Chapter 1

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving Winterfell bathed in the soft glow of torchlight. The ancient stronghold of House Stark stood resolute against the encroaching darkness, its grey stone walls a bulwark against the harsh realities of the North. On this particular evening, the castle buzzed with an unusual energy - Lord Eddard Stark had called for a feast to celebrate the successful harvest, a rare moment of joy before the long winter ahead.

As revelers made their way through the courtyard towards the Great Hall, two guards stood at their post near the Hunter's Gate, their breath visible in the crisp night air. Alyn, a grizzled veteran of countless patrols, leaned against his spear, his eyes heavy with the fatigue of a long day's watch.

"Seven hells, Wyll," he grumbled to his younger companion. "I'd give my left nut to be in that hall right now, instead of freezing our arses off out here."

Wyll, barely a man grown with peach fuzz on his chin, shifted nervously from foot to foot. "Aye, but duty's duty. Besides, Cook promised to save us some scraps."

Their idle chatter was abruptly cut short by a commotion from beyond the gate. The sound of running feet, ragged breathing, and... was that cursing? The two guards exchanged a quick glance before readying their weapons, all traces of weariness forgotten.

"Who goes there?" Alyn called out, his voice gruff with authority. "State your business!"

The response they received was unlike anything they could have anticipated. A figure burst through the gate with inhuman speed, barely slowing as it barreled past the stunned guards. In the brief moment it took for Alyn and Wyll to process what they'd seen, they caught a glimpse of a man clad in strange, form-fitting green garments, adorned with gold stars.

"What in the name of the old gods and new was that?" Wyll gasped, his young face pale with shock.

Alyn, already sprinting after the intruder, shouted back, "Sound the alarm, boy! We've got an intruder in the castle!"

The courtyard erupted into chaos as Soldier Boy, still disoriented from his sudden arrival in this strange world, darted between startled servants and guests. His enhanced senses were overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of medieval life - the pungent odor of livestock, the crackling of torches, the coarse fabrics of the clothing around him. It was like being dropped into the middle of the world's most immersive Renaissance Faire, except these people weren't acting.

"Okay, okay," he muttered to himself, dodging a pair of wide-eyed stable boys. "Get it together, Benny. Find someone in charge and figure out what the fuck is going on."

His internal monologue was interrupted by shouts from behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, Soldier Boy saw a group of guards giving chase, their armor clanking as they ran. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he couldn't help but grin. This was more like it - a little action to get the blood pumping.

"Come on, boys!" he called back, effortlessly vaulting over a cart laden with firewood. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to catch America's favorite hero!"

His taunt, incomprehensible as it was to his pursuers, only seemed to enrage them further. More guards joined the chase, emerging from various parts of the castle, drawn by the commotion.

As Soldier Boy approached the center of the courtyard, he spotted a large building that seemed to be the source of music and laughter - the Great Hall, he surmised. If he was going to find someone in charge, that seemed like the place to start.

With a burst of superhuman speed, he sprinted towards the hall's entrance. The guards at the door, caught off guard by his sudden appearance, barely had time to raise their weapons before Soldier Boy was upon them. With casual ease, he disarmed the first guard, sending his spear clattering across the flagstones.

"Sorry about this, fellas," Soldier Boy quipped, dodging a clumsy sword thrust from the second guard. "But I've got a party to crash."

With that, he gripped the massive oak doors and, with a flex of his enhanced muscles, threw them open. The hinges groaned in protest, and the sound of revelry within the hall abruptly ceased as all eyes turned to the strange intruder.

Soldier Boy stood framed in the doorway, his green suit and well-groomed appearance a stark contrast to the medieval setting around him. For a moment, the hall was silent, hundreds of eyes fixed upon this bizarre apparition. Then, chaos erupted.

Lords and ladies gasped in shock, servants dropped trays of food and drink, and guardsmen scrambled to protect their lieges. At the high table, Lord Eddard Stark rose to his feet, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.

Soldier Boy, never one to waste a dramatic entrance, strode confidently into the hall, his cocky grin firmly in place despite the weapons now pointed in his direction.

"Uh...," he drawled, his voice carrying easily over the din. "Looks like I crashed one hell of a party. Don't suppose any of you fine folks could tell me where the hell I am?"

As the guards who had been chasing him burst into the hall, panting and wild-eyed, Soldier Boy knew that things were about to get very interesting indeed. Whatever this place was, wherever he had landed, one thing was certain - Westeros had no idea what had just arrived on its doorstep.

The feast to celebrate the harvest had suddenly become the stage for an encounter that would change the fate of the Seven Kingdoms forever.