A/N: So this is my first time actually publishing a fic up. To set the stage, Jon Snow's real name is Jaemon Targaryen. He is named after three men: Aemon Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen, and Torrhen Stark. Lord Eddard Stark did not hide the secret of his birth from Lady Catelyn, instead, the two, along with a very-much-alive Ser Arthur Dayne, decided to pass the babe off as the illegitimate child of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. This would explain his Valyrian eyes. The full tale of the Tower of Joy will be explained later. Don't worry guys, Dany will be make an appearance in the next chapter more than likely. This chapter is basically setting the stage for the rest of the tale. Please let me know what you think! Suggestions are always appreciated!

*Disclaimer*

*All characters, locations, and storylines are from the brilliant George R. R. Martin, I own nothing, and this tale is merely the what-if of a bored fan*

Chapter 1

Winterfell, 298 AC

An icy wind whistled through the remains of a castle, its walls crumbling and black with soot. Ice and fire warred within its ancient confines, marring the ruins even more so than they had been. Overhead, the cries of some unknown beast echoed fiercely, loud enough to shake the mortar binding the remaining bricks to one another. The shadow of a man fell across dirty snow. He had no idea where he was, yet the building was eerily reminiscent, and he couldn't help but feel that he had been there before.

The man walked out of the castle and was met with a field covered in corpses. Men in the colors of his house, others that weren't, wolves the size of horses, stags, manticores, lions, and even a handful of giants that had fallen by their beloved mammoths. One shape caught his eye, larger than the rest, a scaled nightmare lay surrounded by fire and ice. Slowly he trudged through the mud and blood, a tugging in his navel pulling him closer and closer to what could only be a dragon. But weren't those dead? The last died off in the Dragon Pits outside of the Red Keep? Apparently not, he mused, if one was lying in the snow then they certainly weren't in the South, where it was always summer.

He approached the beast, the tugging growing more insistent, like his spirit was waiting for something. With trembling hands, he reached forward, making to touch the side of the dragon. The moment his hands met the creatures scaled side, he froze, terror creeping in. By the Gods, it's still alive! And alive it was, for no sooner had he come to this realization than the beast raised its head and, with a single look, opened its maw, teeth longer than a man's forearm gleaming with blood. Seven Hells I'm a dead man. And so, he closed his eyes, waiting for the rush of pain that would signal his death. Seconds felt like an eternity while the young man trembled before a creature older than time. Why wasn't he dead? He should really probably be dead now.

Opening his eyes, he saw the dragon giving him an amused look, or as much of one as a dragon could give. The dragon seemed to come to a decision about something and beckoned him closer, and carefully lifting its wing. Just as he caught sight of a bundle behind the appendage, a roar pierced the air as a lioness came, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaped onto the dragon's neck. "No!" His screams echoed through the air as darkness closed in.

"Jon, wake up! The King is arriving later today! We have to get ready!" The shout of his cousin caused Jon to wake up, panting and covered in sweat. He had been having the same dream for the last month, a dragon on the field of a battle surrounded by dead enemies outside of a ruined keep. It was easy enough to figure out what the dragon and other creatures meant. Jon had always kept a journal to write his dreams in, going back later to sort them out and what they could mean. With one like this, Jon had been poring over the book incessantly, picking apart any details that stood out. A battle was coming, one that would involve almost all of the houses in Westeros and even the Free Folk out in the Gift. The why's, how's, and most importantly, the when's, were unknown, and it was driving the young man spare.

With a groan, he got up and made his way over to wear a pale of water and a cloth were waiting. He made quick work of cleaning up, making sure that he wouldn't smell when the Baratheon's and Lannister's arrived. Lady Catelyn would lose it if any of us weren't looking proper and clean for the Fat King. While he and Lady Catelyn did not always see eye to eye, he adored his aunt. She had treated him like one of her own after the death of his parents and for that Jon would always be grateful. Pulling a tunic and leathers on, the raven-haired man made his way out of his room and through the stone halls of Winterfell. He knew that there was much to do, even by the nephew of the castle's Lord, but he wanted to check on Ghost first.

The albino direwolf was not kept in the kennels of Winterfell, but rather, the Wolf Den in the Godswood. His pup lived there with the rest of the Stark pack, protected by the North and the Old Gods. The direwolves were believed to be extinct, legends told by grandmothers to scare troublesome children, but those in the North knew better. The wolves of Winterfell were the last free pack of direwolves left beyond the Wall. They had been there before the First Men journeyed to Westeros and it was said that they were the real reason that Bran the Builder laid the foundations for Winterfell there. Whatever the case, the Starks had always protected the pack, bonding with a wolf using their warging abilities to create a mental and spiritual link between man and beast. Together, the pair became nearly one, their thoughts and powers shared in a channel open only to them.

Their connection with the direwolves is what helped secure the Starks has the Kings of Winter for thousands of years, until the arrival of Aegon the Conqueror during the reign of Torrhen Stark. Jon's pup was not even a full month old yet, still nursing off his mother, Ned Stark's wolf, Shaelin. As he walked into the Godswood, Jon immediately felt comfort wash over him. The Old Gods were strong in the North, but especially so in Winterfell. The Heart Tree was in the center of the Godswood, next to a dark pool that no one had ever been able to swim to the bottom of. I remember when Theon tried to convince Sansa that a Kraken lived in the pool. Though with how deep it is, what lies in it is anyone's guess. The still water was pitch black, seeming to absorb all of the light around it. As a child, it had frightened Jon, but with age came the realization that it only dark because of the depth, not because of some evil presence.

