I am unbelievably humbled and honored by you guys, 118,000 views is insane to me. You guys are what keeps me motivated to keep on writing and continuing the story of our favorite lone wolf. I know my updates are rather sporadic and slow, but life has really kicked me in the teeth lately. Returned from deployment, my alcohol got out of control, I wasn't liking who I was as a person. So I tried committing suicide last month, it was the hardest and darkest time of my life. Luckily, i did the one thing I'd never done before. I asked for help.. and I got help. I'm still not 100%, probably won't be for a while. But I am receiving the treatment and support that I needed. Asking for help was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I had to do it for the future I wanted, the wife I hadn't found, and the kids I haven't had yet. But, I am getting better, and will continue with my therapy, treatment, and most importantly. My sobriety.

With all that being said, I give you all the next installment of this story. I wish all a happy and good day. Stay safe.

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or Halo as they belong to their respective owners.

Jon Snow

Red Keep

He watched as the last of his household left for the tourney, he'd been left behind. Queens orders, he scowled in the darkness of the dimly lit room. He'd thought father or Six would have talked to the king, but King Robert was already deep into his cups and it wasn't even midday. As upset as he was.. this did provide him an opportunity. With the Lannister guards gone, along with all the kings guard. Most of the royal quarters were left unguarded. Along with Six's. He didn't like the notion of going behind his friend and mentors back. After all the man had done for him. But, he needed to know what was being kept from him and his sisters.

If it was something small than he wouldn't have even thought about it, but this was different. Six had practically regressed to the quiet giant that he'd been when he first arrived. Silent unless spoken too. Only speaking regularly to his father, Lord Stark. He was gone before light and back before dark. Sometimes it seemed as if he only returned when he was bid to. 'What in the seven hells is going on?'

With enough brooding to himself, he opened his doors and crept down the halls. Silence was his ally, with fur padded boots his feet were quiet. He'd have been heard if he'd worn his leather boots, but through Six's guidance in stealth this would be more efficient. He stuck to the wall leading to the Spartans room, slowly peeking around the corner he was relieved to see it unguarded. He made his way to the door, felt on the handle and applied gentle pressure. Locked. Damn it, he dropped his head. He should have guessed, no man like Six would be stupid enough to leave their quarters unlocked, especially in Kings landing.

Thinking of his next move he felt around in his pocket, ahh there it was. He pulled the slender metal piece out and examined it, along with combat and stealth. Six had also began instructing him on escape tactics. From dislocating his thumb to un shackle himself from irons, to using what appeared to be a smaller flaying knife to pick locks. Gently he inserted the lockpick into the mechanism, feeling for the teeth. One down, he felt for another. Ahh this seemed to be a more complex lock than most, he'd got the third one. As he felt for the last one, he heard the sound of shuffling feet. Shooting his head into the direction of the disturbance, his heart quickened. Doubling his efforts he felt around with more pressure, a low click was heard as the door cracked.

Sighing in relief he quickly but quietly opened and shut the door, making as less noise as possible. Relocking the door, he slid to the ground as he listened to the footsteps. Closing his eyes, he focused on clearing his mind to listen only to the steps. It didn't sound like regular boots of a Lannister of Stark guard. These were almost as silent as his, perhaps the sole of the foot was covered with silk. As the steps grew slower he could hear the silent breathing through the door, his heart beating hard in his chest. Whoever it was, he had caught a slight scent of lavender perfume. He could smell the oil from lotion used on the skin, only higher members of society could have afforded such things. So no maiden or servant, that narrowed down the possible suspects.

But before anything more could be discovered, the person left abruptly giving a slight scoff. Waiting for the steps to clear, he'd let out a low sigh of relief. Once he knew he would not be disturbed, he got to his feet and scanned the room. Everything was perfectly organized, a stack of papers lay on the lone desk along with a quill an ink. To the left of it was the armor, no display could handle the weight so it was set neatly in the corner. Helmet staring back at him, almost taunting him or watching him. He walked over to it and began examining it. He'd never actually had the chance to study Six's armor until this very moment. Brushing his fingers over the golden visor he felt the prickle of scratched metal. A scarring was to the right of it, as if struck by lightning. Looking to the chest piece now, it was covered in various empty pouches. Though the shoulder had the Spartan's curved knife sheathed in it. Not wanting to disturb it, or risk a chance of the armor tipping over which would no doubt be a very loud clumber.

He observed the numbers on the left side of the chest, the numbers B-312 were displayed. Just above it was a sigil of an eagle and globe, though it was very faded and scarred from previous battles. Having seen enough from it, he turned to the desk. Slowly opening the first drawer, he looked inside. Only a set of metal tabs were present, gently he picked one of them up.

Jorge-052, huh. This must have been one of Six's friends who had died in battle, he looked at the others and deduced it must have been some team he was apart of. He went to put it back when he seen a set of numbers etched into the back of it. Holding it up into the light so he could make out the letters, his heart began to race once again. This.. didn't make any sense. He stared in horror at them, no.. this can't be right. He'd no idea what he had stumbled upon in here, but he knew what he was looking at. It was a date and location.. and it read, August 14, 2552. Planet: Reach.

