The Grey Dragon [ASOIAF]

[ketan1578]

Earth of Legends

As I walked down the street with my eyes closed, listening to music without a care in the world, not a minute had passed before I opened my eyes and saw people running away from me. I unplugged my IcePods from my ears and heard a man shouting directly at me, "Truck!"—and that was the last thing I heard. After that, the man slowed down, and I began to fly forward.

Wait but I can't fly. I am human. I shouldn't be able to fly, they said. Then came the searing pain, like I couldn't even say which part was hurting and which wasn't, because my whole body hurt like no tomorrow. What the hell happened to me? Did someone toss drugs into the air, and I took a whiff of it? Because my friends told me that when you take drugs you feel like you're in the clouds. But the fuckers didn't mention the pain, liars, all of them. I should burn them all.

[AN: Another Aerys is what House Targaryen needs to reclaim their throne.]

Ah, now I feel like closing my eyes would provide me great relief and take all my burdens away. And I did just that. After some time, my pain faded away and I felt very light. It sure does feel like you're in the clouds. Not that I know how one feels when one is in the clouds. But there is something weird about this whole situation. Don't drugs affect your mind and take away your ability to think straight temporarily? Ah, yes, I had always known that my mental power is greater than others. But what I didn't know was that it would negate the effect drugs have on my mind.

I am special, aren't I? I've always been aware of it. However, convincing my parents and older brother of this fact is always a challenge. It's understandable since I've never showcased my talents and superior skills to them. My parents don't require me to be special since my brother looks after us. He's intelligent, though not as much as I am, but still smart. He became a millionaire at the age of twenty-five, which grants me the liberty to pursue my desires. A lack of freedom has never been an issue for me.

And I had taken full advantage of this freedom by reading the divine texts that some peasants call fanfic. Uncultured, all of them. However, even with all the flaws, and I admit there are only a few of them- I didn't do anything that would shame my family. I've completed my studies and was an above-average student in my class. I've done all they've asked of me, and today is the day I'm going to my first interview for my job.

As I sifted through my thoughts, it felt as though someone was tugging at my very essence, as if someone were plucking the soul out of my body. Despite my initial resistance, which was met with no success, I awaited an event that could elucidate who was pulling me. Soon after, a blinding light emerged.

Armed with wisdom from sacred texts, I instantly discerned the direction this situation was taking. I braced myself for the wishes that would be granted to me. However, I couldn't help but frown as the blinding light seemed to generate even more brilliance in anticipation of its arrival.

"I heard that, mortal. Doesn't the entry of light look cool?" inquired the light.

"Absolutely, if I were my grandfather's age, I'd have glittering, starry anime eyes right now," I replied.

"Hmm, it seems I must draw inspiration from sacred texts. That will have to wait for now. I've summoned you here because, as a fellow reader of sacred texts, I wish to transmigrate you to another world, partly for my own amusement," declared the entity now known as ROB.

"How can I be certain that it's not merely my delusions or imagination?" I inquired. Immediately after the question, I began to envision my demise. Indeed, it seems 'Truck-kun' is not limited to Japan alone.

"So, what's the procedure? Do I just state my three wishes and choose a destination, and then what happens?" I asked.

"You will not receive three wishes, but just one, and I will decide your destination. To make it more intriguing, you will receive a gift from me. Before you inquire about your destination, know that you will be transmigrated into Jon Snow at the moment he awakens after being stabbed by his Night's Watch brothers. And this universe will be entirely different from any you have known before," replied ROB.

His words made me feel sad. I longed to visit the DXD world and meet Azazel to study sacred gears, which doesn't seem like too much to ask. However, I'll accept what I receive, as it's not as if he chose a world that begins with 'B' and ends with 'O'. We refrain from saying its name because doing so might make you resemble the main character in that world.

"I desire the ultimate support system that functions like AI, possessing all knowledge of both modern and mystical realms, complete with magic," I stated.

"I will grant you magic. But in turn, I will take away your ability to use most magic that isn't from your world," replied ROB. Ahm-hmm, that won't do. ASOIAF world magic isn't much, and I don't know jackshit about it.

"Let's make a compromise. Instead of acquiring all magical and modern knowledge, I would gain complete understanding of rituals and the ability to alter the components required for them. This is because I wouldn't be able to find everything needed from the GOT universe," I attempted to bargain.

