A Different Song (ASOIAF- OC/Reincarnation)

Chapter 15: The Burdens of Love II

Daemon Snow

79AC

I felt the cold, Northern air kiss my cheeks as I stood in the sparring yard, facing my uncle Bennard Stark. The sun was high, casting long shadows over the packed dirt and the wooden training dummies that lined the perimeter. My heart pounded in my chest, not from fear, but from the thrill of the challenge that lay before me. Uncle Bennard was renowned as the greatest fighter in the North, perhaps even all of Westeros, and today, for the first time, I would face him in a duel.

Uncle Rickon had often sung praises of my skills, boasting to anyone who would listen that I would one day become the greatest warrior the North had ever seen. It was his constant prodding and encouragement that had led to this moment. Uncle Bennard had nothing to his name except his marriage to the Karstarks and the reputation as a great warrior. It made him angry when Uncle Rickon praised me so much and after he left to fight the wildlings, when soldiers started whispering during training, Uncle Bennard snapped and called me to a spar. I had spent the last two years honing my agility and flexibility, preparing for the day I would stand across from Uncle Bennard, who had never shown me anything but scorn.

The sparring yard was filled with onlookers – guards, servants, and my friends, all eager to witness the spectacle. Uncle Bennard's cold blue eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world around us faded away. He moved first, a blur of steel aimed at my stomach. I dodged the slash, moving with the fluid grace I had seen in the old tales of Braavosi water dancers, pulling a move straight out of the stories of the great warriors of old. We clashed in a furious meeting of swords, and after only a few minutes, I understood why Bennard held his title—not because of his Stark name, but because of his unmatched skill. I have observed Uncle for years and my talent steal has picked up enough, others believed I was a natural prodigy. Yet, even now, I found myself depending on my inhuman speed and reflexes to defend myself because of the skill gap. My talent steal was working overtime to increase my proficiency in Swordfighting due to the actual serious practice with a master Swordsman. Rest of the people I spar with always hold back and I didn't have to use my enhanced speed that much with them.

I could see anger rise in my uncle's eyes as he struggled to beat me as easily as he expected and the spar continued on. My speed only increased, and I decided to lay a trap, knowing his anger at me would cloud his judgment. I stumbled as I stepped back, and his sword swung toward my neck. Even with a sparring sword, the force behind it would leave a mark. But I was ready. Since he had never warmed to me or contained his scorn, I decided to defeat him soundly.

As the sword neared my neck, I pulled a Nero from Matrix and bend backwards. As I stood with my body bend at knees and entire upper body parallel to the earth I saw the sword going above me. My left hand touched the earth, pushing upwards and I used my leg muscles to jump forward. Even before my uncle's sword finished the slash or uncle could reverse his slash, my explosive speed allowed me to appear inside his reach. During the jump my left hand drew a knife from my hip, while dropped the sword from my right hand. My speed was too much for him; as he couldn't even stop the momentum of the previous swing at my neck, my knife was at his throat while right hand pushed his sword hand further to his left making him stumble. The onlookers stared at me as if I were an Other—no one had ever seen such moves in the sparring yard.

"Aha, Uncle Bennard," I said, breathing hard but steady. "It seems you underestimate me so much that I could do this."

I spoke loudly, offering him a way to save face. Even he understood the gesture, though the barely restrained fury in his eyes was unmistakable.

The applause that followed was thunderous, a chorus of cheers and clapping that filled the yard. But the celebration was short-lived.

Before anything of note could happen, we were interrupted by Brandon my sworn sword.

"My Lords " he said, bowing slightly. "Both of your presence is requested by Lord Stark."

It was unusual for my grandfather to summon us together. Usually, he would meet with us individually, dispensing his wisdom and guidance. I glanced at Uncle Bennard, seeking some clue as to what this might be about, but he merely shook his head and frowned.

"Perhaps it's news of Uncle Rickon from the Wall," I said hopefully. Uncle Rickon's absence weighed heavily on me as I couldn't keep an eye on him as my own 3 eagles are not quite ready to survive near The Wall. He had been more than a mentor; he was a friend and confidant. "Maybe he will return early so that I don't have to teach Cregan anymore. It is quite tiresome to teach someone."

Uncle Bennard gave a noncommittal grunt, as he threw the wooden sword to the nearest soldier. We followed Brandon through the corridors of Winterfell, the ancient stones echoing with our footsteps.

