A Different Song (ASOIAF- OC/Reincarnation)

75AC

Daemon Snow

I relaxed in the hot water of the hot springs after a day of training in arms and parkour, enjoying a brief respite as my microbreaks in the bones and many wounds healed. The hot water proved surprisingly soothing for me. Training in arms had become routine and no longer stressed my bones and muscles, even with the additional weights tied around my hands and legs. The parkour I attempted among the trees in the Godswood was to blame for most of my injuries.

I climbed a tree near the edge and ran through the branches, jumping from tree to tree and even swinging like Tarzan at times. The current height I maintained was only about two men's height, with the trees towering so tall that I estimated even three giants could stand shoulder to shoulder to reach the topmost branches. My goal was to climb to the highest branch and run across the forest without falling even once. So far, at this height where I jumped and swung the most, I had only suffered a broken leg and minor bruises, but my body was growing tougher, and my skill in balancing was improving day by day. I derived several benefits from this training. Firstly, I became more surefooted, able to navigate tricky terrain with confidence. Additionally, my increased agility and strength meant that I could potentially survive falls that might otherwise prove fatal—an important skill in a world where accidents, such as falling from horses or stairs, were common methods of assassination.

Aethan was nearby, and I could tell he had some questions, but I left him to his thoughts. Leaning back against the edge, I laid my head on the ground and closed my eyes.

My eyes rolled back, and I entered another state of consciousness. My primary connection was with an eagle, but that wasn't my focus at the moment. Recently, I had managed to establish a bond with a falcon and sent it south. The connection nearly faltered when it crossed the Neck, but with daily practice, I managed to maintain a weak connection. I hoped to strengthen it further once it reached King's Landing.

"Daemon," Aethan called out, shaking my arms as I had been underwater for almost five minutes now. I lost awareness of my body while warging, and it had nearly drowned. However, having trained to survive underwater for almost 30 minutes, I was unharmed.

Emerging from the water, I noticed Bennard eyeing us suspiciously as he passed nearby the springs. My lord uncle remained a little bitch towards me with his snide remarks and looks. I could understand why a war erupted in the North when Cregan assumed the lordship of Winterfell after his regency. The power he wielded as Lord Regent of Winterfell likely consumed him, as depicted in the canon. I hoped he wouldn't behave similarly here, as I had no desire to become a kinslayer so early on.

"So, Daemon," Aethan interrupted my thoughts, "what is the purpose of our upcoming journey to White Harbor? The warg scouts under my father were sent there two years ago."

I looked at him, surprised that Lord Reed hadn't shared this information with him in his letters.

"Aethan, it marks the beginning of a great voyage for the North," I explained. "House Stark, supported by House Manderly and the Sealord of Braavos, is funding this endeavor. Wargs are crucial for scouting and traveling through the nights. Over the last two years, they have traveled with Manderly ships and scouted the Narrow Sea all the way up to Volantis. According to reports, they can now cut across the open sea without staying near the shores, thanks to bird scouts and updated maps."

Aethan frowned in thought.

"Daemon, why would Lord Stark disclose the secret of warg scouts to the Manderlys now?" he asked.

"Keeping power without using it is stupidity, Aethan," I replied. "It is time for the North to utilize its resources to perfection for our continued survival."

Aethan seemed perplexed. "Is that why you shared the secret with me and shared your powers? What about the rest of the people?"

"Aethan, Lord Stark is aware, and under his supervision, I share my power through the water, wine, and ale stores with the castle residents," I explained. "Don't think that I share it with only you or something like that. I told you because you are my friend, so you benefit more directly through consumption like my family here and indirectly through the foods."

"Thank you, Daemon," he said, his eyes reflecting respect and loyalty as he realised how much I have helped him.

76 AC

Kingslanding

The Spring Prince

Baelon Targaryen sat beside his beloved elder brother Aemon in the Small Council Room. The meeting had been going on for hours, and Baelon was growing quite bored, as usual. Although he had no official seat in the room, he was allowed to sit and observe as the heir's heir, and for future training.

