Disclaimer- I do not own the characters or the world or anything of that sort, it belongs to GRRM and HBO…

Well after the shipwreck that was Season 8, I decided to read the books to get some semblance of mind, so I went and read it. Time-travel fic, I admit it's a clichéd shit story. Mostly canon but with 'some' deviations... This is my first GoT fanfic, so read at your own risk.

"Words" – Normal speech…

"Words" – Thoughts…

Winterfell was his home. Winterfell was his life, his uncle, his cousins were his family, the only family he had ever known. That's why he was going to save them all. This time he had a goal, a purpose, nothing would deter him from that goal.

In his last life, the Long Night came at the call of the Night King. The Seven Kingdoms were shattered by war and the realm wasn't even remotely ready for the White Walkers and their army of the dead. The dead swept the continent without effort, first the North, then the Neck, the Vale, the Riverlands, the Crownlands, the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the Reach and then finally Dorne.

The final battle of Winterfell was the realm's last collective stand against the Others. By the time the dead reached King's Landing, the army consisted of every person who had fought the dead. Cersei's Golden Company was completely overwhelmed without resistance. Euron Greyjoy's fleet was burned down by three undead dragons, then the Iron Islands was annihilated, so was Dragonstone, and every other Island nation burnt down to the ground. Then it spread, the White Walkers conquered the other continents, effortlessly, in fact, nothing stood a chance, not the faceless men, not the Red Priests, no Warlocks or Sorcerers. Soon the entire world was covered in darkness, in the unending night.

He survived, only he survived, he survived in a cave deep inside of Skane.

Bran is why he survived. Bran is why he got another chance. Bran had almost killed him when he warged into him right before dying by Night King's sword. Bran's lingering consciousness led him out of Winterfell at the last moment, the only reason he didn't immediately go mad was due to him being an untrained warg himself. Ghost, his faithful familiar had thrown itself into the wights and died to buy him the time he needed when he was mindlessly running through the crypts of Winterfell cutting down the dead as he moved through them. And crawling in through the collapsed secret underground passage that led him out of Winterfell, he rode to White Harbour and found himself a boat which he used to row himself to the uninhabited isle of Skane before the dead could reach the harbour. He reached Skane near-dead in thirst and fully mad.

It took him years inside the unending darkness of the Long Night at Skane to finally right the madness that had come with Bran's effort at warging into him. But once Bran's consciousness had faded away within him, he found the last remaining weirwood heart tree on the isle in a last-ditch effort to make things right. The last thing he remembered was his blood-covered hand clutching at the crying face of the weirwood heart tree.

Imagine his surprise when he woke up back at Winterfell on his sixth name day, all his life still fresh on his mind. It felt like a dream at first, but as with all dreams do, he didn't forget it as time passed by. The sheer detail and the terrifying things he had seen couldn't be something he made up, not in a dream, never in a thousand years. It took him some time to come to terms with the life-altering revelation and the fact that he was back in the beginning to correct things.

Coming back wasn't easy, he had to constantly fight the urge to tell everyone everything, but he knew that if he did, they would have deemed him insane and shipped him off somewhere, especially Lady Catelyn with her annoying hate towards him. Even if he could convince his uncle by telling him about his lineage, he would never agree with his plan unless he gave a solid reason for why it would work, that's why he had to prepare. Manipulation was never his strong suit, but he was going to try.

Coming back in time had several boons; he had years to train and the incentive to train harder. And he trained every day under Ser Cassel, much harder than ever before. He trained with a bow that he had made it by hand from the branch of the weirwood tree and with a battle-axe, a Warhammer and a sword. He wasn't one for spears, or hammers or axes or lances, but a sword and a bow he can wield.

Lady Catelyn had started hating him with an even more profound hate when he started surpassing Theon and Robb within a span of two years. It wasn't his fault that he had such an added incentive to train harder, even though Robb had tried to keep up for a while, Robb soon gave up. Robb had other lessons, being the heir of Lord Stark and the next Lord of Winterfell; he had lessons that involved politics and customs, while he had none of those to worry about, but he did try to spend some time in the Library tower, it didn't help much, not when he could remember all the things Bran saw and heard with his greensight.

