Rebirth

Dying in my sleep was not the fate I had anticipated. But waking up as a baby? That was beyond unexpected. As I opened my eyes, I saw a woman with auburn hair and blue eyes, presumably my mother, looking down at me. Glancing around, I noticed a man with distinct features: a long face, brown hair, and grey eyes. Whatever they were doing, I allowed them to continue; I lacked the energy to stay awake and drifted back to sleep.

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Five years later,

Reaching high places proved to be a challenge. However, dying in my sleep was even worse. The Red King must have found it amusing. I gazed at my reflection in the mirror while getting dressed. Although my hair remained brown, it had become more curly, and my once stark grey eyes had transformed into a shade of blue.

The Starks, once kings, had fallen from grace. A Crawen bastard named Torrhen Stark had surrendered without a fight. But that wasn't the worst of it. Brandon the Burner had cruelly burned the North's ships, and the Boltons were still alive. The subsequent generation of Starks was a disappointment, to say the least.

I had fought to protect the North, only to witness its decline at the hands of my own descendants. And then there was my foolish father, who missed the opportunity to seize the throne or even negotiate better conditions for our people. He didn't even bother requesting reduced taxes or lowered food prices. On top of that, he brought a bastard home. Anger simmered within me, but there was little I could do.

I was now Eddard Stark's second-born son, destined to inherit the lordship of Moat Cailin. My older brother, Robb Stark, was following in our father's footsteps. I scoffed at Eddard's honor, hoping that at least he had secured something for the North by aiding in the defeat of the Greyjoys.

I had already absorbed most of the Maester's teachings, except for history. However, I did learn about knighthood and southern tournaments, which could potentially provide a source of income. Lost in thoughts of my future plans, a knock on the door interrupted me.

"Come in," I called out. A young woman entered and bowed. "My lord, Lady Stark has summoned you to join her for breakfast in the great hall."

"Inform her that I will be there," I replied. She nodded and departed. I had heard that my mother's uncle, Brynden Tully, was a renowned knight. Perhaps I could persuade my mother to make him my squire.

With that in mind, I made my way to the hall. Entering the hall, my attention was immediately drawn to Catelyn, holding my newborn sister Arya in her arms, while Sansa sat beside her. I playfully ruffled Sansa's hair, causing Arya to squeal with delight. Then, I approached Catelyn and kissed her on the cheek. "You look as radiant as ever, mother," I remarked, taking my seat.

She chuckled. "Oh, you little charmer," she teased, smiling at me. I returned the smile. "Where is Robb?" I inquired. Catelyn's smile faltered, indicating that he was in the kitchen with the bastard. "I see," was all I could muster in response. "Eat quickly; you have lessons with the master-at-arms, and your father will be returning this evening. The Greyjoys have been defeated," she informed me. I nodded and began to eat.

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Standing before Robb, I gripped a sword and shield while Rodrick oversaw our sparring session. Catelyn, Sansa, and Arya watched from the sidelines, with Sansa cheering me on. Catelyn's support was less evident, but I knew I was her favorite child. Jon Snow, the silent supporter of Robb, was also present.

Rodrick signaled the start of the spar, and Robb wasted no time in launching an attack. Swiftly sidestepping, I aimed a slash at his left rib cage, which he managed to block with his shield. Feigning a thrust, I caught him off guard as he used his shield to defend against an attack that never came. Instead, I delivered a shield bash that sent him sprawling to the ground, sword pressed against his neck.

My height advantage, combined with a well-fed physique and prior knowledge of swordplay, gave me the upper hand. "Do you yield?" I asked Robb, to which he reluctantly nodded, growing increasingly frustrated with his continuous losses.

Sansa cheered and embraced me, and I returned the hug. "Don't become overconfident. There are still those who surpass you in skill," Rodrick cautioned, to which I simply nodded. Catelyn congratulated me while also acknowledging Robb's progress, despite it being abysmal. I excused myself to take a bath and wash away the sweat from our training session.

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In the evening, my family and I gathered at the entrance of Winterfell, eagerly awaiting Eddard Stark's return. Soon enough, he appeared on horseback, accompanied by a boy of nearly eight namedays riding behind him. Eddard dismounted and approached Catelyn, kissing her, although I paid little attention to their affectionate exchange. My focus was on the boy.

As Eddard stood beside me, I couldn't help but inquire, "Who is that?" Eddard replied, "He is Theon Greyjoy. He is to be my ward as ordered by the king." I snorted in response. "That's a fancy way of saying he's a hostage," I remarked before walking away. Catelyn looked shocked, and Sansa questioned her about the meaning of the word "hostage," while Eddard appeared uncomfortable. How did I know? Well, warging has its advantages.