[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

  Third Person POV.Winterfell.

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  ...

  Jon raised his mug, smming it forcefully oable, drawing everyone's attention once again.

  "Listen to what I say," Jon began, fshing a grin at everyone. "Never sleep with a woman after you've broken things off with her. Trust me, tell her you don't want anything to do with her and leave. Because if she tries to seduce you saying it's the st time, you might find yourself in the middle of the night with a k your throat!" he said to everyone.

  "Hahaha!"

  "Why didn't you ght to a prostitute?"

  "Let me guess, you didn't die?"

  The northern men who worked as guards for House Stark and had taken the night off to enjoy the feast alongside the servants ughed at the tales of the stranger called Dovahkiin. Jon tinued sharing his experiences—especially the funny oertaining them with stories from his love life.

  "I didn't die, luckily," Jo on, lifting his mug again, mimig the motion of wielding a sword. "She didn't just have a dagger; she pulled out a sword, my lords! And she wasn't aiming for my ney heart. Her words were…" He raised his mug dramatically, imitating a ssh. "'If you won't stay with me, you won't stay with anyone!' So, she aimed directly at my dick!" he excimed, making everyone burst into ughter.

  "Hahahaha! I hope you weren't castrated; that's worse than the Wall!"

  "Hahaha! Tell us the rest, please."

  Jon grinned. "Of course not! I was quiough to draw my on and stop that crazy woman from castrating me. I tell this story with a smile now, but I swear, few things scare me, and that night I found one of them," he said, ughing and drinking.

  The outburst of ughter and ents from that table quickly became a highlight of the room, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. People turo look at the men of Winterfell ughing and seeing Jon, for the first time, as the life of the party.

  "Who is that?" people murmured, whispering at their tables. uards, servants, bards, and performers, whose attention had been drawn to the lively table, watched Jon drinking, ughing, and making witty remarks.

  "Where did you find him, Ebarke? He might talk more than a northerner, but he's definitely more fun than any southerner!" The men ughed, drinking and making ents. They reized Jon as a true northerner, despite his unusually talkative nature.

  "Look at his eyes…" a few servant women murmured, noting how Jon was quickly being the most handsome man in the room. While he didn't possess the prestige of someone like Jaime Lannister—whose status could make any maiden swoon—they had to admit that Jon's bright purple eyes and charming smile made him even more captivating.

  "These southern guys… they talk too much," muttered someo aable.

  Mance, sitting with other Free Folk disguised as performers, also noticed the otion at Jon's table, which had bee livelier thahose he king.

  "Leave them be; it's none of our ," Mance said, though his panions seemed more focused on drinking southerhan anything else. However, Maook a moment to g the table, the younger man ughing and talking animatedly.

  Then, Maiced something that uled him. The stranger with the exotic appearaurned his gaze toward them, scrutinizing each of them before log eyes with Mance himself. It was as if he was silently toying with them, his expression gleaming with amusement.

  'He knows!' Mance couldn't help but feel a pang of panic as the stranger returned his attention to his table, making more ents that elicited ughter from the crowd.

  'Am I losing my mind?' Mance wondered briefly, dismissing the idea that a random stranger who had just arrived could possibly know who he was. Shaking his head, he tried to push the thought away, though his wary gaze lingered on the man at the other table, unnoticed by his panions.

  The impact reverberated once again as Jon smmed his beer mug against the table, and the chatter at the table gave way to ughter and urmurs. Even the southern meraries, drawn by the otion, subtly joihe growing crowd around the table as Jon spoke and drank with the men.

  "Listen well, panions!" Jon excimed, his deep voice resonating sly it carried a anding tone across the room. "Tonight isn't just for the lords and kings of this hall but also for us—the men who keep this world standing while they drink wine and maintain their dull versations full of 'my lords,' 'your majesties,' and the like!" he decred.

  The guards and meraries erupted in cheers and ughter, banging their own mugs against the table. Jon was treading on dangerous ground by mog the nobility, but he was among the lower social ranks here, and no one minded poking fun at the aristocracy.

  "Don't fet 'My Lady!'" another man mocked, sending the crowd into fits of ughter.

  "Hahaha! 'My lord, please honor me with your enormous dick!'" a merary began to act out, drawing r ughter from everyone.

  "Hey, you!!!" someone shouted, grabbing their attention as they turoward the source of the interruption. Jon stood at the ter of the otion with his cup freshly refilled by someo the table.

  The room fell silent as a man with the emblem of some southern house—one Jon didn't reize—stood, clearly displeased. "I've been hearing your filthy talk," the man said, trying to sound eloquent. "If you keep speaking of noblewomen in such a manner, you'll face my sword!"

  "Look!" Jon's voice cut through the silence, drawing the attention baself as he began walking toward the man, eared to be a knight. "We have a defender of dies!" Jon's voied, eg across that part of the hall as everyone remained quiet for a moment.

  "Why isn't anyone g for the defender of dies? e on, cp!" Jon demanded, his tone almost anding, and the crowd obeyed, g mogly in front of the knight.

