[Chapter Size: 3100 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
Few in that hall already had an idea of what was happening beyond the Wall, but most were already aware of the movements in the North, even if only superficially. Some had their suspicions because they had brought a giant army from beyond the Wall as well.
"Though I may not be involved, we've heard about the force gathering at the Wall lately. We've heard that resources are being sent constantly from the houses of the North and also from Braavos, but White Walkers, Your Majesty? Doesn't that sound more like a myth?" one man among the group from the Westerlands asked, while everyone else immediately began whispering.
No one simply treated the king as a joke. The man who spoke maintained a cordial tone, trying not to offend him. Daemon could even understand their skepticism. At the very least, they had not insulted him, out of respect for everything he had already placed before them.
With that, Daemon looked at the man calmly.
"Well, before we begin with that, let me tell a brief story, since it would be good for all of you to know a little about me, what happened to me, and how I discovered this entire mess..." Daemon said after letting out a small sigh.
In the end, he decided not to go straight to the real problem.
"Let's start from the beginning... From the moment everything in my life was turned upside down... When I was eight years old, a storm surrounded Winterfell one night, without any warning..."
No one dared let out an audible breath at that moment. Everyone stared fixedly at the king without blinking.
Daemon began, and Lord Stark himself could not help but close his eyes in his corner. He still remembered that enormous storm very well and how, the following day, his nephew had disappeared without leaving a single trace behind, except for an open window.
"That wasn't just a storm. It was an intervention by the gods, because thanks to that, I was teleported directly to another world when the windows of my room flew open and I was pulled into what was actually a hurricane that covered all of Winterfell at the time."
The fact that he had gone to another world was no longer such an unprecedented thing to everyone. They had all heard the rumors ever since he first arrived in Winterfell and caused that commotion during the king's visit back then. Although many were still skeptical, his powers and abilities suggested otherwise. Daemon's powers did not come from this world...
"I lived in an orphanage in that unknown world. A world of magic, monsters... a world far more violent, where men stood closer to the gods than Westeros ever has..." he said, waiting for the people to finish whispering among themselves.
"In that world, I was adopted by a man after spending some time lost in that orphanage and in that world... That man took on the role of a father I never had. He was a wealthy man and managed to teach me the languages of that hostile land well... We traveled through Skyrim and other kingdoms across the continent for several years, until he eventually passed away. I watched him draw his final breath."
"He taught me everything he could, but there were still many things I lacked. Even so, those were eight years of training that I may never be able to repay him for. In his final moments, he told me that he had dreamed of a message from a god. That he was destined to find me. He said it was his duty to guide me. That was why I was chosen among all those children in Riften," Daemon said, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia.
Even though the people there did not understand the terms he revealed, they could certainly interpret Skyrim as a kingdom and Riften as a city.
"From the age of sixteen in that world, I had to go through countless trials. I studied magic from the age of fourteen, thanks to the sponsorship of the man who took me in as his ward. Since then, I had been accumulating challenge after challenge throughout my journey in that world, until finally the last challenge arrived, two years before I came here..." he said, pausing briefly.
"Alduin, the World-Eater, appeared. It was then that I discovered I possessed certain powers that had never revealed themselves before in that world, and we were already in the midst of a war. That power... was known as Dragonborn. As I once said in Winterfell, dealing with dragons has been my specialty ever since they first appeared. Something I already demonstrated when I fought the black dragon beyond the city walls, the night before we destroyed the enemy army. I used to fight battles like that while dragons ravaged the lands of Skyrim..." he said.
"When I defeated them, when I defeated Alduin in the end, the gods came to me and told me about my original world. They told me about my story, the truth I had never discovered."
"I was already a man of twenty-one years by then, so I decided to leave behind all my prestige and the affection I had there. I had lands, wealth, I was a man with political power, fame, and the status of a hero throughout the continent."
Of course, with such status came enemies just as dangerous... The Thalmor hated Daemon, and Daemon had fought alongside Skyrim and forced the Empire to retreat...
"The moment I discovered who I was and what family I belonged to, learned their history, I immediately felt compelled to return to this world, even if it meant never going back to the other one and leaving everything behind."
The Seven Kingdoms needed to know the story of their new king, so naturally Daemon would tell everyone present.
Maester Marwyn watched Daemon with considerable surprise. He observed the powerful and mysterious young man revealing a little of his origins.
