A Different Song (ASOIAF- OC/Reincarnation)

Chapter 8: The Humbling

I lay in a bed fashioned from leaves, my body drenched in sweat as if I had just emerged from a bath, when consciousness returned to me. Attempting to move my legs, I found them unresponsive below the spine. Propped on my back, I felt the weight of heavy bandages encircling my waist, each movement sending waves of pain through me. As I tried to lift my hands, a stronger grip halted my efforts.

Slowly, I shifted my gaze and beheld Aethan sitting beside me, barely concealing his amusement. The realization dawned on me that he had orchestrated my current predicament. A surge of anger welled within me, a desire to punch the smug bastard in his nose rose in my chest. But for the first time, my body betrayed me. Where once I could have fought or fled, now I was vulnerable, exposed to any potential threat. A sense of helplessness washed over me as I grappled with the reality of my condition.

My body's adaptation and healing mechanisms waged a desperate battle against the onslaught of diseases, poisons, and blood loss incurred from my encounter with the lizard-lion and the toxins I unwittingly absorbed during my bath in the swamps of the Neck. I could sense the venomous cocktail of viruses and toxins attempting to devour my flesh, while my own adaptive defenses fought to keep me alive.

Remarkably, it seemed that my adaptation had unlocked something within my body, enabling me to combat even the magical toxins present in the swamp's murky waters. Despite the significant blood loss and the gaping wound near my stomach, I knew that the absence of damage to any vital organs in that area meant that the immediate danger lay elsewhere. Fortunately, blood loss was no longer a concern for me, thanks to my unique abilities.

I groaned in pain as I attempted to sit upright.

"Don't bother, Daemon," Aethan chided gently, "you're too stubborn. Your body doesn't have the energy to even stay awake right now. Here, have this soup and go back to sleep."

I looked at him with questions burning in my eyes, but I knew now was not the time. I opened my mouth, and Aethan tried to pour down the hot soup without making it spill. I drank it down like a lifeline, the hotness soothing my parched throat.

"So you were right, as usual, Aethan," I heard Lord Reed's voice from the entrance of the room. "He survives and even becomes conscious enough to have soup."

I grinned at them and attempted to speak, but then I lost consciousness again.

"Fucking, Aethan," I thought before succumbing to sleep, realizing the soup must have contained something to make me sleep so I could heal peacefully.

Two days later, I regained consciousness. Experimentally, I tried to move my legs, and to my relief, I found that I could. The flesh on my ruined back, which had felt like a void before, was now present, with new flesh pushing against the bandages.

Groaning in pain, I attempted to sit upright, using my hands to support myself and move backward until my head rested on the headrest of the bed. Closing my eyes, I focused on controlling the pain, a task I had struggled with until now. Despite my efforts, I had never gained complete control over my mind, body, or soul. However, I had learned to reduce the intensity of the pain I experienced.

As my body adapted to injuries, so did my mind adapt to the pain associated with them. I had noticed this phenomenon when I no longer felt the pain of broken bones after my hands were injured by Balerion during my first Greensight. Entering my imagined mindspace—a replica of Winterfell with black stone and a Firewall shield akin to Balerion's Mind —I pondered whether it was merely my imagination or an actual representation of my mind.

Within this mental realm, I observed the representation of my body, noting the blackened portions that signified injuries. Concentrating, I attempted to lessen the pain emanating from those areas, and I sighed in relief as the intensity of the pain immediately diminished.

"Ah! It worked?" I asked myself, surprised by the diminished pain compared to my hands during the healing period after Balerion's attack.

Looking around the sparse room, filled with bloodied clothes and the scent of rotting flesh, I glanced down at my legs. The flesh around the snake bites and leech-inflicted areas was slowly bleeding and emitting a putrid odor. I observed new burns in all 22 wounds, evidence of the rotting flesh being cauterized and removed.

Another groan escaped me as Lord Reed and Aethan entered the room.

I looked at them, wondering how the animal had managed to inform them so quickly of my awakening. Studying Lord Reed's eyes, I immediately discerned a myriad of emotions flickering within them. I saw respect for my perseverance and awe at my resilience, but the most prominent was fear. Fear of the unknown, even here in familiar surroundings. He regarded me as if I were a god in flesh or a monster in human form. It dawned on me then that only Aethan's unwavering loyalty and Lord Stark's love for me had stayed his hand from ending me during my unconscious state. Though it would have been difficult for him to kill me, as I had ensured that one of my eagles always watched over my body whenever I slept outside Winterfell. Even now, I could see myself through the eagle's eyes, perched on a branch 200 feet away, through the ventilation in the upper part of the wall in my room.