Planet? 2552? His confusion only grew as his hand started to tremble, setting them back inside the drawer he'd decided that he would return at another time. For now he had some answers, though more questions arose than he'd hoped. But, he did know this. The year wasn't 2552, and this world wasn't reach. He closed the door and relocked it, quickening his steps back to his room. Not thinking of remaining in stealth as he rounded a corner, he came face to face with.. Varys. The eunuch seemed surprised but quickly hid it as his hands were deep into his sleeves. Jon remained silent as the two men exchanged looks, it was as if they were silently prodding each others thoughts.

"Hello, Jon Snow. I would ask what you would be doing in the darkness of the keep, but we both the answer to that. Don't we?" Varys seemed delighted at his sudden intrusion, Jon would have to form his words carefully. This was the spider after all.

Purging his emotions, he responded. "Yes, Lord Varys. The queen did not want to lay eyes on Lord Starks bastard son at the tourney, leaving me here."

Varys gave a chilling small smirk in return, "Of course, I would like to express my sympathy to you. True, bastards are treated less than the shit they throw out the windows in flea bottom. But there are few who do not, we are all the same when it comes to the air we breathe and the blood we shed. Though I must say it is rather odd to see you in another part of the royal quarters. So far from the privacy of your own, one could assume that.. you were digging." Varys said as he leaned forward in a hushed voice.

Jon remained impassive on the outside, but was frantic inside. Though he was certain that Varys was merely goading him into slipping up, the man had no idea what he truly could have been doing. But from the slight glimmer in the spiders eyes, he knew he was wrong. Before a retort could be made small child ran past them, giving a fast look to the spider before hurrying down the hall he came from. A fast flare in the spiders eyes appeared as he stood a bit away from Jon, giving a small bow in curtesy. The eunuch left without another word. Jon simply stared at the retreating form, more questions he'd found today.

Sighing to himself he returned to his quarters. The candle light being the only source of life in his room, walking over to the window he pulled the curtains away. Light filled the room as he snuffed out the candle, he pulled the chair from his desk out before plopping down in it. Gods, why did everything have to be so difficult. He pulled a small parchment out and began making notes of his discovery today, keeping track of things for future times. He stared at the small paper before snarling inn annoyance and throwing it back into the drawer.

More questions than answers.. but he did have some answers. He would just need to do what he'd been taught, move in silence.

Kings Landing

Noble Six

Today was the Tourney of the Hand and he was guarding Sansa as the day began. She walked slowly and scanned the surrounding festive activities. Hands clasped behind his back he followed her step by step.

"Did they have days like this in your land, Six?" She asked curiously. Six merely side glanced to her before keeping his gaze forward.

"I'd assume back in the capitol they would have, but I never attended." He answered lowly. Sansa peeked back at him, an almost sad expression.

"Why?"

"I was needed almost daily for the war, always on an assignment. It wasn't exactly a time for me to celebrate." He replied, his low voice like a growl.

She hummed at that, before silently moving forward. "Why haven't we seen you lately? This week has been the most I've had a chance to talk with you, let alone see you."

Six hardened his features, "I'm working with your father on something very important. That's all you need to know."

She expected that response, he used to be fairly open with her and her siblings. But recently, he'd shut people out. It was like when he'd first arrived, only this time almost more so. He was constantly alert, practically sweeping any area in seconds.

"What about your name day? Surely you celebrated those." She said stopping mid-stride for his response. Six didn't really know how to answer that one, he'd never celebrated his because he couldn't remember it. All he could remember was that he was three years old when he volunteered for the Spartan III program.

He counted the years he'd been a Spartan as his age, so he'd just recently turned twenty one.

"I.. know of others who celebrated theirs." He replied slowly.

She frowned, "You didn't?"

Six sighed at that, he could see where the conversation was going, "No, as I said. I was very busy."

Sansa kept still at that, before continuing her pace. "I'm sorry, I've always celebrated mine.. so I can't help but feel privileged."

Six looked at her softly, "I'm glad you do, no one back home felt the same way. So being here, seeing people like you have something to celebrate without the worries of a tomorrow. Is why I keep going, it's what has kept me going."

Sansa lowed her head and hid a small smile at his response, but she still had one question. "So when all the wars have been won, all the battles fought, what will you do then? What do you want?"

What does he want... a question he's never been asked, yet a question even now he's searching the answer for. "I don't know, I don't even know if a future like that is possible. Not with my luck."

Sansa smiled larger at that, "Maybe your luck can change."

He watched her walk away, her wolf beside her almost in perfect sync with Sansa. What was with all the questions today? She'd never asked so many questions about him before, ahh probably that teenage curiosity Ned was talking about.

Maybe.

He caught up with her shortly after, thankfully she was fairly quiet for the remainder of the journey back to the stands. He took his position behind her and watched his surroundings critically.

