Chapter 1

85 AC, Kings Landing

Baelon paced outside of the doors to the apartment with impatience, the noise of his boots echoing in the hallways of Maegor's Holdfast.

It hadn't even been six moons since Alyssa…

His fists clenched tightly, the sounds of his leather gloves creaked under the strain and it rang in his ears. He breathed out slowly even as he continued to pace albeit slower.

To lose him so soon after Alyssa…before he'd even seen his first nameday…

"Brother" he heard and Baelon stopped in his pacing and turned around. He hadn't even heard him approach.

"Aemon" Baelon said stiffly as he eyed his brother, his posture tense.

"I can see why the servants are taking the long route around." Aemon said as their gazes met, his expression was calm as ever despite the unfriendly acknowledgement.

Baelon sneered slightly as his eyes narrowed "They have no reason to."

Aemon looked at him with hints of scepticism in his eyes as his head reared back slightly "Truly brother? I could hear you grounding down the floor with your pacing from scores away." Aemon said with his arms crossing. 

"No wonder the servants seemed frightful." Aemon said with amusement in his voice. Vague reminiscence of the days of mischief shone through in the faint curl of Aemon's lips.

Baelon met his brother's gaze with a ghost of a scowl though his irritation was shallow "They always did scare too easily." He said with a grunt, the corner of his lips raising up ever so slightly.

Aemon laughed "Aye, that they do. They still talk about us with disdain down in the kitchens."

Baelon's lips twitched before it fell away when he remembered.

Aemon only met his gaze head on, his expression calm as ever even as he spoke "Still no word?" he asked, his gaze now breaking and turned towards the doors.

"None yet." Baelon said with a hint of terseness in his voice as he clenched his jaws. 

He felt his brother's gaze on his back in a way that left him to want to snap and rage yet instead he opted to walk away, away from the suffocating presence of having to deal with his misfortune with someone else present.

He walked towards the open window and gazed out towards the open world wishing he could ride the clouds with Vhagar than to be…here.

He gripped the bottom frame of the window tightly as he looked out towards the ocean, the distant sounds of the sea crashing into the sharp rocks far below doing little to calm his mood.

He tensed slightly when he felt his brother's careful hand on his shoulder, the urge to snap rose within him but he reigned it in, relaxing and the tension within him receded.

His brother stood next to him, gazing out the same window.

"Skorkydoso nūmāzma jī sōvegon lēkia? kosti jikagon jurnegon syt iā dornish mentyr naejot zālagon" [How about we go fly, brother? I'm sure there's a Dornish fleet out there somewhere that needs burning] Aemon said calmly as his hand slipped off of Baelon's shoulder.

Baelon's lips twisted slightly "Vhagar would jorrāelagon se arlinnon" [Vhagar would relish the chance]

He'd relish the chance too. Burning ship after ship until there were none left. He'd never felt more powerful than on that day.

His half smile slid off of his face as he soberly felt the stark contrast of helplessness again.

"The Gods are cruel." Baelon said with a touch of bitterness in his tone.

Aemon said nothing as Baelon continued "He was fine for moons after Alyssa's death and just as I began to hope…"

"His drake is no longer sickly" Aemon after a few moments of silence "The dragonkeepers had been sure the drake would not live despite their efforts yet it grows stronger."

Baelon said nothing. There was no reason to do so. Not when they both knew that he remained hopeful because of that reason alone even if it seemed nonsense.

The egg that Aegon slept with had hatched the night of his wife's death. Some of the superstitious members of the court had seen it as a sign of the Gods and that his wife had been reborn though such superstitions soon fell silent when it was clear his son turned sickly just as his drake turned sickly.

He'd ordered the dragonkeepers to keep the drake alive at all costs and now that the drake grew stronger, he only hoped his son follow and live.

"He's still fighting." Aemon pointed out quietly "Babes rarely live past the first few days of fever, not when it was that bad. He's still alive, brother. You must have faith."

"I lost much of that faith when Alyssa died." Baelon said with a stiff glare at his brother. Alyssa had been greatly weakened yet she died within the year. His eyes closed at the memories of his joyous wife having been reduced to a pitiful woman at the end. None of his prayers, none to the Mother, to the Father even the Stranger had worked.

Before Aemon could say anything in return, the doors creaked open and Baelon shared a glance with his brother before he turned around.

The grand maester walked out and Baelon made his way towards him.

"How is he?" Baelon demanded impatiently

"The boy will live." Grandmaester Elysar said after a moment "The fever has weakened and he is now in a stable condition."

