The first thing he felt was the cold.
A brutal cold that pierced his body like knives.
He opened his eyes with difficulty, but all he could see was endless white stretching toward the horizon.
Snow.
He was standing in the middle of the snow.
He stared around for several moments, unable to comprehend what was happening.
The last thing he remembered was…
He frowned.
He couldn't remember anything.
He tried moving his hand, then his leg.
His body was intact.
He wasn't injured.
There was no blood.
Only strange clothes that weren't his.
"Where the hell am I?"
His voice came out broken because of the cold.
He raised his head.
In the distance, massive stone walls appeared.
Extremely high walls.
Above them stood towers and battlements covered in snow.
He stared at them for a long moment.
Then he froze.
"No…"
His heart began pounding.
Impossible.
He knew this place.
He had seen it hundreds of times.
In books.
In the show.
Winterfell.
"This is impossible."
Before he could process the thought, a cold voice suddenly sounded inside his head.
[Ding!]
[Successful transfer.]
He froze.
The voice wasn't coming from outside.
It was inside his head.
[Welcome, Host.]
[You have been chosen to begin a new life in another world.]
He remained silent.
Then he spoke cautiously.
"A system?"
[Yes.]
He swallowed.
This was insane.
Traveling to another world?
A system?
Winterfell?
If this was a dream, it was terrifyingly realistic.
He asked,
"What world?"
Words appeared in his mind.
[World: A Song of Ice and Fire.]
He said nothing.
He couldn't.
He simply stared at the distant walls.
A Song of Ice and Fire.
Westeros.
The Starks.
The Lannisters.
The Targaryens.
Dragons.
The Others.
War.
Then he realized something that made his face pale.
"When?"
[The current date corresponds to the beginning of the main events.]
His eyes widened.
"How long until Robert arrives?"
[King Robert Baratheon is currently on his way to Winterfell.]
He took a step backward.
"Damn…"
He knew what was going to happen.
Ned Stark would go south.
Bran would fall.
Jon would go to the Wall.
Tyrion would be accused of attempting to kill Joffrey.
Ned would die.
Robert would die.
The war would begin.
Then the war would consume everyone.
But he realized something else.
Knowing the future didn't mean he could change it.
He was currently standing in the snow without a name, without money, without a family, and without any means of protecting himself.
"System."
[Yes, Host.]
"Do I have anything?"
The system remained silent for a second.
[Due to the Host transferring to a new world without possessing any identity or resources, the Beginner's Package has been activated.]
His heart skipped a beat.
[Congratulations.]
[The Host has received the following rewards:]
[Targaryen Bloodline.]
He froze.
"…What?"
[Dragon Egg ×1.]
He immediately raised his head.
[Valyrian Steel Sword ×1.]
He couldn't speak.
Then the final message appeared.
[30 points have been added to all basic attributes.]
Suddenly, he felt a strange warmth spreading throughout his body.
His muscles.
His bones.
His nerves.
Even his breathing became easier.
[Status Updated.]
[Status]
Name: Unknown
Age: 17
Bloodline: Targaryen
Titles: None
Strength: 30
Speed: 30
Health: 30
Intelligence: 30
Magic: 30
Skills: None
He stared at the invisible screen.
"The Targaryen bloodline?"
He knew the value of that name.
If anyone in Winterfell discovered that this stranger claimed to be a Targaryen, he could end up in a dungeon.
And that might be the least of his worries.
"Can I change my name?"
[Yes.]
He thought for a few moments.
He needed an identity.
A name that wouldn't attract suspicion.
Then he remembered a name he had liked for years.
The name of a knight from ancient legends.
"Tristan."
[Name registered.]
"Tristan Waters."
[Temporary identity registered.]
He smiled faintly.
"A bastard of unknown origin."
[Identity created.]
[Tristan Waters.]
"Excellent."
He looked toward Winterfell again.
He knew that entering this world from this moment onward would change everything.
But he had no idea just how much.
He began walking.
The snow reached his ankles, and the cold was still brutal, but he no longer felt it as strongly as he had minutes ago.
As he approached the gates of Winterfell, he began hearing sounds.
Horses.
Men.
The clashing of armor.
He raised his head.
Two guards appeared above the wall.
One of them shouted,
"Stop!"
Tristan stopped.
"Who are you?"
He remained silent for a moment.
This was his first real test.
He couldn't tell them the truth.
He couldn't say he had come from another world.
And he certainly couldn't say he was a Targaryen.
So he gave the simplest lie possible.
"Tristan Waters."
The two guards exchanged glances.
"Waters?"
He nodded.
"A bastard."
One of the guards laughed.
"And who is your father?"
Tristan pretended to hesitate.
Then he shook his head.
"I don't know."
The guard looked him up and down.
"And what do you want in Winterfell?"
Tristan looked at the castle.
Then said,
"I'm looking for work."
The guard continued watching him.
After a few moments, he gestured toward the gate.
