[Chapter Size: 4300 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Lading.
...
...
"Are there many days left until we arrive?" the young girl asked anxiously.
"A little longer, dear," replied the woman with silver hair and lilac eyes, already marked by age, in a gentle tone.
"More days? Grandma, we've already been traveling for days. Why don't we just go straight there on the dragons?" the girl complained, crossing her arms and puffing out her chest, with one hand even resting on the sword strapped to her waist.
Anyone could see it was Darksister.
"Calm down, Visenya. Your grandfather doesn't want to enter Valyria that way. It's safer for all of us..." the woman replied, while the girl merely pouted.
"Well, it's not like we couldn't fly straight to those hot lands. You know Daemon already gave an entire speech about that," another woman beside the first commented, amused by the girl's impatience. Her blue eyes sparkled with a playful gleam as she met the younger girl's provocative purple eyes.
"But Grandma Lucis, you should understand me more than anyone here. It's so boring traveling on horseback when we could be using the dragons. Even they're in a bad mood having to wait while we travel on horseback!" Visenya replied stubbornly.
"Visenya, go help your cousin Rhaegar set up the tents!" the first woman ordered, becoming slightly irritated by the younger girl's stubbornness.
The girl clicked her tongue but obeyed. She could never refuse this woman, after all, she was none other than Daenerys Targaryen, now known throughout the world as the Queen Mother.
Daenerys remained seated before the campfire and let out a long sigh, her eyes turning toward the woman beside her, Lucis.
"So impatient... I think she takes after someone we never even met in the flesh..." she murmured, thinking of that woman in her ghostly form at Winterfell. Daemon's mother behaved exactly the same way, even as a ghost...
Lucis smiled faintly. "I think I know who you're talking about..."
Visenya was one of the daughters of Aegon and Rhaella. A Targaryen princess who had decided to travel the world with her grandfather after leaving the Iron Throne for Aegon to rule.
"Well... I think she inherited far more from Daemon," Lucis replied. She too was already past fifty years old. Just like Daenerys and the others, yet she remained an elegant woman, though time had already left its marks. Daemon's wives had also decided to follow him around the world.
At that moment, the group was near Volantis, traveling toward Valyria. They were making the journey on horseback, stopping every night to rest. Daemon had insisted on this plan, refusing to simply fly to the ruins on the dragons, since they had no idea what dangers might still exist in the ancient Valyrian capital. Even though he could cover the entire group with 98% Fire Elemental Defense Magic against the element.
Daenerys and Lucis watched Visenya helping her cousin Rhaegar set up the tents, although the boy looked at her with some surprise because of her obvious bad mood.
He was Aenar's son. Lucis looked at her blood grandson with pride, who had also come along on the journey with his dragon and was having a difficult time dealing with Visenya.
They were fourteen and fifteen namedays old. They were the only young people in the group, accompanying the adventures of Daemon, Daenerys, Lucis, Val, and Ygritte.
When Daemon gave up the crown, the first thing he did was help his children manage the domains he had granted each of them.
He was always offering suggestions here and there, assisting with projects, and even financing some initiatives, allowing his children and grandchildren to repay him only when they were able.
In any case, once everything was finally running as it should, Daemon realized that Westeros no longer held his attention.
He turned his focus to Essos and to his other wives, who also wished to see the rest of the world after hearing all the stories brought back by Odahviing.
The dragon, incidentally, still appeared every few years to talk with Daemon. Being immortal, he had no difficulty traveling between the two worlds. He did not even need to be summoned. Whenever he felt like it or grew bored, he simply appeared.
Furthermore, thanks to Meridia's influence in Westeros, magic was beginning to become something relatively common. Some people awakened gifts of healing and Light Magic, becoming clerics devoted to the goddess.
Although some prejudice still existed, the Faith of the Seven could no longer prevent the growth of Meridia's worship. At that moment, its influence was only a shadow of what it had once been.
Daemon was certain that the High Septon from the past, whose ass he had pierced with an arrow, would hate him even more if he knew about that future. But it wasn't as though Daemon had any obligation to please the Faith of the Seven.
In any case, the kingdom was still adjusting to its new king. Daemon's children already ruled their own domains, and his grandchildren were beginning to take on responsibilities as well.
