[Chapter Size: 3300 Words.]

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  Third Person POV

  Winterfell, 292 Aext M.

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  Jon arrived at the Winterfell training yard, where the Stark men were in full exercise, training with vigor aermination. Around him, a mix of experienced veterans and young adolest soldiers were striving against each other.

  The sound of g swords, shouts of and, and the noise of feet stomping hard on the ground echoed through the yard, creating an intense and eic atmosphere. Jon paused for a moment to observe, his eyes sing the Winterfell training with i.

  He noticed the dedication and effort of the young soldiers, remi of his own training days there. Jon remai a respectful distance, the training. He noticed one young fighter fighting with a high guard, another with an unstable stance.

  "More firmness in your shoulders!" He saw the corres of Ser Rodrik, effit and timely, and how the youths responded, sometimes with frustration, other times with renewed determination.

  Jon now set his eyes on Ser Rodrik, with the authority of an experienced master-at-arms, moving among the soldiers with an attentive look and a presehat anded respect. He paused for a moment to adjust the posture of a young man, his hands firm yet gentle, guiding the boy's shoulders into the correct position.

  "It's not just strength, boys, but teique and perception. Pay attention to your oppo, anticipate their moves," he instructed, his voice resonating through the yard.

  He approached anroup, watg them exge blows with wooden swords. "trolling the sword is like trolling the mind. Both must be sharp and focused," he said, scrutinizing eaent carefully.

  "Move, move! A battle is not a da's survival, it's instinct," Ser Rodrik excimed, ing more energy and aggressiveness in the young ones' movements.

  "Your enemies won't give you time to think. You must always be two steps ahead," he tinued, his tone of voice alternatiween severity and encement.

  With eastru, the soldiers responded, some with more skill and fidehers still hesitant, but all atteo the master-at-arms' words. Ser Rodrik was teag not just how to fight, but also how to think a under pressure.

  Jon, wearing a simple leather outfit that gave him a more discreet and less imposing air than his armor that had arrived at the castle yesterday, walked towards the training yard.

  As he approached, the soldiers and young recruits began to notice his presence. versations in whispers and curious gurowards him, reizing the young man who had returo Winterfell with so much mystery and glory.

  Ser Rodrik soon noticed Jon approag. He paused his instrus for a moment, watg Jon with a look of i and perhaps a hint of surprise. After all, the st time he saw Jon, he was just a boy learning the fuals of fighting; now, he returned with the air of an experienced warrior as he walked.

  "Boy," Ser Rreeted him with a nod, a sign nition for the young man who had grown so much. "Wele to the training yard. Good to see you here again after years away."

  Jourhe nod, "Thank you, Ser Rodrik. It seems the training is going well," Jon ented, the soldiers and recruits around.

  Ser Rodrik nodded, "reparing as always. The North o be ready for auality and the winter. Maybe you want to join us, Jon? It would be iing to see how your skills have developed after I heard that you lived north of the wall."

  Jon nodded. "Of course, it would be an honor to train under your supervision again, Ser Rodrik."

  The soldiers and recruits watched, some eager to see Jon in a, others perhaps apprehensive about fag someoh a reputation that Jon had created beyond possessing a giant wolf in the woods covered in armor and possessing a Valyrian steel sword, all heard of little Jon years ago. Jon, however, seemed calm, ready to blend in with the others and participate iraining like any other Northern soldier.

  Joo the yard's warehouse and picked up a training sword, feeling its weight and bance, and began to demonstrate some stretches with the sword, he also wore some protective pieces as Rodrick required. As Jon prepared to joiraining, his presen the yard did not go unnoticed. Beyond the soldiers and recruits, whose looks varied between admiration and nervousness, other members of the Stark family and the castle began to gather around to observe.

  Sansa, apanied by her elegantly dressed friends in garments they had embroidered themselves, found a high spot from where they could have a clear view of the yard. They whispered among themselves, clearly ied in Jon, whose return to Winterfell was the subjeany rumors and stories.

