Chapter 1 – Rebirth
POV – First Person
I lived a relatively normal life. I was born and raised in Brazil, finished high school and college. I managed to get a stable job that let me live without major suffering. I had a few good friends, but never a girlfriend. Man… how hard it is to find someone whose ideas match yours. It didn't need to be everything — just enough — but for some reason, it never worked out.
Still, it was a good life. At least I became an uncle. My brother had some playful kids; I like children. A shame I never got married and had some of my own.
I expected to die and go to heaven… or something like that. But I find myself in a void. I don't think I've been here long — I guess. I don't consider myself crazy yet. I'm just remembering some of my regrets and some good memories, like that time when…
"Hey, man. Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Let me introduce myself. Some call me ROB, but that's not important. This is not the afterlife. People who died with good karma have the right to get a few wishes granted. So, let's go: you have three wishes, no more, no less."
I stare at the shadow in front of me, stunned. Was this God? I imagined He'd look different.
"Stop fantasizing," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "There are several of me out there. I'm responsible for your sector. Let's hurry, there are more people in line."
"Well, sir…"
"No need for formality. Make your three wishes and let's get going. Speak from your heart. This is the moment — you might never have this opportunity again. It's rare."
I look toward where ROB's eyes should be. He's basically a black mannequin with a mouth — but a mouth that seems entertained by my thoughts. Three wishes… I always loved fantasy worlds: ASOIAF, Lord of the Rings, even anime. They marked my childhood and shaped a bit of who I am.
"For my first wish… I want to be born in the universe of A Song of Ice and Fire, in the year 95 After Conquest."
"Noted. Next!"
I need to be careful. I'll be around Rhaenyra's age. I'll get to see dragons, live among them… I could change the story entirely. But I need to think calmly.
"I want to be a warg. The most powerful warg Westeros has ever seen — or ever will see."
"Alright. Last one, kid. Think carefully."
Luck… I wanted luck. But—
"I would like to ha—"
"That I cannot," he cuts me off. "Asking for luck is the same as asking for karma. Impossible. That's one of the few things I cannot grant."
Damn. Bad luck has always been my enemy. I could ask for Superman's strength, Thor's power… but that would ruin the fun. Being the strongest, never fearing anything… that doesn't sound interesting. Hmm… I think I'll go with this:
"I want to be able to create and use any Breathing Style from Demon Slayer."
"Good. Your wishes will be granted. At first, you wouldn't have the memories of your past life."
That catches me off guard. I hadn't thought about that. Being in ASOIAF without remembering anything… that would be very, very bad.
"Buuut, since I didn't grant one of your wishes and… well, because I'm feeling generous today, I'll let you keep your memories from your past life. Good luck — if I can even offer that… hahaha."
ROB laughs as the world around me begins to dissolve. I fall asleep…
I wake up feeling squeezed from all sides, like in a warm, comforting bath trying to push me outward. For a moment I don't know what's happening; I'm lost, directionless.
Light comes — blinding. And right after, a slap. On my butt. What? I was just born and I'm already getting hit. I start crying, but not because I want to — it's instinct.
Before I can even see clearly around me, a tremendous cold hits me, gnawing at skin and bone. And then I hear a gentle voice, which at first I can't understand, but so warm and soft that I feel safe.
In an instant, three years pass.
POV – Third Person
A small boy stood beside a tall woman with strong yet beautiful features. Her hair was black, as dark as a raven's feathers. Her brown eyes watched the boy with tenderness and motherly affection.
The boy — Barthogan, or Barth, as he was called — stared curiously at what looked like a wooden carving of a bear. His serious expression, unusual for his age, revealed a calm temperament.
"Mom, when will I be able to go hunting with Dad? He says I'm strong and smart. I should be able to go with him already! I'll help him hunt!" Barth said proudly, waving the wooden bear.
"Barth, honey, you're far too young for that. I have to wrap you in several furs just so you don't shiver yourself apart. Wait a little longer, alright?"
"But Mom…"
"For Mommy, you'd wait, right, Barthogan?" she said affectionately, gazing into the boy's golden–yellow eyes.
Barth seemed to lose his words under that intense look. After a small sigh, he murmured:
"I'll stay with you, Mommy…"
The woman immediately lifted him into her arms and began covering him with fast kisses before he could protest.
