Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or The Elder Scrolls. If I did Ned Stark would have lived, and the Dragonborn would have become the next Emperor.

"A man who bears Valyrian steel should use it for more than scratching his arse"- Godry Farring to Jon Snow.

"Dragonborn, huh? Was it your ma or your pa that was the dragon?" - Hadvar.

Return of House Greystark. Dragonborn.

This wasn't how he expected to die. Though he held no illusions of living to old age as Maester Aemon had, still he hadn't thought it would end like this. He knew his end would be a violent one, how could it not? But he had thought it would be on some battle field with sword in hand, not betrayed and stabbed by his own men. Why? Because he let the Wildlings through the Wall? He had done it to keep the True Enemy from getting fresh Soldiers in their undead army, as much as he had done it for the Free Folk themselves.

'Guess it was true that no good deed goes unpunished.' Thought Jon, as he lay in the Snow, his life's blood spilling out of him. 'A Snow killed in the snow, how Ironic.'

As the darkness closed in around him, Jon couldn't help but wonder if he would be excepted into the Hall of his ancestors, or if being a Bastard would bar him from it? Would he see his Father and brothers again? What would they think of him, and the things he had done? With that one final thought the darkness claimed him, and Jon Snow knew nothing.

The first thing Jon became aware of was cold. Freezing cold! It would figure his afterlife would be a cold one. Was it too much to ask for a little warmth, even in death?! Opening his eyes he saw he was on some type of tall mountain top covered in snow. Getting to his feet and looking around, he spotted some kind of small stone wall. It was curved, and covered in some kind of strange markings.

Also spotted a Knight, in all black plate armor kneeling at the wall. Before Jon could open his mouth to speak, the Knight stood and faced him. The first thing Jon noted about other than his strange armor, was the man was tall! Standing over a head higher than he himself. The second thing he noticed was the mans sword. A more beautiful long sword, Jon had never seen. In the place of a cross guard was a round disk like pendent, that gave of a bright otherworldly glow. And the blade itself, burned with fire! The sword brought to mind the legend of Lightbringer.

"Draw your sword, Jon Snow!" The Knight spoke in a deep voice.

Looking down Jon saw Longclaw strapped to his side, but why would his sword be with him in the afterlife? And why did this Knight tell him to draw it? Even more how did he know his name? Was he some dead enemy, looking for vengeance even in the afterlife? How did he plan to kill him if Jon was already dead?

"Why would I draw my sword, when to my knowledge you have done me no wrong?" Jon asked the strange Knight. He wished the man would take off hes helm so he could see whom he was speaking to. "I don't even know who you are."

"I have had many names and titles." the man said, as he advance on Jon. "But most knew me as the Dragonborn."

Dragonborn? Was this man a Targaryen? "I'll not draw my sword on you, for I have no quarrel with you."

"Then you'll die!" Said the knight, as he gave a powerful downward slash with his sword. Jon jump back on instinct, drawing Longclaw as he did. "You are Dragonborn like me, Jon Snow! Kill me, and you'll gain a power unlike any you've ever known. But if I kill you, than your strength will become mine!"

"But I'm already dead!" Grunted Jon, as he blocked another powerful strike. "I was killed by my men!"

"Yes and no." Said the man as he continued to attack. "You were killed by your men, but you are in a place between life and death! You may yet live... If you can defeat me!"

That was the last he spoke, as they fought. Despite how skilled this man was with a sword, Jon could not shake the feeling that he was holding back. On the fight went, for what seemed to Jon an eternity. But in truth was likely only a few minutes. The warrior was skilled, Jon would even go as far as to say he was more skilled then he himself was. But Jon would not give in. The man said if Jon beat him, he might live, so beat him Jon would. Yet still he could not shake the feeling that the man was just toying with him.

Finally after what seemed forever the man made a mistake. The dark warrior over extended on a thrust that Jon had stepped out of the way of. Seeing his opportunity, Jon slammed the flat of Longclaw into the man's wrist. Causing him to drop his weapon. Not wanting him to recover, he quickly spun and drove the point of his sword into a weak point in the Knight's armor.

