The second day of the fifth moon — 298-AC:

Snow covered every surface of the grand castle of Winterfell. Guards were placed in their usual positions. Armoured people trained in the courtyard under the surveillance of their seniors.

Jon Snow hiked through an isolated hallway in Winterfell. Ghost shadowed him in his usual silent gait and fixed his red eyes on him. Finding his bed-chambers, Jon entered the room and sat on his bed.

A week had passed since his sudden death and subsequent reincarnation into this alternate universe of A-Song-Of-Ice-And-Fire franchise. The memories of this universe's Jon were available to him.

Rhaegar Targaryen had instigated a revolt against his father—Aerys Targaryen—that the maesters and historians had dubbed Rhaegar's Revolt. It was a short rebellion where Aerys had been overthrown.

Somehow—in the midst of plotting his rebellion—Rhaegar had met Lyanna Stark and it resulted in Jon's birth. Jon's parentage was common knowledge in Westeros, but not many people had seen him.

Lyanna had died in childbirth. No-one had the full story of how Rhaegar and Lyanna met. The ruler of the Seven-Kingdoms had been tight-lipped about their meeting, according to his uncle Brandon Stark.

In this alternate universe of Westeros, Rickard Stark and Brandon had not been murdered by Aerys. Instead, Rickard had died of a disease prior to Rhaegar's Revolt and Brandon had soon inherited Winterfell.

Brandon and Catelyn Tully had wed like Rickard had intended. Catelyn had given birth to twins—Cregard Stark and Serena Stark—in 283-AC. Osric Stark had then been born in the year of 290-AC.

Rhaegar and Lyanna had not been married, so Jon had been born a bastard. Jon had only met Rhaegar a few times when he was younger. Brandon had taken Jon to Winterfell to raise him alongside his children.

House Targaryen had somehow revived their dragons. People in Westeros spoke of how House Targaryen was at an even higher level of strength than they were prior to the Dance-Of-The-Dragons war.

Ghost ascended onto the bed, snapping Jon out of his thoughts. Jon realized it was time for swordsmanship training in the courtyard. Patting Ghost's head, Jon slipped off of his bed and left his chambers.

Jon skulked across the hallways of Winterfell. Most of the servants and workers who he crossed paid him no mind beside the rare cautious glances at the white-furred and red-eyed direwolf behind him.

A number of people eluded him because of Ghost's inaudible but intimidating presence. However, to them, Jon was the baseborn nephew of the Warden-Of-The-North and the lord of Winterfell.

Jon arrived at the courtyard—where Rodrik Cassel trained his two twin cousins. Much like himself, Cregard had calm gray eyes and brown hair whereas Serena had Catelyn's dark blue eyes and Brandon's brown hair.

Rodrik had set some light armour for Jon to wear on a crate in the courtyard. Cregard and Serena had changed into their armour earlier. Nodding at Jon, Rodrik handed him a slick wooden practice sword.

Ghost lounged in a different section of the courtyard. Cregard's black-furred and yellow-eyed direwolf named Midnight barked. Serena's brown-furred and yellow-eyed direwolf called Blizzard yipped.

"Jon." Rodrik spoke. "You and Cregard will have a light spar. Serena—you shall practice adapting your stance in battle."

"Aye, ser Rodrik." Serena yawned into her palm, shouldering her blade and trekking to a separate spot in the courtyard. "I shall."

"I had thought you would be late to ser Rodrik's lesson." Cregard chuckled, holding a wooden sword. "Were you so fearful to face me?"

"Indeed, Cregard, I was most fearful of facing you in battle." Jon rolled his eyes. "I know how you salivate at the idea of hacking at someone."

"Despite what others believe, cousin, I am no brute." Cregard swung his blade in a fluid vertical motion. "I have an appreciation for battle."

Cregard was five and ten, but was talented in swordsmanship and archery. Serena was more proficient than him in the use of a knife and axe. Compared to them, Jon was mediocre and above average.

