Game of Dragonborn.

[Chapter Size: 2800 Words.]

Third Person POV.

Winterfell.

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...

"What he did!! Arrest this man!" Cersei's voice exclaimed at that moment as she angrily pointed beside Lady Catelyn, who was quite stunned by what was happening.

Meanwhile, the crown prince lay on the ground, groaning in pain as he tried to stem the blood flowing from his nose. His eyes were on Jon, filled with fear of him, making the Dragonborn raise an eyebrow at the little brat who dared attack people out of anger, regardless of how dishonorable it might be.

The place was utterly silent after the queen's shout as everyone tried to process what was happening until the sound of a blade being drawn shattered the quiet. Jaime Lannister unsheathed his sword, glaring at Jon with a threatening tone.

"Surrender now. You are surrounded. You just assaulted the prince of the Seven Kingdoms." Though he didn't sound entirely confident, as it had happened during training, Jaime still took the initiative to detain the strange bard.

Quickly, many other swords were drawn as the Lannister men began to brandish their weapons, pointing them at the stranger, while the Northerners seemed unsure of what to do.

"Stop this immediately!" The king's voice roared as he rose from his chair.

"My king... he struck your son in the face. His nose is broken…" Jaime said, knowing his sister would not tolerate this.

"They were in the middle of training, in case you didn't notice, Ser Jaime. It was Joffrey who attacked him, and he responded with a punch. Perhaps this will teach him a good lesson about not trying to attack someone who's distracted." Robert said, as Jon raised an eyebrow at him. At least the king had some sense of honor.

"That wasn't honorable, Ser Jaime," even Ned Stark said, staring directly at Jaime, who didn't seem pleased, as if it were an indirect jab at him.

Jon had been calm from the beginning, even after punching the prince, unfazed by all the swords pointed at him. He simply wondered whether he should settle things with these men then and there, once and for all. Everything seemed to be heading toward a confrontation where he would draw his sword and start cutting them down.

As everyone still watched, seemingly undecided on what to do — whether Lannisters or Northerners — the king shouted again.

"What are you waiting for?! Sheathe your swords! This isn't enough of a reason to arrest or kill someone!" He spoke with a certain degree of common sense.

The king roared. It was obvious he didn't like seeing his son on the ground, bloodied, but he wasn't about to imprison the man who defeated him during a training session, especially after the brat had asked for it. At that moment, everyone began to put their swords away, though some still looked at Jon with disdain.

"What are you doing?! He hit the crown prince, your son! Are you going to let him go unpunished?!" The queen's voice once again broke the silence. Cersei was furious, her gaze sharp enough to pierce iron.

"Silence, woman! The fool thought it would be smart to attack someone while they were distracted, trying to take them from behind!" Robert cared little for her anger and even interrupted her with contempt.

Joffrey was still on the ground, looking at his mother and silently pleading for help with his eyes. She approached him quickly, lifting her dress with her hands as she ran to avoid stepping on it.

"My dear… what have they done to you…" She reached her son, inspecting his injury before turning to her husband and exclaiming with more fury, "You can't be serious! You are the king! No one should dare raise a hand against the royal family!"

"I think the king is right in this, my queen. It was just training, and the bard merely reacted to his opponent's attack," Lord Stark commented in a calm yet firm tone.

Cersei shot him a look of disapproval before turning her attention back to Jon, who remained standing in the same spot, silently watching it all unfold.

"You, you damned bard, will pay for this! I swear it!" she spat venomously.

Jon merely looked at her with disdain, raising an eyebrow as if he found her foolish. To him, it was no surprise that the prince turned out the way he had—not because of the king, but because of her. This woman, he thought, would probably guarantee her own son's short life with the way she spoiled him without consequence.

"Mother, it hurts so much!" murmured Joffrey, cradled in her arms, drawing Cersei's attention as she knelt beside him.

"He hit you hard..." she whispered, clearly concerned. At that moment, another lady approached—none other than Sansa herself, looking worried about her bleeding fiancé, appearing as if she were deeply concerned, like a lovestruck woman.

Arya, observing from a distance, almost laughed at the scene but stayed silent while the king's eyes shifted back to Jon.

"You, bard, have quite a punch. You also handled my son easily. You said your name is Dovahkiin. Where are you from?" Robert asked, now looking at Jon with interest. Even Ned watched him, more intensely than before, intrigued by the man standing before them.

"Yes, my name is Dovahkiin. I come from far beyond the known East," Jon replied calmly, trying to keep his tone as convincing as possible.