We entered the Solar, where my grandfather, Lord Stark, sat upon his seat. His face was a mask of stern resolve, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that I had never seen before.

"Father," Uncle Bennard said, bowing his head. "You summoned us?"

Grandfather nodded, his gaze heavy upon us. "I have received grave news," he began, his voice steady but filled with a weight that seemed to press upon all of us. "Rickon is dead."

The words hit me like a blow to the chest. The world tilted, and for a moment, I could hardly breathe. Uncle Rickon, one of my greatest support after my grandfather, was dead—along with my own plans. Anger at the stupid loss of a competent man nearly made me shout at my grandfather, who had banned me from going with my uncle. Surely, if I had been there, he would have survived. I looked to Uncle Bennard—the traitor who would one day contest Cregan's claim. His face had gone pale, his fists clenched at his sides. I could see anger and sadness warring within him. Seeing that, I wondered why I felt no sadness for the loss of my uncle, who had loved me and treated me fairly.

"How?" Uncle Bennard asked, his voice a harsh whisper.

Grandfather's eyes were filled with pain. "He died at Queenscrown during a night raid by the wildlings," he said. "The incursion was far greater in number than we had been led to believe. The reports spoke of scattered bands, no more than four hundred in total. But there were a thousand of them. Rickon and his men fought bravely, but they were outnumbered and ambushed in the night during a harsh summer snowstorm. The wildlings, who know even harsher climates, were not affected as our men were."

Uncle Bennard couldn't reply and a silence enveloped the solar.

There was a knock that broke the silence and My aunt Giliane Stark entered the Solar after gaining permission. She smiled at me, and I tried to smile back, but couldn't. She frowned, seeing my face. After she became friendly with me, our kinship deepened, especially after Cregan was born and began to talk. The tales I told him and his growing affection for me influenced her, and I could say she genuinely cared for me. I felt sympathy, knowing she would lose her smile immediately.

I listened as Grandfather explained what had happened. I heard the disbelief and the sounds of crying. I went near Aunt Giliane and tried to take her hands in mine to console her, but Uncle Bennard beat me to it.

"I will escort my sister-in-law to my wife, so they can mourn together, Father," Uncle Bennard said, bowing, his face showing suppressed sorrow.

"Grandfather, what is to be done now? Are you going to call the banners?" I asked tiredly, carefully keeping any trace of "I told you so" out of my voice.

He scrutinized me, searching for something, and I noticed he looked far older than he had the day before. The loss of a second child had affected him deeply.

"Not now, Daemon," he replied. "Today is for mourning. I must break this news to my heir, Cregan. Come with me; he may find it easier to handle with you there."

I nodded in understanding.

Next Day

Uncle Bennard said "I will go to the Wall, I will take Rickon's place and the Stark men and command the Umber, Karstark and Mormont men you have summoned to the wall."

"No," Grandfather said, shaking his head. "You are needed here, Bennard. We will send a contingent of our best men, and I, as Lord Stark, will lead them. The Gift will be secured."

I looked at my grandfather, feeling a surge of resolve. "I will also come with you." I said.

There was a stunned silence, followed by a murmur of disapproval. Grandfather's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. "No, you are too young. You are needed here, to continue your training and to prepare for the responsibilities that will one day be yours. Moreover, Cregan needs you now."

"But I am ready," I insisted. "I have trained hard, and I have the skills. Let me honor Uncle Rickon by continuing his work and killing every single wildling."

Grandfather's gaze softened, but he remained firm. "You have a brave heart," he said. "But your place is here, with your family. There will be other ways for you to honor Rickon's memory."

I felt a wave of frustration but knew better than to argue further. Grandfather's word was law, and I would have to find another way to go with the 1500 men army.

"Father, he is young, but I am not. Why should I not be gone, while you stay here and rule. My brother is dead and my sword seek vengeance. I am the best sword in the north even if someone believes otherwise." Uncle Bennard said angrily.

Grandfather's eyes flashed with pain. "Because I cannot bear the loss of you too," he said, his voice heavy with emotion.

"I cannot see another of my sons die while I live. I will not suffer through it. I am the Warden of the North. It is my duty to protect it. I will scour even beyond the Wall, to the lands of always winter if need be, but I will kill every last one of them. This is my final order, and you both will follow it." My grandfather snapped with fury.

