"Jon Snow"

"John!"

A voice shouted. It was immature, but strangely authoritive. The speaker sounded young, maybe 13 or 14, but his accent was off. It didn't sound American, more British, but not the normal type he was used to. It wasn't common to meet a British person on the west coast. Since he felt something was wrong, he ignored the voice, wrapped his blanket closer to his body and pretended to be asleep.

"John!" The person said. "You need to wake up! The king's going to arrive soon! My mother has already called for you. You better not be late!"

The person standing outside the door knocked on it a few times before leaving. Once the sound of footsteps finally disappeared, he opened his eyes and sat up in the bed.

He sat there for a few minutes thinking to himself.

King, British, my mother, John.

John, or Jon? 

Is that possible?

"Jon" got up from the bed he woke up in, and walked up to the full body mirror hanging in the corner of the room. The direwolf patterns that were carved into his bedframe were off-putting, and the small flag gutted into the wall startled him, but he held onto hope. Unfortunately, staring back at him in the mirror was what he wanted to see the least, a young boy, age 14, with light gray eyes.

Jon Snow.

His clothes looked medieval, like what a person from the 21st century would think a medieval peasant would wear. The cotton shirt and pants he wore were thin, clean and white. Almost like clothes a hospital patient would wear. Compared to the clothes he was used to wearing, Jon felt like he was naked.

Jon stood in front of the mirror for a few more minutes, wondering what was best for him. In the end, he decided it was best to get ready and go outside. Hopefully everything was just a dream and none of this was real. But just in case it was...well, he was fucked if it was.

There should be an armor set around here somewhere. I doubt Catelyn would appreciate her husband's bastard wearing formal clothing, especially in the presence of a king.

Jon was supposedly trained by the knights of Winterfell, but he didn't look like he was. He was scrawny and somewhat short. His arms were small and disproportionately sized between his left and right arm. His left forearm was only two thirds of his right forearm in size and his hands didn't have any callouses. Jon Snow didn't fit the image of a rugged bastard knight that he had in his head.

This really is disappointing...

Eventually Jon found the armor set that belonged to him piled up in the back of the room next to a rack of clothing. It looked like a kid's Halloween costume. The suit was separated into seven parts, the helm, the chest plate, the two arms, the two legs, and the torso. The large pieces of smooth steel were chunky and loosely held together with straps of leather that were meant to be tied together.

Jon lifted one of the leg pieces and immediately felt his arm buckle. The singular leg piece probably wasn't more than fifteen pounds but it felt extremely heavy to him.

Why is it so heavy?

A bright flash forced him to look away, and he heard another voice.

[Heavy Castle Steel Armor]

[Equipment Type: Armor]

[Medium Quality: No Debuffs]

[Effects: Provides 5 Armor, -10% Evasion]

[Description: A set of armor forged by Mikken, the blacksmith of Winterfell.]

[Equip] [Stash]

What?

Jon stood there for a few seconds just staring at the glowing screen in front of him. It looked exactly like a videogame screen. It was transparent and floated in the air just like a hologram. The narrating voice wasn't robotic like he expected but majestic and mystical like that of a fantasy wizard.

In his disbelief Jon could only think one thought.

Equip.

Jon watched the armor set on the floor disappear and reappear over his body. In just two seconds he was coated, head to toe, in plated steel. Although his body was suddenly being pulled down by fifty pounds Jon felt a rush of adrenaline.

He reached down and touched the sword laying against the wall. It wasn't an actual sword. It was small, made of wood, and covered in some sort of cloth, probably to prevent him from harming himself, but Jon didn't care. The second he touched it the screen flashed again and he smiled for the first time since he woke up.

[Blunt Practice Sword]

[Equipment Type: Weapon]

[Poor Quality: -5% Accuracy]

[Effects: Provides 1 Strength]

[Description: A weapon made and modified for practice by Ser Rodrik Cassel, Master-At-Arms of Winterfell.]

[Equip] [Stash]

Equip.

Unlike the suit, the sword didn't appear in his hand like he expected, but in a sheath hanging from his torso. It seemed like he didn't actually need to hold a weapon for it to be equipped. Regardless, Jon knew what this was. For some reason he had a system. Not only had he awoken as a fictional character, he had a video game system.

This is ridiculous.

[Jon Snow]

[Level 1: 0/100]

[Background: Bastard]

[Magic: Empty]

[Skills: Empty]

[Traits: Empty]

[Companion: Ghost (Direwolf)]

The most immediate thing that stood out to him was one tab, magic. In the world of ASOIAF, magic was mysterious and usually tied to religion or mystical creatures like dragons. If he could learn how to use magic...

My life would become so much easier.

The other thing that grabbed his attention was the only other tab not completely blank, his background. Jon pressed his finger against the small tab and a new window popped up.

