A/N: HOWDY! I'm finally BAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK! And I thought I'd play the Game of Thrones. Excuse the pun. I've also played the first season of Telltale's Game of Thrones, and that lent me some fine ideas to the part, although I wasn't pleased with the ending by any means.

Looking forward to season two soon, and the SIXTH season of GOT in April! WHO'S EXCITED FOR IT?! ME!

Anywho, this is my first attempt at a crossover of the like, so please be nice! Aye, and Naruto's surname here is INTENTIONAL, its one he chose for himself, and it hints at his character here quite a bit.

Which brings us to the next item of business. This Naruto, well, he's not a dunce, thanks to his upbringing.

He might be a tad dense when it comes to the fairer sex at times, but when it comes to everything else, he's sharp as a valyrian steel sword. The pointy end. Speaking of which! As to the name of a certain blade in this story, well, I suppose ya'll just have to wait and see if our favorite blond's wielding the genuine article, or has he merely named it such? Now...

...here goes nothing! One last question; should I include the Forresters in this? Let me know in the reviews and comments!

"Chaos is a ladder, my dear boy.

Many who try to climb it fail and never get to try again.

The fall breaks them.

Some are given a chance to climb, but they refuse.

They cling to the realm or the gods or love.

Illusions.

Only the ladder is real.

The climb is all there is. But you...

...you're still climbing, aren't you?"

"Ever higher."

~Littlefinger and ?

Game

A wise man once told me to always keep my foes confused.

He said that if your enemies are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot possibly know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Strange words. Wise words-ones I instantly took to heart. Perhaps, had he known at the time who, or rather WHAT I was, he wouldn't have gifted me with such sage advice. Alas, advice was given and avice me he did. From those fateful words a boy died, and in his place a man was born.

Think on this, for a moment if you will.

Fires rage and fires burn. Like people.

Sometimes they flare up. They go out, just as quickly.

And sometimes...

...sometime the smallest spark can start a fire that will smolder, burn bright even in the darkest winter. But enough about words and flames. You're probably wondering who I am, and what in the seven hells I'm talking about. The answer, well, that might surprise you. I go by many names, these days. Many titles, and I hate the blasted things:

I am a shadow.

A ghost.

What men fear most.

I am truth.

Fright.

A whisper in the night.

That last gasp before cold steel opens your throat.

I am a Fox Amongst Wolves.

Ward to Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Friend to Jon Snow. Sworn-brother and protector to Robb and all the Stark children. I am a simple man; I don't put much stock in faith or fate, or any of that nonsense. I protect my kith and my kin, what's mine and mine alone. I do my best to protect them-sometimes from their enemies, other times themselves. No matter the cost.

My name is Naruto Foxflame, first of my name. Wielder of Frostmourne. Knife of Winterfell. Death in the shadows. I have walked on water as though it t'were land. Scaled walls with nothing but my own two legs. Seen dragons come back into this world and fought the undead. I have slain folk both fair and foul in the name of my family, without ever being asked to do so. I have committed terrible atrocities, done unspeakable things, things that would make the mad king seem pale by comparison. All for their sake.

Because I am not the hero of this story.

I'm not even the villain.

I'm just...me.

Frankly, I'm not even sure of that, sometimes.

What am I?

Man?

Beast?

Something in between?

I'm still figuring that out.

But to truly understand what I'm talking about, to know my story, the tale of Westeros, the Iron Throne and the conflict that changed it forevermore, you have to go back...

...back to the beginning.

Then, you have to play the game.

The only one that matters.

A Game of Thrones.

(...Many Years Earlier...)

At long last, the sealing had been completed.

Minato Namikaze looked down at his son, his child-his heir!-fighting to keep the smile on his face as blood seeped out of the corners of his mouth. His wife Kushina was in front of him, as they both had been pierced in the stomach protecting their son from one of the Kyuubi's claws. His wife had been shedding tears for their progeny, his name stitched ever-so-lovingly into the blankets covering him. They coud not however, stifle his cries.

Minato couldn't help but feel guilty at what he had done to his baby boy. He knew some people may dislike him, but he believed they would see him as the little hero he was. He had to. He must. To think otherwise was to die with regret and that was something he dare not do.

In a way, this killed two birds with one stone by turning his son into a Jinchuuriki; he protected his village with one hand and gave his son a power to help fight against the masked man that had wrought this horrible fate with another.

Then, something strange occurred.

Naruto, poor, little Naruto, was surrounded by a strange, swirling vortex and disappeared. Just like that. There was no warning-no precedent-no other explanation for this sudden phenomenon. His son, and the blankets swadling him on the altar, were suddenly gone in a burst of golden energy, leaving nothing but empty air behind.

Shock filled both parents' faces as they cried out for him, but their bodies fell lifeless and listless; their souls going to the shinigami before they even struck the ground. Their last breath was their son's name.

