Chapter 1 and 2
The Dragon's Gambit
In the shadowed halls of Dragonstone, where the sea crashed eternally against black basalt cliffs and the air smelled of salt and sulfur, a man named Elias awoke in a body that was not his own.
Or rather, he remembered awakening. One moment he had been dying in a sterile hospital bed in the 21st century—cancer eating him from the inside, monitors beeping their futile requiem. The next, a voice had echoed in the void: an ancient system, cold and mechanical, offering a bargain. Survive. Evolve. Rebirth through bloodline. Choose your vessel.
He had chosen recklessly. A royal guard in the service of House Targaryen, during the Conquest. Lowborn muscle, sworn to protect the dragonlords. But the system had whispered promises: Plant the seed. Forge the line. Reborn in descendants of power.
Now, Elias inhabited the body of Garrick Stone—a bastard name, fitting for a man of no consequence. Tall, broad-shouldered, with callused hands from years wielding a spear for the Targaryen siblings. His new memories flooded in: oaths sworn to Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. Rhaenys—the youngest, the fire-hearted, rider of Meraxes. Wife and sister to the Conqueror.
The system hummed in his mind like a dormant engine. [Host: Garrick Stone. Bloodline Purity: 0%. Objective: Infuse Targaryen Essence. Reward: Rebirth Cycle Unlocked.]
He knew the risk. Seduce a queen? Aegon would feed him to Balerion for the insult. Visenya would carve him open herself. But the system demanded it. To be reborn in a descendant who could claim dragons, thrones—he needed Valyrian blood in his veins. Or rather, in hers, through him.
The opportunity came during a storm-ravaged night on Dragonstone. Aegon and Visenya had flown to the mainland on dragonback, leaving Rhaenys to hold the fortress. She paced the great hall, her silver-gold hair unbound, violet eyes flashing with impatience. Meraxes roared from the cliffs below, echoing her unrest.
Garrick was assigned to her personal guard that eve. He stood silent in the antechamber to her solar, heart pounding with borrowed resolve. The system pinged: [Opportunity Detected. Charisma Boost Activated: +20%. Risk Assessment: High. Potential Reward: Dragonlord Lineage.]
He knocked softly. "My queen? The winds howl fierce. Do you require anything?"
Rhaenys turned, her gown of crimson silk clinging to her lithe form like dragon scales. She was beautiful—fierce and untamed, not the fragile flower of later Targaryen queens. "Enter, Garrick. Wine. And company, perhaps. The storm makes ghosts of my thoughts."
He poured Arbor red into a goblet, his hands steady despite the storm in his chest. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed. She did not pull away.
"You've served us well," she said, sipping slowly. "A lowborn man with the heart of a warrior. What drives you, truly?"
The system whispered: [Suggest Truth. Partial Disclosure.]
Elias—Garrick—met her gaze. "Ambition, my queen. In another life, I dreamed of greater things. Of blood that commands fire."
She laughed, low and throaty. "All men dream of that. But you… you look at me as if you see more than a conqueror's wife."
The wine flowed. Stories spilled—hers of Valyria's lost glories, his carefully woven tales of "visions" from a distant world, hints of knowledge beyond Westeros. The system enhanced his words: [Persuasion Overlay: Active.]
Thunder cracked outside. Rhaenys set her goblet down, eyes darkening with something primal. "The blood of the dragon runs hot, Garrick. Aegon is away. Show me this ambition of yours."
It was a command, not a request. But in her voice, desire burned true.
He took the risk.
Garrick stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. She did not resist—her mouth met his with the ferocity of Meraxes in flight. Her hands tore at his tunic, nails raking his skin as if claiming territory. He lifted her onto the oaken table, maps of Westeros scattering like fallen kingdoms.
Her gown parted like silk wings. He entered her with deliberate force, their bodies slamming together in rhythm with the storm. Rhaenys gasped, arching against him, her legs wrapping around his waist like chains of Valyrian steel. "Harder," she demanded, violet eyes locked on his. "Make me feel it."
The system thrummed: [Union Initiated. Genetic Infusion: Progressing.]
He drove deeper, hands gripping her hips, leaving bruises that would fade like secrets. She rode him from above, silver hair whipping wild, breasts heaving with each thrust. Sweat slicked their skin; the air filled with her moans and his grunts.
When release came, it was cataclysmic. Garrick spilled inside her—hot, copious, the system's boost ensuring potency. [Seed Implanted. Conception Probability: 87%. Bloodline Upgrade: Valyrian Infusion Detected.]
Rhaenys collapsed against him, breathing ragged, a satisfied smile curling her lips. "You took a risk, guard. But the dragon approves."
He dressed quickly, heart racing. Aegon would return soon. But the deed was done.
Months later, as the Conquest raged, Rhaenys swelled with child. Whispers in the camp called it Aegon's—another Targaryen heir. But Garrick knew. The system confirmed: [Descendant Line Secured. Rebirth Option: Unlocked in Heir's Body.]
The boy was born amid dragonfire and war cries. Named Aenys? No—in this twisted thread of fate, the child was stronger, fiercer. A dragonlord from bastard seed.
Garrick died in battle, arrow through the throat in Dorne. But death was not the end.
The system activated: [Rebirth Cycle: Engage.]
Elias awoke again—in the body of his son. Violet-eyed, silver-haired. Rider of dragons. Future king.
The gamble had paid. The line would endure. And he would conquer, reborn eternal.