Arthur: Hello everyone. It has been a while since I started writing. Therefore the chapters earlier on will be relatively short, and will steadily progress as the story develops. Others may know my style as I've written another Jon centric story Uprising. It has some similarities to this story but they are different in concept. I can confidently say this story will be much more mature and darker. Well you kind of guessed it with Euron being heavily evolved lmao.

In this story this Jon will be mainly book Jon. I've wanted to explore the complexity of his character as I believe Jon's character is much underrated in terms of how grey or dark he is in the books. Show Jon, not at all. In here he will start out at 14.

Robert Baratheon won the throne like the main timeline, but it will have some twists that will be revealed on or even in the sequel to this story as it deals with the Targaryens.

Sadly, Ghost will not be featured in this story as he does not make sense within the story.

I do not know if pairings will make it into this story and I wanted to let you all know in advance. The sequel will have them I am certain.

Book and show concepts will show throughout the chapters. Enjoy!

The Crows eye

Life has no meaning unless you make it.

Death has meaning until you make it.

Life and death to simple folk are as much a mystery to them as the gods are, pathetically enough. It is pathetic as the assumption of life and death can stop all…When life and death are only the beginning of the beyond.

As a god, the only hindrance is the one he shall make.

The candles in the room darkened, shifted, twisted, changed. In it, the vision became clearer and in it became something much more.

The bastard of Winterfell

The North was snowing in the courtyard of Winterfell, and tall banners flapped and twisted in the cold sky, ranging from blue, white, orange, and red. But the banner that stood among all the mightiest banners was the snarling Direwolf on a grey and white field. The sigil of the Starks stands tall on the battlements and towers of Winterfell that lasted generations.

Light snow kissed the brow of Jon Snow's dark hair as he eyed the sportsmanship that was occurring in front of the piercing audience. Far from the center and from his siblings, he can observe freely. He had no worries of whispers from the lords and ladies or the glares from Lady Stark when he was safely posted in the back with a few stable boys and squires.

"That's another one."

A loud cheer emerged for what seemed to be the hundredth time this evening as Robb Stark sent Cley Cerwyn sprawling after a brief bout of sword clashing. The audience consisted of all the Lords and Highborn of the North, including squires, stable boys, journeymen, music men, and sellswords that journeyed for this occasion. Winterfell was so large that just this inner courtyard can house everybody with ease. The gates to the ancient castle were still open, and horses and walking people poured in as they speak.

The Lords of the North sat on wooden benches while the rest stood, but even at the farthest distance Jon put himself from the rest of them, he can see the approval in their eyes aimed at Robb. Jon desperately drove the feeling of jealousy away from his stomach. This was his brother's moment.

Smiling brightly, Robb offered a hand to his downed opponent. "I hope that fall wasn't too grievous my lord. You have a long ride home." Jon can hear the snickering in the crowd.

"Boastful little shit," Jon thought with a small smile of his own. Robb can appear unaffected all he wants, but he loves the attention as much as he loves breathing, especially when the maids and the serving girls throw him looks that do not take much figuring out to know what they mean. "They don't even spare me a glance," Jon thought solemnly. He didn't think he was ugly. But his status might as well make him be. He had to drive those feelings away again.

Cley took his hand and stood, smiling also, albeit a little embarrassed. "Not at all my lord, Robb. A good bout it was." Hands clapped softly for him owning his loss like a man.

Robb nodded happily. "You speak truly," he said and clapped the son of the lord of Cerwyn on the back that making the smaller man stubble a little. Jon can hear Arya and Bran giggle even through the ruckus. Theon did not bother to hide his amusement as he outright doubled over. He straightened his spine when he caught sight of Lady Stark's raised eyebrow. Jon's eyes met with Theon's. They both glared at one another and looked away with not a word uttered.

"You've raised a fine boy, Lord Eddard!" Lord Karstark shouted, trying to be heard over the noise, standing with his sons and uncles. His daughter was currently undoing the practice equipment on his younger children Torrhen and Eddard Stark, with his eldest heir ruling his castle in his absence. "And you've raised a better fighter, especially than my lot." With that, he shot a disapproving look at his heirs that sent them into a red heap of shame in their pale cheeks.

Standing above in the upper level watching down below were Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark, the huge hulking form of Greatjon the Umber behind them. Sansa was up there too, having brought her own chair and sitting politely. Jon had mixed feelings for his sister. She never saw him as a real sibling as the rest of them do.

"Don't thank me for my son's prowess with a sword," Eddard called down humbly. "Thank the master-at-arms, ser Rodrik Cassel. He has taught him ever since he could walk on his own legs." He waved a warm hand down to the vague location of the old man that was in the center of the courtyard overseeing the sparring.

