The wolf Awakens

In his short life, Jon never had been this much distressed. He indeed lived in the cold, unforgiving North, but life had been great for him. Father who cares for him, siblings who love him (well, there is Sansa, but what can you do). He knew that he was different from his brothers and sisters. Lady Stark had been very clear in that aspect. Jon still remembered that one time when Father – Lord Stark wasn't present at Winterfell, and he got scared on a particularly stormy night. He woke up from his sleep by the sounds of thunderclaps. He ran from his room and without realizing anything, he reached the Lord's room and banged on the door. An irate Lady Stark opened the door only to have the winds knocked out of her by a whimpering Jon Snow clashing to her middle, muttering mournfully "Mama, I don't like these sounds!"

Lady Catelyn wrenched herself free from his grasp and grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him to his room. She threw him on his bed and turned on her heels to leave. Before slamming the door shut, she told him in a voice as hard as cold steel, "Learn one thing very clearly, Bastard, I. Am. Not. Your. Mother!"

Four years old Jon didn't know what it means to be a bastard. However, from then on, he started to pick up that very word from conversations all around him. Things that he previously overlooked had made it glaringly impossible for him to ignore further. Disdain from various household staff, mainly those who were part of the retinue of Lady Stark that came from Riverrun, the mocking tones of Septa Mordane, the difference in the lessons he took along with Robb from Maester Luwin, even in the practice yard where Ser Rodrick always eager to answer the questions of Robb at the expense of sometimes completely ignoring Jon's presence. Sansa, who used to follow them everywhere, one day stopped altogether to acknowledge Jon. When he asked her the reason, she primly told him, "You are a bastard. A lady like me shouldn't be associating with someone like you!" Normally sullen and quiet Jon had withdrawn more onto himself. Yet, he still had Robb and Arya by his side…and Bran and Baby Rickon.

His closeness with Robb came to a sudden uncertainty when Lord Stark brought Theon Greyjoy home as a ward by the end of Greyjoy rebellion. Five years older Theon was someone much more fascinating to Robb than the often quiet Jon. Theon with his fancy speech and flamboyant behaviour had soon captured Robb's attention that he started to ignore Jon. Robb once vehemently reminded Jon that as he is a bastard, he can never be the Lord of Winterfell. Afterwards, he apologized to him and thence, somewhat ignored Jon's bastard status. Theon had taken an instant dislike of Jon soon after being introduced to him. With a sneer painted on his face, he muttered "Bastard." Robb, who was standing nearby, heard him but didn't say anything to discourage him. Jon had shrugged off the insult for Robb's sake.

Jon knew there will always be a distance between him and Robb as he is the heir. But at one place he was determined to be better than Robb, and that was the practice yard. He was better than Robb at wielding a sword. Robb, who was slightly taller and bigger than him, had always preferred the use of strength. Whereas Jon was much quicker. He preferred to use speed to dispatch his opponent than Robb's way of bashing them relentlessly. In technicality, Jon was a tad better than Robb at their age, but he used to suppress his skill and often let Robb win in their spars in fear of attracting more tirades of Lady Stark.

That morning, during their usual sparring session, Jon had Robb on the backfoot. The spectators were cheering them both on, Jon's senses were on high alert. He could point out where each individual was standing in the yard. He even could tell that the Lord and Lady Stark were standing on the balcony overlooking the practice yard and watching them spar. That realization jolted him, he toned down his attacks on Robb, and predictably, Robb disarmed him in the following two strikes. The yard broke into applauds and the watchers cheered for Robb. When the din was dying down, Theon's mocking voice rose above "Hah, the bastard wished himself to be Ser Arthur!"

Jon was used to the mocking of Theon, he didn't reply. Instead, he proffered his hand to Robb, "Good bout, Stark."

He expected a hearty laugh with a shake of hands and a slap on the back. But this time, Robb had a sneer worthy of Theon on his face and said, "You were not even a challenge, Snow."

Whatever good feeling Jon had in his chest at that moment, completely died down. He took a look at the balcony where the Lord and Lady still stood. Lady Stark had a beaming smile on her face, whereas Lord Stark was as stoic as ever. Not even a reproachful look for his son. Jon mustered his features and put on a blank face, "Then I'll strive to be better, milord, to provide you a challenge."

He bowed to him and turned around to go to the armoury to put away his practice blade and armour. He didn't see the horrified look on Robb's face when the realization hit him for what he just said to his brother and the tone he used.