  Bran, Jon's younger brother, emerged among the crowd, his eyes shining with admiration. Jon had always been his favorite brother, and now, seeing him in the yard, ready to train, was a moment of pride aement for Bran.

  Robb and Theon Greyjoy, oher hand, had more serious and perhaps slightly sullen expressions. They watched Jon from a distance, mixing feelings of rese and curiosity. The transformation of Johem unfortable and perhaps even a bit insecure about their own status.

  Ser Rodrik Cassel saportunity to test Jon's skills in front of the watchful eyes of the observers. He decided to pit Jon against one of the adolest recruits, a young d who showed promise but was still learning the ways of the sword with 13 namedays.

  Jon walked to the ter of the yard with many w how he, the bastard who returned riding a giant wolf and carrying incredible stories, would fare in bat. There was a mix of expectation and skepticism in the air.

  Jon, aware of the gazes upon him, chose not to dispy arrogance or overfidence against his oppo. He had left his Valyrian swords in his room, but this did not bother him; he had learo turn anything in his hand into a deadly on.

  The young recruit seemed nervous but determined, knowing he was fag someone who was already sidered a living legend in Winterfell. Jon, for his part, maintained a calm and banced posture, dispying the serenity of an experienced warrior, causing Ser Rodrick to raise an eyebrow.

  The fight began under everyone's watchful eye. Jon moved with impressive skill, each strike and parry demonstrating not just strength but also a deep uanding of the art of the sword. He was not aggressive or careless; on the trary, he seemed more ied in teag the recruit than iing him.

  For the spectators, the demonstration was a revetion. Here was Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, exhibiting skills few expected. His return was not just a story of adventures beyond the Wall, but also a testament to the growth and development of a true Northern warrior.

  The fight between Jon and the young recruit intensified, with each rapid movement and calcuted blow. Jon, demonstrating skill and precision, disarmed the boy, but with surprisierity, even causing the boy to fall to the ground.

  Jon approached him, his hand. "You have a good stance, but still o work with your feet," Jon said, extending his hand as a gesture of respect, even earning approval from Ser Rodrick.

  The young d looked at him for a few seds before accepting his hand, gripping it firmly. "Thank you, Milord," he said timidly.

  "What's your name?" Jon asked, not seeming to be talking to a boy 2 years older than him.

  "Karte, Milord," he responded.

  "Karte, don't call me Milord, I'm not a noble here," Jon advised with a small smile, and the recruit nodded before pig up the sword from the ground and leaving.

  "Well done, Jon. And you too, d," Ser Rodrik praised, indig both Jon and the young recruit.

  "Jon, don't think about leavi, let's tih another challenge, I'm ied in your feng." After the recruit moved away, allowing ao take his pce. Jon prepared for the challenge, adjusting his stand holding firm his wooden sword.

  The new oppo advanced cautiously, aware of the skill demonstrated by Jon. The yard fell silent, with all eyes focused on the duel unfolding. Jon, staying calm and trated, faced the new adversary with the same serenity and skill, eventually earning Jon the victainst the older oppo. Again showing why his return to Winterfell was a matter of such fasation and respect.

  As Ser Rodrik tio challenge Jon with new oppos, the young man's feng skills became increasingly evident. With each adversary he faced, no matter the age, Jon dispyed a mix of strength, agility, and tactical intelligence, overing them with a bination of quick strikes and precise defensive moves. His performan the training yard was being an impressive dispy of his abilities, attrag even more spectators.

  Arya, fasated and full of admiration for her brother, couldn't take her eyes off the fight after she came to the yard. She watched every movement of Jon with enthusiasm, abs every detail that she could learn ae in her own hidden feng practices.

  Catelyn and Ned appeared at the top of the castle, looking down at the yard. Ned watched with a mix of pride and surprise, realizing how much Jon had grown and developed in his battle skills since he left Winterfell. Catelyn, oher hand, watched with a more restrained expression, her gaze revealing a plexity of emotions - surprise, perhaps a bit of worry, and a reluit hoable the bastard had bee.

