| Chapter 12: Dragon Dreams, And The Fragile Throne |

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| Aegon Targaryen - 1st Person Pov |

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The night felt different,— the familiar scent of incense no longer soothed me as it once had, and the silence in my chambers was deafening. Sleep had always come easily before, but tonight, I was restless. My mind raced with thoughts of the court, of Jia's tightening grip, and the rebellion spreading across the empire. But underneath it all, there was something else,— something ancient and burning, just waiting to surface.

I closed my eyes, trying to force the tension from my muscles, but as soon as I drifted into sleep, the dreams came.

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In the dream, the world was fire.

The sky burned with black and pink dragonflames, and the horizon bathed in it.

I stood in the midst of the destruction, my heart pounding in my chest as I watched the flames consume everything in their path.

The ground beneath me trembled, and I could hear the distant roar of something immense,— a beast that lived in the heart of the fire, calling to me.

But this was no ordinary fire. It was the fire of war, of vengeance. I could see it in the distant figures that moved within the flames, shadows twisted by the heat, their faces contorted in agony. And then I saw her,— my mother, Elia Martell, standing at the edge of the blaze.

She was as I remembered her in my other dreams,— beautiful and strong, her dark hair flowing in the wind. But there was something wrong. Blood stained her gown, and her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear. She reached out to me, her voice a whisper carried on the wind.

"Aegon."

I tried to move toward her, but my feet wouldn't obey. I was rooted to the spot, watching helplessly as the fire grew closer, as the shadows of men with swords moved behind her.

"Aegon." she called again, her voice more desperate now. "Why didn't you save us?"

I felt a wave of guilt crash over me, suffocating me. I wanted to scream, to tell her I hadn't known, that I had been a babe, that it wasn't my fault. But the words wouldn't come.

And then, behind her, I saw him. The Mountain. Gregor Clegane. His face was hidden in shadow, but I could feel his presence,— massive, looming, a force of brutality that had torn my family apart. He moved toward my mother, slow and deliberate, his sword gleaming in the firelight.

"No!" I tried to shout, but my voice was swallowed by the flames.

I watched, powerless, as the Mountain's sword came down, and my mother's scream pierced the air. The world blurred, the flames grew higher, and I was forced to witness the horror I had long tried to forget.

But the dream didn't stop there. The fire shifted, the scene changing before me. I saw Rhaenys, my sister, her tiny form lying crumpled on the floor of a ruined chamber, her blood staining the stone beneath her. Her eyes were wide, unseeing, as if frozen in that final moment of terror.

And then, as if the dream itself was mocking me, I heard Robert Baratheon's voice,— deep, booming, filled with laughter. "The dragon died with them." he said, his words laced with disdain. "The dragon is now fully and truly dead."

I felt a surge of fury so intense that it nearly blinded me. The dragon was not dead. I was the dragon, and I would make them pay for what they had done. For my mother, for my sister, for the legacy of House Targaryen.

I could feel the heat of the flames intensify, and suddenly, I was no longer watching. I was standing in the fire, and it did not burn me. It welcomed me.

I raised my hand, and as I did, the flames surged higher, roaring across the landscape.

I could see Westeros now, its castles and towers crumbling beneath the dragon's fire. I saw the Iron Throne, jagged and sharp, the seat of power that had been stolen from my family. And sitting upon it,— was me.

But the dream did not end there.

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The flames shifted once more, and the world around me dissolved into shadows. I was no longer in Westeros. I was in a city,— a ruined city, its towers blackened with age, its streets long abandoned. There was something ancient about this place, something that called to me in a way I couldn't explain.

I walked through the streets, my footsteps echoing in the emptiness. And then, from the shadows, I heard it,— the sound of wings, heavy and powerful, beating against the wind.

I turned, and there, in the distance, I saw it.

A dragon.

But this was no ordinary dragon. It was massive, far larger than any creature I had ever imagined. Its scales were black and pink, darker than the night sky, and its eyes glowed with an ancient fire. It moved through the city with a grace that belied its size, its wings folding as it descended into the ruins.

And then, as if sensing my presence, it turned to face me.

Its eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, the world stood still. I felt something stir deep within me, a connection I couldn't explain.

This dragon,— it knew me. It had been waiting for me.

The dragon's voice filled my mind, not with words, but with an overwhelming sense of purpose. I was meant to find this creature. I was meant to claim it.

The vision shifted once more, and suddenly, I was standing before the Iron Throne again.

