Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a work of fiction created by a fan of the Game of Thrones series and is not endorsed by or affiliated with George R.R. Martin, HBO, or any other entities associated with the original work. All characters, events, and settings depicted in this fanfiction are entirely fictional and should be regarded as such. The views and opinions expressed within this fanfiction are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the official policies or positions of the creators of Game of Thrones. Reader discretion is advised as this fanfiction may contain mature themes, violence, and explicit language consistent with the tone of the original series.

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Jon, Benjen, and Ser Arthur had ridden hard on their horses for ten days straight, the cold wind biting at their faces as they pushed onward through the snowy wilderness. The journey had been grueling, but their determination had carried them through. Now, they were just a day away from Winterfell, the familiar sight of the castle's walls promising warmth and rest.

"We're almost there," Benjen remarked, his voice carrying a note of relief as he glanced at Jon and Ser Arthur. "Another day's ride and we'll be home."

Jon nodded, feeling a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "It will be good to see Winterfell again," he said, his mind drifting to the family he hadn't seen in weeks. "I just hope we've timed it right."

Jon, after warging into Ghost, had informed them that the King's party would arrive at Winterfell the following morning. With this knowledge, they collectively decided to rest for the night and continue their journey in the morning. This way, they would miss the King's arrival but make it just in time for the feast that night, strategically avoiding an encounter between Robert and Jon.

As they settled down for the evening, Benjen spoke, his voice carrying over the crackling fire. "It's wise to avoid the King's arrival. Robert's presence will draw all eyes, and we don't need the added attention right now."

Jon nodded in agreement, his thoughts aligned with Benjen's. "It's better this way. I don't want to deal with Robert's questions or his curiosity just yet."

Ser Arthur, who was tending to his sword, looked up and added, "We need to focus on what lies ahead. The feast will provide a distraction, and we can blend in more easily."

With their plan set, they relaxed slightly, knowing that the next day's journey would be straightforward. They took turns keeping watch, the firelight casting dancing shadows around them.

Jon couldn't help but think about what awaited him at Winterfell. The secrets he carried, the new bonds he had formed with Vermithor and Midnight, and the looming threat of the White Walkers all weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, there was a sense of purpose that drove him forward.

As he lay down to rest, Jon's thoughts drifted to his family. He wondered how they would react to his return, what they would make of the changes he had undergone. He was no longer just Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell. He was Daemon Targaryen, a wielder of ancient powers, and a key player in the battle against the coming darkness.

The night passed uneventfully, and as the first light of dawn broke through the trees, they prepared to set off once more. Jon felt a surge of determination. They were close now, and soon they would be back in the familiar halls of Winterfell.

As the evening settled in, the group prepared to execute their plan. Ser Arthur, understanding the necessity of staying hidden, prepared to take Vermithor to the Wolfswood. The dragon, still young and small enough to be somewhat manageable, followed Arthur's lead obediently.

"We'll find a secure spot in the Wolfswood," Ser Arthur assured Jon. "Vermithor and I will be safe there until you need us. Just make sure you handle things in Winterfell carefully."

Jon nodded, appreciating the trust and caution in Arthur's voice. "I will. Stay safe, and keep Vermithor hidden. We can't afford to draw attention to ourselves just yet."

With a final nod, Ser Arthur and Vermithor slipped away into the shadows of the forest, leaving Jon, Benjen, and Midnight to make their way into Winterfell. The castle was alive with the excitement of the King's visit, making it easier for them to blend into the crowds.

As they entered the courtyard, Jon marvelled at the bustling activity around him. Servants hurried about with trays of food and drink, while nobles and their retinues gathered in small groups, engaged in lively conversation. It was the perfect setting for Jon's dual objectives.

"Remember," Benjen whispered to Jon, "our primary goal is to talk to Ned, Robb, and Catelyn. Everything else is secondary."

"I know, Uncle," Jon replied, though his mind was already working on how to maximise his Gacha Points. "Let's head to the Great Hall. They're likely to be there with the other Northern Lords."

