Book 1 : Rise of the White Dragon

Small note for clarity as you read this story.

'inner thought' – and quoting someone.

"Speaking aloud"

"Dragon-Tong"

Written text

Tessarions time weaves.

In the year 92 A.C., House Targaryen was at the top of its strength yet and wouldn't stay that way until a war called the Dance of the Dragons began. In those days, people only saw it as a decline of its power, yet House Targaryen would never be as feared again. Yet in the year 303 A.C., the world needed those dragons and the family that held them. Yet only three young dragons newly hatched were around, and only two members of the one great house remained. One raised a bastard, a dragon raised among wolves. Another was raised on the streets of the East. ,

So when the darkest days of the world came, the realm of Aegon the Conquered—the realm he had forged—and humanity were unprepared. The living fought against the dead and each other, the Others and their minions, and blue eyes ever haunting.

The living thought they had won after Arya Stark slew the champion of the Great Other, The Night King, and all his minions fell with him. Yet not known to the living that its darkness remained, waiting for an opportunity to strike even after victory. This came after the Mother of Dragons Daenerys Targaryen faltered, fell into despair, and burnt Kingslanding.

Feeling the eventuality, Aemon Targaryen, known as Jon Snow, took up his duty and committed an act of kin slaying. After he stabbed Daenerys Targaryen in her heart, this is where this story begins—amid tragedy and despair. (I'm not sure about this part. Let me know what you think of it. )

Jon Snow/Aemon Targaryen (Year 304 A.C.)

Kingslanding – Cells.

He woke up with a gasp. As the nightmare that had haunted him for two moons had again woken him. The cell in which he was was dark, and he had been grateful; the Black cells of the Red Keep had collapsed, as had many other things that day.

The hope for peace, the change to rest. All of it gone in a day, and not even after killing the women he had loved, he was given peace. Grey Worm's words haunted him, 'You killed my Queen, I saw her dead in the dragon's claws. I will not kill you for what you have done. As I know your pain, to live when one you love is gone. You will live with the guilt of what you have done for many a year,' Grey Worm had vowed.

He had kept his promise. He had been left to think about what he had done, and each night when he closed his eyes, Daenerys final words and her look haunted him in his dreams.

Yet now, as he looked at the sunbeams coming through the bars of his cell, he knew it was dawn. The beginning of a new day of thinking and languishing in agony.

That spell broke when the door opened. "Hello, brother. Or should I say Aemon?" His mouth was open when he saw what it was. "Bran? What are you doing here?" He asked, gaping, and then something else came to his mind. 'Bran was walking.'

When Bran saw the recognition, Bran's actions to him were unthinkable and swift. He felt the piercing pain and flash of Valyrian Steel. As his chest was pierced, he felt the blood fill his lungs and pierce his heart. "Bran," He choked as he fell to the ground and looked up.

Bran knelt, a malicious smile came in, and his brother's eyes turned blue. "Thank you for killing her, and with your death, this world will be mine, masters." The voice that came out of his brother was cold and wasn't Bran's. 'The Night King, he lives.' He thought in despair.

The final slash cut his throat. He didn't feel the pain anymore, just the cold, and everything was becoming black. The last thing he saw was the Night King smiling at him as he died.

We felt the cold. It was all still black, yet there wasn't any cold anymore. 'What is this? I'm dead. Is this where the last time was?' He wondered as he looked around in the blackness.

"No, you weren't fully that time. You still lived inside your wolf." A booming voice said, and then he saw shapes appear, not a form of something more like fog or clouds, he supposed. 'What in the seven hells.' He thought. "Not quite. It still is unknown where you will go when you die. After you decide if you want to live or die." Another voice said, yet it was more mocking.

"Where am I?" He questioned the shapes. "In a place between the plain of the living and those of the dead. We couldn't send you to one of the dead yet at least. A mortal can't handle having seen it and returning." A softening voice said.

"Who are you?" He asked, yet he knew the answer. Yet he didn't want to believe it. "We are the ones known to you as Old gods and those of Old Valyria. Many more are known to the world and under different names. For example, you may know as R'hllor." A kind voice explained and sounded like a woman. "You may call me Meraxes or all-mother. The one that spoke to you first is All-father, also known as Balerion, warden of the dead, or the Many-face God."

He swallowed hard when he heard that. "What have I done to deserve this audience of the gods? When I murdered the woman I loved, I left the world still in fear of Others. Also, my own brother, whom I know is actually the Night King, killed me. So why am I here?!! As it seems, I have lost against the darkness." He shouted out the last part.

"Ah, our child of ice and fire, champion of the living. I, Arrax, know your fear for the living as I'm its guardian. You haven't lost yet. We can hopefully give you a chance to prevent the darkness that is about to descend on the world. The children of fire weren't meant to die out prematurely. To fight against the cold, to prepare the realm as it should have been?" Arrax explained. 'Another chance?' He wondered as another voice continued.

