Daemon Snow
Winterfell
74AC
I looked at the sleeping form of my newborn cousin, Cregan Stark. He was cute as button and has a huge pair of lungs. My Grandfather had ensured that his daughter in law is as healthy as possible by making her drink a fake potion made out of my blood in addition to the usual amount in the water and the foods. The birth was hard, but she survived unlike my mother. My grandfather entered the room at that time and he looked at me surprised as it is the first time I am in the nursery to see my younger cousin.
"Daemon, It is good you have finally decided to visit your younger cousin, people were starting to think that you don't care for him and hate him for taking your spotlight as the baby of the family.
I looked at him and scoffed, "Grandfather, in the past year you have understood me like no one else, and even my own endeavor to present a front failed on you. You do know that I don't care for him beyond the use I will have for him as lord stark, when he ascends years and years later. I can't care for any of you as I know I will outlive every one of you and my own empathy is burned out of me."
Grandfather looked at me with his mysterious smirk that usually enrages me at the mocking in it, like he doesn't believe me.
"Daemon, you may believe so, but I will ask you one question. Will you harm him or try to usurp his position as Lord Stark."
I scoffed upon hearing the question and replied firmly, "You know well that ruling over Winterfell is not my purpose. I have no intention of causing harm to him. If I desire power, it is the Iron Throne and a dragon that I seek—a right denied to me despite being the firstborn grandchild of the king. The position of Lord Stark does not interest me. Yet even those ambitions pale in comparison to my true calling, which extends far beyond mere kingship."
"And that is why I said you care for us, Daemon. Whatever horrors you have endured, they haven't broken you, and you continue to fight. Even now, I can see the additional weights you've concealed under your woolen clothes and tied to your limbs, biting into your skin. I don't know how you tolerate the coldness of the metal along with the burden of the weights. I've told you to stop this; you're too young to bear such burdens on your body."
"As I've told you, Grandfather, it's not a problem for me. My body will heal naturally, and any issues that arise will resolve themselves in time," I replied calmly.
Grandfather was frustrated that I ignored his advice on this matter, but he set it aside for another time.
"Daemon, your warging abilities have improved significantly, and your eagle companion has grown alongside you. You can now see through the eyes of cats and rats. I believe it's time to develop your greensight and open your third eye," he remarked.
I felt immediate excitement, eagerly anticipating the ability to witness the past like a movie. Living in a medieval world was dreadfully boring, devoid of entertainment. I derived amusement from introducing basic hygiene practices to the population—such as boiling water before drinking, daily bathing, and maintaining clean water sources—and observing their genuine shock in response. My grandfather initially implemented my suggestions on a small scale, later applying them across Winterfell and the lands under his direct control if successful.
"Aye, that is good news, grandfather. I've been awaiting your permission. When will we do this?"
"I will prepare the Weirwood paste today, and you will drink it tomorrow night at the Godswood. Are you ready for the consequences and the pain? The paste is said to be pure poison that even affects the Gods, and only the blessing of the Old Gods will save you," my grandfather cautioned.
I looked at my grandfather with determination to become the ultimate voyeur, enveloped in my thoughts. Internally, I smirked, confident that I would survive the poison without the blessings of the Old Gods due to my adaptation and healing abilities. Over the past year, I had deliberately consumed various poisons in smaller doses, building up my immunity to almost all of them. In anticipation of consuming the weirwood paste, I had even begun chewing on weirwood leaves, which initially made me sick and tired for an entire week. However, months of practice had granted me a small immunity to the substance, ensuring I could survive the paste's poison on my own.
"I am as ready as possible, Grandfather. I have no fear of the poison, as I am confident I will survive even if my third eye is not opened and I do not gain the ability of Greensight," I reassured him. I am confident because even if, I didn't have it originally, which is not possible to check, I definitely has something now as my Talent has picked something from watching Aethan using his Greensight.
Lord Stark nodded and dismissed me from the nursery.
Godswood
Lord Stark awaited us as we entered the godswood. Aethan Reed had become one of my few true friends, displaying unwavering loyalty in the short year we had spent together. He shared his experiences of greensight and taught me the meditation techniques used by the Reeds to unlock this ability. In return, I trained with him in knife wielding skills, and he attempted to keep up with my routines, avoiding permanent injury only due to my shared power. He never divulged what he had seen through his greensight unless ordered by Lord Stark.
