111 AC
King's Landing had rarely looked so alive.
Banners bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen fluttered in the warm breeze, and the streets overflowed with nobles, knights, merchants, and common folk alike. The capital had gathered to celebrate the fifth anniversary of the marriage between King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower, and no expense had been spared.
At the heart of the celebration stood the grand tournament grounds.
Steel rang against steel, hooves thundered across the sand, and cheers rolled through the stands like waves. Knights from across the Seven Kingdoms had come to test their strength, honor, and ambition beneath the gaze of dragons and royalty.
At the center of it all, Ser Criston Cole, clad in gleaming armor and wearing Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen's favor, lowered his lance.
With a sharp crack, his blow struck true.
Ser Gawen Hightower was unhorsed.
The crowd erupted.
"Well fought!" someone shouted.
In the royal stands, Prince Aegon Targaryen watched the scene with mild interest, a thick history book resting open in his hands.
"Uncle Gawen is still quite formidable," Aegon said calmly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Five rounds before he was finally unhorsed."
Beside him, Queen Alicent Hightower maintained her composed posture, though her fingers tightened slightly against the armrest.
She did not reply.
As the King's second queen, every gesture she made was watched. Even mild displeasure could be twisted into rumor or political weakness. So she remained silent, her expression serene.
Aegon noticed, of course.
But he said nothing further.
His attention returned to the book in his hands—The History of the Targaryen Dynasty. He flipped another page, the parchment soft beneath his fingers.
He did not truly care who won the tourney.
Because Aegon Targaryen was not truly a child.
Inside his young body lived the soul of a twenty-four-year-old man from another world.
In his previous life, he had lived on a distant planet known as Blue Star. There, he had read Fire and Blood, a chronicle filled with betrayal, ambition, and dragonfire.
He knew this story.
He knew how it ended.
And when he realized that he had awakened as Aegon Targaryen, he abandoned any foolish hope of living an easy life.
The civil war that would tear House Targaryen apart did not begin with swords or dragons.
It began the moment the midwife cried, "A boy!"
Aegon was the eldest son of King Viserys I, and many throughout the realm believed that alone made him the rightful heir. Yet the Iron Throne had already been promised to another—his half-sister, Princess Rhaenyra, the king's firstborn child.
From the moment of his birth, Aegon had become a living problem.
In the game of thrones, there were no draws.
Only one side survived.
---
The final jousts concluded amid roaring applause.
As expected, Ser Criston Cole emerged as the champion, raising his lance as the crowd shouted his name.
But before he could fully accept the glory, the sky changed.
A dragon screamed.
The sound was sharp, piercing, and terrifying—an ancient roar that silenced tens of thousands in an instant. Shadows swept across the arena as clouds parted above.
A massive, blood-red dragon descended from the sky.
Its long, serpentine body twisted as it landed before the royal stands, wings beating the air into chaos.
Caraxes.
Nicknamed the Blood Wyrm.
A dragon feared across the Narrow Sea—swift, vicious, and battle-hardened.
Aegon looked up, his expression calm.
"A massive and terrifying beast," he murmured. "With more combat experience than most living men."
Alicent's fingers began to pick nervously at one another.
The rider of Caraxes was Prince Daemon Targaryen, the King's younger brother.
And more importantly—
Daemon was Otto Hightower's enemy.
The two men despised one another openly, their rivalry shaping the politics of the realm for years. Two years earlier, Otto had been dismissed as Hand of the King for overstepping his authority on the matter of succession.
Since then, the Hightowers' influence in King's Landing had waned.
Only Alicent's children kept their position secure.
In five years, she had given Viserys two sons and a daughter, fulfilling the king's long obsession with male heirs. Though Otto was gone, Alicent's place in the Red Keep remained strong.
Still, Daemon's presence unsettled her.
Aegon noticed her tension.
He reached out and gently took her hand, stopping her nervous habit.
"Mother," he said quietly, "did you know you pick at your fingers when you're anxious?"
Alicent froze.
She stared at her son in surprise.
She had always known this habit—but she had never thought he noticed.
Seeing her confusion, Aegon sighed inwardly.
Too naive, he thought.
"If I can notice it," he continued softly, "then others can as well. Grandfather has been dismissed. You must appear strong. We cannot let anyone believe we are easy to push aside."
Alicent's eyes widened.
Then understanding dawned.
She squeezed Aegon's hand, a mix of relief and gratitude washing over her face. Straightening her back, she composed herself, her gentle and dignified smile returning.
---
While mother and son whispered, Prince Daemon approached the Iron Throne.
Two Kingsguard knights instantly stepped forward, swords drawn.
Viserys remained seated.
Though age had softened his body, the authority of a king still rested in his gaze.
"You wear a crown," Viserys said calmly. "Do you mean to declare yourself king?"
Daemon stopped.
Without argument, he knelt.
He cast the crown and captured weapons before the throne.
"After conquering the Stepstones, they named me King of the Narrow Sea," Daemon said. "But there is only one true king. You."
He bowed his head.
"I offer you the crown—and the Stepstones. They are yours."
For a moment, silence reigned.
Then Viserys smiled.
Relief flickered across his face as he descended the steps, lifting his brother to his feet. He returned the crown and embraced Daemon, kissing his cheeks in welcome.
The brothers were reconciled.
The crowd erupted.
Nobles cheered. Commoners shouted. The loudest voice among them belonged to Princess Rhaenyra, whose joy was unmistakable.
She rushed forward, begging her uncle to remain.
Aegon clapped along with the rest.
But in his eyes, a different light flickered.
What a touching reunion, he thought.
Too bad it won't last.
In less than half a year, Daemon would be exiled again.
"Remember," Alicent whispered to him, "he is your enemy too."
Aegon said nothing.
He continued clapping until the applause faded.
In this world, appearances mattered.
And Aegon Targaryen had already learned one vital rule:
Reveal too little, and you are ignored.
Reveal too much, and you are destroyed.
For now—
He would wait.