Game of Dragonborn.

[Chapter Size: 2700 Words.]

Third Person POV.

Winterfell.

...

...

"This was so easy..." Jon's voice broke the silence as he looked down at the man who had attempted to duel him, now lying lifeless on the ground. Silence enveloped the training courtyard of Winterfell as everyone struggled to process what had just occurred. They had just witnessed a man throw a sword with such speed and precision that, upon striking his opponent, it pierced through armor and embedded itself directly into the heart.

It was something no one had ever seen before, nor could they have imagined possible, yet now they had seen it done by a man standing before their very eyes. Be it the king, the nobles, or even the assembled men and women of the crowd, all gazed in stunned disbelief. Some women immediately covered their eyes and screamed at the sight of the sword striking the knight, unable to look at the fallen man lying on the ground.

Sansa Stark was one of them. She had hoped to see the knight uphold justice against the man who had challenged the prince of Westeros, expecting a gallant fight where the knight would triumph, as in the stories she loved. But reality was crueler than she had imagined.

The gazes quickly shifted to Jon, one by one, filled with doubt and questions. "How did he do that? Who is he really?" In the end, no one could believe that a bard could wield a sword like that.

"Well," Jon said with a grin, ignoring the stares fixed on him. "I suppose since I've won, I won't be punished. But if you'd like to send someone else, go ahead. You can even pick a member of the Kingsguard."

He openly mocked, his eyes glancing at the prince, who was being tended to by the maester while the boy's mother, furious moments ago, now comforted him. Even they seemed stunned as they looked at Jon.

Joffrey, for his part, was incredulous. He had refused to go back inside the castle before the duel, eager to see the bard killed brutally by the knight. Now his eyes reflected pure shock and fear.

"Enough of this!" The king's thunderous voice cut through the murmurs of the crowd. "Damn it! How did you do that? I've never seen anything like it!" Robert Baratheon exclaimed, rising from his seat and glaring at Jon.

"It's not my preferred style of fighting, but it's effective for quickly dealing with overconfident men," Jon replied, almost as if mocking.

"That was anything but honorable." Ned Stark's voice sounded beside the king.

Jon raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by his uncle's reproachful tone. "We can't always get what we want, Lord Stark," he replied with a faint hint of irony.

"I don't know where you come from, but here in Westeros, we don't fight like that," Ned reprimanded again, his tone stern.

"Don't be such a bore, Ned! A fight is a fight. And I see nothing unfair when both start on equal footing," King Robert retorted, clearly less devoted to honor than the Lord of Winterfell.

But Jon seemed to ignore the king, keeping his gaze fixed on his uncle. He knew what Lord Stark had done in the past—killed an unarmed man after he had been stabbed in the back, like what had happened to Arthur Dayne. The irony was glaring, and Jon almost felt like throwing it in his uncle's face, but he restrained himself, settling for a mocking smile.

Ned, realizing it would be pointless to argue further, simply sighed and said nothing after hearing his friend. The king, meanwhile, turned his attention back to Jon, now wearing an expression that mixed fascination and curiosity.

"You fought well. I never thought I'd see something like that—someone killing another man by throwing a sword from such a distance. And with enough force to pierce through armor! I can't believe what my eyes just witnessed!" He paused before continuing. "Regardless, you are forgiven for your words, though I still don't care much for them or your attitude. I'd even knight you as one of the Seven Kingdoms' knights if you showed a bit more respect for me. Even so, I'd like to invite you to King's Landing. Your songs and even your skills would prove most... intriguing," Robert concluded.

"About that. I'll decline, King of Westeros," Jon said in an indifferent tone.

The king didn't seem too pleased with the response. "Very well," he said curtly.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll be heading to a tavern in Winterfell. After all, I need something to eat," Jon added, gesturing nonchalantly as he finished speaking.

Robert, irritated once again by Jon's attitude, merely waved him off. Though he disliked Jon's arrogance, there was nothing he could do—he recognized that the young man had the right to come and go as he pleased, and Jon could invoke trial by combat again if challenged.

Jon shrugged and walked away under the gaze of everyone present, heading calmly toward Winterfell's gate until he disappeared from sight.

Some time later, the king, his mood soured, exclaimed, "I'm in a foul mood! Bring me more drinks!"