The night was cold and eerily silent, unlike a typical forest at night. There was no wind, and the usual sounds of insects were absent. The Weirwood tree, with its carved face, seemed to smile faintly, its eyes oozing red sap. Lord Stark stood solemnly before the tree, his hands and chin resting on the hilt of Ice, the sword's pointed end piercing the ground. In front of the tree, a bowl of white soup sat, into which the red sap dripped incessantly. Remarkably, despite the continuous flow, the bowl did not overflow.
As we entered, my grandfather looked at me and asked, "Daemon, are you sure you're ready for this? The pain of consuming this poison is said to be crippling, and we already have a greenseer. There's no need for you to suffer as well."
I knew the pain would be excruciating and grimaced inwardly, but outwardly, I remained calm. This power upgrade was too important to me. While I had been diligently improving my physical abilities, there was still much to be done for my mental prowess beyond warging. According to my grandfather, my progress in skinchanging was unprecedented, with my learning talent absorbing skills from him and even Aethan Reed. I could already connect with animals beyond my sight, provided they were already 'broken in' by another skinchanger.
However, I struggled to maintain control over both my body and a controlled animal simultaneously, a challenge I had been attempting since the outset. When I brought this up to my grandfather, he laughed, dismissing it as an outrageous notion, claiming no one had achieved it before.
Undeterred, I continued to experiment with various mental techniques inspired by fiction. I practiced Occlumency through meditation and clearing my mind, which helped me enter an animal's mind more swiftly. Additionally, I attempted to create a mental shield by visualizing one, even though I was uncertain of its feasibility in our world. Despite the uncertainty, I resolved to practice diligently because maintaining my independent mind was crucial to me, especially given the existence of powerful wargs capable of entering and potentially controlling my mind.
"Grandfather, I am sure about this. There is no gain without pain," I replied firmly.
He nodded in acknowledgment and gestured for me to sit at the base of the weirwood tree with my back against it. I obeyed, settling myself cross-legged on the massive roots with my back to the tree. As I positioned myself, the red sap dripping from the tree's eyes gradually ceased, yet I could still sense its cool, tingling sensation sliding down my back, making my skin feel simultaneously colder and hotter.
My grandfather then handed me a bowl containing a foul-smelling potion that I was certain would taste terrible. Knowing I had no choice but to endure this ordeal, I tightly closed my eyes, tried to ignore the smell, and swiftly gulped down the contents of the bowl in one go.
The potion felt like drinking acid as it seared down my throat, the intense heat and oily sensation causing discomfort. As soon as it reached my stomach, an excruciating pain unlike anything I had experienced before struck me. My eyes rolled upwards, and I lost consciousness, overwhelmed by the intense agony.
VISION
I awoke suddenly, taking a deep breath to calm myself, anticipating pain, but to my surprise, I felt nothing. I realized I was in a vision. Looking around, I found myself in a Godswood that, though smaller, eerily resembled Winterfell's surroundings, yet there was no castle in the distance. I watched as a giant of a man approached the Hearttree, clothed in wool with an Ice blade at his side. He bowed before the tree.
"Old Gods, may your blessing be given as I decide to build my castle here. This will be the home of my descendants and the Kings of Winter," he prayed.
I gasped as I witnessed this legendary figure in prayer. He suddenly opened his eyes, glancing around. I was certain he would have seen me if his Greensight hadn't been destroyed by the Red Demon. He returned to the clearing, speaking of building, and then memories hit my mind like a dragon's tail.
Images of the Long Night passed before my eyes in a blur. The storied history of the Kings of Winter's wars with the Warg King, the Barrow Kings, and the Red Kings flashed by. The lives of Brandon the Shipwright, Brandon the Burner, and Theon the Hungry Wolf taught me lessons as they raced through my consciousness. Eventually, I was thrust away by the weirwood, flying southward. The sky stretched vast above, and people below resembled ants. Finally, I arrived at my destination: the island of Dragonstone.
As I approached the great keep of my family's fathers, a sudden black shadow enveloped me, sparking panic. Rolling back, I beheld The Black Dread looming above me. After a moment of pure awe I realised that his eyes were fixed on me and he is staying afloat in the air without advancing forward. For the first time since this new life had begun, genuine fear seized me. The Dragon peered down at me as if deciphering a puzzle, letting out a thunderous roar. His unblinking black eyes remained fixed upon me, watching intently.
I didn't know what to do, unsure if the magical flames in this vision could harm my mind or soul. I attempted to project calmness, respect, and feelings of kinship to the Great Dragon through my Warg abilities. However, my mind encountered a formidable barrier, like a firewall of black stone, and the dragon's eyes quickly turned malicious and rageful.
