[Chapter Size: 2500 Words.]
Third Person POV.
Winterfell.
...
...
"Daemon..." Lyanna's voice was heard while the Dragonborn still held his sword in hand, still admiring it after Meridia left this world. Soon after, his head turned toward his mother, looking at her cautiously.
The roar of a dragon came above them, Winter still flew through the sky and he could also see his mother being startled by the creature, seeing for the first time a real dragon. When her gaze returned to her son, it was full of doubts about what had just happened.
Daemon made the sword disappear the next moment, placing it inside his storage, doing the same with the table and chairs that were in the place.
"I know you have many questions, but we will talk about that another time. Meridia told me that you will stay for a long time among the world of the living. I am a little tired, I would like to rest a little first before continuing our conversation."
He had lost almost a liter of blood in the last few hours. Sleeping a little would help him, since he didn't like being in that state, and not to mention that he didn't have blood regeneration potions with him. Sleep would be the best option.
She seemed to want to say something, but nodded, understanding Daemon's situation. While he advanced toward the gate and approached her.
"I still have to go clean up that mess I left inside the crypts. If someone shows up there, even though I have forbidden it, you could scare them, right?" He did not fail to comment, opening a smile, while she seemed to relax for the first time with his humor. It was the first time he had said something without being serious.
"Of course, I'd love to scare anyone who comes near." She said, smiling and seeming more at ease.
Daemon left the sacred grove, while she began to follow right behind him, entering her invisible state. Daemon then came across a crowd of people staring at him. Unsurprisingly, the flash of Dawnbreaker had awakened all of Winterfell and even part of Wintertown, people at the windows watching him in search of an explanation with a cautious look.
Daemon sighed. He simply could not ignore all those gazes. Even people from outside entered Winterfell not understanding what had happened there, even with everything Daemon had already shown.
"The gods spoke to me." Daemon then said. He was not lying in any way. "And they gave me a weapon that will fight against the army of the dead and their masters." He declared.
He then raised his hand and drew Dawnbreaker, materializing it above him. People let out sounds of surprise all around, like a united echo.
"This sword was given by one of the ancient goddesses, Meridia." Since she had asked them to build a temple for her, at least Daemon would say her name so that people would know her. She was better than all the other princes.
'If any prince is going to want to take over this world, let it be Meridia then.' Daemon said to himself.
The people looked with admiration at the sword shining like the sun.
"One of the ancient gods spoke to him!"
"He received a sword from the gods!"
"It shines like the sun, even in the darkness of night!"
The free folk were all stunned, their voices nothing more than a whisper with glazed eyes fixed on the sword. They were the great majority there, but the people of the North themselves, who were also gathered in the corners of the place, stared at the sword with admiration, believing Daemon's words as well. In the next moment, he made the blade disappear, and darkness returned to reign, illuminated only by the torches burning in the place.
"Anyway, it's over now. I'm going to need some sleep, and I recommend you do the same. Tomorrow we will have a day full of work." Daemon's voice sounded firm, and the people quickly opened space for him to pass, looking at him almost as if he were a divine figure.
"They admire you." His mother's voice came from right behind.
"What did you expect? I just made a shining sword appear and disappear, and I even said that one of their gods spoke to me." Daemon laughed as he entered the castle.
He entered the lord's chamber of Winterfell that the Boltons had been using. Obviously, Daemon had thrown away the bed that the damned Boltons were using and placed a new one. His gaze turned back, where his mother floated in a corner of the room.
"Shouldn't you go to the crypts?" He asked, while she gave a sad smile.
"I just wanted to accompany you here, but I'm going now. Good night, Daemon." She said, before slowly disappearing.
Daemon only nodded. He did not want his mother to see him undressing, since that was quite immoral, even for him.
Anyway, he lay down after taking off his clothes and woke up a few hours later, already in the middle of the morning.
There were guards waiting for him at the door, and he simply headed to the kitchen to ask for something, wanting to eat before starting the day.
"Your Majesty, the castle's maester said that many letters have arrived today from some noble houses of the North." Said one of the men.
"I understand. I will see that later." Daemon replied, walking down the corridor.
"One more thing, Your Majesty." The same guard called him again.
"What is it?" Daemon asked as he continued walking through the corridors.
"The guards heard strange sounds coming from the crypt. They say there is a ghost there." Said one of the men.
"Did anyone try to enter?" Daemon asked in a very serious tone.
"No, my lord. They just started to hear some echoes, as if someone were moaning slowly." Said the man, looking worried.
Daemon turned his gaze forward before opening a smile. It seemed that his mother had gotten bored and started to tease people like a real ghost... He had thought to himself. It was good to see that his mother, who was always sad all the time, was beginning to loosen up a bit, since he had seen her in her youth and she was quite... Wild.
Anyway, Daemon went to the main table. While the servants quickly prepared something for him, he felt a presence at his side, knowing that his mother had approached him. She, however, remained still, while he ate in silence, observing the empty hall, with only a few servants cleaning the space for lunch.
After breakfast, Daemon went to the courtyard and could hear the guards commenting about the ghost in the crypts. He replied ironically that he would take care of it, almost hearing the curses of his invisible mother.
Then, he went down to the crypts, and the first thing he did was clean all the Daedric circles and symbols he had created with his own blood during a summoning of Meridia which had frightened his mother with the creature that appeared out of nowhere, summoned by Daemon.
Daemon went on to the audience hall, and to his mother's surprise, the Winter Throne was no longer there, but the Iron Throne itself.
"I will explain later." He said, since he had not yet told her anything about that.
