Hello all! Thank you for checking out this story!

Now, I know it's kind of trippy and weird, but that's really only to introduce the portal.

Some of you in the Star Wars and Game of Thrones fandoms might know me here as leapylion3. Welp, my friend Charlotte and I decided to write this crossover! So, this account and story were born!

Enjoy and thank you! Reviews are warmly welcomed! :D

Prologue

Eddard Stark- recently appointed Lord of Winterfell and Warden in the North- slowly climbed up the steps, his heart pounding in his ears. The war had aged him, worn him out. He felt like he could collapse at any given moment. When was the last time he slept? A month ago? What he would give for a minute of sleep...

You have a job to do, he reminded himself sternly. It's why you're here, Ned. To get Lyanna. So you can go home. It's what you've been fighting for.

At the top of the stairs was a long, seemingly never-ending hallway. A huge wooden door was at the end. With a newfound sense of energy and a rush of adrenaline, Ned ran to the door. His legs felt like lead, but he would not stop.

He fumbled with the door handle, his fingers numb and clumsy. A baby's cry made his breath catch in his throat. Lyanna...had she been carrying a child this entire time? Ned shook his head and pushed open the heavy door. Impossible.

The bright white of the room blinded him for a moment; it had been months since he had seen something so pure and clean. He was used to dirt, mud, and blood. Gods, had he become acquainted with blood. The room was bare except for a large bed at the center of the room. His heart stopped. On the bed was a frail and weak Lyanna Stark, a small babe in her arms.

She looked up at her brother when she heard his footsteps. She looked as if she aged ten years. Her grey eyes were not the light and sparkling ones he remembered. No, now they were dark, hard, and full of fear. Does she remember me? Lyanna...please don't be frightened. It's me. It's Ned. I've come to take you home.

"Ned?" His sister's lips moved, her voice barely making a sound. The babe in her arms gave a gurgle and sucked eagerly at her teat.

"I've come to take you come," Eddard murmured, slowly walking to the bed. He took a seat next to her, careful not to make much noise.

"I'm not going home," Lyanna declared, tears welling in her dark eyes. "I'm dying, Ned."

"Don't talk like that," he pleaded. "We'll go home, together. We'll…" He trailed off as he spotted the large pool of blood on the bedclothes.

"So he's dead, then?" She clenched her jaw.

Ned lowered his head. "Jaime Lannister killed the king not two days past."

"Not him," his sister spat out. "You know damn well who I mean, Ned. Don't play dumb with me."

The Lord of Winterfell sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes. He died right after his father."

"Robert?" Her voice was tight.

"Who else?" he replied quietly. "Lyanna, it had to be done. After what he did to you-"

"You don't know what happened, Ned!" she shouted. He was surprised that she had enough energy and strength to raise her voice. "No one does!"

"Tell me, Lyanna. Please." He gripped her hand gently yet firmly. His eyes bored into hers.

"We ran away together. He didn't kidnap me- he didn't hurt me. Everything that happened was agreed on both our parts." The babe in her arms reached up and tugged at her long hair.

Ned looked down at the babe and studied him; dark, curly hair, like his mother's. Grey eyes and a long face, like the rest of the Starks. No trace of Targaryen whatsoever. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" Lyanna cooed, her anger evaporating once her eyes set on him.

"What's his name?" Eddard inquired.

"Jon," his sister replied, amazed and completely fascinated by the small boy. Suddenly, she looked up at Ned, tears swimming in her wide eyes. "Promise me, Ned." Her breathing became shallow. He could practically see the life draining out of her. "Take care of him. Take care of my Jon."

"Don't talk that way," he begged. "We'll go home." She gave his hand a weak squeeze.

"Promise me, Ned," she repeated, her thin fingers slipping from his. "Raise him as one of your own. He'll make you proud." Eddard reached over and wiped at the single tear running down her cheek. "I'll see Father and Brandon." Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'll tell them that they won."

"What about you?" Eddard interjected. "You're a Stark- you won, too."

She shook her head, using the rest of the energy she had left. "I didn't want a war. I wanted him. And now both of us are dead." She breathed a laugh. "I'd hardly say you won if you died."

Ned's protests died on his lips when Lyanna closed her eyes for the last time. Jon, sensing what was happening, opened his mouth and let out a loud cry. He waved his fists in the air and screamed, tears streaming down his face.

"Lyanna, don't." For the first time in a long time, he let himself cry. He took Jon from his dead mother's arms and held him, silently crying as the babe wailed and squealed. Promise me, Ned.

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours. Even the sky had begun to cry. Ned heard the distant sound of thunder cracking, raindrops hitting the closed shutters, and the beating of horse hooves. Jon had long since fallen asleep, curled up against Eddard's chest. The babe's skin hot to the touch. His skin was almost…burning.

"Lord Reed!" the Lord of Winterfell called, standing up, but careful not to wake Jon. He looked down at the babe; poor boy. He'll have the name Snow for the rest of his life. Stark furrowed his eyebrows; Howland had followed him into the tower and up the steps. He was waiting right outside the door…"Howland!" Ned shouted, pushing open the door. The same dark hallway and grey, crumbling steps from before awaited him, yet…the Lord of Greywater Watch did not.

The Warden of the North slowly descended the stairs, his throat dry and his eyes unblinking. Had they killed Howland, too? Had another one of the Kingsguard joined them, and killed Reed? Would Ned be next? His stomach churned as Ned thought of what would happen to Jon. Right now, Lyanna's child was his one and only priority.

Abruptly, the infant's eyes flashed open. Jon Snow was silent as he stared up at his uncle, his mouth pursed in a fine line. Eddard could have sworn that he saw fire blazing in Jon's dark grey eyes. The babe seemed to reach for the door and made a growling sound in the back of his throat.

Hesitantly, Eddard Stark pushed the door open, his eyes never leaving Jon's. Instead of seeing the sandy landscape of Dorne he expected, he was surrounded by lush, green grass. The rain fell gently onto his head and seeped into his clothing. An immense, pristine white city rose above in the distance. Ned could make out some banners…a tree of some sort. He didn't recognize it, nor did he recognize the city.

They need you, a voice whispered in the wind, traveling by and teasing his ears. A war is coming. They need you. The voice was almost identical to that of Lyanna's. Promise me, Ned. Promise me…they need you…they need you…

Ned looked down at the babe in his arms. "Where are we?" Jon Snow just smiled toothlessly, the fire still blazing in his grey eyes.