Baelon let off a sigh of relief.

"But" the grand maester said with caution in his voice "There are still many long days ahead before we can be sure"

"One day at a time, grand maester, one day at a time is agreeable with us" Aemon said with a smile on his face. Aemon clasped him on the shoulder.

Baelon looked towards Aemon with a long stare before he gave in with a tired nod "One day a time" he agreed

Aemon smiled "Go to your son, Baelon. I will let muña and kepa know of the good news."

Baelon walked past the grand maester and into the apartment. The acolytes and the wet nurse vacated the room as he strode forward, his gaze intently on the cot.

He arrived at the cot with a slow pace and looked down at the sleeping form of his infant son.

He looked peaceful, as if he had not been desperately fighting for his life for days.

He leaned forward and gently stroked his son's head. "Sȳrī gaomagon, ñuha tresy. Emā issare kostōba" [Well done, my son. You have been strong]

Stronger than he could have wished for. Perhaps one more piece of Alyssa would live on after all.

He stood back, casting one more gaze at his son. "Gaomagon vīlībāzma, aegon. Iksā se ānogar hen zaldrīzes" [Keep fighting, Aegon. You are the blood of the dragon] he said with a whisper before he turned away.

He left the apartment and headed down the hallways until he arrived at his part of the wing in the holdfast.

"My Prince" the guards said with a bow of the head before they opened the doors for him.

He walked through the door, his gaze fell on his son who sat reading with an acolyte. Viserys realised Baelon had arrived and stood up before running towards him 

"Kepa!"

Baelon smiled at his son as he ruffled his heir's long silver locks. 

He hadn't seen his son for more than a day.

"Viserys. Have you been keeping up with your studies?" Baelon asked, a glance sent towards the acolyte before he refocused on his son.

"Of course!" Viserys exclaimed offended before he looked to the acolyte "I did my numbers and I did well in the test! I got all the Crownlands Houses and their sigils right!"

"Is that so?" Baelon said with a look towards the acolyte.

"Yes my Prince." The acolyte said with a bow of the head "Prince Viserys did very well in his test and he is continuing to progress well in his studies."

Baelon looked back at his son and saw him stand up a little prouder and Baelon chuckled "Well done Viserys. Perhaps it's time to start your martial training" Baelon mused. 

He had not permitted Viserys to train yet even though he himself had started a younger age. 

The situation with Alyssa and then Aegon…

Viserys had beamed at the praise before he looked on excitedly at the prospect of fighting yet that excitement had gone away within a blink when he began to fidget.

"Aegon?" Viserys asked hesitantly, his eyes wide with concern and reluctant hope.

Baelon sighed slightly as he crouched down "Your brother lives, Viserys." He said with a gentle tone. "And he is getting better."

Viserys began to smile widely "I knew it!" Viserys said with an assured jerk of a nod in only a way a child could pull off "Issa iā zaldrīzes" [He is a Dragon]

Baelon laughed as he got up and ruffled his son's hair "That he is, Viserys" he said with a genuine smile "That he is."

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94 AC, Kings Landing

His arm buckled as the strikes hit again and again, the noise of wood clashing against wood ringing in his ears as his bones rattles under the forceful strikes.

"Come little brother" Daemon taunted cheekily, the glint in his lilac eyes hard as he continued his assault.

Daemon was a whirlwind, a ball of relentless fury that seemed to wish to consume him in the fires of his pent up rage.

Aegon grit his teeth as he kept backing away all while absorbing away most of his brother's attacks. He blocked an overhead strike and with a swift move ducked under the following horizontal strike and he thrusted forward with his sword, surprising Daemon.

Daemon twisted around, just in time to avoid his thrust and slashed towards him but he caught it just in time with his wooden blade. Daemon seemed to refocus, his strikes becoming more methodical, like an unrelenting crash of waves seeking to break him in half like a boulder by the shore.

A strike hit harder and faster than he could prepare for and went past his sword. He leaned and bent away to his right just in time to avoid it hitting him on the head yet not enough to avoid it from striking against his sword arm's shoulder.

He bit his tongue at the pain and tried to raise his sword but the nerves in his arm felt like they were on fire and the sword felt like it was made out of lead. Before he knew it, another strike against his hand sent the wooden sword clattering. Aegon looked at his brother and saw him looking at him with a smug triumphant look.

"You've lost again little brother." Daemon said cheerfully though there was a little more in his gaze that made it clear that he had enjoyed beating up on him. 

As always, naturally.

