-Chapter 1-

-13th day of the 5th moon of the year 297-

My journey back went well, and in two months, I finally returned to my starting point, Winterfell, ancient, gloomy, and especially in ruins.

I spent a lot of time reflecting on what my real options were. I revisited all the possible options I had imagined many times, such as bringing my birth certificate to Dorne and marrying Princess Arianne Martell, or going to see the Black Widow Olenna and convincing her to bet all her chips on me. But in the end, I was and will remain Jon Snow until I have some power, and a mere birth certificate won't change that.

On the road leading to the castle, I encountered many inhabitants of Wintertown who gave me indifferent, even disdainful looks, and this intensified upon my arrival at the castle. I came across many people who whispered and mocked me upon seeing me.

I ignored them because, honestly, I no longer cared. I had endured their taunts, mockery, intimidation, and moral harassment all my life. Most of the time, everyone talked about the bastard who made life difficult for the honorable Stark family, and I was used to it.

I reached the doors of the great hall where everyone was gathered for supper, and I opened the doors wide, saying:

"Did you miss me?"

To my great surprise, I was welcomed quite well by everyone except for three people: Lady Catelyn, the squid, and Sansa, who took great pleasure in treating me like her servant ever since Septa Mordane explained to her how my birth was a sacrilege to the Seven Gods BLAH-BLAH-BLAH.

The quickest to reach me was Arya, who literally jumped over the table to hug me with the greatest strength her little nine-year-old arms could muster. A few seconds later, Rickon and Bran each hugged one of my legs. I hugged Arya with one arm and gave Robb a hug with the remaining arm.

"I know you all love me very much, but if you continue, I really won't be able to breathe," I said teasingly to my cousins who didn't want to let go of me.

"It's fine, even if you die, at least you'll stay in Winterfell," Arya said in a tiny voice.

"HAHAHAHAH"

"Hahahaha"

"Hahahahaha"

"Hahaha"

"hahahahaha"

We all burst into laughter, and after a few more moments of family cuddling, everyone let go of me except Arya, who didn't want to let go under any circumstances. She clung to me like a koala to its tree, and I had to carry her to my "Father".

I made a clumsy bow, given that Arya was still clinging to me, and I said:

"Lord Stark"

He was a bit surprised but said nothing. He just hugged me and then said:

"Come sit and eat with us, tell us about your journey to the Citadel."

I nodded and began to recount everything I had learned: the ridiculous robes, the city, and the encounters I had made. I tried to romanticize my story a bit because, in reality, apart from a few rare times when I went out so as not to collapse under the weight of all my studies, I had rarely enjoyed life in recent years.

The evening continued like this and quickly ended once Lady Catelyn decided it was too late for the children to listen to the bastard's words.

-2 months later-

Two months after my return, the deserter Will was finally captured, hahaha, I was finally going to meet Ghost.

Robb, Bran, Theon, and I accompanied my uncle to behead this poor unfortunate soul. Even though I knew he hadn't done anything really wrong, I said nothing. I wasn't a good samaritan, and my word had no value, so I observed everything coldly, silently reciting in my heart that I could be in his place if I lost the game.

After his execution, we came across a deer corpse, and further on, as in the original, we found the corpse of a giant wolf (Direwolf). We found five wolf cubs near the corpse of their mother trying to hide in a sort of burrow.

"It's a monster," Theon said, slightly scared.

"It's a direwolf," said my Uncle.

Ned removed the deer horn stuck in the wolf's body and approached to inspect it. In the meantime, Robb said:

"There are no direwolves south of the Wall."

"Now there are five," I said, picking up a cub. I handed one to Bran and said:

"Do you want to hold it?"

Bran nodded quickly, and I entrusted one of the cubs to Bran. Everyone exchanged looks, but no one dared to speak first, and Bran broke the awkward silence by saying:

"Where are they going to go? Their mother is dead."

"They have nothing to do here," said Jory Cassel, Rodrik's nephew, my trainer, and one of the few people who never discriminated against me based on my birth status.

"Better a quick death, without their mother, they won't survive," said my Uncle.

"Exactly, give it to me," said Theon, snatching the cub from Bran and drawing his dagger.

"No!" said Bran, ready to cry, but before Theon could reach Bran, I intervened and drew my own dagger.

Theon stopped, and I said:

"Give me a good reason, Squid."

"Sheath your sword," said Robb, trying to take our father's voice when he scolds us.

"You heard him, Squid," I said.

"I'm talking to you, Jon," said Robb.

"You heard your lord, Snow," he said, smiling with that smile I dreamed of stretching to his ears with my dagger.

I was a bit shocked and smiled before sheathing my dagger calmly. I grabbed two wolves from the litter and took them with me. I took a she-wolf and Ghost, who was hiding because I wanted them to breed and create a pack for my children or for people who would know how to tame them.

I left with my two wolves, letting them tear each other apart. After all, all this shit had nothing to do with me anymore. I was going to leave with the king's convoy for King's Landing and leave this shit behind me.

I waited for no one, and after saddling my horses, I returned to the castle alone. I had to harden my heart even more, anyway, the words of future dead people were absolutely worthless.

I went back and immediately isolated myself because now I could start executing my plan. I reviewed all my knowledge and perfected a ritual that I had already tested several years ago.

The ritual was simple. It required me to bind myself to an animal by letting my blood flow into its mouth and channeling my magic through it. It was an ancient blood magic ritual that I had improved to create another one. The old ritual required the sacrifice of a mage and an animal of the same species.

After performing this ritual, I heard a noise near my window, and I went to check. On the ledge was a bird, a magnificent eagle, and on its leg, a message.

"Jon Arryn is dead. The King is heading North. Expected Arrival in 1 month."

I smiled at the message from my master spy and said:

"Finally, the game begins."'