[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]

  Third Person POV.Winterfell.

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  "This was so easy..." Jon's voice broke the silence as he looked down at the man who had attempted to duel him, now lying lifeless on the ground. Silenveloped the training courtyard of Winterfell as everyoruggled to process what had just occurred. They had just witnessed a man throw a sword with such speed and precision that, upon striking his oppo, it pierced through armor and embedded itself directly into the heart.

  It was something no one had ever seen before, nor could they have imagined possible, yet now they had seen it done by a man standing before their very eyes. Be it the king, the nobles, or even the assembled men and women of the crowd, all gazed in stunned disbelief. Some women immediately covered their eyes and screamed at the sight of the sword striking the knight, uo look at the fallen man lying on the ground.

  Sansa Stark was one of them. She had hoped to see the knight uphold justice against the man who had challehe prince of Westeros, expeg a galnt fight where the knight would triumph, as iories she loved. But reality was crueler than she had imagined.

  The gazes quickly shifted to Jon, one by one, filled with doubt and questions. "How did he do that? Who is he really?" In the end, no one could believe that a bard could wield a sword like that.

  "Well," Jon said with a grin, ign the stares fixed on him. "I suppose since I've won, I won't be punished. But if you'd like to send someone else, go ahead. You even pick a member of the Kingsguard."

  He openly mocked, his eyes gng at the prince, who was being teo by the maester while the boy's mother, furious moments ago, now forted him. Even they seemed stunned as they looked at Jon.

  Joffrey, for his part, was incredulous. He had refused to go baside the castle before the duel, eager to see the bard killed brutally by the knight. Now his eyes reflected pure shod fear.

  "Enough of this!" The king's thunderous voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Damn it! How did you do that? I've never seen anything like it!" Robert Baratheon excimed, rising from his seat and gring at Jon.

  "It's not my preferred style of fighting, but it's effective for quickly dealing with overfident men," Jon replied, almost as if mog.

  "That was anything but honorable." ark's voice sounded beside the king.

  Jon raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by his uncle's reproachful tone. "We 't always get what we want, Lord Stark," he replied with a faint hint of irony.

  "I don't know where you e from, but here ieros, we don't fight like that," Ned reprimanded again, his toern.

  "Don't be such a bore, Ned! A fight is a fight. And I see nothing unfair when both start on equal footing," King Robert retorted, clearly less devoted to honor than the Lord of Winterfell.

  But Jon seemed to ighe king, keeping his gaze fixed on his uncle. He knew what Lord Stark had done in the past—killed an unarmed man after he had been stabbed in the back, like what had happeo Arthur Dayhe irony was gring, and Jon almost felt like throwing it in his uncle's face, but he restrained himself, settling for a mog smile.

  Ned, realizing it would be poiue further, simply sighed and said nothing after hearing his friend. The king, meanwhile, turned his attention back to Jon, now wearing an expression that mixed fasation and curiosity.

  "You fought well. I hought I'd see something like that—someone killing another man by throwing a sword from such a distance. And with enough force to pierce through armor! I 't believe what my eyes just witnessed!" He paused before tinuing. "Regardless, you are fiven for your words, though I still don't care much for them or your attitude. I'd even knight you as one of the Seven Kingdoms' knights if you showed a bit more respee. Even so, I'd like to invite you to King's Landing. Your songs and even your skills would prove most... intriguing," Robert cluded.

  "About that. I'll dee, King of Westeros," Jon said in an indifferent tone.

  The king didn't seem too pleased with the response. "Very well," he said curtly.

  "If you'll excuse me, I'll be heading to a tavern in Winterfell. After all, I need something to eat," Jon added, gesturing nontly as he finished speaking.

  Robert, irritated once again by Jon's attitude, merely waved him off. Though he disliked Jon's arrogahere was nothing he could do—he reized that the young man had the right to e and go as he pleased, and Jon could irial by bat again if challenged.

  Jon shrugged and walked away uhe gaze of everyone present, heading calmly toward Winterfell's gate until he disappeared from sight.

  Some time ter, the king, his mood soured, excimed, "I'm in a foul mood! Bring me more drinks!"

  The activity in the courtyard resumed, with training tinuing, but nothing nearly as iing as what they had just withe queen, furious that the bard had walked away unpunished, retreated into the castle with her injured son. Meanwhile, many in the courtyard remained deep in thought, murmuring about what they had just seen. Some even wondered aloud what might happen if Jaime Lannister were to fight Jon.

