4 Bain-marie

**(Alex's POV)**

*Gasp.*

"What? What's going on? Where am I? Shouldn't I be dead?"

Everything is dark. I can feel something, but I can't open my eyes. They feel so heavy.

I remember dying.

I try to open my eyes again. I can hear voices, and I feel myself being lifted. Somehow, I still don't know what's going on. Was I drugged? Or did I somehow survive the stabbing? No, that makes no sense. Maybe...

No! No, that's impossible... right? I still remember reading some of those stories about 'isekai' or reincarnation. I liked those before my life went to hell. But that's impossible... I don't believe in reincarnation... but what happened then?

Alex didn't know how long it had been until his consciousness returned. Let's see here. (101) He could hear voices. He didn't understand what they were saying, but they must be very close. Judging by their tone, they were speaking softly. Maybe because of him? Not wanting to wake him up? But he was awake. He was awake.

So, this is what a patient with locked-in syndrome feels like. It's surely not for the faint-hearted. As for Alex, he didn't feel anything.

Suddenly, he felt a slap on his butt and couldn't help but open his eyes. Finally! Finally, he managed to open them.

But he didn't see very well. Everything was blurry, just silhouettes. He blinked a few times, and slowly it got better. Where was he? The voices were faint, as if these people were sharing secrets.

Alex didn't understand what was happening, but his powerful soul allowed him to memorize everything he observed through his five senses: smell, sound, sight, touch, and taste.

The only thing he vaguely understood was his new mother's dying love. When the haggard yet elegant lady took him in her arms, he felt something he hadn't experienced since his parents died. That feeling of warmth, foreign yet strangely comforting. However, this warmth, like a flickering candle flame, didn't last long. Amidst the warmth and the fading flame of his mother's life, he understood her gaze—the universal language of unconditional love. The flame finally extinguished, and his mother left him with a new life and a parting gift: a new name—Altair. Then came the all-too-familiar coldness, which didn't dissipate even from the old man who was supposed to be his father.

"Poop, baby body..."

Altair fell asleep, reminiscing about the lost warmth and the all-too-familiar coldness, cursing his weak body.

**(Two weeks later, Jon's POV)**

I sat in my study, reading through letters congratulating the birth of my firstborn son and expressing grief over my wife's demise.

Another distressing piece of news arrived: On the same day of my son's birth, an unprecedented storm ravaged the eastern coast of Westeros. The Narrow Sea, Shipbreaker Bay, and Blackwater Bay were tossed and turned by the storm. Lives were lost, properties destroyed, and trading ships wrecked. Among the casualties were the parents of my ward, Robert of House Baratheon. His parents, Steffon Baratheon and wife Cassana Baratheon, died in Shipbreaker Bay during the storm, along with the crew of their ship.

As I put aside the mind-numbing task of contemplating how to break this news to young Robert, I turned my thoughts to my newborn son.

Altair was an exceptional baby, and rumors were spreading throughout the castle. He never cried, except when hungry or when he needed to urinate or defecate. Jon marveled at how quickly the news traveled, nodding in satisfaction. He was truly happy to have such a brilliant son

(Altair's POV)

Altair was getting washed, dried, and wrapped by the maids. During all this, Altair was having a memory breakdown for multiple reasons. First, Altair tried hard to remember who he was, but all he got were glimpses of the sad past. Altair also knew that he had passed through some kind of endless black void and was, probably, reincarnated, but he couldn't remember where and how he got reincarnated. All he could remember were his parents' faces and memories from his previous life. He slowly recalled everything from common sense to his personality. He also remembered bits of knowledge that his memory had retained and the passion of his past life. His thinking process gradually returned, allowing him to ponder all that.

The second reason was that he heard a word that shocked his soul. The word 'Arryn' and the blue banner—the color of the sky—featuring a falcon and the moon hanging on the wall behind the maid, all belonged to a world he longed for in his memories. Especially after his parents' death, he immersed himself in work and Planetos fiction (TV series, books, maps, and fan fiction based on this world).

'Did I really reincarnate into the Game of Thrones world? What bittersweet luck I have,' thought Altair as he quickly accepted the fact that he had reincarnated into a realm of intrigue, danger, and wonder—a place where people navigated treacherous landscapes, political machinations, and magical forces.

'But wait, did she just say Jon? Am I the son of this man? What the hell? And am I the son of the second wife, Rowena? Am I a product of incest? Not that I care,' thought Altair as he cursed his unfortunate luck.

Altair first looked at the memory of the lady who was supposed to be his mother. She was truly a beautiful and elegant lady. From his reading in his previous life, he knew she was the cousin of her husband, who had died without any children. He who has in two weeks learned the common tongue due to his strong soul was going through the scene of that night of warmth in his mind.

A small tear ran down his sky blue eyes which matched the blue of house Arryn's banner. He decided that if he survived the

He then turned to look at his supposed father. He didn't feel the same warmth from his father as he did from his mother. Perhaps because his love for him is more as an heir bound by honour, duty and worry about his lineage. It can also be due to my mother being his second wife and his many stillborns earlier that he didn't feel much love from me apart from sense of duty of a father.

He was one of the few efficient lords in Westeros. Not greedy, he loved his people, and most of them liked him.

However, he became a fool for his honour. He fought a battle without any real benefits for his foster son.

Giving up the throne to a foolish drunkard when he was the backbone of the realm. Babysitting two impulsive teenagers—one an honourable fool and the other a whoring drunkard blinded by revenge. He also took on the laborious work of the Hand of the King, serving a king who himself didn't give a damn about ruling his kingdom.

He also ended up getting c*ckolded by his wife and his banner lord who he himself recommended to have a sit at the high table. All his life's honour burn to ashes by his wife giving birth to a son which he never discovers actually to be Petyr Baelish's son.

His end was more tragic than Caesar as Altair imagined his last words must have been, 'Et tu, Lysa?'. Thinking of this he burst in hysterical laughter which only came out as childish giggles of newborn.