"Naruto!"

(...)

From his perch in the treeline, Obito stifled a furious shout.

Damnitall!

His lone arm clenched and unclenched, fingers knotting against his palm with enough force to draw blood beneath the glove. It had all gone wrong. Wrong, wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongwrong! He wanted to shout; to spit and snarl shriek and scream, but he held his silence. Something had gone wrong. Someone-something!-had interfered with him! He'd heard a woman's voice, a cheeky,"Ohhh, I don't think so!" whispered in his ear-and then everything had been taken from him, his plot dismantled at the very last instant.

AGAIN!

Having made one last, desperate attempt to take the Kyuubi-rather, the host-he knew the fault lay with him, regardless of the unexpected interference. Furious with his old teacher, he had tried to grab the boy with his dojutsu and failed; his injuries and the outside intervention proving too much for him to properly grab hold of the whelp for anything more than a split second. Spirits, he didn't even know where he was. He wasn't even entirely certain what'd happened. And if his mistake had somehow meddled with the seal, bungled it, somehow...released that energy...

Who knew where the boy might end up?

(...)

The Kyuubi yowled at its new confines and slammed against its cage in anger. It too realized that something was wrong, and with every fiber of its being it fought to escape the strange fate befalling it. Jaws snapped at the bars of its cage, claws clanking harshly, but to no avail.

It suddenly felt its power being drained, just as its Yin half had been. But this was no mere sapping of its strength. And it did not cease.

"NO!" it roared as its chakra was ripped from it, its body becoming little mor than a shriveled version of itself.

Upon the lock of the cage, the piece of paper with the kanji for seal on it flew off and a spiral lock replaced it, closing tightly.

The large mass of chakra flew through the tiny boy's body and lit it a shining golden white.

Changing it.

Altering its very form.

Then they were flung, boy and fox both...

...somewhere else.

(...)

If there was a rock, Winterfell was it.

For years upon years in countless millennia, it had withstood the test of time, weathering winter and summer both. Armies had broken like water upon the walls of this castle in decades past and not once, not a once had this formidable fort been taken. Against this impregnable fortress only the elements prevailed. Sometimes, not even atop several hot springs which provide the castle with warmth even in the worst winters, long has it hosted the Starks and their descendants.

Indeed this castle had taken all comers, not just those men, but that of the world as well. And it would endure many more yet.

For it is here that the next leg of our journey unfolds.

(...)

Sparks splayed across the horizon.

Dark clouds gathered amidst darker skies, as though all heaven and earth were holding council. Waiting, for this very moment. For a moment the world held its breath, warding off the dawn. At this high altitude no one noticed the tiny swirl of new reality etching itself into the sky. Perhaps had anyone been watching they might have seen the clouds wither away, watched the sky warp...

...and vanish.

Red light resolved itself into a single point and shot downward, slamming towards the unsuspecting earth below.

To Winterfell.

With a deafening crrrraaaaaaaaack of a sound,that "something" thudded into existence well withing the courtyard. The entire world seemed to start in surprise, then hold its collective breath. Silence fell. No words were needed, no thoughts shared between the moon and the stars as they gazed down upon the world; as the castle denizens below scrambled outside to see what could've caused such a commotion.

And then from that smoke, a single, tremulous cry arose.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaah!"

An infant's wail stabbed into the silence of the night like an arrow through the heart, sharp and piercing. The noise carried across the castle, a sound so piercing that it pierced the catacombs below and the towers above them And in one of those very towers, in a room higher than all the rest, something stirred.

Someone.

The Lord and Lady of Winterfell were roused by the guards in short order and brought to the scene.

Lady Catelyn, still weary from being jolted out of bed, didn't get there first.

Eddard Stark did.

What he found there in the courtyard boggled the lord's mind. Just within the gates of their hold were still more of his men, circled around what appeared to be a strange indent in the ground. Drawing closer he realized it was a crater of some sort, still smoldering from impact. What was within the crater-doubtlessly the source of the noise-baffled him. It looked like...he didn't know what it looked like.

"What's going on here?" he demanded to know, approaching the scene.

"Careful, m'lord!" a guard cried as he neared the perimeter, "It might be witchery of some sort!"

Eddard Stark nudged the man aside. "I'll be the judge of that."

For Eddard Stark was not a superstitious sort and he did not fear whatever it was that had come into his keep.

What he saw there was no demon made of magic, no creature, not even a wilding from beyond the wall.

Instead, the Lord of Winterfell found himself staring at a tiny bundle of red cloth.

An infant, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

A boy.

Closer inspection revealed that it was no mere base bundle; there was something inside that delicate-looking cloth. Curious, he reached down and plucked it up off the snow, dusting it free of the wet slush. Almost immediately, a renewed wail sound vented from the parcel. "Waaaaaaaaaah!' Gods preserve me! Ned gasped, and were he any other man, he would've dropped the parcel right then and there and called for it to be burned. Ah, but he was a Stark, and nerves of steel enabled him to hold fast.