"To maintain balance in the world, we sent out our herald, a balance against the influences of the Great other. The first of both your peoples, the first hero Azor Ahai, initiated the bloodlines – one of ice and one of fire. The blood of forty dragon lords descends from fire, drawn to dragons and heat. The Starks, blood of ice, are drawn to direwolves and cold. The Valyrians forgot their original purpose and were destroyed when they searched too deep for what they should not have. Some of their bloodlines escaped due to the dreams we sent to Daenys.

Similarly, we influenced Aegon so he would unite Westeros against the impending storm. This song was referred to as the Song of Ice and Fire. You were meant to be the one who could have sent the Great Other champion back to its prison in the Lands of Always Winter to restart the cycle," Another voice explained, this time a feminine voice.

"May I now speak Tessarion?" A commanding voice said. "Of Vermithor, your help with the last hero work built the prison of Night King after all." The voice, appertianly called Tessarion, answered.

"Thank you. So when Arya Stark killed him, he was supposed to be sent back to his prison. Instead, his essence was sent to the nearest link, and your brother was marked as known. He lured Bran with a vision, a trap – the same vision that allowed Bran to see the Night King, which resulted in your brother being marked. From that moment, your brother was partly influenced by the Night King, although he did not know it. Brandon Stark truly died when the Night King was supposedly destroyed." The voice Vermithor explained. His thoughts were deeply absorbed in this revelation, and came sadness. 'His brother had died some time ago. He had heard what Meera Reed had set to his sister. He died in that gave, ever since he wasn't the same.'

"Your thoughts are accurate. The Night King orchestrated it all. He can now work in the shadows while the winter gripping Westeros gradually consumes it. There will be no one left to stop him. The world will become one of darkness, cold, and death, as the line meant to send him back is no more." Vermithor said sorrowfully.

"There was another problem during the Long Night, including you and Daenerys. The Night King influenced Brandon Stark to reveal your heritage just before the battle, throwing you into a crisis of self-doubt and acceptance. Then there was Daenerys, her inter-image of herself broken by the reveal of your parentage as you were the true heir to the throne. Causing her to fall into the same crisis as you did. Which was partly broke her, as did many other factors." Another feminine voice said. He sucked in a breath when he heard that. 'The Night King had played with him that way, using information he wanted his whole to sow chaos. Killed and used people I love against me.' He thought in despair.

 "Who are you?" He asked as he heard another voice. "I'm Meraxes, the goddess of the heart, love, and birth. I know the pain you feel and the loss of your loved ones. Yet don't worry. You will receive a boon if you choose to accept our charge." Meraxes explained and felt a change in his tormented heart, a lessing of pain. 'Was she healing him or helping to lessen the pain.' He wondered. 'I'm,' Merexes said, speaking into his mind. 'Oh, this mind reading and speaking through it is odd.' He thought. 

"What is the charge you gods wanted me to take up. You already spoke of another chance. What can I do? I'm already dead." He questioned.

"Well, to maintain the order, you will return to a time when Targaryens were at the height of their power. To prevent the beginning of your house's fall and the dragons' death." Another different voice explained. 'I'm Aegarax,' Came into his mind.

"To the time of the Dance of Dragons?" He asked, and Balerion answered him. "Yes, we can see you can make the most impact at that time. Of course, we could sent back when born during this time. Yet that time, especially after the rebellion, is to turmoil. The dance changed what we tried to save. The dragons were all dead, and the Targaryens were a diminished house."

"So, I will never see my family again?" He asked. "Probably not. There might still be a chance that their souls will travel to that new reality with you. Yet not even I, God of the dead, will able to say so." Balerion replied.

"Balerion, if mind, can speak. One more thing to Aemon Targaryen." A feminine voice questioned. "Of course, Shrykos, impart your wisdom. He will need it for the days to come." Balerion replied.

"Aemon Targaryen," Shrykos said firmly, "When you return, you must accept all that you are. You are both Targaryen and Stark—fire and ice combined. Embrace each part in what lies ahead, and perhaps the winds of winter may turn into a dream of spring."

Another voice spoke gravely, "Child of fire and ice, do you accept this? To return, to change the future, and to give life another chance? Remember, this is the last opportunity. Beyond this, we won't have the power to bring you back. We are fading, overshadowed by false idols."

Aemon, clearly shaken, asked, "False gods? Are there false gods in this world?"

A gentle feminine voice interjected, "Perhaps you should explain, Caraxes, before alarming him."