  The fights tinued, with Joing each challehat Ser Rodrik pced before him. With each victory, more people looked with a certain admiration at the 11-year-old boy. Even those who initially had doubts or reservations about Jon began to admit that the boy had the potential to be a great warrior.

  As the atmosphere iraining yard intensified, Ser Rodrik decided to put Theon Greyjoy against Jon. Theon, with a mog smile on his face, approached Jon. He looked at Jon with disdain, clearly uimating him.

  "Let's see what the bastard do," Theon said loudly enough for others to hear, his voice den with sarcasm.

  The two positiohemselves, each wielding a training sword. When the duel began, it was clear that Jon's skill far surpassed Theon's. Jon didn't show anything with Theon's mockery, just took initiative and attacked him; he moved with a grad efficy that starkly trasted with Theon's more clumsy movements.

  In a few moments, Jon disarmed Theon and, with a quid precise blow, made him fall to the ground. Theon's fall was swift and somewhat humiliating, leaving many of the spectators surprised at how easily Jon had won the fight. Theon got up grumbling curses at Jon, but the King in the North didn't even care.

  The training yard became even mitated with expectation when Ser Rodrik called Robb Stark to face Jon. Robb, clearly driven by accumuted anger and jealousy, advaowards Jon with fierce determination.

  Robb attacked Jon with a series of rapid and aggressive blows, his sword cutting the air with force, his strong point. However, Jon demonstrated superior skill, managing the fight with impressive ess. He dodged and blocked every attack of Robb with ease.

  As the fight unfolded, Jon found an opening. With a quid precise movement, he unbanced Robb and softly kicked him, making him fall to the ground. Jon looked at the fallen Robb with an indifferent gaze, an expression that hid any sign of triumph or vanity.

  From the top of the castle, Catelyn watched the se with a frowning expression. Robb's defeat at the hands of Jon only intensified her antipathy towards the bastard, who now demonstrated skills superior to the heir of Winterfell.

  Meanwhile, Sansa's friends, gathered at a privileged observation point, ented excitedly about the fight. "Did you see how Jon moved? It was like he was dang with the sword!" one of them excimed, clearly delighted.

  "Yes, he's so skilled... and that look when he defeated Robb!" another added, her tone revealing obvious admiration for Jon.

  Sansa remained silent, unsure how to react. On one side, she maintained her disdain for her half-brother, oher, she had to admit that he was skilled.

  "Jon won them all!" Oher side, Arya shouted excitedly with little Bran by her side.

  "I think that's enough. You've improved a lot, d, I've never seen anything like it at ye." Rodrick went to gratute Jon, who nodded calmly.

  After leaving the training field, Jon, uhe watchful eyes of everyone, put away his training sword and protective clothing. His performance had left an indelible impression on the spectators, who tio watch him as he walked away.

  Jon walked through the castle with a clear purpose in mind, Arya quickly joined him. Their destination ecific pce where he knew he would find Hodor. Upon arrival, he saw the gentle giant finishing his work for the m. "Hodor!" Joed him with a friendly smile.

  Hodnizing Jon, responded with a smiling and resounding "Hodor!" and ahusiastic wave. He hadn't seen Jon for years, and seeing him here was very exg for the giant. Jon's presence seemed t genuine joy to Hodor, who, despite his limited speech, expressed evident affe for Jon.

  "Shall we go see Old Nan, Hodor?" Jon suggested. Hodor nodded his head vigorously in agreement, clearly excited about the idea. Together, they walked through the castle area until they reached a small house where Old Nan resided he abaower of the castle.

  Upoering the room, they found Old Nan sitting in her chair, her still agile fingers w on some embroidery. Seeing Jon and Hodor, her wrinkled face lit up with a warm smile.

  "Ah, if it isn't the white wolf and Hodor!" excimed Old Naing aside her work. "e, sit down. I have many stories to tell, and I'm sure Jon has some new oo add."

  "It's been a long time, Nan, how are you?" Jon asked with a smile.

