With a bright, sunny smile, Aegon waved to the assembled members of the royal family as he approached.
He moved from one royal to the next, offering his greetings.
"Grandmother Visenya, I hope you are well."
Aegon bowed slightly, gracefully taking Visenya's hand and pressing a light kiss to it.
"My dragon prince is as warm as ever. You must come to your grandmother's palace more often," Visenya said with a gentle smile.
Aegon cast a casual glance at the chip's scan results and sighed inwardly—Visenya had indeed awakened.
"Grandmother Rhaenys, I hope you are well."
With the same courteous manner and a sincere smile, Aegon greeted her in turn.
Following the same process, he discreetly scanned every member of the royal family with the chip. For the women, he offered either a cheek-to-cheek greeting or a kiss on the hand; for the men, it was a handshake or an embrace.
By the end of his round of greetings, he had confirmed that, aside from Rhaena, all of Rhaenys's bloodline were dragonborn. Jaehaerys and Alysanne, however, though transplantees, had not yet awakened.
That alone made Aegon view them differently—after all, to resist the overwhelming urge to consume entrails and to keep living on human food as bland and joyless as sawdust required a willpower far beyond that of ordinary people.
For the moment, every gaze in the Dragonpit was fixed on the Dragon Prince.
Today, Aegon was unusually outgoing, moving easily among the crowd, exchanging warm greetings and pleasant conversation with each royal present.
Maegor, watching from the side, grew darker and darker in expression. With half of Rhaenys's blood in his veins and having been raised under Rhaena's care, could his son have been swayed to her side?
The Targaryen dynasty had split cleanly into two factions.
One was Rhaenys's camp, guided by divine authority. Members of this faction favored silver-white robes in the style of septons and largely worshipped the Seven—thus they were known as the White Party.
The other was the Red Party, led by Dowager Queen Visenya and King Maegor, composed mostly of the realm's great lords. They preferred the traditional black-and-red noble attire of King Maegor himself, and so the Targaryens called them the Red Party.
The two factions fought endlessly for power within the realm, locked in an even match.
The Red Party had only two adult King-tier Dragons—Vhagar and the Cannibal—and two dragonborn.
The name "dragonborn" came from the Targaryen royal family's distinctive golden, dragon-like eyes, and the extraordinary strength that set them far above common men. Yet the people of Westeros did not know that once awakened, dragonborn—true dragon demons—fed on the entrails of their own kind.
The White Party boasted five dragons: Rhaenys's Meraxes, young Aegon's Quicksilver, Rhaena's Dreamfyre, Jaehaerys's Vermithor, and Alysanne's Silverwing. They also had five dragonborn. But of these dragons, only Meraxes was fully grown—Quicksilver was a young adult, and the remaining three were juveniles.
Among the five dragonborn of the White Party, only three had awakened.
Queen Visenya had once fought both Rhaenys and young Aegon at the Sept of the Seven, defeating them even while outnumbered. Even after losing her sight, the balance between the factions held—only because the White Party had two unawakened dragonborn, while the Red Party's King Maegor possessed deep, unpredictable power after his own awakening.
Once Aegon had greeted all present, he finally turned to his father.
Maegor's smile emerged only when he saw his son had not neglected him.
Throwing back the dark-red cloak from his shoulders, he called out to the Dragonkeepers in the pit below, "Bring out all the unclaimed dragons!"
Led forward by the master of ceremonies, Aegon walked steadily toward the front of the viewing platform.
As he passed Jaehaerys, the latter spoke in a low voice.
"After you've tamed your dragon, how about we share a drink?"
"Gladly," Aegon replied with a faint smile, tilting his head slightly toward him.
Jaehaerys's mouth curved upward in a small nod.
Just then, Aegon's two sisters were led forward. They nestled close—one on each side.
Aerea, likely overwhelmed by the eyes of the crowd, gripped Aegon's finger so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Rhaella, by contrast, wore a confident smile, clearly savoring the attention. She stood tall, chest out, her eyes fixed on the Dragonpit platform atop Rhaenys's Hill.
