Author's Note: This is in honor of the Jon Snow spin-off show getting binned (Thank the gods, Old and New, I like HotD but going off of 0 base material is a recipe for disaster) and the release of Shadow of the Erdtree. So here's a different kind of Jon Snow spin-off. Hilariously I have drafts of a similar concept of Jon Snow dying and arriving in the Dark Souls 3 plotline and world from yeeeaarrrss ago when I beat DS3 with a sword and pyromancy build named 'Jon Targaryen'. Could I have had Jon get isekai'd after the end of the series? Sure. But fuck that version of Jon, they crushed my boy's personality. Westeros can freeze. As always I'll try to do a chapter of Curiosity and then 1-3 chapters of miscellaneous other stories per update cycle. I can't guarantee a monthly update cycle with starting a new teaching position in the Fall but I can guarantee the rest of that pattern at least.
Chapter 1: Blood of the Dragons
"Mormont's Torch has returned!"
"The Red Comet is back!"
Cries of surprise echoed through the yards and halls of Castle Black as the differing factions all began to panic to varying degrees.
For the Wildlings it was a sign of mourning. For the rebellious Night's Watch members it was either verification they did the right thing or a possible portent of divine wrath. For the loyalists it was a sign of mourning and a validation to their cause.
Divine wrath ended up being a particularly apt analysis of the situation. For mere moments after it reappeared a lance of red lightning shot down and sundered the roof above where the corpse of the fallen Lord Commander Jon Snow lay.
His loyalist streamed out of the room, smoke rolling out after them. Only Sam tried to beat back the growing flames, but even he eventually had to abandon the room.
Near the entrance Melisandre wailed as the body burned away.
"My Lord! Was that you? Why would you deny yourself a champion?"
The sky roared like a monstrous being as the comet disappeared once more.
"No…no…" The Red Priestess muttered under her breath, "All the dragon gods died with the Fourteen Flames."
Consciousness came strangely to Jon Snow. Darkness and a mental impression of a strange, warm, red glow being all he could sense.
[Blood of the Dragons of Ice and Fire you stir. Valyrsax, progenitor of dragons across all realms, greets thee.]
Attempting to speak, Jon found himself only able to formulate a strange mental scream.
[The space between existence is not for mortals, We fear. We steal you away from a realm where our gifts were unappreciated and bring you to one where this one has gone far too long without a champion. A Sundering has occurred that makes this land ripe for the return of Our Communion. Steal Grace from the misled Tarnished, unite the Gravel Rock children, and let loose Our Lightning of Ice and Fire. Conquer the Great Runes and rip control of the Elden Ring and these lands from the bastard children of the Greater Will. Sever not just the Fingers, but the very Hand itself. You carry the Blood of Gods, Dragon and Old, Scion of Targaryen and Stark. We shall speak once more when you stand over Our former champion's corpse.]
His existence turned red once more and Jon screamed internally until he was suddenly screaming externally.
If the nearby corpse of a soldier had been alive to see the spectacle, he would have seen a bolt of red lightning come down from the sky slamming into the drake corpse and the altar next to it. The corpse was sundered, and as the pieces of its fossilized corpse fell apart, a stone heart fell into the altar's bowl and began to sizzle as blood bubbled up around it.
The blood rose from the altar as if it were a fountain and began to congeal around the calcified heart into the form of a man.
A man who swiftly fell to his knees screaming quite loudly. Only silence in any way for him to pause and cough up copious amounts of blood.
Dried blood also flaked away from his newly formed skin. However, the black viscera still clung all over and he shakily got to his feet and stumbled out of the ruined church and down a hill to a small beach where he knelt in shallow water and frantically began washing the arcane blood off of his new body.
And new it was indeed. Every scar he could remember was cleared. His flesh is smooth and unmarred. However, while smooth and unmarred it was, the same as he was originally born with it was not. His flesh was firm and ungiving, almost stone-like, and a dark dark shade of gray. Near black, not a natural shade he had ever heard of. A shaking hand reached up to feel his face and hair, it didn't feel that different from what he remembered, thankfully, but he shuddered as he felt that echoing voice from before deep in his soul.