  "I'm well, boy. When I saw you arrive yesterday atop a wolf, I saw a true Stark triumphing, it was f to see someone so ected to the ways of the North in this family..." She said, but Jon uood what she meant by that, as the Stark family is currently following the ways of the southerners.

  Jon and Hodor settled in, and for a moment, the seemed a warmer and more weling pce.

  "There must still be Starks greater than me, Nan, and I'm not a Stark," Jon tried to be humble, but couldn't help thinking, 'I'm not a Stark, I'm an artiow,' he said to himself.

  "I saw your creature, child. You put the st thirty Lord Starks to shame with that beast," she said, ughing.

  Jon smiled. "I'm gd you liked Ghost."

  "Now tell me about your years, I've heard a lot about little Jon fag bandits, anding giants, and gias, but I know nothing about what happeo that boy beyond the Wall," she said, looking at Jon with some expectation.

  "It's been nothing out of the ordinary, Old Nan, just fag White Walkers and dealing with the Children of the Forest, and building a sacred grove around the world's rgest weirwood tree," he replied casually, while Arya listened with eyes full of admiration by his side.

  Old Nan fixed her eyes on Jon, her expression refleg a mix of skepticism and i. "White Walkers and Children of the Forest, you say?" she murmured, p Jon's words. "Those are stories I tell the children, Jon. They are legends of the North, tales to scare the little ones."

  Jon, keeping his serious expression, nodded. "I know they are stories for you, Nan, but for me, they have bee reality. I've seen the White Walkers with my own eyes, fought against them. And the Children of the Forest... they are valuable and wise allies."

  Arya, sitting by the side, watched the versation with fasation. "Jo lie, Old Nan," she intervened. "He's a hero!"

  Nan looked at Arya, then back to Jon. "And this story of the sacred grove and the rgest weirwood? That sounds like something out of the old tales."

  Jon smiled slightly. "It's as real as you and me, Nan. I helped build that grove, to protect the weirwood and our people. It's a pce of power and magic."

  There was a glint in Jon's eyes that Nan had never seen before. It was the look of someone who had lived extraordinary experiences and spoke the truth believing in his words unwaveringly.

  Old Nan sighed, putting her sewing aside. "You've always been a special boy, Jon. But this... this is beyond my uanding. Maybe I'm getting too old for these new adventures."

  "Maybe not, Nan, I want to take you and your family with me, I need someoo help the geion know the North, I know of your wildling stories, but my people are different from what you tell here, and I need people to educate them, you will have a much more dignified life than here, I promise," Jon added with a smile. Nan looked into his eyes, astonished, not by the stories he told, but she felt dizzy when she saw that unique green in his eyes that she had never seen in any Stark before.

  Old Nan stopped sewing, her eyes fixed on Jon. The astonishment on her face was evident, not so much because of the stories he had told, but because of the iy of his gaze, those gray eyes with a touch of green that she had never seen in any Stark. For a moment, the room seemed to spin as she tried to process Jon's words.

  "Take me with you?" she repeated, her voice trembling slightly. "Beyond the Wall? Oh, Jon, you've always been a dreamy boy, but this... this is too much."

  Joly held her hand, fort. "It's not a dream, Old Nan. It's reality. And it's a better life that I offer you and your family. You've been more than a nursemaid to me and many Starks. You deserve pead respe your remaining days, away from the straints of this castle."

  Nan looked at Arya, who was listening attentively by the side, her eyes full of admiration for her brother. Then, her gaze returo Jon. "And the wildlings, the giants... all of that is real?"

  Jon nodded seriously. "All real, Nan. And they are my people now. We've built a unity, a kingdom called Arctica. And we need someone like you, who knows the old stories, to guide us."

  Old Nan remained silent for a long moment, abs each word. The idea of leaving Winterfell, her home for so many years, was frightening, but at the same time, Jon's offer brought a sense of adventure and purpose that she hadn't felt in a long time.

  "I... I o think, boy," she finally said, her voice steadier. "It's a big ge, but... but I'm honored by your offer."

  Jon smiled, uanding. "Of course, Nan. Take the time you need while you're here. I'm just a choice, a ce for a new life."

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