As they navigated through the castle, Jon's keen eyes took in the familiar faces of the Northern nobility. He made a mental note of who was present: Lord Umber, Lady Mormont, and Lord Glover, among others. Each encounter could potentially increase his Gacha Points, bringing him closer to the next draw.

As Jon stepped into the Great Hall, he immediately spotted Ned and Catelyn seated at the head of the table with King Robert and Queen Cersei. Their expressions were a mix of formality and strained politeness, typical for such high-stakes political gatherings. He knew he would need to speak with them soon, but first, he needed to find Robb.

Scanning the room, Jon quickly located his brother mingling with the other Northern Lords and their heirs. Robb moved confidently among them, his presence already commanding respect. Jon felt a surge of pride for his brother, knowing that Robb was well on his way to becoming a great leader.

As Jon moved through the hall, he couldn't help but notice the familiar faces of the Northern nobility. Lord Umber, Lady Mormont, Lord Glover, and their heirs were all present, each encounter adding to his growing tally of Gacha Points. Internally, Jon smiled as he felt the points rising with each interaction. In just ten minutes, he had already gained a hundred points, bringing him closer to the next draw.

"Jon!" Robb called out, his face lighting up as he saw his brother approaching. "I didn't expect you back so soon!"

"Neither did I," Jon replied with a smile, clasping Robb's forearm in a familiar gesture of brotherhood. "But there's much to discuss, and it couldn't wait."

Robb's expression turned serious as he led Jon to a quieter corner of the hall. "What's happened? Is everything alright at the Wall?"

"It's a long story," Jon said, his voice low. "I've learned some truths about my parentage, and there are threats that could endanger us all. We need to prepare, and I need your support to do so."

Robb nodded, his eyes filled with concern and determination. "You have it, Jon. Whatever you need."

Before Jon could continue, a loud laugh echoed through the hall, drawing their attention. It was King Robert, clearly enjoying himself despite the formalities. Jon knew he needed to speak with Ned and Catelyn soon, but he also couldn't afford to miss this opportunity to gather more Gacha Points.

"Let's join the others," Jon suggested, nodding towards the gathered Lords. "I need to speak with Father and Lady Stark, but we can mingle for a bit first."

As they moved through the hall, Jon made a point to engage with as many of the Northern Lords and their heirs as possible. Each interaction was brief but genuine, a quick word or a friendly nod adding to his tally. He could feel the points accumulating, bringing him closer to the crucial Gacha draw.

Eventually, Jon and Robb made their way to the head of the table. Ned looked up, a mixture of surprise and relief crossing his features at the sight of Jon.

"Jon," Ned greeted him warmly, rising from his seat. "It's good to see you back."

Catelyn's expression was more guarded, but there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "What brings you back to Winterfell, Jon?"

Jon took a deep breath, ready to dive into the explanations he had prepared. "There are things we need to talk about, important matters concerning my future and the safety of the North."

As he began to speak, Jon couldn't help but glance around the hall, noting the presence of the Northern Lords and their heirs. Each interaction, each conversation, would be an opportunity to gather more Gacha Points. It was a delicate balance, but Jon was determined to make the most of it.

As Jon and Robb navigated the bustling hall, exchanging pleasantries and collecting Gacha Points with each encounter, Robb leaned in closer to Jon, his voice low and serious.

"Jon, there's some news you need to hear," Robb began, his expression grave. "Lord Roose Bolton's bastard son, Ramsey, was found dead."

Jon's eyebrows rose in feigned surprise. "Ramsey? Dead? How did it happen?"

Robb's gaze flickered around the room, ensuring their conversation remained private. "His body was discovered in a horrific state. He was flayed, Jon. His skin was peeled from his body. It was a gruesome sight."

Jon's stomach churned at the description, though internally he felt a surge of satisfaction. Bronn had done a good job, it seemed. "Flayed? That's Bolton's signature. Who could have done this?"

Robb shook his head, troubled. "We don't know. There are many rumours, but no solid leads. Some say it was retribution for his own brutal actions, while others whisper of darker forces at play."

Jon nodded thoughtfully, maintaining his façade of concern. "It's a grim way to die, even for Ramsey. We need to stay vigilant and figure out who did this."