Soon enough, Lady Catelyn had no longer wanted him to train with Robb and Theon under Ser Rodrick, the reason for it was simple, it came to a point when he could defeat Theon and Robb at training matches wielding a blunted sword in his left hand, that made it look like an insult. Although he was careful to never rub their faces in it or gloat, everyone knew that he was simply better at wielding a sword. Robb was very much accepting of his swordsmanship considering how Robb was significantly better than him at using a lance and in a joust, Theon, however, took it rather poorly. Things didn't help one bit that he soon started looking like the spitting image of Uncle Ned when Robb looked more like Lady Stark. Robb sympathised with him, and his uncle did try his hardest to convince Lady Cat otherwise, but he saved them the trouble and started training alone, outside the walls of Winterfell in the Wolfwood.

Honestly, it was a relief, he was never really comfortable with other people watching him train, while he was desensitized of it by experience, he never enjoyed the peering eyes, so training alone was very refreshing until his twelfth name day. His sudden growth spurt and his newly developed dual sword form brought about the attention of the guards on the walls of Winterfell and the giggling girls from winter town; they soon started following him around much to Theon's chagrin. It was that very same year that Mikken finally relented after six years of constant bothering, he finally allowed him to help him in the forge more than just bringing some coal, metal and water.

The best thing about training outside the walls of Winterfell was the fact that he could learn how to warg in peace. Even those annoying girls didn't follow him very deep into the Wolfwood. He started small with squirrels, then crows and other birds, soon he realised that it helped a great deal if he had a pre-existing bond with the animals. He found and rescued a Hawk nestling and grew it himself at home, as soon as it grew big and strong enough to fly, he warged into it.

Warging had its own merits outside the obvious, he realised that when he chose to acknowledge the effect rather than try to deny it. Not only did his mind affect Winter (Hawk) when he entered her skin, but her wild instincts affected him often even when not in her skin. Warging established a two-way bridge between consciousness. As a good side-effect, his senses had improved similar to a hawk's; he could always see fast objects much better even see farther, hear even the slightest flutter of sounds all around him and be able to distinguish it from friend to foe, and pick up scents much sharper, although he had to train his nose to adjust from being overwhelmed by strong stenches. That's one of the reasons why he tracked down Coldwind's hunting grounds and tamed it by warging into the mother Direwolf before it could be killed trying to hunt a stag. Coldwind was a shy Direwolf, it somehow made it past the Wall, through the underground passage that fed into the Nightfort, past the New Gift and stayed near the Long lake. With Coldwind's ability to isolate the scent she wanted to pick up and control it, by warging into her skin, he learned how to master his senses.

But even with the hours of training and warging, mastery didn't come easy. That was when Bran's faded consciousness within him had resurged, with his mind strengthening due to his skinchanging training, the greenseer's consciousness had grown strong enough to separate itself from him. He listened to Bran's suggestion and transferred Bran's mind into the weirwood tree. Now, he had Bran to help him with his plan on saving the world. Bran was the one who suggested chewing on weirwood seeds to improve his ability to warg.

He kept Coldwind a secret for months until one day a few guards riding in the Wolfswood noticed Coldwind lying on top him, licking his face, they mistook it as the wolf mauling him and had charged at her with swords in hand, she almost bit one of the guards' wrist off, until he had tackled them down and convince that the Direwolf was, in fact, his pet and not a threat.

The look on Lady Catelyn's face when she saw the giant Direwolf the size of a grown elk listening to him as it sat beside him in the courtyard as Uncle Ned kept trying to make sense of how he tamed it was gold. Soon there were six cubs, once the cubs had weaned, he took Ghost for himself and gave away the rest to Robb, Sansa, Bran, Arya and Rickon, although Coldwind often kept a close watch on all her pups, fussing them about with baths.

He also had a good relationship with all the guards at Winterfell; it was thanks to his binge drinking at the Smoking Log with them. Only ten-and-five of age, it was no secret that he could hold his drink better than most men. It was uncle Benjen's fault for introducing him to the bannermen at the alehouse after a rough day of public scolding from Lady Stark. The scolding came from an inane comment made by a guard who ran his mouth telling others that his skill with a sword could be the Dayne blood in him, implying that he was a product of Ned Stark and Ashara Dayne. Even, he had rolled his eyes at that, he wasn't good because of his blood; he was good because he trained four hours every day for nine years, shedding sweat, blood and time.

