A Different Song (ASOIAF- OC/Reincarnation)

78AC
Daemon Snow
The Godswood was silent except for the sound of wooden swords clashing. I was sparring with my sworn sword, Brandon, in a clearing in the Godswood. Winterfell was packed with the lords of the North, their families, and retainers. The usual training ground was filled with heirs measuring their prowess, and I had no patience to entertain them. Even though my uncle was above their squabbles due to his age, they might still try to needle me, especially because of the rumors and my close association with Heir Reed.
After returning from the Neck, Brandon was assigned to me by my grandfather. Initially, I had tried to reject the assignment, but after understanding that Brandon was insanely loyal to me, I accepted it. It was a good decision, especially as my pride had been shattered in the Neck, and having a supportive companion was good for my recovering confidence. The fact that he was good with a sword was just a bonus, as my own talent improved as we sparred daily. He even shared some memories of my mother with me, which was awkward as I did not know how to feel about her. My feelings about my father were way more easier—he didn't care about me, and I didn't care about him—a perfect quid pro quo.
 My observations using my eagle as eyes in the south confirmed that Aemon was happily married to Jocelyn and secure in his position as Heir and Master of Laws. He was eagerly expecting the birth of the future Rhaenys. The care he gave the unborn child and Jocelyn Baratheon made me ponder what-ifs. It would have been easier for me had I been a Targaryen, but I must deal with the hand I was dealt with. I am not mad at them for the abandonment as I have no need for a new family in this life, I am mad at targs because I lost the easy way to grab power: The Dragons. I am also mad that I has to sacrifice capable dragons and dragonriders to stupidity of the canon making my quest that much harder, so that I could finally get away with claiming a full grown dragon. More over Balerion would have survived his wounds if I had been in Kingslanding, but now the greatest living dragon will be lost to mankind.
My thoughts were interrupted as Brandon's sword struck my left arm, breaking my guard.
 "It seems the praise you bestow on your friend is biased, Aethan," a female voice said from the edge of the clearing.
 Brandon tensed as neither of us had heard her approach. I motioned for him to stop sparring and turned to see who had spoken.
 The owner of the voice was a tall, strong girl with a lean build that reflected her warrior training. She had the distinctive look of the Mormonts, with long brown hair and green eyes. I had seen her with Lady Mormont when she was received by Lord Stark in the courtyard and guest rights were exchanged. From my room in the castle, she had not seemed impressive, but up close, there was something about her that was undeniably attractive. My heart beat got faster, suddenly I felt nervous talking to her. I knew she must be one of Lady Mormont's daughters; according to my knowledge, the elder one was fourteen and the younger one thirteen, though they both looked at least a seventeen-year-old in my eyes.
 "Well, Lyra, Daemon is always lost in his head when he's sparring with us because he knows we'd be careful. I've been trying to beat it out of him, but it seems the lesson hasn't stuck," Aethan said.
 "Don't be like that, Aethan," I interjected. "You know if I concentrated hard enough, the bout would be over in the blink of an eye, and no one would learn anything. Please introduce this fine young lady to me."
 "Daemon, this is Lyra Mormont, daughter of Lady Dacey Mormont. Lyra, this is Daemon Snow," Aethan introduced us with a mischievous smile.
 "Even on Bear Island, we've heard the rumors of you being the blessed son of the Old Gods and Dragon Gods, how you suffered some childhood sickness for a week for the prosperity of the North. Horseshit, I say. The only truth among the stories is that you're a cute little boy," Lyra said mockingly.
 My heart skipped a beat at the ultimate taunt from a girl who, for some reason, had made me develop a crush on her in minutes. May be it was because of my crush on warrior women's from my previous life. I grimaced, knowing that even though I looked like a fourteen-year-old, I was only eleven, shorter than her and have no chance as of now.
 "I am not a little boy, my lady. I am skilled enough to have fought my first battle years ago and had my first kill then, too. If you doubt the stories or even Aethan, we can schedule a spar here, and you can personally taste my steel," I said respectfully.
 Lyra's eyes widened for a moment, and she snorted. "Well, you talk like a little adult, at least. We will spar later."
The Meeting
The Lords of the North were assembling in the Great Hall of Winterfell while I waited with my grandfather in a nearby room accessible only to the Starks. The room had a perfect view of the Great Hall, though the people in the hall couldn't see us.
 I was slightly nervous, knowing that life was about to change forever as I officially entered the Game of Thrones. I knew the Game would pull me in, even if I didn't want the throne or to be king.
