Wolf in Lion's Clothing
Chapter 1: The Returning
The God's Eye was the most peaceful place Jaeharys Targaryen III, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, The Resurrected, Former 998th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, The White Wolf, The Song of Ice and Fire, had ever been in. Not even Winterfell, in the days where he was still called Jon Snow, had touched him as deep as this island in the middle of the Riverlands. Here, the Old Gods were watching.
He looked over to his cousin, the Lady Sansa Stark, her fiery red hair flowing over her naked body. He doubted that she was as peace here thanks to her penchant for worshipping the Seven-Who-Are-One rather than the gods of her father. Stepping out of the tent where some green man once laid his head to rest he looked over the meager amount of men he had brought to this island.
He had received no letters from the houses in the southern Reach or Dorne. He doubted they would come to his aid right now. Not when Euron Greyjoy's abominations had overrun Old Town and were now causing havoc in the Reach. He grimaced, 'I hope Ned is ok'. The latest legendary incarnation of the Dayne Swordsman "The Sword in the Morning", Edric Dayne was rallying what forces he could muster from the Dornish Lords. After that he would try to take back the Reach from the eldritch abominations that the Iron King had unleashed before supporting the forces of the living in pushing back the Winter.
But that plan was not to be.
Losing the War for the Dawn started when the Dead had put Winterfell under siege and continued their march south unopposed. The Crannogmen put up a courageous fight, bogging down the dead but to no avail. There is no doubt that Lord Howland Reed's last stand would be a great tale told through song should bards continue to exist but with the North overrun, the South started to bleed.
15,000 warriors of the living from the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands had gathered under the Targaryen King's Banner, hoping to slow the Dead by harassing their forces coming out of the neck in hopes of receiving reinforcements from the South and Essos. 12,000 had died within 2 weeks.
The Defiance at the Twins saw Lord Olyvar Frey and the remnants of his House bravely hold the forces of the Night King back for 3 Days and 3 Nights allowing the Targaryen host to march South to Riverrun where Lord Edmure Tully had gathered another 5,000 Rivermen and 15,000 Westermen under the commands of Houses Lefford, Marbrand, Crakehall and Lannister.
What followed was the titanic 2nd Battle of the Trident where King Jaeharys Targaryen defied the Night King in single combat on the spot his own Father had been killed. While being able to injure the Night King, the Dragon King could not finish him and had been forced to retreat. With only 2,000 men left, the Living Host marched through heavy snows to reach Harrenhall. Without food and supplies, the army had rejoiced at the reinforcements that had arrived from the Stormlands, under the command of Lord Davos Seaworth, Hand to the King. Bolstered by the might of 10,000 Stormlanders, The King rushed to engage the Night King's expeditionary forces to the west and engaged again the main body of the army of the Dead.
Without a true battle plan the King rushed the Night King and his entourage, slaying 3 White Walkers in rapid succession. His Kingsguard, led by Lord Commander Jaime Lannister "the Kingslayer" were all killed and the Targaryen King was forced to retreat from the battle, having had his left arm cut off by his undead opponent. "The Panic at the Trident" left more than 9,000 more troops and the largest living army left was reduced to merely 2,500 men.
The living host, without any real military structure left, had to turn to their King's lover, his cousin Sansa Stark, who ordered the retreat to Harrenhall once more, and after that to the God's Eye. It was there where the last living Targaryen King sat reviewing the events of the past year in his head.
"Well you look like shite."
Turning around he saw Ser Justin Massey, the Red God fanatic who had fought for Stannis Baratheon until his bitter end.
"Ser Justin" Jon greeted him. "How are you?"
"I was just wondering your Grace, if Stannis hadn't died. I wonder where we'd be?" the knight asked bluntly sitting down a meter away from the king.
"He'd be King, I'd be Lord Commander of the Night's Watch or at least what's left of it, and we might just be in a better position." Jon told him the truth, or at the very least what he truly thought. Seeing the One True King kill a resurrected Ice Dragon while wielding a flaming sword was perhaps the most glorious sight the Targaryen King had ever seen. It had certainly immortalized Stannis Baratheon as a hero.
"Aye we might just be. But I was surprised when he decided to name you his heir. Then when I asked him why, he grinded his teeth and said 'Jaeharys Targaryen is the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he is lawfully King should I die'. I could tell he hated the fact that you were the reason his daughter died but he had to follow the laws of the realm."
It still hurt Jon to know that the red priestess had to sacrifice the princess Shireen in order to resurrect him. Killing her alongside Ser Alliser Thorne had felt just but he knew if would never bring back the innocent girl who died so that he could live again.
Seeing that the King would remain silent the knight of House Massey stood up and walked off.
He was left alone then. Until he heard the wing flaps of a Raven.
Staring at the bird led the king to realize that his cousin Brandon was summoning him. He knew Bran had taken to sitting by the large wierwood tree at the center of the isle, with the Children of the Forest who had lived here for thousands of years.
He shook his head. Legends and Magic. There was a reason this place was made sacrosanct by Lords and Kings from even before the Conquest.
Arriving at the center of the island he saw a large round table, with a swirling pattern of green and red paste upon it. Bran, who was waiting for him at the foot of the table, quickly motioned him over.
"Jon. I have a plan. We send you back in time."
This all led to the current moment. There he was lying naked on a marble table, with a Child of the Forest hovering over him with a wierwood knife.
There was no time for goodbyes. The Night King's advance troops were already attacking the defensive perimeter of the island. He only hoped that Ser Justin would hold them as long as possible. He hoped Edric would come to relieve them. He hoped Sansa would forgive him for leaving her. He hoped he could change things.
"Whoever you become. It's someone important enough to change things. Someone you need to use to make sure the realm is ready for this conflict." Bran gave him a last minute reminder. "The Realm is counting on you. Good Luck Jon."
And with that his chest erupted in pain. Then his whole body did. More pain than when the Night King cut off his arm at the shoulder. More pain than he had ever felt in the world and yet he could not scream.
And then it was over. He was standing now. He felt different. His chest was heaver, so was his rear. His frame felt lighter as a whole though. 'Whose body did I take?'
Opening his eyes he came face to face with the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms. Seeing Cersei Lannister in front of him made him want to jump, knowing that she was a vindictive and cruel woman from when Sansa would talk about her experiences in King's Landing.
'What if I'm in King Robert or something? I can't just react that way. I'll greet her."
"Your grace-" he cut himself off. Cersei had said it as well. Odd.
That's when he realized that he was standing in front of a mirror.
"I'm Cersei"