Chapter 13: The Lull

Chapter 13: The Lull

Winterfell

78AC

Dameon Snow

I was sitting before the heart tree in Winterfell's Godswood, contemplating the things I had just seen. It had been a month since the tourney for my half-sister was held, and rumors regarding Aemon's actions had reached Winterfell. I was astonished that my father had fought so hard to prevent my punishment and had even threatened those who insulted me. After bleeding quite a bit and expending hours of practice, I could finally see the entire event using the weirwood network. There was some blockage initially, but my persistence and additional bleeding to power the weirwood overcame whatever blood magic protection left by my Great-Great-Uncle Maegor that tried to block me from scrying the Red Keep and the events there. I wonder why I have felt no such thing while using my warged birds.

It was truly astounding what guilt could do to a man. Aemon was so enveloped in guilt for abandoning me that he would even defend me against dragons, all the while harboring enough hatred to kill me. What a bipolar behavior, and I wondered why the Old King still entertained my father. According to everything I knew from stories and what I could overhear from King's Landing itself, the king was pragmatic to the core and hard-ass enough to even disinherit Aemon and make Baelon his heir. My guess, based on gossip from both the smallfolk of King's Landing and the nobles, was that Aemon was the people's beloved prince. From what I could gather, in the two years he was essentially living among them—fighting, drinking, whoring, and killing any criminal he could get his hands on—he had charmed anyone he met and become a trusted friend among the nobles.

Both versions of my parents' affair made Aemon the perfect choice for heir. In one, he was the tragic lover, a foolish knight who fell for a seduction attempt, which made the nobles love him as someone they could manipulate, unlike King Jaehaerys. In the other version, my father knew the seduction and used it to have a child with Stark blood, ensuring he might have a puppet lord in the future after causing some accidents. I laughed hard the first time I heard the second one.

"So, is it true, my prince?" The voice of Brandon interrupted my thoughts. I groaned at hearing him call me prince again. After the lesson I learned in the swamp, being unconscious and leaving my body unprotected, I always made sure there was protection when using such abilities outside. Brandon had turned into such a fanatic that he even called me prince when we were alone.

"What have I told you, Brandon? Do not call me prince again. It is an order now. I am a bastard, and I don't want the closer scrutiny we will have here since the lease contract to find anything of importance."

Brandon tried to protest, but I raised my hand to stop him. "I am telling you now, Brandon. Stop it, or I will banish you from my presence."

Brandon looked chastised and nodded his acceptance.

I sighed tiredly, knowing that more chastisement would be needed in the future. "As for your question, yes, it is true. King Jaehaerys has declared that only the blood of the dragon will judge another of the blood, and will be even applicable to me even if I am a bastard. Aemon also made the threat and even whipped the Grand Maester for wishing to spill the blood of the dragon and trying to start a civil war."

Brandon nodded gravely. "It is the least they could do after abandoning you."

"It is of no problem, Brandon. As you know, I could achieve whatever I wished with my own work and not have it handed down to me."

"I thank the old gods that you grew up here, and even the animals are blessed now," Brandon said.

I grinned and nodded, knowing that farm animals, after careful feeding of my diluted blood, had been improving themselves. Every generation was slightly bigger, hardier to cold, and produced more than before, whether it was wool, milk, or meat when they were slaughtered. This led to a great question I had been pondering for quite some time.

What will happen to the people who consume it? Will their children be more than them? By the third generation, where will they be? Peak human level without even doing anything or a supersoldier level? I was clearly itching to find out, but the only opportunity was Cregan as of now. Even then, his mother had not improved significantly, but I was sure my little cousin Cregan would have additional benefits, as my grandfather made sure Lady Stark would survive the birthing bed by giving more than required.

It also led to a question my grandfather asked, which I hadn't considered in all my plans for the future—a very big mistake on my part.

What will be the abilities of my children?

Luckily, it is all hypothetical as of now, and my guess, which is usually correct, is that they will inherit the already modified body as a base, even though it may not be as developed as my own, and my own ability to adapt and heal will be inherited. Lucky bastards, I cursed, as they wouldn't have to suffer the pains I did to develop from a base human. I am almost sure that the learning talent itself will not be inherited, but they will be prodigies in something that will come very easily for them.