His speed with the sword was because he emulated Jaime Lannister's movements during training, his strength was because he worked on building strength so that one day, he can go toe to toe with the likes of Gregor Clegane. His skill was because of his experience fighting wars and not to mention Bran's memories of war through the ages. It wasn't because he was born special or due to some special blood. Even he knew that he could never match Clegane in strength, but if it can give him an edge in holding his own, that was better than nothing. He was very much aware that he could never match the speeds of Jaime Lannister or Arthur Dayne or Barristan Selmy, but if he could contend with them even for a few minutes, his training would be worth something. Maybe his blood and lineage could be said about magic because not everyone can warg and the blood of a Targaryen and a Stark was a potent mix, but being a swordsman was about the passion and effort one puts to train, even natural fighters have to train as hard as everyone.

In the nine years, he was back, several lords had come to Winterfell to meet his uncle, Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, Lord Manderly, with all of whom he had made quite an impression. Lord Umber kept saying that he was the spitting image of Brandon Stark, his uncle. He even had a crush on Alys Karstark last year, he remembered the girl in his past life, riding to Castle Black on a dying horse, requesting refuge from her granduncle Arnolf Karstark, who had planned on wedding Alys to his son Cregan. When she visited with her father last year, she had spent the whole time with Sansa and Jeyne gossiping about her crush on Robb, which kind of made him jealous, but he got over it fairly quickly. He reminded himself that he had a duty to the world, he would find a way to quickly unite the kingdom, and when the Long Night comes, he would be ready to face the Night King.

And now, he was finally here, where the first step of his plan was about to begin.

It wasn't unusual that Jon Snow leaving Winterfell for weeks at a time, everyone at Winterfell knew that he usually went hunting, and sometimes brought back full stags. Not to mention the giant Direwolf always following him around. However, going hunting without Coldwind was quite odd.

Three days it has been, three days he was waiting by one of the Sheepshead hills atop Weeping Water, for the right moment. And after the last twelve hours of anticipation, here it was, at long last, hidden between the dead grass and rocky terrain, perfectly camouflaged with the ash grey tunic he was wearing, he saw it. Ramsay and Reek mounted on their horses, five violent bitches on leashes barking and snarling at everything.

He wasn't surprised, this wasn't the first time he had watched the ugly bastard, Ramsay Snow, from afar on his usual hunting game. But this was going to be the last time because today Ramsay was going to die.

Ramsay unleashed the hounds, and the hungry beasts started picking the scent of his prey. The prey was a poor peasant girl barely past her flowering age, naked and shivering, hunkered down into a ball on the other bank of the ice-cold stream. The girl heard the hounds barking and panicked, she desperately tried to climb up the fairly steep hill.

Jon took out the arrows that he had made by hand, arrows that looked like wildling-made arrows, uneven dowel, rusted iron arrowheads, and feather tails. It took him a while to get the details right, but he got them right in the end. It was a clever ruse to convict the freefolk who crossed the Wall so that in case Roose Bolton decides to investigate, they will have a false trail to follow. This was why he pestered Mikken to teach him how to forge so that he can make weapons like this to incriminate others, while he remained safe.

He took the quiver out and laid them out so that he can use them at his leisure. The five hounds quickly reached the stream and started barking at the naked girl who was struggling but was slowly succeeding in climbing the hill.

Jon took his first arrow and he placed it on his weirwood bow and he pulled, waiting carefully as he aimed at the first hound. The wind was against him, so he waited, and just then the wind turned and he fired. He released the string and it flew true, straight into the first hound's stomach, piercing from one side to the other. The hound wailed in pain alerting the other hounds which barked in every direction. The first arrow was always the least accurate, and with the need to get the first shot right over, he took the next arrow…

Two

Three

Four

Five

Since the target was quite far, he needed the wind in his favour, even a slight change would stray his shot.

By the time Ramsay reached the stream to check the pained wailing of his hounds, he found his five faithful hounds dying in the water, the water in the stream a shade of red.

'Come closer you little cunt! Just a little more.' He mused as he waited for Ramsay to reach into his range so that he can kill in one shot.

Ramsay's steed came forward to the edge of the stream. 'There you are.' He released his next shot as he smirked in joy.

Before Ramsay could even fully deduce that there was a shooter hidden in the woods, an arrow punched in through above his right temple and the rusted iron tip pierced in through the thick bone. The Bolton bastard's body slumped to the side of the horse as he slowly fell dead face-first into the mire.

The man named Reek quickly hurried towards Ramsay Snow, but before he could turn his steed around and ride back to safety, an arrow pierced his chest. The man fell off his steed and tried to crawl back out of range, but an arrow hit his thigh causing him to scream in pain. The second arrow prevented him from moving out of his range, it was hard enough to hit a target at the edge of his range, he didn't need the fool to escape. And finally, the third one took time, he waited for the wind to be in his favour, and it pierced just below his neck as the man slowed in pain and slowly bled to death.