[Background: Bastard]

[Effects: Increases Effects Of All Physical Skills And Traits By 10%]

[Description: Bastards are stronger than others due to their tough upbringing.]

Well, at least there was one good thing that came from being the illegitimate bastard of a lord. Reading the effect, Jon knew what he had to focus on. Magic was one thing, but immediate strength was necessary, especially in a world with dragons, demons and eldtrich gods.

But how do I learn skills?

Jon kept tapping on the other tabs, but nothing else popped out. There didn't seem to be a save file, settings, or an exit button. There was only a minimize button that shrunk the screen and let him move it out of the way. Other than that, Jon had no way to interact with the system.

Whatever. I'll figure that out later I can't waste my time right now.

He had already heard the noise of people talking outside for multiple minutes now. If didn't go out soon then people might genuinely get upset with him.

Jon turned back to the mirror and had one final look at himself. He looked awkward, wearing such a heavy suit of armor while having such a small physique, but it was probably the best option. He didn't really remember what people wore in the books, they were far too detailed and had too many words to describe simple garments and dresses. But if anyone looked at him funny he'd just go stand next to Ser Rodrik and pretend he was his squire or something.

Jon Snow walked over to the door, albeit with some difficulty, and opened it. He was immediately hit with a strong cold wind and regretted waking up. Jon hated the cold more than anything. At this point he made up his mind that he would never go to the Wall. Unless it was literal life or death that was not an option.

Walking through Winterfell was a different experience for Jon. It was surprisingly large, although that might have been because he was stuck in the form of a child and not an adult. It couldn't compare to the streets of Los Angeles or New York but it was very "magical." It had a sense of uniqueness that made it feel like a real castle, unlike the empty and souless preserved castles of Europe that he had visited back on Earth. Winterfell was definitely smaller, but it felt more alive, even without many of the people present.

Jon walked through the courtyard, it wasn't much, just an empty green plane. It seemed like people had hurriedly cleaned and cut it since the grass was uniform to a certain length, definitely a difficult task without a lawnmower. Everyone had already gathered at the edge of the courtyard, just before the gate of Winterfell. Jon couldn't tell anyone apart from the back but he recognized people of different professions.

The people in suits of armor similar to his own were probably knights or men-at-arms that belonged to Winterfell. The people in ordinary clothing were probably just the regular workers of Winterfell, chefs, maids, and barbs. These people swarmed around a smaller group of people, likely his family.

Jon slowly walked up to them. Although it was cold, walking with fifty pounds of weight made him sweat a bit so it wasn't too bad. By the time he managed to shove his way into the group to reach the Stark family, a rider came through the gate.

"Lord Stark." He said. "King Robert will be arriving in just a few minutes."

A man of average height with long brown hair nodded. He wore heavy fur clothing, with bands of silver dangling from his neck, ankles, knees and arms. The house sigil of the Starks, a grey direwolf, was woven into the back of his outfit.

"Very well, return back with their party and make sure nothing happens to them. I don't want any trouble happening now of all times."

He sounded very tired, and Jon saw a red haired woman, likely Catelyn Tully, wrap her arms around his and lean into his chest.

"Don't worry dear, I'm sure everything will be fine. The king travels with a party in the hundreds, nothing will happen to him, or his children."

"It's not Robert I'm worried about." He didn't say it loudly, but Jon heard him. And he knew what he meant.

Queen Cersei might be a problem if I end up going to court in King's Landing.

The Lannisters would be a problem, especially the Queen and her twin brother. What they would do to Bran, his younger brother, was preventable, but Jon didn't know if he wanted to prevent it. As far as he was concerned, the greatest threat to his life was his own family for one simple reason. He wasn't the real Jon. He didn't act like him, talk like him, or like the same things he did.

What would happen once the Stark family figured out that "Jon" wasn't actually Jon? He had no idea, so why risk it? It was probably better if he slowly picked off the people closest to the original Jon while avoiding interaction with anyone that knew him. That might seem difficult but it was very easy.

As of the current moment, all of the Starks were alive and well. But in a few days Bran would become crippled, after him would be the death of Eddard, after him would be the death of Robb, along with his mother, and all of the other children would be runaways or hostages. If Jon didn't interfere at all, then this would all likely happen again due to the influence of Little Finger. For now, Jon didn't plan to do anything. All he wanted to do was sit in a corner and watch everyone else kill themselves.

Jon didn't have any grand aspirations. As far as he was concerned, the commodities in this world were shit. What was the point of being a lord if you couldn't protect yourself from basic sicknesses? What was the point of being a famous warrior if a single bad infection from fighting could kill you?

Jon didn't want to stay in this world. He wanted to leave, and he'd do anything to do so.