When bored, Baelon's eyes wandered around the room. It was spacious, rectangular in shape, with high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and several candelabras for lighting. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting scenes of historical significance, including the Burning of Harrenhal, the Crowning of the Conqueror and his Sister-wives, and portraits of his father and mother. Baelon always understood why these historical scenes were displayed, but he couldn't fathom the inclusion of the last two paintings, especially given the king's vehement hatred for all things related to Maegor the Cruel.

The portraits was Balerion burning down the sept of Remembrance and the dance of dragons above Godseye where Maegor killed his Uncle Aegon and Quicksilver.

Baelon, with his trained eyes, always noticed the frown on the Hand of the King, Septon Barth's face whenever his gaze landed on the portrait depicting the burning of the Sept of Remembrance by Balerion. Baelon wondered if anyone had ever dared to inquire about the presence of these two portraits before he and Aemon were inducted into the council. At least, they had not dared, knowing the king's legendary temper whenever Maegor was mentioned in his presence.

Baelon cleared his thoughts as he noticed the king beginning to frown in his direction, realizing that his wandering thoughts had been noticed. He shifted his attention to the council member who was about to report something. It was Lord Manfred Redwyne, the Master of Ships. Normally confident and prideful in his demeanor before the King and the council, Lord Redwyne's visible hesitation signaled that the topic at hand likely concerned the North.

Baelon knew that for the past years, the ravens and the men sent by the Lords and the Night's Watch had been a headache for the King and this council. The Queen, seated beside the King, grew irate every time they came up, knowing the King blamed her and the Hand for that disaster.

"Your Grace, I have some news regarding the North," Lord Manfred said hesitantly.

"What is it, Lord Redwyne? Which lord has sent representatives now?" the King scoffed.

"It's not that, my King. The North has been making moves," Lord Manfred explained. "I heard that 50 ships have been commissioned in Braavos's arsenal by the Starks. Initially, I thought it was just a rumor, considering the cost would be quite high and the Starks are known to be poor and unable to afford such a venture. However, I have confirmation that a Great Voyage similar to that of the Sea Snake was initiated last year."

Lord Manfred paused, his expression conveying the weight of his report. "The Starks have not reported their contact with Braavos to the Iron Throne or sought your permission, Your Grace, especially given Braavos's lack of direct relations with the Seven Kingdoms after the stolen dragon eggs debacle."

Baelon observed the King's expression turning stern and thoughtful, while Aemon appeared increasingly interested in the news concerning the North.

"Why would the Starks or any lords, for that matter, ask my permission for engaging in trade? I wonder why you cared enough to report this to me when you didn't do it for the Sea Snake's Voyage," the King questioned with a dismissive tone. "I have not banned trade or relations with Braavos or any other Free Cities. I have only forbidden ships or individuals from venturing into Old Valyria and threatened war if any dragon were to fly over Braavos. As long as these orders are not violated, I have no problem. If they want to squander their money on ships and a risky venture, let them do it—as long as they pay their taxes for the trade."

Baelon exchanged a glance with his brother Aemon, recognizing the King's position on the matter. This was old grudges at play. The centuries-long loss of the Andals against the Starks still haunted the Faith and the Andal Lords more than anything King Maegor had done a couple of decades back.

"And if the Starks have enough money to build a small fleet, why the Seven hells are they complaining about food shortages and famine to us?" the Queen added, clearly frustrated with the situation in the North. "It's not my fault that the Night's Watch was filled with stupidity and scorned my gracious gift. They should just trade for food from the Riverlands or the Reach if they care for their people that much," the Queen finished, her tone tinged with irritation.

Baelon had to use his full concentration to suppress the snort of laughter that threatened to erupt from him. His eyes twinkled with mirth, though his expression remained composed. Except for Septon Barth and the Maester, who had no training in logistics, everyone present understood the impossibility of the Queen's suggestion. All others in attendance were trained in war, and the first thing they learned was the logistics of the army. Baelon remained quiet, not wanting to embarrass his mother in front of the council.

He glanced at the exasperated king. "My Queen, it's not possible to follow that suggestion. The food will expire long before it reaches the North. It's hard for us to realize the distance, as we have only traveled there by dragon," the king explained to the council. "Let us end the meeting. If there is nothing else, as I ordered, there's nothing to be done about the foolishness of the Starks in buying ships. Keep an eye on the ships in the North, Lord Manfred."

