The Bastard Wolf: Reborn Chapter 3 – The Lion and the Wolf
The sun hadn't risen yet. Winterfell was silent, but Jon Snow was wide awake.
He walked the halls like a ghost, his boots echoing in the quiet. Something in his chest kept pounding, a tension he couldn't shake. Maybe it was the storm of memory, the weight of knowing too much.
Or maybe it was the fact that Jaime Lannister had been watching him all night.
Not obviously, no. Jaime was too clever for that. But Jon had caught the glances during the feast, the way the Kingslayer laughed a little too loud when Jon spoke. Testing him. Measuring him.
Fine. Let him look.
---
Outside in the yard, snow flurried lightly as Jon moved through sword forms. Ghost sat nearby, eyes glowing in the dark.
"You're up early," came a voice behind him.
Jon didn't turn. "So are you."
Jaime Lannister stepped into view, golden hair tied back, smug as ever. He held a practice blade.
"Care for a dance, Snow?"
Jon lowered his sword, tilted his head. "You want to spar with a bastard?"
Jaime smiled. "Sometimes it's fun to remind people where they stand."
Jon stepped forward, blade ready. "Then come get your reminder."
They clashed in the snow, steel ringing out like thunder. Jaime was fast, fluid, cocky as hell. But Jon fought with purpose. Every move calculated, every strike laced with a quiet fury.
Jaime grunted as Jon's blade nearly took his arm. "You're better than you look."
Jon smirked. "You're slower than your legend."
The duel ended with Jaime on his ass in the snow, and Jon standing over him, sword at his throat.
"Guess you got your reminder," Jon said.
Jaime laughed as Jon offered him a hand. "I like you, Snow. You're an arrogant little shit."
"Takes one to know one."
---
Later that day, Ned called him into the godswood.
"You've changed," Ned said, eyes studying him beneath the weirwood tree.
Jon shrugged. "Maybe I'm just waking up."
Ned didn't smile. "You're bolder. Sharper. This world punishes men like that."
Jon looked at the red leaves. "This world punishes everyone. I'd rather go down fighting."
Ned nodded slowly. "Your Uncle Benjen leaves for the Wall tomorrow. If you're still set on joining him, speak now."
Jon hesitated. The Wall. The Night's Watch. A future of cold, duty, and death.
But it also put him where he needed to be. Close to the threat. Close to the dead.
"I'll go," he said. "But not to be a brother. I go to be a shield."
---
That night, he found Arya practicing in secret. Her needlework cast aside, real needle in hand.
Jon watched her from the shadows, then stepped in. "You keep stabbing the air like that, it might stab back."
Arya grinned. "Teach me something useful, then."
Jon took her stance, adjusted her feet, her hands. "Every fight's a dance. Learn the rhythm. Hit off-beat. Never be predictable."
Arya frowned. "What do you mean off-beat?"
Jon sang softly:
"This dick ain't free..."
Arya froze. "What?"
Jon chuckled. "Lesson one: Surprise is a weapon. Use it. Confuse your enemies."
She looked at him, completely baffled. Then she laughed.
"You're insane."
"Insane gets you alive."
---
That night, in the quiet of his room, Jon stared out the window. He could feel it. The world shifting. He was making waves. Changing fate.
But the danger was coming faster now. Robert would ride south. Ned would go with him. And the rest of the game would begin.
He reached for the harp in the corner—an old Northern relic. He plucked a few strings, found the melody, then sang:
"You're no good for me... but baby I want you, I want you..."
"Told myself that I wouldn't fall... but I dove right in, gave it all..."
It wasn't Westerosi. But the soul of the music? That was universal. That was timeless.
And somewhere in the castle, Cersei Lannister paused mid-step, listening.
---
End of Chapter 3