He came out of his revelry when a wolf that was as tall as he was walked out of the brush, it's fur silver and grey. So, the pup returns. The voice echoed in Jon's head, teasing. "Visenya, you know I'm not a pup anymore, I'm seven and ten, a man grown," he reminded her. You will always be a pup to me, little one. Her voice was sadder, taking a wistful quality. I remember the day your mother and I bonded. Lyanna was so excited, so sure of me, of our bond. The only other time she was ever that excited was when we found out that she was expecting you, my pup. And there is so much of her in you. She would be proud to be your mother, Jae. Jon felt the sting of salt as tears rolled down his face, unbidden. His mother, Lyanna Targaryen, the lost princess that had died to see him live. The entire realm believed her a victim of Rhaegar Targaryen, kidnapped and raped, the martyr for Robert's Rebellion. How wrong they were, Jon mused. She had died for love, to see her son live when his parents could not. There was no rape, no kidnapping. They were the lies of man that couldn't handle being rejected.

He heard Visenya growl and shook himself out of his thoughts. You were zoning out again, Jaemon. Do not dwell of the mistakes of men, remember, but do not dwell. Nodding his head in agreement, the two continued to talk as they made their way to the Den. Other direwolves greeted them as they grew closer to Shaelin and her pups. Seeing Ghost always bolstered his mood, the pup's playfulness a welcomed reprieve from the outside world. Born the runt, the pack and the Starks had worked extra hard to see the albino direwolf grow healthy and hale. Now he was the same size as the largest in the litter, Robb's pup Greywind, and everyone was relieved.

The ball of white fluff bounded over, tongue lolling with a huge grin that he reserved just for Jon. Even though Ghost wouldn't be old enough to talk to anyone for a few more months, he had learned to use his facial expressions and body language to get his point across. The two played for a while before Jon had to leave. The King should be arriving at any time now and he needed to make sure that Arya and Bran were present. His cousins were almost impossible to handle, only listening to Jon and their father.

Jon found them easily enough, they were hiding in his room of all places, talking about the king's coming. Grinning to himself, Jon had to remind them to get ready. "Remember that no one is to know about the Inner City, even if you make friends with Prince Tommen or Princess Myrcella. The Inner City is a Winterfell secret. No one since Aegon the Conqueror has ever seen it, and it must stay that way throughout this visit. Do you understand?" The twin terrors acquiesced, murmuring choruses of, "Yes, Jon. Of course, Jae."

Together, the three raced over to where the rest of the Starks and household were waiting. Jon released a sigh of relief when Catelyn gave him a look of thanks at seeing Arya clean for once. From his position next to Theon, Jon could not see when exactly the King's company entered the keep, but he could certainly hear them. The horses whinnied and snorted while hounds barked. Laughter echoed throughout the grounds as Robert was helped off of his horse and greeted Lord Eddard Stark. "Ned, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you!" the king bellowed. "And you've gotten fatter than the cows over in the Reach, your grace." Ned's comment caused everyone to freeze, not a sound made until Robert released a humungous laugh, slapping his friend on the back in delight.

Turning his attention elsewhere, the King greeted each member of Lord Stark's family, pausing at Arya. "You look exactly like your Aunt, my dear Lyanna, before that dragonscum, Rhaegar Targaryen took her away from me." Jon didn't know what Robert meant by that comment, what sympathy he thought to gain, but it didn't work. Anger for the man burned deep in his belly, and Theon nonchalantly grabbed his wrist. "You need to calm down, Jae." The King didn't know that Lyanna had a son and Winterfell wanted it to stay that way. If Robert found out, he would hunt Jon to the ends of the world, not satisfied until he was dead at his feet. It gave him pleasure though, to see that he was not the only one deeply unsettled by King Robert's words. All around him, the staff of Winterfell murmured restlessly, eyeing Robert with distaste. He heard more than one servant say that they were going to keep a close eye on Arya, and keep the King away from her. Good, that fat Usurper better not touch a single hair on Arya's head. She isn't Lyanna and the King is married but that didn't seem to matter to Robert, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by.

When the King demanded to see Lyanna's tomb Jon nearly lost it, only keeping himself in check when Theon gave him another pointed look. Damn Robert Baratheon. The man knew that his actions led to the war that took away three Starks and the most-suited candidate for King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ever since that day, the kingdoms had been in unrest as Robert drank and whored the land into crippling debt. Jon was shaken out of his thoughts when Theon tugged his sleeve, indicating that the meet and greet was over. Thank the Old Gods and the New for that. They made their way over to where Robb was currently speaking to a young boy with coal-black hair. Prince Tommen? His thoughts were confirmed as Robb noticed his two friends standing nearby and called them over. "Theon, Jon, come meet Prince Tommen. He wanted to know a few pointers about swordsmanship." The prince looked very nervous, wringing his hands together and barely keeping eye contact for extended periods. You would think that a prince would have more confidence. Theon and Robb seemed to be of the same opinion as they looked at one another.

Theon broke the ice, stepping forward and doing introductions. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince Tommen. I am Theon Greyjoy, of the Iron Islands, ward of Lord Eddard Stark. My gloomy friend over here is Jon Snow, the bastard of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne." The boy smiled shyly before saying, "You can call me Tommen, if that's ok, the prince thing is way too formal for me." Theon smiled. "Ok, we'll do that as long as you're ok with calling us Robb, Theon, and Jon. Is that alright with you?" Jon had only seen Theon this gentle when the youngest three Starks were babes. He had almost forgotten that the Iron Born had such a caring side to him. "I'd like that very much, Theon!" Tommen exclaimed. It would seem that the young prince's nerves had been seemingly forgotten in the face of kindness. Hmm. Something isn't right about that. No, I'm just being paranoid with the King around for the foreseeable future. Still, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind Tommen's strange behavior.

End of Chapter 1