The activity in the courtyard resumed, with training continuing, but nothing nearly as interesting as what they had just witnessed. The queen, furious that the bard had walked away unpunished, retreated into the castle with her injured son. Meanwhile, many in the courtyard remained deep in thought, murmuring about what they had just seen. Some even wondered aloud what might happen if Jaime Lannister were to fight Jon.

Meanwhile, Jon arrived at one of the city's taverns. He chose one that wasn't very busy, entered, and took a seat. It didn't take long for him to order something. Shortly after, someone approached him.

"You... are him?" A feminine voice said, sounding seductive.

Jon raised his eyes and saw a woman with red hair and light eyes, her slender and striking figure partially revealed despite the northern cold. Clearly, she was a prostitute—exactly why he had avoided the city's brothel to get something to eat.

"I'm not interested in your services," he replied, glancing at her for a moment before speaking in an indifferent tone. It didn't matter if she was a beautiful prostitute or not; Jon wasn't interested in such things.

The woman seemed a bit disappointed at his words but forced a smile. "Well... that's a shame, considering I wouldn't charge someone like you—mysterious and all, showing up at Winterfell's feast. They say you're even more handsome than Jaime Lannister, and the rumors were right..." she added, still attempting to seduce Jon.

Jon raised an eyebrow at her comment, intrigued by the kind of buzz his actions had created in less than a day, but he shrugged, showing his disinterest again moments later.

Receiving no response, the woman turned and left, realizing she wouldn't get anything from him, despite her genuine desire to sleep with the man everyone had been talking about, even without charging for her services.

Not long after, someone else approached his table.

"It's not every day you see a prostitute leave her brothel to find someone. I noticed her at the window watching you as you passed by, and she followed you here..." a familiar voice said.

Jon looked up to see Mance approaching. Mance stopped in front of him, his eyes still curious, and then sat across from Jon.

"Don't give me that look. You did the same thing our friend did yesterday," Mance commented with a laugh.

"Fair enough," Jon replied calmly before continuing. "As for the woman, I'm not interested. After all, I already have enough spearwives," he added with a small smile.

"Well, it's still hard to believe. Did you really steal women beyond the Wall?" Mance asked, pressing the issue with a curious expression.

"A girl from Tormund's tribe, Ygritte—kissed by fire with blue eyes; Craster's niece, Lucis, with black hair and blue eyes; and no less than your sister-in-law, Val. I don't need to describe her appearance, do I? Looks like we're part of the same family now," Jon said sarcastically.

"Well, that's something to think about. I doubt someone in my group will take kindly to this news," Mance responded, his tone calm. There was a man in his group—Jarl—who had an interest in Val, but he'd be disappointed to learn she had already been "stolen."

"Anyway, I want to know how things are beyond the Wall," Mance asked, and Jon nodded.

The conversation unfolded as Jon shared details about what he had seen beyond the Wall while his food arrived. They continued their discussion, as the quiet tavern provided an ideal setting for a private conversation—no bustling banquet to drown out their words. Unbeknownst to Mance, Jon had already dealt with potential eavesdroppers, ensuring their privacy.

Jon stayed there for some time, talking with Mance until late in the morning. He explained the situation at the Wall and beyond, providing details that made it clear he understood the challenges faced by the Free Folk as they marched toward the Wall.

By this point, Mance fully believed Jon. The information he shared was accurate, and Mance no longer saw him as an enemy, though he still regarded him with a measure of suspicion. After all, Jon had proven himself no ordinary man, even claiming the name Daemon of House Targaryen.

"I'll be heading beyond the Wall soon. I don't believe it's safe here," Mance said at the end of their conversation before asking Jon, "And you, what do you plan to do?"

"I'll stay in Winterfell a few more days. I need to investigate a few things, then I'll leave as well—though I might linger a bit," Jon replied. He had commitments beyond the Wall and planned to return to the Free Folk, determined to bring them safely to the southern side of the Wall.

Later, the two had lunch at the tavern. Afterward, Jon left under the curious gazes of the townspeople. Many had already heard rumors about the mysterious man who had appeared in Winterfell and what he had done that morning in front of the king and everyone else. His violet eyes, skill with both music and blades, had made him unforgettable.

After that, Jon disappeared, and three days passed with strange happenings unfolding. Though Jon was rarely seen now, rumors about him continued to spread.

"I heard he was in town last night, but he disappears like a ghost. Do you believe that?" a servant whispered in a corner of Winterfell's halls.