My thoughts came to a sudden halt as I realized I could see from the eagle's eyes and my own at the same time.

'Fucking finally!' I exclaimed internally, feeling a surge of triumph. After all that practice, I could inhabit my body and an animal at the same time. I thought back to the moment when I had battled with the lizard lion's mind, forcing it to swim upwards while holding it myself to hitch a ride to the surface.

'Desperation is truly the mother of invention!' I thought, feeling a rush of relief at my newfound ability.

"You are truly blessed by the Old Gods, to survive such injuries and toxins," Lord Reed remarked. "Even we, with our immunity, would not survive so much compounded damage because we lack your healing ability."

I nodded gratefully. "What can I say? I thank the Old Gods every day for that. And thank you for rescuing me from the second lizard lion and treating me."

Lord Reed nodded in acceptance of my thanks. "Aethan, here has the soup, this time without the sleeping potion mixed in. He will inform you of anything that happened in these days."

As Lord Reed left us, I eyed Aethan with a stern gaze, the steel glint of my heterochromatic eyes unmistakable. Aethan gulped nervously, well aware that even in my injured state, I could kill him in seconds. "Why?" I asked, my tone cutting through the air with sharp clarity. There was nothing else to ask, and there was no need for anything else.

Aethan composed himself before faking a smug expression. "Come on, Daemon, you're intelligent enough to understand why I goaded you into this and convinced my father to let you go to the swamp alone."

"Why, Aethan? I want your reasons, not my imagined ones," I demanded, my voice firm.

Aethan sighed heavily, his expression serious. "Well, there are two reasons for this. First is your arrogance, Daemon..."

"What?" I interrupted, incredulous. "I never thought that was the answer you'd give me. I'm not that arrogant."

"Stop it," he snapped, his tone firm. "Listen fully, then talk." I swallowed my curse and nodded, allowing him to continue.

"I have been your shadow for the last five years and observed you enough to understand you," Aethan explained. "You are arrogant and brash, Daemon. I wanted to show you that this arrogance could lead to your death and the end of this world if it's not curtailed to a lesser degree. I can understand your arrogance more than anyone else. I can feel my body becoming more inhuman as each day passes, my mind growing sharper, and my warg ability increasing, all because of your shared power. I don't even want to guess how much more you are feeling when you train. But you are still only a boy, Daemon. There are more powerful people out there who could kill you. The only thing going for you is the element of surprise. Your abilities have made you live and behave as if you are living in a state of imagined world or in a dream. As you can see, you are only alive now because I was there to scare away the second lizard lion. I goaded you so that you would temper your arrogance with enough wisdom to understand that you are not yet invincible, and the greatest threat still lies with men, not dragons in the south or Others beyond the wall."

My eyes widened as the rant continued. I couldn't believe Aethan had picked up on me showing a disregard for life and living like in a fantasy world. He was right, because I was living in a fantasy world with insane powers. If he could see that, it meant I was way over my head in arrogance.

I sighed and nodded. "You are correct, Aethan. It means I have to temper it. Thank you for saving my life after endangering it."

Aethan laughed at that. "So, what is the second reason?" I asked, curious, as I knew the first was the true reason.

Aethan hesitated, trying not to look at my face. "Yes, the second reason. What is it?" I asked sternly.

"Well, you see, I was curious about your abilities and potential," he finally admitted.

I looked at him with disbelief. "You were curious, and instead of asking me, you made me go through so much pain? What the hell were you curious about regarding my abilities that you couldn't just ask me?"

Aethan shifted uncomfortably. "You have complained about the lack of dragons and how you will bond with one many times. You have talked about having the full potential of both your bloodlines, and I wanted to confirm it," he replied.

I was completely lost. "What?"