The old man was full of whiskers and full of pride, but even he slightly withered beneath the weight of eyes that lay upon him.

"He is a good student and utmost worthy of being the heir of Winterfell," Rodrik Cassel said with his chest heaved, pride lacing his stern voice. This was even more apparent as the master-at-arms eyed Robb's latest victims ranging from Cley Cerwyn to Daryn Hornwood, smalljon Umber, Dacy Mormont, and many more who dared to challenge the auburn-haired lad. There was no sight of the Boltons. Lord Roose Bolton sent him a raven claiming his eldest heir Domeric was ill and offered his apologies for not coming. Based on the joy that was being shared tonight, the lords were more than happy to excuse them from coming.

"Thank you, ser Rodrik," Robb nodded his sign of respect for the man, his bright smile sending women in the crowd into a subdued frenzy. Jon imagined himself in his place, savoring all the glory and admiration.

"I've never encountered a blow like that even with a blunted blade," Daryn Hornwood admitted, rubbing his arm where a bruise was beginning to darken. "Get over it," Jon said in his head. He suffered worse.

"Incredible discipline at such a young age," Dacey Mormont claimed, her being young herself. "A phenomenon." There were more than a few nods and a chorus of agreement fluttered through the courtyard. "I've handed him more than a dozen loses." Where was his praise? It was not fair. Jon fought down his feelings. This was his brother's moment.

Robb's smile was going to burst from his face. Jon never smiled that hard once in his life.

"He's not that good!" Arya shouted from her seat on an empty barrel, a helmet from gods knows where hugging her head. Heads swiveled toward her immediately. Robb's smile immediately vanished and was replaced by hurt. Even Jon felt offended for him. Robb trains hard and was by no means a slouch in combat.

"What are you going to say now, Arya?" Jon couldn't help but worry. He loved his sister, more than anyone. He didn't want her to say anything out of line that can get her punished.

"Arya!" Lady Catelyn reprimanded. "That is unfit to say about your brother." "For once, I agree with the woman."

Arya lowered her gaze to the floor in shame but quickly wheeled it back up stubbornly. "Robb is good! But I know someone that is his age that is better."

"Who?" Theon challenged, ever the supporter of Robb. All eyes were on Arya as they too were curious about who could it be.

Jon had a sickening feeling in his stomach as he knows who his sister was referring.

Despite her earlier confidence, Arya clearly was rethinking speaking out. She pinched her lips and shrunk under the overwhelming amount of gazes. Jon hoped that common sense embraced her in the nick of time.

Bran, beside her, did the job for her. "That's easy! It's Jon!" Having witnessed their spars a thousand times, it wasn't a surprise he said that.

Jon felt the blood rush up in his head and his whole body tensed. "Why did he say that?! Did he somehow forget who I am?" He did the best he could to make himself small and slowly stalked away through the press. I knew this was a mistake! I should've stayed in my chambers!" He would've never done that despite this outcome, however.

Catelyn and Eddard froze up above while the crowd murmured in confusion.

"Jon?" Jon heard Robin Flint ask in puzzlement. The boy in question crouched even lower to make his escape. The bystanders cursed him as he bumped into their legs. He didn't care. He wanted to leave before things went to shit.

"Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell," Theon said for all to hear, a sneer on his lips. Jon never hated him as he did right now. The Greyjoy never liked Jon and neither did he.

Robb threw an angry look at his longtime companion but stayed quiet.

A silence descended in the yard as awkward looks were sent Eddard and Catelyn's way. The couple chose not to speak, but anyone can see the steel in the former's eyes and the tension in the jaw of the latter.

Arya regained her confidence. "He's the best swordsmen in Winterfell! He has beaten Robb many times!" A loud chatter erupted. Despite himself, Jon's heart warmed from his sister's honor of him.

"Is that so he'r!?" Greatjon slowly turned his eyes to Eddard beside him but he did not respond and then turned his eyes in question to ser Rodrik.

His eyes were followed by many. The master-at-arms once again squirmed under the spotlight but spoke, "Yes he has. The boy is marvelous in his own right." He rubbed his long whiskers in thought. "Snow has definitely gotten the better of the heir than the heir has gotten the best of him."

Doubt and skepticism swept through the crowd. They did not believe his words.

"Well…let's see then!" Greatjon's voice easily carried throughout the courtyard. "I want to see him fight!"

"He is a bastard," Jon heard someone say in front of him. "What he can do that the other lads couldn't?"

