A Song of Fire & Snow (GOT)(Jon Snow)

Chapter 6: Jon Snow

The Great Hall of Winterfell was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Jon Snow stood at the head of the long table, his hands resting on its surface as he looked down at the maps sprawled across it. The weight of his new title—King in the North—pressed heavily on his shoulders, though it was not one he had ever sought.

He had been named king by the Northmen after the Battle of the Bastards, after he had taken back Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton. The battle had been brutal, the losses staggering, but it had been necessary. Jon had fought not just for his home but for the North, for the people who had placed their faith in him. And now, he was responsible for them all.

The scars of his past—his upbringing as Ned Stark's bastard, the cold distance of Catelyn Stark, the nights spent wondering where he truly belonged—had shaped him into the man he was today. He had been an outsider for most of his life, never truly part of the Stark family, but always loyal to them nonetheless. His bond with his siblings, particularly Robb and Arya, had kept him grounded, even when Lady Stark's disdain had threatened to isolate him.

Now, standing in the hall that had once been his father's, Jon couldn't help but think back to those days. Winterfell had been his home, but it had never felt fully his. He had been a boy who watched from the sidelines, always doing his duty, always trying to prove himself, but never quite fitting in.

And yet, all of that had prepared him for this moment.

The Battle of the Bastards had been the culmination of everything he had learned as a boy. The training, the swordsmanship, the lessons in leadership—all had been put to the test, and he had emerged victorious, though not without cost. He had fought for his family, for his people, and for the North. But the battle had also changed him. The boy who had longed for acceptance had grown into a man who bore the weight of an entire kingdom on his shoulders.

Jon had never wanted to be a king. He had only ever wanted to protect those he loved. But now, he had to do more than that. He had to lead, to make decisions that would affect not just Winterfell, but all of the North. And with the threat of the White Walkers looming ever closer, the burden of leadership felt heavier than ever.

As he studied the maps before him, his thoughts drifted to the Wall, to the Night's Watch, where he had once believed his future lay. He had taken the black, sworn to protect the realm from the dangers beyond the Wall, and for a time, it had seemed like his path was clear. But fate had other plans for him.

He had been brought back from the dead by the Red Priestess Melisandre, a fact that still weighed on his mind, even though he rarely spoke of it. He wasn't sure why he had been given a second chance at life, but he knew it was for a reason. And now, as King in the North, he could no longer afford to doubt himself.

Jon straightened, his gaze shifting to the banners hanging in the Great Hall. The direwolf of House Stark flapped lazily in the breeze from the hearth. He was no longer just a boy standing in the shadow of his father. He was a leader now, a king.

But even as he accepted his role, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. There was a fire inside him, a quiet determination that drove him forward, but he knew that the battles to come would be unlike any he had faced before. The White Walkers were a threat unlike any other, and to face them, Jon would need more than just swords and soldiers. He would need alliances, strength, and a will to survive the coming storm.

His past had shaped him, and now it was time to see if it had prepared him for what lay ahead.