"Are you saying he's not real? That's impossible. To me, he seemed very real at the banquet," another replied.

"I know, but no one seems to get a clear look at him anymore. They say he was seen near the kennels two days ago, then vanished!" the first woman answered.

It had been three days since the events in the training yard. During that time, Jon appeared in different places, but never for long. Some people caught fleeting glimpses of him, while Queen Cersei desperately searched for him, seeking vengeance. Guards scoured the town and its surroundings, but no one could locate him entirely. Jon had become an even more mysterious figure, fueling the growing tales about him.

Since the day of the training yard incident, Lannister men had started turning up dead in Wintertown. Many believed it was Jon killing them, as the Lannisters were hunting him on the queen's orders. According to rumors, the prince's nose had been broken and wouldn't heal properly, further enraging the queen.

Meanwhile, the gossip continued. At a nearby table where the servants whispered, Tyrion was drinking.

"People have been talking a lot about that bard lately. I've heard some stories about him being a bloodthirsty killer every night... quite fascinating, really."

"I don't see what's so important about this man," Jaime muttered beside his brother that morning, clearly uninterested as he kept his usual bored expression.

"So tell me, dear brother," Tyrion mocked, "if you had fought him, would you have been able to stop that sword flying at you?" He asked, giving Jaime a sharp look. It was evident that not even he believed Jaime could handle such a situation, and silently, he was thankful the king hadn't sent his brother to fight.

"You underestimate me, Tyrion. I'm one of the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. I wouldn't lose," Jaime replied. But despite his confident tone, it didn't sound as firm as it should have. He tried to maintain his composure, but Tyrion noticed the hesitation. After all, no one truly knew how to deal with a sword coming straight for their heart—especially one capable of piercing iron armor.

"Anyway..." Tyrion decided to change the subject. "Did you notice that beds have started disappearing from many rooms? Even from our dear sister's. She's frustrated, though she doesn't even use that bed with her husband," Tyrion commented, his tone casual.

"They're mocking us," Jaime concluded, irritated. Beds were vanishing from rooms without explanation. "This must be the work of those Starks. They must be behind these disappearances."

The mystery of the missing beds was yet another rumor spreading through Winterfell, but the case of the queen's missing bed caused the most uproar. Jaime seemed convinced it was a direct provocation, given the Starks' dislike of the Lannisters. It felt like an insult, having their beds stolen.

At that same moment, Jon was also in Winterfell. He was in a room no one knew about—the king's own room. Robert, as per the queen's demand after his incessant dalliances with prostitutes and servants, slept separately from her. Jon held an intriguing letter he had intercepted before it reached the king's hands.

The message came directly from the Master of Whisperers and detailed movements of Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen. Jon read its contents carefully and murmured to himself, "It seems my time here is over. I'll head east to look into this." He concluded, noting that his aunt was either marrying or had already married.

Though his face remained calm, Jon felt a surge of anger as he read. The letter mentioned his uncle and aunt allying with the Dothraki, the barbarian horse-lords of the desert. "This makes no sense," he thought. "Selling your sister for an army of savages who won't even cross the sea? Something feels off about this..." He felt a wave of disappointment as he said this. He hadn't expected to find them under such circumstances.

Determined to see things for himself, Jon decided to finally leave Winterfell. He slipped discreetly out of the king's room without anyone noticing, moving through the corridors with the ease of someone who owned the place.

Lately, he had been stealing various items from Winterfell, including the missing beds. He had even taken the queen's bed—an effort to impress his spearwives by letting them sleep in a queen's bed. Lucis, in particular, would find it fascinating, as she had always been curious about life south of the Wall.

But Jon didn't head outside the castle just yet. He had one last matter to attend to before leaving. He made his way toward the solar where Lord Stark was having an argument with his wife. Using his heightened senses, Jon observed the scene from a distance. With his "magic eyes," he identified Ned Stark's robust silhouette and Catelyn's slimmer, more feminine figure as they argued.

Lord Stark had been trying to find him again, having issued an order to locate Jon. Recent murders and disappearances were being attributed to him. Though the rumors weren't entirely accurate, Jon had been silencing any Lannisters hunting him under the queen's orders.

The corridor leading to the solar was finally before him, and he saw the guards stationed at the door. "It's time to finally reveal who I am," Jon thought, a faint smile forming on his lips.

He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and began walking toward the solar, determined to face his uncle under his true name and share some very interesting revelations.

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