"The bastard can't shine Robb's boots," Jon heard someone say in the distance.

"He is a nobody. Lord Eddard just made a simple mistake. Just keep him out of sight."

"He is just a mistake. The master-at-arms is too forgiving."

Anger rushed from the depths of his belly and settled comfortably in his cold chest. "Why must they think me so low? Jon thought furiously. "The status of my birth determines that I cannot hold a sword?"

"Where is the boy?!" Greatjon questioned. His huge frame dwarfed all.

Before Jon knew what he was doing he stood with his hand raised. "Here, my lord Umber!" Eyes snapped to him like he was a target dummy for bow practice. The Greatjon smiled at him in satisfaction.

Jon has never had attention on him at once like this. Before he loses his nerves, he quickly moved his way to the center of the courtyard where Robb and Rodrik stood watching him approach.

The crowd easily split apart for him to pass like a knife cleaving through butter. Low murmurs followed him as he goes as always. He hears them when he walks the hallways, trains in the yard, and even with his siblings. Jon kept his eyes down the entire time, telling himself that he didn't want to trip on someone's leg, but it was a lie.

"This is a bad idea," Jon concluded as he raised his eyes.

Rickon, Bran, and Arya were clapping away rigorously and chanting his name. The lords of the North were silent but judging him through their cool eyes. Robb, Theon, and Rodrik were staring at him as if surprised that he actually walked out here.

Lady Catelyn was giving him the look that she gave him since he was brought here in his father's arms, outmost disdain. Finally, Jon's eye's clashed with Lord Starks.

Eyes that were so similar to his own watched him, cool and grey that gave away nothing. Eddard Stark's face was so passive that even Jon couldn't discern what the lord was thinking. It was the face many have said Jon inherited. It gives nothing away.

All he got was a slight nod of the head.

And that was enough.

As Jon padded himself and readied his equipment, Rodrik strode over and puts a single heavy palm on Jon's developing shoulder.

"You want to go through this, Jon? Lord Umber be damned. If you don't want to fight, you can tell me right this instant and you can retire to your chambers the same you did yesterday as if nothing changed."

Looking at his trainer eye to eye, Jon can tell that he was worried and truly cared for him. But at this moment…

Jon loved it. The attention he always wanted as a child seemed to be at his fingertips. He never wanted to admit it, never wanted to say it out loud, but he's always wanted the glory his siblings warranted from just being born. He wanted this. He was worthy of recognition. He wanted to prove everyone wrong.

He deserved it.

"I'm ready, ser," Jon replied calmly. That's all that needed to be said. Rodrik held eye contact for a minute and then briskly nodded and moved to the center.

Jon's arm hands were sweaty. He had to reconfirm that he had a firm grip on his sword handle. His heart was beating. He forced himself to take a small number of gulps from the cold air. He tried not to pay attention to the crowd as he eyed Robb walk towards him.

"This is just like our normal spars," Robb said with a smile that comes to him easily. "It's just a shame that our men and ladies will have to witness me drop you into the snow." He twirled his sword along his wrist.

"We will see if you can make it to that point, Stark," Jon countered, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Their usual banter before their matches eased his spine a bit. "It will be a shame if you disappoint them, girls, over there." At that Robb craned his neck to peep a couple of serving girls gossiping and blushing at him by one of the stairs. The heir of Winterfell quickly turned his eyes back to the front, a hideous blush across his face. It was just a reminder that they were both still boys.

"It is just one of our normal spars." Jon steeled his eyes. He thought this, but it will not be the case, he feared.

"Let's go, Jon," Arya screamed, pumping her little fist in the air.

"Let's go, Rob! Let's go, Jon!" Bran chanted.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Rickon just wanted to shout.

"Show him something, Robb," Theon encouraged.

The rest of the attendance picked up the noise. Jon strained his ears to block out and to hear the muffled noise Rodrik was saying.

"Go!"

Those simple words prompted both boys to meet in a clash of swords in the middle of the courtyard. The sound of Grunts mixed with the parrying and slashing of the blunted weapons filled the courtyard. Birds screeched and fly high to escape the commotion. Their blades whirled and clashed in the air. Their swords interlocked. It was a battle of strength. Jon broke the lock and slashed at Robb's mid-section. It was parried to the side. Robb's shoulder barged into Jon to which the bastard absorbed and fixed his feet to stop the stumbling. Jon fainted to the left. Robb fell for it, and Jon clipped him on the shoulder pad for his error. Robb scowled and met him in another clash.