"Of course, your grace. I just want to note that no other lords in the south have dared to maintain any possible relations with Braavos after they displeased you, my king. There is one more thing, your grace. The flags of this voyage bear a sigil that was very intriguing, in addition to the normal snarling direwolf of House Stark and the merman of House Manderly. It featured a snarling white wolf and a black dragon interwoven on a black and red background. After some inquiry, I confirmed it was the sigil of Daemon Snow," Lord Manfred said delicately.

The moment the name was mentioned, Aemon lost his composure to anger and sadness.

"Your Grace," Septon Barth, who had been silent until now, called out, "it is not right for a seven-year-old bastard with no achievements or land to inherit to use a sigil with noble heraldry. It is a crime when the said heraldry features the animal representing the Royal Family, a Dragon. He should not be allowed to use it, Your Grace, and should be punished for rising above his station. Moreover, the sudden relation with Braavos is not at all benign as a trade relation or voyage. I believe that Lord Stark wishes to obtain a dragon egg for the bastard grandson. They should be punished for this overstepping, Your Grace."

The council was eerily quiet as the accusation echoed around the halls, and the king looked around the room for further opinions.

Baelon knew it was time to ask the most important question before an argument erupted. "My Lord Hand," he addressed Septon Barth, "why would Lord Stark allow his eight-year-old grandson to use a sigil that includes his representation, and furthermore, why would this sigil be displayed on voyages funded by the Starks, Manderly, and Braavos? Those dragon eggs would have crystallized by now without the heat of Dragonstone, and how would the Starks afford to purchase them in the first place? Even then, they couldn't hide a dragon from us for years to make it rideable."

As the implications sank in, everyone in the room widened their eyes, grappling with the implications of Baelon's questions.

"My Prince," Lord Manfred interjected, "I also had this question in mind. I pressed my contacts in the shipbuilding industry in Braavos, and the rumor is that half the gold required for the entire contract came from him. The rumor is that Daemon provided the money as a loan to House Stark with a significant interest and a profit share in the venture. The sin of greed in the bastard is high."

The council chamber fell into a tense silence as the gravity of these revelations settled among the gathered members. Baelon snorted and looked at the king, realizing that Lord Redwyne had contradicted his earlier statement that no lords maintained relations with Braavos.

"What?" Aemon exclaimed. "You're saying that a eight-year-old brat had enough sense to use the gold given by me in a productive way and not splurge it? I think this reeks of Lord Stark misusing the gold I sent for him. I don't think there is even a question of punishing Daemon here."

Aemon's frustration was palpable, and the room buzzed with murmurs and exchanged glances. The implications of Daemon Snow's involvement in funding such a significant venture were clearly unsettling to many present.

"My prince," Septon Barth cautioned, "The North is truly a wild land, and stories speak of violent men with a thirst for bloodshed. They are barely above the lawless wildlings beyond the Wall. They say the Wolfswood is so vast and dense that even the Starks don't know the entire forest. After all, they were foolish enough to lose a castle inside it that belonged to House Blackwood. It is entirely possible that a dragon could be kept hidden in it if it is sufficiently controlled, and there are stories of skinchangers among the First Men—monsters who use the bodies of beasts as their own. Dragons are also beasts, after all."

"Enough!" Aemon snapped. "Whatever horror stories the faith has about the First Men pale in comparison to the might of the Dragon. If anyone is foolish enough to try to bond with a dragon other than Targaryens, their minds will be destroyed in fire and blood."

"Of course, my prince. You know more about dragons than us, and I will defer to your judgment."

"My prince," the Grand Maester said, "I have received some concerning reports from the maester appointed to Winterfell by His Grace. The boy is a prodigy in whatever he puts his mind to—reading, writing, fighting, anything. Even now, after the lords in the south started using our other services, the lords of the North do not utilize the maesters appointed by His Grace for anything other than the ordered tax account maintenance and verification owed to the Iron Throne. However, the boy is different and curious. He has asked many questions of the maester, and the maester asked me to inquire with his grace whether he should teach the bastard boy. Surprisingly, Lord Stark never ordered him to teach anything. What should I reply?"