"Okay, the information will be transferred into the system, and as for the gift, it's yours if you can acquire it," ROB replied.

Before I could ask him what he meant, I felt as if I'd been thrown into Antarctica, only to be yanked out once it was deemed sufficient and hurled into a volcano. As I pondered my predicament, my entire body shuddered. I sensed a stare piercing through me, and I instinctively knew that meeting its gaze would be a grave mistake. Then, something interposed itself between me and the malevolent presence. A sigh of relief escaped me, for I understood it was the protection granted by ROB.

I don't even want to discuss that matter. I have an idea of what or who it was. Following that event, I began to recall memories of Jon. They include his childhood in Winterfell, joyful times with his siblings, his initial experience wielding a wooden sword, and ultimately, his last memory: seeing Olly's face and wondering 'why' as the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch lay bleeding in the snow.

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open and I took a deep breath. As I became aware of my surroundings, I quickly tried to rise, but a thought struck me. The fire didn't burn me. In fact, I felt comfortable amidst the flames. Puzzled, I stood up, contemplating the various things that could have granted me immunity to fire, certain that Jon lacks this ability.

I emerged from my own pyre. Around the blazing pyre, a crowd had gathered. To see characters that you've only seen on TV or read about in books is certainly a unique experience. There stood Ser Davos, Tormund, Melisandre, Edd, many wildlings, and giants. My gaze lingered on the giants for a moment before recognizing familiar faces and registering them in my mind. However, the expressions on their faces were something else entirely. They varied from shock, bafflement, and relief to devotion, happiness, and reverence. Some even looked ready to kneel and proclaim me a god.

"It's quite chilly out here, you know. A few garments would certainly keep me warm while you all gaze on," I remarked. As I spoke, Ser Davos snapped out of his stunned state and offered me his heavy cloak. Once cloaked, I turned to see Ser Davos' face, brimming with questions.

"Let's get you to your room before you freeze," Ser Davos said, a smile gracing his face.

As we approached Castle Black, a white blur came hurtling towards me. I was still reeling from everything that was happening, unsure of what to tell them. The blur caught me off guard, and I lost my balance on the snowy ground beneath me. Although I wasn't injured, the snow's direct contact with my skin left a burning sensation. However, the culprit of my fall seemed oblivious to my plight and began to lick my face.

"I missed you too, Ghost," I said with a smile; I was always a dog person. Once done likcing every bit of ash and soot, Ghost began to move aside, allowing me to stand up and regain my composure. I began to scratch him behind his ears, eliciting joyful purrs as his expression reflected pure contentment. After a few more moments of affection, we continued our journey to the room.

As we approached the room, I realized that none of the people who came with me had any intention of stopping. "Do you all want to see me as I change clothes?" I inquired, and their response was instantaneous. Some, like Ser Davos, appeared embarrassed, having not considered that aspect.

"We're right here. Call us when you're ready," came the reply from Edd. He looked at me with a mix of suspicion and relief. I think he was torn between being happy that his friend had returned from the dead and being suspicious because of our situation.

Omni POV

The gift that ROB has given Jon is now emerging from the waters onto the shore. Upon reaching land, it appears confused and emits a high-pitched shriek, enough to frighten anyone present on the island.

It's a massive and fearsome dragon with a distinctive, imposing appearance. It features a deep red coloration with a series of dark, almost blood-like veins running through its scales, highlighting its fierce and aggressive nature. It has a somewhat elongated and serpentine body with large, bat-like wings that look well-suited for aerial combat.

Now, what we have to see is how Jon Snow will react to his gift.
Third-Person POV

Jon, finished dressing, decided it was time to open the doors and let the others waiting outside enter before they knocked the hinges off to get the answers they thought he owed them. He had thought about what to tell them regarding the change in behavior they would see in the coming days, and during this very talk. But to hell with giving them answers. He was not the Jon Snow who was honorable and brooding. The old Jon's memories might leave traces of his personality, but as he had read in the sacred texts, the transmigrator's personality is the dominant one in the body.