  Meanwhile, Jon arrived at one of the city's taverns. He chose ohat wasn't very busy, entered, and took a seat. It didn't take long for him to order something. Shortly after, someone approached him.

  "You... are him?" A feminine voice said, soundiive.

  Jon raised his eyes and saw a woman with red hair and light eyes, her slender and striking figure partially revealed despite the northern cold. Clearly, she rostitute—exactly why he had avoided the city's brothel to get something to eat.

  "I'm not ied in your services," he replied, gng at her for a moment before speaking in an indifferent to didn't matter if she was a beautiful prostitute or not; Jon wasn't ied in such things.

  The woman seemed a bit disappoi his words but forced a smile. "Well... that's a shame, sidering I wouldn't charge someone like you—mysterious and all, showing up at Winterfell's feast. They say you're even more handsome than Jaime Lannister, and the rumors were right..." she added, still attempting to seduce Jon.

  Jon raised an eyebrow at her ent, intrigued by the kind of buzz his as had created ihan a day, but he shrugged, showing his disi again moments ter.

  Receiving no respohe woman turned a, realizing she wouldn't get anything from him, despite her genuine desire to sleep with the man everyone had been talking about, even without charging for her services.

  Not long after, someone else approached his table.

  "It's not every day you see a prostitute leave her brothel to find someone. I noticed her at the window watg you as you passed by, and she followed you here..." a familiar voice said.

  Jon looked up to see Mance approag. Maopped in front of him, his eyes still curious, and then sat across from Jon.

  "Don't give me that look. You did the same thing our friend did yesterday," Manented with a ugh.

  "Fair enough," Jon replied calmly before tinuing. "As for the woman, I'm not ied. After all, I already have enough spearwives," he added with a small smile.

  "Well, it's still hard to believe. Did you really steal women beyond the Wall?" Mance asked, pressing the issue with a curious expression.

  "A girl from Tormund's tribe, Ygritte—kissed by fire with blue eyes; Craster's niece, Lucis, with bck hair and blue eyes; and han your sister-in-w, Val. I don't o describe her appearance, do I? Looks like we're part of the same family now," Jon said sarcastically.

  "Well, that's something to think about. I doubt someone in my group will take kindly to this news," Mance responded, his tone calm. There was a man in his group—Jarl—who had an i in Val, but he'd be disappoio learn she had already been "stolen."

  "Anyway, I want to know how things are beyond the Wall," Mance asked, and Jon nodded.

  The versation unfolded as Jon shared details about what he had seen beyond the Wall while his food arrived. They tiheir discussion, as the quiet tavern provided an ideal setting for a private versation—no bustling bao drown out their words. Unbeknownst to Mance, Jon had already dealt with potential eavesdroppers, ensuring their privacy.

  Jon stayed there for some time, talking with Mail te in the m. He expihe situation at the Wall and beyond, providiails that made it clear he uood the challenges faced by the Free Folk as they marched toward the Wall.

  By this point, Mance fully believed Jon. The information he shared was accurate, and Mano longer saw him as an enemy, though he still regarded him with a measure of suspi. After all, Jon had proven himself no ordinary man, even g the name Daemon of House Targaryen.

  "I'll be heading beyond the Wall soon. I don't believe it's safe here," Mance said at the end of their versation before asking Jon, "And you, what do you pn to do?"

  "I'll stay in Winterfell a few more days. I o iigate a few things, then I'll leave as well—though I might linger a bit," Jon replied. He had itments beyond the Wall and po return to the Free Folk, determi them safely to the southern side of the Wall.

  Later, the two had lunch at the tavern. Afterward, Jo uhe curious gazes of the townspeople. Many had already heard rumors about the mysterious man who had appeared in Winterfell and what he had dohat m in front of the king and everyone else. His violet eyes, skill with both musid bdes, had made him unfettable.

  After that, Jon disappeared, and three days passed with strange happenings unfolding. Though Jon was rarely seen now, rumors about him tio spread.

  "I heard he was in town st night, but he disappears like a ghost. Do you believe that?" a servant whispered in a er of Winterfell's halls.

  "Are you saying he's not real? That's impossible. To me, he seemed very real at the ba," another replied.