Jon had not adjusted to the memories of his new body yet, so he relied on instinct and muscle memory to deflect a slash to the chest.

Crossing the distance between them, Cregard smashed his elbow into Jon's unguarded shoulder and smacked the pommel of his blade into Jon's hand to disarm him. Jon reached his foot out for his weapon.

Kicking his wooden sword back into his hand, Jon focused on the weak-spots in Cregard's stance and found none. Cregard's footwork was exemplary and he parried each of the jabs from Jon's blade.

Rodrik returned to their section of the courtyard to observe their spar, keeping his silence and turning to Serena afterwards. Cregard smashed a violent kick into Jon's knee and he stumbled backwards.

Jon recovered his balance, side-stepping a ruthless slice for his stomach. Cregard lunged forward, disarmed Jon for a second time, lashed his hand out, and aimed his wooden blade at his neck.

"I suppose I yield, then."

"A good match, you two." Rodrik had returned to view the end of their duel. "Cregard—your stance in battle could use some extra work."

"Jon, the way you direct your blade at your foe is slow and obvious." Rodrik declared. "You will have to be more quick and vicious."

"But that is enough reviewing on my end." Rodrik squared his shoulders. "Change into heavier armour. You shall work on footwork."

(-)

Jon was bruised and his muscles were sore once his training in the courtyard had finished. Ghost stood next to him. Cregard scratched Midnight's ear and Serena tugged on the branch in Blizzard's mouth.

They had removed their armour from themselves and Rodrik had rounded up their weapons and had taken them into Winterfell's armory. Cregard and Serena joined Jon on his walk across the yard.

"How did you find this day's training?" Cregard stretched his arms. "Ser Rodrik is a fine teacher, but I found practice today a little dull."

Serena laughed. "Ser Rodrik berated you and Jon much about your footwork. His blade made you and Jon devour the snow and dirt!"

"It's his new favourite pastime." Jon said in a sardonic tone. "I will admit I am inadequate to the two of you, but I am improving."

"Nonsense, oh sullen cousin of ours." Serena waved her hand. "Your skill far surpasses many here, despite Cregard disarming you twice."

Serena was a flippant, dutiful, and frivolous person all at the same time. Brandon had been the one to organize her training under Rodrik.

"What a vote of confidence." Cregard scoffed. "You are talented, Jon. But you will have to cultivate your skill more out on the courtyard."

"We all have different areas where we outclass each other." Cregard said. "Dwell on these matters at a later date. Let us head inside."

(-)

Since all of the memories from Jon's new body hadn't integrated into his mind yet, he had borrowed historical tomes from Winterfell's library to learn whether there were more differences in the history he knew.

The history of Westeros was the same history that Jon knew from his past life. Daemon I Blackfyre had rebelled and the Dance-Of-Dragons had happened and other historical events had occurred like in Canon.

Seated on a wooden chair, Jon set the books on his table aside and ate the last of the pie that had been brought into his room beforehand. After returning the plate to the kitchen, he reentered his chambers.

Ghost lazed around on the rug stationed in front of the lit hearth in the room. A gentle fire crackled from the burned wood. Jon barred his door, slid onto his chair, and refocused on the open book on his table.

Shaking himself, Ghost hopped onto Jon's bed and stared at the frost that had gathered on the corners of the window. Jon pushed his book away, then rose from his chair and went up to the shut window.

The hour of the nightingale had been eight hours ago. Grey clouds inhabited the sky and a chill spread across the chambers. Jon decided to end his reading session for the day and carried the books to a shelf.

"What do you think, Ghost?" Jon sat on the opposite end of his bed, scratching the direwolf's ear. "I should train myself more, shouldn't I?"

Ghost nuzzled his nose into Jon's second hand, jumped from the bed, landed on the rug, and gazed at the piece of venison on a plate that he had not eaten during lunch. Devouring it, Ghost licked his teeth.

"I'll get you extra food from the kitchen later." Jon snorted. "I think I'll head out to the courtyard to work on my swordplay. Come on, boy."

