[Chapter Size: 2100 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
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Flashback
'Ahh.' Screams of despair echoed through the courtyard.
'Take shelter inside the castle!!' Young Jon Snow could hear Ser Rodrik shouting at the soldiers.
People kept screaming and the boy was inside his room, hearing the voices outside fade more and more as the sound of the wind muffled everything.
He stood there, wondering if everyone was taking shelter. He hadn't gone to the kitchen after his chores, after all he was stinking, so he was waiting for dinner.
But that storm arrived first. With nothing to do, he lay down on the bed ignoring the storm and waiting for dinner, since he had nothing else to do.
His gaze fell on the closed window, it was getting worse, the wind seemed like some kind of hurricane, lightning strikes began one after another, the boy grew frightened, so much so that he ran to the door. He didn't want to stay there any longer.
'What?! It's locked?!' Upon reaching the door he tried to open it, but panicked when he couldn't pull it. No matter how much strength he put into it, the door didn't move an inch, not even the slack he had in the lock. The door was static.
'Someone! Help me!' cried the frightened boy.
And his answer was the window exploding as he quickly turned, even more terrified, as the blast of wind burst into the room while he saw the chaos coming from outside.
The wind that had blown the window apart and invaded his room shifted, and began pulling him outward. Feeling himself being dragged, Jon screamed as his body was hauled toward the window. He tried to grab onto something, but nothing kept him from slamming against the window frame.
The child's young eyes grew dazed as he caught sight of Winterfell within a hurricane filled with lightning. A scene that boy would never forget.
The force on his body increased and he found himself being hurled out the window. He clung on as his last attempt not to be pulled away, his body still flying backward.
'Help!' He couldn't even scream anymore, the wind was smothering everything, all he could see was his hand slipping from the only thing keeping him from being swept into that hurricane.
Then his hand slipped and he went flying, his scream still muffled. Jon watched Winterfell vanish beneath him as he was sucked upward, his vision darkened after that and he knew he had lost consciousness.
The open window of the room then closed and the storm began to dissipate. Maester Luwin had said it was the worst storm in the last ten years, but almost nothing had been damaged in Winterfell, the castle had withstood it well.
If Jon's absence was noticed at dinner that night, no one said anything. Everyone seemed more intent on talking about the storm that had made the whole castle tremble.
Only the next day, when Jon Snow should have been at his work, his absence was discovered and they went to look for him, only to find the room closed and empty. There was no sign of the boy.
Jon Snow, at 8 namedays, had completely disappeared.
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The story began with that mysterious storm that fell upon Winterfell, giving him passage to another world. Jon spoke about his life in Skyrim after that and ended at the point of encounter between him and the ghost of his mother.
He had never spoken so much, not even to his spearwives and Dany. Hours had passed and he had dined and returned to the godswood with the intention of finishing his story until that dawn.
There must have been about two hours left before sunrise when he finally finished. Lyanna had not interrupted her son at all, only listened to him the entire time, even though at moments she wanted to scream, to fight with the people who had tried to harm him, terrified at the horrors he had endured.
"In the end, these gods want you to do the same thing you did in that other world. You are more than a hero, a savior of worlds, my son." She said with a gleam of pride in her eyes, despite everything.
But Daemon shook his head. "I may now be uniting the realms to destroy the white walkers, but I am here for my own interest when I discovered what happened to my father's family, my half-brothers... I returned seeking vengeance more than anything else... I don't feel like a hero." He spoke. He was here to kill, burn, and destroy. Thousands of people had already died by his hands, and tens of thousands more would die when he marched south.
Lyanna looked at him with a conflicted gleam. "You know, I also have blood on my hands?" she asked suddenly.
He stared at her. "You mean the war that began because you fled with my father?" Daemon asked.
She only nodded, confirming the question. "Yes... You know that because of that, thousands of people died, my brother and my father too. It was all my fault." She said with sadness.
Daemon looked at her with a gleam that Lyanna could not hold eye contact with, even as a ghost.
"I don't think the mysterious knight of the tourney at Harrenhal, the knight of the laughing tree, who fought for justice for Howland Reed, ever intended to cause a war and harm thousands of people..." Daemon replied.
"But still I did... That's what I caused." She felt deeply guilty, unable to face her only son.
"Yes, you did." Daemon spoke with a sigh, his mother seeming to tremble at hearing that. "But the idea that you were kidnapped was just an excuse for them to act..." He began, while his mother looked at him with doubt.
"The fall of the Targaryens... was already orchestrated. They only used you as an excuse to start it... Didn't you find it strange? Suddenly, the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Stormlands, and even the West all uniting through multiple marriages?" Jon explained.
"Rhaegar said the same thing..." Lyanna murmured.
"Yes, I know he was behind the tourney at Harrenhal, intending to seek allies when so many realms were uniting, and his father, my beloved grandfather—and may he be rotting in some hell—was growing more and more insane." Daemon spoke, not failing to mock Aerys.