The mysterious man fell to his knees, with Jon's sword sticking half way out of his stomach. The man gave a shaky laugh before it turned to a cough. With shaking hands the man removed his helm. Jon saw he had long blonde hair and blue eyes, with what looked like a three day beard on his weathered face. Blood was seeping out of his mouth.

"I knew you could do it, Jon Snow." He said weakly, as he let his helm fall to the snow.

"You wanted to lose!" Exclaimed Jon, with dawning comprehension. He watched the man nodded slightly.

"Aye, long have I existed." Said the man in between coughing fits. "Longer than any man should. Now I may finally rest. Thank you."

"You said if I defeated you, I would be able to return home." Jon stated.

"Yes, but it will not be the home you left." Wheezed the man. " Akatosh, the Dragon God of Time. Intends to send you into the past of your world, in a time before Lord Eddard Stark ever went to war."

"But why?" Jon asked, confused.

"To learn, and to prepare for the great threat beyond your Wall. But remembered, you'll be able to change somethings... But others are fated to happen." Said the man. "Kill me and my knowledge will become yours, and you will know what you must do. Now please... I do not wish to suffer any longer."

Acquiescing to the man's request for a quick death, Jon pulled Longclaw free of his body. The man coughed more blood and fell to his hands. Jon brought his sword high, aiming for the warriors exposed neck.

"Go with the Gods." Jon whispered, before swiftly bringing his sword down. The deed done, Jon let his sword arm go limp. A split second later, he heard a sound like rushing wind. Jon hit his knees in a silent scream, as knowledge, skills, and memories not his own filled him. He knew now when he would be sent back, and what he was meant to do. When the rushing stopped, Jon blacked out at the overload of information now in his head.

Jon sprang up with a gasp, as he looked around wildly.

"Easy, Lad. Easy. You're safe now." Said a voice to his left. Jon looked to the voice, and saw a tall man with dark graying hair and beard. His face was stern, but his eyes(The same color of Jon's own.) held a kindness to them.

"Where?" Jon began, but couldn't finish.

"You're in Winterfell, Lad." Said the man. "My men found you in the Wolfswood, half frozen. I'm Lord Rickard Stark."

His Grandfather! So it wasn't a dream, he really had traveled back into the time before Robert's Rebellion! Unaware of Jon's internal shock, the man continued to speak. "Do you mind telling me what happened?"

Jon had to think fast to come up with a believable story, as he highly doubted the truth would suffice here. "I was on my way to White Harbor to look for some work when something spooked my horse, My Lord. The last thing I remembered was being thrown off, and then everything went dark."

"Makes sense, I guess." Nodded Jon's grandfather. "Yours wouldn't be the first horse to get spooked in those woods."

Seeing Jon looking around, as if trying to find something. The Lord held up the weapon that was found with him. "Looking for this Lad?"

Jon looked to see that he was holding up Longclaw. Jon let out an involuntary sigh of relief, His sword had traveled back with him! Lord Rickard, whoever misread the sigh as meaning the lad was glad it hadn't been stolen. Which was understandable given just what kind of sword this was. "Mind telling me who you are, Lad? This is Valyrian steel sword. Which means you're either a very skilled, not to mention brave thief. Or you're someone of importance. And seeing as no one has reported to me their family sword having been stolen. I'm inclined to believe it is the later. So... who are you?"

Jon was afraid of this, but knew it was coming and had his answer ready. It would be a gamble, but if it worked it would explain any lingering questions that Lord Rickard might have. Still it would be a risk.

"You'll kill me when you know, my Lord." He had said it softly, as his eyes shifted downward. Not looking at the man who was his grandfather.

"Why would I do that?" The Lord of Winterfell asked.

"Because my family wronged yours in the past, my Lord." Jon said it full of shame, which he didn't really have to fake. As lying never really sat right with him. Still it was hardly the first time he had to do so. And it wasn't like Jon could tell him the truth.

"Tell me lad, have you wronged my family?" The Lord asked.

"Only by being born my Lord." This wasn't technically a lie, as Jon was his father's shame.

"Then you should have nothing to fear from telling me your name." Said Jon's grandfather kindly. "I'm not in the habit of punishing someone for the crimes of others. So what's your name?"

"My name is Jon, my Lord." Jon said before looking down. "of House Greystark."

Rickard Stark's eye widened at the admission. "How is that possible? The Greystarks were wiped out centuries ago."