Two generations had grown up since Daemon's coronation. The third would begin to be born over the coming years.
This was the moment Daemon had always been waiting for. The time to return to being nothing more than an adventurer. Once his wives realized they were finally free from the crown and the responsibilities of the Seven Kingdoms, they accepted Daemon's proposal.
He called it 'retirement.' It was a strange term in Westeros, one that had never existed before, but Daemon always said it meant living without the obligation to work or rule, simply enjoying life.
They would finally reach their first objective in a few days... Since the Doom, almost no one had managed to enter those lands and come back alive. The only known exception was Euron Greyjoy, who had returned carrying a strange curse connected to the Night King.
For that reason, they decided to become the first group to truly explore those ruins. Even so, Daemon preferred to proceed cautiously. Instead of simply flying to the center of Valyria, they would use the gates and advance little by little.
His wives agreed.
At that moment, Daemon himself arrived at the camp and stopped in front of Visenya, who was talking to her cousin.
As soon as she met her grandfather's gaze, the girl immediately straightened her posture. She admired Daemon more than anyone else.
To Visenya, there was no better grandfather. He was the one who had given her Dark Sister after Aegon, her father, returned the sword in order to receive Blackfyre, the symbol of the new King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Most of his weapons had already been passed down to his children and grandchildren.
The only exception was the Leviathan Axe. None of his descendants possessed a body strong enough to wield it. Although some had awakened the soul of the Dovah, none had absorbed a dragon soul as Daemon had, and their bodies had never reached that same level of enhancement.
As for Skyrim's magic, most of the spells Daemon had learned could not be directly passed on to his children. Only the schools of Conjuration and Alteration could be taught normally.
Even so, thanks to Odahviing, he managed to obtain spell tomes from the schools of Destruction and Restoration in Tamriel.
All of his children had access to them.
They studied.
They trained.
Daemon had never possessed great talent in those branches of magic, but he taught everything he knew. As the years passed, he even developed a certain degree of skill. And many of his children displayed remarkable talent in those fields.
It had already become common to see any member of the royal family conjuring flames in their hands, lights, summoning creatures, casting lightning, or using minor healing spells.
"Visenya... judging by the look of things, you seem to be in a bad mood today..." Daemon said to his granddaughter, leaving her dumbfounded.
"How do you know?" she asked. Daemon had not been at the camp when she complained, having taken Val and Ygritte to gather firewood. But one glance to the side told her everything. "Ah! You were inside Winter's mind!" she accused. It was normal for Daemon to enter the minds of the dragons, and Winter was beside them because his body was cooler. The very atmosphere changed with his presence, making even the hot nights of southern Essos feel refreshingly cool.
Daemon ignored the accusation. "I know patience isn't your strongest quality, but one day your life may depend on it," Daemon said in a serious tone.
His voice, now belonging to a man a little over fifty years old, remained firm. He had never lost the bearing of a general. Much less the Voice of the Dragonborn. Even after thirty years as king, his words still sounded like absolute commands, whether he wore a crown or not.
Visenya merely shrugged, pouting slightly. Daemon then turned his gaze toward the other boy. "Rhaegar?"
"Yes, Grandpa?" he asked, a little nervously.
"Keep Visenya occupied. Don't let her do anything foolish."
"Grandpa!" the girl complained accusingly.
Daemon simply ignored her. The boy merely nodded, though he knew he had been given an almost impossible task. Visenya's glare at him did not help much either.
Visenya was, by far, the wildest Targaryen of her generation.
Even so, Daemon had always made the duties of the entire family very clear.
His descendants possessed strength.
They possessed dragons.
They possessed magic.
But there were also rules. None of his children, grandchildren, or great-grandchildren could act simply because they had power.
The family must always come first, and they could never harm one another without reason.
No brother, cousin, grandchild, or great-grandchild was ever to betray another member of House Targaryen. Every decision had to be made with the family's best interests in mind.
Furthermore, Daemon had also established another important rule. None of his descendants could have children outside of marriage, or even lose their virginity to anyone other than their betrothed.
The purity of the bloodline remained something he was determined to preserve. In any case, Daemon merely sighed and returned to his former wives, who remained seated while Ygritte and Val also joined the group.