Looking at my confused expression, Aethan explained, "Well, you see, if you have all the unlocked benefits of both bloodlines, that means you will have the Crannogman's immunity to poisons and diseases of the Neck, since we have married into the Stark line many times. You have explained that your powers work by adapting, and if once exposed, it would take more to affect you. So, I tested if it was there, and as I suspected, you have it. It allowed you to survive the poisons and diseases, with being unconscious for a week and a half, instead of moons like it would have taken for you to adapt and heal on your own. So, you should thank me, as I have confirmed you can go in front of a dragon and try to bond one without worrying about getting eaten by the beasts."

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times in clear disbelief.

"What the hell, Aethan? Are you insane and stupid? You should have just asked me why I believed I could bond with a dragon instead of experimenting using me without telling me. Then I would have told you that as a son of Targaryen, I will inherit the ability to bond with a dragon, or I would have said I have seen it," I exclaimed in frustration.

"How can you be sure, Daemon?" Aethan snarled. "You are not a Targaryen in name and not a pure Valyrian. They are famous for being sister-fuckers to maintain the ability to tame a dragon. That is the reason even for the Doctrine of Exceptionalism. No one other than a named Targaryen has ever ridden a dragon after the Doom. You have no knowledge of Dragon Riding and secrets behind it. For all I know, it may be that you have to drink Dragon's blood or something like that. For god's sake, the greatest dragon alive even tried to kill you in a vision. So I want to make sure now itself you survive a dragon before you appear in front of it years later."

I can see that Aethan only want to make sure I will survive with the information he had. It was not even my mistake, as I couldn't actually say that the Being said to me, I will be able to bond with a dragon.

I decided to reassure him. "Aethan, you don't have to worry about me. The answer is in the Targaryen words: Fire and Blood. As long as I have enough magical Valyrian blood, I can bond with them. There is no problem."

Aethan looked uncomfortable for a moment and then glanced over my injuries again, grimacing.

"Well, at least you won't get a disease that is native to Westeros, nor will you be affected by any poison in this part of the world. Maybe Sothoryos and the Faceless Men will have toxins that may have any chance of affecting you," Aethan remarked, his tone grave. "You had six different poisons running in your body, and almost all eleven of the diseases that are native to the swamps, which have destroyed the Andal armies."

"Six?" I exclaimed incredulously. "I was only bitten by two snakes! Where the hell did the other four come from?"

"You're lucky, my friend. It was only six," Aethan replied, his expression serious. "You were bitten by two snakes, three different types of spider, and the most dangerous one in the swamp water: the frog. The only reason you survived is the similarity of poisons you have been exposed to since the age of four and the unlocked immunity."

I grimaced at the thought of the number of deadly creatures that had attacked me, feeling a mixture of disbelief and relief that I had survived such a harrowing ordeal.

I tried forget the pain caused by the poisons.

"why does this sickroom have so many waste from my injuries." I asked pointing to blood stained clothes and gouged out flesh.

"It was my doing," Aethan replied. "My father ordered to burn it, but I remembered you mentioning the Red Demon in fire that consumed your blood. I wasn't sure what would happen if such a large amount of blood and your flesh were burned. So I instructed them to put it away from you, knowing you would not be affected, and even we would not be affected by it."

I nodded, recalling the fire incident. "You were correct, Aethan. Even now, this much blood will attract attention if burned. Burn the rotten flesh; there is no problem, as it is dead with venom. Wash the clothes as much as possible, and then burn them. There is no other option."

Aethan nodded.

"I will do as you say now and send more soup and food for you. I know it is essential for you to heal faster."

"Send the Lizard lion meat if you can," I said.

"Are you sure, Daemon? It is for a feast in honor of you as a Crannogman."

"Yes, I want to savor the kill now. I don't want the entire beast now itself."

"Well, I couldn't put it past you. You may even eat it fully yourself," Aethan remarked.

I grinned at him as he left imagining the torture, sorry, training I could put him when I train with him after I am done healing in two weeks.

1 Moon later

Brandon Snow

Winterfell

Brandon Snow was born in Wintertown, a village just outside the walls of Winterfell. The bastard son of a seamstress, he grew up amidst the clanging of hammers of his grandfather and the hum of sewing needles. Though he bore no blood relation to the noble House Stark, he had always felt a strong connection to the ancient castle that loomed above his home.

From a young age, Brandon was captivated by the stories of the Stark Kings and the men-at-arms who served them. He often sneaked into Winterfell's courtyard, watching the soldiers train with wide-eyed admiration. His dream was to one day become one of them, to wield a sword in service of the great house of the North.