"Yes they were my Lord. All except for my ancestor who was in Valyria at the time, having that sword forged." Jon explained the story he had fabricated. He had chosen the Greystark name as his cover, as it would explain his Stark features. And him carrying a Valyrian steel sword, with a wolf's head pommel. "From what I understand of my families history during that time, he married the bastard daughter of a minor Dragon Lord. My ancestors stayed in the Freehold, for a few hundred years. Luckily they were away during the Doom. After the Doom, they stuck to Braavos and the other free cities. Never stepping foot in Westeros, if they could help it. At least until my father ran afoul of some Sellswords when I was two. He moved us here and hid us in the gift. When he died, I left to seek work, and that's where you found me my Lord."

When Jon finished he glanced a look at his grandfather, only to his face set in an unreadable expression. For a moment neither made a sound, till finally when the silence was almost unbearable. Did Lord Rickard speak. "That was quite the tale young man, you've certainly giving me a lot to think about. Which I will go do now, I'll have some food and drink brought up to you shortly."

With that the Lord of Winterfell, got up and left the room leaving Jon to his thoughts. Once he was alone, Jon let out a breath. He hated lying, and it took a lot out of him to do so convincingly. Still it was a necessary evil, as he couldn't tell anyone the truth without them thinking him mad. Didn't mean he had to like it though. He also knew that a major part in the reason he could lie so well, came not from him but from the memories and skills he absorbed from the Dragonborn he had killed. Who's name he now knew as Brunwulf.

But Brunwulf's skills weren't just in lying and swordplay, the man was also a very skilled Mage. And when he wanted, a very deadly Assassin. And now those skills were Jon's own. While Jon had no doubt that he could use the man's skills as a fighter, it was his skills in Magic, and the Thu'um or Dragon Shouts if you prefer. That Jon was most curious about. It was why he made up the part about the Bastard Daughter of a Valyrian Dragon Lord. As to explain why he would be able to use magic, should someone catch him. But first, Jon needed to know if he really could use magic.

Deciding to start small, he concentrated on casting a low level fire spell, much to his shock it worked and a small ball of flame appeared in his hand. Emboldened by his success he began to cast other spells, finally ending in a Detect Life spell. Jon's eyes widened in surprise when he suddenly could make out three human shapes outside his room! Two were guards posted outside of his door, and the third was a female carrying a tray. Jon quickly canceled the spell, before a young girl of perhaps Two and Ten years walked in carrying his food. Jon almost choked on air, as he looked at the girl. It was like he was looking at his little sister Arya.

"Is it true what my father and brother are saying?!" The girl asked excitedly, as she sat the tray down.

"I-is what true, Miss..." Jon trailed off, still shocked at her resemblance to his sister.

"Oh! Sorry! Lyanna Stark, though most call me Lya." The girl said realizing he didn't know who she was. "And is it true that you are a Greystark?!"

"Oh. Yes, my Lady." Said Jon. So this was his Aunt Lyanna, whose abduction by Rhaegar Targaryen sparked Robert's Rebellion. "If you don't mind me asking my Lady, why are you delivering my food?"

"When I overheard my Father and Brother talking about you, I wanted to see you for myself. So I told the maid, I would take your food to you." His aunt spoke.

"Oh." Was all Jon could think to say. For a moment, there was silence until. "Do you hate my family?"

It had been spoken so soft he almost didn't hear her. "I'm sorry, what did ask?"

"I asked if you hated my family." She explained. "You know, for what we did to yours?"

"My ancestors rose up in rebellion against yours, my Lady." Jon said after a moment. "They likely left your ancestors little choice. So no, I don't hate your family my lady. The only thing I've never been able to figure out is why the Boltons were spared."

"That's good to hear." She said. As Jon ate his food he noticed, she not only had not left. But also kept staring at him. "Is there something on my face, my Lady?"

"What? Oh! No, it's just you look remarkably like my brother Ned. Just a little older. It must just be the Stark features, coming out in you." She exclaimed, as a light blush tainted her cheeks at having been caught staring.

Jon almost choked on his food. He had forgotten all about his father, whom he would see again. But would barely be a man grown. Jon didn't know how he was going to make it through this without going mad, or giving himself away. "And where is he, my Lady?"