But this time, the dragon behind me, behind the walls of the Red Keep, its massive form looming over the throne room, its breath hot on my back. I felt its power, its strength, and I knew that together, we could conquer anything.

The throne was mine.

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I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding, my skin slick with sweat. The dream lingered in my mind, vivid and real, as if the fire and the dragon were still with me.

I sat up, running a hand through my hair, trying to steady my breath. The room was quiet, the only sound the distant murmur of the palace beyond my chambers. But the dream… it had felt more than just a dream. It had felt like a prophecy.

The deaths of my mother and sister played over and over in my mind, fueling a rage that had been simmering within me for years. But now, it was no longer a distant memory. It was a call to action.

I had been content to watch, to learn, to let Jia guide me. But I could no longer ignore the truth. My destiny was not here in Yi Ti. It was in Westeros, and it was waiting for me to claim it.

The Iron Throne belonged to the Targaryens, and I would take it back.

And the dragon… the dragon in the ruined city. Old Valyria. I knew it now. The city in my dream was Old Valyria, the home of my ancestors, the place where the blood of dragons was born. I would go there, and I would find that dragon. It would be mine.

The flames of the dream still burned in my mind, and I could feel their heat pushing me toward a decision I had long delayed. I couldn't stay in Yi Ti forever. The time had come to act. To seize my birthright. To reclaim my family's legacy.

And to make those who had wronged us pay.

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As I rose from my bed, my legs still shaky from the intensity of the dream, I knew what had to be done. The rebellion in Yi Ti was important, yes, but it was not my fight. My fight was across the Narrow Sea, in the lands of my ancestors.

I would find my dragon. I would return to Westeros. And I would make Robert Baratheon, the Mountain, and all of those who had stolen my family's throne burn.

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The palace was buzzing with a strange, restless energy,— an excitement I hadn't felt in weeks. Courtiers moved through the grand halls with renewed purpose, and ministers who usually spoke in hushed tones now whispered with fervor. Something was different. Something significant.

Word had spread like wildfire: The Emperor was finally going to make an appearance in court.

I hadn't seen him once since my arrival in Yi Ti when I was a babe. His absence was such a constant that it almost felt as if he were a myth,— a figurehead whose existence was more symbolic than real. The court ran as if he didn't matter, with Jia firmly at the helm, controlling everything with a deft hand. But today, the Emperor would step out of the shadows.

Jia had said nothing to me when the news broke. She had simply gone about her morning as usual, the calm center in the storm of excitement that now swirled through the palace. But even she couldn't hide the slight tension in her movements.

There was something riding on this appearance,— something I could feel, though I didn't yet fully understand it.

The Jade Hall was packed by the time I arrived. Courtiers filled the space, murmuring among themselves, their eyes flickering toward the dais where the jade throne sat,— empty for now, but not for long. I could see the anticipation on their faces, the way they shifted with barely concealed excitement. They had been waiting for this moment for so long.

Jia stood at the head of the hall, her posture regal as ever. She wore her power like a cloak, her eyes moving across the room with quiet authority. But there was something in her gaze today,— an edge, a wariness. This was not her usual domain, where every movement was calculated and controlled.

Today, she was sharing the stage.

I took my place near the back of the room, close enough to observe but far enough to stay out of the spotlight. I was here to watch, to learn. But I was also here to understand what this moment meant for the empire,— and for me.

The doors to the hall opened, and the room fell silent.

The Emperor entered, flanked by a small group of advisors and guards. He was younger than I had imagined, perhaps only a few years older than me, though his face bore the lines of someone who had carried the weight of an empire on his shoulders,— as well as the unknown sickness that few dared speak about. His robes were rich with golden embroidery, and the crown he wore gleamed in the light of the hall, but there was a weariness in his posture, a hesitance in his movements.

The court bowed as he entered, but it was a slow, measured deference,— more out of duty than true respect. The Emperor had always been a distant figure, and even now, with his presence filling the hall, he felt more like a symbol than a ruler.

As he made his way to the jade throne, I noticed the flicker of glances exchanged among the courtiers. Some watched him with curiosity, while others looked past him, their eyes settling on Jia instead. It was clear who held the true power here.

But then, something unexpected happened.

As the Emperor took his seat, one of the ministers, a man I recognized as Lord Fei, stepped forward. His movement was slow, deliberate, and when he spoke, his voice carried an edge of boldness I hadn't heard before.

"Your Majesty." Lord Fei began, bowing slightly, "it is an honor to see you take your rightful place before the court. It has been far too long since we have had the pleasure of your presence."