Aegon grimaced as he rolled his shoulders before he glanced at his brother with a forced smile on his face "With your help, I'm sure to get better"

Daemon's smile fell off slightly and Aegon's smile became more genuine. He might not actually be ten but it didn't mean he was immune to pettiness.

The clanking of armour prevented Daemon of saying anything further "My Princes." Ser Redwyne called out "A well fought spectacle."

Daemon only scowled slightly before he turned on his heels and threw his sword away and stormed out of the training hall not unlike a petulant teenage girl.

Aegon sighed as he touched his shoulder tenderly. 

"You've done well my Prince" Ser Redwyne said.

"Hmm" Aegon only grunted before he met the knight's gaze.

"I could only really defend" he said with a faint scowl. Like always. It kind of burned at him to be so mediocre.

"Your brother is three and ten, my Prince. He is older, faster and relentless." Ser Redwyne pointed out "There is no shame in losing to Prince Daemon."

Aegon looked at Ser Redwyne with a glare that said a lot which the Lord Commander picked up on by the way his eyes showed hints of amusement.

"That being said" the Kingsguard continued, his expression deadly serious "Whilst you show good footwork and swordplay for your age, you try not to take risks, my Prince."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Aegon asked a little perplexed.

"Yes and no." Ser Redwyne said pausing momentarily before continuing "In battle, you should limit the risks you take yet without risks it is unlikely you will know victory for in battle, the margins between defeat and victory are very small."

Ser Redwyne neared, taking a glance at his swelling shoulder "Not even trying to take risks will only prolong your defeat, my Prince."

Aegon winced internally. Well that definitely was advice that could apply his more long term problems.

"You should go see the grandmaester, my Prince" Ser Redwyne said as he looked at his shoulder meaningfully. He was about to say he was fine but Ser Redwyne continued, cutting him off "And I will inform your father that you should not fight another bout until your shoulder is healed." He said pointedly.

He looked at the Lord Commander with an irritated expression before he gave in "Aye Ser"

Ser Redwyne chuckled as he walked away leaving him alone in the training hall.

Aegon stared at the wooden sword before he picked up with his left hand, his sword hand. His shoulder was painful but it grew more relaxed when he rolled it a few times.

He swung the sword a few times before he shifted into a stance.

"I don't take risks, huh?" he murmured to himself as he outstretched his sword arm.

It was truer than the Lord Commander realised. In his old life that was how he'd gotten far in his life, never taking any risks and in the end, he did better than most. 

Even if a fluke accident killed him at age twenty seven.

Then he'd gotten here. He'd been terrified when he came to awareness around age two and more so when he realised the shit show of a world he'd been reborn into.

He'd seen all of Game of Thrones and read some details about the world and he knew he was quite close to the era of the Dance of the Dragons which was a bad time to be a Targaryen. Honestly, it was probably a bad time to be a Targaryen at any point and he'd lamented his misfortune to be reborn at all.

He grimaced. Those years had not been fun, that was certain. He'd come to terms with it…for the most part.

Thankfully, he hadn't gotten noticed as being too odd, well too odd for a Targaryen at least. He'd been quiet in his early years and the servants rarely interacted with him beyond taking care of his needs. Plus, he was lucky he was born basically parentless. 

Baelon was an inattentive 'father' to him who paid more attention to Viserys even before Baelon's rise as Crown Prince after Aemon's death and to Daemon who was a prodigy with a blade.

That's not too say Baelon didn't care…it just seemed like he didn't know how to interact with him given the way he kept his distance even during his younger years. Sometimes he was sure his 'father' disliked him like Daemon did for their mother's death.

He grimaced at the thought of his 'mother'. His mother-aunt. His father-uncle. He felt a little sick and he refocused on his sword as he tried to stop thinking about it.

Aegon slashed and thrusted again and again until he felt his arm grow numb and he stopped, breathing in and out heavily. He brushed his arm against his forehead, swiping away some of the errant sweat and walked towards the sword stands and hung up the blade.

He rolled his shoulder again and he winced. It was definitely going to be sore for a while.

He went to grandmaester Elysar and after checking his arm, he pasted some ointment on his shoulder and told him to avoid using his arm for the next few days. Elysar told him that he can lend him a few more books from his collection if he wished to keep occupied and Aegon took him on his offer.

He had an amicable relationship with the grandmaester, curtesy of his academic talents that he'd slipped through as he aged. 

Which had been useful as he wanted to know how far he could go with what he knew and so far it looked like he probably could become an extremely wealthy man. He knew the theories and methods behind compasses, clocks, concrete and watermills and those alone should make him wealthier than a dozen merchant princes combined.

