Inspired by A Dovahkiin Spreads His Wings by VixenRose1996 and Knights, Magic Dovahkiin by BookishTen8

I own nothing you may recognize even though I wish I did.

Also, this is my first-ever story so I'm pretty sure it's horrible, but I'll try to improve my writing as I'm writing it.

Chapter 1: Homecoming

"An army of the undead surrounds Winterfell. An army of the living is trying to keep back the undead yet they cannot make a difference. Jon himself stands at the head of the human army wielding the Dawnbreaker in one hand and Goldbrand in the other, yet he felt despair, for though he was the Dragonborn, he was still mortal. Even he was unsure of his survival against an army of millions. And at the head of the undead stood a man, whose skin was that of ice, and his piercing blue eyes put fear in Jon's heart not unlike Harkon had all those years ago: the fear that the undead would defile his family lest he fail. Then with a Shout he charged towards the army of the undead-and everything became white. Then two voices he heard a long time ago spoke: "Dragonborn, what you see will come to pass. It is time for you to return home."

Jon woke up with a start. The dream was too real to be considered a mere dream. Moreover not one, but two of the Daedric Princes had appeared in it. The fact that they were Azura and Meridia, the two Daedric Princes that could be considered good, only made him more nervous. He wasn't ready to return home, much less prevent an army of the undead from invading it. If it were Whiterun or even Windhelm being assaulted then it would not be much of a problem. He was the Last Dragonborn, and there were many who would take his word as the truth and come to his aid.

But in Westeros he was nothing more than a stain on his father's honor. A bastard that his father should have left behind and forgot about, but was too honorable to do so. Also there was the problem of leaving behind Skyrim. For the ten years he had spent in Tamriel, it felt more like his home than Winterfell had been. The people of Tamriel did not see him as a mere bastard. He was a hero, the greatest since Martin Septim and the Hero of Kvatch. Moreover he had accomplished too much in Skyrim alone to return.

The sound of the door opening pulled him out of his thoughts. "Papa! Look what I found!" Lucia came in, showing Jon a fox. The sight of his daughter carrying a fox pulled him out of his brooding. "Can we keep it?" Lucia asked, and Jon could not refuse. "Yes, we can. But, you have to take care of it. It's your responsibility. Do you understand?" "Yes papa! Thank you!" With that Lucia left his room.

Jon smiled. Vacation(or retirement) so far had been enjoyable. It was rather nice to be at home doing nothing instead of dealing with whatever he had to as the leader of the various factions he had joined, save the Dawnguard and the Imperial Legion. Ever since his childhood in Winterfell he had wanted to have his own title, or at least one with honor. 'No one in their right mind would want to be called as the Bastard of Winterfell.', thought Jon.

Unfortunately, thinking about his childhood reminded him of his dream. Jon knew his dream could not be ignored. Azura had foreseen his arrival, and he wasn't even born in Tamriel. But to return to Westeros meant leaving Skyrim behind for a long time.

Yes, Jon was aware that while he was from Westeros, his heart always belonged at Skyrim. Even if it didn't, he had a family to take care of. Jon knew he couldn't just ask them to leave behind everything they grew up with and come with him to Westeros.

But he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to return to Westeros. Jon missed his family, especially his youngest sister Arya and his older brother Robb. Moreover, he wanted the truth: who his mother was, and why his father would not talk about her. When he was young that truth would have meant the world to him, but now it was just curiosity.

In Skyrim they didn't care much about him being a bastard or not. The only thing the people of Skyrim cared about him was what could do. Perhaps the reason he wanted to return was to help the people of Westeros see bastards the same way that the people of Skyrim did.

"Brooding again my love? I often wonder if you are a statue rather than a man of flesh and blood." Aela mused. She had returned from her hunting trip. Jon chuckled. "Yet I remember you telling me that you fell in love with me mostly because of my brooding." "That is because your brooding results in a bizarre adventure. So tell me, what adventure does the Last Dragonborn have in store for his wife?" countered Aela.

However, at that Jon became dead serious. "An army of the undead invading his childhood home." To her credit Aela did not appear to be shocked. Rather, it was Jon who was shocked at his wife's next words. "Then when do we leave?" "I-what? You would leave behind Skyrim?" "Yes, I would if you wish it so. Jon Snow, you know better than anyone that I will not turn down an adventure."

Jon knew his wife wasn't lying. Hell, they had fallen in love with each other because of all the adventures they had together. "And our children? Shall we bring them with us?" Although it came out as a question, Jon had no intention of leaving behind his children.

He had spent half of his life with a father and half of it without one, and his children only had five years of living as a family. He had no intention of dying or leaving his children forever before they could go out into the world. Apparently so did Aela, for she replied "Do you really expect me to leave them behind?". With that, the matter was settled.