(-)

Jon had borrowed a bastard sword from Winterfell's well-equipped armory and had descended onto the courtyard. The men-at-arms and sentries sworn to Winterfell duelled out on the terrain of the courtyard.

Retreating to an empty spot in the courtyard, Jon practiced the different swings, poses, and movements drilled into his head from his new memories. Motioning his blade forth, Jon switched his stances.

Cregard had trudged into the courtyard after an hour and had called him into the Library-Tower for maester Luwin's lessons. The two of them ambled up the stairs and strode into the library of Winterfell.

Serena huffed in boredom from her perch on a chair and completed the sums that Luwin had given her. Sorting through his books, Luwin noticed Cregard and Jon's arrival. "Ah, the two of you are here."

"Excellent timing for once, Cregard and Jon." Luwin smiled, gesturing at the papers on separate tables. "Do make haste on these papers."

Luwin's lessons were either scheduled in the Library-Tower or the maester's turret on occasion. Taking his seat, Jon dipped his quill in ink and scribbled down his answers for the sums on the paper.

"How these topics do befuddle me." Cregard mumbled, drenching his quill in ink and staring at the numbers on the paper. 'I am doomed.'

(-)

The three of them had left the Library-Tower. Brandon had summoned Luwin into his solar for his counsel and their lesson had been cut short. Blizzard and Midnight waited for them at the base of the stairs.

Cregard crouched down and removed the leaves on Midnight's fur. "Has mother given you leave from your embroidery lessons, Serena?"

"She has." Serena patted Blizzard on the snout. "The septa has vacated Winterfell for the time being on a leave of absence of sorts."

"How lucky of you." Cregard stood to his feet, dropping the leaves on Jon's head. "And where has that silent wolf of yours gone off to, Jon?"

"To the kitchens, I would wager." Jon pulled out the leaves on his head, tossing them onto the snow. "Otherwise he would be asleep."

"Mother has made herself scarce since Osric has fallen ill." Cregard took off the rest of the leaves on Midnight's fur. "He is healing well."

"I would hope so." Serena let Blizzard run out into a yard. "I will be off elsewhere in the castle. Do make sure to not stir any trouble."

Serena left the area around the Library-Tower for the Great-Keep.

"We do not stir trouble." Cregard grunted, annoyed. "I think I shall study in the library. Maester Luwin's sums have confounded me."

"Good luck on that." Jon laughed, venturing across the yard. "I'll have to find Ghost. I'm sure he's no longer hounding the cooks for food."

(-)

Jon strolled through a hallway in Winterfell. Ghost tailed him — the silent direwolf had sniffed his scent out and had pinpointed his location. Turning the corner, Jon spotted someone ahead of them.

Robb Stark was the first-born child of Ashara Dayne and Eddard Stark. From his mother's side of the family, he had inherited the infamous purple eyes of House-Dayne and his short black hair.

"Ah, Jon!" Robb approached his cousin, wearing bronze armour that had the sigil of a grey direwolf on its shoulder-pads. "It is you!"

In this alternate universe, Eddard had become the lord of Moat-Cailin and had married Ashara. Brandon had funded the reconstruction of Moat-Cailin from Winterfell's coffers—it was an expensive project.

"Indeed, Robb Stark, it is I." Jon replied. "I had not been given a clue you would be visiting Winterfell. When did you arrive at its gates?"

"I arrived mere minutes ago." Robb said. "I brought along some guardsman, but father and mother have remained at Moat-Cailin."

"Regardless, it is good to see you." Robb shook Jon's hand, then glanced at Ghost in interest. "Is that the direwolf I have heard about?"

"You speak true, Robb." Jon lowered his hand onto Ghost's head. "I have named this one Ghost. Cregard and Serene have their own."

"Serena found them in the wolfswood. We had been returning from a trip outside Winterfell." Jon said. "The mother direwolf had passed on."

"This was around a moon ago if my memory is not deceiving me."