  "Now, shout with me: 'Defender of dies!'" Jon ordered.

  "Defender of dies!" the crowd roared in unison.

  "Are you mog me?!" the knight quickly realized he was being ridiculed by this strange man, with everyone ughing and shouting.

  "Yes, I am. And what are you going to do about it? e at me with your sword—I dare you. It might just be the st thing you do in your life," Jon said, stepping closer until he was face-to-face with the knight, fearless, as everyoched the iion. The crowd was surprised at how boldly this bard challenged a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.

  "You!!!" The knight was ready to punch him but paused when he looked into Jon's eyes. It wasn't just their unusual color but the burniermination and challehey radiated. The knight faltered, questioning whether he was imagining things as a sense of fear crept over him.

  "..." Jon simply stared at him, the tension growing as the room held its breath, waiting to see if a fight was about to break out.

  "..." The knight hesitated, torn. He was afraid but unwilling to back down, knowing it would forever tarnish his reputation—a knight's honor ofte more than his life.

  "Let's get out of here, Lifel," someone said, pg a hand on the knight's shoulder. The voice beloo a man in a Lannister uniform who shook his head at the situation. Meanwhile, Jon tio stare at the knight with an amused expression.

  The knight, identified as Lifel, nodded relutly, gring at Jon with pure hatred. "You'll pay for this!" he spat.

  Jon merely regarded the threat as hollow, watg the two walk away. The knight's fear was so evident that Jon could practically see the sweat dripping from his face.

  Jon turned back to the crowd, now staring at him in silehe room filled only with the faint hum of other versations and the bards' musi the background. He smiled and raised his mug high. "Looks like the defender of dies has left! Now we tinue!" he excimed, fshing a charismatic grin.

  "OHHHH!!!!" Everyone shouted, bursting into ughter, finding the whole thing wildly eaining.

  "Man, you're really strange, Dovahkiin. You made that knight crap his pants! How did you do that?" one of the Stark guards excimed, amazed at how Jon had practically chased the knight away after he dared to disrupt their fun.

  "Keep yaze locked on them, as if you're about to drive a sword through their heart. Works every time," Jon remarked casually, taking another sip of his drink.

  "Hahaha, I've never heard of that one!" a merary said, ughing crudely.

  "Hello, sir… would you like more beer?" a serving girl approached timidly, her eyes fixed on Jon's, clearly nervous as she addressed him.

  "Hm? Oh, thank you," Jon replied, accepting her offer without paying much attention to her.

  "Someoaking a woman to bed tonight!" the meraries began shouting, teasing Jon about how much attention he was drawing from the women in the room. The serving girl turned bright red and scurried off, though Jon didn't seem particurly ied. He just ughed along with the men.

  "What's going ohere?" Queen Cersei's voice cut through the hall. She had noticed the otion after Jon's altercation with the knight, the uproar loud enough to draw the entire hall's attention for the first time.

  "Who knows, womahe men shout and drink—it's a feast, after all!" Robert Baratheon responded dryly, his voice impatient as he tinued smag the backside of a serving girl passing near his table.

  "..." Cersei gred at him in anger but said nothing further, while Catelyn Stark focused on tending to her child.

  "Things seem lively over there. Perhaps I should join them…" Tyrion Lannister murmured at his table, eyeing the crowd gathering at the back of the hall. He was seated with a few panions, including Sandor "The Hound" Clegane, who was eating and drinking quietly, as stoic as ever.

  "They do seem to be having fuhere. Shame it's just a bunen…" Theon Greyjoy ented from the table of young nobles, gng toward the rowdy er.

  Robb Stark and the others didn't seem particurly ied, but Mance Rayder couldn't help but let his cautious gaze drift back to the stranger who was now creating more of a stir than anyone else in the hall. More and more people were gathering around Jon's table as he stirred up the crowd even further.

  "He certainly knows how to make a southeruck his tail," one of the Free Folk muttered with a hint of respect, having watched Jon face down the knight and send him running.

  Meanwhile, Jon tinued riling up the crowd, aware of the many eyes now on him. Among them was his uncle, who had turned his attention to the uproar, w what was happening back there.

  "Hey, Dovahkiin! How about a drinking test? Think you beat a northerner?!" someone shouted.

  "Of course. Hey, miss, bring more beer over here," Jon called to another serving girl, who blushed shyly before hurrying off to fetch more from the sto.

  It didn't take long for her and a few others to return, carrying armfuls of drinks to the table and spreading them out.

  "Damn, with this handsome guy here, we won't be running out of beer anytime soon! Hahaha!" a merary ughed, notig how eager the serving girls were to please Joe Lord Stark's order to ration the flow of drinks.

  "Let's go then! Don't lose too badly," Jon said to his challenger as the petition began, the two of them quickly downing mug after mug.

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  "Go! Go!"

  The crowd ted in unison, their cheers so loud they drowned out the bard's musice again, the entire hall turs attention to the back table, now overrun with rowdy men shouting and drinking.

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