By the time he was fifteen, his grandfather had taught him the basics of swordsmanship. Brandon's grandfather, though a blacksmith by trade, had once been a soldier and saw potential in his grandson. Encouraged by his mother and driven by his own aspirations, Brandon decided to present himself to Ser Cassel, the master-at-arms of Winterfell, and seek a position as a trainee.

Ser Cassel, a seasoned knight with a keen eye for talent, saw the determination in Brandon's eyes and agreed to take him on. Thus began Brandon's life as a young man-at-arms, training alongside other recruits and gradually earning his place among Winterfell's defenders. However, that was ten years ago, and at that time, like almost everyone else, he was also smitten by the bastard daughter of Lord Stark. She had a wild beauty and a charm that made everyone who met her love her.

Brandon had dreamed, even though he knew it was not possible, that he could prove his worth or make Lady Snow fall in love with him. But luck was, as always, with the highborn, this time with The Dragon Prince. So, when he heard about her death, he cursed The Prince and his spawn in his mind fervently. He tried to avoid seeing the child when he was little, and almost succeeded, but the child was too curious and clever. Daemon somehow knew by the time he was four that many guards didn't like him, and he started charming them to his side. Initially, Brandon scoffed at the idea of a child that young manipulating the veteran guards of Winterfell, but the silent support Daemon had from Lord Stark and his uncle made it possible. Even though it took Daemon years to charm everyone, the final arrow was the rumor someone started a couple of years ago.

Brandon and the men-at-arms laughed at the old crone who first uttered it to him. The rumor was that Daemon, blessed by the Old Gods and suffering from a fever for a week when he was four, saved the rest of the people in Winterfell from almost any sickness. There were even whispers of the Valyrian gods blessing the child, his half-colored hair as proof. The silver-white represented the weirwood, and the black represented Balerion the Black Dread. Brandon tried to dismiss such superstition among his friends, but the boy's performance in anything he put his mind to made even him have second thoughts whether the boy was truly blessed by the Gods.

Brandon knew how many hours he had put into becoming a capable swordsman, and he never saw Daemon putting in the required hours, yet his growth was legendary. Archery, knife wielding, fighting, anything athletic – both Daemon and his Crannogboy friend were prodigies in it. Brandon even once saw Daemon trying to learn singing from a bard.

Brandon was a non-believer until his journey to the Neck. He still couldn't believe his eyes when he saw his right hand. By all known means, he should have been crippled and left worthless, but something helped him heal. His anger toward Daemon Snow expired the moment Daemon addressed him personally and gave him a reward for saving him.

The Special Ale. Ale drank by the Lords and not the piss available to the smallfolk, even guards. Even that was a worthy reward for a cripple, but whatever it was, he believes it was that made him heal. The optimism Daemon showed at that time and his own healing made him a believer. Brandon knew Lord Stark could see the same devotion in his eyes as he kneels before him in the great hall during court.

"Brandon Snow, you have been crucial in keeping my grandson safe and thwarting the bandits. What reward would you want for such loyal service?"

"My Lord, I am grateful for your recognition, though I've merely fulfilled my duty. I must also extend my gratitude to Lord Daemon Snow for aiding in my recovery; I believe him to be instrumental in it," Brandon said with utmost sincerity. He noticed Lord Stark's disapproving expression and realized it wasn't meant for public disclosure. However, Brandon couldn't suppress his loyalty. While it had always been to House Stark, it now prioritized Daemon Snow, his Prince.

"I wish to serve as his sworn shield upon his return from the Neck," Brandon requested.

Lord Stark's frown deepened at Brandon's words, but he remained silent for a moment, considering the request. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very well, Brandon Snow. Your loyalty to my grandson does not go unnoticed. When Daemon returns, you shall be appointed as his sworn shield, to protect him with your life if need be."

Authors note: Poor Daemon!! becoming an experiment and being humbled by your own friend.

Next chapter, the meeting of the northern lords where Daemon and LS reveals the plan to address the problem of the gift and Night's Watch.

Looking forward to the reactions, comments and discussions!!!

NOTICE: Life its you hard and i have to balance my time until november 15th, so i am only updating my hp and mha fics in pate ron and for the public in QQ along with FFN and AO3. i will only post here and alternate history after november this year. sorry for the inconvenience.

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