I was going to climb the tree where my own pet eagles had made their nest to check on the eaglets. This was one of my personal experiments. The breeding pair had been fed my blood from their young days and trained by me to fly faster and longer without any rest, to fight more, and to eat more. Now they had three eaglets, and all of them had survived. They were bigger than any eaglets I had seen, and they were developing faster. From their behavior, I could see that they were more intelligent too. They realized that I was their true caretaker and bonded with me immediately. The moment the warg bond happened, I also knew that this was different from all the others. All other animals were just tools in view and discarded easily. I needed special eagles to send to Essos and, for the first time, observe the players there.

I was almost in the middle of the tree when I heard yelling from behind.

"There you are, Daemon," the loud, cheerful voice of the four-year-old Cregan interrupted me from the entrance to the godswood.

I groaned as I closed my eyes. For some reason, Cregan admired me very much. I was the exotic-looking person near his age and an elder brother figure. I knew it would bite me in the ass when one night I caught him wandering and decided to tell him some fairy tales. Then I had to go and indulge him with stories almost every day. I quickly ran out of stories and had to start telling him about Harry Potter. Now, even Harry Potter was finished, I started Lord of the Rings and going very slowly so that I will not have to start another story, but he tries to get me to tell the remaining story everytime.

I knew I had to keep the eaglets from the exciting hands of my cousin and dropped myself from the tree.

My knees didn't even buckle from my landing as my body had adapted to falls from larger heights. I didn't know how Daenerys or Jon rode the dragons bareback without the fear of falling and dying. I would not get on a dragon even with a saddle when I knew I couldn't at least survive a fall. I had been diligently increasing the height from which I could jump, and even now, I was nowhere near the top of the trees in my parkour attempts. At least I could almost complete 500 meters of running before I usually slipped and fell down.

Cregan looked at me with wonder as I casually walked towards him from the jump without even stumbling.

"Daemon, you have to teach me that," Cregan said with enthusiasm as he ran towards me.

"As I have said to you, Lord Stark, Daemon is here to continue the balance of his story, but not to teach you jumping. You have to be older to learn such things," Aethan said as he entered the godswood with a grin aimed at me.

I narrowed my eyes, and he grinned harder.

Cregan pouted, hearing that he had to be older to learn such things.

"Aethan is correct, which is a wonder in itself, Cregan. So, what was the important story you couldn't wait for and wanted to disturb my training?"

Cregan pouted again, but then he grinned. "Please, Daemon, tell me what happened after the Steward-Prince tried to take the One Ring. I can't wait anymore."

It was only later that day that my grandfather had time to meet with me. I was summoned to the Lord's Solar to report the happenings in King's Landing.

"Daemon, you are a welcome sight for my sore eyes. The amount of work you have generated for me is truly huge, my son," Grandfather said tiredly.

I grinned mischievously. "Well, at least you don't have to worry about the king's decision. I finally managed to overcome whatever block Maegor put in place and scry the meeting. It took several tries to correctly guess the day, but I succeeded."

"So, the rumors are true then. Your father did try to protect you. Interesting," Grandfather said curiously.

"No, he didn't protect me. He was trying to appease his own guilt for disregarding his beloved Lyarra's son. He is a walking, talking bag of contradictions, and I suspect he is half mad," I said derisively.

My grandfather scoffed at that. "You don't know him, Daemon. He can never be mad when he is so charming. He is still that, by all reports, even though for two years after your birth there were rumors of a drunken prince who gambled and whored like a dying man. But his rise to Master of Laws is not something done impulsively by the king. I must advise you to never disparage the royal family outside the North and give arrows to our enemies to point at you. Why should you antagonize them when the king himself has acknowledged you as his bastard grandson and atleast care for you enough to punish the people asking for grave punishment?"

I scoffed, "The Old King has no love for me and doesn't care for me. You didn't see the meeting, Grandfather. The king was only angry that someone dared to think to harm the blood of the dragon. Moreover, he was mad that they tried to use his beloved wife, who has not yet recovered from the death of Prince Gaemon. As for my father, let's agree to disagree. I don't care enough to debate about him. Anyway, at the end of the day I am unpunished and our plan worked. The King preserved his image as The Good King while our acquisition of new gift is written off as a gift to his grandson. The North will have some increased taxes for the next decade, and the king has proclaimed his blood is greater than everyone else's and that no one could judge his acknowledged blood other than the blood of the dragon."