"Agreed," Robb replied, his voice grim. "Father is focused on the King's visit, but he'll investigate once the festivities are over. We must keep our eyes and ears open, Jon."

Jon nodded, fully aware of the weight of the situation but inwardly pleased that one threat had been eliminated. "I'll do what I can to help. For now, let's focus on gathering information and staying alert. There's much at stake."

As they continued to mingle, Jon's Gacha Points steadily increased, bringing him closer to the next draw. Despite the dark news, he kept his senses sharp, ready for whatever came next.

—

As the feast wound down and the hall began to empty, Jon and Robb made their way through the familiar corridors of Winterfell. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the stone walls, adding an air of solemnity to their journey. They arrived at Lord Stark's solar, where Catelyn and Ned awaited them, seated by the hearth. The room was warm, the crackling fire providing a stark contrast to the chill outside.

Ned looked up as they entered, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. Catelyn's gaze was more guarded, but there was a flicker of interest in her eyes.

"Robb, Jon," Ned greeted them, gesturing for them to sit. "I trust the feast was enjoyable."

"It was, Father," Robb replied, taking a seat. "But there's much we need to discuss."

Jon nodded in agreement, his mind racing with the myriad plans and secrets he held. He took a deep breath, preparing to address the first topic at hand. "Lord Stark, Lady Stark," he began, meeting their gazes with determination, "there are some important matters we need to discuss, about my future and the path I need to take."

Ned leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concern. "What is it, Jon? You know you can speak freely here."

Jon glanced at Robb, who gave him a reassuring nod. "Firstly," Jon continued, "I need to tell you about some visions and guidance I've received. The Old Gods have shown me a path, one that leads me to protect the North and fight against the coming darkness."

Catelyn's expression remained cautious, but she listened intently. "What kind of visions?" she asked, her tone skeptical.

Jon took a deep breath. "I had a vision at the Weirwood Tree. I met the Three-Eyed Raven, who revealed the threat of the White Walkers and told me to prepare. The Old Gods guided me to a cave where I found a shadowcat cub, Midnight. They also showed me these."

He reached into his pack and pulled out Dawnbreaker, the sword glowing with an otherworldly light. He then retrieved the Wakandan Vibranium Shield, its metallic surface gleaming in the candlelight. The sight of these strange and powerful artifacts drew gasps from his family.

Catelyn's eyes widened, but she still seemed unconvinced. "These are impressive, Jon, but how do they prove your visions are real?"

Jon nodded, understanding her skepticism. "There's one more thing," he said, glancing at Ghost, who was sleeping in the corner of the room. He closed his eyes and concentrated, feeling the familiar sensation of slipping into the direwolf's mind. In an instant, he was warged into Ghost, who stood up and padded over to Catelyn, nuzzling her hand gently.

Catelyn stared in astonishment. "Jon... you're inside Ghost?"

Jon, through Ghost, nodded. He then returned to his own body, blinking as he adjusted back to his human senses. "Yes, it's a gift from the Old Gods, inherited from my Stark bloodline. I've learned to warg into Ghost, and now, into Midnight as well. These abilities, these gifts, they are meant to help us in the fight against the White Walkers."

Ned, his expression serious but proud, spoke up.

"The Old Gods have chosen Jon for a reason. We must trust in their guidance," he said. "If they have shown you this path, we must consider it carefully. But what does this mean for your future, Jon? Where do you see yourself?"

Jon took a deep breath, preparing to reveal the next step of his plan. "I intend to travel to Essos to reunite the Targaryen clan. We will need their help in fighting the Others."

Ned's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Essos? That is a long and perilous journey, Jon. Are you certain it's necessary?"

Jon nodded firmly. "Yes, I am. Daenerys and Viserys are the last known Targaryens, and their support could be crucial in rallying more allies. There are also a lot of Sellsword companies in Essos that could help turn the tide in our favour against the White Walkers. I must bring our family together."

Catelyn's expression remained guarded, but she did not voice any objection. Instead, it was Robb who spoke next. "While you're in Essos, Jon, I'll focus on preparing the North. We need to fortify our defences, gather supplies, and rally the Northern lords to our cause. We can't face the White Walkers unprepared."

