Dragon's flame

Year 106 AC

Where am I? The question echoed in my mind as I awoke, the fog of confusion clouding my thoughts. I remember the warmth of my bed in the Red Keep, Daenerys beside me. Yet, the moment I opened my eyes, the world felt different. A thick fog surrounded me, cloaking everything in mystery. All I could make out was the silhouette of a large structure looming in the distance.

Wait… I can see!?

A sudden voice cut through the fog. "Who are you?!" It was a man's voice—commanding and deep. I spun around, heart racing. And there, before me, stood Maegor fucking Targaryen, the legendary king of fire and blood, holding Blackfyre in his hand.

"Who are you, child?" His gaze was sharp, almost as if I were a threat to him.

"I am Aelyx Targaryen... The son of King Viserys of House Targaryen..." I spoke with certainty, my voice carrying more weight than one might expect from a child of my years.

Maegor's eyes narrowed, disbelief creeping across his face. "Liar. There is no Aelyx, nor a Viserys in House Targaryen," he growled, his tone dismissive but not unkind.

"Not yet," I replied quietly, but with conviction. "There will be, in the future..Ancestor"

He took a step back, his expression flickering with shock. "Ancestor?" he asked, his voice cracking with confusion.

I took a deep breath and began recounting the events that had led to this moment. I spoke of his death, Jaehaerys's ascension to the throne, and how Viserys would eventually take the crown. I told him of the rebellion, of the fractured Targaryen family... And policies of the current king of house targaryen.

As I spoke, I watched Maegor's eyes shift. At first, there was a hardness, a steel resolve. But as the story unfolded, something softened in him. His usual ferocity seemed to wane, replaced by a trace of sorrow. He stared at me for a long moment, contemplating my words, and then, for the first time, his face betrayed a hint of sadness. The Maegor I had heard so much about, the fearsome conqueror, seemed… human.

"From what you say," he said slowly, "a civil war is coming."

I nodded, impressed for him to come to a conclusion so quickly...

His gaze darkened as if he was once again weighing the future. "And what will you do, child? How will you stop this war?" His voice was suddenly laced with a strange mixture of curiosity and resignation.

I didn't hesitate. "I don't know. But I will try. I have to."

Maegor studied me, his gaze flickering between pity and something else—perhaps respect. After a long pause, he spoke again. "The situation will change quickly. What I say now may not serve you in the future. But I can train you—train you to adapt, to become strong enough to face what's coming."

I felt a flicker of doubt in my chest, but curiosity outweighed it. Maegor Targaryen, the infamous king, was offering to train me. Was this a blessing or a curse?

He then studied me closely, as though looking for something. "You don't have a dragon, do you?"

"No…" I muttered, feeling a pang of shame. Dragons were the lifeblood of House Targaryen, and without one, what did I truly have?

"Don't tame a young dragon in the midst of a civil war," Maegor advised, his voice grave. "It is a disadvantage. A dragon too young lacks the power and control needed for such a time."

I knew he spoke the truth. But the thought of taming a full-grown dragon, one as fierce and untamable as Vhagar, filled me with trepidation. Could I truly do it? Could I command such a beast?

His voice broke through my thoughts. "Claim Vhagar."

"What?" I gasped, disbelief clear in my voice. "Vhagar? The largest dragon in my time?"

"Yes," Maegor said, his eyes gleaming with purpose. "Vhagar has lived through many wars. She is the only one capable of shaping the future of this realm. She alone has the power to stop what is coming."

My mind raced. Laena Velaryon had claimed Vhagar in the original timeline. But this wasn't that timeline. Daenerys and I were proof of that. Could I truly claim her? Could I, a mere child, conquer a dragon of her magnitude? I felt a mixture of fear and awe grip me.

Maegor's gaze was unwavering. "You must become the Targaryen you were born to be. From this day forward, I will train you—not just in the art of war, but in the rituals of our bloodline. Through blood and fire, you will rise."

Blood rituals? The words hit me like a stone, cold and heavy. I had heard whispers of such practices, dark rites that could strengthen the bond between Targaryens and dragons. But was I truly ready for such a thing?

Before I could ask any more, the world seemed to blur around me. The vision faded, and I was suddenly awake. I was back in my bed, next to Daenerys, my skin drenched in sweat, my heart pounding in my chest.

"What happened?" Daenerys asked, her voice resonating in my mind. We spoke this way to avoid suspicion, to keep our secret safe from those who might label us as demons or abominations.

"A dream," I whispered, though the weight of it lingered. The memories were too vivid, too real to simply dismiss as a mere fantasy. Had it been real? Had Maegor Targaryen truly spoken to me?

Days passed, and my life returned to its usual routine. Daenerys continued to read to me, helping me develop my mind and senses, while I focused on strengthening my abilities to perceive the world around me. But as time went on, I noticed the growing distance between us and our father, King Viserys.

Viserys Targaryen, now married to Alicent Hightower, seemed to forget the very children he had once doted on. Daenerys and I no longer called him "father," for he had stopped visiting us after his marriage. We were abandoned, left to fend for ourselves in the cold halls of the Red Keep. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra flew high above, tending to her dragons, leaving her duties—and her family—behind.

[In the Private Chambers of the King]

"I would like you and cousin Rhaenys to foster Aelyx and Daenerys," King Viserys said in a firm, almost desperate tone.

Corlys and Rhaenys exchanged looks, both surprised by the sudden request. They had assumed Viserys summoned them to discuss his troubled marriage and the growing tensions between their houses, particularly House Velaryon and the crown. But they did not expect this.

"It would be an honor," Rhaenys replied, her voice calm but with a knowing glance toward Corlys, who had been about to speak. She gave his hand a firm squeeze, signaling him to hold his tongue.

Corlys nodded, his face tight with concern. He was aware of the rift forming between the crown and House Velaryon, and this request, though seemingly harmless, was another piece in the puzzle of Viserys's weakened rule. But before he could voice his thoughts, he brought up the matter of the Stepstones, his voice urgent.

"Your grace," Corlys said, his tone serious. "The Stepstones are in peril. Daemon and I are preparing to march, and we require the crown's support."

Viserys's expression darkened as he heard this. The Stepstones were a constant thorn in his side, but the weight of his other responsibilities was pressing down on him. The unrest in the realm was only growing, and the future of his family seemed more uncertain with each passing day. His children, once the center of his world, now felt like distant figures in a kingdom on the brink of collapse.

But he had no choice. He needed the Velaryons' loyalty, especially with the looming threat of civil war. His family's future—and the future of the realm—depended on alliances forged in both blood and fire. But as he looked around the room, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that nothing would be enough to prevent the chaos that was already on the horizon.