"A fine companion to have." Robb smiled. "Mother insisted that I visit Winterfell because it has been six moons since I've last seen you all."

"You are the heir to Moat-Cailin, Robb." Jon shrugged. "And Cregard is heir to Winterfell. We both know the two of you have your duties."

"Duties that dally away at my time." Robb sighed. "But enough of that. Where are Cregard and Serena? I would like to see them if I could."

"Aunt Catelyn received us, but she had returned to tend to Osric." Robb commented. "I pray to the old gods that Osric will recover soon."

"I'm sure his recovery shall be swift." Jon answered. "But Cregard is studying at the Library-Tower and Serena is somewhere in the keep."

"Best not to disturb them." Robb grinned in amusement. "I assume your schedule is clear? If so, I wouldn't mind having a short spar."

"You'd be right." Jon patted Ghost on the head, walking down the hallway and heading off for the courtyard. 'I still have skills to train.'

(-)

Jon inserted himself into sleek grey armour, snatched his usual bastard sword from the armory, and went to his spot in the yard. Robb brandished his longsword, placing his bronze helm over his head.

There was a crowd gathered around the courtyard — Robb was the nephew of the renowned knight Arthur Dayne, so many men-at-arms were invested in this match to witness his talent in the art of the blade.

'I'm surrounded by prodigies, huh?' Jon grimaced to himself. 'I don't care much about losing—this fight will help me see my weak points.'

Robb charged at Jon in an instant, hitting his longsword against his shoulder-pad and knocking him back. Restabilizing his footing on the courtyard, Jon diverted a slash from Robb's longsword upwards.

Thwacking his blade into Jon's gauntleted arm, Robb redirected the course of his bastard sword. Diving forward, Robb slammed his armoured hand into Jon's mid-section and kicked his chest-plate.

'Damn it.' Jon stumbled back, sliding his blade into his other hand. 'Robb's unpredictable and strong. He won't let his opponent think—!'

Slamming a second kick into Jon's chest-plate, Robb stepped away and rushed at him afterwards. Moving his longsword in a merciless gesture, Robb slashed at Jon's armour and flung him into the dirt.

Rolling to his feet, Jon drove his elbow down into Robb's leg to reroute a third kick to his chest-plate. Holding his sword in reverse grip, Jon deflected a thrust from Robb's longsword intended to disarm him.

Retracting his blade, Robb whirled around, nudged the end of his longsword into Jon's shoulder, and shoved him backwards. Sprinting at him, Robb buried a foot into his stomach and propelled him away.

Jon fell, dropped his blade, and landed on the snow-covered soil of the courtyard. Robb's longsword was pointed at Jon's chest-plate.

"Do you yield?"

"I yield."

Robb lowered his longsword.

"A fine match, Jon." Robb removed his bronze helm from his head. "You blocked a number of my attacks and stopped my slashes."

"It was a good fight." Jon rose to his feet, picking up his blade from the ground. 'I have to be more quick and vicious, like Rodrik told me.'

The men-at-arms gathered around the courtyard walked up to them, patted them on the shoulders, and resumed their duties. Once Jon put his armour and sword into the armory, he returned to the courtyard.

Cregard and Midnight had left the Library-Tower and had jogged over to them. Robb sheathed his longsword, placing his helm on a crate.

"Robb!" Cregard shook Robb's hand. "It has been six moons!"

"Apologies for not visiting, Cregard." Robb smirked. "I'm sure you know how swamped I was in my duties. My father lets me rest not."

"The burden of duty." Cregard chuckled and his direwolf barked. "I must admit I'm surprised you visited. We weren't sent any ravens."

"It was a spontaneous decision on our end." Robb replied. "Sansa and Ulrick are staying at Starfall, so I've only talked to them in letters."

Ghost reached the spot in the area where Jon stood and stationed himself next to him. Mouth parted, Ghost let out an inaudible yawn.

"Of course—you're welcome to visit." Cregard said. "Serena is either in the crypts or the godswood, but I could not tell you for sure."