The massive gates of Winterfell began to open.
Tristan entered.
The moment he crossed the gates, he saw a world he had believed was nothing more than fiction his entire life.
Men wearing furs.
Horses.
Blacksmiths.
Stark soldiers.
Banners bearing the direwolf fluttering above the towers.
Then he saw a man walking across the courtyard.
Black hair.
A stern face.
A gray cloak.
And on his chest was the Hand of the King's brooch.
Tristan stopped.
He recognized him immediately.
Eddard Stark.
And beside him stood a huge man with black hair and a thick beard.
Robert Baratheon.
The king had arrived.
A chill ran through Tristan's body.
He had reached the exact moment when the story began.
But the story he knew no longer existed.
Because a new person was now standing inside Winterfell.
Someone who had never existed in any book.
Nor in any prophecy.
Nor in any history.
Tristan Waters.
And he didn't yet know that simply existing here might be enough to change the fate of all Westeros.
Tristan couldn't believe his luck.
Of all the places he could have appeared, he had appeared in Winterfell, on the very day King Robert Baratheon arrived.
And now he stood in the middle of the courtyard, watching the royal procession enter.
He recognized most of the faces.
Eddard Stark.
Catelyn Stark.
Robb.
Sansa.
Arya.
Bran.
Jon Snow.
Tyrion Lannister.
Then he saw the blond boy walking beside the king.
Joffrey Baratheon.
Tristan stared at him for several seconds.
Joffrey was exactly as he remembered him: a spoiled, arrogant, rude boy who believed that his name alone placed him above everyone else.
Suddenly, the system's voice appeared in his head.
[New Quest.]
[Quest: Attract the King's Attention.]
[Objective: Attract the attention of King Robert Baratheon and prove the Host's worth before him.]
[Reward: Swordsmanship Skill — Blue Level.]
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
Swordsmanship.
That was exactly what he needed.
The attributes he had received were good for an ordinary person, but they didn't make him a swordsman.
A Blue-Level Swordsmanship Skill, however, would give him a real foundation for combat.
He looked at Joffrey.
Then smiled.
He had found his method.
He moved until he stood directly in the path the prince would take.
One of the guards stopped.
"Move."
Tristan didn't.
Joffrey raised his eyes toward him.
"Who is this?"
One of the guards answered,
"A stranger, Your Highness."
Joffrey looked at Tristan with contempt.
"Move out of my way."
Tristan remained where he was.
"Tristan Waters."
The moment Joffrey heard the name, a mocking smile appeared on his face.
"Waters?"
He examined Tristan's clothes.
Then laughed.
"A bastard."
Tristan said nothing.
Joffrey stepped closer.
"Where is your father?"
"I don't know."
Joffrey laughed.
"Of course you don't."
Then he looked at Sandor.
"Did you hear that, Hound?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
Joffrey pointed at Tristan.
"Looks like this bastard doesn't even know who his father is."
Tristan said,
"Are you finished?"
Joffrey stopped.
Then stared at him.
"What did you say?"
"I said, are you finished?"
Joffrey's expression changed.
He was used to everyone lowering their eyes when he spoke to them.
This stranger hadn't.
Joffrey immediately drew his sword.
"Kneel before me."
Tristan looked at the sword.
Then at Joffrey.
"Why?"
"Because I'm a prince."
"And?"
Laughter erupted among some of the soldiers.
Joffrey's face turned red.
He raised his sword toward Tristan.
"Kill this bastard."
Sandor didn't hesitate for a moment.
He immediately stepped forward.
He drew his massive sword from its sheath.
Tristan looked at the blade coming toward him.
This was what he wanted.
But when he saw the man's size, he realized he might have overestimated his abilities.
Sandor Clegane wasn't an ordinary knight.
He was a mountain of flesh and steel.
Tristan placed his hand on his sword.
Then drew it.
The moment the blade appeared, Ned Stark's expression changed.
"Valyrian steel."
Robert turned.
"What?"
But before anyone could do anything, Sandor attacked.
Tristan raised his sword.
The blades collided.
One strike made Tristan's arm tremble.
He retreated.
A second strike.
He blocked it.
A third.
He leaned to the side, and the sword passed beside his head.
He retreated several steps.
He couldn't fight.
Not with this level of skill.
His body was stronger than an ordinary human's, but he didn't know how to use a sword.
Sandor attacked again.
Tristan blocked the blow, but fell to one knee.
He heard Joffrey laugh.
"Kill the bastard!"
Sandor raised his sword.
And suddenly…
[Ding!]
[First condition fulfilled.]
[The Host has successfully attracted the King's attention.]
[Would you like to receive the reward?]
Tristan smiled despite the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Yes."
[Swordsmanship Skill — Blue Level acquired.]
Something changed inside him.
It wasn't merely a feeling.
Knowledge flooded into his mind.
Foot placement.
Weight distribution.
Sword angles.
Shoulder movement.