He attempted to sound like someone from this world, avoiding any mention of things that might cause panic. After all, the idea of multiple worlds could terrify the people here, especially those bound to the notion of their world being the center of the universe.

"I heard about you yesterday. You vanished after your songs. I must say, you sing well and clearly know how to wield a sword. Are you a warrior from your land?" the king continued.

"I've fought a few times," Jon offered a short response.

"A few times? I know a warrior when I see one, Dovahkiin. And though this was training, you still struck my son. I cannot let that go so easily. Therefore, I want you to kneel before me and accompany me to King's Landing. We'll need your songs and, perhaps, your sword. I want to see how you fare against the royal guards," he said.

However, what everyone expected—Jon simply kneeling—did not happen. He only raised an eyebrow at the king, making no move.

"Why are you standing there? Come, kneel before the King of Westeros! I'm willing to pardon you and even let you train my son, as he clearly needs a good teacher." For a moment, Robert saw in Jon someone bold enough to strike Joffrey. This could make the boy into a warrior, as all the royal guards who had tried to help had never succeeded in turning the boy into a man, while his mother only spoiled him.

But seeing the stranger appear to defy his request already made Robert angry.

"Why aren't you doing it? Kneel!" Robert insisted, while everyone watched, even Cersei looking shocked.

"Because I won't do that, King of Westeros," Jon said calmly.

"What do you mean by that?" Robert narrowed his eyes at him, while the atmosphere grew even tenser. Even Lord Stark furrowed his brow at this.

"I'm saying I won't kneel before you. You're not my king," Jon replied, confirming what everyone had been suspecting, though they were still shocked to hear it aloud. No one had ever done such a thing before—it was tantamount to putting a noose or a sword to one's own neck.

"You're under the King of Westeros and refuse to kneel before him?" Robert's voice became harsher, while Jaime Lannister, standing nearby, drew his sword again, pointing it at Jon for the second time.

"As I said, you're not my king. With all due respect, I don't kneel easily. In fact, I've never knelt. No one has ever been able to make me kneel. I've met many people who called themselves kings, but I don't understand this need to bow so readily," Jon said with a tone that was almost amused. He looked around before concluding, "If you want to imprison me for this, then I demand a trial by combat."

His declaration left everyone around even more stunned by his words.

"What? You want a trial by combat because you refuse to kneel before me?" Robert, who had initially appreciated the bard's audacity, quickly grew furious with him.

"Don't I have that right?" Jon asked, maintaining his composure. For him, this was a chance to avoid a larger conflict and to refrain from killing everyone there—something he could do easily but found unnecessary because it would be far too quick and simple.

As he spoke, he noticed Arya holding the two wolves, staring at him in shock amidst the crowd. His other "cousins" also bore strange expressions, as if unable to believe that he would challenge a king in front of everyone at Winterfell.

"He can't be serious..." Robert murmured, but Ned looked at him cautiously.

"He has that right, Robert. It's your decision now—send a warrior to face him," Lord Stark said.

Robert, after some thought, nodded. "Very well. If he wants a warrior to fight, so be it," he said as Jaime stepped closer to the king.

"Please, let me face him. I will fight in your name here and for my nephew's honor," Jaime offered, but Robert wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. After all, he despised his wife's brother as much as her family.

The king's gaze scanned the crowd, searching for someone, until a knight quickly stepped forward. "Your Majesty, let me fight for you. This man challenged me last night. Let me kill him for your honor, for the disrespect, and for the cowardice of fighting a child and still thinking himself an honorable warrior. Let me show the power of a knight accepted by the Seven!" he exclaimed.

Jon recognized the man. It was the same knight who had tried to intimidate him the previous night when the men were speaking disrespectfully about noblewomen.

Robert seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding. "Very well, you may face him," he said. Typically, the king would send his royal guards, but he chose this man, likely to humiliate Jaime, who was still kneeling, gripping his sword in frustration at being ignored. This clearly pleased Robert, and Jon also found the situation rather amusing.

"I'll don my armor," the knight declared, as his squire ran off to fetch his pieces. The knight prepared for battle, while Jon remained still, observing the scene with an air of boredom.

Robert noticed Jon's attitude and raised an eyebrow. "And you, stranger? Do you plan to die without wearing armor?" he asked, clearly irritated, though his curiosity about the bold bard was growing.

"I don't need it," Jon said calmly, causing Robert to snort.

"This man will die full of regrets," the king muttered.

Theon approached Jon at that moment with an ironic smile. "Man, you're absolutely insane, but you certainly have my respect."