"What? The bastard needs a lord's education now? Order him not to teach the boy anything," the Queen exclaimed.

"No," Aemon said, his voice stern, resembling the King's for the first time. Baelon saw the King's shadow in his elder brother.

"What did you say, Aemon?" The Queen was flabbergasted—it was the first time her child had said no to her.

"I said no, Mother. Daemon is my son, and I will decide what to do with him and what to teach him. It is not under your jurisdiction. I may hate him for killing his mother, but I will not deny him a few answers. Maester, order the maester to answer and assist Daemon in any way possible. This is your Crown Prince's order."

The Grand Maester looked at the Queen with concern, knowing her explosive temper, but he also knew that only the King could countermand Aemon's order.

"Of course, my prince, as you command," the Maester nodded and accepted.

"Brother, are you going to allow this?" Alysanne snapped at her husband. Baelon saw the king sighing before preparing to answer.

"As I told you when he was born, he is Aemon's bastard and he can decide what to do with him. I will not interfere without sufficient cause. Grandmaester, do as the prince says and inquire whether Lord Stark used the funds provided to Daemon with his consent. Let the North do whatever they want with their money and alliances. If they are after the dragon eggs, it is of no concern to House Targaryen. We will reclaim the eggs and hatchlings from them, dead or alive. Let us table this discussion about the North; I have had my fill of their complaints for a lifetime in the last years. Let's hope the voyage solves some of their problems so that we can enjoy peaceful years ahead. Dismissed," the king ordered, and everyone began to leave after bowing.

"Baelon, Do not go, stay here." The King's voice echoed as he tried to leave.

As the room cleared Baelon was increasingly getting nervous as he knew the question would come.

"Baelon, why is this the first I am hearing of this northern voyage now? What have you been doing all this time? Why haven't you seen anything about this trip in your dreamwalking? Aren't you checking in every week as I ordered?"

"My king, I apologize. I failed," Baelon replied, his voice tinged with unease. "After practicing dreamwalking using the Dragonglass candle, it was only yesterday that I could penetrate the protections around Winterfell, and even then I had to bleed heavily. After all that, I encountered a firewall of black stone in his mind and saw an aerial view of Winterfell. The castle is made with blackstone similar to the stones used in Dragonstone."

The king's wide-eyed expression was a rare sight, and Baelon took note of it.

"That is quite fascinating. There are no stories of such elaborate defenses was possible in the mind anywhere," the king remarked. "It seems that we must rely on ordinary spies from now on. Do not try to enter his mind again, Baelon. We wouldn't want him to discover it and attempt it in reverse."

Baelon exhaled loudly, relieved to have escaped the king's wrath. He had expected a severe scolding for his failure.

"Now, son, let me hear about the latest secrets of my kingdom, collected using both physical and magical methods by you," the king continued. "Let me see whether you have learned my teachings regarding the position of Master of Whisperers and whether I could fully transfer the maintenance of my own network to you."

Baelon straightened, ready to report on the intelligence he had gathered.

77AC

Daemon Snow

I rode on my pony beside Aethan along the Kingsroad, heading towards the Neck as promised to Lord Reed. The journey, though hellish and boring at times, held a certain fascination for me—it was my first glimpse outside the confines of Winterfell. We were accompanied by ten guards from Winterfell, all familiar faces who likes me very much as I was often underfoot, a child who followed them and interacted with them more than most.

Over time, even some of the old ladies in Winterfell began to mention that the number of sicknesses among the castle folk had decreased significantly after I turned four and fell ill for a week. Aethan started a rumor that I possessed a magical charm against illness, and I have been blessed by the Old Gods in my say so.

We were near the Barrowlands, and nightfall was approaching. We moved slowly on horseback, with the guards riding two men abreast. As we searched for a suitable shelter to make camp for the night, my falcon suddenly alerted me to danger. She flew above the treeline and tugged at our connection, indicating the presence of men creeping below the trees.

Authors Note: Ended in a Cliffhanger!!! Next Chapter: Bandit troubles and greywater watch. Looking forward to the reactions regarding the Kings attitude and the entire meeting!!

To Read Ahead Chp 7,8 and 9: My Patr eon: Search For Black Wolf