"I will have to leave on the morrow." Robb told him. "Mother and father have made plans for me to travel to Starfall in about three moons."

"Though, it will be nice to see Ulrick and Sansa again."

"Have fun there when you visit." Cregard ruffled Midnight's fur, then turned in the direction of the Great-Keep. "Let us head into the castle."

(-)

Dinner was served in the Great-Hall. Sitting on a wooden chair next to Cregard and Robb, Jon poked his fork into the cooked fish on his plate. Brandon sat at the head of the table, munching on his bread.

Serena was positioned across from Robb on the table and was cutting her buttered bread into several pieces. Catelyn had gone to Luwin for him to check up on Osric's health. Cregard pointed his fork at Robb.

"How have uncle Ned and aunt Ashara been faring, Robb?" Cregard asked him. "It is a shame that they haven't been able to visit us."

"You're free to visit Moat-Cailin, my lord." Robb smirked. "My father and mother have been looking into building an extension for the moat."

"They have the coin for it, so it will not be an impossible endeavour." Robb said. "But I am not privy to all of the information of this project."

"Ned did tell me about that project of his." Brandon spoke up, taking an aggressive bite of his bread. "It will only take eight moons to finish."

Serena chewed the buttered bread in her mouth. "Where are Sansa and Ulrick? From what I have heard, those two are staying in Dorne."

"Yes." Robb cut into a piece of fish, pointing his fork at Serena and Cregard. "I hope we shall be able to spar on the morrow, you two."

"You and the dirt shall break your fast together." Cregard replied. "It was a draw the last time we sparred, but it shall be different this time."

"Indeed." Serena dropped a part of her meal into Blizzard's maw. "You and the dirt in the courtyard will become the best of companions."

"Enough." Brandon spoke up, eating the last of his bread. "Squabble elsewhere about your rivalries."

Conversation went on until dinner ended. Leaving the Great-Hall, Jon entered the Great-Keep, stepped into his chambers, and sat on his bed. Ghost lounged on his red rug, staring at the window in silence.

(-)

The third day of the fifth moon — 298-AC:

The duel between Serena, Cregard, and Robb was a draw. Jon had watched from the sidelines — Midnight and Blizzard ran around him and Ghost in playful circles. Ghost blinked his red eyes at his siblings.

"You two are still fearsome opponents." Robb's visor was cracked a little. "Serena, it was a surprise for me to learn you wield a spear."

"It has been three moons since I took up the spear." Serena answered. "The spear and the blade are fine weapons nonetheless."

Cregard shouldered his longsword, looking at Robb through his visor. "You have grown more proficient in handling your blade, Robb."

"You forget who I am." Robb chuckled, then turned to the stables. "It is a shame I must leave, but I will make sure to visit you all soon."

Robb gathered his guardsman from Moat-Cailin, mounted his destrier, and rode out into Winter-Town. Cregard and Serena approached Jon and their two direwolves sprinted up to them in excitement and yipped.

"These three have been growing fast, eh?" Cregard commented, scratching Midnight behind the ear. "They'll become fearsome beasts."

Serena petted Blizzard on the head. "They are much more fearsome whenever it comes to who can eat the most venison from their plates."

Cregard nudged his elbow into Jon's shoulder. "You've been quiet, Jon. Have you become fearful of me after witnessing such power?"

"I'm afraid not, Cregard."

"Jon's dour nature is his core trait." Serena remarked. "Even you tend to brood on occasion, Cregard, much like our uncle and father."

"Must you mock me?" Cregard sighed in frustration, walking in the direction of the armory. "Do not forget about maester Luwin's lessons!"

(-)

Maester Luwin's lessons had ended at last. Jon entered the Great-Keep, slipped through its corridors, and returned to his chambers. Ghost devoured the venison on his plate in the corner of the room.

Jon seated himself on his wooden chair. 'I'm not sure why, but I have a bad feeling about something. But I have no clue what it is…'

He sighed.