ASOIAF/GOT Fire, Blood, and Valyrian Steel (ASOIAF SI)

[BlackDragon98]

And now I am fleeing once again, from the darkness that seeks to consume me.

Such is life in 2021.
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Author's notes:
Internal monologue in the SI's head is in italics.
Single words in italics are used for emphasis.
IMPORTANT NOTE; THIS VERSION IS DIFFERENT THAN THE AH.COM VERSION, AS IT HAS BEEN EDITED AND IMPROVED. Just saying.
Disclaimer: ASOIAF and all related works are the property of George RR Martin. I am writing this in direct defiance of his stance on fanfiction because he’s taking literally forever with “Winds of Winter” and I bet I can finish my fic before he publishes “Winds of Winter”. I however, claim possession of the characters that I have created. This also counts as fair use.

The Ethereal Plane
48AC

"Sister, our champion is dead. And this time, he isn’t coming back"

"Dead? What do you mean? He still has Balerion and those lordlings of his can rustle up some 4000 men. That’s more than enough to destroy those traitorous fools who’ve sworn themselves to his brother's half-grown whelp. Vermithor, Silverwing, and Dreamfyre altogether are but hatchlings compared to Balerion.”

“Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

“No, no, no, no . . NO! DAMN IT ALL! FUCK!”

“His mind was already slipping away from him. Whatever Tyanna did to revive him, it depended on her continued survival. Without her presence, his mind has begun to decay. That greedy Pentoshi whore has the last laugh.”

“Brother? Sister? What’s going on?”

“Our demise.”

“Our demise? What are you talking about?”

“Take a look for yourself, Sister dearest. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well . . . shit.”

“Visenya’s perfect son! The savior of the dragonlords! The messiah that would raise a new Valyria from the ashes of the Freehold! And now he’s a pile of dead meat on that stupid prickly chair! ARRGGHHH!”

“I told you we shouldn’t have lavished so much of our powers on the child!”

“And not grant Visenya’s only wish? She alone held faith with us when her brother and sister converted to those seven freaks.”

“She wasn’t our only worshipper with dragonblood in her veins, Brother. That Lyseni family was more pure of blood than the Targaryens.” (1)

“And now they’re all dead thanks to your stupid gamble. We could have protected them, Sister.”

“The girl still lives, Brother.”

“She won’t survive very long. Once her captors realize she managed to poison her womb, they’ll dispose of her. We should have devoted more of our attention and power to that Lyseni family rather than throw all our eggs into one basket.”

“So what do we do now Sisters? Twiddle our thumbs and await our eventual demise?”

“No Brother. We cannot surrender, not while we still have enough energy for one final gamble.”

“Only to have it turn out the same way as your Sister’s gamble?”

“Hey, I did what I could al-”

“Shut up! Both of you! Will you stop arguing like children and listen for a minute?”

“Yes Sister.”

“You have my attention Sister. Go ahead.”

“We take the mind of this man here and place it inside Maegor’s body, right before the palfrey incident occurs.”

"Is this a jape, Sister? Because I assure you that this half-grown boy won’t last for more than a year. If only the dragonlords had been a bit more humble and listened to our warnings, we wouldn’t have come to this despicable point. Transporting a mortal from a different world to save our skins. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!”

“This champion of mine counts nine and ten namedays Brother. That is most clearly-”

“Not a grown man. We require a veteran officer, skilled in personal combat with ample experience commanding large formations in battle. This boy does not fulfill any of those requirements.”

“His understanding of our world and the things to come make up for his lack of experience. This also means he’s more adaptable, for a veteran commander would rely on his experiences and be less open to new ideas. Just because he’s in the reserves doesn’t make him a bad commander. Plenty of good commanders from his world have started out from the reserves.”

“Good point Sister. But what do we do with Maegor’s consciousness?”

“We take it and dispose of it, Sister. Though . . . we could leave behind some trace amounts. Some of the ruthless savagery and utter brutality he possessed can still be of use as we mold my champion.”

“Ugh. I still think this isn’t a good idea. I mean, just look at him Sister. He looks like a broken mess down there. Every other bone in his body has been shattered.”

“It was a long drop, Brother. Or have you forgotten that mortals are quite fragile compared to us?”

“That’s not the point, Sister. The fall was not an accident, it was deliberate sabotage. If your champion is to survive, then he’ll have to be better than this.”

“Not a problem, Brother. Unlike Maegor, my champion is both cunning and wise, in his own way. Visenya will see the potential in him at first glance. She’ll rectify whatever shortcomings he possesses and make sure he’s ready to face whatever life has to throw at him. With some training and guidance from us, he’ll be capable of beating down whatever the multi-faced motherfucker has up his greasy sleeves. His descendants will be more than enough to suppress the abominable icemen and destroy him if necessary.”

“This plan of yours has given me inspiration Sister. What say we pair up him and the girl?”

“While it’s nice of you to play matchmaker for Sister’s champion, I really think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”

“I suppose this means you’re supporting my plan now Brother?”

“What else can I do Sister? Sit and wait for us to fade away into dust?”

“Shall I summon our brothers and sisters now that the three of us have agreed on our heading?”

“Go ahead. And tell them to hurry. My champion isn’t going to last much longer.”

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Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone
20 AC

The last thing I remember seeing clearly was the plain, white ceiling of my hospital room, everything beginning to become blurred and muddled. Yells and shouts of the hospital personnel were mingled with the rapid beeping of various medical devices. My vision dimmed it was just as I had suspected. I was dying. The odd thing was, it wasn't as painful as I'd expected it to be; there was surprisingly little pain as the last sensations of feeling flowed out from my shattered body. All I could see was a faint glow and then, nothing at all. Out of the blue, I felt something different. Bizarre things started happening to me as I floated through the endless abyss of nothingness. (2)

A thousand foreign memories flew into my mind. I saw dozens of people who I should have recognized, a fortress construed of black stone upon a volcanic island that felt like home, and a man fighting me with a sword before it all faded to black once again.

I slowly awoke to voices calling a strange name. My head was still fuzzy and I couldn't hear them clearly. I'm alive again! Fuck yeah!

Gradually, the fuzziness faded and I opened my eyes slowly.
The first thing I saw was some dude in big grey robes with greying hair and a jangling metal chain leaning over my bed; a dozen servants in attendance.

"Prince Maegor, are you alright? Can you hear me?"

"Wha..Wha...What happened? Wh...Whe...Where am I?"

"My Prince, you are in your chambers right now. You collapsed right after a training bout with Ser Gawen."

"T-Training? Di...Did I take a hit to the head? And who is . . . Ser Gawen?"

"No, my Prince, you did not and that is what vexes me. You were perfectly fine after the bout yet you collapsed only mere moments afterwards when you were putting away your training sword. Thank the Seven that Ser Gawen Corbray, the master-at-arms of Dragonstone, caught you before your head hit the ground. Do you not remember him teaching you swordsmanship for the past three moons?"