The Dragonpit of King's Landing, personally designed by Aegon the Conqueror, was unlike any other. It had no dome and no enclosing walls, instead consisting of an open platform ringed by watchtowers.
On the platform lay many caves, much like those in Valyria's own dragonpit, their depths reaching into the earth to where the geothermal heat so beloved by dragons pulsed from below.
Several open-air dragon nests had also been built along the slopes of Rhaenys's Hill, for not all King-tier Dragons preferred to dwell in caves.
Dreamfyre and Dreamshade, for example—two dragons with unusual scales—favored damp, humid environments. Beneath Rhaenys's Hill lay an artificial lake, and it was there that Dreamfyre had made her lair.
Of all the construction projects in King's Landing, the Dragonpit on Rhaenys's Hill was the grandest and the last to be completed. Aegon had spared no expense in resources, gold, or manpower to create the perfect home for the dragons.
The Dragonkeepers herded a group of live cattle and sheep onto the Dragonpit's platform. Then, with a loud blast from their feeding horns, they signaled the feast.
One by one, dragons emerged—some crawling slowly from the caves, some swooping in from the mountainside, and others bursting up from the lake before landing on the platform.
Over a dozen dragons crowded together, jostling and snapping as they fought over the livestock.
Balerion stood at the center. The other dragons kept their distance—he was the Dragonlord, the undisputed king of all dragons here.
Below the viewing platform, the gathered Targaryen nobles and courtiers watched in awe. The sight of the feeding was shocking enough, but Balerion's massive, imposing form drew their eyes and commanded their respect.
Aegon fixed his gaze on the colossal black beast.
Balerion's scales had darkened to a matte black, his body showing the marks of age. This was the same dragon that had flown with House Targaryen from the Valyrian Peninsula to Westeros, and now he had entered his twilight years.
Aegon felt a pang of regret. This might well be the last time Balerion served House Targaryen.
The dragon's hide was beginning to crease, his scales mottled and dulled. Yet he still radiated the majesty of a Dragonlord. His five-meter-long skull bore four great horns—two sweeping back, the other two angling upward to either side. His protruding jaw was like forged steel, glinting with a metallic sheen.
The feeding was brutally violent. Some cattle were seized by two dragons at once, ripped apart alive in a savage tug-of-war.
Aerea clung to Aegon's arm, trembling.
She was shy and timid by nature, reminding him of his eldest son Aenys from his previous life. But in a girl, that frailty inspired tenderness rather than frustration.
Aegon drew her into his arms, gently stroking her silvery hair.
"Don't be afraid," he murmured. "They are the companions, brothers, and sisters of the Targaryen royal line, not mindless beasts."
At that moment, the silver dragon mark on Aegon's brow grew warm. He knew instantly—Dreamscar's [Revelation] had come again.
In his mind, the silver dream-energy of Daenys began to stir, slowly condensing into a vision.
…
[In the skies above the ruins of fourteen active volcanoes, Aerea rode on Balerion's back, circling.
Her face was pale with fear as she looked down at the wandering dragon corpses below. Smoke like the claws of devils raged through the sky, coiling toward Balerion. Within the dark clouds, countless worm-like creatures with teeth swarmed and flew.
From this high vantage, at the center of the volcanoes rose a pillar of flesh and blood—upon it stood a giant over three meters tall, reaching out a massive hand toward Balerion.]
…
Aegon was stunned. He had never expected that in this foreseen future, Aerea would be the one to tame Balerion—nor that she would ride him all the way to the Valyrian Peninsula.
And she would even see her own demigod form.
His mind raced.
If Aerea encountered her true self in Valyria—and he was there to protect her—then she should be safe enough. And if so… could he perhaps reclaim some of his own power from his true form?
Aerea pressed her face deeper into his chest, sobbing.
"Big brother, can I not have a dragon? I can't tame it… it'll eat me."
Aegon rubbed her back in slow, calming strokes.
Then he eased her back, crouched to wipe the tears from her cheeks, and met her teary violet eyes with a warm, steady gaze.
"Each of us has a fate, Aerea, set by the heavens. Some are born to rule, others to roam as outlaws.
If the road you walk isn't one you chose for yourself, then no one can say where it will end—or who you will meet along the way."