Jon opened the chamber doors, and everyone standing outside immediately started filing in. There were not many of them—only Jon's closest advisors and friends, with the new addition of Melisandre. Jon had to admit that the actress in the series had not done justice to her beauty; in person, she was even more striking. Then he caught sight of the choker at her throat, and that was enough to stop his thoughts from wandering anywhere related to her. Jon closed the doors and took his seat by the hearth.

Jon knew everyone was looking at him like he was a mystery to be solved. They wanted to ask someone, anyone, how the man before them was still alive. "I don't know what the others want to know. But I would like to ask what you saw... after, you know?" Ser Davos asked awkwardly, carefully avoiding any mention of the black brothers' betrayal.

"I have seen many things, Ser Davos. Or they were shown to me on purpose, to tell me why I was given a second chance. I do not think it wise to tell you everything right now, but with time you will see what I have been shown." Jon said this while looking directly into Davos's eyes. Hearing the tone and the words, Davos understood that Jon's return from death had changed the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch.

The others in the room came to the same conclusion as Davos, though their reactions differed. Edd, Jon's closest friend, frowned. He thought his own lack of competence had caused Jon's death and ultimately led them here. Tormund, who was confused by what Jon had said, didn't care, as long as the King of Crows was alive and on the side of the living. Melisandre's expression differed from everyone else's: when she heard Jon say he had been shown many things, it only strengthened her belief that he was the Prince That Was Promised, and that her god had shown him his purpose.

"Did you catch a glimpse of the Lord of Light, the one true God?" Melisandre asked, with the fervent expression you would expect of a fanatic.

Jon weighed what to tell her. He had two choices: say that only the Old Gods had given him back his life, or say that there was more than one god, and that they were working together to keep death from winning over the living. He decided on the latter, as it would give him an excuse to offer others when he displayed the powers he would gain in the future through rituals.

"Aye, there is a Lord of Light," Jon replied, "but make no mistake, priestess, your god is not the only one I met out there." Hearing him, Melisandre's eyes burned with even more faith and reverence. Davos grumbled something no one caught.

The first to notice something different was Edd, who had been silent until that moment. "Jon," he started, "your eyes aren't brown anymore." As soon as he said it, everyone turned toward Jon. There was no mirror in the room, so Jon could not see for himself; he looked back at them with an expectant gaze. "They're purple now," Edd concluded.

"What does that mean?" Ser Davos asked Melisandre, who was also studying Jon's eyes with curiosity.

Noticing Davos's stare, she turned to him and replied, "As I told you before, I have never done this before, so I cannot answer your question."

Everyone was curious and slightly frightened by the sudden change in Jon's eye color, given the blue-eyed freaks lurking North. But the man in question was lost in his own thoughts, thinking that it seemed he would have more than fire resistance from the Targaryen side of his family. Watching the heavy silence settle over the chamber, Jon decided it was time for everyone to leave and for him to get some rest; the influx of memories had left him fatigued, with a light headache. "I think I need some rest. So if you have anything to ask..." At his words, everyone started to stand and leave. The first to go was Melisandre, who bowed to him before taking her leave.

Tormund was the second to go, after repeating the same line he had said in the series to make Jon smile. Ser Davos followed him once he saw that Jon was fine and needed rest. Edd, the only one left, stared at Jon for a few minutes before telling him that the traitors responsible for his death were in prison and would face judgment at his hand whenever he was ready. After hugging Jon, he too took his leave. Now only Jon and Ghost, who lay in the corner, remained in the chamber. After petting Ghost a few times, Jon decided it was time for a nap, before he took the lives of four people just after arriving in this new world.

---

Jon Snow POV

I woke to a ding in my head, and after opening my eyes, I looked around to see whether my system would have a screen interface or whether it would only be a voice in my head.

[You can ask me directly, Host. I was created solely to help you. If you are wondering whether I have a function or interface that displays your stats, I apologize for any disappointment, but I do not have that capability. However, I can assist with calculations based on what you know about others, and make comparisons between you and them to help you understand your progress.]

The voice in my head was female, but it carried no emotion; her tone was entirely monotonous. "So you're the same as the AI back in my world? Or are there any other functions I should know about beforehand?" I asked the system in my mind.

[Yes, I am like the AI back in your world, made to help you in any way I can. The being that sent you here created me because you requested so much information that you could not use it effectively. I also have access to the memories of your previous world, even things you may have forgotten or considered inconsequential.]

