I awoke with a gasp, although I lacked a physical body to draw breath. The starry sky above me sparkled with hypnotic lights. My previous life played in my mind with perfect clarity - an ordinary existence of learning, working, starting a family, and eventually succumbing to old age. There was nothing exceptional about my life; I was far from a virtuous individual, lacking the good karma often associated with reincarnation stories I used to enjoy as entertainment. I often fantasized about wielding personal power, contemplating what it would be like to be an apex being in a world of my own.

Suddenly, an ethereal voice resonated around me, breaking my thoughts. "Aha, you are correct in that, you have no good karma. You are nothing, just a little speck in the wheel of life and death. I choose you randomly." I glanced around and questioned the unseen entity, "What are you? What do you want with me?"

"It doesn't matter what I am. What matters is what we can agree on," the voice replied. "If you disagree, nothing will happen, and you will be thrown into the wheel, where you shall be recycled and born anew. The offer is this: I need personal entertainment. As an omni-being, even the multiverse is starting to become boring for me. There is a small enemy of mine that has spread across many universes. Your job is to hunt down beings corrupted by him. You can have four wishes for power. The first world you will be born into is A Song of Ice and Fire. It is a world where many entities are infected by my enemy. You must destroy them, find the veil of death present in every world, and walk through it to leave the world. At that time, you can keep any powers, possessions, and travel to the next world. You will be non-aging and functionally immortal, but you can be killed like any other mortal. So, choose your powers wisely."

The opportunity overwhelmed me. To visit Westeros, one of my favourite TV series worlds, was tempting. The offer of any powers was irresistible, despite the restrictions. I envisioned being overpowered and enjoying life in the new world.

"Naa naa," the voice chastised. "Let me clarify. You cannot choose any powers that would break the world. Only unremarkable powers can be selected. The more power you wish for, the more the world increases in danger. Let me help you with this, You are going to be a son of the most powerful magical bloodlines of that world, so choose your wishes with that in mind "

 Undeterred, I carefully considered my wishes, knowing that personal power was crucial in the tumultuous world of Westeros.

"Of course, I will keep that in mind," I replied. It seemed to me that I would be reborn as Jon Snow, with the Stark and Targaryen bloodlines, promising a unique combination of magical potential. Being a bastard in Westeros was a challenge, and I deemed being a Targaryen without a dragon worthless. My resolve solidified: I want to be both physically and magically powerful, preparing the North for the impending Long Night. The Night's King or White walkers or others, will be infected by the Great Enemy of this Omni-Being. It will be impossible if they have 8000 years of corpses saved up

After contemplating the dire challenges ahead, I presented my wishes to the Omni-Being.

"Omni-Being, my wishes are: I want to have limitless potential of mind, body, and soul." The being nodded, acknowledging the intelligence in my choice. It assured me that this wish would not cause major changes in the danger level.

"I want to have the adaptation powers of Doomsday," I declared, considering the hazardous landscape of Westeros. The being, however, deemed this power too world-breaking. I cursed at my bad luck, undeterred, I proposed a modified version, removing the resurrection aspect and limiting the adaptation to 1% of Doomsday, with healing up to twenty percent of Wolverine's capabilities.

"You are a greedy little shit, The limitless potential and adaptation will help you grow more than the world's power level, but since the base is not world breaking, I will allow it. Know that there will be consequences for this wish. The world will be changed from what you expect and foreknowledge would be the lowest cost for this wish." the being retorted.

For my next wish, I requested the ability to temporarily pass my adaptation and regeneration power from every part of my body, including blood, if it was present in the consumed being's physical structure.

The Being at first laughed mockingly and said, "I never pegged you for such a selfless person. Whatever, it is acceptable. Know that fate is cold bitch and if you increase the world's power level too much then my enemy can also increase it, but you are in luck as the great enemy as increased his powers so much now that it would be very hard for you to be affected by this cost."

Expressing gratitude for the information, I presented my fourth wish. I sought the talent for instinctual learning of everything – psychic, martial, social, soul, and magic talents – inspired by stories from the Waifu Catalogue. To mitigate the cost, I requested a slower development than the original talents.

"Hmm," the being nodded, recognizing my cunning approach. It remarked on the seemingly modest power of each wish individually but acknowledged the potential when combined. With an enigmatic declaration, the being concluded, "The base is strong, may the Fate let you develop it. Let the game of thrones begin."

As the being's words faded, a bright light enveloped me, and consciousness slipped away into the unknown.

Winterfell.

I do not know how much time has passed after my meeting with the Being. The room was warm, adorned with white and grey walls, and I found myself swaddled in a cozy blanket. I was sure this was the legendary Winterfell. Distant shouts echoed around me, prompting my annoyance, particularly towards a Tully bitch, who seemed to be causing a disturbance, at least I know no one else who may shout near me for any reason at this point of time.

Determined to cease the commotion, I unleashed a loud cry. Miraculously, the voices hushed almost instantly. Amid the stillness, a teenager with an ethereal appearance approached my crib. His beautiful face boasted purple-violet eyes and silver-white hair, reminiscent of glaciers. Despite his striking features, a mixture of hope and sadness played across his expression.

"He is alive!" the teenager exclaimed. "My son is alive. Lord Stark, call the maester now."