Aerea sniffled, staring at his golden eyes in confusion.
"Aerea doesn't understand."
Aegon ruffled her shining hair and smiled.
"It means this—because we were born into the Dragonlord's family, we are bound to the dragons by destiny. At the crossroads of fate—like this moment, choosing your dragon—you must follow your heart. If you don't, your future will be impossible to foresee."
Aerea only blinked, still too young to fully grasp her brother's words.
Just then…
The master of ceremonies bowed to the prince and princesses.
"The dragons have been fed. This is when their guard is at its lowest. Prince, Princesses, you may now proceed to tame them."
Aegon gave a small nod, then took each of his sisters by the hand and led them down from the viewing platform toward the great expanse of Rhaenys's Hill.
Since the viewing platform was already built halfway up the slope, it took only a short walk for them to reach the Dragonpit's main platform.
Aegon noticed that the Dragonkeepers had driven all the owned dragons toward the far corners.
Only five remained in the center—among them the most feared and revered in Westeros, the Black Dread, Balerion.
As they neared the cluster of unclaimed dragons, Rhaella suddenly pulled her hand free from Aegon's and ran straight toward Balerion.
On the viewing platform, the gathered Targaryens tensed instinctively.
Maegor, seated on the throne, leaned forward slightly without realizing it.
Queen Rhaenys and her eldest daughter Rhaena exchanged a look; Rhaenys gave a faint smile, and Rhaena answered with a small nod.
Little Aegon clenched his fists tight, his eyes fixed on Rhaella as she drew ever closer to the great black dragon.
...
Down on the platform, Aegon made no move to stop her—if his guess was right…
Balerion lowered his colossal head and opened his cavernous jaws toward the small girl, the black fire in his throat swelling into a molten sphere.
The heat curled Rhaella's silver hair. She stared in disbelief at the dragon's aggressive stance, her legs shaking so hard she could barely stand.
Up on the platform, reactions split along faction lines.
Queen Rhaenys shut her eyes, unwilling to watch further.
Maegor, by contrast, relaxed back into his throne. The corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest hint of satisfaction.
Little Aegon's jaw tightened; his canines lengthened into sharp points, and the muscles of his face began to twist and distort.
Jaehaerys saw the change and quietly pulled his sister Alysanne farther away from him.
Jaehaerys had always been quick to sense danger. Back in Harrenhal, he had been the first among Rhaenys's faction to realize their father, Aenys, was a man-eater. In the two days after aiding Emperor Aegon at Harrenhal, he had hidden alone for safety.
Queen Rhaenys struck the base of her papal scepter against the ground with a sharp crack, a cold hum escaping her lips. In an instant, a wave of magical force surged toward Little Aegon.
Warned by his grandmother's strike, his anger ebbed. He drew his magic back into himself, features smoothing until he once more wore the delicate, handsome face of a prince.
Dowager Queen Visenya turned her head slightly. The winged helm that hid her eyes tilted toward him, and a crushing aura rolled across the platform. Little Aegon felt the chill sink into his bones and, without thinking, stepped two paces closer to Queen Rhaenys.
...
On the Dragonpit platform below, Aegon took Aerea by the hand and moved toward Balerion.
They passed Rhaella, stepping between her and the looming dragon.
The black flame in Balerion's throat faded away. He closed his jaws and cocked his massive head to the side, studying Aegon with a curious eye.
Something about the boy felt familiar. Though Balerion had never encountered mental strength quite like Aegon's before, his true spirit carried an echo of the dragon's former master.
Balerion's mental field unfurled—a clear sign he was willing to form a spiritual bond.
Aegon and Aerea were both within its reach, yet Aegon quickly realized that Aerea was linking with Balerion faster than he could.
So, in this life, her spirit must be better attuned to his.
Mental power came from the fusion of body and soul; perhaps his current body simply wasn't as suited to Balerion.
Aegon accepted it without frustration—he had another plan in mind.
If Aerea was destined to ride a dragon to the Valyrian Peninsula, then she could bring back a dragon egg from his true body. Tiamat was a demigod now; her offspring would be in no way inferior to Balerion.