"He is being fostered in the Eyrie." Said a voice from the door way. Jon looked over and saw Lord Rickard had returned. He immediate made to stand. "My Lord."

"As you were, Lad." Said the Lord, before turning to his daughter. "What are you doing in here, Lyanna?"

"Father, I was just bring him his food." Said Lyanna abashed. Lord Rickard cocked an eyebrow.

"You're a Noble Lady, not a serving maid." He said sternly. "You need to start acting like one."
Jon watched as Lady Lyanna's face immediately went from abashed to stoney.

"Yes, Father." She replied, Icily. "If I may be excused?"

Lord Rickard let out a sigh of one long suffering. "You may go."

With that Jon's aunt gave a mocking curtsy, and stormed out. Lord Rickard took a seat, and frustratedly rubbed his face with his palms.

"I love my daughter, as much as I do my three boys." Lord Rickard spoke into his hands, before looking at Jon. "But she's got as much wolf's blood in her as my eldest son Brandon. Long has she resented her station in life."

"My sister Arya, was much the same, my Lord." Jon spoke.

"You have a Sister?!" The Lord spoke in surprise. "Where is she now?"

"Shes... gone, my Lord... I-I wasn't there." Jon said it with a sadness and regret in his voice that wasn't at all faked. For he still felt he should have been there to protect his father and siblings. But no, he stayed at the wall and kept his vows. Look where that got him!

"I'm sorry to hear that, Lad." His Grandfather spoke kindly.

"It's alright, my Lord. It happened years ago." Jon thought about the similarities between his aunt and his sister when an idea came to him. "My father used to call her Arya Underfoot, because she was always underfoot."

This made Lord Rickard smile and chuckle, something that transformed his face. To where Jon could glimpse the kind man his father once spoke of. "She sounds a lot like my Lyanna."

"Aye, my Lord." Jon replied. "She wanted learn how to use a sword, not a needle."

"Yep, defiantly my Lyanna." The Lord, laughed. "So how did your father handle it?"

"He compromised, my Lord." Jon said, getting an arched eyebrow from the Lord. "He told her that as long as she stopped trying to shriek her other duties, then I could teach her in our spare time. It worked, though she still wasn't any good with a needle."

"There might be something to that." The Lord of Winterfell contemplated, before he sobered and changed the subject. "But on to why I'm here. I've decided to believe your story, if for no other reason than it would explain your sword and how you look like you could be my own son. When I know for a fact that I never fathered a bastard."

Jon almost winced at the bastard remark, but held his composure.

"Am I to be executed, my Lord?" asked Jon, playing nervous. Truth be told, he knew he could escape if the situation called for it. But hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Lord Rickard gave him a sympathetic look. "No Lad. What happened between our Houses, happened long in the past. And in the past it shall remain. Here you may take your sword back."

"Thank you, my Lord!" Jon said in relief as he took Longclaw back into hand. He was relieved that his gambit worked, thought Lord Stark mistook it for relief that he would be allowed to live and keep his family sword.

"Think nothing of it, Jon." Lord Stark said with a slight smile as he stood. "As I told you before, I'm not in the habit of punishing people for the crimes of others. Now I must go, I will have my servants draw you a bath and bring you a fresh change of clothes. You may join my family at dinner tonight."

"My Lord!" Exclaimed Jon, as his grandfather was walking to the door. Causing him to stop and turn. "Yes, Jon?"

Jon still holding Longclaw knelt before the Lord of Winterfell as he offered up his sword. "If it pleases you, my Lord. I would swear my sword to you and your House."

This caused the Lord Paramount of the North, to smile in full.

(A.N) I told myself I wouldn't write any more stories, until I finished a few of the ones I already have. But then I got this Idea, and it wouldn't leave me alone. I got inspired to write this while reading Will 0'the Wisp's story 'A Stitch In Time.' If you haven't started reading that one yet, then what are you waiting for? I highly recommend it. I'm not a very emotional person, so it's hard for me to empathize with how a character might be feeling or how they might react in a certain situation. That said, I hope I did a passable job of it in this chapter. For those of you wondering, the mountain Jon appeared on was the Throat of the World.

I love reviews and question, so don't be afraid to leave them and let me know what you think. See you next time.

Reddog24485.