"She reminds me a lot of someone," Daemon commented.
"Lyanna, isn't it?" Daenerys asked, already knowing exactly who her husband was thinking about.
Daemon simply nodded. "Out of all our children and grandchildren, she's the one who's most like her."
"Are you afraid she'll run away with some prince?" Daenerys asked teasingly.
Daemon merely snorted. "I hope that never happens."
The family was doing well. Visenya would not be the one to destroy it... She was wild, but Daemon would make sure she had a husband worthy of her.
And of course, there were also those who married outside of House Targaryen. They were granted permission to continue riding their dragons.
However, their children would no longer have that right. It was a rule meant to prevent another Dance of the Dragons from ever happening.
Even so, some fools tried to challenge that rule. It happened a few times, and Daemon had to intervene personally, speaking directly with one of his daughters and one of his grandsons to make the importance of that rule perfectly clear.
In any case, the group set up camp, gathered around the campfire, talked, had dinner, and rested.
The following morning, they finally advanced into Valyria. They kept the gates protected while exploring the ancient ruins using the map Odahviing had given Daemon.
That was only the first of many adventures.
They say Daemon traveled in search of the place where the sun rose, always heading east.
He passed through Yi Ti, visited Asshai, went beyond the Jade Sea, reaching lands far beyond the known world, always accompanied by his family, his children, and his grandchildren. He entered the Red Waste, beyond the maps.
Two years passed during those travels, and Daemon and the others did not return to Westeros during that time.
Surprisingly, they returned through the Sunset Sea, landing directly in the Westerlands. Upon arriving, they heard everything that had happened in the Seven Kingdoms during their absence.
Afterward, they traveled to King's Landing, where they reunited with the rest of the family. Aegon, now thirty namedays old and in the third year of his reign, was ruling very well.
Daemon was satisfied. He realized that he truly no longer needed to interfere.
His son was a great king, and he was proud of that. Afterward, he negotiated with the North and Robb, who still ruled Winterfell with his white hair, alongside his son while raising his grandchildren.
Daemon gained possession of Sea Dragon Point, completely restored the old castle, and decided to spend the rest of his days there beside his wives.
With their dragons, they could travel to any part of the kingdom in little time.
And so the years passed.
Then the decades.
The kingdom continued changing hands just as Daemon had always wished. When Aegon completed thirty-two years of reign, he handed the crown to his own grandson and heir, the son of Daemon II, keeping alive the tradition his father had begun.
By the time Daemon reached eighty years of age, Ygritte was the first of his wives to pass away. Even surrounded by the finest healers, she died of old age.
She was taken to King's Landing and buried beside the Targaryen family. By then, her blood flowed through the veins of countless children of the dynasty, and she had taken part in raising the princes and many of her grandchildren. It was no surprise that the entire family attended her funeral, where she was honored with a resting place befitting a Targaryen queen.
Ten years later, it was Val's turn.
Lucis passed away shortly afterward, at ninety-five namedays.
Finally, Daenerys also passed away seven years later. She was one hundred and two namedays old.
Her final wish was to die in King's Landing. After spending decades living peacefully beside Daemon at Sea Dragon Point, managing the small town that had grown around the castle and enjoying the peace that the former kings and queen of Westeros had brought to the region, she asked to return to the capital one last time and spend her final three years there...
Daemon granted her request, and they lived peacefully with the luxury of servants tending to their every need until, one day, she passed away in the Red Keep.
Daenerys was the first Targaryen queen after the restoration of the dynasty. Her death deeply affected King's Landing.
There were still many elderly people who had been born during her reign and remembered the queen with affection. Daenerys had always been generous to children and to the common people.
It was common to hear the city's residents simply call her 'Mother.' Even after her passing, her story continued to be told from generation to generation, passed from parents to their children, and then to their grandchildren.
Jon remained alive, and now he was the last survivor of his marriage. Even some of his own children had passed away before him.
After spending fifty years away from the Iron Throne and without a crown upon his head, he never again wished to involve himself in politics.
Now, nothing else bound him to this place. He no longer concerned himself with Westeros while his descendants ruled and prospered.