"Daemon," the calm voice of my grandfather called, pulling me from my thoughts as he placed a supportive hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure about this, son? Maybe I could suggest the plan instead. No one would guess it originated from a 10-year-old. I will be the one to bear the consequences."
 "No, Grandfather. I will be the one to propose it; only then will the plan be effective. Otherwise, House Stark will lose more than we gain by it. There is more to this than just the King's response; we can identify who is a spy in this castle and who works for other masters."
 "Daemon, I care more about our family than our strength. We have endured for thousands of years and will do so again. The Iron Throne is at its most powerful now, with six adult dragon riders and the entire South united under the Conciliator. Are you sure you have to provoke the Queen now? We can still consider this option later when the Crown is not so powerful."
 "Grandfather, thank you for the care, but as I told you, I am already eleven now, and I can easily survive the Wolfswood. My powers have grown significantly, and as you know, I can even spar with you and keep up. I could easily escape any ambush. Without knowing my healing power, no one could subdue me before I could escape. This is the perfect time to implement this plan, as the King will be fed up with the complaints about the problems in the Gift. If he is the Conciliator, he will see the solution in this and won't rescind the contract. With all my observations of him and the small council meetings I've caught, I am almost sure that the King will support any plan that doesn't make the Targaryens appear weak, or at least weaker than the current situation. The entire Kingslanding knows that the Queen's decision has led to this, and the more we complain, the more nobles will hear about it, making the Crown appear foolish. So, I am sure that this plan, coming from his own blood, will be something he wants to use. He will not punish House Stark more than with a slap on the wrist, and any punishment for me for disrespecting the Queen will be worth it when I see my bitch of a grandmother's face as she realizes she royally messed up and her bastard grandson got one over her."
 Grandfather nodded gravely at me, understanding that I would not back down from the decision. "It always astounds me how you can connect with your animals from such a distance. Anyway, I have warned you. Let us hope your conclusions are correct."
The Great Hall of Winterfell was a grand and imposing space, its stone walls adorned with the banners of the noble houses of the North. A roaring fire blazed in the massive hearth at one end of the hall, casting flickering shadows across the room and providing warmth against the chill that permeated even the thickest stone walls. Heavy wooden tables, laden with maps and goblets of strong Northern ale, were arranged in a semi-circle around a raised dais where the lord of Winterfell, Lord Stark, presided. The dais had four seats, all occupied by my grandfather, my two uncles, and myself. Uncle Bennard had a frown and kept looking at me as if I would vanish if he glared hard enough. No matter what, I couldn't charm or befriend him, and no wonder he had been kept out of the loop about my role today when my grandfather informed his heir, uncle Rickon.
The hall was filled with the low hum of conversation, the deep voices of the Northern lords mingling with the crackle of the fire. I could feel eyes on me as the lords questioned each other why there was an eleven-year-old bastard seated during the meeting, though no one dared voice it to my grandfather. The only lords who didn't frown or question my presence were Lord Theomore Manderly and Lord Reed. Even I felt uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. These men were hardy and robust, their faces weathered by harsh winters and their bodies honed by a life of toil and battle. They wore thick furs and woolen cloaks, their attire practical and unadorned, save for the sigils of their houses emblazoned proudly on their chests.
 Lord Stark, my grandfather, seated in a high-backed wooden chair draped with the direwolf banner of House Stark, called the meeting to order with a firm but measured voice. His presence commanded respect, and the room fell silent as he stood to address the assembly.
"Thank you all for coming," he began, his gaze sweeping across the gathered lords. "We face many challenges in these dark times, and it is more important than ever that we stand united. I must also thank everyone as you have all followed my instruction of informing the King about the problems outside our borders."
"Lord Stark, don't patronize us," Lord Karstark grumbled. "We all know there was something more in the works for you to order such a ludicrous thing. The King will not change the rules as it was the Queen who made them. They will never acknowledge the mistake, as it would be a huge black spot on their rule. Our only hope is that Prince Aemon will understand the damage done and change the law enacted by King Jaehaerys when he ascends to the throne." Lord Karstark looked at me as he mentioned Prince Aemon, trying to gauge my reaction, but he found nothing.
 Lord Umber, tall and broad-shouldered with a thick beard, scowled. "I am nearer to the Wall than anyone else and have important news to share. There has been an increasing number of defectors in the Watch, mostly people sent as punishment from the south by the King. These deserters are a blight. They break their sacred oaths and bring shame upon the Watch. They must be hunted down and brought to justice."