Ned leaned forward, his gaze serious and intent. "There's one more thing, Jon. King Robert has named me Hand of the King. I will be heading south to King's Landing to investigate the death of Jon Arryn, the previous Hand. It was a suspicious death, and there are many questions that need answers."

Jon's eyes widened slightly. "Father, that's dangerous. The politics of the south are treacherous."

Ned nodded. "I know, but it must be done. Jon Arryn was a good man and a friend. If foul play was involved, we must uncover the truth. Moreover, I will use my position to rally support from the southern lords. We need allies from all corners of Westeros to stand against the threat of the White Walkers."

Jon felt a surge of gratitude and pride. "Thank you, Father. Your support will be invaluable. If we can unite the North and the South, we stand a better chance."

Ned placed a reassuring hand on Jon's shoulder. "You focus on your mission in Essos. Bring the Targaryens together and return with their strength. We will need every advantage we can muster. And remember, Jon, you are my son, Stark and Targaryen both. Never doubt that you have a home and a family here."

Jon nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words. "I won't forget. And I promise to return with the Targaryens. We will face this threat together."

Robb spoke up, his voice filled with determination. "While you and Father are away, I'll ensure the North is prepared. The lords will heed the call to arms. We'll fortify our defenses and gather our strength."

Catelyn added, "We must all do our part. The challenges ahead are great, but with unity and determination, we can prevail."

Jon looked around at his family, feeling a deep sense of unity and resolve. "Thank you all. Together, we will face whatever comes."

Ned rose from his seat, signalling the end of their meeting. "Then it's settled. We each have our tasks. Jon, prepare for your journey to Essos. Robb, ready the North. And I will head south to King's Landing. May the Old Gods watch over us all."

Jon turned to Ned with a furrowed brow. "Father, who will you seek assistance from in King's Landing to investigate Jon Arryn's death?"

"Catelyn has proposed her childhood friend, Petyr Baelish," he explained, casting a thoughtful glance in her direction. "Given his position as Master of Coin, he may have valuable insights and resources to aid us in our investigation. Do you agree, my lady?"

Catelyn nodded in confirmation, her trust in Petyr Baelish evident in her expression.

Ned noticed the scowl on Jon's face at the mention of Petyr Baelish and addressed him directly. "Is there something on your mind, Jon?"

Jon hesitated, carefully choosing his words. "I... I heard a rumor in White Harbor," he began tentatively, "about Petyr Baelish. It's said he boasts of having... claimed the maidenheads of both the Tully sisters."

Catelyn's expression turned from cautious to shocked, her eyes widening in disbelief. Ned's features hardened into a grim mask of anger, his jaw clenching visibly. Robb's brows furrowed in a mixture of surprise and disgust, his gaze flickering between his father and Jon.

Catelyn's voice was laced with disbelief and outrage as she turned to Jon, her eyes searching his face for confirmation. "Is it true?" she demanded, her tone sharp with accusation.

Jon's nod was solemn as he confirmed Catelyn's worst fears. "Yes, it's true," he admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of the revelation. "Littlefinger has boasted about it openly. It seems to be his favorite story to tell."

Catelyn turned to Ned, her eyes pleading for understanding. "Ned, you must believe me," she implored, her voice tinged with desperation. "Petyr has been weaving lies and deceit for years. This... this is just another one of his fabrications."

Ned placed a comforting hand on Catelyn's shoulder, his expression firm with conviction. "I trust you, Cat," he said reassuringly. "We'll find another way to get to the truth of Jon Arryn's death, one that doesn't involve Littlefinger."

Robb's voice was filled with concern as he addressed his father. "Father, please be cautious," he urged, his gaze earnest. "This revelation about Petyr Baelish has shaken my trust in southerners. We cannot afford to take any risks, especially when it comes to matters as grave as this."

As the meeting came to a close, Ned assured his family that he would proceed with caution and investigate the matter further. Catelyn, though visibly shaken by the news, trusted in her husband's judgement. Robb, ever vigilant, emphasised the need for caution in dealing with southern allies.

With their plans laid out, they parted ways for the night, each with their own responsibilities and concerns weighing heavily on their minds.

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