[Chapter Size: 1800 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
Near the entrance at the back, Jon finally stepped into the hall, passing by several people without noticing his blood uncle who walked right past him. His thoughts were preoccupied with finally being back in those halls as he took in all the excitent, sothing he had never witnessed before.
Not that he had participated in the grand feasts at Winterfell during his childhood. Celebrations like the Harvest Feast were events he was excluded from, as Lady Stark always kept him away from the main hall. She didn't want the northern nobles to compare him to Robb Stark, as Jon bore a much stronger resemblance to the Stark coloring than Robb.
He only took part in smaller gatherings, usually when one or two nobles visited Winterfell. However, on those occasions, he was always placed among the servants, in a corner where no one would notice him, while the Stark family hosted their guests at the main table as usual. As a child, he rembered how much that saddened him, but now he thought it was silly, even if it was natural for a child in his circumstances to feel that way.
Now, he found himself at a feast unlike anything he had experienced before in these halls. Not that he hadn't attended grand events – the celebrations in Skyrim or other regions of Tamriel were larger and more extravagant than this. Not to ntion the feast in the Hall of Heroes, a place from another world for the Nords of Skyrim, Sovngarde, where there was endless food and drink for the great warriors of the past, who celebrated and battled for eternity, living solely for pleasure.
He had been there without dying, to speak with ancient Dragonborns who helped him defeat Alduin, the World-Eater – but that was a story for another ti.
For now, he focused on what he was seeing. Jon looked ahead and observed his forr family after so many years. He stopped in the middle of the hall, indifferent to everything else, just to look at them. He began by gazing at the main table, where he noticed the King of Westeros seated.
It was a fat man, leering at so serving girls while drinking, eating, and laughing at everything.
"What a disappointnt." Those were the first words to leave his mouth as he looked at the man he had wanted to kill when he ca to this world. Was this what the king had beco? Jon felt so embarrassed that he even lost the desire to kill him in a duel. It would be a disgrace to himself; dueling a drunken, fat man was certainly beneath him.
Next to him was the queen, and beside her sat soone Jon imdiately recognized the mont he laid eyes on her. He could see Catelyn Stark. The woman had aged eight years since the last ti he had seen her. There were so differences, but not many, and the sa stern expression remained as she tried to converse with the queen, who appeared quite arrogant.
There was also a child with her – the child looked about two years old, which made Jon raise an eyebrow. It seed Lady Stark was still giving children to his uncle.
His gaze moved across the other tables, and he saw Robb near the high table, easily recognizable by his red hair and easy smile as he talked. Robb was speaking with Theon Greyjoy, soone who had arrived at Winterfell shortly before Jon left. Theon looked the sa as ever. It seed that being among wolves hadn't stopped him from behaving like a squid, as Jon rembered.
He also spotted Sansa at another table, surrounded by friends, chatting and sneaking glances toward the high table where the prince was seated. From what Jon could tell, the boy resembled the queen quite a bit, though he bore no resemblance to the king, and he dressed in a way befitting the status Jon assud he held. There were two younger siblings with him, but the prince seed the most arrogant, just as Jon had heard.
It appeared the royal family brought by Robert included only his wife and these three children, and none of the king's brothers were present.
His gaze also fell upon the royal guards. He recognized one of them as Jai Lannister, fad for his swordsmanship. Jai kept a firm gaze and held his sword as if constantly searching for any threat. He didn't notice Jon watching him. On the other side of the table, in a similar position, stood Barristan Selmy, the legendary warrior who had fought in countless battles and was currently the greatest living knight in Westeros. He appeared far more imposing and skilled than anyone Westeros could typically produce.
Jon's analytical gaze seed to awaken so sense in Barristan, who noticed him from across the hall. The knight's eyes t Jon's, and for a few monts, Jon held the stare, keeping his expression neutral. Barristan seed to be trying to figure out who this stranger was, but from the distance, he couldn't discern many details of Jon's features.
After a mont, Jon averted his gaze. There was no reason to keep staring at Barristan. There were other people and situations to observe.
Then, his eyes fell upon a girl in a corner, who looked entirely Stark. She was being restrained by a few n after apparently being punished. It was Arya Stark, who had been only three years old when Jon left. Perhaps she wouldn't even rember him. After all, who rembers soone after eight years?