Despite his advanced age, he remained as strong as a bull. All Seven Kingdoms respected him. Even the king, the grandson of his great-grandson, his great-great-grandson, and the entire family bowed their heads whenever they met him.
Daemon was a living legend.
His name was heard throughout all of Westeros and the rest of the world. Even though it had already been eighty years since he first appeared in Winterfell after disappearing for eight years, no one in the Seven Kingdoms had known what he was capable of back then, and he had amused himself by toying with Lord Stark, the Usurper, and the king's bastards.
By himself, he had made Westeros tremble after what he did in King's Landing.
He went to the North and returned with an army.
He conquered the North.
Then the Seven Kingdoms.
He defeated the Blackfyres.
He triumphed over the Others.
His final battle was still a legend told across the entire continent, although there was almost no one left alive who had truly witnessed those events.
The religion of Meridia, now the most powerful faith in Westeros, never ceased to revere him as the goddess's greatest champion.
Dawnbreaker never lost its radiance. The sword remained embedded in the great statue erected in his honor in King's Landing.
Daemon was recorded in history books as a legend unto himself.
He won wars.
He restored House Targaryen.
He founded a new dynasty.
He brought the faith of Meridia to Westeros, proving, in the eyes of many, to be a better path than the Faith of the Seven. A religion founded upon kindness, light, and the protection of the innocent.
He also brought magic back to the world, first to his family, then to the rest of the kingdom.
There was no longer anyone in Westeros who did not know the name Daemon Targaryen, the Great.
The greatest among men, as they said. His journeys alongside his wives and grandchildren also spread his fame throughout both the known and unknown world.
Some said he had fought monsters in lands beyond the recorded maps. Others swore he had defeated ancient creatures hidden at the ends of the world.
They told that whenever he raised the Voice, the very sky trembled. Thunder echoed across the heavens. Arcane powers never before seen in that world were witnessed by all who stood present.
And at one hundred and two years of age, Daemon made one final decision.
He would no longer remain in Westeros. He knew he would still live for a very long time.
Most of the people he had known were dead.
Bran had died at fifty-six namedays, Robb had also died at seventy namedays, Arya had died at sixty namedays. Rickon had taken over Storm's End and died at sixty-four namedays.
Benjen died at sixty-five namedays. Lord Stark became Lord Commander and died at sixty-six namedays. Catelyn, the corpse monster as people in the Riverlands called her, died at forty-four namedays.
Although he wished to reunite with Lyanna, Rhaegar, Ygritte, Daenerys, Val, Lucis, and many of those who had already departed, leaving behind only their descendants... that moment was still far away.
There was no longer anyone capable of accompanying him on that long journey. So he decided to leave.
They say the former king walked to his two dragons, companions of an entire lifetime. Both had grown until they reached around eighty or ninety meters in length.
There, he announced that he would leave Westeros for an indefinite period. The news astonished the entire kingdom.
But no one tried to stop him, despite a few subtle words. It was the decision of the greatest king Westeros had ever known.
Mounted upon his dragon, Daemon took flight for the last time. He headed toward the far south, in the direction of Sothoryos.
After that... He disappeared for nearly twenty years.
The kingdom had already passed into the hands of a new king, and no one had any more news of Daemon Targaryen.
Some said he had died while flying upon his dragons. That belief only grew stronger when both dragons returned to Westeros alone.
Viridrax landed directly on Dragonstone and returned to one of his old caves. By then, he had already surpassed one hundred meters in length, rivaling Balerion in size.
Winter returned to the North. Some claimed she remained on Skagos. Others swore they had seen her beyond the Wall, flying toward the Lands of Always Winter.
Daemon, however, never returned during those years, and the dragons' return and separation convinced most people that the former king had finally died.
Even so, the rumors never disappeared over the years. Some believed he had merely left that world for a time.
Throughout the decades, stories emerged about an old man with gray hair and intense violet eyes walking anonymously through the Seven Kingdoms. They said he spoke with the common people, helped those in need, and possessed magical powers. In exchange for his assistance, he would ask how the Targaryens were ruling the kingdom before disappearing without warning.