Jon looked at him with little interest. "I don't need your respect," he replied coldly.

Theon furrowed his brow at the response, offended. "Listen here, you idiot! I'm the heir to the Iron Islands. You have no right to speak to me like that!"

Jon raised an eyebrow, reminding Theon how he had disrespected the king and the crown prince earlier. "Then you're just a squid," he said calmly, full of disdain. "Get out of my way."

Theon stepped back, clearly enraged but unable to react. He considered confronting Jon but thought twice about it, not wanting to end up like Joffrey. Instead, he hoped Jon would face a humiliating defeat.

Jon didn't care. He was an adult and could understand Theon's previous actions, considering they were just children, but ultimately, the Greyjoy hadn't changed at all.

Robb stepped forward and nudged Theon away with a light push. "Come on, Theon. You don't want to get involved in this mess."

Robb observed Jon for a moment with growing curiosity, thoughts of his lost brother passing through his mind. Even Bran watched Jon with interest but chose to walk away with Robb and Theon.

In the end, no one else tried to confront Jon. He remained there, watching the knight prepare for the fight. He noticed his uncle Benjen approaching his brother, speaking with him while pointing at Jon. Meanwhile, others speculated about the duel's outcome, with the majority believing the knight would emerge victorious.

In the end, Ned stood up and approached Jon, analyzing him carefully. "Tell me, stranger called Dovahkiin, how old are you?" he asked, studying Jon and contemplating the possibility that he might be his long-lost nephew.

"Twenty years old, Lord Stark," Jon replied, looking at him with indifferent eyes.

"I see," Ned murmured at last with a sigh. It was obvious that Jon was older than Jon Snow. "Anyway, good luck." That was all he said before stepping away.

Jon remained there for a while, as the crowd around him grew. Everyone was eagerly waiting, with more people gathering after hearing about the duel and the reasons behind it.

Finally, the knight appeared, fully dressed in his armor, and stepped into the center of the courtyard. King Robert exclaimed enthusiastically, "It's time!" He glanced at the yard, seeing Jon still standing in the same spot. Robert sighed, clearly excited for the battle to begin and expecting to see the bard on the ground.

Jon walked calmly to the center of the space, where the knight was already positioned.

"Well, you know the drill… The gods decide the victor, all that nonsense," Robert said, clearly impatient with the rituals of the Seven. "Let's skip that part. Begin!" He ignored the disapproving looks from the septons of Winterfell.

The knight glared at Jon with disdain and shouted, "You're not even wearing armor? You dare underestimate me, and you'll die for it, coward!" His voice echoed from inside his helmet.

Jon, however, stood still about fifteen meters away from the knight, holding the sword he had used earlier—a weapon that wasn't even ideal. He hadn't bothered to fetch another and was now calmly inspecting it with one hand, as if more interested in the blade than his opponent. He seemed oblivious to the knight slowly advancing toward him.

"Get on with it! Let's go!" the king yelled.

The knight continued to walk toward Jon with determined steps, but Jon remained stationary. He rotated his sword in his hand, examining it from different angles and sides, testing its weight. He completely ignored the approaching opponent, leaving everyone baffled.

When the knight was about ten meters away, Jon, apparently satisfied with his inspection, simply tossed his sword into the air. The blade soared over four meters high, capturing everyone's attention in the courtyard. The move stunned the onlookers, who couldn't understand what he was doing.

The knight interpreted it as an attempt to humiliate him and charged forward with greater force. Meanwhile, Jon, with a faint smile, shifted his body to the side, watching the sword fall back down. Just as the blade was about to hit the ground, Jon caught it mid-air, spun it quickly in his hand, and threw it forward toward his opponent.

The sword spun and flew straight for over ten meters, cutting through the air with a sharp, piercing sound. The knight, who didn't even have time to raise his shield, was struck directly in the left side of his chest. The blade pierced through his armor and into his heart with precision as blood burst from the wound, staining the armor with the embedded sword.

The impact brought the knight to his knees, the pain so overwhelming that his strength began to fade. He dropped his sword and shield before collapsing onto the ground. The sword remained lodged in his chest as his body trembled in its final moments. The crowd fell into absolute silence, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

King Robert was the first to react, standing up from his chair as he stared at the scene in disbelief. "By all the gods, I can't believe what I just saw!"

Meanwhile, the knight's lifeless body lay motionless on the ground, his heart pierced. Jon simply looked at it calmly, as if the event were nothing extraordinary.

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