Game of Thrones: The Dragon Duel

POV: Aerys II Targaryen (263 AC)

Sitting on the cold iron throne, I struggled once again with the excruciating headache that had plagued me since the beginning of the year. Despite all of Grand Maester Pycelle's efforts, no relief had come. All he did was waste my time. And now, as he bursts into the throne room with a face twisted with excitement, I am seized by thoughts of making him suffer as I do. Perhaps then this worm would become more useful.

"Your Grace, a miracle has occurred," his cheerful tone only served to irritate me further.

"Speak."

"The dragon egg of Prince Rhaegar has finally hatched!" he replies breathlessly, and I am stunned, momentarily forgetting the headache and all other troubles.

After the famed Dance of the Dragons, these powerful creatures disappeared, and all of Aegon III's efforts to restore their population had failed. Though the chance was slim, I had also resolved to try to restore our house's legacy—the dragons.

Unfortunately, all my attempts and efforts had failed. No matter what I did or how many records I read, nothing worked in awakening the magical beasts. My last hope was my son Rhaegar. According to the ancient Targaryen tradition, I placed a dragon egg in his cradle. Three years had passed since his birth, but there had been no result. No matter how fascinated my boy was with the dragon egg, it refused to hatch. But now…

"Are you sure?!" I ask the maester excitedly.

"Of course, Your Grace. But that's not all: Queen Rhaella will have another child."

This news also shocked me. Just last year, Rhaella had suffered a miscarriage, which had inevitably affected her morale. To be honest, I was also devastated by the news. Perhaps that's why my headaches started. But now things would be different. I cannot lose another child, not when our house is on the brink of restoring the dragons and rising above all others. Perhaps placing another egg in the cradle might awaken a second dragon, if only our child survives. With so many thoughts crowding my mind, my blood begins to boil once more.

"You must ensure that my child is well. If you fail, you will answer with your life, Pycelle," I warn him, and I see a primal fear in his eyes.

"Y-yes, Your Grace."

(264 AC)

Hearing the heart-wrenching cries of my wife, I tried to calm myself, but it was futile. Moving back and forth from one end of the corridor to the other, I couldn't bring myself to enter her chambers. The loss of our second child weighed heavily on me.

In an attempt to distract myself, I turned my gaze to my eldest Rhaegar, who was sitting calmly on the floor, playing with a red dragon that had grown to the size of a stag in less than a year.

Truly amazing creatures! Even as a mere infant, Balerion already instills fear in the servants and some knights. As for his name, after Rhaegar had listened to tales of Aegon the Conqueror, he decided to emulate his famous ancestor and take on the name of the Black Dread.

"Your Grace, all went well! You have another healthy boy!" Pycelle, looking tired but happy, bursts in.

"Move aside!" I say, pushing him aside, and enter, where I am once again met with a remarkable sight: an exhausted Rhaella holds our child in her arms, her eyes filled with boundless love.

"How are you?" I ask, stepping closer.

"I am well now," she replies, trying to smile. I then turn my gaze to the maester, who answers in a panic:

"The Queen is fine, Your Grace. The main thing is to give her a few days of rest."

"Understood."

"He has our eyes, Father," I hear Rhaegar's quiet voice as he approaches the bed. Looking at the infant, I immediately notice his bright, gem-like violet eyes.

"A true dragon," I whisper, turning to the servants and commanding: "Place the dragon egg I personally selected for him in my son's cradle."

"Yes, Your Grace!"

"Aerys," I hear a weary female voice, "what shall we name him?"

"Our son will be named Aeryon Targaryen."

"Aeryon," Rhaella whispers with love and tenderness.

I left the chamber, leaving Rhaella to rest, and headed to my study. Thoughts of the future overwhelmed me. The return of the dragons and the birth of a second son—these were signs of a new era for House Targaryen. I would not allow anyone or anything to stand in the way of our ascension. But one thing still troubled me... why not me?! Was I, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, not worthy of being the one to restore our house's greatness?! Moreover, if Aeryon fails to awaken his dragon, Rhaegar's power and influence will reach unprecedented heights, and what if in the future he wants...

Shaking my head sharply, I tried to rid myself of such thoughts. Rhaegar, like Aeryon, is my son. If I cannot even trust my own heir, what kind of king am I? What kind of father?

The following days were fairly joyful. According to Pycelle, the health of both Rhaella and Aeryon was only improving, and there were no reasons for concern. My thoughts were interrupted by a guard's voice:

"Your Grace, the master of whisperers has arrived."

"Let him in," I command the knight, who immediately complies. The door opens to reveal a portly, bald man, though it hardly seems right to call him a man. With an involuntary smile, I greet him:

"Varys, have you done all I instructed?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Preparations for the tournament in honor of your son are well underway. My little birds also bring me new information, most of it concerning the second prince."

"Aeryon? The boy has just been born, and already everyone is talking about him... what are they saying?"

"The common people have begun to associate the prince's conception with the rebirth of dragons. Many are starting to seriously believe he is the chosen one of the Seven," Varys replies courteously.

What fools. Though it might work in our favor. Too much attention had been given to Rhaegar. Not a single person had missed the opportunity to hail the boy as a prodigy. Such adulation could go to the head of any lord or knight, let alone a child. But with the arrival of his brother, the glory should be divided.

"Well, I will think about what needs to be done, but for now let's deal with more pressing matters."

"Yes, Your Grace."