But the fun wasn't over because he knew there was one other fool left, but before that, he put two more arrows into Ramsay's unmoving body just in case. It didn't take long for the other fool to come looking for his companions, an hour maybe, the sun was high in the sky, it was already midday, but as soon as he was in range, he put two arrows through his chest in quick successions not even giving the man the chance to find his companions.

And that was it, the fun was over, frankly, he thought it was too quick, he should have made Ramsay suffer a bit more, but after having waited years for a chance like this, he couldn't control himself as he shot one aiming straight for his eye. The wind had strayed the shot a little at the end, but not by much. No more Ramsay Bolton or Ramsay Snow, he made it a point to kill the fucker first, remembering what he did to Sansa, Rickon and Wun Wun. He would have liked to put the bastard's head on a plate and serve it to Sansa as a gift, but he knew for a fact that his sister in this time would most definitely not appreciate it.

Jon slowly stood up and trekked up the hill to cross the hill range and go to his horse, but he remembered something, he took the rope he had on hand and he went to the top right where the girl was trying to climb. He dropped the rope right down where she was climbing up and he secured it to a nearby tree.

The shivering girl slowly climbed up the rope with her bare foot using the rocks for support as she crept. When she reached the edge of the cliff she slowly peeked her head up to look for her tormentors, tears rolling down her eyes, eyes resigned and ready to accept her fate, but all she saw was a black fur cloak and a small bag of coin laid neatly on the ground in front of her. She warily looked up but climbed over, she quickly wore the fur to cover herself and took the purse of coins as she ran through the woods intent on making it back to her home.

He watched from afar, hidden in the treeline, the girl would never know who helped her or why, if she is captured and interrogated someone might figure out that Ramsay Snow's death wasn't a wildling attack, but he couldn't just leave her naked to fend on her own.

Once he was sure that the girl was safe and out of observable distance, he simply gathered his rope and disappeared through the woods.

Lord Eddard Stark was in his solar looking through all the parchments of requests from the other houses. House Mormont was requesting for some funds to continue building a new fleet of warships and to extend their port, to prevent Ironborn Raiders from attacking them. An idea Lady Maege Mormont had picked up from Jon three years ago during a harvest feast held at the Last Hearth by House Umber to discuss the growing wildling raids. Both Lady Maege and he were very impressed by the ideas for ships that Jon had suggested the She-Bear build.

Lord Karstark had sent him yet another request asking for the betrothal of his eldest son Robb to his youngest daughter Alys when she flowers. He was still considering it, Cat wanted Robb to marry a girl from some prominent House in the Riverlands who are loyal to House Tully, or maybe from one in the Vale, while politically a correct move, this wasn't the south, in the north, they didn't concern themselves with politics. Also, such a marriage would seem disrespectful to his fellow Northern Lord, as such he wasn't keen on considering Cat's suggestion. Besides, Robb wasn't their only child, they had other children who would come of age in the coming years.

As soon as the parchments disappeared off his desk, Lord Stark's mind drifted. He was worried about the King's arrival and his missing son Jon. The King's arrival was for no doubt Robert's excuse to ask him to take the mantle as the Hand of the King. Jon Arryn's death still pained him; the man was like a father to him. He remembered Robert's Rebellion and all the things the Lord of the Eyrie had done for him and Robert. Jon, his son, was a free spirit, much like his siblings Brandon and Lyanna, both of whom simply loved hunting and travelling and fighting. There were several times he had to verbally spar with Catelyn to keep Jon in Winterfell, while his lady wanted him shipped off to Bear Island as Lady Maege had requested to foster.

The boy's skill with a blade was, in fact, frightening, so was his aim with a longbow. Seeing the boy use his blade was often like watching Prince Rhaegar's skill with the blade at the trident. So, he knew that his son would be fine in the wild alone, but he would have been more inclined to feel relaxed if the boy had taken his Direwolf with him. He still had trouble understanding how the boy tamed a wild Direwolf by himself.

Sometimes things about his son almost seemed magical. He would never know how the boy put the idea of rebuilding Moat Cailin into the heads of the other Lords, Lord Manderly, Lord Hornwood both of them came to him with the idea of rebuilding when they had visited Winterfell years ago. Of course, the boy denied it altogether, but the blunt grin on his face said otherwise. He would never know why the boy wanted the ruined stronghold rebuilt, but he would often find the boy devoutly praying at the Godswood, as such he gave the boy's ideas some interest. If it was anyone else, he would have been very harsh about meddling in things that didn't concern them, but Jon is the only one who would get away from something like that.