"I...I...I do. It's just that the memories are a little fuzzy. Remind me to thank him for catching me Mister..."

"Maester Orland, my Prince." The robed man articulated the word Maester, as if it gave him some special pride to refer to himself as one.

"Yes, as I was saying, remind me to thank him for catching me Maester Orland. Just before you all leave, I have a request to make of you all."

"My ears are all yours, my Prince. I'm sure the servants are listening as well." The dozen servants in attendance bowed their heads briefly in a serious fashion.

"Everyone here must swear to keep this incident a secret and let no one know, especially my mother and father. Do I have your word?"
I emphasized the word "everyone". No one could know what happened, especially not whoever was King and Queen.

"Of course my Prince." pronounced Maester Orland. "The servants here can be trusted as well, my Prince. They live to serve House Targaryen."
The servants nodded as I scanned their faces.
Well, at least one problem has been solved. Now, it's time to figure out who I am.

"Good. Now if you don't mind, can I please have some time alone to recover." Maester Orland and the servants bowed before leaving me alone in my room.

I looked around at my surroundings, which was a room in a building made of stone. It was richly decorated, with brilliant tapestries on the wall and vibrant rugs covering the hard stone floor. My bed was in the lower right corner of the room, which was very large compared to any bedroom I had ever seen before. There was a large door at the top right corner of the room, which was perpendicular to my bed and a large window on my left. A wooden desk and chair was placed right in front of the window and there was a large rectangular chest-of-drawers at the far end of the room with a small strongbox atop the dresser. To the left of the dresser was a large closet and to it's right was a large locked chest; the kind used for traveling.

I rose from my bed, which was as brilliantly decorated as the rest of the room and looked for my boots. They were on the left side of my bed and I quickly put them on to look for clues as to who I am now. My brain began to make sense of my surroundings and situation.
A maester. That means I'm in Westeros. And he called me Prince Maegor, which means there's a 50% chance I'm Maegor the Cruel. Great. Now I just have to confirm which Maegor I am.
I walked over to my desk and looked over the papers strewn about its solid wooden surface.
A letter, recently opened by the looks of it, caught my eye and I grabbed it to take a closer look. It was addressed to Prince Maegor of House Targaryen and the year was 20 AC.

"Oh shit. Oh fucking shit." I slumped into the chair and slouched, feeling utterly overwhelmed.

I was Maegor Targaryen, also known as Maegor the Cruel. The soon-to-be butcher of thousands of innocent people, a soon-to-be kinslayer, and definitely one of the worst Targaryen Kings to ever sit on the Iron Throne. Not to mention the asshole who married 3 young women against their will but couldn't even have one living heir.(3)

I put the letter back on the desk and sighed. Rage was bubbling in my guts and it was mixed with a sense of dread, with a twinge of fear at what I would become.

"Damn my fucked up luck. I fucked up basic officer training because of a stupid injury and now I get inserted into the body of a bloodthirsty and quite possibly insane Targaryen King in Westeros. Who is also the asshole that commits suicide because everyone deserts his cause in the end. Just my wonderfully fucked up luck."(4)

I was ready to start screaming in frustration when a thought popped into my head.
It's 20 AC right now. If I remember correctly, Maegor was born in 12 AC. That means Maegor is now 8 years old. That also means none of the mad shit he did has happened yet. I'm in possession of Maegor's body and I'm in an era where House Targaryen still has dragons. Lots of dragons.

The realization dawned upon me, like a bolt out of the blue.
The fate of Westeros and House Targaryen was right there, within my grasp.
My sullen face quickly brightened up and a large smile crossed my face.

I got up and walked over to my nightstand to pour myself a glass-no, a goblet, of cool water.
Nice and refreshing. Just the way I like it.
The day was still young and there was much to do.
First things first though, time to go find Ser Gawen Corbray and thank him for catching me before my head hit the ground, which would have been seriously painful, if the stone floor of my room was any indicator.
One thing at a time Ste-no. No, no, no. Forget about who you were. That you is lost and gone forever. Now you must become Prince Maegor of the House Targaryen, son of King Aegon I Targaryen and Queen Visenya Targaryen. No one can ever find out about who you were. You are Maegor now. Maegor. Maegor. Maegor.

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Notes:
1. Your ultra-rare spoiler. Treasure it, because it may never happen again.
2. This is the main change from the AH version. They changed his memory so he won’t remember his traumatic death.
3. Tyanna and Alys Harroway don't count because they wanted to marry Maegor and Ceryse was an arranged marriage, so I'm counting the Black Brides.
4. More about who the SI was in his past life will be gradually revealed. No spoilers.

To all my readers on AH.com, I have kept my promise.
FBVS is now up on SB.com
Also, this version of FBVS will be different than the original on AH.com because it will be improved based on the constructive criticism that I have received.
Also, the AO3 version will be updated accordingly so that it is identical to this version.
Hope you enjoy,
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Author's notes:
Disclaimer: ASOIAF and GOT wholly belong to GRRM. I however, claim possession of the characters that I have created fro this fic. Also, this counts as fair use.

Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Tenth day of the Sixth Moon

After figuring out my identity, I decided to look inside a smaller strongbox. I tried using Maegor's memories to remember what was inside, but they were fuzzy and confusing. I couldn't really interpret anything from them and even if I did, I could not understand it. Walking over to the chest-of-drawers, I picked up the small strongbox. It was decorated with various dragon motifs and solidly built; steel and some unknown hardwood.(1) There was a lock on the front of the strongbox.

Hmmm... let's see if Maegor's memories are of any use.

I concentrated for a few moments and then it clicked. I walked over to my nightstand and opened the uppermost drawer. Lo and behold, there it was. A ring with three keys, a big one and two smaller ones.

Three keys? That's not right, I only have two strongboxes. The big one and this little one.

In my confusion, I looked around and saw a large closet I had missed earlier when I scanned my room. It was on the right side of my bed, beside the fireplace that separated it and the door. The closet was made of a dark colored wood, which was probably the reason why I hadn't noticed it earlier.

You idiot, you can't find a large closet in your own room. Some Warrior Prince you are.

Sighing in frustration, I walked over and opened the closet. Inside was a lot of clothes, most of it in red and black. At the top was a small square niche presently occupied by another small strongbox, roughly the size of the other one.

"There you are, you little bugger."

I took the box and placed it on my chest of drawers, setting it down beside the other. Using the two smaller keys on the keyring, I opened both lockboxes. There were some papers inside the first one, a shiny metallic ring bearing the three headed dragon symbol of House Targaryen, and some coinage. I examined the coinage more closely. It seemed there were about a dozen gold dragons, twice the number silver stags, and five copper stars.