My uncle looked cowed for a moment, but he stood angrily.

"If it so Lord Stark, then I will follow your orders as a loyal son should." He bowed and left.

Seeing the storm in my grandfather's eyes, I left as well, swallowing my frustration without further argument.

I stood with Cregan in the Godswood, alongside my grandfather.

"Grandfather, why must you go as well? Please, don't go," Cregan whimpered, sadness evident on his face.

"I must do this, Cregan. You are the heir now, and when you are Lord of Winterfell, you will understand. Our lives are not the most important thing here. I will come back, Cregan, after avenging your father. Daemon will teach you the secrets of House Stark and train you in his abilities. Uncle Bennard will guide you on how to be a Lord Stark and manage Winterfell and the North."

Cregan nodded, trying not to cry, though his understanding was tinged with sorrow.

I looked at him, feeling pity for the loss he suffered at such a young age. The complete lack of sadness in myself made me panic—I wasn't a psychopath or a sociopath in my old life. I had felt sadness at the passing of my relatives, but now there was nothing. Only bitterness and an empty feeling as my plans were ruined. I shook my head, trying to clear these thoughts.

"Daemon," my grandfather said, looking at me. "You know what to teach him, how to train his magical abilities. There's no need to awaken his greenseer abilities since we already have one. Be there for him."

"Of course, Grandfather. Be careful and stay safe," I said as he hugged me.

Near Moles Town

Weeks later

Benjen Stark

Ever since his son was killed in an ambush by wildlings, he had been filled with anger. Anger was something he could control, letting it simmer in the background until he could unleash it upon the murderers. But the sadness—that was something else entirely. Outliving two of his children had left a gaping wound in his heart. Only the duties of leading this army allowed him to momentarily forget the pain. That was why he didn't want either Bennard or Daemon with him. He couldn't bear it if anything happened to them.

As they set up camp for the night, he oversaw the preparations, watching as the soldiers followed orders from the overseers. He had been proud of his son and the 200 soldiers who fought alongside him. Their families had been rewarded generously, for even when ambushed by 1,000 wildlings in the dead of night, they had killed 500 of them. He would find out how the Night's Watch had failed so catastrophically with the information, and he would make sure they suffered for it along with the wildlings who killed his heir. His 1,500-man army had been joined by 500 soldiers each from the Umbers and Karstarks, along with 250 Mormonts. The lords themselves led the armies, eager for revenge against the wildlings and fighting directly under him. He had already sent a letter informing The King of his heir's death and mustering small force to deal with the Wildlings.

His thoughts were interrupted by a scuffle behind him, and he turned to see Lady Mormont dragging her eldest daughter, Lyra Mormont. At first, he thought it was none of his concern, until he noticed that her right hand was gripping the arm of his grandson, Daemon Snow, who was supposed to be safely at Winterfell. Daemon looked outraged by Lady Mormont's treatment, clearly holding back from retaliating, or stopping the dragging altogether. As the realization of Daemon's presence here sank in, he felt a wave of hopelessness and rage building within him.

"For the sake of the Old Gods, woman, don't drag me like a criminal. You just had to ask, and I would have come with you," Daemon snapped.

"Silence. Let Lord Stark deal with you and my girl," Lady Mormont snapped back.

For a moment, Benjen thought Lady Mormont had caught Daemon and her daughter in a compromising position, but upon careful observation, he saw no indication of anything inappropriate.

"Lord Stark," Lady Mormont bowed to him. He nodded in acknowledgment. "I must apologize for my daughter's actions. She helped your grandson infiltrate the army and become a part of it. I don't know the details of how or when, but I caught them and brought them to you. I will, of course, defer the punishment for my daughter to you, as she assisted him in defying your orders."

Benjen closed his eyes and sighed in exhaustion before donning the mask of Lord Stark. He avoided looking at Daemon, knowing that seeing his grandson's face might weaken his resolve.

"Aethan!" he shouted for his aide and foster son, who was with him in the army. Aethan, who was directing soldiers as they set up his tent, looked surprised at the angry call but quickly composed himself and walked over.

"Grandfather, Aethan had nothing to do with me being here. I didn't inform him of my plans because I knew you would have ordered him to notify you if anything like this happened," Daemon said with a hint of smugness.