Everyone exchanged ideas and spoke among themselves as the king talked about his experiences in the other world. He had become someone who, almost single-handedly, raised an army and won battle after battle in ways that many had never witnessed before. Yet there was no complexity in his methods. He won every engagement relentlessly. Even alone, he managed to create chaos, after all, many of those present had been in the middle of the enemy ranks and had seen it for themselves: a man surrounded by enemies, but instead of falling, he simply became a merciless killing machine.
"So all your power comes from another world? Are there others like you, Your Majesty?" someone asked uneasily.
He was one of the surrendered lords, a nobleman from the Reach. Daemon was no longer human in their eyes, and there was a lingering concern that there might be many others like him. If Daemon alone had caused so much chaos, how could anyone deal with more people like him...
Daemon looked at him and saw the uncertainty in the eyes of most of those present.
"Actually, I was the only one capable of killing dragons. I am known as the Dragonborn throughout Tamriel, which is the name of the continent. I possess the same powers as dragons, so you could say I was sent to that world precisely to destroy the chaos Skyrim was subjected to when the dragons returned and to defeat Alduin... There are too many coincidences, to say the least."
"I was sent there beforehand, ten years before the dragons arrived, so I could prepare myself thoroughly for what was coming. As if the gods themselves had already planned everything, if you wish to put it that way," Daemon said thoughtfully.
He would never have an answer to that. After all, it was clearly an Aedra who had sent him, but even he could not deal with such entities, beings that stood above the Daedric Princes.
He did not like the idea of being used as a pawn, not even by the gods, but what other choice had he had? He had only been a defenseless child at the time, and because of it, he had become stronger than anyone in that world could have ever dreamed of becoming.
"It wasn't only because I was Dragonborn that I stood apart from the rest of the people of Tamriel, the continent where I ended up, but also because I managed to reach the pinnacle of magic, mastering two schools in particular: Conjuration and Alteration. And you can count on your fingers how many grandmasters exist in each of those schools across the continent. They are exceedingly rare and powerful."
"But I achieved something that only mages with decades of effort and constant study ever managed. I accomplished all of that between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one."
If that wasn't extraordinary, Daemon didn't know what was.
What a magical grandmaster in any school would normally take decades to achieve—something only a handful in each generation among millions studying magic could ever reach, requiring on average sixty years of study—Daemon had accomplished in only six.
He was a variable that might not appear again in all of Tamriel for thousands of years...
That was without even considering that he had also spent most of his time honing his skills on the battlefield and during his travels rather than actually studying, since he had not spent even two full years within the College of Winterhold.
"Anyway, I also developed myself in other areas, but that's a story for another time. In short, everyone who has been with me has seen that I possess a certain talent for many things, from military knowledge to even medicine," Daemon said.
After all, there had been a problem when the army entered the Riverlands. Due to the vast number of corpses scattered throughout the realm, several diseases had emerged, and he himself had ordered the maesters to prepare countermeasures that were dispersed into the air against necrotic bacteria.
"In the other world, I was a grandmaster alchemist, a grandmaster runesmith, a grandmaster in two schools of magic, I served as a war general for three years, I served as a temporary king of Skyrim, negotiated directly with the Emperor after defeating his forces, killed dragons, and many other things. Living in Skyrim was a challenge every single day—you have no idea what happened there... I possess quite extensive knowledge in a wide variety of fields, if you wish to know."
Daemon revealed everything, causing the sound of dry throats swallowing to echo throughout the hall.
At this point, Daemon had already demonstrated such power, but hearing it directly... who among those present could compare themselves to a man who had lived through all of that?
"Returning to the central matter, when I came back to this world through the gods, I ended up north of the Wall... And that was no accident..." he said.
"That was three years ago," he recalled with a faint smile.
"Well, the first thing I encountered beyond the Wall was the Free Folk," he said, while many heads immediately turned toward the members of the Free Folk seated among the Northerners.
The Free Folk themselves had also signed the witness scroll, in a clause alongside the Northerners, although there were only three signatures, because few among them knew how to write. They belonged to Mance, Val, and Ygritte, the latter two currently learning under Maester Nolum.
"The second thing I encountered was dead men walking through the forest. I found that quite strange at the time. I hadn't imagined that this world would have magic."
"I studied them for a while, but in the end I burned them, and they fell dead. Later, I found the Free Folk and gradually learned more about what was happening."
"I never imagined that ancient legends used to frighten children were actually real. Something that would precede what was to come in this era, because I saw the army of the dead with my own eyes."
His voice immediately created a tense atmosphere throughout the hall.
Daemon's words no longer carried even the slightest hint of falsehood. Not even the Free Folk had seen everything he had witnessed farther to the north.