"Not bad, a nice bit of spending money." I said aloud. “And a silver Targaryen ring.”(2)

The second lockbox that was stored in the closet yielded some more coinage, mostly stags and stars, and a small silver mirror, though it's biggest prize was a dagger inside it's leather sheath. It was rather simple in design, closely resembled a Fairbairn–Sykes fighting knife in design. A single ruby was inlaid in the pommel, visible from both sides and the hilt seemed to be made of some sort of bone, though it was black as midnight.(3) I took it out of the small strongbox and pulled it out of it's scabbard. The dagger was lighter than expected, though the blade was what startled me. It had the dark, smoky ripples that identified it as Valyrian steel.

Holy shit. How the fuck did Maegor get this? The books only ever mentioned Dark Sister and Blackfyre being in his possession.

Concentrating briefly, I searched through Maegor's memories. A memory of a woman with long braids the color of white gold giving the dagger to Maegor appeared in my mind, which quickly morphed into another, where Maegor embraced the woman in a tight hug after receiving the gift.

So this is how Maegor got the dagger. A gift from his mother, Queen Visenya Targaryen. Or should I say, "my" mother now. Better get used to calling her mother from now on.

Memories of my own mother appeared, though for some strange reason, they were faded and distant. It was as if some of Maegor's memories had supplanted my own. My mind was still trying to process everything when I suddenly realized why I recognized the dagger.

Valyrian steel. And dragonbone is black. A Valyrian steel dagger with a dragonbone hilt. Oh shit.

My blood grew cold at the thought of it. This was the Valyrian steel dagger that belonged to Littlefinger and Joffrey. This was the dagger that was used in the attempt to kill Bran. And here it is now, in my hand, the dagger of destiny. A weapon that would have changed the course of Westerosi history, over 200 years later. (3)

Hmmm, nice and thin. A perfect stabbing weapon, especially considering the fact that it’s literally unbreakable. I should probably keep this on me at all times, tucked in my boot. This damn world is already dangerous enough. And that without considering the small fact that I'm a Targaryen prince.

I slid the dagger back in it's sheath and picked up the mirror. The sight that greeted me was slightly disorienting. I was used to seeing my old face, not the boy that stood before the mirror. The visage that stared back at me was a handsome, rugged face with an elegant jawline, short silver-gold hair, and dark purple eyes, but utterly void of any emotion.

The face of a warrior; a soldier. The face of a boy who would have become the man known as Maegor the Cruel.

I smiled and looked at my face again. A bit better than before, but I still looked far too intimidating, even at such a young age. I thought hard for a few minutes about how I was going to plan out the rest of my day with doing anything stupid.

Visenya and Aegon are probably in King's Landing right now. I've kept any knowledge of the "switch" mostly contained. Let's see what else I need to plan out for the next couple weeks.

I walked over to my desk, sat down, and grabbed a piece of empty parchment. Taking a quill, I began to write out a couple of things that had to be completed before the week's end. Chief on my list was getting a reliable source of news about what was happening outside of Dragonstone. Halfway through my writing however, I hit a problem. A big problem.

Should I get a dragon now, or wait until Aegon kicks the can? The real Maegor waited until his dad died and Balerion was available, but that's him and not me. Plus, my presence might have thrown the whole timeline out of order. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to successfully bond with Balerion even if I do get a chance and the price of failure. . . is not one I’d be willing to pay. Not after what happened to Aerea Targaryen in canon. Hell no. (4)

I put my quill down and pondered the question at length. If I could somehow hatch a dragon egg and raise the hatchling, then I would bond with the dragon from birth, guaranteeing that my efforts would be successful. As well, I remembered reading a passage from “Fire and Blood” about there being many dragon hatchlings when Maegor was young. It would be just like having a puppy, except the hatchling would one day grow up into a massive fire-breathing death lizard capable of laying waste to entire armies. I scribbled something down and made a mental note to visit the library tomorrow for any information on Valyria and dragons.

Taking a small piece of string from a drawer in my desk, I rolled up the piece of parchment, tied it up and placed it in the second strongbox. Afterwards, I locked it and placed it back where I had found it, though not before I took out the Valyrian steel dagger and stuffed it in my boot. Then, I locked the smaller strongbox and cleaned up my desk of the various parchments that littered it's surfaces. They were organized into neat piles and my quills and inkwell were rearranged in an orderly fashion. I walked over to my closet and put on a black and red cloak over top my doublet. The sun was already starting to go down, which meant that the "incident" had happened right before lunch and I had missed it as a result. My stomach growled with hunger.

Better go find Ser Gawen Corbray now, and then get some stuff to eat.

I walked out of my room and closed the door, making a mental note of where my room was located. After exploring the hallway where my room was situated, I began my walk down to the courtyard, using Maegor's memories to guide me. One final hallway and the courtyard lay before me. There were still around a dozen men still sparring in spite of the setting sun. I spotted Ser Gawen putting away his practice blade; he was a slim, muscular man with shoulder length brown hair. Swiftly, I walked over to where he was standing.

"Ser Gawen."

"Ah, Prince Maegor. How's the head?"

"Better than it was, Ser Gawen. You have my gratitude."

"That was merely my duty, Prince Maegor. Will you be able to resume your training tomorrow?"

"Of course, Ser. When shall we begin training?"

"Same as usual, at first light. We'll be working on footwork tomorrow."

"Wonderful. I suppose I'll see you then, Ser Gawen."

"As always, Prince Maegor."

After my first meeting with Ser Gawen Corbray, I headed over to the kitchens to have a servant bring my supper up to my chambers. Normally, I’d be in the mood for socializing, but there were just too many things to comprehend and I needed some alone time. I concentrated on Maegor’s memories, remembering the path to the kitchens. A serving girl was just returning from the dining hall when she saw me and curtsied. Maegor's memories identified her as Violet, one of the local smallfolk that had served and would continue to serve House Targaryen for generations.

"Are you looking for something, Prince Maegor?"

"Yes actually. Do you know what's being served for supper?"

"No, but I could ask the cooks."

"Ask them. I'll be waiting here.”

She hurried into the kitchens while I twiddled my thumbs and I waited, wishing I had something to pass the time with, like a smartphone. In the absence of any time-killing activity, I looked around at the architecture of the corridor. It was made of dragonstone; stone treated with dragonfire, magic spells, and blood sacrifices, if the rumors were to be believed. Torches on the walls lighted up the area, though the light cast long shadows that were both dark and ominous. The sound of Violet's voice drew me from my thoughts.

"Prince Maegor, tonight the cooks made chestnut soup, bread, greens dressed with apples and pine nuts, and honeyed ham. Would you like me to bring it up to your chambers?"

"Yes. And bring an extra bit of that honeyed ham, along with some mead."

"Of course, my Prince."

I turned and walked back up to my room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The sky was darkening outside my window, the last dying rays of daylight vanishing behind the boundless sea that surrounded Dragonstone. Violet returned a few minutes later, carrying a large tray that bore my supper. I nodded my thanks and she curtsied, closing the door on the way out. I picked up the fork and knife that came with the tray and ate. The food was delicious but my mind was elsewhere, thinking of dragons, magic, and how in 14 Hells I was supposed to avoid the shitty destiny that fate had assigned for the body that I now inhabited.