Suddenly, I smiled mischievously and continued, "That means I am beyond your authority and you couldn't punish me at all, Grandfather."

Lord Stark snorted, "If you think you are beyond my reach, you are in for a rude awakening. We old folks always know how to make a lesson stick."

"Well, it is good that I don't have any time for mischief that would lead to punishment then. My training is more important. I have almost reached the middle of the hot lake, and I can only stay there a little time before my body starts burning and I have to swim upwards," I said.

My grandfather's face showed displeasure at my harsh training, a major argument between us. "Daemon, take it easy, please. There is no need for such torture when you could gradually increase your abilities. You have said that you will live for a long time and the Long Night is still a hundred years away."

"As I have told you, there is no torture or pain when I can control my body and make it not feel the full pain by concentrating hard. I cannot depend on the visions; they change by my interference. Septon Barth was to be Hand till his death, but he has been dismissed. Similarly, what happens if the Others attack next winter?"

"Even then, be careful, Daemon," my grandfather warned. "You have to be in full health to fight in the first place. By the way you train, even with your godly abilities, I am afraid of losing you too."

I smiled at his concern. "Do not worry, Grandfather. I will be perfectly fine, and no amount of training could harm me permanently."

And it is true too. The limitless potential is truly a cheat, and my own healing has increased by all the training it gets put under. If my own wish was to have twenty percent of Wolverine's powers, it has developed to atleast twenty-five by now, which is, tremendous growth, as Wolverine has survived even nuclear bombs in hours.

"Can I be excused, Grandfather? I have to sleep after all," I said, as tiredness enveloped me.

Grandfather dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "Daemon, how do the Others' attacks start in your vision?" he asked suddenly as I reached the door.

"Well, it starts with the wildlings coming together for protection and fleeing as they lose entire villages," I answered, turning back to look at my grandfather. I saw him grimacing at my answer, and suddenly my heart started beating rapidly.

"What is it?" I hissed as panic enveloped me as doomsday scenario of Others coming to kill everyone early flashed in my mind.

"There have been troubling reports of wildlings coming together beyond the Wall and attacking the remaining settlements in the Gift more than before. The frustrating thing is, they are not retreating; they remain hiding in the Gift and mountains. Earlier, we couldn't do anything as they were not in our control, but since the Gift is now ours, we will have to do some hunting. I am planning to send Rickon with enough men to hunt down the wildlings."

I sighed in relief. "It is just normal wildlings. Nothing to worry about, Grandfather. If it were the Others becoming more active, they wouldn't stop at the Gift; they would keep coming south to escape in fear."

Grandfather nodded in acceptance and dismissed me again.

79 AC

Lord Benjen Stark

Benjen Stark was contemplating several things while watching his grandson Daemon make a mockery of all the soldiers. Daemon's swordsmanship had increased tremendously, and his enhanced physical abilities made it a cakewalk for him.

He still couldn't believe the things his grandson had achieved thus far. Benjen had been lauded as the greatest Lord Stark for increasing food reserves, introducing new grain, boosting trade, and even building a fleet. But the truth was, everything was inspired or suggested by his grandson. Lord Stark could still hear the smallfolk whisper about blessings from the Old Gods when he was not near. And who could blame them?

Daemon's blood and ideas about cleanliness had made a difference as significant as the Wall itself for the health of folks in Winterfell and Wintertown. He still couldn't believe the improvement in even farm animals.

"Daemon is too good. I want to be like him, Grandfather," the voice of his other grandson interrupted his thoughts.

"So, you have again escaped the lesson with your uncle Bennard, Cregan. Why must you be so troublesome?" he asked tiredly.

Cregan just grinned at his grandfather and said, "As I said, I want to be like Daemon, and Uncle Bennard is such a boring man. It is very easy to escape with the help of my little friends."

Stark looked at the younger grandson curiously, as Cregan had no friends as of now. No heirs were fostered, and his friends were just Aethan and Daemon. He looked again and saw Cregan trying to be nonchalant as if he had uttered something to be kept secret.

Stark's face became stern, and he asked, "Little friends? Who are they, and why are they helping you to escape?"

Cregan pouted, knowing it would be impossible to say nothing. "It is the cats. They love me and allow me to see through their eyes. I use their senses to escape and hide."