"You're right, Syrax. Forgive me," Caraxes replied. "The Great Other seeks to veil the truth, clouding minds with illusions to make men worship shadows. The Seven Who Are One, the Black Goat, the Storm God, the Stallion Who Mounts the World, and the dark gods of Asshai are all but manifestations of the Great Other's deception. They are not true gods. Only certain powers are untouched by this darkness: the Many-Faced God, the Old Gods, the Valyrian gods, R'hllor, the Drowned God, and the deities of Yi Ti, along with the Moon God of Braavos. For example, Tessarion is worshiped by the Qartheen, though she is known by another name in Qarth. Each of these holds some aspect of our truth in the world. They are real, though they are worshipped differently across lands."

'This game played for thousands of years, and I'm a part of it. Powers, I know no yet never will truly understand.' He thought.

'You still have free will. We are only there to guide and hope life makes the right choice.' Syrax had come into his mind.

'Thank you, I will do my best to do the right thing.' He replied.

Balerion's voice, deeper and more commanding, broke in, breaking out of his thoughts. "Now, champion, will you once again fight for the world of men? Or will you choose the stillness of darkness, allowing all to wither?"

He took a steadying breath and said."I will fight again. As an old foe once said, 'I will be fighting their battles forever.' I will be both Targaryen and Stark, fire and ice, and fight for life—to give it a chance."

With that, the world around him turned to white, and a blinking light appeared before him.

The man formerly known as Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryen emerged into the world. It was the year 92 AC., the second moon, as the first child of Baelon Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Third son of Baelon Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna Stark.

"Damn, where am I?" He said, but it came out as he cried out like an infant. A woman with black-brown raven hair and grey eyes cradled him. He recognized the eyes of Arya and his uncle. Remembering them brought a pang of emotion. 'I will, I ever see them again. The gods weren't so clear.' He thought sadly.

"Lyanna, you've done well. After Aegon, I never thought I'd have another child," a man with silver-blonde hair appeared. His eyes were purple. 'Lyanna?'

"Thank you, Baelon, my love. It seems the little one has your hair and my eyes," The woman, apparently named Lyanna, said. 'It was odd. Could the gods have granted him the blessing of having his mother this time? Meraxes said I would receive a boon. It seemed Rhaegar wouldn't be a part of this life, as he knew Baelon was the second son of King Jaehaerys Targaryen, The Old King. Yet he would honor him all the same, perhaps by learning the harp. As for his other father, Eddard Stark, even if he lied to him about his truth, he still had raised him to be the man he was now. Yet then there was the question: Where were Baelon and his mother married? His thoughts ran through his head, the possibilities.

"Do you have a name in mind, my she-wolf?" Baelon inquired, breaking his thoughts. 'Was he her husband, or was he a bastard? Was he reborn a true bastard this time? Or was Trueborn like last time? He hoped the latter.' He thought as he looked at the man.

"I do, if you're in agreement, my dragon. How about Aemon Targaryen, named after your brother?" His mother suggested, her smile radiant. Baelon nodded and kissed her. 'Thank the gods, he wasn't a bastard, even if he wasn't in his last life. Still, a confront to know he didn't need to go living like one again.' He thought.

"Come now, little Aemon. How about some milk?" His mother asked, bringing her breast to his mouth. 'I suppose I'm a little hungry,' he thought. He felt like he was blushing as he suckled at his mother's breast. It was a weird thing, a twenty and three nameday old man sucking at his mother's breast. Yet, for now, he would live again as a babe. As the son of Baelon Targaryen and Lyanna, he thought contently as he drank the warm milk.

Thus began the rebirth of Aemon Targaryen in the second moon of the year 92 A.C. Inside the dragonpit, a roar awakened all inside.

 Notes: So, what did you all think of the remastered version? I hope it's an improvement over the first version. I know I have learned more over the last year of writing this story, and perhaps I wish to go back to a time when I was still optimistic about House of Dragon instead of pessimistic.

I notice that I now feel a disconnect when I'm writing the current story Legacy of the White Dragon. So, I wanted to see if I could get my drive back when I started rewriting this story. As of now, I feel different than I did before.

Thanks for all the support, and I hope you enjoy this story.

(This chapter might be updated in the future.)

End Note : I wish to formally declare that I hold no ownership over any lines, worldbuilding aspects, or characters derived from the following works: "Game of Thrones," "House of the Dragon" TV show, or the broader "A Song of Ice and Fire" universe.

The credit for the creation of these literary elements rightfully belongs to HBO and George R.R. Martin for their contribution in crafting this rich and immersive world.

The narrative presented herein utilizes elements from these works solely for the purpose of constructing a new story.

I hold the rights solely to the original elements introduced within the context of the story I've created. This includes new characters, plot developments, and any unique narrative elements that are not directly derived from pre-existing works such as "Game of Thrones," "House of the Dragon," or the broader "A Song of Ice and Fire" universe.

Thanks for the read, and don't repost this story. If not given permission.