How to read an opponent.
Hundreds of techniques.
Thousands of details.
As if years of training had been added to his mind in an instant.
Sandor attacked.
But Tristan stood.
He raised his sword.
And blocked the blow.
This time, he didn't retreat.
Sandor stopped for a moment.
Tristan didn't give him a chance.
One step forward.
A horizontal slash.
Sandor blocked it.
A second strike.
The Hound retreated.
A third.
The swords collided again.
The difference was obvious.
Moments ago, Tristan could barely defend himself.
Now he was capable of matching Sandor.
But the system wasn't finished.
[Additional Reward.]
[+50 Strength.]
[+50 Speed.]
[+50 Health.]
[+50 Intelligence.]
[+50 Magic.]
Tristan felt energy explode inside his body.
His muscles tightened.
His breathing became stronger.
His senses sharpened.
Even Sandor's movements appeared clearer.
[Status]
Name: Tristan Waters
Age: 17
Bloodline: Targaryen
Titles: None
Strength: 80
Speed: 80
Health: 80
Intelligence: 80
Magic: 80
Skills:
Swordsmanship: Blue
Tristan raised his sword.
Sandor charged.
Tristan moved.
A sidestep.
Then a swift strike.
Sandor blocked it with difficulty.
Another strike.
Then a third.
The Hound took a step backward.
Tristan advanced.
Their swords clashed again.
This time, Tristan was the one forcing Sandor backward.
Joffrey was no longer laughing.
"Kill him!"
Sandor growled.
He charged with all his strength.
He raised his sword above his head and brought it down.
Tristan moved.
He dodged the blow.
Then spun and pointed his blade at Sandor's throat.
The Hound stopped.
The blade touched his skin.
Silence descended upon the courtyard.
No one could believe what they were seeing.
An unknown bastard had stood against Sandor Clegane, with a sword pressed against his throat.
Tristan said nothing.
Sandor stared at him.
Then slowly began raising his sword.
Tristan tightened his grip.
But a thunderous voice shattered the moment.
"Enough!"
It was Robert.
The king stepped forward quickly.
"Lower your sword!"
Tristan lowered the blade.
At the same time, Sandor lowered his sword.
Robert looked at the two of them.
Then suddenly burst out laughing.
"Gods! What happened here?"
Joffrey stepped forward angrily.
"Father! This bastard attacked me!"
Robert looked at his son.
"You ordered the Hound to kill him."
"But he insulted me!"
"You're a prince. Are you going to kill every man who insults you?"
Joffrey fell silent.
Robert ignored him and looked at Tristan.
"You."
Tristan raised his eyes.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Come here."
Tristan stepped forward.
Robert stared at his face.
"Where did you get that sword?"
"I found it."
Robert raised an eyebrow.
"You found a Valyrian steel sword?"
"Yes."
Robert laughed.
"You're a terrible liar."
Tristan said nothing.
Ned intervened.
"Robert."
The king turned toward him.
"What?"
"Perhaps we should find out who this boy is before deciding anything."
Robert looked at Tristan again.
"Where are you from?"
"I don't know."
"And who is your father?"
"I don't know."
"Your mother?"
"I don't know."
Robert laughed.
"Three 'I don't knows.'"
Then he looked at Tristan's sword.
"But you have a Valyrian steel sword, and you're capable of standing against the Hound."
He smiled.
"I like that."
Tristan bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Robert stepped closer.
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
"No."
"Money?"
"A little."
"Family?"
Tristan shook his head.
Robert looked at Ned.
Then said,
"Let him stay here."
Ned looked at him.
"Robert…"
"He's just a boy."
Then he looked at Tristan.
"And I want to know where this bastard came from."
Robert laughed.
"I think Winterfell can find a place for him."
Tristan said nothing.
But inside, his thoughts were racing.
He had succeeded.
He had obtained the Swordsmanship Skill.
All his attributes had increased.
And more importantly…
The king knew him now.
But something else caught his attention.
Joffrey.
He was standing in the distance, glaring at him with pure hatred.
This wasn't a prince who forgot an insult.
Tristan knew that well.
And beside him, Sandor Clegane was silently watching him.
As for Tyrion Lannister, he had been observing Tristan since the beginning of the fight.
Tristan's eyes met the dwarf's.
Tyrion gave him a faint smile.
As if he had realized that this stranger was hiding something.
Tristan ignored him.
He looked toward the sky.
The snow was still falling.
He had only entered Winterfell a short while ago.
Yet three things had already changed.
King Robert knew him.
Joffrey hated him.
And Tyrion Lannister had begun to suspect him.
And most importantly…
The events were no longer unfolding as he remembered them.
One final notification appeared in his mind.
[Quest Completed.]
[The world's original timeline has begun to deviate.]
Tristan smiled.
This time, he didn't feel afraid.
He felt excitement.
Because he was no longer merely someone trying to survive in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire.
He had already begun changing the story.