Daemon Targaryen

Within the lands of the Free Cities, specifically the bustling city of Pentos, a man with pitch black hair and dark eyes walked through the crowded streets.

He wore black clothes with metallic guards on his wrists and shoulders, and a sheathed blade hung at his hip.

[Image]

His presence commanded attention, causing wary and curious gazes to follow him as people swiftly made way for his intimidating figure.

Despite his fearsome appearance, the man moved with a relaxed demeanor, his thoughts drifting to memories of another life.

He was known as Daemon Targaryen in this world, but his soul was not of this universe. He had been reincarnated from modern Earth, where this world was known as an entertainment show called "Game of Thrones," originally a series of books.

Born as an ordinary commoner in this harsh and unforgiving reality, Daemon quickly realized that survival would be a challenge. However, his fortunes changed when a resourceful system appeared to him, known as the Targaryen System.

This system held the key to his survival and potential dominance in a world filled with danger and political intrigue. 

Unfortunately...

'System.' Daemon commanded inwardly.

....

..

|Targaryen System|

Name: Daemon

Valyrian Bloodline: 0% 

[Troops](Locked)

[Dragons](Locked)

Abilities: None

Reputation Points: None

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Everything will be locked until user hatches a Dragon Egg...

....

..

He chuckled at the system's prompt, shaking his head in mild exasperation. The system had remained locked for all 19 years of his life, with the key to unlocking it being the hatching of a dragon egg.

As the War of the Five Kings loomed on the horizon, time was of the essence. If his memory served correctly, the current timeline was around the beginning of season one in Game of Thrones, or perhaps just before it. Either way, there wasn't much time left for him to prepare.

Thankfully, he had at least been granted a dragon egg. All he had to do was figure out how to hatch it, a task that had eluded him so far. Despite this, he felt confident that his fortunes would soon change.

Anyone who met him would quickly notice that, despite his claim to the Targaryen name, he lacked any evidence of his lineage, not to mention his hair was black, far from the unique silver colored hair that represented pure Valyrians.

The system itself didn't even acknowledge him as a Targaryen, simply displaying his name as Daemon.

This wasn't inaccurate. He was born ordinary. But he had reasons for his public declaration of Targaryen heritage. People often called him an impostor or a liar, but he silenced their doubts with his exceptional talent and skill in swordsmanship.

While mastery of the sword didn't make him a Targaryen, it did make him a notable figure in Pentos. He undertook various mercenary jobs, building a name that people could no longer ignore

And with his affiliation beside two certain Targaryen siblings, his claim grew even more believable.

Focusing back onto reality, eventually, he turned into a deserted alleyway and slipped into a small building.

The supposed wooden tavern was entirely empty, with a single man standing behind a table, looking every bit the owner and bartender.

Their interaction was wordless; Daemon dropped a small sack onto the table with a loud clink. The bartender didn't even bother looking inside as he nodded, picked up the sack, and quietly left the tavern.

Daemon moved towards the man's previous position behind the table. Bending down, he lifted a wooden panel, revealing a hidden underground bunker with a ladder descending into the darkness.

Without hesitation, he climbed down the ladder, eventually touching the ground. Despite the pitch-black surroundings, he navigated through the darkness as if he knew the path well.

He continued down a flight of stairs, this time flanked by torches. The flickering light cast eerie shadows, but he pressed on until he reached a large, torch-lit room.

A smile spread across his face as he took in the sight before him: countless people chained to the walls, blindfolded and gagged, with others shackled to the ground in the center of the room, all groaning in obvious discomfort.

He then spoke flamboyantly, his voice echoing through the chamber, "Wakey, wakey! Your time has finally arrived!"

All the captives shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his voice, their attempts to speak resulting only in muffled noises through their gags.

Daemon clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Tsk, tsk, what did I say about the noise?" At his words, they gulped silently. He sighed, before his smile widened. "Since I'm in a good mood today, I'll allow one of you to talk."

With that, he removed the blindfold and gag from one of the prisoners on the ground.

The prisoner immediately grabbed Daemon's foot, pressing their face against the floor. "Please, Lord Daemon! Forgive my transgressions! I won't even give children a glance!"

