tried to clear his mind of all that had happened to him, and his face revealed none of the turmoil he felt.
As the Stark party rode, Jon sat in silence, devising and discarding many plans, throwing himself into strategy to keep his emotions in check. His memories of the dark future were a blessing, he was sure. But how to use them? One gambit seemed like the best option, but it would require convincing Lord Stark of his seeming prescience. What could he 'predict' that would be convincing? The raven that would arrive with word of his namesake's death, and the King wanting Father to become the new Hand. Maybe, this time, he would learn who his mother was.