Ned heard a knock on his door, "Come in."

One of his guards opened the door, "My lord, Jon Snow has returned."

That immediately lightened his mood as he stood up and walked outside to stand at the railings to see the boy in question walking through the gate with a huge wild boar draped over his shoulder, the boy holding the boar by its legs with both hands. His Direwolf already nuzzling against his side as it tried to bite a piece out of the boar.

Cat had been happy for the last three weeks without Jon in the castle, he would hear about the boy's antics tonight from his lady wife.

In the distance, chatting with the guards, his eyes connected to his own and the boy immediately held his down and walked up to him. As the boy walked closer, he asked, "You've been gone for three weeks."

Jon hesitantly looked up at him, "I was tracking this boar and I was on foot to keep it quiet. I tied the horse up by a stream and I left, when I came back the horse was gone. It was stolen. It took me about a week to find the thief, but I found him and forced him to return my horse. I once again had to track down the boar from scratch."

"You should have taken the Direwolf with you." Robb walked into the courtyard and said with a smirk.

Before the brothers could reunite, he said firmly, "In my solar, now!"

Jon sighed as he watched his uncle recede into his solar, he turned and gave Robb a look, his cousin simply shook his head in amusement, clearly at his impending earful.

"One time, I don't take Coldwind with me, and this happens." He muttered at his cousin.

Robb simply chuckled harder, "You should have seen father's face when Arya blurted to Septa Mordane during embroidery class that she wished to have left with you. Mother was furious, she and father fought for three days straight over what Arya said."

Robb gave a slap to the back of his head, "You should get going, better not make father wait."

When he gave Robb a curious look, Robb's features tightened and his tone turned serious, "Things have happened."

Jon handed the boar to one of the guards to take it to the kitchen for dinner, and he followed into his uncle's solar. He knocked and when he heard the 'come in', he opened the door and walked in.

"Lord Stark…"

"Take a seat." He took his seat facing uncle Ned and braced for the earful.

"Jon Arryn is dead." Uncle began and Jon directed his full attention. Jon Arryn was the man he was named after, his namesake, at least the name his uncle had given him. Even though he had never met the man in real life, he did feel sorry for him.

"The King is coming North, to Winterfell. He'll be here in a moon's turn. Within that time, I want you to keep your antics to a limited and be on your best behaviour. That means no more hunting trips, no more visits to the Smoking Log with the guards and no more goading Arya and Bran into pointless competitions. I've already given Robb this talk, and if he coerces you or Theon into anything, there will be severe consequences. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Stark." He replied respectfully.

This was expected. He couldn't blame his uncle for reprimanding him, unlike in his previous life, this time he was quite a handful, knowing what awaited them all in the future, he enjoyed his childhood with Robb, Arya and Bran however much as he could. And he never once cared what Catelyn Stark might think of him to let her prevent him from enjoying life with his siblings/cousins.

It was the dead of the night in Winterfell, the moon was high in the sky. The pale white light illuminated the snow-covered floor. He walked down into the courtyard and he headed into the Godswood.

The Godswood was a three-acre forest, easy to enjoy the solitude in, he didn't waste time, he went straight to the heart of the grove, where the weirwood heart tree stood. He went and sat on the large root above the ground closest to the carved face. He placed his right hand on the large face and he closed his eye while taking a deep breath. Soon he opened his eyes, but instead of his usual grey, his eyes were white, which gave an eerie glow under the moon's light.

His mind drifted into the endless abyss of dreams, where he met with his partner in crime, "Bran." He called.

"I know why you've come, Jon. But I'm no longer Brandon Stark, I'm the three-eyed-raven." A dull voice echoed in his ears.

"Of course, what was I thinking?" He japed sarcastically.

"You're doing the right thing, Jon Snow."

"Am I? Then why do I feel sick?" He asked Bran more than a little harshly.

"You cannot save everyone." The voice echoed as if it was ordering him.

He took a deep breath calming himself and he mused, "We have a moon's time left. I could tell father now, we need to give him some time to absorb this, but he will believe us. We can prevent him from going south at all. We can save him."

"Some lives are destined to be lost, Jon. There is nothing we can do. Peace is necessary, nobody wants war, but some men we cannot save." The voice replied to him.