As a third son, he wasn't going to get much of an inheritance after all and with how messed up this world was, having a lot of gold was going to be useful at some point or another.

Still, the oddities of this world never really clicked until he understood how little things had progressed for millennia. It seemed like they were stuck on a broken clock for millennia and he didn't really understand how. 

That wasn't the only thing either. 

There were a lot of inconsistencies in Westerosi history that seemed a few times too much to make it a 'typical unreliability' of historical recordkeeping situation.

Like how 'dragonsteel' was used against the Others eight thousand years ago when Valyria is recorded to have risen five thousand years ago. He could have believed maybe a thousand years' difference but three? 

There was much he didn't understand how all of this was possible…his rebirth, the shady history of Westeros even the seasons that were definitely broken in some way.

Maybe there really was a cabal of deities that interfered with the world.

He shook his head as he made his way towards the back entrance of the dragonpit where dragons exited from.

"Nuha dārilaros" [my Prince] one of the elder dragonkeepers came and approached him.

"Iksis ñuha zaldrīzes mazilībagon syt sōvegon" [Is my dragon ready for flight?] he asked the dragonkeeper

"Kessa ñuha dārilaros, aōha zaldrīzes iksis mazilībagon" [Yes your dragon is still saddled] the old dragonkeeper said and Aegon smiled at the old man as he nodded.

The old dragonkeeper barked out in Valyrian at the other dragonkeepers to bring his dragon out before he walked away in the same

He was told that this old man had made sure his dragon had lived as a hatchling.

For that, he'd always have his gratitude.

Low rumbling emerged out of the dark tunnel and a serpentine head poked out of the shadows of the entrance.

The dragon's head was riddled with sharp spikes and curving horns. The being of magic strode forward, slowly, into the daylight on its hind legs and its hooked clawed toe that it used as its forearms with its wings tucked in.

His dragon was odd, in comparison to the others. Where most had a dominating colour, like Silverwing, Vhagar, Vermithor and so on, his dragon had two. A blood red hue with streaks of thick deep blue covering his dragon from head to its tail. There were yellows mixed on his scales too, like small blots of starlight that made his dragon's scales even more pronounced than already was.

Aegon's eyes shone as he walked forward, his dragon catching his scent and bringing his head down.

A loud rumble exited his dragon's great maw as Aegon placed his hand on the creature's snout.

The dragon leaned into his hand and Aegon let out a laugh as he patted down on the creature's snout. "Mīsaragorn" Aegon said affectionately and the dragon responded to him with a low rumble.

To tell the truth, Mīsaragorn had been the reason why he pulled himself together for the most part when he realised there was a benefit in being born in this world.

He'd met his dragon for the first time since it hatched when he'd been four. It had been quarter the size that was now and it had been amongst the smallest recorded for its age. Since then he'd grown quicker and larger than most other dragons his age, a point of pride for him and sometimes he had a feeling that it was the same for Mīsaragorn.

He looked at the saddle and saw it was already there and turned to meet the gaze of his dragon. He couldn't quite explain the bond he had with his dragon…it was less than a whisper, the way they could communicate with another but it was there.

Minutes passed as dragonrider and dragon remained in each other's presence in silence.

Īlen ivestretan mirros tubī [I was told something today] Aegon said to Mīsaragorn and he proceeded to speak to his dragon as if he could understand. Aegon knew his dragon probably understood most of it.

And Mīsaragorn huffed out of his nose when he finished his tale.

"Ao pendagon issa paktot, ȳdra daor ao?" [You think he's right, don't you?] Aegon asked with a sardonic curl of a smile before he looked away from the gaze of his dragon.

A few minutes passed before he come to a decision.

Ser Redwyne was right. Not just about the fighting.

He couldn't not take risks. Not in this world. 

He walked around Mīsaragorn and climbed up and onto his saddle. He rubbed his dragon's neck and Mīsaragorn craned his neck, looking at Aegon with a side glance.

"Skoros gaomagon vestrā, mīsagon? kessa īlon explore bisa vys syt mirre bona zȳha gelebo?" [What do you say Mīsaragorn? Shall we explore this world for all its worth?] he asked of his dragon and Mīsaragorn screeched lowly in response.

Aegon smiled.

Yes…why not?

There was more than just Westeros. 

He didn't want to be near that throne and he didn't want to be involved in the mess that throne would inevitably make.

"Sōvegon Mīsaragorn" [Fly, Mīsaragorn] he shouted out and his dragon's wings unfurled.