[Chapter Size: 2300 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
One exploded on the ground of Lyanna Stark's statue while the statue itself began to be filled with a yellow layer.
Soon a more ethereal form began to manifest, emerging from the statue as a young woman, no more than 16 namedays old. Radiating youthful beauty, as the woman—or rather, girl—blinked her eyes a few times.
Her gaze widened to look at the other figure flying in front of her, smiling at the girl. Lyanna could not be more stunned to see, by all indications, some kind of god before her. After all, her spirit trembled just by its presence, and this beautiful woman could do whatever she wished with her. It was she who had summoned her here.
But here, where? Lyanna could not help but think as her eyes drifted from the blonde woman behind her. Very different from the spiritual space where she used to remain, here… it was the real world. There was no doubt for Lyanna, seeing the colors so vivid.
She looked to the side where Jon was not, recognizing the place.
"You are looking the wrong way, my girl." The woman's voice made Lyanna turn her gaze back to her with doubt. As Lyanna looked the opposite way this time, she saw the red lines drawn on the ground and believed it was blood, but her eyes fell on the young man standing in front of her, staring at her with purple eyes full of recognition.
She blinked a few times before opening her eyes, stunned. "This…" she murmured.
"It is Daemon Targaryen, your son," the woman said.
"Mother…" Daemon took the initiative in a calm tone toward Lyanna Stark before him. She had the appearance from when she died, but without all the blood of childbirth. She wore a white dress. Her colors were slightly transparent, indicating she was a ghost.
Lyanna seemed left speechless, only some sound escaping her throat upon hearing the man call her mother.
"I think it's better to leave you two alone, I'll take the chance to look outside here." _____ spoke as she disappeared before Daemon could say anything, while his attention returned to the ghost of Lyanna.
"Daemon…" Lyanna murmured, and from what Daemon could perceive, Lyanna did not seem to know what was happening in the physical world. She looked at Daemon with conflicting emotions, seeing for the first time the son for whom she had died giving birth, alive and grown into an adult.
"It's you… my Daemon…?" she murmured, approaching cautiously as she floated, extending her ghostly arms and placing her hand over Daemon's face carefully, though neither of them could feel the other's touch. They were both in different realms and planes.
"It's good to meet you, mother…" Daemon said, opening a small smile for her. There were no tears in his eyes, but certainly his voice was bathed in tenderness.
"Daemon, look at you! My son… You've grown so much… You're already a man and so much like your father. I remember your eyes were identical to his, but now they are more purple… Perhaps mixed with the grayish Stark eyes…" she said with equal tenderness, yet studying her grown son.
"In fact, I believe it is more than that, my eyes went through some change after going through certain experiences." Jon said, not wanting to directly admit that his eyes had become more purple and bright after gaining much power in his journey.
"Tell me, son... How was your life? We are in Winterfell... And for you to have called me here, then you know the whole truth... Wait, this cannot be possible! I shouldn't be here! Who was that woman, how did you make her summon me here, and what is this on the ground? Magic, is it your blood?!" Panic suddenly seemed to take over the young woman, who withdrew her arms from her son's face and looked horrified, realizing that, as a spirit, she should never be able to come into contact with mortals. Natural laws prevented this, and yet somehow she was here. "I know it has been more than 17 years since I died... but you seem older than you should!"
Daemon saw all the panic of his mother and sighed. "I want you to calm down, mother..." he began, while she looked at him full of doubts and questions.
"From what I saw, you cannot see what happens in this plane... I don't even know how your plane works either... but in any case, I will have to explain everything to you. How about we sit down and talk a little?" he began, while she nodded after a few seconds, seeming to see that it was a situation they should discuss calmly.
"Sorry, son... it's just that this is so... sudden..." The ghost could not find a better word to define this situation.
Daemon only nodded, being understanding, while his gaze fell toward the crypts. Most of the torches were extinguished, so all he could see a few meters ahead was darkness, and this was not a good place to have this conversation.
"Let's go somewhere else... Can you follow me to the godswood?" Daemon asked, while she nodded.
"I feel I can go anywhere in Winterfell, as long as my bones are here, I believe," she said.
"That's great, come with me, just hide so no one else can see you. People already know I do rather unusual things, but they would be terrified to see a ghost. So let's try not to cause panic." He said, while she nodded, beginning to disappear, though Daemon could feel her presence, as if she were becoming invisible.
He did not clear the Daedric rune circle and began climbing the stairs.
"Your Majesty, we saw a light coming from the crypts, are you all right?!" asked one of the men as soon as he saw him leaving the crypts. Daemon could hear someone choking behind him at hearing how the men referred to him, but he would have that conversation with her soon.
"I'm fine, I want you to continue guarding the entrance, no one must enter the crypts, understood?" Daemon gave the order, while the men quickly nodded at his tone.
"Yes, Your Majesty." They said.
"Great." Daemon said and moved forward, heading straight for the godswood. He could see the ghost studying every side of Winterfell. It was full of men wearing armor Jon had stolen in the south—Lannister, Baratheon, Tully—as Daemon had distributed his loot among his men when they were still beyond the Wall. Some wore the traditional clothing of wildlings, while there was not a single Stark man. His mother must have been quite frightened now, seeing Winterfell in this state, but he would explain everything to her as soon as they sat down to talk.
