Small note for clarity as you read this story.

‘inner thought’ – and quoting someone.

“Speaking aloud”

“Dragon-Tong”

Written text

Info points

Jon Snow/Aemon Targaryen (Year 304 A.C.)

Kingslanding

There he lay dying, betrayed once again by someone he thought wouldn’t. This time, it was his brother, just like his black brothers before. “Bran, why?” he choked as he looked up at his cousin-brother. He had been waiting to attend the council to decide what would be next for Westeros and him. As of now, no king or queen has been there to lead them. As Daenerys was dead, killed by his own hands, what marked him a kin and a queenslayer. He couldn’t fathom why Grey Worm hadn’t killed him. He was perhaps waiting to prolong his agony. The man wasn’t wrong; his heart had been aching with guilt since that moment.

Now, in this cell, he lay dying, killed by his own sweet Bran. He stood out of his wheelchair, still unmoving. It shocked him first when Bran stood on his legs. Not much later, Bran had slit his throat. He looked into his eyes for an answer to why Bran did what he had done. Then he saw a glint of blue – those cold blue eyes he had seen at Hardhome and Winterfell. The last thing he saw was the smirk of the Night King staring back at him. As life escaped out of the boy, everything went black.

He wasn’t sure where he was, only that it was black, and he knew he was dead, although he felt partly still alive. Perhaps this was the hell the septas and septons spoke about, although it wasn’t fiery, just utter darkness. Or was it where he was sent to the last time he died? He couldn’t remember anything after his first death.

Then, the darkness was pierced by voices. “Ah, our dragonwolf. You haven’t lost yet. We, the Old Gods and those of Valyria can hopefully give you a chance to prevent the darkness that is about to descend on the world. The children of fire weren’t meant to die out prematurely. To fight against the cold, to  prepare the realm as it should have been?” The voices in the dark explained. ‘What!! The gods of Valyria and Old gods spoke to him.’ He thought in shock.

“To maintain balance in the world, we sent out our herald, a balance against the influences of the great other. The first of both your peoples, the first hero Azor Ahai, initiated the bloodlines – one of ice and one of fire. The blood of forty dragon lords descends from fire, drawn to dragons and heat. The Starks, blood of ice, are drawn to direwolves and cold. The Valyrians forgot their original purpose and were destroyed. Some of their bloodlines escaped due to the dreams we sent to Daenys.

Similarly, we influenced Aegon so he would unite Westeros against the impending storm. This song was referred to as the Song of Ice and Fire. You were meant to be the one who could have sent the great others champion back to its prison in the Lands of Always Winter to restart the cycle,” the voice said.

“But when your sister killed him, he was forced back wasn’t forced back into his prison. Instead, his essence was sent to the nearest link. Your brother, it was his plan all along. He lured Bran with a vision, a trap – the same vision that allowed Bran to see the Night King, which resulted in your brother being marked. From that moment, your brother was partly influenced by the Night King, although he did not know it.” the voice explained. His thoughts were deeply absorbed in this revelation. ‘It all made so much sense – why else would he be brought back to life? He felt as if something had been tugging at him since his resurrection as if he wasn’t entirely himself.’

“Your thoughts are accurate. The Night King orchestrated it all. He can now work in the shadows while the winter gripping Westeros gradually consumes it. There will be no one left to stop him. The world will become one of darkness, cold, and death, as the line meant to send him back is no more.” the voices said sorrowfully.

“There was another problem during the Long Night, including you and Daenerys. The Night King reveals your heritage just before the battle, throwing you into a crisis of self-doubt and acceptance. Then there was Daenerys, her inter-image of herself broken by the reveal of your parentage as you were the true heir to the throne. Causing her to fall into the same crisis as you did. Which was partly broke her, as did many other factors.” He sucked in a breath when he heard that. He had played with him that way, using information he wanted his whole to sow chaos.

“So when you will return, accepting who you are is of paramount importance. You are a Targaryen, but you are also a Stark, the song of fire and fire. Be both in what comes next, and perhaps the winds of winter can change into a dream of spring.” The voice spoke sternly. 

“So, child of fire and ice, do you accept to return? To change the future and give life a chance? Remember, this will be your final opportunity, giving us all one last chance. After this, we won’t have the power to send you back again a second time. As the old gods and the Valyrian gods have been forgotten in favor of false idols,” the voice murmured.

“What? The Seven are false gods?” He exclaimed, shaken by the thought.

“Yes, a cruel ploy by the Great Other to make men ignorant of its true nature. The same goes for the Black Goat. Those gods are not real – only the god of death, the Many-Faced God, and the old gods and Valyrian gods represent different aspects of life,” the voices murmured. ‘Their mode of communication was peculiar and unsettling. They have all different voices, but all sound like one. It’s a song of life. An interesting though.’ He thought with half a smile.

“Now, champion, will you again fight for the world of men? Or will you choose the tranquility of darkness, letting everything wither away?” the voices asked in a deep murmur.

“I will fight again, as an old foe once said, ‘I will be fighting their battles forever.’ I shall be both my bloodlines and fire and fight for life to give it a fighting chance. What happens now?” Then, everything turned white, and a blinking light appeared before him.

The man formerly known as Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryen emerged into the world. It was the year 92 AC., the second moon, and the third child of Baelon Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.

“Damn, where am I?” He said, but it came out as he cried out like an infant. A woman with black-brown raven hair and grey eyes cradled him. He recognized the eyes of Arya and his uncle. Remembering them brought a pang of emotion.

“Lyanna, you’ve done well. After Aegon, I never thought I’d have another child,” a man with silver-blonde hair appeared. His eyes were purple.

“Thank you, Baelon, my love. It seems the little one has your hair and my eyes,” the woman, Lyanna, said. ‘It was odd. Could the gods have granted him the blessing of having his mother this time? It seemed Rhaegar wouldn’t be a part of this life. But he would honor him all the same as his other father, Eddard Stark, even if he lied to him about his truth. Perhaps even a father as well, he wasn’t sure. The man seemed to love his mother. Were they married?’ His thoughts ran through his head, the possibilities.

“Do you have a name in mind, my she-wolf?” The man named Baelon inquired. ‘Was he her husband, or was he a bastard? Was he reborn a true bastard this time? Or was trueborn like last time?’  He hoped the latter.’ He thought as he looked at the man.

“I do, if you’re in agreement, my dragon. How about Aemon Targaryen, named after your brother?” His mother suggested, her smile radiant. Baelon nodded and kissed her. ‘Thank the gods, he wasn’t a bastard, even if he wasn’t in his last life. Still, a confront to know he didn’t need to go living like one again.’ He thought.

“Come now, little Aemon. How about some milk?” His mother asked, bringing her breast to his mouth. ‘I suppose I’m a little hungry,’ he thought as he suckled at his mother’s breast. It was a somewhat embarrassing experience, a twenty namedays old man trapped in a baby’s body. He was suckling at his mother’s breast.

Thus began the rebirth of Aemon Targaryen in the second moon of the year 92 A.C.

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