Cursing myself, I realized he must have been bonded to someone during this time, perceiving my intrusion as a threat to that bond. Before the dragon could unleash fire, I attempted to speak in Valyrian, words I had picked up from maesters and books, while projecting images in a desperate attempt to communicate and show respect.
"Great Dragon, forgive me for wishing to contact you. I am Daemon, son of Aemon, grandson of Jaeherys, great-grandnephew of Maegor, and great-great-grandson of Aegon Targaryen." This time I was able to stop before I slammed to the Firewall in The Dragon's mind.
The moment the dragon heard the names Maegor and Aegon, he became calm and snorted for some reason. A rumble emanated from his mouth, almost like he was laughing at my proclamation. Despite the fire burning my mind, I heard a reply in my mind.
My eyes widened in surprise at the sound.
"You may be a future child of my current rider, young one, but the sky belongs to me, and everything that flies in it does so by my permission. You have dared to fly above my home and tried to enter my mind. Such insolence and daring can only be of my rider's lineage, and he will be quite wroth with me if I destroy you here and now. I shall forgive you magnanimously because of that and your young age. Nevertheless, you do not have my permission to fly here and now. Begone!"
The roar was deafeningly loud, and I was certain that if I were actually present, my eardrums would have shattered. The only reason my mind had not been destroyed by the fire was due to the defenses I had created using a form of rudimentary occlumency since the age of four. I thanked my lucky stars, unsure until now whether any progress had been made with my mental protections.
My eyes widened as I desperately tried to fly away, but then I saw The Black Dread somersaulting in mid-air, his tail coming crashing down toward me. I attempted to dodge, but it was impossible. I used my arms to shield my head as the tail batted me down toward Dragonstone castle.
Even though I couldn't feel anything in this vision, I was certain that my real hands were broken and I would wake up in great pain. At least I was thankful that Balerion didn't burn me alive. As the acceleration increased due to gravity, I saw the black stones of the castle approaching faster and faster. I prayed to all the gods that I would not break my legs too, and finally, I reached the castle walls.
I hit the wall with my leg first, encountering resistance, but it felt like passing through water as I flew down the roof. For a fleeting moment, I glimpsed a decorated room before crashing through the floor into the next room. I tried to control my flight, but the acceleration was too intense, and I passed through multiple rooms before coming to a stop in a large chamber.
My vision was blurry as my eyes adjusted to the lights. The room was heavily decorated and far larger than my own room in Winterfell. There were many tables made of quality wood, and the floor was strewn with Myrish silk clothes. As I looked around, I froze at the scene before me.
I had landed in the middle of a threesome. A Valyrian man with a defined warrior physique was fucking a woman from behind. The woman, on her hands and knees, was licking the other woman. However, it wasn't the explicit scene that rendered me frozen; rather, it was the striking beauty of the women involved. The woman being engaged was breathtakingly beautiful, and even the man possessed a captivating and alluring quality. It dawned on me why Targaryens were described as the most beautiful and ethereal people in the books. Even though Emilia was considered the most beautiful in the cast, she paled in comparison to these real-life versions.
And for the first time in this life I decided that whatever happens I will try to seduce as many of my aunts/niece or cousins from my fathers family. Initially I was not comfortable with the Incest and my plan was to ignore any personal relationships with them and only claim a dragon from them and fuck off, but now seeing the two women, I agree with my Grandfather who famously said, "Laws of neither Gods nor Men apply to Targaryens" while making the Doctrine of Exceptionalism. It seems that incest is wincest.
I identified them as the Conqueror and the sister -wives. There was an immense pleasure on the face of the woman getting eaten by her sister. Sizable breasts of the woman who I assumes to be Rhaenys was dangling back and forth as Aegon fucked her from behind. Even then her mouth didn't leave Visenya's pussy and I could see the fingers moving in and out while the mouth was busy with the upper part. Visenya was on her back and leaning on her hands while looking at her sister and brother.
Brother, you are a beast tonight and did you forget that you are fucking your delicate sister and not the warrior one. Visenya said…. Suddenly room become a blur and my vision was going black.
"Daemon.." "Daemon…"
I started hearing a distant echo and I looked around for the source. There was nothing visible but I knew it was from my own time and from my true body. I tried to go back even though the scene in front of me was tempting enough for my adult mind but I knew it is useless as of now. While thinking how I could wake back up in my time, suddenly I felt water falling on me and I gasped in my true body.
I spluttered and coughed as the hot water entered my nose and dripped down toward my lap.
"What the hell? Why did you do that?" I snapped as I saw a grinning Aethan and my laughing grandfather.