He gritted his teeth in anger, "Father is the most honourable man alive, if someone like him has to die for the sake of peace, then that peace isn't even worth fighting for. This broken world doesn't deserve his sacrifice."

"Jon, we've talked about this, some things we cannot change."

"Stop, just stop. I don't want to hear your cryptic statements. Convince me, Bran. Convince me that you have our family's best interest at heart."

There was silence, palpable silence for a long time. He waited patiently because he still felt Bran's presence. Then there was a sigh, he heard it loud and clear.

"I do not have our family's best interest at heart. The Lannisters that you hate so much also had their family's best interest in minds when they tore the realm apart, what good did that bring? The Tyrells did everything for the sake of their own family, for their own self-interest, look where that got them? If we only care about those who are close to us, we're no different than the Lannisters. I have the realm's best interest in mind, that's what I care about."

Jon stayed silent while Bran's voice continued, "If we don't allow Father to go south, Tywin Lannister will become the new Hand of the King. King Robert would make him the Warden of the East when Jaime Lannister refuses him. Being the Warden of the East and West, Tywin will have control of half the realm. In a year, the King would die after a furious argument with Cersei, who will have Lancel Lannister increase the strength of the King's wine, and King Robert will die on another one of his hunts being too drunk to kill a boar. Joffrey would ascend to the throne, he would marry Margaery Tyrell to secure the Reach, the crown will also negotiate an uneasy alliance with Dorne. Tywin will control the seven kingdoms. Stannis will send his letters about Jon Arryn's suspicion of Cersei's incestual relationship with her brother Jaime, he will raise a rebellion, Father will support his claim, so will the river lords. The realm will be divided and there will be seven battles over four years, we will win the first six, but Tywin will arrange for the slaughter of Stannis, Renly, father, Robb, you and win the war through the mutiny of ambitious lords. Boltons will claim Winterfell, the Freys will claim Riverrun, the Swanns will claim Storm's End. Sansa will be forcefully married to Jaime Lannister whose vows will be dissolved. Arya will be married to Roose Bolton himself, Rickon and Bran will be slaughtered to secure Winterfell."

"When the dust settles, Daenerys Targaryen will come with three dragons, the Golden Company, the Dothraki, the Unsullied, and all the sellswords of Essos that money can buy. Another long campaign will follow, the second Targaryen Conquest they will call it, but not for long. Daenerys will lose all of her advisors, her allies and one of her dragons. She will become the Mad Queen who is loved by none, resolving that she doesn't need the love of Westeros, she will burn every castle down and take the throne by force."

"And when the realm is at its weakest, the spells weaved into the Wall by the Children of the Forest, that holds the dead at bay will fail and the Wall itself will fall. And the Night King will come with the army of the dead. Daenerys won't believe in it until the dead march right to her doorstep, but by then there is nothing anyone can do because the Long Night has long begun and there's no stopping it."

Jon stayed silent as he listened to Bran's vision of the current future, "This is your future Jon, this is the future unless you change your mind now. We need the future to be foreseeable, not undreamed-of. Please…"

"Fine." Jon agreed, his voice breaking in regret of his uncle's impending death that he cannot change.

Jon didn't say another word, he stopped his connection with the heart tree. He walked away not wanting to hear another fateful future. Hope was dangerous, he had always had hope for the future, but now he wasn't so sure. What good was hope, when you know that you can't save the people you care about?

That's the first chapter done. I was kind of hoping it to be longer, but I can't think of anything else to put here. I hope fans will like it. No pairings. Jon is keen on saving the world, he doesn't care much about personal life, not for now at least.

Yes, Ramsay is dead. Jon kills him first not listening to Bran's wisdom. Jon feels a deep hatred for Ramsay after the Pink letter, so he justifies it to himself that Ramsay should die before everyone else. To those who are wondering why Jon killed him. And Jon doesn't see future-Bran in the heartree as the three-eyed-raven, he sees him as his younger brother, that's why he refers to Ned as his father, even though they both know that Ned isn't Jon's father, he still thinks of him as a younger sibling.

"Litoral": Whoever you are, you're entitled to your own opinion, but if you want to convince me that Jon is shit and Catelyn is a goddess, then you shouldn't be making anonymous reviews. And for the record Cat didn't just ignore Jon and leave him alone. GoT Chapter 6 Catelyn II, she asks Ned to send Jon away, that she won't allow Jon to stay in Winterfell after he leaves south to King's Landing. That's just one example. If you don't know about canon, then don't claim what's canon and what's not.

Next chapter will be up soon.