The words were polite, respectful even, but there was an undercurrent to them,— an implication that the Emperor's absence had been noted and that it had left a gap that others had been eager to fill.

The Emperor shifted in his seat, his expression unreadable, though I could see the tension in his shoulders. He glanced toward Jia, as if seeking her approval, but she remained silent, her face a carefully controlled mask.

"Lord Fei." the Emperor replied, his voice soft but clear. "I have entrusted the governance of the empire to capable hands in my absence."

His eyes flickered to Jia as he said this, but the room was already buzzing with whispers.

The Emperor was trying to assert his presence, to remind the court that he was still the ruler, even if he hadn't been seen in months.

But Lord Fei wasn't finished.

"Of course, Your Majesty." he said, his tone respectful, but with a sharpness that made the air in the room grow tense. "And yet, there are matters that require your direct attention. The Golden Lotus Rebellion grows bolder by the day, taking some of your cities and villages even, and the court needs your guidance now more than ever."

The Emperor hesitated, his gaze shifting back to Jia, who stood silent beside him.

This was her moment to step in, to take control of the conversation as she always did. But Lord Fei's words had shifted something in the room. The courtiers were watching the Emperor now, not her.

I could feel the shift in the air,— a subtle but undeniable change. The Emperor's supporters, those who had been quiet for so long, were growing bolder. They were challenging Jia's control, and they were doing it through him.

But what struck me most wasn't Lord Fei's boldness,— it was the Emperor's silence. He sat there, as if waiting for someone to speak for him, as if the very idea of ruling on his own was foreign to him. He had the title, the crown, but no true authority.

Jia finally stepped forward, her voice smooth as silk. "The Emperor's guidance is always with us, Lord Fei. He has entrusted me with the responsibility of managing the rebellion, and together, we shall see it quelled."

Her words were carefully chosen, meant to reassure the court that nothing had changed,— that she still held the reins of power. But even as she spoke, I could see the tension growing between her and the Emperor. He glanced at her, then at the court, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though he might speak,— might assert himself.

But he didn't. He remained silent, letting Jia speak for him.

I watched the exchange closely, and for the first time, I saw the cracks in Jia's control.

The Emperor's supporters were no longer content to sit in the shadows. They wanted him to lead, to take his place as the ruler of Yi Ti. And though Jia still held the power, I could see that her grip was not as secure as it once had been.

As the meeting continued, I found my thoughts drifting to my own future,— my own destiny. Jia had taught me much about power, about control. She had shown me how to manipulate events from behind the scenes, how to wield influence without ever stepping into the spotlight.

But now, as I watched the Emperor struggle to assert himself, I began to question whether ruling from behind the scenes was truly the way I wanted to lead.

I thought of the Iron Throne, of the vision I had seen in my dream,— the throne burning with dragonfire, with me seated upon it.

Could I really claim my birthright by hiding in the shadows, letting others speak for me?

Was influence alone enough to rule?

The court was watching the Emperor, waiting for him to act. But he did nothing. He let Jia continue to control the flow of the meeting, let her guide the conversation, while he sat there, little more than a symbol.

I could feel the frustration building inside me. The Emperor had the power to command the room, to make decisions, but he didn't. And as much as I admired Jia's control, I couldn't help but wonder if her way of ruling was what I truly wanted for myself.

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After the meeting ended, the courtiers dispersed, their murmurs filling the hall with a sense of unease. The Emperor had made his appearance, but it had done little to reassure the court. If anything, it had only deepened the cracks in the empire's foundation.

Jia approached me as we left the hall, her eyes searching mine. "You watched carefully today, didn't you?"

I nodded, my mind still racing with everything I had seen. "Yes. The Emperor's supporters are growing bolder."

Her gaze darkened slightly, though her expression remained composed. "They are. But they are still cautious. As long as the Emperor remains passive, they cannot act."

"And what if he doesn't remain passive?" I asked, the question slipping from my lips before I could stop it.

Jia studied me for a moment, her eyes sharp. "Then we will deal with it when the time comes."

I could hear the warning in her voice, the subtle reminder that she still held the power. But even as she spoke, I couldn't shake the feeling that her control was slipping. The court was changing, and the Emperor's silence was no longer enough to keep them in line.

As we walked through the palace, I found myself thinking of Westeros once again. The Iron Throne. My birthright. Jia had taught me to be patient, to move carefully, to wield power from the shadows. But now, I was beginning to see the flaws in that approach.

The Emperor had waited too long. He had let others control his reign, and now, he was losing everything.

I couldn't let that happen to me.

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