"Or at least I saw part of it. After all, I never actually encountered the true leader who commands them all."
"When I found them, they were trying to subjugate a frozen dragon. A dragon that you would later come to know as Winter. My ice dragon. I found her trapped within the ice created by this weapon."
Daemon raised his hand and displayed the Leviathan Axe, letting it drop before the throne. Just like the previous sword, it too was a weapon that had once belonged to a god.
"It is also a weapon that belongs to one of the ancient gods. And somehow, the dragon I brought to Westeros, before that Blackfyre brat, was trapped within it. I don't know what happened. Perhaps I will never discover the truth, but the fact remains that both the weapon and the dragon reacted to me. I would dare say that perhaps they were waiting for me, who knows..."
"Regardless, I freed her, and we have been partners ever since. I decided to help the Free Folk because they were all dying and would have been destroyed if they had remained beyond the Wall with the dead."
"That is true. Beyond the Wall, the dead walk. If we Free Folk were still there, only death would be waiting for us. The Dragon King took us out of that winter."
It was Tormund who spoke, and every head immediately turned toward him.
"Your Majesty, even if your words carry weight, isn't this all a bit exaggerated?" someone repeated the same question from before.
Daemon sighed as he looked toward the door.
"Bring me the creature."
"Naturally, when I reached an agreement with the Free Folk to help them move south, and for them to assist me in this war while following the laws of the kingdoms, we did not come empty-handed. In fact, we brought exactly the proof that everyone needs to understand why we must gather our forces in the North, at the Wall."
He spoke as a coffin began to be carried in by several men. The sound of something pounding from within seemed to frighten everyone present. There were no openings for the creature to breathe, which made the sight even more unsettling.
"Remove the side panels. Only those."
After all, the undead creature was inside a cage. They had covered it only because its screams were horrible and genuinely disturbed everyone during the night. That was why they kept it in darkness, so it would not cause as much trouble.
His men, despite their fearful expressions, began removing the nails that kept the cage sealed.
The moment one of the side panels was removed, a shrill scream erupted from inside as the men stumbled backward, a skeletal hand reaching out in an attempt to grab them.
It could be said that the reaction of those around it was immediate. Many cried out in shock and fear as they stared at that hand and listened to the creature's screams.
"How annoying..." Daemon merely muttered, paying little attention to the horror written across the faces of the maesters, lords, merchants, and members of the court.
Another board was removed, and soon they could see the creature turning its attention toward the opening as it threw itself against the bars, stretching out its skeletal arm. The men cried out in fear as they backed away, even though they had already expected this. After all, all of this had already been discussed in Winterfell...
Finally, the nobles began to see the creature: a corpse with exposed bones and glowing blue eyes.
All the covers were removed while Daemon remained silent, until at last the creature was fully exposed before everyone in the middle of the hall. Numerous prayers began spilling from mouths throughout the room upon seeing that thing, especially among the faithful, who regarded the abomination with horror.
It tried to lunge forward despite being restrained by the bars, causing anyone standing in its direction to involuntarily take two steps back.
"Your Majesty... what is that thing?" the High Septon asked, trembling with fear as he watched in horror.
"What is it? The thing all of you are looking at is what we will become if we lose this war. This is what our enemy in the North desires: to turn the world into a frozen wasteland, with the dead wandering across it."
"The poor soul that once rested within this body has now become a trapped spirit, a servant to its master, who is now marching south toward the Wall. And the Wall is all that prevents these things from reaching the realms of men. But winter is coming, and the sea will freeze. The Wall will no longer stop these things..."
He spoke in a serious tone before pausing once more.
"This has nothing to do with who will rule the Seven Kingdoms, who will receive rewards after the war, who will lose lands, or who will be forced to swear an oath. This is beyond human causes," Daemon said.
He then rose from the throne and descended the steps until he approached the cage itself.
The creature immediately tried to grab him, but with a simple movement of his fingers, Daemon sent it flying to the other side of the cage. It was thrown several feet backward and left pinned there, crashing against the bars and unable to move under the grip of his telekinesis.
"This is a war for survival, and we need the Seven Kingdoms for it," he said.
Daemon began noticing numerous bursts of yellow auras. His voice resonated like that of a man instilling a sense of duty into the heart of every person present.
A common enemy, one that stood beyond titles and glory—this was about survival...
And thanks to that small push, simply by presenting the problem through impactful words, he could already notice several yellow auras even among the defeated lords.
It seemed that all he needed was to find a reason for those men to stop acting like killers and, in the future, become people he could trust.
"That's good," Daemon said before continuing.
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