As Jon evaded a slash from Robb, he slowly focused more and more on the match until the outside noises slowly drained away. He danced with his brother among the snow. The blades clashed, again, again, and both boys twisted and twirling to get the upper hand over the other. Robb was bigger and stronger, Jon slimmer and quicker. Jon used his speed to maneuver in ways Robb couldn't. And Robb used his power to keep Jon on the heels of his feet. They fight in their own way to achieve victory.

It was just not the victory the welcoming party was expecting.

Jon, sliding to the right to avoid an overhead blow, struck devastating quick in retribution. With a loud clatter, Robb's sword flew out of his hands…

…Into Jon's waiting palm.

Robb blinked and the next second he found two blunted swords at his neck.

There was no applause. No cheers. The air was just deadly silence.

Feeling a little stung, Jon quickly made the move to remove his padded armor.

"I shouldn't have done that," Jon cursed to himself as he put his sword on the rack. "Now I look like a bastard trying to usurp my brother's claim." It was bad enough that he looked more Stark than all of Lord's Stark children besides Arya. He knew it irked to Lady Stark to no end.

He was pulled from his musings as Arya collided with his midsection.

"Told them! I told them!" Arya was rambling, a bouncing ball of energy. "They didn't believe you could do it, but…you did! I believed in you! Your way better than Robb!"

"But at what cost?"

Jon gave a soft smile and rubbed her messy hair. "Thank you, sister."

"He isn't much better than me, Arya," Robb muttered, a flush running up his neck. "My hand slipped." Theon rubbed his face to hide a smile.

At that, laughter and sniggers ran up and down through the crowd.

"Do not make excuses because a better man got the best of you in battle," Eddard said above, a deep frown lining his stern face. "Shake hands and get on with your day."

Now the redness reached Robb's ears. Jon knew that his brother was truly embarrassed. It did not help that the Greatjon's laughter was shaking the whole castle along with the rest of the attendance.

"He's not the better man," Robb snapped, eyes narrowed, snow melting in his auburn hair. "He's just a bastard. He's got nothing and not worth anything. He just got lucky." That stopped the laughter instantly. Theon stopped but he was still smiling in agreement.

"Robb!" Lady Catelyn chastened, not because of what he said, but because he said it out loud to where he seemed like a little child with a tantrum. She was more worried about his appearances than anything. Even Sansa covered her mouth in shock.

"Take that back!"Arya shouted. She Pounded on Robb's chest in anger. "Take that back, you butthead! That's our brother!"

"Robb."

Eddard Stark's voice could've frozen everyone to ice. The lord gripped the wooden rails tightly to the point his gloves could be heard clenching. And his face tensed with barely controlled anger. "You will apologize to your brother." It was nowhere near an offer.

Robb's face converted from anger to shame as he realized what he said. Jon can see the regret shining in his blue eyes. He opened his mouth to possibly apologize, but Jon was already running away from the courtyard. He didn't care.

There must be snow in his eyes because it burned. Jon wiped them away furiously, and his hands came up wet. "Damn snow."

He didn't know where he was running. He didn't care. He just wanted to get away from the rest of them. The cold air rushed into his mouth and into his lungs. It hurt. But he was hurting already.

It was at this point that his legs took him back to his chambers. He shoved through the door and slammed the door and closed the bar on it.

"That's what everyone's thinking of me, even my own family."

Robb's words hurt. Jon found it hard to breathe. He didn't know why his eyes were so blurry. When he gets his strength back he will visit maester Luwin. He crawled into his bed and wrapped himself in his furs, closing his eyes to make them see well. He heard the party move into the great hall to start the feast. He didn't feel like feasting.

"I am not good enough."

"Lord Eddard agrees with him," Jon concluded. "He just didn't want his heir to share his thoughts in front of his lords."

"I shouldn't have agreed. Rodrik knew. He was trying to warn me. He knew."

"They can't see my worth here."

"I don't belong here."

At that Jon's eyes snapped up. A fire of justice blossomed in his stomach. He will show them. If they don't want him here, he will be gone. It was the perfect moment with everyone occupied with the feast. He will go far away and make a name for himself. He will join a sellsword company and fight pirates and smugglers. He will forever be known as a bastard, but he will be the greatest bastard since the Blackfyre rebellions.

They will all think him worthy then.

Arthur: There goes chapter 1! Let me know what you think so far in the comments. Bash me or praise, I want the interaction to better myself as a writer. As for Jon's wish to be the best bastard ever since…yeah he could've used a better reference lmao. But he's young and going through it right now.

Are ya'll excited for the House of Dragons prequel coming in a few months? I sure hell am. I am interested to see how the show develops with the material being completely written to adapt to the tv screen.

If you got any questions, let me know!