Godswood always calmed him whenever his mind was in turmoil. Jon kneeled before the Heart Tree to pray. His ardent wish was to find a place for himself. Where he can be more than a bastard, where no one will look down upon him or sneer at him for being the single most stain on his father's otherwise pristine reputation. He knew that he couldn't live at Winterfell for all his life, Lady Stark may tolerate him at this moment for his father's sake, but that can't be indefinite. He had to leave before he was thrown out. He and Robb are now ten years old. There may be some blissful childhood yet remain, but when Robb attains his majority and wed some highborn lady, his less than the precarious status of being the Bastard of Winterfell will be jeopardised even further. The Night's Watch could be an answer for Jon, their uncle Benjen was a Ranger of the Watch. But Jon is not naïve. People like Benjen who have volunteered to serve at the Watch were rather short in counting. Whatever prestige the Watch had, it had diminished more and more, and now it is nothing but a glorified penal colony for the dregs of the entire Westeros.

Jon touched the Hearts Tree, eyes closed, he muttered earnestly, "Please, show me the way! What am I to do?" Jon didn't expect any answer from the Gods, he knew he was nothing but a speck in their vast design of the world, so he was startled when the leaves started to blow in the non-existing wind. It sounded like a murmur at first, but it became louder with time.

"Crypt! The Crypt!"

Jon scrambled back on his haunches, mouth agape. Did it really happen? Did the Gods answer him truly?

The leaves ruffled once more, "Visit The Crypt!"

Jon got to his feet and ran out of the Godswood! He didn't stop till he was in his room and barred the door. Heart pounding, he sat on his bed. Do the Gods want him to visit the Crypt? Why? What possible answer could be there for his future?

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Sleep eluded Jon that night. He was tossing and turning on the bed but couldn't shrug off the bizarre experience he had that afternoon. He was solemn and withdrawn more than usual throughout the supper. Robb thought it was due to his ill-thought taunts at the yard earlier. He tried to apologize to Jon, but he was too distracted to even notice what Robb was saying. He didn't even hear when Lord Stark asked him something. Arya's swift kick to the shin brought him to the real world.

"What!?" He asked disgruntled to her.

"Father asked you something, stupid." Her cheeky reply and due admonishment of Lady Stark followed.

"I am sorry, milord, I was not paying attention." He apologized.

"We can see that. What has you thinking so hard?" Ned asked curiously.

"Only something Maester Luwin said during our lessons, milord. I am still trying to find the right way to answer his query."

Theon snorted from further down the table, "A true scholar you are. Trying to forge your links, are you, Maester Snow?"

"That's enough, Theon." Lord Stark chided, looking back at Jon, peering earnestly at him he asked, "Are you having troubles with your lessons?"

"No, Lord Stark, not troubles per se, it is just the way the Maester teaches us. He makes us think about our answers in more depth before we provide them." Robb nodded in affirmation.

Ned kept looking at Jon's eyes, "If you are sure…"

Jon gulped, he had a feeling that Lord Stark knew that he wasn't being truthful, "I am, milord, I want to make you and the Maester proud."

Lady Stark's derisive snort could be heard. Ned nodded at Jon's reply, "I am glad that you are taking your lessons seriously."

Jon let out an inaudible sigh thinking that he dodged the danger for the time being. He excused himself from the table and got up to go to his room. Robb followed him quickly.

"Jon, would you wait for just a bloody moment?"

"What do you want, Robb?"

Robb appeared red in the face, he stood before Jon scuffing the stone with the toe of his boot, "I am sorry for what I said earlier, I wasn't thinking straight…you know, blood rushing high and all…"

Jon looked genuinely bewildered, "What are you talking about, Stark?"

Robb looked up, frowning he replied, "At the yard, after our bout…when you congratulated me after my win…"

"Oh." Jon had completely forgotten about that. Now he realized why his brother was acting weird, "OH!"

"Oh!?" Robb said incredulously, "That's all you have to say?"

Jon sighed. "Listen, Robb, I really forgot all about that! Truly, you have nothing to be sorry about. I know I would've said something inappropriate in your shoes, what with all those people cheering and applauding. Forget it, brother. I didn't mind anything."

Robb was dumbstruck, "But you looked so…"

"What? Handsome? Aye, I am. Thank you for finally admitting it, brother."

Robb snorted, "I wouldn't use the word 'handsome', but pretty, aye, pretty as a maid. You should ask Sansa for some of her lace to tie your pretty maid hair."

Jon puffed up in mock outrage, "You go too far, Stark. I will have my revenge, Ser. On the morrow, at the yard. I have to answer you for today also, haven't I?"

Robb chuckled, "In your dreams, Snow."

Jon laughed too, "Good night, brother, I better get on the quest of proper answer for Maester Luwin."

Robb hugged him one-armed, "See you on the morrow, brother."

Jon never felt so restless in his life. He couldn't lie still. Something was pricking at the back of his mind. An urge that he cannot put his finger at. Around the hour of the owl, he finally admitted defeat and got up from his bed. He started to pace around his room, trying to soothe his restless mind. Suddenly, the urge that was quite dormant till now surged forward, he felt a tug at the core of his being. Something was calling out for him. The more he tried to ignore it, the more intense and painful it became. He put on his cloak and boots and quietly got out of his room.

