(Let me know what you think about this fanfic, and check my other one pokemon: champions story, I'm trying to see which one to put my attention on)
He was a man who kept those that were loyal to him happy...…. Strangely my father was a cold and ruthless man, I don't think he did it for any of the obvious reasons I've always thought there was something more.
~ Rhea Targaryen to her son Maegor Targaryen.
In a quiet corner of the castle, a boy slept huddled into a ball as the cold winds blew over him.
In the dead of night, the castle was still, no movement only torches lighting some areas, a night that would change the fate of the world.
The night a killer was reborn, the night the savior of common people was born, the night the dragon king awoke, a night that seemed normal but carried so many secrets.
The quiet of the night was broken as the boy's eye snapped open filled with confusion he looked around spotting the old stone walls, and was even more confused.
Ahhh!!!!!
He let out a scream as he held his head memories flashing through his mind, but when it was done he was even more confused.
As the memories he just got back didn't match the surroundings he was in.
A cold, calculating assassin was what he was.
A life spent in shadows, moving through the world with only one goal: power. A power that had always been just out of reach.
His old life had been one of ruthless precision, taking lives without hesitation, always aiming for the next rung on the ladder.
A name never mattered, it was the kills, the contracts, the blood. He had been trained, honed for one singular purpose.
But amid that coldness, there had been moments. Fleeting moments, small flickers of warmth.
He could still remember the face, her face. The woman he had loved. Loved, even though he had never let himself truly embrace it.
Love had been a luxury, something weak, something that didn't fit with the way of life he had chosen.
And yet, he had felt it, buried deep beneath his ambition, beneath the kills.
The assassin's life had been solitary. His heart had been cold, but not entirely empty. Power had been his true lover, his only companion. He had fought for it, sacrificed everything for it. And still, it had slipped through his fingers.
A voice interrupted the flood of memories, like a whisper in the dark, cold corners of his mind.
"You have been reincarnated. You have been granted a system to aid your rise. Your knowledge of the future is both a weapon and a curse. Use it wisely."
His breath caught in his throat.
' I was reincarnated? Did God make a mistake? Or was I reincarnated by the devil?' He questioned.
He was very aware of the kind of person he was, God wouldn't waste his time reincarnating someone like him so it had to be a mistake or the devil did it.
' Mistake or not, devil or not. It doesn't matter first thank you to whoever brought me here, but I won't be a pawn for anyone. Since I'm here why not continue trying to achieve my dreams?'
Another chance to do what he could never do before.
A strange interface flickered before his eyes, like a hologram, glowing with an ethereal light. It was real. The system was real.
Name: Aegon Targaryen
Age: 14
Free Points: 100
Skills ( max skill level is 15/ normal people can only reach lv10 max in any skill): Swordsman (lv 3), dagger (lv 2) Archery (lv 3)
Body: 25 ( Half the strength of a common man)
Mind:30 ( due to the combination of two souls smarter than most people)
Blood:10 ( only people with magical blood have points in blood)
Average Adult Male Points: 50
Body:40
Mind:10
Blood:0
In special cases, people will have more points in body, mind, or blood. For example, Tywin Lannister would have far more points in mind than an average person.
The name struck like a hammer.
His vision blurred as memories surged through his mind, a flood of images from Aegon Targaryen's life. He was not just anyone; he was a Targaryen, the blood of dragons running through his veins.
He was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark, the heir to the Iron Throne, hidden away as a bastard by his uncle.
Jon Snow. That name followed him like a shadow, the bastard of Winterfell, raised alongside 'siblings' but always an outsider.
But Aegon Targaryen... The Targaryen blood, and the claim to the throne all came crashing down upon him.
The assassin's mind, so sharp and focused, reeled as he absorbed the memories and experiences of this new life.
His past life had been one of power and control, but Aegon Targaryen... Jon Snow... He had been a pawn in someone else's game, hidden away, kept from the power that should have been his.
He had been too weak, too far removed from his heritage, too disconnected from the throne he had been born to claim.
But not anymore.
The system flickered once more before his eyes, laying out the way forward.
A new set of information appeared on the interface, more detailed, and more specific:
Point System:
Living Creatures: Each living being killed grants points.
Humans: 5- 10 points
Animals: 1-7points
Magical Creatures: Varies depending on the amount of magic the creature has.
Subordinates: Subordinates who are loyal to you and kill will grant you one-third of the points they would have earned.
Loyalty: Subordinates with strong loyalty to you yield greater returns in points.
Aegon's eyes narrowed as he processed the information.
This was the currency of power. Every kill, every life taken, would fuel his rise. But the real power lay in the subordinates.
The loyalty of others would not only help him achieve his goals it would directly contribute to his strength.
A third of the points his subordinates earned would come to him, provided they remained loyal.
The game had layers. The system didn't just give him power; it forced him to build a following, a network of loyal supporters.
Every kill mattered, but so did the loyalty of those around him. Subordinates could make or break his ascent to the throne.
Aegon understood the implications immediately. Power wasn't just about what you did it was about who you could control, who you could make follow you, kill for you, die for you.
He glanced out the window of the room he was in, the snow falling gently, the ravens still cawing in the distance.
This is a perfect starting point. As Aegon Targaryen the heir to the Iron Throne, Jon Snow exists no more. No longer hiding in the shadow, no longer being a pawn.
The system's voice broke through his thoughts, urging him forward.
"You are in Winterfell. Your first steps must be taken. Begin accumulating points. Enhance your body, mind, blood, and skills. The world will soon fall into chaos. You must be ready."
Aegon listened to the system and the yearning for power and control grew stronger like a fire in his chest that the cold winds of the north could never out.
He would play the Game of Thrones and win or die trying.