After I finished my meal, I rinsed out my mouth, put on my night clothes and went to bed. But instead of sleeping, I dreamed of dragonriders and sorcerer princes, of golden knights and fair maidens. And little did I know that these were not just dreams, but the shape of things to come.

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This is what I imagine the blade of the dagger would look like, though the grip would be made dragonbone, the crossguard would be of a rounded oval shaped design, and there would be a ruby set in the pommel, visible from both sides. Since it's made of Valyrian steel and dragonbone, the Valyrian blacksmiths could afford to make the blade as thin as possible without compromising it's durability.

1. The unknown wood is ironwood, by the way.

2. It's actually platinum, but the SI doesn't know because silver and platinum look pretty similar.

3. The hilt is made of dragonbone, as the SI later realizes.

4. Here's why the SI chose not to claim Balerion. The potential price of failing is really, really terrible. Like experimental Valyrian torture worms in your body terrible.

And here's the chapter of the week.
Comments and questions are always welcome!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

A long corridor in Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Twenty-fifth day of the Sixth Moon

“It really has been two weeks.” I pondered this aloud as I walked down a vast sandy beach, a private section located at the northern part Dragonstone which was available only to members of House Targaryen.

I’d more or less accepted that I was now Prince Maegor of the House Targaryen, son of King Aegon I Targaryen and Queen Visenya Targaryen, second in line to the Iron Throne. Honestly though, I really couldn’t complain that anything was bad about new life. The food was excellent; a wide range of fresh foodstuffs that the cooks transformed into a variety of delicious dishes. I had a particular taste for the fish and seafood; being an island, fish and seafood served at Dragonstone always consisted of the day’s catch. Castle Dragonstone itself was staffed by a veritable army of servants; all of them at my beck and call. And there was the whole island of Dragonstone for me to explore, from the beaches to the Dragonmont.

I’d taken a few walks down the beaches of Dragonstone and found that most of them were occupied by fishing skiffs. There were however, large sections of beach that were reserved for the Targaryen family. These were mostly on the northeastern side of the island, separated from Dragonstone Castle by a 15 minute horse ride. The rest of the island wasn’t anything interesting, nothing more than fishing villages by the coast and more inland, farming villages. The backwardness of Dragonstone made me wonder about Maegor’s ancestors. Did all the Targaryens before Aegon really feel satisfied ruling over this tiny, backward fiefdom? To leave the shining, topless towers of dragonstone in Valyria for a military fort on the edge of the Empire. No wonder the other dragonlords of the Freehold mocked Aenar for fleeing to Dragonstone. But then again, where are those other dragonlords today?

Peasants bowed their heads when I rode past on my trips to the beach; second son notwithstanding, I was still a Targaryen prince. From what I learned, Aegon and Visenya were both in King’s Landing. This left the castellan, Ser Humphry Bar Emmon, in charge of Castle Dragonstone. I’d met the man the day after my arrival and he proved to be an alright guy, at least by Westerosi standards. Not particularly tall, with faded hair, and a beer gut, Ser Humphry was far from the golden standard in Westerosi knighthood. But what he lacked physically, he made up for in character. Second son of the late Lord Togar Bar Emmon, he was a staunch Targaryen loyalist like his father, who had declared for Aegon at the start of the Conquest before he’d even been declared King of Westeros by Visenya and Rhaenys. He treated me with respect and deference, and was very eager to answer any questions I had about the state of Castle Dragonstone itself. (1)

Turns out, the fortress had some secrets that hadn’t been mentioned in “The World of Ice and Fire”. Among them was the presence of a luxurious, spacious bathing chamber in one of the lower levels that only members of House Targaryen were allowed to enjoy, complete with steam baths and saunas. Though in truth, I doubted that anyone else besides the Targaryens and maybe the Velaryons could tolerate the near scalding water of the subterranean hot baths. I myself found them to be a comfortable temperature, thanks to the innate heat resistance in Maegor's blood. (2)

Martial training came easily to me because of Maegor’s natural abilities and physique, yet his memories were of little assistance, for his formal martial training had begun only 3 months prior to my habitation of his body. Therefore, it was the hand-to-hand combat training from my previous life as an officer in the army reserves that helped me excel in the martial aspect of my education, a fact that I contemplated as I mounted my black palfrey, Blackjack, and rode back to Dragonstone. (3)

My progress in swordsmanship amazed even Ser Gawen, though he didn’t exactly approve of my preference for fighting without a shield. My logic was that a shield created blind spots, wielding a sword with two hands allowed me to throw more force into each strike, and that a shield reduced my mobility. Therefore Ser Gawen had me wield a 4 foot bastard sword instead, which was fit better with my approach to combat. Fast enough to dodge a strike, strong enough to break a defense, and without the blindspots created by a shield. I also incorporated punches and kicks into my fighting style, sometimes using my left hand to grab the shield of my opponents.

Unarmed hand-to-hand combat and wrestling were also part of my martial training. I excelled in them, as expected, using my experiences from my past life to the utmost. I hit harder and faster than most boys my age, whilst avoiding counter-blows from my opponents with ease. Ser Gawen quickly moved me up a few years against boys of 9-10, where I was much more evenly matched. (3)

My academics progressed even faster than my martial training, for I found Maegor’s academic studies to be child’s play. Arithmetics, geometry, economics, warcraft, statecraft; this was all dirt simple to me; an individual from the 21st century. The only bits that were of any difficulty were all the different noble houses I had to learn about and their respective regions, though it was mostly a matter of memorization. Fortunately, Maester Orland only had me memorize the Great Houses and a few other houses of consequence, like House Velaryon, Celtigar, Darklyn, Reyne, Redwyne and others of a similar sort. Dorne was included in my lessons but only in a strategic sense, as if Dorne was still the enemy. When I asked Maester Orland, he told me those were Queen Visenya's explicit orders. I can understand why Visenya would do this. The Dornish killed her sister and most likely tortured her to death. Even now those vipers still haven't returned her body. Fucking snakes. (4)

One of few distinct advantages I gained from Maegor's memories was his fluency in High Valyrian. Visenya herself instructed him in High Valyrian for much of his early years and his fluency in the language reflected her extensive and thorough education in the subject. I was very fluent in pretty much everything besides the most esoteric bits of High Valyrian. The Common Tongue, as I had discovered, was basically an older form of Modern English. I was initially very careful when I opened my mouth for the first few days, so I wouldn’t accidentally sprout Modern English. After the first week however, I pretty much got used to the Common Tongue enough so it wasn’t really much of a problem anymore. I smiled as I rode through Dragonstone’s main gate, with Blackjack at a light trot, until I reached the stables. A stable boy helped me dismount (I’d forgotten how difficult being an 8 year old child was like until now), and then I walked over to stroke Blackjack’s muzzle and then ruffle his mane, a reward for being such an obedient horse. (5)

“See you tomorrow boy.” I gave him one last stroke on his mane and left him in the care of the stableboy as I started my long walk to the library. It was time to go find those books, scrolls, and tomes about dragons, just like I’d planned. I wonder . . . Does the library have books on how to train dragons as well?