Stark's eyes widened as no one knew Cregan had developed warging at such a young age and with such power. Daemon grew into the power by training, but Cregan could already warg multiple animals. "Why have you not informed me, your father, or even Daemon about this?" Stark asked curiously.

Cregan looked down in worry and embarrassment. "I sort of saw some meetings between you and my father talking about how magic should be a secret, and even in Daemon's story, magic is a secret. So, I didn't inform you. I am sorry, Grandfather."

Lord Stark looked at his grandson and sighed. "It seems you are also just like Daemon, exploring the unknown too early. Come on, let me tell you the basics of warging, and later Daemon can train you personally."

It had been almost one month since Cregan's ability was discovered, and now Benjen Stark was dealing with the temper tantrums of both his grandsons. He sighed in tiredness, remembering the argument he had with Daemon, who was adamant about going with Rickon to the Wall to deal with the wildlings in the Gift. Even though Daemon's argument of being almost invincible compared to the wildlings was correct, Benjen couldn't allow a 12-year-old to go to a battlefield.

Cregan's temper tantrum was because his teachings had been stopped as he was busier now due to his heir being sent away.

"Grandfather, you should not deny me this. This is a chance for me to further train and to see where I stand regarding my abilities," Daemon said.

"Daemon, I told you already, you will not go to a battle until you are at least 16, an adult. This is not negotiable," Benjen Stark snapped.

"Grandfather, please, I feel something awful is going to happen. You must send me too, and I could scout better than any others. You know about my warging ability," Daemon said.

Benjen Stark looked at his grandson carefully and concluded that the warning was just a trick to see whether he would agree or not and nothing serious.

"Grandfather, you must continue the lessons. It is unfair that you stopped just because Father has to go and hunt some stupid wildlings," Cregan yelled.

He arrived at a solution. "Stop it. There shall be no more arguments from either of you. I have ordered what will happen, and it will happen so. In fact, Daemon, you will start teaching Cregan everything I have taught you."

"What?" Daemon yelled. "You want me to babysit?"

Cregan looked happy at the prospect of learning from Daemon but spluttered when he called him a baby.

"No. I want you to teach him the lessons I taught you in the Stark Vaults."

"Ah, I see. I will do as you say, Grandfather." Daemon nodded grudgingly knowing that no amount of tantrum will change his mind.

Benjen sighed in relief and prayed that Rickon would return soon after hunting the wildlings.

The Gift

Months Later

The Crowkiller

It had been months since their warband was allowed south of the Wall through Nightfort by one of the brothers of the Night's Watch. It took all his control not to kill the Night's Watchman on the spot. He loved killing crows more than even fucking a woman, but orders were orders, and even he was afraid of the leader of almost 7,000 wildling warriors with spies even in the Night's Watch. He hated crows more than anyone in the world from the first crow he killed at the age of 10 when he saw the crow coming out of his mothers hut after killing her.

The leader was adamant that he must not be called King beyond the Wall, but only a normal clan leader. As far as Crowkiller was concerned, he would have followed the leader even to the Lands of Always Winter. But lately, as he rose in position, he came to know that the majority of the plans were made by a fucking crow. A betrayer of their oaths, more than that, he was an aged crow and was not named by anyone.

He knew there were more traitors in the Watch, as it was another brother who opened the gates of Nightfort, which no wildling knew about. His job was to harass and kill the kneelers and steal whatever they could throughout the Gift. The warband was very happy with the loot and women they stole. The majority of the women didn't survive their hospitality.

It was nighttime, and they rested around a fire when a brother of the Night's Watch arrived on horseback. How he knew them or why he was there was a mystery.

"Crowkiller, you have new orders from the Leader."

Crowkiller looked furious at that. "What is it?"

"Heir Stark and a force of 200 mounted soldiers have arrived at the Wall for hunting you and other free folk in the Gift. You are to join with other raiders and arrive at Queenscrown the day after tomorrow morning. The sentries will be dealt with, and you are to kill every single Stark man there, including Heir Stark."

"Well, Crowkiller has become rather old. Stark Slayer has a nice ring to it." He said while wondering when and where other raiders entered and why he doesn't see anything about them till now.

Authors Note: while we wait for heir stark to arrive at the wall, let us see what some other players are up to in;

Chapter 14 : A Game of Magic

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

To read ahead chp 14,15, 16, 17 : My Patreon : Search For Black Wolf