"King! There's a problem with some knights coming to Winterfell claiming to be Starks, but they fled when the Boltons took the region and Winterfell!" One of the free folk men arrived.
"I understand, but I cannot hear them now. Leave them somewhere until I finish, I will speak to them and see if they tell the truth before dinner." Daemon said, and the man nodded, leaving him and the ghost of his mother to continue toward the godswood.
They entered in silence, where all that remained was the sacred tree of the old gods and the same vegetation.
"Daemon..." Lyanna wasted no time manifesting, floating behind him. "Why does everyone call you king... What is happening?" she asked, frowning.
"We will talk about that, but first, we need to discuss other things... You must know that I did not live my whole life in this world." He began, as he pointed his hand, summoning two chairs out of nowhere near the tree, with a table between them.
"How?!" Lyanna exclaimed at the sight.
"As I said, mother, I lived my life in another world, I learned to use magic there. Anyway, sit down and I will clarify everything." He said, sitting in one of the chairs, while Lyanna looked at him cautiously, moving toward her chair.
Daemon conjured a bottle of Arbor Gold wine, which he had stolen from the Tully coffers. "I would even offer this to you, mother, but I don't think you can drink..." he said in an apologetic tone.
"It's all right... I just want to hear from you what is happening." She said, as if losing patience with her son. She clearly had a fierce temper.
"Well... let's start first with my upbringing, or rather, how your brother thought best to raise me, an orphaned child to whom he had promised you he would care for." Daemon began, taking the wine and drinking in front of her, as it would be quite an unpleasant conversation.
Lyanna had been cautious the entire time—whether because she was among the living, or about that woman who was clearly a goddess and had pulled her there, or because she was seeing her grown son for whom she had given her life in childbirth, or because everyone treated him as king, or because there seemed to be no Stark at all in Winterfell, or even because of these magical powers that made him 'create' things out of nothing, like the table, chairs, or the wine he drank.
Little by little, she began to listen about his childhood and relaxed, waiting to finally hear how her child had lived. It seemed that her brother had brought him here as a bastard, and though she frowned at that, she believed it was the best way to save him, even if she hated the idea of her son being considered a child born out of wedlock, when she and Rhaegar had married. But at least Robert never learned of his existence, and her brother had kept his word on that.
But as she heard more and more about his childhood, and how he had been treated by her brother, his children, and especially that Catelyn Tully, who should have married Brandon if he had not been killed, she began to feel disgust. Daemon had none of the childhood she had hoped for. He was treated like a plague.
The anger came. "How could he treat you that way!!" she said, slamming against the table with all her rage, while her hands only passed through the physical matter.
Spectral tears flowed from her eyes right after, mixed with anger and sadness. "How could he do this to you! He said he would protect you... I thought my brother would have treated you well, even being a bastard only in name!" She looked at him with anger directed toward her brother, but also with regret seeing Daemon there.
"I won't say that I could have survived without him rescuing me, I owed him that debt, but I believe the only reason your brother didn't abandon me like a dog in an orphanage was the oath you asked of him. However, there is no doubt he liked treating me that way. I believe he hated you for what happened... He blames you for everything." Daemon said in an indifferent tone.
He knew his mother had her mistakes and had indirectly brought a war, but she was still his mother, the woman who had sacrificed herself for him to live.
"I would never have imagined Ned acting like this..." she said, crying. "I thought he would love you, you are a Stark too!"
"That wasn't enough, but don't worry about it, my debt with him ended some time ago and your brother is hiding in White Harbor. Soon I intend to face him with my sword." Daemon said, and that made Lyanna stare at him with some tremor.
"You're going to kill him?" she asked, shocked.
"I don't know yet, I would prefer that he face me in combat and not retreat from my sword, but we'll see that another time. I want to continue my story, after all, my childhood full of hardships was only the beginning of my tale..." Daemon said.
"You said you went to another world... Are you saying this happened when you were a child?!" she murmured.
"Do you believe this, mother?" Daemon asked, looking a little amused.
"Daemon... I am so lost here, but I am seeing things that should be impossible... I... don't know what to believe anymore..." she murmured, her voice still heavy with the sadness that reflected her son's childhood. But her gaze on him was firmer now. "However, I know you are my son, my Daemon. I have no doubts about that, and I would like to hear the rest of your story... before I can start cursing my brother." She said, trying to strike the table right after.
"You are angry, I can understand, mother. You are certainly a wolf who would protect her children, and I am glad to hear that. I went through too much to appear like a melancholy man, but there is no doubt I missed you, I needed a mother back then." He said, keeping only melancholy in his tone of voice. Daemon had a calm gaze, wearing a faint smile for her.
She began to cry again. And then curse her brother, the gods, and everything she could, unable to face Daemon for a while, until she seemed tired, wiped her nose, and turned back to him.
"Tell me the rest, Daemon, I want to hear everything, don't leave out a single detail." She demanded.
"If that's the case, we won't finish here, but that's fine. Upon completing 8 namedays... Winterfell was struck by a strange storm, and I found myself being pulled into it as I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in a completely different world." He began.
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Raccoon here:
I won't go into the details of Skyrim, I'll just skip ahead after he explains everything to the ghost of Lyanna, so that she can understand what happened with her son.
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