“Prince Maegor?” I turned around to see a servant behind me, head bowed in respect.
“What is it?” Right as I was about to go to the library. Can’t these people solve their own problems?

“There’s a man demanding the justice of the dragonlords in the Throne Room, my Prince. And he refuses to leave until his case has been addressed by a member of House Targaryen. . .” He trailed off, because it was evident that I was the only Targaryen on Dragonstone. Aegon and Aenys were on one of Aegon’s seemingly endless royal progresses, while Maegor’s mother Visenya―my mother, sat upon the Iron Throne and ruled the Sev―Six Kingdoms in his stead.

“Very well. Lead the way.” The servant nodded as I followed him across the vast courtyard, into the Great Hall, down a hallway, until I reached the Throne Room. Inside, I could see two men glaring at each other while Ser Humphry sat on a chair in front of the throne, flanked by two House Targaryen men-at-arms. A more careful look revealed that one of the two men wore an outfit identical to the one worn by the men-at-arms.

“All kneel in the presence of Prince Maegor of the House Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone.” announced the servant. Everyone in the Throne Room promptly knelt as I strode into the room, my riding boots clacking on the dragonstone floor.

“You may rise.” I stated, as I walked past Ser Humphry, who was moving his chair back to its original position on the side of the room. The Dragonstone Throne loomed above me as I walked up the steps to the gigantic (compared to 8 years old Maegor) throne of fused black dragonstone, shaped like a dragon with its wings folded over it’s head, the dragon’s head and back being the seat. It was most definitely large enough for 2-4 people to sit on it at once. I’m pretty sure the Targaryens didn’t build Dragonstone, so whoever designed and built this place sure did like to sit with his wives or paramours on the throne. Nothing says “I’m the Big Boss.” like a throne so big you could fuck your wife on it and still have room for your other two wives at the same time. Speaking of throne sex . . . Did Aegon and Rhaenys ever do that? Such were my thoughts when I sat down on the stone cold seat of so many Targaryen Lord Freeholders before me.

“Someone get me two cushions. The throne’s too cold.” A female servant rushed forth with two cushions and I hopped off the throne so she could place them on the seat and backrest, before sitting back down. Much better. A dragon does not like a cold throne.

“So what exactly is the issue here Ser Humphry?”

“Dontos here is complaining that our man-at-arms here took his sister Jeyne’s maidenhead without payment, Prince Maegor.” Well shit. What is it with Westerosi men?

“And what is your name?” I turned to the man in question, a muscular individual with a tanned complexion in his early twenties or late teens.

“Dick Bean, m’lord.” Now that’s a familiar name I didn’t expect to hear. Hmm . . . This’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. His head was hung as he averted his gaze, unwilling to make eye contact.

“How do you plead, Dick Bean? Guilty or innocent?”

“Guilty, m’lord.” At least he's honest. +1 in his favor.

“How old are you and how long have you served House Targaryen?”

“I’m 19 m’lord and I’ve been serving House Targaryen since I was 14. I was sent here from Dragonstone last month, m’lord.” Five years of service. I suppose that does grant him something. I swiveled my head around to Ser Humphry.

“Has he served us loyally, Ser Humphry?”

“Yes, my Prince. His loyalty to House Targaryen is unquestionable.” That makes things easier then.

“All things considered . . . I think a single gold dragon would be the fair value of this girl’s maidenhead.” Dick Bean turned chalk white at the mention of a gold dragon. But fortunately for him, I wasn’t finished yet. “But in light of your years of service to House Targaryen, I shall pay the gold dragon in your stead under the condition that you, Dick Bean, marry Jeyne by the end of this month. Someone, get me a gold dragon.” The Bean let out a sigh of relief, while Dontos held a smug grin on his face. In my world, this piece of trailer trash would have been beaten black and blue. And such is life on Dragonstone.

A servant scuttled out the room, and quickly returned with a small cloth bag with a drawstring. He handed it to me and I examined the dragon. The effigy of Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys, with the head of a dragon on the reverse. I placed the coin back in the bag, tightened the drawstrings and tossed it to Dontos, who failed to catch the bag. It fell to the ground with a thump and he had to bend down to grab it, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room, me included.

“Now that you’ve got your money, begone.” Dontos scuttled out the doors, his face reddened with embarrassment at his failure to catch the bag.

“Dick Bean.” The Targaryen man-at-arms fell to his knees. “I want to see you here tomorrow morning, sometime before noon, with a list of 20 Targaryen men-at-arms stationed on Dragonstone that you would trust with your life. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes m’lord.”

“Then you are dismissed!” The soldier got to his feet and thanked me profusely, before leaving the room. With my duty finished, I got off the throne and walked over to where Ser Humphry was standing.

“I’d like a new set of armor and weapons commissioned for every man on the list after I approve it. In the Valyrian fashion.” The knight bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“It will be done, Prince Maegor. And if you don’t mind me asking, are you creating your own guard troop?”

“A man can never have enough guards, Ser Humphry. Especially the last of the dragonlords.” I smiled as I bid him farewell and began my trek to the Dragonstone Library, a large room in the Stone Drum located one level below the Chamber of the Painted Table. I pushed open the doors to the vast room of ironwood bookshelves and glass paneled display cases. Dragon statues poked out of every edge and corner, accompanied by a host of monstrous creatures. Among them, I recognized basilisks, cockatrices, demons, griffins, hellhounds, manticores, minotaurs, wyverns, and still there were more mythical creatures that I didn’t recognize.

Two dozen shelves made of black hardwood were arranged in two rows of a dozen shelves each. I sighed, not looking forward to having to look through all these shelves to find what I was looking for. This is going to take a while. Fortunately, the numerous books and scrolls that filled the shelves were organized alphabetically, including the 3 shelves that housed all the books and scrolls written in High Valyrian. I got up on the sliding ladder and began looking for anything that mentioned dragons.

An hour later, I was sitting at my desk, a half dozen books and a dozen scrolls with the word "Zaldrīzes" in their titles on my desk. I unrolled the first scroll and started reading. . .

A half hour later, Violet came with a tray bearing my dinner. Today it was mutton chops sauced in honey and cloves, beef-and-barley stew, black bread, beans with squash and onions, and lemon cakes for dessert. I grinned in delight at my dinner before thanking her as always. But today, something was different.