"My boy is so obedient!" smooch! "He makes me so proud!" smooch! "So cute!" smooch!
The boy tried to escape his mother's "claws" while she continued attacking him with kisses.
POV – First Person
I tried escaping from my mother as she grabbed me and showered me with affectionate kisses. I was never good with this kind of clinginess. I know my mother… Clea… is very attached to me, but sometimes she goes way overboard.
I was almost breaking free when the cabin door opened and a cold wind sliced through our furs. A strong, booming voice echoed:
"I'm home, my little kittens!!"
My father, Magnus, quickly removed his first coat — soaked with snow or maybe just bits of grass — and joined the group hug, lifting both me and Clea high into the air.
He was a giant. In my previous life, I had never seen a man of his size, not even on digital platforms. Broad shoulders, dense muscles, almost seven feet and three inches tall. My mother was tall and strong too, nearly six feet one, but next to him she looked small. And I… looked like a gnome.
My thoughts were interrupted when Clea asked:
"Magnus, how was the hunt? Are you hurt? I missed you!"
His thunderous laughter filled the cabin.
"Ha! I'm fine, Clea. And it all went well: I got a big boar! We'll eat well for the next few days. And I missed you too. It was only three days, but it felt like the Long Night."
He set us down and crouched in front of me.
"And you, Barth, did you protect your mother while I was gone?"
"Watch what you say to the boy, you stupid bear!" my mother snapped, giving him a few light taps on the head. "Who said I need protection? I'm no southern maiden! I'm a free woman!"
My mother was tough… and dangerous. And, as if she sensed my thoughts, she gave me that brown–eyed stare that seemed to dismantle me.
"Isn't that right, Barth?"
"Mom is strong, Dad. But I helped her while you were gone," I said, trying to be diplomatic. Maybe I'd steal Jaehaerys' title someday, haha.
My father laughed and picked me up again.
"Glad to hear it, son! I brought you a gift. Try to guess!"
The last gift had been a wooden bear. And before that, several wooden animals too. He learned early that I liked animals and started carving them for me.
"Hmm… a wooden deer, Dad?" I remembered him mentioning something like that to my mother a few days ago.
"Hahaha! Wrong, kid!"
He set me down, grabbed his coat and the bundle he left near the door, and rummaged through it until he pulled something out.
A necklace.
"When I was hunting, a lone direwolf attacked me. Poor thing was weak — maybe that's why the pack abandoned it. I made this necklace for you, Barth — so you may grow strong and mighty like a direwolf."
The fang was bigger than my hands. Heavy. And very cool.
"Thank you, Dad! I'll wear it every day!" I said, smiling as I put it on.
"Glad you liked it, son."
Magnus looked at Clea.
"I'll handle the boar now."
"Go to bed, Barth. I'll help your father skin the beast."
"Okay, Mom."
My child body tired quickly. Helping my mother with daily chores left me exhausted, and the cold made sleep even heavier.
Our cabin had two rooms: the kitchen/living area and the bedroom we shared. I lay down on the bed next to theirs and let my thoughts run…
Learning the language was complicated. The Old Tongue sounded like German mixed with Russian, nothing like English or Portuguese. My mother knew a bit of the Common Tongue, which sounded a lot like English — that helped.
I was already fluent in the Common Tongue and understood the Old Tongue well. I just needed to be careful not to use nonexistent words.
And of course, I needed to figure out how to leave the Lands of Always Winter. When I asked to be a warg, I imagined I'd be a Stark or a northern bastard… not a wildling beyond the Wall.
Bad luck strikes again.
But at least my family is united and happy. My father has contact with the Thenns for trade and took part in an invasion a few years ago. My parents are around twenty-five and have been together a long time.
I tried creating a Breathing Style… and failed miserably. My body isn't ready. I felt strong pain in my chest. Better to wait.
As for warging… I found a rat, but refused to enter a mind like that. Then a group of seagulls. But since food is scarce, I can't feed them to gain their trust. Even so, I watch them. I feel that someday, it'll work.
And if not a seagull… that's fine. When I'm older and get to explore the forests with my father, I'll find a proper partner…
I fell asleep, lost in thought.