Benjen heard Daemon's words and ignored them, focusing on the approaching Aethan. When Aethan saw Daemon, he looked genuinely surprised, confirming Daemon's truthfulness.

Aethan, seeing Benjen's furious expression and the guilty look on Daemon's face, immediately bowed. "Lord Stark, you must believe me, I had no part in whatever Daemon has done now."

Benjen, despite his anger, nearly laughed as memories of similar situations at Winterfell flashed through his mind. He sighed wistfully, the fleeting happiness abruptly ending as his thoughts lingered on his son's laughter during those better times.

He finally turned to look at Daemon. His grandson's hair was hidden by a helmet, and he was dressed as usual, without any armor. He was dirty, the only sign of his harsh journey. Though Benjen and his soldiers were weary and tired, Daemon seemed as energetic as ever, his eyes filled with determination and a cold indifference that hid any other emotions or worry about being sent back to Winterfell.

And Benjen understood....

He realized that if he didn't allow Daemon to be part of this army, he would lose him entirely. Whatever love Daemon had for him would be forgotten, and Daemon would do what he wanted anyway. He understood that of all his orders till now was followed only because they aligned with Daemon's goals. From the time Daemon was four and the R'hllor incident, He always knew he couldn't tame Daemon and mold him to an obedient son in the usual fashion of nobility, but he thought he would have enough time till he come of age at 16 until he has to worry about such disobedience.

"Lord Stark," the voice of Lord Umber shook him from his thoughts. Benjen noticed that his angry shouting had attracted the attention of both lords and many soldiers. The Umber and Karstark men seemed to enjoy the break from the monotony of marching, but he could see that the Stark men were happier. The Stark household guards seemed energized, as if their worry about the coming battles had vanished just by Daemon's presence. Benjen understood—they were relieved to have the God-blessed boy with them, someone who could heal any injuries, and they would be furious if he sent Daemon back.

"Lord Umber, Lord Karstark, there is nothing to worry about. Go and settle your men. The rest of you, return to your duties," Lord Stark ordered.

As the others dispersed, Benjen turned to Lady Mormont. "Lady Mormont, take your daughter with you. I will decide on any punishment after speaking with my errant grandson."

Benjen turned to Daemon and placed a hand on his shoulder, leading him to his newly erected tent. Aethan followed them inside, while the guards moved far enough away to avoid overhearing anything.

"Daemon, when and how did you arrive here? Did you actually steal a horse from Winterfell to reach us? Where is Brandon, your sworn sword? Is he here?" Benjen asked.

"I arrived after you left Last Hearth, grandfather. I am no thief and have no need for a horse. I ran here ofcourse. Why waste a perfect opportunity to train my sprinting speed and stamina. It took me seven days of running to catch up to you, and I asked Lyra for help to blend in and a small place in her tent for sleeping as I am quite fed up with sleeping in the open while my Eagles guard me. I left

Brandon in Winterfell and I ordered Brandon to guard Cregan as he would guard me," Daemon replied.

"Impressive," Benjen said, genuinely surprised. "Your stamina and speed are quite extraordinary and it is very good that you didn't steal a horse from my stables."

Daemon shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I had time. I could have been faster if needed, but I was carrying these added weights." He revealed weighted metal guards on his hands, legs, upper body and a metal neck guard by moving his baggy clothes aside. They looked like vambraces and greaves, but Benjen knew no sane warrior would wear such thick and heavy protection if they wanted to move quickly.

Benjen was astonished at the sight. He had never been able to make Daemon stop wearing added weights in his daily life. It was incredible to see Daemon even swimming with them.

"I see that you won't follow my command to return, so you will be allowed to join as my page, but only if you lose the weights for the rest of the time. A battlefield is no place for training, and you should be free of burdens. Your punishment starts now: you will be on latrine duty every day we camp, and you will sleep with the lower-ranked Stark soldiers in the open, with no amenities of the lords available to you. And you can start now by cleaning this," Benjen finished, untying his sword from his back and throwing Ice at Daemon's face with surprising speed.

Daemon tried to protest the punishment order immediately and only his almost inhuman reflexes allowed him to catch Ice before it broke his nose.

Benjen's face was still a mask of cold rage while Dameon grumbled as he started to unsheathe Ice to clean it by cloth.