"Jeyne told me what you did for her m'lord and she asked me give you this, Prince of Dragonstone." She handed me a simple, but well-made scarf of black wool. This will come in handy when my dragon is big enough to ride, because it sure as hell is going to be cold up there. (6)

"Give Jeyne my thanks for this wonderful gift, Violet. And thank you for bringing up my dinner, as always." She smiled as she left the room, closing the door behind her. With her departure, I turned my attention to my dinner. One of the best things about this world and my stature as a Targaryen prince was the host of delicious foods that flowed from the kitchens of Dragonstone. The beans with squash and onions was one of my favorite vegetable dishes for some reason and I finished my meal quickly, savoring each bite.

After a while, Violet reappeared to take away the tray and I unrolled the Valyrian scroll I was reading earlier. What I discovered was truly astounding and I was genuinely surprised at how the instructions for hatching a dragon egg were both well written and laconic. I read over the following passage twice and then copied out the incantation on a small piece of parchment that I rolled up and tied with twine before I placed it on a corner of my desk.

“Cut both palms till blood is drawn. Place them both on the egg you intend to hatch and recite the following: I am a Valyrian dragonlord, blood of the dragon and I claim you as my mount. Together we rise, together we fly. Together we fight, together we die. Hear me, creature of fire. Feel our minds, together as one, from this day until our last day. Once the binding words are spoken, a mental link is established between rider and mount. This link is unbreakable, impervious to both dragonhorns and other magics, till the goddess of death claims her due.”

I sat down and contemplated what I had just read before changing into my night clothes and getting ready for bed. Tomorrow I shall hatch a dragon. Tomorrow I shall ascend to the rank of dragonlord. Tomorrow I shall be reborn, body and mind, a Targaryen dragonlord with the Blood of Old Valyria in my veins. I fell into an exhausted sleep as my head hit the pillows, My body rested . . . as my mind dreamed of a bright new dawn.
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Notes:

1. Just some worldbuilding. Based on the stuff from F&B, it would make sense for a less combat fit knight to be made castellan, like how Ser Robert Quince was Dragonstone's castellan during the Dance of Dragons.

2. Romans had their baths, Valyrians have their baths. Except the Valyrian ones are extra hot.

3. Maegor is a combat prodigy, just like how he's described in F&B.

4. Visenya is keeping the hate for Dorne alive. This will have consequences down the road. Also, Maegor has his doubts about what happened to Rhaenys at the Hellholt.

5. A sharp contrast to OTL Maegor stabbing a palfrey to death and slicing the face off a stableboy.

6. Early pilots wore woolen scarves and since riding a dragon is pretty much the same as sitting in a biplane with an open cockpit, I thought a scarf would be a logical touch. BTW, the scarf was already finished and it was meant for Dick Bean (guard duty in the winter on Dragonstone is cold) but she was especially grateful for Maegor's actions.
Maegor Targaryen, a people's prince.

THE STONE DRAGON HAS AWOKEN!
AND HIS REIGN SHALL BE GREAT AND TERRIBLE!

On another note, welcome back dear readers.
FBVS is alive once more and the next (new) chapter is in the works, while I work on fixing up old chapters using constructive criticism I receive.
So if you think something isn't right or you just want to comment, feel free to do so.
Hope you like the new rendition of this chapter!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Off the coast of the Dragonmont, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Twenty-sixth day of the Sixth Moon

"You really want to row all the way to shore, m'lord? The hull of mah skiff is pretty shallow, so sailin’ closer to shore is no problem."

"Thank you for the offer, but I can manage on my own.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag with 6 silver stags inside. “Half a stag for the trip and five for the boat if I don’t make it back for whatever reason.” I handed the bag to the fisherman, who promptly pocketed it.

"I humbly thank ye for your generosity m’lord but are ye really sure 'bout this? I've only been here once and I haven't seen any dragons 'round this part of the 'Mont. It’s probably just a big empty cave." To the untrained observer, the cavernous opening that loomed in front of the little fishing skiff seemed to just be a cave entrance. But the untrained observer couldn’t have felt the power emaciating from the lair, waves of strange energy that made my blood tingle. It called out to me, beckoning me to come forth and enter.

"No harm in trying then, especially if it's empty." I replied, furiously chewing a couple mint leaves I brought for the trip. The strong minty taste helped offset my nerves, which were slowly fraying from the anticipation. The fisherman's cousin and son lowered the rowboat into the water whilst I swallowed the mint and took a sip of mead out of my waterskin. Better. At least my hands don’t feel so jittery anymore.

The voice of the fisherman's son interrupted my thoughts. "Prince Maegor, the rowboat is ready."

I nodded solemnly and clambered over the side of the fishing skiff into the rowboat. The fisherman passed me a couple oars, an unlit torch, and my knapsack. I laid the knapsack horizontally on the bench in front of me and placed the unlit torch beside it. The fisherman's son called out to me as I thrust the oars in their locks and began rowing.

"Best of luck, m'lord."

"Thanks! Just remember to return in an hour!"

The three fishermen waved at me for a few more moments before unfurling the sails of the skiff, returning to their fishing grounds. Meanwhile, I kept rowing towards the small rocky beach until the hull of my rowboat scraped to a halt against sand and pebbles. I grabbed my knapsack and the torch before vaulting over the bow of the rowboat and onto the pebble beach. The large cave opening loomed over me, a yawning darkness. I removed the scroll of parchment containing the hatching instructions from my pocket, along with my dagger. I took off my gloves and then cut my left palm with the dagger until I saw blood. A whispered incantation of High Valyrian promptly lit the blood on fire, which I used to light up the torch before whispering another incantation that put out the flames in an instant, which sealed the knife wound up in the process. Heh, that fire on demand trick sure is handy. I grabbed the now lit torch and stared at the yawning darkness, which was most definitely big enough to fit a dragon. (1)

Well, here goes absolutely nothing. May Balerion light my path and may Vhagar grant me victory. (2)

I swallowed nervously and walked into the cave, the sound of my boots crunching on the stony ground echoing through the passage. As I descended further into the cave, the tingling in my blood grew stronger, as did the temperature of the passage. Torchlight revealed many, many deposits of dragonglass, as the light reflected off the shiny volcanic glass that lay all over the passage.

I surmised that this cave must have been a volcanic vent at some point, the dragonglass being the remnants of the magma that once flowed through this passage. Up ahead I saw the bright flickers of light, but it wasn't just a reflection of my torchlight. There was a small lava pool up head and right beside the lava pool were 3 dragon eggs. They were large eggs, even bigger than the elephant bird egg I had seen in a museum back when I was a kid. The tiny scales that covered the eggs shimmered in the darkness, reflecting the light given off by the glowing lava pool. The leftmost egg was bronze in color with cream colored stripes, the egg in the center was black as midnight with scarlet stripes the color of fresh blood, while the rightmost egg was simply a deep shade of blue. The pulsations were at their strongest right before I saw the eggs, but they faded immediately after I noticed them. (3)

No way . . . Three eggs?