At this hour of the night, even the servants had gone to sleep. Only the guards patrol the boundary walls and the corridors. Jon knew how to evade the guards. Thanks to his adventures with Arya, he was quite adept at blending in the background. In the dark of the night, it became even easier. He tiptoed his way out of the keep, the tug made him make his way towards the entrance of the Crypt! He stood before the closed door and thought to go back to his room. But an invisible power made him unable to turn back. Letting out an explosive sigh, he picked up a nearby torch and gave in to the tug, with nary a sound the door opened.

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Generations of Starks were laid to rest in this crypt, Kings of Winter from ages-old are buried here. Their effigies were hewn from stone situated before their tombs. Stern, long-faced individuals sat on the Winter Throne with their blades across their lap and snarling dire wolves at their feet. Jon didn't even know any of them save a few, like his grandfather Lord Rickard Stark, his uncle Brandon Stark, and his aunt Lyanna. Many a night Jon spent right at the Crypt, laying by the feet of the effigy of Aunt Lyanna. After the Godswood, this is the only place where he can find a modicum of solace. No one knows about his ventures of the crypt during the night. Not even Arya. He felt right at home by her feet, the cold, hard, stone floor like a feather bed, the chilly wind like a warm embrace. He couldn't describe why he feels so, he just does. He stopped in front of Lyanna's statue and touched her cheek, drawing courage and inspiration from her. Jon asked for her blessing in his mind before venturing further down the Crypt. Onwards he went, the air became colder and heavy. He felt like he was intruding in a forbidden land. Something foreboding kept inciting the feeling that he didn't belong there, but a voice back in his mind, which he was almost sure belonged to his Aunt Lyanna, kept urging him to go forward. Jon gulped down the uneasiness and hardened his resolve, he continued with a sure gait.

After what felt like hours walking through the cold, dark Crypt, Jon had reached a dead-end. The stone wall that stood before him depicted scenes of old. Creation of the Wall, Winterfell's First Keep. A figure who Jon suspected to be Bran the Builder. Giants, mammoths, ice creatures, even White Walkers! It looked like Old Nan's stories are made pictures on this wall. Jon didn't know how long he stood before the wall looking at those pictures. It felt like they were trying to say something to him, but what it was, he couldn't understand. The tug was still urging him on as if whatever it is he was supposed to look for or find, was right behind this wall. But how to go on? Was there supposed to be a door there? Jon took the torch closer to the wall to inspect the pictures more thoroughly. There, right at the height of his head, a head of a dire wolf protruding outwards. The only anomaly among all the other pictures etched on the wall. He touched the wolf's head. It seemed to be loose, he pressed on harder. With a whooshing noise, the wolf head went into the wall. There was a low rumble, then a noise like stones grinding against each other began to sound. Little pieces of rocks shook loose from the ceiling, Jon raised his arms above his head for protection and darted his eyes for cover! Then suddenly, the wall started to rise upwards. Warm air blew through the cold crypt, and for the first time in his life, goosebumps appeared on Jon's skin due to warm air, not cold air.

Beyond the wall stood a cavernous room. The sound of Jon's footsteps echoed so loud that it almost made him cover his ears. Right in the middle of the room, there was a tomb. An effigy much larger than the other tombs in the crypt sat before the tomb. The man featured on the effigy was a stern and hard-looking Northerner. A giant dire wolf stood snarling at his feet, and a great sword lay across his lap. The eyes of the statue in the torchlight seemed to have come alive. They followed Jon's movement with each step that he took. He gulped down his nervousness and approached the tomb.

Jon didn't notice the alter right before the effigy. Of course, the sheer presence of the man didn't leave any scope to notice anything else. He almost tumbled over the alter by the time he reached the feet of the statue. On it, there was a pair of leather vambraces. The dust collected around the room proved that Jon was the first person to visit the room in over a hundred years, mayhaps even over thousands of years. Yet, the leather of those vambraces looked as if they were stitched just that day. The metal pieces still retained their polish. Jon felt as if he was under a spell, his body wasn't under his control anymore. His hands reached on their own accord and grabbed the armours, the leather felt soft under his fingers. He tugged up the sleeves of his tunic and put the bracers on. A blow of air both warm and cold swept through the room, swirling the dust around him. The bracers felt warm against his skin, effusing weird energy throughout his entire body. The flow of energy slowly started to feel painful, it brought Jon to his knees. There was a kind of ringing in his ears, he could hear the screaming of somebody, which, after a while, he realized was his own. Then as abruptly the pain began, it stopped altogether. Jon opened his eyes to rub away the tears that flowed abundantly. He didn't realize when he dropped the torch from his hand. It puttered out on the cold, dusty floor. Yet, he had no problem seeing. A greenish light seemed to have alighted around the room. He looked around for the source of the light but couldn't find anything. Then suddenly a translucent greenish screen appeared in front of his eyes, on it, letters in ruby red sparkled into life –

Welcome, Champion!

Jon didn't remember what happened after that.