"Brother… I'm scared. Something's holding on to me," Aerea cried, her whole body trembling in terror.
Aegon released her hand and smiled.
"This is the legacy of our house—the dragons. Feel it, accept it, and become a dragonrider, little sister."
Aerea turned to look at him.
Under the steady encouragement in his gaze, she slowly stepped toward Balerion.
Maegor suddenly rose from the throne, eyes widening as his daughter succeeded in forming a bond with the Black Dread. Nearly every royal present stared at Aerea in stunned disbelief.
No one had imagined that timid, fearful Aerea would be the one to claim Balerion.
Balerion folded one massive wing downward, lowering it to her feet and forming a long, sloping ramp.
Aerea glanced back at her brother. Aegon lifted a hand, signaling her to mount. She bit her lip and nodded firmly.
Using both hands and feet, she began climbing up the leathery ramp toward the saddle on his back.
She slipped and fell more than once, but kept going, determined, until she finally reached the saddle.
In that moment, hundreds of courtiers on the viewing platform erupted into cheers.
They rejoiced that Balerion—the living symbol of Targaryen royal power—had a new rider, and even the royals themselves found themselves clapping for her.
On the platform, Rhaella's mouth hung slightly open in shock.
'My timid, cowardly sister… so lucky she's tamed the Dragonlord of House Targaryen.'
Roar!
Balerion's thunderous cry shook the hill as he spread his vast wings. With a running leap from the Dragonpit platform, he carried Princess Aerea high into the sky.
Aegon smiled, head tilted back, watching his sister soar.
But as Balerion climbed higher and began drifting farther from King's Landing, that smile slowly stiffened.
The royal family and Targaryen ministers looked on in alarm as the Black Dread carried Princess Aerea over Blackwater Bay and vanished into the horizon.
Only then did the royal family realize something had gone wrong.
Balerion was not obeying Aerea—or perhaps the young princess simply had no idea how to control him.
Those royals who had dragons mounted at once and gave chase.
But as the mightiest dragon of the age, Balerion flew far faster than any pursuer. The royal flight scoured the route over Blackwater Bay but found no trace.
When King Maegor passed Driftmark and Dragonstone, he questioned the locals. Both islanders confirmed they had seen the Black Dread—and that he had flown east, toward the Summer Sea.
At once, every Targaryen present understood.
Balerion's path led straight toward the ruins of Valyria.
...
My name is Aerea, a newly bonded dragonrider of House Targaryen.
I was born a princess of the Targaryen dynasty.
At first, I only wished to live like any other royal—learning court etiquette, then marrying the prince I loved.
But this world… is not as simple as it seems.
Everyone has a fate, written in the heavens.
Some are born to rule, others to fall into shadow.
If the road beneath your feet is not one you chose yourself, then no one can say where it will end.
Where you go, who you meet—nothing is certain.
And I… am now walking a path with no known destination.
Because on that day… I saw the true king.
...
This island was nothing but a barren, deathly ruin.
Balerion and I had flown for months across endless ocean before reaching it.
On the journey, he would hunt sea beasts for me to eat. I had never eaten raw flesh before—but thankfully, Balerion would roast it for me. By living on those sea creatures, I survived.
Eventually, we reached a ruined city, its skyline choked in smoke.
Balerion flew deeper into the haze, as if answering some distant call.
Behind us, swarms of strange insects pursued relentlessly; ahead, rotting dragon corpses crawling with maggots barred our way. Balerion fought them, tearing through every obstacle.
Past the city lay a ring of mountains, the land here even more desolate. Broken limbs of creatures I could not name littered the ground.
When a horde of putrid, half-decayed monsters surrounded us, several massive whips of flesh lashed down from the sky, scattering them.
Following the whips to their source, Balerion brought me before a massive metal blossom blooming from a pillar of living flesh.
At its center, upon a metal throne, sat a giant over three meters tall.
He seemed the ruler of this ruin—seated high above, watching over his domain.
I asked him, "Who are you?"
The god-king answered, "You may call me… the Elder."
...
[Upto 20 chapters ahead for now]
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