Hearing that she could remember everything I had ever known in my previous life brought a triumphant smile to my face. I hadn't done anything important back in my world—I'd just watched everything on the internet that piqued my interest—but even mundane knowledge could take me a long way in this one. That wasn't the system's main purpose, though. And there was something I should do before we discussed rituals. "So, I get to give you a name, right? I don't want to call you 'system' or 'AI.' Let me think... Athena... no, that's overused. What do you think about the name 'Aether'? Do you like it?"

[Thank you, Host. I like it very much.]

With that settled, it was time to get to the task at hand. I believed I had chosen a good time to ask Aether which ritual would be best for me, a novice in all the mystical arts. Having thought about rituals the moment I woke up here, I had determined there was one thing I would acquire, one way or another. "Aether, the first task is for you to find the ritual that would benefit me most, given the situation I'll find myself in. And please add acquiring Parseltongue as a long-term goal, which will be my priority after I'm done with Ramsay Bolton."

[There are many rituals you could benefit from, but taking into account the ingredients you have access to narrows it down to a few. Before that, I would like to know which aspect you would like to enhance: magic or your physique? I have also started to analyze and calculate how you can gain abilities like Parseltongue with the resources you will have after defeating Ramsay. After hearing your decision, I will send you information about the ritual.]

*****D*****T*****

Jon, alone on his horse, made his way toward the Grove North of Castle Black. It was a half-league journey into the haunted forest, where a rough circle of nine weirwood heart trees stood tall. This grove held nearly everything Jon needed for the ritual he intended to perform. After much contemplation, he knew he must embrace magic—the allure of mystical abilities was too strong to resist.

As he rode, his mind raced with thoughts of Rickon. Jon refused to let any member of House Stark fall while he could intervene. It was his way of repaying the countless acts of kindness the Starks had shown him. He wrestled with a decision: allow Rickon to perish and seize the mantle of King in the North, or protect him and enable his rise to power. But should he choose the latter, why not just go for more and claim the Seven Kingdoms?

Upon arriving at the sacred grove, Jon snapped back to reality. Dismounting his horse, he approached the heart tree, offering a prayer to the Old Gods before beginning his work. He then set about gathering fallen leaves and branches of the weirwoods, searching for a stone to grind the components for his ritual.

Just as he was about to start grinding, he heard a dragging sound from behind him. Instinctively, his hand moved toward the pommel of Longclaw. However, what he saw brought a chuckle to his lips. Ghost, his loyal direwolf, had returned from the hunt, clutching a freshly killed deer in his jaws. With a satisfied thud, Ghost dropped the carcass at Jon's feet, his red eyes gleaming with a question: "Anything else?"

Jon ran his fingers through Ghost's fur, giving him well-deserved pets and scratches. "Good boy... and I apologize in advance," he muttered, his tone dripping with guilt. Ghost tilted his head, clearly puzzled, but his confusion turned into betrayal the moment Jon yanked a tuft of fur from his thick coat. The direwolf yelped, leaping back with wide, accusing eyes and a low, indignant howl.

"I'm sorry, my boy, but it's for the greater good," Jon said, holding up the fur like it was some grand trophy.

Ghost's ears flattened, his expression twisting into one of pure outrage. With a dramatic huff, he bolted deeper into the forest, howling like the world was ending. Jon groaned, running a hand down his face. "He's never going to let this go." He cast one last glance toward the trees where Ghost had disappeared, his mournful cries fading into the distance. "Drama queen," Jon muttered under his breath before turning back to the task at hand.

At least the ingredients were ready. He knelt beside the makeshift altar, pulling out a simple wooden bowl and the dagger Sam had given him. With practiced precision, Jon began to grind the leaves, branches, and shards of dragonglass into a thick, fibrous pulp. Satisfied with the base, Jon reached for the carcass of the deer Ghost had hunted earlier. He carefully drained the last remnants of its blood into the mixture, darkening it into a rich crimson paste.

Aether's voice echoed in his mind. "Now add the fur." Jon, without a second thought, did as instructed, sprinkling Ghost's fur into the bowl. As soon as the fur touched the mixture, it began to shift, rippling unnaturally as the ingredients reacted.