I took a deep breath and untied the scroll of parchment. Staring at the eggs for a moment, I wondered which one I was going to pick. Or more like which one was going to pick me. They all just seemed like regular old eggs to me, except. . . for the one in the middle. It was the black egg, with scarlet stripes the color of fresh blood. I walked over, knelt down and placed both hands on the egg. In that instant, my head began to spin as spots of light started dancing around my eyes. I blinked to clear my vision, only to find that it had gone dark.

Wh-What . . . the . . . hell?

That’s when I saw it. A large dragon, pitch black with red stripes the color of fresh blood flying away from Dragonstone as it headed east across the Narrow Sea. The vision shifted and I saw the same dragon flying to some barren windswept islands, where it landed. Krakens rose out of the sea and the dragon roared in response. The giant squids raised their tentacles in the air and waved them, as the vision turned to black once again.

This time, the vision took me to a sandy beach that bordered a desert, where I watched krakens rise out the ocean and attack a large group of vipers and cobras guarding a gilded cage. Inside the cage was a dragon, bronze in color with cream colored stripes. The krakens and snakes battled fiercely, but it was plain that the krakens were winning. They captured snakes with their tentacles, wrapping them around a snake before they were dragged into the ocean by the krakens. I watched as one particular kraken, a latecomer, rose out of the ocean and managed to assault the gilded cage, breaking it open as the imprisoned dragon rose to her feet and spread her wings as she soared into the big blue sky. The scenery changed again, back to the black and red dragon, except this time it was on a large green island with palm trees and white sand beaches, where two wingless dragons sat beside the black and red dragon as they watched the sunset. The dying rays of the sun made it seem like the sky caught fire and I watched as the wings began growing on the two previously wingless dragons. They nuzzled the black and red dragon affectionately before all three unfolded their wings and took to the sky, flying into the sunset as the vision faded to black. And then, the voice of a young girl began to speak. (4)

"Child of Fire and Blood, Son of the Dragon, Last True Heir of Old Valyria. Heed what you have seen. Find the fallen dragon and release her from her prison, but beware the mummer's dragon that haunts your path. Heed our words, Child of Blood, and your line shall prosper, from now until the end of time itself . . . But ignore them, and this will be your fate and the fate of this world."

I saw an older version of Maegor dead on the Iron Throne, his blood slowly dripping down from his slit wrists. I saw a young girl alone with a huge black dragon in a dark wasteland of fire and ash. I saw dragons swooping and dancing with one another, blasting fire at each other until one fell from the sky, it's heart wrenching screeches growing ever fainter as it plummeted towards the ground. I saw a knight in shining white and gold armor stabbing a king on the Iron Throne as he screamed "BURN THEM ALL!!!". I saw humanoid creatures made of ice with glowing blue eyes marching on King's Landing, an army of rotten corpses following them, the landscape white with snow and ice. And then the voice began again.

"This is the fate of House Targaryen, Westeros, and all the world if you fail your task. Remember child, the fate of millions, born and unborn, rest in your hands. Choose wisely, dragon prince and may you save us all...or die trying."

The voice gradually faded and I slowly opened my eyes again. I was kneeling in front of the dragon eggs, with the black and red one still in my hands. Shakily, I put the egg down, got up, took a swig of mead out of my waterskin and pulled my Valyrian steel dagger out of it's sheath inside my right boot. I scanned the parchment once more and memorized what I had to say. Using my dagger, I cut my palms the same way I had before, until I could see the blood welling out of the cuts. Taking a final breath, I placed both hands on the black and red dragon egg and began reciting the spell in High Valyrian, articulating each and every word. (5)

"I am a Valyrian dragonlord, blood of the dragon and I claim you as my mount. Together we rise, together we fly. Together we fight, together we die. Hear me, creature of fire. Feel our minds, together as one, from this day until our last day."

I felt a searing pain in both my hands as the fresh blood on it began to boil. I clenched my teeth as I received the pain in silence, my hands burning with agony. It was several moments before the pain subsided, just as I heard a cracking sound.

My eyes shot open and there it was, right before my very eyes. The black and red dragon egg had hatched, revealing a young dragon. Almost immediately, I felt something forming within my mind. The link! The ritual actually worked! Yes! HAHA! Lord and Ladies, we got’em!

The young dragon was all black except for scarlet stripes the color of freshly spilled blood that ran all across its body, but they were very prominent on its wings, making them look as if they were soaked in fresh blood. It was the dragon from my vision. It squawked and growled, and I took it as a sign that it wanted to communicate with me via our link. And so, I began my first "conversation" with my newly hatched dragon. I decided to speak in High Valyrian, as that was the language it would most likely understand.

"Alright, I am going to ask you a few questions. Nod your head if your answer is yes and shake your head if your answer is no. First of all, do you understand what I am saying?"

The hatchling nodded briefly and I immediately recognized that it was far more intelligent that I could have ever imagined.

"Second question, are you male or female? Nod if you're male, shake if you're female."

The hatchling nodded earnestly.

"Alrighty, third question. Can dragons change their sex?"

The hatchling shook its head vigorously.

"Trick question, do you understand what I am saying?"

The hatchling nodded earnestly. Dang, he even got my trick. Looks like he isn’t just messing with me by nodding and shaking his head at random.

"Now for the hard one. Are you willing to follow any and every order I give you?"

Again, the hatchling nodded vigorously.

"Now, time for the naming." I thought carefully for a few seconds, compiling a list of potential names in my head.

“Toothless?” The dragon shook its head.

“Ancalagon?” Again, the dragon shook its head. Ok, scratch those two.

“Smaug!” Yet again, the dragon shook its head.

“Deathwing?” Again, my request was denied. Ok, I’m really out of ideas here . . . Wait! I’ve got it!

“Bloodfyre!” The hatchling nodded vigorously this time, letting a shrill screech of approval at my name choice. I smiled at my new dragon, who was prancing around proudly now that he had a name he liked. (6)

"Alright Bloodfyre, give me a few minutes to gather up my stuff. Then we'll get out of this volcanic vent and back to Dragonstone."

Bloodfyre nodded and turned to look at my hands. The blood had evaporated in the ritual, but there weren't even scars when I had cut my palms. Whatever magic the ritual involved had apparently seen fit to heal my hands at the same time. I shrugged, and then took out a cleaning rag from my knapsack. Even though Valyrian steel could never rust or get dull, I still liked to keep my weapons clean.

As I cleaned my dagger, I looked at the other two eggs. They were right where I had placed them, silent and unmoving. In a split second, I made the decision to take the two eggs with me. After I finished cleaning my blood off my Valyrian steel dagger, I sheathed it in my boot, put the other two dragon eggs in my knapsack and threw the knapsack on my back, before grabbing the now extinguished torch.

Then, I turned toward Bloodfyre. He squawked at me, which reminded me that he wasn't really capable of flying just yet. Kneeling down, I extended my right hand and Bloodfyre clambered onto it. I stood up and placed my right hand beside my left shoulder. Bloodfyre understood my intent and crawled from my hand to my left shoulder, where he perched, before letting out a shrill screech that my mental link translated as joy. I looked at the extinguished torch in my left hand before speaking to Bloodfyre again in High Valyrian.