Returning his attention to the table where Robb sat, Jon noticed other young northern nobles nearby. Bran was also there, and he must have been around a year old when Jon disappeared. Back then, Jon rembered seeing Bran in Lady Stark's arms. Now, it felt strange to see him grown, just like all the other children of Ned who were present there. Jon wasn't sure if there were more children, but he doubted it, as no other young person seed to wear Stark colors or have the Stark-Tully appearance.
As he observed, he noticed a figure moving toward the main table. His gaze followed the movent and landed on his beloved uncle, who was walking to the king's side, exchanging a few words with him. Jon analyzed the man's features. He didn't seem to have aged much more, but the weariness was evident.
Dealing with the king appeared to be exhausting. The disappointnt in Lord Stark's eyes was plain to see, almost making Jon laugh. However, he restrained himself, choosing to keep watching instead. The mont to approach and speak with his uncle would co, but not now.
Suddenly, his uncle lifted his head and locked eyes with him across the hall, near the door. Jon held the stare without looking away, analyzing the man who now kept his own gaze fixed on him. From the distance, his uncle might not be able to see him clearly. Naturally, Jon allowed a smile to escape, but it wasn't one of joy or longing. It seed more like bitter irony than a happy reunion.
"Hey, what are you looking at? Smiling at the queen, are you? You're a fool if you're doing that."
The voice ca from his side, as the guard who had escorted him there called out again. The man had been walking when he noticed Jon standing in the middle of the hall and had returned to fetch him.
Jon turned, still smiling, and replied calmly, "Sorry about that. But the queen is certainly a beauty."
The man's eyes widened. "Man, don't say that out loud! If one of the Lannisters hears you, you'll definitely have problems."
Jon found the warning amusing but simply nodded. "All right. Looks like I've wasted enough ti here. Let's move on."
The guard nodded in agreent and led him toward a table where so n were seated. Jon followed while still glancing around the hall, analyzing the figures around him.
There were many other nobles, both from the North and the South, as far as he could tell, most of them unknown to him. Jon paid them little attention and simply followed the man to a more isolated table.
"Hey! You're here, finally, you fool! You almost missed all the drink. Gobbi's about to finish it all! I thought you'd lost a leg, you took so long!" one of the n exclaid, mocking the guard who had accompanied Jon.
"Not at all. I found this guy outside. He's a bard or sothing like that. Seems interesting. You all should talk to him," the man who had brought Jon said.
The man moved to the table, sitting in an empty chair, and gestured for Jon to take another seat beside him. Jon complied, sitting under the curious stares of everyone at the table as they turned their attention to him.
"Who are you? A bard? You don't look like one," one of the n asked, frowning. Jon looked far too muscular to be an artist.
"Appearances can be deceiving, my friend. Yes, I am a bard, and my na is Dovahkiin," Jon said, leaving everyone surprised as they turned to the guard who had brought him.
The guard grinned at his companions. "I know, his na's strange, but he's not from around here. He cos from a place far away. Claims it's farther than the known world, lands beyond where Essos could reach... During his journey, he arrived in the North just over two moons ago," the man explained, leaving everyone even more astonished.
"You could say that," Jon said, smiling. "And, from what I can see, you all look like Northerners."
"The sa could be said of you, stranger. You seem very familiar, but your purple eyes say otherwise. How old are you?" one of them asked, curious and slightly tipsy, his voice rising slightly.
"I'm 20 years old," Jon replied.
"Still a boy. Tell , have you ever killed anyone?" another one asked, bursting into laughter.
"Yes, far more than I'd like," Jon answered calmly. "But yes, I've killed."
"Well, then, the boy's a man! Take this, drink!" they said, handing him a cup of drink.
Jon accepted it, holding the cup and drinking, savoring the taste of the Northern brew. It was certainly much better than what he had drunk beyond the Wall, which was essentially a disgusting fernted milk that Tormund always offered. But out there, they had no other option—otherwise, it was frozen water.
Here, however, he could finally enjoy himself. As he drank, everyone laughed and quickly started including him in their camaraderie. Jon raised his tankard and slamd it against the table with force.
"Well, looks like the night's going to be lively. This is going to be a lot of fun," Jon said with a grin, as everyone around him laughed and seed excited.
He wanted to stir up the night and enjoy the banquet for the first ti in this world since he had returned, ironically, in his forr ho.
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