Catelyn finally arrived, huffing slightly at Ned's haste. Her confusion didn't last long when her husband turned to face her, presenting the offering in question. A quiet oath fled from his lips.

"Seven hells! Ned, what is that?!"

"See for yourself."

Catelyn's mouth opened in a small, round O as she saw the parcel. It wasn't some gift. It was a child. A mewling babe, only a few hours lold. Here. Out in the cold. That shouldn't be possible. No infant-much less a one that looked to be a newborn!- should be able to survive out in the cold beyond the threshold like this. They peered down at him in disbelief and amazement. How had he gotten here?

At that very moment the baby ceased its cries and opened its eyes.

Blue.

His tiny face, once scrunched in abject wailing, softened. A tiny hand reached out, wrapping itself around Ned's outstretched finger. Such strength! The Lord of Winterfell stared deep into those tiny blue eyes, marveling at them. Too blue. That was Ned's next thought as he stared down into those bright pools, squinting up from that whiskered face. He looked deeper and saw power. A power so terrible, that he could barely grasp at the enormity of it-and that frightened him. All that strength, made manifest in this child. This boy...what was he?

Something in his heart trembled, though he knew not why.

Their eyes fell to the words stitched into the cloth of his red blankets. Catelyn frowned thoughtfully to herself. Such a strange name. She'd never seen one like it before, not in all her years. She tried it out, sounding out the boy's name, rolling it on her tongue.

"Naruto."

The infant looked right back at him, sniffling softly. It was then, in that moment, that Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, knew he was lost. His wife must've seen the look in his eye, for she grew stone-faced and tried to shake him.

"Ned, you aren't thinking of...

By way of response-did this mewling babe actually UNDERSTAND him?-the boy smiled that same, toothless smile.

"Aye, I mean to. At least," he amended at her admonishing look, "Until the morn."

Nestled tightly in Ned's arms Naruto gurgled quietly, happily. Content.

He never left the next morning.

Nor the next.

Or any thereafter.

A/N: Yes, yes, I know, the timeline as to when this happens is a wee bit muddy; it'll be explained handily in the next chapter. Anyhow there we go! An infant Naruto in Game of thrones! One can only wonder what will happen. This is written for the indulgence of you, the fans, so by all means, tell me what ye want to happen! I don't guarantee a happy ending, but I do promise it to be an interesting one! And there's one character I can't WAIT to kill, though it may not be who you think...

So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly? Timeskip next chapter!

And the preview! I think we've all been hoping for this ever since we saw Ramsay...

(Preview)

Ramsay Snow frowned.

"That is a...lovely sword you've got there."

Naruto laughed softly. "Thanks."

"Wherever did you find it?"

"...don't want to know.

"..."

A beat of awkward silence passed between the two youths, broken only by the sounds of the forest. Ramsay couldn't stop looking at the sword. It was a great monster of a thing, almost as large as a bastard sword, but somehow even deadlier still. Glittering blue and black it seemed almost alive, shimmering in the wan light peeking through the trees. Part of him longed to reach out and touch the deadly blade-but another part recoiled at the eerie whispers that seemed resonate from the sword.

When its owner next spoke however, those words lacked their previous warmth; his voice was like iron from ice.

"So, you like torture, do you?"

Ramsay Snow paused abruptly, a twig cracking loudly beneath his boot. Swinging a scowl at the blond's back didn't produce so much as a twitch. His hunting partner didn't so much as look at him, instead his azure gaze remained rooted on the stag ahead. Fixed on the prize deer, the elusive creature they'd spent most of the morn tracking. Was that a smile, he saw? Was it his imagination? The boy was a guest on their lands as were the Starks-a guest, and yet, he couldn't help but feel as if he were the guest here, in these woods.

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about."

"I often enjoy a spot of it myself with evening tea." The blond confessed ably, plucking an arrow out of his quiver and setting it expertly against the string. "The difference between you and I however, is that I only deal pain to those deserving it."

'I should stick that sword in his back!'

Barely restraining the vicious impulse, Bolton's son feigned indifference, palming the hilt of his blade. "Is there a point, here?"

"You raped and killed that lowborn girl last night." Naruto replied, drawing the string back. "You think no one heard you, but I did. I always hear. She begged you for mercy, and you laughed as you flayed her open. I'm not the sort to tolerate that."

Pearly white teeth gritted together, exasperated.

"You can't prove anything, you know."

Naruto finally looked at him, then.

Ramsay wished he hadn't.

Because those blue eyes were dark, darker than the blackest pit in the Dreadfort.

"Can't I?" the words were a glacial hiss.

Snarling, Ramsay swung!

R&R~!