  "I know, but no one seems to get a clear look at him anymore. They say he was seehe kewo days ago, then vanished!" the first woman answered.

  It had been three days sihe events iraining yard. During that time, Jon appeared in different pces, but never for long. Some people caught fleeting glimpses of him, while Queen Cersei desperately searched for him, seeking vengeance. Guards scoured the town and its surroundings, but no one could locate him entirely. Jon had bee an even more mysterious figure, fueling the growing tales about him.

  Sihe day of the training yard i, Lannister men had started turning up dead in Wiown. Many believed it was Jon killing them, as the Lannisters were hunting him on the queen's orders. Acc to rumors, the prince's nose had been broken and wouldn't heal properly, further enraging the queen.

  Meanwhile, the gossip tinued. At a nearby table where the servants whispered, Tyrion was drinking.

  "People have been talking a lot about that bard tely. I've heard some stories about him being a bloodthirsty killer every night... quite fasating, really."

  "I don't see what's so important about this man," Jaime muttered beside his brother that m, clearly ued as he kept his usual bored expression.

  "So tell me, dear brother," Tyrion mocked, "if you had fought him, would you have been able to stop that sword flying at you?" He asked, giving Jaime a sharp look. It was evident that not even he believed Jaime could handle such a situation, and silently, he was thankful the king hadn't sent his brother to fight.

  "You uimate me, Tyrion. I'm one of the fi knights in the Seven Kingdoms. I wouldn't lose," Jaime replied. But despite his fident to didn't sound as firm as it should have. He tried to maintain his posure, but Tyrion noticed the hesitation. After all, no oruly knew how to deal with a sword ing straight for their heart—especially one capable of pierg iron armor.

  "Anyway..." Tyrion decided to ge the subject. "Did you notice that beds have started disappearing from many rooms? Even from our dear sister's. She's frustrated, though she doesn't evehat bed with her husband," Tyrion ented, his tone casual.

  "They're mog us," Jaime cluded, irritated. Beds were vanishing from rooms without expnation. "This must be the work of those Starks. They must be behind these disappearances."

  The mystery of the missing beds was yet another rumor spreading through Winterfell, but the case of the queen's missing bed caused the most uproar. Jaime seemed vi was a direct provocation, givearks' dislike of the Lannisters. It felt like an insult, having their beds stolen.

  At that same moment, Jon was also in Winterfell. He was in a room no one knew about—the king's own room. Robert, as per the queen's demand after his incessant dalliances with prostitutes and servants, slept separately from her. Jon held an intriguier he had intercepted before it reached the king's hands.

  The message came directly from the Master of Whisperers aailed movements of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Jon read its tents carefully and murmured to himself, "It seems my time here is over. I'll head east to look into this." He cluded, noting that his aunt was either marrying or had already married.

  Though his face remained calm, Jo a surge of anger as he read. The letter mentioned his uncle and aunt allying with the Dothraki, the barbarian horse-lords of the desert. "This makes no sense," he thought. "Selling your sister for an army of savages who won't even cross the sea? Something feels off about this..." He felt a wave of disappoi as he said this. He hadn't expected to find them under such circumstances.

  Determio see things for himself, Jon decided to finally leave Winterfell. He slipped discreetly out of the king's room without aig, moving through the corridors with the ease of someone who owhe pce.

  Lately, he had been stealing various items from Winterfell, including the missing beds. He had even taken the queen's bed—an effort to impress his spearwives by letting them sleep in a queen's bed. Lucis, in particur, would find it fasating, as she had always been curious about life south of the Wall.

  But Jon didn't head outside the castle just yet. He had o matter to attend to before leaving. He made his way toward the sor where Lord Stark was having an argument with his wife. Using his heightened senses, Jon observed the se from a distance. With his "magic eyes," he identified ark's robust silhouette and Catelyn's slimmer, more feminine figure as they argued.

  Lord Stark had been trying to find him again, having issued an order to locate Jo murders and disappearances were being attributed to him. Though the rumors wereirely accurate, Jon had been sileng any Lannisters hunting him uhe queen's orders.

  The corridor leading to the sor was finally before him, and he saw the guards statio the door. "It's time to finally reveal who I am," Jon thought, a faint smile f on his lips.

  He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and began walking toward the sor, determio face his uncle under his true name and share some very iiions.

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