[Scion of Targaryen and Stark.]
What in the Seven Hells had that voice been? He questioned internally.
He knew what it said it was, it had said it was essentially the True and Original God of Dragons.
However, that was insane. The gods of Valyria weren't real.
But then again, neither had dragons at all been, or White Walkers. Until he heard news of dragons reborn in the east and had seen a White Walker and their wights himself.
As the incredible pain of…being reborn? Faded, Jon noticed two locations where the pain was decidedly not fading. Scrubbing away the last of the dried blood he saw what almost seemed to be a kind of tattoo across his chest, in the style of Ironborn raiders, Volantene warriors, or Dothraki warlords.
Except it was the dragon from the Targaryen banner, with two key differences. The claws clutched red lightning bolts and it had four wings as opposed to two.
That's it, Jon Snow thought to himself, when I died I was sent to one of the Seven Hells for breaking my oaths. That is the only explanation.
Because on his left hand a similar sigil glowed. Appearing to be a swirling dragon's tail it swirled and pulsed from within with an arcane red light.
Groggily, Jon Snow pulled himself up onto the beach out of the shallow water and sat, allowing himself to dry off and for his head to stop pounding. The pain of the marks faded as well, for the most part. The sigil on his hand still thrummed with a low level of heat and sensation.
He looked down at his naked and changed body and vaguely remembered stumbling past a corpse that was clothed. He wagered there'd be at least something he could do to cover up the important bits with whatever was on that.
What he found was fairly encouraging. Some kind of soldier had died semi-recently. The corpse was dry and desiccated as if it had been siphoned of all its fluids at once, there weren't even wound marks outside of two strange ropes of knotted skin upraised along the neck. Like a noose mark.
He removed a green and red tabard along with the underlying chain mail and padding, a passable helm lay off to the side along with the chain coif, the gauntlets were serviceable, and the greaves equally so. The soldier had died with his arming sword undrawn and his beaten heater shield still slung over his back.
He wasn't precisely Jon's size, but a few minutes of extra fiddling with the straps allowed things to mostly hang comfortably. His left hand twinged and he shook it out, however the pain grew until it suddenly stopped when the red glow began to shine through the joints of the gauntlet.
"You are quite the queer mark, yes?" Jon muttered under his breath to himself as he flexed that hand.
Looking around the ruined church and sighing, the displaced warrior decided he needed to scout out the area a bit. A crumbling section of wall was thick and staggered enough that he was able to walk up it almost like stairs and get a decent enough view of the area from around ten feet up.
The church was on a hill. The hill was on an island. The island had the ocean on one side and a small strait on the other before hitting what seemed to be either a much bigger island or the mainland.
There were also a few blue ethereal floating jellyfish behind the church. Luckily they had not noticed him, as from the descriptions of similar sea creatures carrying poison off the coasts of Dorne, Jon imagined those were the likely source of the corpse he gained his new equipment from.
He rather planned to avoid those.
Backing down he made his way down the opposite side of the hill and island to see if he could find a good shallow fording point.
He did not, he did however find something better. A tunnel leading down into the earth, and from the direction it moved in, Jon guessed that it could possibly lead back over to the mainland.
Now, he thought to himself as he cast about for tinder, some animals to perhaps take the fat from, or similar items. I need a torch.
Character Creation Sheet:
'Jon Snow' or 'Aegon Targaryen'
Origin: Vagabond (Variant)
Appearance: Draconian Type-A
Keepsake: Lesser Dragon Communion Seal (Custom Item, worse scaling than standard DCS)
"Stats"
Level 9:
Vigor- 15
Mind- 10
Endurance- 11
Strength- 12
Dexterity- 12
Intelligence- 8
Faith- 10
Arcane- 10
HP- 522
FP- 78
Stamina- 97
These are generalizations to give an idea of Jon's starting point, this is not a Gamer fic.
Starting Gear:
Godrick's Soldier Set, Lordsworn's Straight Sword, Heater Shield
Starting Incantations:
Dragonclaw (cannot cast due to requirements), Catch Flame, Urgent Heal