It was also strange that neither of the two great dragons ever accepted another rider from the family. Viridrax would roar and drive everyone away, while Winter was impossible to catch, the dragon constantly flying from one place to another across the frozen lands of the North.
Daemon had become the first dragonrider to bond with two dragons, something no one else ever managed to replicate, and they had become the most powerful creatures in the world, measuring around one hundred and twenty meters in length, even larger than Balerion, the Black Dread.
Even so, the rumors continued, and on one occasion, knights of Dragonstone swore they had seen an old man stroking Viridrax's head before vanishing before their eyes. The dragon even let out a sorrowful lament.
None of the Targaryens of that generation understood what was truly happening. Even so, many already believed that Daemon was not dead.
He was simply continuing to watch over the kingdom from afar. In truth, Daemon had indeed traveled between worlds.
He returned to Tamriel and devoted another thirty years of his life to the study of magic, striving to surpass his own limits until he reached a level where he no longer needed dragons to cross the skies.
He lived until he was one hundred and sixty years old. Then he felt that, at last, his body had reached its limit. He could have lived even longer with his knowledge of magic, but he decided to bring his journey to an end, as his body would only continue to grow more fragile.
Shortly before the end, he appeared one last time in the throne room of the Red Keep, startling everyone when he materialized. He looked at the man seated upon the throne, some relative from the generations after his great-great-grandson.
"I am Daemon Targaryen, First of My Name. My only request... is that I be buried beside my wives and my children."
His voice still echoed like thunder. All of King's Landing seemed to tremble before the power he had accumulated over so many decades, as the last Dragonborn looked upon the kingdom he had built for one final time.
The king, his descendant, never even considered denying that request. And the dragons proved it was true when Viridrax appeared the very next moment, roaring in mourning as Daemon collapsed dead in the middle of the throne room.
Thus, in the year 463 A.C., Daemon Targaryen died at the age of one hundred and sixty and was finally laid to rest in the great crypt built beneath King's Landing, beside Daenerys, Val, Lucis, and Ygritte.
His sarcophagus was larger than any other belonging to House Targaryen. A symbol of who he had been.
The man who had broken the limitations of mortals and attained a power far beyond that of any king who had existed before him.
Daemon the Great left his mark upon that world until his final breath.
...
When he opened his eyes again... He realized he was young once more and standing in an entirely white place.
He did not understand. Confused, he looked around.
That place... It felt strangely familiar, comforting... Was this the afterlife?
"You've finally arrived." The gentle voice echoed around him.
Daemon turned his gaze and saw Meridia approaching with a broad smile on her face, her eyes glowing with golden light.
"So... this is it? I'm dead..." Daemon murmured the obvious, still unable to grow accustomed to the idea.
"Yes. And I am here to take you to those who are waiting for you. Your mother... your wives... your children."
"I understand... Let's go." Daemon took a step forward.
But Meridia raised a finger, making him stop. "I'm not finished yet, my champion."
He looked at her curiously.
"You have a choice."
"A choice?"
"Yes. You may come with me and reunite with those you love... or accept a new adventure."
"A new adventure?" he asked in surprise.
"Another world, another life, another story. Daemon Targaryen... this is your opportunity to decide which path you wish to follow."
Daemon remained silent.
He lowered his gaze for a few moments.
A new life...
A new adventure...
After some time, he looked back at Meridia.
"I want..." His answer was never heard.
Whether Daemon Targaryen went to join those he loved... or departed for a new adventure in another world...
That is not for us to answer. What we know is only one thing.
This was the story of Daemon Targaryen...
The Dragonborn.
Author's Note:
Our adventure ends here. I think it concluded by reflecting on several events and characters throughout his life. I didn't want to dwell on that for too long. I hope you enjoyed it, even if it felt a bit fragmented.
And I have to admit, I'm feeling empty after writing this chapter. In any case, thank you to everyone who read this story.
I need to make a few changes to this story, and I'll take advantage of the fact that it's over. First, I want to rewrite the first twelve chapters and add a chapter that I never wrote, about the execution of Theon Greyjoy in Winterfell before the armies of the North, the Stormlands, and the Free Folk marched south...
Man, I hate this emptiness. I'm not even going to write anything else today. I'm sad that this story has come to an end.
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