Aethan just shrugged and said, "Lord Stark's order, my friend. I didn't have a choice."
I looked at my grandfather for an explanation, and he responded with a questioning look and raised eyebrows. He nodded toward my arms, which were motionless. As I glanced at them, suddenly pain shot through me, and I fell unconscious.
It was the next day morning when I woke up and the first thing that hit me is the discomfort of mending bones and muscles in my hands. At least my bones will become more stronger now after healing. I sighed while thanking the gods that Balerion didn't burn me and I was still in disbelief that my physical body got attacked through time by whatever magical fuckery the weirwoods is. At least now I don't have the Fear Of Missing Out of bonding with the Black Dread itself. I am pretty sure that he will burn me if I show my handsome face in front of him.
As I thought back to the scenes I witnessed from ancient times, I marveled at how my talent for learning seemed like a cheat, picking up so much even from visions. Opening my third eye had drastically increased my magical capacity, and the techniques I learned from watching Aethan were proving invaluable.
I heard footsteps approaching my room and turned to see who it was. It was my grandfather. I was certain that a rat I could sense in the corner had informed him of my consciousness.
He entered the room and looked at me.
"Daemon, how is the healing? Is there any complication? And what the hell happened that you got injured in the present? What did you see?"
"Balerion happened, Grandfather," I replied. "The dragon somehow sensed me and was quite angry for me flying in its sky. The damned beast slapped me down to Dragonstone castle with its tail. I tried to stop it with my hands and they broke. But it's fine now, grandfather. Healing is as normal as it is for me. It was the last vision and before that what I had was a brief history of all the major Winter Kings."
My grandfather looked thoughtful. "Intriguing. Maybe there's a reason for Torrhen Stark's decision to kneel and not use magic against the Black Dread. You were already gifted with dreams, Daemon, so it's not such an outlier that you could see it all the first time. Now it's your duty to verify that our records are correct about the actions 8,000 years ago. It's been 200 years since the last Stark greenseer updated the records. This is how we preserve knowledge without it being changed."
I approved of the intelligent move and thoughtfulness of my ancestors, agreeing to undertake the task after I had fully healed and recovered. My grandfather left me to my thoughts and rest.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was after two days that I was fully healed and back in the training yards with Aethan Reed. Many soldiers were training, and I was personally instructed by the Master-at-arms. Though he was not as skilled as Bennard, he was still quite competent. My talent was overworking to grasp the various skills I could observe in the yard. Aethan was practicing his knife skills, and if I say so myself, he was very proficient.
Consequently, I was also very good with a knife, and as a child, the knife was my most useful weapon.
"Daemon, stop thinking about something else and keep your mind on the battle, or you'll be dead in a real battle," Aethan snapped at me in irritation.
Internally, I scoffed, knowing that this was not possible. I was very skilled for my age, and by the time I entered a battlefield, I would be the king of the battlefield with my magical practice and skill in arms.
I smirked with a pretentious arrogance enveloping my face. "Well, I am already so good with a knife that I don't have to concentrate while fighting amateurs like you, my dear friend," I said, still watching the adults spar while my talent prickled my mind, picking up various skills.
Aethan scoffed and increased his speed. His right hand, holding the knife in reverse grip, flashed towards me with the hilt aimed at my stomach. I stepped backwards to avoid it, simultaneously moving my right hand to slash at his hands. However, he swiftly executed a throwing gesture, causing the knife to turn in his hands with the point aimed towards my stomach. The sudden increase in reach almost caught me off guard, but I used my moving right hand to parry the knife just in time.
"Aethan!" A shout echoed near us as the Master-at-arms approached, clearly alarmed that Aethan had nearly stabbed me with a real knife.
"Aethan, Daemon, how many times have I told you not to use real knives?" Ser Cassel exclaimed.
I smiled at the Master-at-Arms, while Aethan frowned in thought. "It's okay, Ser Cassel," I interjected. "As you know, we have permission from Lord Stark, and you've seen how skilled we've become in knife wielding."
Indeed, it was true. The private lessons Lord Stark had given us in knife wielding and the spars had accelerated our skills exponentially, at least in my case. Aethan was truly a prodigy with the knife, almost able to keep up with me. I suppose all the practice and training, along with the occasional bloodshed, had paid off.
Authors Note: Looking forward to comments and reactions!!
New Update schedule: 2chapters/month for ADS. 1st and 3rd week.
1 chapter/month AFM & GLH
To Read Ahead Chp 6,7,8: https://www.pat reon.com/collection/536990?view=expanded