Benjen watched as he heard the whispers by Daemon all the while Aethan laughed from the side who started smirking when the punishement started.

"Ic… Valyrian steel… stupid… making me… old…" Daemon mumbled, putting the sword down on the ground to fetch cleaning materials from a corner of the tent.

Suddenly, Benjen moved quickly, grabbed the sword, and slashed vertically across Daemon's back. Daemon yelled in surprise, rolled forward, and landed on his back, staring at his attacker. Benjen made another swift move and slashed again, the tip of Ice slicing through the vambraces on Daemon's arms. Though Daemon moved back faster than expected, the length of Ice still made contact possible as per his wish.

"What the fuck?" Daemon yelled, somersaulting backward with a hand stand and splitting his legs making it parallel to the ground to avoid Benjen's next slash aimed at his greaves.

Benjen stopped knowing that he will not make contact again as Daemon has overcome the surprise nature of his attack and adjusted to length advantage of Ice.

Daemon sat back and panted.

Daemon sat back, panting. "What the hell, grandfather? Why are you trying to kill me?" Daemon snapped.

"Kill you? Never," Benjen replied with smug satisfaction. "You were moving too slow in following my first order to leave the weights behind, so I thought I'd help you remove them." He pointed the sword tip toward the broken pieces of metal scattered around the tent as Daemon had trying dodge from his attacks.

Benjen saw Daemon realizing as he gaped at the broken metal and touched his back looking for any wounds and finding none. He looked at his hand and he saw a small scratch and blood leaking but it was already half healed.

Benjen laughed heartily seeing the usually over-confident grandson opening and closing his mouth several times as he tried to find words.

"You just had to say it! And I would have dropped it immediately. For the Old God's sake, you could have killed me! It was Valyrian steel—you could have wounded me deeply!" Daemon yelled in outrage.

"Oh, shut it, Daemon. If I had harmed you, there's nothing to worry about—you always say you'll heal by tomorrow morning. You know Ice is an extension of my hand, and any worthy warrior wielding Valyrian steel, who know their secrets, has that advantage if they really know how to use it, which I have taught you. Ice is not any ordinary sword, it is an extension of my hand and It will only cut where I want." Benjen said, still grinning like a madman.

"I have nothing to say," Daemon muttered. He quickly unlocked the greaves and threw them into the corner of the tent, not wanting his mad grandfather to dismember his legs.

Benjen only laughed at that. "the piece looking similar to The Neck Guard too." He said.

Benjen saw Daemon tensing.

"I will not do that, Grandfather. This is not for training, this is actually a neck guard."

Benjen was really surprised hearing that and looked puzzled.

"A Complete Beheading is not something I could heal from Grandfather. I am not a fool who doesn't protect his vulnerability. Any sword except Valyrian Steel will be stopped by this and even if somehow pierce it and hit my flesh, it will only be a wound I could heal from." Daemon said.

"I understand," Benjen said, "Now, get to cleaning."

Benjen started laughing again as he left the tent, leaving Daemon to clean the sword.

"Curse him," Daemon whispered. He sighed in disappointment, realizing he would have to follow the punishments for now. Though he had planned to delegate or bribe the first Stark man he saw to do his latrine duty for him, Daemon decided not to risk seeing what madness his grandfather would attempt if he actually didn't do it.

"Well, Daemon, I'd say that's one way to make sure you follow orders." Aethan said with a smug grin, "and how was the road?"

Author's Note: Well, it was heavily implied that Rickon will die. Here its earlier than canon and even escape from 1000 men ambush is not that easy.

And yes, you read it right, Valyrian Steel is more than rust resistant and something that will go through almost anything. If you know how to use its estoric aspects and if you are a warrior of moderate skill, you become good.

Good becomes great

Great becomes prodigy

Prodigy becomes legendary

Legendary becomes once in a lifetime.

So, the numbers are;

Stark:1500

Karstark:500

Umber:500

Mormont:250

Next: Chapter 16 : 'Under the walls of Nightfort' : first full scale battle I have ever written.

Looking forward to the reactions, comments and discussions!!!

To read ahead chp 16, 17,18,19 : My Patreon : SEarch for Black Wolf

My Discord

My Stories: All For Me. MHA AU.

Grim: Last Hope. (HP/DC/Marvel/Invincible)