"When Rhaegar said that, I was truly angry, I thought he had been with me only to break that..." She said with a sad smile. 'But he never said it was only for that, I still feel guilty for everything that happened...'
"I know my father had an obsession with the prophecy of the prince that was promised, and he also wanted to have a third child. Elia could not bear another child, otherwise she would die. So he chose you for that as well." Daemon said with a certain distaste.
His mother had not denied his words, she only shrank before opening a sad smile. She had been a young woman in love at that time. "He expected Visenya to be born, she would be the third head of the dragon and Aegon would be fulfilling the prophecy with two wives at his side... But it wasn't a girl, I knew that. You were born in the midst of all that disgrace... You were the only good thing. And I loved you from the moment I saw you. I'm sorry, Daemon." Spectral tears came as the ghost of Lyanna sobbed.
"I know you caused all the mess in your flight with Rhaegar, but you are still my mother. The woman who gave me life. I know you sent a letter to Winterfell, but the Maester of that time, Walys, hid the letter... It never reached your father's hands. The same about your brother Brandon, the letter that should have reached Catelyn Tully, and then gone to Brandon's hands, was intercepted by the one you entrusted with it. Petyr Baelish delivered the letter to Hoster Tully, he hid it, and Brandon never received the warning. Only when the news that you had been kidnapped arrived, did he run to King's Landing in search of Rhaegar..." Daemon spoke calmly about what he had seen. His mother turned her gaze back after the first words and listened to him the entire time.
"How do you know all this?" she asked.
"I told you that the Daedric Princes showed me. It wasn't only in words, but I saw all the visions, confirming they hadn't been altered, of what happened." Daemon said. He remembered well that the Daedric Princes hadn't even known him until he showed his abilities as Dragonborn. That awakened their interest, and after discovering he came from a world destined to be destroyed in his absence, all of this began.
"I see... You don't hate me?" she asked, staring at him with a certain shame and fear.
"No... I know you didn't want to marry Robert Baratheon, he was a promiscuous swine, you could have handled that in many ways, but there's no doubt the war would have started anyway. Your father, Hoster, and Jon Arryn were very ambitious. The only thing missing was the beginning of the marriages, along with an alliance with the West as well." Daemon paused, staring at her. "I just think you and my father hastened the inevitable."
"But Rhaegar said that..." She tried to say, but Daemon cut her off.
"That he could hold the realm? That everything would be fine as soon as his father was dead and he assumed a united kingdom? Don't be naïve, mother. Do you think all those old men would stop because of that... The maesters would act to make sure it didn't happen. They were behind it all as well, their will to kill the last dragons is terrifying to most people." Daemon said.
"With or without you running off with the prince, the war was inevitable..." he said.
She was about to answer, but then something brilliant entered the godswood at that moment and Jon and the ghost of his mother once again saw Meridia approaching in an ethereal light.
"I'll interrupt you." She began with a rather pleasant tone. Jon just stared, waiting to hear what she had to say. "My time here is ending, Daemon, I need to speak with you." She said, and it was not a request.
Daemon pressed his lips, he hadn't finished with his mother. "Name the price you want to stay longer." He was willing to pay more and ignored his mother's shocked and doubtful look.
Meridia gazed at him with eyes full of benevolent will. "It is good to see you have someone who cares so much for you, Dovahkiin..." She seemed proud. "But there is no need to pay anything to keep speaking with your mother. I made her strong enough to remain in the mortal world for some more time." She surprised Daemon with that.
"Truly... that is good." Daemon felt relieved.
"But I need her to leave us now... We must have one last conversation before I leave this world. I won't be able to return here for a long time, so we must have this talk now." Meridia said.
Daemon nodded as his gaze fell upon his mother, and she understood she had to leave them alone. "All right... will I be able to wander around?" Lyanna asked.
"Yes, you will be limited within Winterfell, since you cannot move away from your mortal bones, but you can remain invisible to everyone's eyes and may even appear to whomever you wish. Just don't go around frightening the people of the castle." She said with a calm smile.
"Well... that would be interesting..." Daemon heard his mother and noticed a glimmer of mischief and amusement in her gray eyes.
"Anyway, I'm going now and will leave you two. We'll talk later, my son." She said as she began to float up from her chair. "I am proud of you, Daemon, more than any mother could be. You went through things that no child of 8 years should ever face. You had to grow up so fast..." She murmured now with sadness. She had wanted to say those words as soon as Daemon had finished his story about the other world, but they had soon begun talking about the events of Robert's Rebellion.
With that, Lyanna flew away after receiving a smile from Daemon. "I hope to see you later, mother."
With that, only Daemon and Meridia remained there, as she floated toward the empty chair.
"Do you have wine?" she simply asked, and Daemon pulled it from his dimensional space. Everything indicated it would be another long conversation.
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Raccoon Here:
Lyanna is to blame for the war and is in a special post-life condition. I want to explain this through Meridia. Jon can save his mother's spirit. And I do not intend to resurrect her.
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