 "Aye," agreed Lady Mormont, fierce and resolute. "We cannot allow them to destabilize our lands. We must support the Night's Watch in tracking and capturing defectors. Moreover, many have joined the Wildlings and gained support by defeating them. Wildlings love nothing more than corrupting a man of the Night's Watch and watching brothers fight each other. The influx of smallfolk from New Gift and Old Gift to our lands has been mainly due to the Night's Watch's inability to protect them from such defectors. The increasing population has been both a curse and a blessing."
Every lord was grave, and anger was visible on each face about the oathbreakers daring to act on their lands.
 "Lord Umber, Lady Mormont, these problems all stem from the fact that the Night's Watch is overworked by the New Gift and their inability to manage such a large amount of land. Everything we do to hunt down the defectors will be a bandage to the problem, not the cure. The cure could only be the return of our stolen fertile land. Lord Karstark is correct that there is more to the plan than you lot wasting gold by sending messengers and letters constantly. However, Lord Karstark, you are wrong if you think that any future king will change the rules established by the current king. No king will dare, as they will grow up hearing the legend of King Jaehaerys the Wise, the Conciliator, and the Good King. They will believe he could do no wrong and nothing will change. Fortunately, the answer came from a surprising source—my own grandson, Daemon Snow, who had a very good idea on how to reclaim the New Gift. The agreement has already been reached with Lord Commander Ryswell and will be signed after this meeting."
 I observed the lords' reactions as my grandfather named me the source of the idea, to see which lords were against me from the start. My guesses were correct. Manderly and Reed, knowing my intelligence and skills, never looked doubtful. However, the frowns on the faces of Karstark, Umber, and Glover were expected. Karstark and Umber are the most affected, and any agreement without their input will be questioned by them. Bolton, on the other hand, was looking at me like juicy meat, trying to figure out how to use me for his purposes. If my guess was correct, he expects me to be another Greystark, which is an awfully wrong guess on his part.
"Lord Stark, respectfully, I would like to ask one thing," Lord Dustin said calmly. "Was it wise to enact a plan proposed by a five-year-old child? It has been nearly six years since we began voicing our complaints to the King."
 Everyone became grave as Lord Dustin questioned Lord Stark. Despite the tension in the room, no one could protest against the question due to Lord Dustin's impeccable reputation as both a warrior and a lord. Observing him, I could see how a son raised by this man could become Roddy the Ruin during the Dance of the Dragons.
 Lord Stark smiled at Lord Dustin. "As always, you ask the pertinent question, my dear friend. Daemon has always been special, a genius beyond comparison. I recognized this when he was four. His ideas have already proven to be effective. I am not foolish enough to enact a plan bordering on treason that could cost the North so much based solely on the say-so of a child without proof of his ideas. Lord Manderly and Lord Reed will inform you of the results of his ideas."
 "As you all have heard, the trade fleet was a roaring success," Lord Manderly said with happiness. "Out of 50 ships, 29 returned carrying goods that allowed us to recover the costs of the entire fleet and brought huge profits. Moreover, my son has established trade with many of the Free Cities and mapped out a faster route than simply going along the coast. A new food grain called rice was obtained and given to Lord Reed to try and grow in the swamps of the North. This entire movement was developed by Lord Stark, but the idea came from Daemon Snow. He was the one who suggested looking for rice grains in Yi-Ti specifically. He used his funds to pay for the fleet, and the navigation technique he developed helped the sailors immensely in avoiding pirates and bad weather."
Lord Reed nodded in agreement. "The rice has been successfully grown in the swamps after some trial and error. This will be a huge boost to our food reserves. Moreover, Daemon has proven to be exceedingly brave as he successfully thwarted a bandit ambush on the way to the Neck. He even had his first kill that day and later hunted down a lizard lion, a rite of passage to adulthood in the Neck. So, I have no complaints regarding the origin of the plan if Lord Stark approves it," Lord Reed finished with absolute loyalty to the Stark in Winterfell.
"Roderick, I hope you are satisfied as to why I decided to go forward with a plan from my grandson. We, the Starks, have always been capable of handling responsibilities from a young age; our history proves it. So I will allow Daemon to explain his plan to you," Lord Stark concluded.
 Every eye in the hall concentrated on me, and I felt nervous for a second. However, over the last eleven years, my talent for learning had allowed me to pick up many social skills by observing Lord Stark holding court or meetings. It all came together as I started to explain the plan. Even though the plan would be executed regardless of the major lords' opposition, I did not want to make it difficult for my grandfather by showing poor presentation.