My heart sank as I realized the implications of this revelation. I cursed my bad luck. The being had fucked me over; I was not reincarnated as Jon Snow, my desired persona. Instead, I found myself entangled in the complexities of another life. I bemoaned the wasted wish that was meant to empower my allies for the impending Long Night. The being played me as he never said Jon Snow. I was overjoyed by thinking that I will be reincarnated as Jon Snow. he was my favourite character even though the show made a mockery of the story by speed running S7 and S8. I liked the ending Jon received as he was only truly free when he was beyond the wall, just chilling. I always know the story will not have a happy ending with Jon and Dany in the throne, it was acceptable, at least Jon got his rest. Now I do not even know which year it is or who I am.

A man with grey eyes, resembling the Starks described in the books, approached me. His hair showed signs of aging, and his eyes reflected love and immense relief. The Stark hurriedly instructed a nearby guard to summon the maester.

"My Prince, it is a happy day. Do not worry; my grandson is of the Starks. A little winter fever will not take him. My daughter is also special; she will survive. What will you name him?" the Stark asked.

"I... I do not know. Lord Benjen, I just wished the raven from my father the King will arrive shortly that will allow me to marry your daughter. " The Prince replied, cradling me in his arms. I could feel the affection in his gaze, but I could not shake the realization that I was likely a bastard. Yet, in the grand scheme of my goals, personal power surpassed the significance of social status in the medieval world of Planetos.

The maester, with a weasel-like face and cunning eyes, entered the room, adding an air of authority and expertise to the situation.

"My prince, Lord Stark, I regret to inform you that Lady Lyarra Snow has passed away. The blood and childbirth fever were too much."

At the mention of "Snow," the weight of my bastard status and the foreseen complications in my life hit me like a bitter gust of wind. Observing my father's gaze shifting from heartbreaking sadness to a flicker of rage directed at me, I sensed the storm brewing within him. A loud roar echoed from outside. I wet my bladder at shock. Lord stark took me carefully from my father as he must have seen the rage in the prince's eyes.

Lord Stark looked at me. his face had sadness for a daughter lost, but also acceptance of the fate occurred. He did not have a pint of rage against me and I clearly wished I will be brought up in Winterfell. I was also happy at the roar as the dragons are still alive at this point of time. 

"My Prince, your rage at your son is not good. It happens in childbirth. I also lost my daughter, yet I still love my grandson, an innocent babe. What shall he be named?"

 The Prince looked at Lord Stark, his face blank from overstimulation of emotions. I understood that my father is near a break.

"Daemon, his name shall be Daemon Snow. I lost my love today. I do not know what to do now." The Prince replied sadly.

"It is ok son. All will be well in time." a melodic female voice said from the entrance of the room. 

"Your Grace, I apologise for not welcoming you in the courtyard. I did not hear your dragon roar." My grandfather bowed and said even with me in his hand.

"It is of no consequence Lord Stark, The Queen said looking at Lord Stark, "I deliberately did not announce my arrival. your master in arms welcomed me when I landed in the courtyard and guided me here. you have my condolences for your lost daughter." 

My father could not hold back any longer. He snapped, "Mother, why was there no raven for almost a moon. I sent it one moon back. Why was not I allowed to marry my love. Now it is all over. My child's mother id dead and now it is not possible. What was more important than this. Now I lost my love to my own child, a child who killed her."

Well fuck you too father. I thought to myself and destroyed any plans with the Targaryen's helping me for anything. It seems that there will be no dragon for me for a long time.

"Aemon, my son, we would never allow the heir to Iron Throne to marry a bastard, even a daughter of Lord Stark," the queen said with a pitiful voice and grimaced remembering who else was in the room, "well apologies, Lord Stark for that. It seems that I am tired from the long journey"

Well, well, finally I knew who I was. I was the bastard son of Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen, son of King Jaehaerys the Conciliator. I can guess the time period to be after 65 AC as the Pince was born in 55 AC in cannon.

Lord Stark stared at the Queen with a cold face. "Apologies accepted Your Grace. You should not insult the dead, especially in front of a parent of the dead person and I know and told prince Aemon that your graces shall never accept this request for marriage, but he still wished to make it for his love. I will be eternally grateful and loyal to him for that." My grandfather concluded and bowed to my father.

The Queen grimaced at the slight and her sworn shield started to voice something when the queen raised her hand to stop her.

"Prince Aemon," The Queen addressed her son, "what do you intend to do with the child, now that the mother is dead. The King, your father has ordered for you to return to kings landing as soon as possible and your tour of the realm is over for now. He has already denied the permission for your marriage and ordered the child to be brought up in the north by its mother. I suggest that you follow this order and let the Stark's raise him as he is a snow." The Queen walked forward to look at her first grandson. As she came near, I saw a pretty face with honey-coloured curls and blue eyes. The eyes had no warmth for me. It only had plain dismissal for the dragonseed.

 "Yes, I will follow the order," the Prince said. "It is better he grows up here, I do not want to see him and remember my loss for the rest of my days. Lord Stark, he is to grow up in the North and not to come to south for any matter unless called by me or the King. I know that there is no need for it but House Targaryen will provide a sum of dragons annually for his upkeep after I reach Kings Landing."

The Prince looked at me for a last time. His eyes were on my eyes. I tried to send the words with my eyes that I want to yell at his hateful face at least once, -Fuck you too!!! My father's eyes widen for a brief second as he may have felt my disdain. He and the Bitch Queen left the room. My Grandfather carefully put me back in crib and tucked me lovingly.

 Then and there as I slowly started to sleep, I decided that the Targs may follow the stupid cannon and die for all I care, I would not save any of them.