Daemon looked down at him with an expression of pity. "Fear not, your sins shall soon be absolved."

At his words they looked up instantly, eyes filled with hope. "Really?"

Daemon raised an eyebrow. "Is that not what you want?"

The captive shuddered and pressed their face back against his feet. "No, milord! I wish to be absolved! I promise I'll never commit such an act again!"

Daemon smiled, nodding. "Very good. I'm glad you're at least willing."

The prisoner beamed with happiness at his words, but couldn't help furrowing their brows at the ominous tone.

Chik!

They didn't even have time to process the change in Daemon's expression before a blade sliced through the air, embedding itself in the top of his skull.

Blood spurted from the top of their head, as their body slowly crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Thud!

The sound of the body hitting the floor sent a wave of tension through the rest of the captives. They began to frantically thrash about, their chains rattling as they desperately tried to break free.

Daemon's once happy expression was now one of cold indifference. He swiped his blade through the air, splattering blood onto the ground.

He took a step forward and slashed his blade down onto the neck of another prisoner. Blood spurted from their neck, but Daemon continued, slashing another's neck before stabbing one through the heart.

The captives' panic grew, their frantic movements becoming more desperate as they realized their fate.

As Daemon methodically killed the prisoners one by one, the stench of blood filled the air, pooling on the ground.

Muffled wails of agony echoed through the chamber as he swung his blade again and again. Blood spattered everywhere, covering his figure and making his hair unkempt from the wild movements.

Again, and again, and again.

After some time, Daemon stood at the center, his breath faster than usual, slightly panting from the massacre.

He seemed unaffected by the surrounding carnage as he pulled a sack from under his jacket. Unraveling it, he revealed a dragon egg, the one he had obtained from the system.

Gently, he placed the egg onto the bloodied ground.

Daemon then retrieved a jug from the upper room and doused the corpses in a thick black liquid.

Once finished, he took one of the torches from the wall and backed up to the entrance of the room. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the torch into the center.

A great fire erupted, lighting the room in bright orange flames.

The fire illuminated the serious features on Daemon's face as he watched the blaze intently, as though waiting for something. Outwardly composed, inwardly he harbored doubt.

'It didn't work?'

Crack!

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he noticed and heard a distinct crack emanating from the dragon egg.

A wide smirk spread across his face as he observed the egg slowly shudder and crackle amidst the flames.

However, his joy soon turned to cautiousness as he felt his breath quicken. 'The fire is consuming all the oxygen. I don't have much time...' With the heat pressed against his face.

Ignoring the discomfort, he continued to watch with pride as the cracks in the egg grew wider.

Crack!

"Meek!"

Before long, a small draconic head emerged, followed by wings breaking free from the eggshell.

Daemon saw a prompt appear before him but ignored it, as he entered the fire-filled room to pick up the hatchling, the scorching heat searing his skin lessened, almost as if his skin had become resistant.

Paying no mind to the change, he exited the room, heading back up the stairs and climbing the ladder into the cavern with the lizard-like creature cradled in his arm.

However, something was off; even the cavern was now ablaze, mirroring the inferno below. Nothing was spared from the heat, and he could hear shouts of fear from the streets outside.

Despite the seemingly dire circumstances, his usual casual smile appeared. He cradled the small dragon, which cooed softly in his arms, and made his way outside.

To him, everything was going perfectly.

Daemon then stepped out into the bright sunlight, and from all directions, people crowded the entrance, watching in shock as he emerged from the blazing cavern.

Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the crowd.

"Is that... a dragon?"

"How did he survive that fire?"

"Is he actually a true Targaryen?"

Daemon silently observed their reactions, until suddenly, a shout broke through the murmurs.

"Daemon!"

A beautiful silver-haired woman wearing a simple tunic dress dashed forward, grabbing his face as she checked him over with a worried look, "Are you okay?"

He offered her a wordless smile, recognizing her as Daenerys Targaryen, someone he had become quite close to in this life, something akin to siblings.

'Everything is going quite perfect...' He thought, as he gently cradled the newborn dragon in his arms.

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Powerstones....