2 Chapter 2

303 AC:

"Please," Melisandre pleads with all her being, desperate for a sign, any sign, that her lord didn't abandon her. Yet, She receives no response.

Slowly the rest of the people in the room trickle out to prepare the pyre for burning the body. With the Red Woman and Ser Davos being the last to get out, Leaving the albino direwolf guarding the corpse of its master.

Suddenly, The direwolf rises looking at his master sensing a change in him. The silence of the room is broken by a sudden gasp of the man on the table.

"*Hah* *Hah* *Hah*... Fuck you, Melisandre, *Hah* Fuck you, R'hollr, *Hah* And fuck you, D&D." The man manages between gasps, His eyes roaming the room he is in and finally resting on his naked form and wounded chest. Realizing that this is no bad dream, He stumbles, falling off the table onto the floor.

The man stays on the floor for a bit, before finally taking a hold of himself. He stands naked as the day he was born and walks to the wall to steady himself, only to stumble falling on the ground face-first into the fires of the brazier.

'Fucking great, what a way to start. Scarred by fire so much that they will probably not be able to recognize me when they see me. That is, of course, If I don't break my neck because of the force of the fall.' He thinks, bracing himself for the incoming pain before his vision is engulfed by the bright flames.

'... That's weird. I am not hurt by the fall, and how the hell am I not screaming in pain by now?' He rises from the fire, feeling nothing but warmth as the fire touches him, the tendrils of the flame longingly clinging to his skin before retreating when he fully backs away from the flame.

'... Am I immune to fire? Did my Valyrian blood awaken after I died?' He pondered, putting his palm inside the fire, He watches in morbid fascination as the fire licks at him. Yet, the only thing he feels is warmth.

' I will check this later, for now, there are more pressing matters to take care of.' He takes the valyrian blade of House Mormont, Longclaw, that was beside the table and arms himself with it. Only now does he remember the direwolf that was silently watching him since he woke up.

Walking to it, He extends his palm letting Ghost sniff at it for a bit before gently licking it, affirming that he acknowledges him as his master. And with that acknowledgment, he feels the bond between him and the direwolf, As if he could become one with him anytime he wants. 'Interesting...'

He stands in front of the door of the room with Ghost beside him, taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he steps outside the room. There was no one in the hallway which was weird considering Davos enters the room as soon as Jon starts gasping in the show. Perhaps He woke up earlier than Jon did in canon?

"... I don't feel cold," He surprises himself by the realization that it wasn't just because of his high body heat but also due to his body adjusting to the cold treating him as if it was an old friend.

The sound of wood hitting the ground alerts him to a little boy from the free folk (his clothing gave it away.) looking at him as if he was a wight. They maintain eye contact for a few seconds before the boy screams and runs away probably to alert the others.

'Well, so much for not trying to scare anyone. Let's hope I don't scare them too much.' Waiting for the people the boy will bring, I start thinking about what to do from now on and how to adjust to my new identity as Jon Snow/Aegon Targaryen. the thing about me killing myself was a bluff, I was too much of a coward to actually do it, even with me knowing about the horrors of this world.

It came suddenly without any warning, memories and experiences poured inside my head and took hold of my being. First came the memories of Jon Snow, which were like a breath, showing me his life from his birth at the Tower of Joy to his death at the courtyard of Castle Black.

The warm smile that rarely graced his father's cold features, The cold eyes that lady Catlyen had only for him, Robb's smirk after a good spar, Sansa's hiding from him after she used to cling him to him and Robb after she knew what the word bastard meant, The times that each of Arya, Bran, and even little Rickon pestered him to play with them that he knew were only fleeting moments before their mother and the Septa forced them to stop.

Going to the wall, knowing that his father abandoned him. Making friendships with those he thought were the dregs of society. Going beyond the wall and meeting Ygritte... The thought to do as she told him and leave it all. Returning to the wall and fighting against the only people that didn't sneer at him due to his birth, Watching the love of his life die in his arms. Killing a White Walker and feeling the sheer hopelessness and despair when the Night King raised the dead at Hardhome...

The betrayal of his 'brothers', Each stab hurting more than the last, draining him of his lifeblood and draining his soul with it. The only thoughts he had through were 'Why?', 'How could you?', and 'I don't want to die!'. But just as the darkness overtook him, He couldn't help but wish that he remained in that cave with her forever...

All the emotions he felt, All the thoughts he had, All the regrets...

A sad and short life, Of young and naive bastard. Rest assured, wherever you are Jon Snow, I will not waste this life and I will take care of the Starks.

That was the easy part, The hard part came after. The memories of Ryomen Sukuna the king of curses, Gojo Satoru the strongest sorcerer, and Megumi Fushiguro wielder of shadows became part of me as their powers made themselves known to me. Are these what those marbles were? Powers and experiences of powerful individuals?

Thankfully, They were without the emotional attachments that Jon's memories had. However, they came packed with memories showing the horrific acts that Sukuna did during the golden age of Sorcerers and the things that both Gojo and Megumi saw while on their jobs exorcising curses. The things I saw were so disgusting and horrible, that I feared I'd become desensitized by them.

Calming down for a bit, I began to sense it, the ridiculous quantities of curse energy present not only in the wall and the area around but in this entire world. The only reason this world wasn't overrun with curses, was probably because the laws of this world don't support the creation of curses leaving the curse energy to affect people just by its sheer existence.

And the only one who can make use of it is me!

There is so much cursed energy that I could probably use a domain as much as I like without worrying about consumption!

And what's with this weird power? It's not cursed energy, that's for sure. Yet it seems to be similar to it, Using the power of emotions to cause a change in the world, As if it was a lesser form of curse energy... but unlike curse energy, it looks like it some form of medium to take effect like a ritual, an object, a sacrifice... and it needs to be stored in blood of the one who uses it, the more you use it the more toll it takes on you, both physically and mentally...

Is this... magic? Is this the magic of Westeros, no, Planteos? I can feel it in my veins, in the wall, in Longclaw, and In a few sources around here. I will have to investigate them later.

I am distracted from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps on stone getting nearer, the footsteps halt as Ser Davos and Melisandre show themselves.