8th Fifth Moon 2...

  It was a dreary day in September, the clouds darkened with the beginnings of a storm. Rain battered against the windows of my small abode as the wind made the walls creak yet they still stood strong. It wasn't an unusual occurrence England was well known for it's poor weather, even if such renown was overexaggerated at times. I remember waking to the incessant beeping of my alarm, it was around seven, the sun was just beginning to rise though the storm masked the majority of it's light. I lingered in bed for longer than I needed to, after I had no need to wake up truly. Economic crisis after crisis had left the job market in a downwards spiral towards the maws of oblivion, so I had no employment to go to my days were free and empty. To some that may sound like a dream come true, it's not as if money was an issue the inheritance from my father covered that, what pained me was the monotony. I remember having barely the energy to take care of my base needs let alone socialise with others or leave the house. Simply put life had lost it's lustre, if it ever truly had any.

  I am a child of winter in both of my lives, born during a blizzard in the first and unnatural cold in the second. I find it funny to be born into the House of Fire, I am under no delusion of being Azor Ahai reborn or anything like it though. I had originally planned to head east as soon as possible yet now... I will go to The North first. Past Winterfell, past The Wall and beyond that. I intend to go to past it all to the heart of winter itself. First I have to research and make precautions in regards to the Others. Perhaps they won't attack a fellow dead man? We shall see.

  Eventually I clambered out of bed and ready myself for that grim day ahead. I broke my fast on a rather plain bowel of cereal, to compensate for this I allowed myself to add the slightest touch of honey. I don't remember it's been far too long for such specific details, perhaps it was sweet or maybe as bitter as the cold that day.

  I spent the rest of that morning simply reading 'The King in Yellow' around noon the storm appeared to have cleared, so I decided perhaps a walk would do me some good. And so I did walk around the local neighbourhood, then it happened.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  In less than a few seconds clear sun was consumed by darkness. Clouds of black choked the sky like a thick blanket of smog and the rain pelted down as a sudden thunderous storm appeared like magic. It came with a ferocity I had never seen before, the wind tore at loose objects wrenching bins from where they sat and causing the trees to sway violently. Then I heard it, death itself, a crackle of thunder echoed in the sky and then a flash of white... after that nothing. I believe I was struck by lightning and that's what ended my first life. Whether this was a natural storm or not I don't know in the end does it matter anymore?

  I'm not sure how long I spent floating in the void minutes, months or even years? I suppose time has little meaning in the place of nothingness.

  Then it happened, light and a sudden pain. It hurt to breathe and all the return of all my senses was well overwhelming, no wonder infants cry when your first breathes are pure agony until the brain adjusts. It was awful... a horrible experience I never wish to repeat, I'm glad true consciousness doesn't form in regular people until much later on.

  To be helpless and immobile it's a vile... utterly vile thing I hated it with all my being. Of course the family I had been born to didn't help, the first time I saw Aerys I felt utter terror at that. Now I see him for what he is, I am not scared of the lunatic and he'll die as he's destined to, if not on Jaimie Lannister's sword... well I'm sure I can arrange something.

  Looking in the mirror nowadays, I can barely recognise myself from my previous life.. well not like I would ever. Yet my appearance differs from the typical Valyrian features perhaps these years of more foul magics have left their mark? My eyes once the typical Targaryen violent are closer to twilight. They have darkened to such a deep purple it borders on black. This doesn't help the rumours surrounding me and my supposed connection to the Stranger, not that servants are necessarily wrong after... what I plan to do. My hair now falls past my shoulders, I've taken to simply leaving it untied, strands and patches of once silver-blonde hair have turned black. Mother was the first to truly notice but she never commented on it though I don't know why.

  I stand taller than Rhaegar now but I'm not as well built as him, I'm far more spindly no doubt due to my neglect of more martial pursuits. The blood of Valyria still flows strong enough I have the stereotypical high cheekbones, fine features, the usual superficial beauty of the dragonlords. Though my face is far more angular? I suppose would be the correct term. Either way appearance wise this body is superior to my old one.

  Fourteen years old and I'm already marked by magic... though with what I intend to do, well we'll have to wait and see.