 "Lord Stark, Uncles," I stood up from my chair and bowed, "and my Lords, the ownership of the land is given to the Night's Watch by the crown. We, as loyal subjects, couldn't take back ownership without it being treason. The Night's Watch can use the land as it sees fit as they are not under the power of the Iron Throne. The Night's Watch isn't utilizing the land as it should be, and it is wasted in their hands. They used to rent the land to smallfolk as all the lords do with their lands, but since the protection is weak, the smallfolk have fled from there. In the history of the Seven Kingdoms, no lord has ever rented land from others; only a landed person could be noble. The idea is to rent out the entire New Gift from the Night's Watch for a small annual fee in taxes and the continued aid from House Stark. The contract is called a lease, and it couldn't be ended without both parties agreeing to end it. As such, the Iron Throne couldn't do anything to the Night's Watch without starting a war with them and being termed a new Maegor. I am sure my grandfather will be even happier for a solution to his constant headache from the North's complaints and appearing as an inefficient King."
The lords looked perplexed, never having heard of such a scheme, even from Essos.
 "HAHAHA!" Lord Umber's laughter echoed through the hall. "That is a very intelligent move. If someone asked if it is treason, then it is not treason, and if someone asks, 'isn't it treason,' then it is treason. The land is still owned by the Night's Watch, but we, who lost the lands, could get the benefits and use of our lands back for a small fee. I wish I could see the face of the Good Queen when she hears about this. It was at Last Hearth that she promised lands to the Night's Watch, and I advised her it was foolish to increase their work, but she was not convinced by a Giant Man whose talents lie on the battlefield."
 I smiled wolfishly. "I, too, wish to see her face when she realizes that the idea came from her first grandson, whom she abandoned and didn't even care to hold, even once, when I survived battling death for two weeks. But, Lord Umber, you misunderstood me."
 "What did I misunderstand?" Lord Umber grumbled, his face showing no trace of mirth.
 "You said those who lost the lands, which unfortunately includes you and Lord Karstark. But this plan will not be effective unless it is done by House Stark itself. As such, the lease is between House Stark and the Night's Watch directly for the entire New Gift and will be under the direct control of Winterfell. The Iron Throne will not tolerate such a method from small houses. Only a Great House can be successful without the Iron Throne punishing harshly. In fact, the King will realize that House Stark is making a sacrifice by taking the responsibility of the New Gift, as the Night's Watch could always rent out the lands to anyone, and I am sure the King will not be happy if some Essosi slaver or pirate decides to make a port in the New Gift. Moreover, I am sure when my grandmother hears about this, she will be enraged with me more than anything, and any punishment will be upon me rather than House Stark or the North."
 I was expecting a very vocal non-acceptance from Umber, but I was surprised.
 "NO! I WILL NOT HAVE A BASTARD SAYING WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO AND HAVING MY LANDS STOLEN AGAIN!" Lord Karstark yelled.
"I agree," Lord Bolton's silky voice rose in support. "We were robbed once by the King, and now even the Starks are doing this as our reward for loyalty."
"Silence!" My grandfather's cold voice echoed, and there was a presence that silenced everyone. I looked at him carefully, as even I didn't want to speak. Something told my instincts to hide or flee. I looked around, and no lords dared to meet the cold eyes of my grandfather. The only ones who dared were me and my elder uncle.
 "Lord Karstark, I will forgive you this once because of our kinship for insulting my grandson when he has done more for the prosperity of the North in his decade of life than you have in your four decades of life. There was nothing for you to protest as the contract has already been signed by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and the only pending signature is mine. This meeting was a courtesy by me to inform all of you of House Stark's dealings with the Night's Watch. We have no need for your permission to use our gold for renting some lands. Lord Bolton, I didn't rob anything from any of the northern lords, as they have had no ownership of the lands for many years. I will decide which lords are entrusted with what lands, and you have fallen to the bottom of the list."
 I observed as Lord Bolton swallowed hard, trying to hide his panic.
 "I apologize, My Lord Stark. My own feelings for the injustice suffered by the northmen blinded me to the true reason for your actions—the prosperity and safety of the North."
 "Let it not be repeated again, Lord Bolton," my grandfather said with a chilling tone. He continued in a less severe tone, "This move has great risk, and House Stark has decided to not endanger others while the benefit will be felt by the entire North. Let us discuss matters other than the Night's Watch."
Everyone nodded at the implicit order, and the meeting diverted to more mundane matters that made me warg into my animals to escape the monotony of it.
Authors Note: Well, lease agreements are introduced to 7 kingdoms by Daemon for going against the spirit of the order of Iron Throne. I hope not everyone guessed that. 
Next 3 Chapters: A small King's landing Arc where we see more of the lovely Targaryen family drama and the butterfly effect of happenings of this chapter.
Looking forward to the reactions, comments and discussions!!! 

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