After a few minutes, the mixture began to transform into a thick liquid that resembled blood more than anything else. Jon stood up and started to pour small drops of the liquid he had created into the roots of the nine weirwood trees. Once he was finished, he dug a small hole near the heart tree that could fit a bowl, placed the bowl there, and took off his boots to meditate barefoot at the base of the tree for an hour or more, as instructed by Aether. Aether guided him in his mind, teaching him how to calm his turbulent thoughts and clear his mind for meditation.

Time seemed to fly as Jon entered his meditative state. Slowly, the liquid he had placed near the heart tree began to change as well. Thin veins of milky-white streaks started to thread through the mixture, resembling the weirwood's iconic color pattern—red, blood-like sap within pale amidst it. The liquid took on a slightly viscous consistency, akin to tree resin, while retaining an almost luminescent sheen that hinted at its unnatural potency. The drops he had poured at the roots soaked in unnaturally quickly, leaving faint red stains on the wood and earth.

Suddenly, the weirwood trees began to rustle without any wind, and Jon opened his eyes to see the final product before him. He smiled, picked up the bowl, and without a second thought, poured the sap into his mouth, gulping it down in one go. Although the sap tasted like dirt and leaves, he focused on not minding the unpleasant taste. Just as he was about to ask Aether if the sap had worked, he found himself entering a trance-like state. In the next moment, his eyes glazed over white, and his body dropped into the snow like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

For Jon, the experience was entirely different. One moment, he was in his own body, familiar with his senses, and the next, he found himself in the body of Ghost. Instantly, he realized that his senses were magnified multiple times. He could see the world from a different perspective and feel sensations he couldn't before. While the cold had always bothered him to some extent in his human body, it now felt like his home—intense yet invigorating. If anyone were to ask Jon how he would describe this feeling simply, he would say it was like driving a car in his world, but the difference was that he could feel everything that the animal, whose body he had warged into, experienced.

At first, when Jon commanded Ghost, he resisted, expressing anger at Jon for attacking his fur without consent. However, after a few apologies, Ghost reluctantly began to follow Jon's commands. Over time, Jon started to enjoy the experience. Yet, he eventually felt a pull that signaled it was time for him to return to his body. Though he didn't want to lose the exhilarating sensation of living under the skin of Ghost, he sensed that he should leave before the idea of departing became too difficult.

Jon returned to his body, took a deep breath, and stood up from the snow where he had been lying. After dusting off the snow from his leathers, he realized he should leave before dawn, as his brothers in the Night's Watch would start worrying about him. He decided to take the corpse of the deer with him, knowing that food was scarce and this deer could provide a substantial feast for his black brothers in dire circumstances.

Castle Black

After reassuring Edd, who had received word from Alastor, the black brother on duty guarding the gate, Jon found himself being berated for his usual foolish ideas. Once he reached his chambers in Castle Black, he lay down on his bed to rest before the sun was set to rise.

Now Jon sat by the hearth, waiting for word to come down permitting him to kill the one who had stabbed the brooding Jon to death. He stared into the flames, then slowly placed his hand, marked by burn scars, into the fire. Just like that, he realized that since awakening in this world, he had gained an ability similar to what Daenerys was known for: being unburnt. Jon the Unburnt. It had a nice ring to it, didn't it? He might just ask Ser Davos about it.

A knock at the chamber doors pulled him from his thoughts. After withdrawing his hand from the flames, he called for the person outside to come in. Edd peeked his head in and said, "Jon, black brothers and Free Folk are waiting. Are you ready?"

Jon stood up, gripping Longclaw firmly, and began walking toward the place where Olly and the others stood with ropes around their necks.

With Caraxes

Caraxes had been brought back to life, much like Jon Snow in the North, and was confused about his current situation. Though he was unaware of how much time had passed since his death, he knew one thing: his rider, Daemon, was gone. Now, Caraxes found himself without a rider to accompany him in the sky. He disliked this feeling; he cherished the old days when he and Daemon spread chaos and fear wherever they went. With that thought in mind, he decided it was time to find a new rider worthy of his companionship.

Additionally, since his return to this small island, he felt a strange pull from the North urging him onward. However, before heading to the North, he had one important task to attend to—taking a nap. Having just eaten, Caraxes preferred to sleep afterward. So, the infamous Blood Wyrm coiled his long, serpentine body and began to snore. The journey to the North would be long, so it was wise to rest first.