So far he'd not seen anyone in particular catch his attention, mostly knights and contestants going over the motions of the days events. Then he saw it, some brick fed man that walked taller than any Spartan he'd seen. Covered head to toe in blackened steel armor and a large great sword, he glared at any and all that dare look to him.

So... that must be the mountain, or Ser Gregor Clegane. He thought he'd be taller. Nonetheless this was someone he would keep an eye on. This day and age, a man of that size and strength would think their untouchable. Though Six was more than confident in his abilities to incapacitate him, it was never good to underestimate an opponent. No matter the size or skill. Nevertheless, he returned his attention to his original task. Six followed her to her seat next to her father, Ned giving him a curt nod. Six returned it, and sat down quietly next to them. It was only moments away from starting as the people began clambering to their seats and stands. He looked to the royal suite as he seen the King slouched drunkenly with a horn of wine in his hands. The queen staring in disdain at her husband, as much as he was investigating her and her family. Six couldn't help but feel sympathy for her, if Robert had been a better husband to her. Maybe she wouldn't have been that way.

On her left was an older man with a piercing gaze, graying beard and balding head. But a dangerous look in his eyes, so.. that must be the Lion himself. Tywin lannister. Six will admit that from his readings of the Lannister lord, he'd approved of his previous military campaigns. The destruction of House Reyne and Tarback was more than justified, and if the reports of King Aerys were true. He was also justified in his sacking of Kings Landing, sure innocent people were caught in the mix, but that's war. War doesn't care who you are, civilians always die. It's inevitable, a fact that most seem to ignore.

Flashback

He'd had his fair share of blood on his hands from his time fighting the insurrections. One in particular on Echelon IV, he'd been tracking down one of the last militia groups in the system. The leader had surrounded himself with hostages, all of them with C-12 strapped to their chests. As he peered through his scope, he equipped the muzzle with a suppressor mod. First, he took care of the sentries on the outer reaches of the camp. It was a rather nasty storm so he could use the wind and occasional thunder strikes as cover, this was the last encampment of the local militia so their numbers were scarce. That didn't stop their atrocities though.

As he took care of the last sniper on their posts, all that was left was the leader. Placing the rifle on his back he silently slid down the hill, the thrashing of tree limbs silencing his movement. He made his way over to the hostages that had been rounded up in a mosh, they all were unconscious. Placing his hand on the deadly ordinance, he looked for the wires that would need cut. Only there weren't any, sighing to himself he should have planned for that. It was remote detonated with steel plating covering their device. It would require a specific code to unlock, one the leader had. Pulling himself up he stalked forward, he entered the small building. There in a fur patted chair and a cigar in the hand, was their leader. Nathan Volkhov.

"I was wondering when you would show up." Volkhov smirked as he puffed more smoke in the air. He seemed completely unbothered by the current circumstances, as if he was the one in control.

"Where, is the kill switch?" Six rumbled out.

Volkhov gave a squeaking laugh as he doubled over, he wiped the tears from his eyes as he slowly calmed down. Six advanced quicker than a strike of lightning, the man was in the air with a hand around his neck. Six glared at the man in hatred as he applied pressure, but again the man kept his smile. Finally, Volkhov choked out his last chilling words.

"I am the killswitch." Six cocked his head in confusion before his eyes widened, as time slowed he could hear a faint click counting down. It wasn't on him.. it was inside him. Six threw him away and began sprinting towards the hostages, but before he could even make it to the door. He heard the sound of metal slicing through bone, Volkhov had shot himself. Time stopped as he watched the body crumble to the ground, he could only turn his head towards the hostages in hopelessness. Volkhov had used a device attached to his heart, that upon flatline. Along with the others. The last thing he remembered before being picked up by a pelican, was the bright light that consumed the innocent hostages.

End Flashback

Since that day, he had to accept that some people. Just want to watch the world burn.

Turning his head back to the festivities in front of him he felt a small hand on his shoulder, looking over. Sansa had a concerned look on her face, eyes darting back and forth to his. To reassure he gave her a small smile and motioned to the upcoming event. She returned her smile and began conversing with her father. Soon the entire arena began to quiet, as the king stumbled upwards. With a thunderous roar he declared, "Let the tourney of the hand.. BEGIN!" The crowed erupted as he slammed back into the throne.

Six looked onwards and could only think, 'Might as well enjoy it, don't want anyone being suspicious of me.' So without hesitation he leaned forward and grabbed an ale from a servant and downed it. Wiped his mouth and watched as the Jousts commenced. First up, Ser Jaime Lannister and Ser Barristan the Bold. Hmmph, this should be interesting.

A/N: There she is ladies and gentlemen, the tourney has begun. I know this was more or less a teaser for the actual event, but its a stepping stone for the further installments. The plans I have for this.. are something special. I also wanted to include more of Jon in this, and next chapter we'll have our very first Arya perspective. A bit of a challenge for me, but I'm embracing it. So let's just say that Jon isn't the only target of the starks..

Until Next time.

Deuces.