Soon he began to hear the people, who showed a much more respectful attitude toward him than the day before. Not that he demanded it, but now they looked at him as if he were a messenger of the old gods. After the demonstration of the previous night, the rumors quickly spread, saying that the old gods favored him and had given him a sacred sword that only one man could wield.
Anyway, Daemon continued listening to the men and treated them with all the justice he could offer. Also attending to the demands of the common folk, he returned to lunch in the main hall together with everyone at the end of the morning, and then returned to the audience hall to continue hearing the disputes of the people of Wintertown during that afternoon.
"That house belonged to my grandfather! You have no right to occupy it!" shouted a middle-aged man, with a very worn appearance, while pointing at a younger man, equally poorly dressed and haggard. Both were common folk, fighting over a property that the younger one had occupied in the last moons.
"You went away! You fled from the ironmen and the Boltons, and now you just want to show up and say the house is yours!" said a young woman who accompanied him at the hearing.
"You cannot take something that was mine! I fled because I didn't want to die!" replied the older man.
"See? A coward!" retorted the young woman.
"Say that again! And what were you doing then, brave one? You just hid inside the house, you didn't fight, and now you say it's yours!" shouted the older man, furious.
"Stop, both of you!" Daemon's voice echoed through the hall.
Both turned their attention to the king, seated on the throne, who listened to them in silence. The dispute was over one of the best-built and best-positioned houses in Wintertown, a property of great value.
"Let me see if I understand... One claims to be the grandson of the former owner of the house, who died along with his family. The other occupied the house in the last moons. So while the North bled, one fled and the other hid." Daemon concluded, while the men seemed ashamed upon hearing the king's words.
"My king, they were many..." said the younger one.
"Perhaps they were, but that does not change the fact that you acted like a coward, leaving the people of the North to suffer. Unlike many Northerners who took up their blades and died fighting the enemy, trying to keep their wives and daughters from being raped, their sons killed, and their land stolen." Daemon narrowed his eyes at the young man. "Where do you come from?" He asked the younger man.
"I come from a village on the West Coast, Your Majesty." Said the man cautiously.
"And your family?" Daemon asked.
"I had a couple of boys and a wife... but they were killed by the invasion of the ironborn. So I came here. After entering the Wolf's Wood, I found this house empty and thought of surviving in it..." He explained, while his voice faltered into silence.
"Both are cowards." Daemon heard his mother's voice close to his ear.
She already seemed to be getting used to the idea of living as a ghost among the living temporarily and never failed to make comments near him while she remained at his side during the hearings.
"Before drawing a conclusion, I need to know if what he says is true. Is he really the grandson of the former owner of the house, Jorlan?" Daemon asked another person nearby.
A man stepped forward. He was someone who knew Wintertown very well, long before, during, and after the ironborn attack. He was someone who had lived in the town his entire life. He knew both the Starks and the neighbors.
Daemon himself knew him, back in the days when he was Jon Snow, living in Winterfell as a child, since the man had some duties that occasionally caused them to meet in town. Daemon recognized him as soon as he saw him as a survivor of Wintertown.
"It is true, Your Majesty." Said the man named Jorlan. "But it does not change the fact that he fled. He had a wife, but she was taken, while his parents and his own grandfather were killed." Daemon heard from his old acquaintance.
"So both fled and left their families to die..." Daemon corrected, looking with disgust at the two men. "One left his family on the coast and fled east, while the other fled Wintertown and now wishes to claim the inheritance of the dead family." The king's words made the two shrink back.
"But a property is a property. Is there any other living relative of the coward from Wintertown?" Daemon asked.
"Yes, there is his niece. But she is only 10 namedays old." Said the counselor.
"Then the house will not belong to either of these two, but to her." He gave his final word.
"What?! She has no right!" Exclaimed the older man.
"Watch how you speak to the king." Daemon heard Barristan Selmy among the people attending the hearing. He always interrupted any disrespect toward the king. The people of the North were not used to speaking to the king more than to the lord Starks, so it was quite common for the former white cloak to shout at common folk.
Daemon looked at the older man who had spoken to him. "She has more right than you, after all, you are a man who, even without oath, did not fight for your land, did not fight for your family. The North does not need people like you, therefore, I sentence you to go to the Wall. Your lives will be more useful there." He said.
"What?!" Both exclaimed, stunned, not knowing how a dispute over a house escalated to such things.
"You lost your reason to continue living among the others of this land when you fled alone. I could even understand if you had taken your relatives with you, but you did not." Daemon spoke. They were both cowards and selfish.
The words, full of disdain, made the two protest, but free folk guards quickly seized them and began dragging them to the dungeons.
Daemon then met the soldiers who claimed to serve House Stark. He confirmed that the fourteen men before him were indeed from Winterfell before its fall.
The king allowed them to integrate into the castle, as long as they did not do anything foolish. Otherwise, they would have problems. Daemon would not keep Winterfell; he would allow men of House Stark to remain there until his cousins returned. Afterward, they should decide what to do with them.
Anyway, Daemon only finished his duties by the end of the afternoon, when he retired to his chambers. There, he read the letters he had received that day, replying to some of the lords who still doubted his actions and his invitation. He continued to threaten them.
"I know you want to speak with me all the time." He said, turning to the presence floating invisibly in a corner of the room, until Lyanna reappeared as soon as he spoke to her.
"Do you have time now?" She asked softly.
"Yes, I've finished everything. I'll just ask for something to eat and then we'll talk." Daemon replied.
He called the men at the door and asked them to bring his meal. He would eat while talking with his mother that night.
----
Raccoon Here:
I'll fast-forward to the meeting of the Lords
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