"Mind lighting the torch? The passage gets pretty dark and I'd hate to trip and fall on some sharp dragonglass." Bloodfyre regarded me for a moment before turning to the torch and drawing his head back. His first couple attempts at launching a blast of dragonflame were failures, only producing some smoke and steam, but he was successful on his third attempt.

The color of his dragonfire was a bright scarlet, the same color as the stripes on his wings and body, with streams of black flame entwined in it. I marveled momentarily at how awe-inspiring his dragonflame was, before realizing that he had lit the torch already and that he was now staring at me. Laughing, the two of us continued our walk out of the volcanic vent.

After we exited the cave, I looked out to the sea. The fishing skiff that I had arrived here had returned, bobbing lazily some ways off the beach. I could see the 3 fishermen waving at me, and I waved back. After extinguishing the torch, I put all my stuff in the rowboat and let Bloodfyre crawl into the boat as well. Then, I pushed the boat off the beach before jumping in. After getting the boat turned around, I started rowing back the fishing skiff.

The fisherman, his son, and his cousin cheered as I clambered back onboard the skiff. As the fisherman and his cousin hauled the rowboat aboard, his son asked me a question.

"I beg your pardon m’lord, but why is the dragon riding on your shoulder? Aren't you supposed to be riding on the dragon?

"That might take a few years, but for now, he's riding on my shoulder." I replied with a laugh. "Hey, I'll be riding on him for many more years than he's going to be sitting on my shoulder. It's only fair that he gets to sit on my shoulder for a while. A dragon doesn’t grow up in a day, just like how a kingdom isn’t forged in a day either."

The fisherman's son nodded before asking another question. "Can I pet him?"

I looked at Bloodfyre, who looked back at me and craned his head down, allowing the boy to pet him. The kid, who was about the same age as me, marveled at his achievement and quickly ran to tell his father and uncle about what he had just done. I laughed as I leaned on the side of the skiff, enjoying the sunset on the open sea as we sailed back to the port of Dragonstone.
****************************************************************************************************************************************
Notes:

1. The blood magic has begun. Let the blood flow.

2. Does anyone want me to release a info-chapter about the Valyrian pantheon of gods and goddesses?

3. The dragon eggs in the show were way too small to be realistic. So I made them bigger.

4. The prophecy reveals some of the later chapters, if you can decipher them.

5. Every ritual comes with its benefits and its consequences. Just sayin'.

6. Bloodfyre rejected all of your suggestions, not me.

Two chapters in a day.
It was Good Friday so I though it would make sense to get the dragon hatching out of the way.
Comments, questions and likes are always welcome!
Hope you like the new rendition of this chapter!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Port of Dragonstone, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Twenty-sixth day of the Seventh Moon

"What is it, Bloodfyre?"

My dragon, currently the size of a small dog, sat perched on my left shoulder as he frantically nudged my neck, trying to get my attention. I scratched him behind the horns before looking to see what had gotten his attention. He pointed his snout towards the left, at a sizeable codfish that lay amid a rack of other fresh fish and seafood. It was just after midday, and a few fishing skiffs had returned from the fishing grounds to sell their catch while it was still fresh.

"Not now Bloodfyre, we'll go fishing later today. There will be lots of fish when I’m done."

My assurances seem to have placated him and he calmed down again, curling up on my shoulder once more. I walked down the docks towards a merchant cog of the Velaryon trading fleet that had arrived late last night, the Lady Valaena.(1) Some crewmen were unloading crates and rolling barrels while others secured ropes and rigging. The captain was on deck with a piece of paper in his left hand, talking with a sailor who I assumed was his first mate. The first mate noticed my presence almost immediately and quickly got the captain's attention. The captain nodded to his first mate and hurried down the gangplank to greet me. He was a short man with long silver hair tied up in a man-bun, a thin suntanned face, and deep blue eyes; typical Valyrian features. (2)

“Prince Maegor, how are you on this fine day?"

"Very well Captain Prestan. I trust that the winds and waves have been kind to you since we last spoke?"

"Exceeding so, my Prince. Hence my early arrival." He smiled as he watched Bloodfyre dozing on my left shoulder. "It seems like you have become a dragonrider since our last conversation my Prince."

"More like a dragon carrier, Captain. It will be at least a few years before I am able to fly around Westeros on Bloodfyre." I stroked Bloodfyre and he made a rumbling noise in his throat that sounded like amusement.

"Bloodfyre. A fine name for a fine dragon, my Prince." The captain turned to yell an order to the crew.

"Would you mind if we continued our conversation in my cabin? It would be unwise if our words were overheard by the wrong ears.”

"Of course not. Lead on, Captain."

He nodded and started up the gangplank, as I trailed behind him. We entered a door under the quarterdeck that was held open by the first mate, who bowed as I walked past before closing the door. The captain poured two goblets of mead from a barrel in the left corner and offered one to me, which I graciously accepted before taking a seat in one of the two chairs that stood before the captain's desk. Captain Prestan took a seat as well, but then reached down and pulled something out of a drawer in his desk.

"Here it is, my Prince. The Myrish eye that you commissioned during our last meeting."

He handed the cloth-wrapped package over to me. I unwrapped it and removed it from it's black leather carry case and uncapped it before I fully extended the 4.5 inch metal cylinder to it's full length of 15 inches. It was made from a unique alloy that had been gilded with platinum, with a grip made of black sharkskin leather. The leather carrying case was made of sharkskin dyed black as well and there was a loop on the case that allowed me to string my belt through it. Overall, an elegant yet highly practical tool, well worth the 20 gold dragons that it cost and the 5 silver stags I had thrown in for the captain. (3)

"Will you excuse me for a second here, Captain? I wish to test how capable this far-eye real is."

Prestan nodded as he took a sip of his mead. I left the cabin and ascended the quarterdeck by way of a wooden staircase. A small fishing skiff was on the horizon, so I raised my spyglass, and put my eye to the lens. I was genuinely surprised at the quality of the glass, for I could see the fishermen on the skiff very clearly. Closer inspection of the spyglass itself revealed that the glass was smooth and free of any blemish or imperfection in its entirety. Huh. Not made for a medieval society. Definitely worth it.

I put away my new spyglass and strung the case through my belt before walking back to the captain's cabin. After sitting down once again, I took a long sip of mead before continuing my conversation with Captain Presten.

For the next couple hours, I inquired about the demand for dragonglass in the Free Cities and where they were getting their current supply. As I had previously suspected, the sole exporter of dragonglass in any significant quantities was Asshai. However, Captain Prestan explained that the cost of dragonglass was extremely high despite a low demand. The sheer distance between Asshai and the Free Cities that processed the dragonglass into jewelry, statuettes, and other decorations was the nucleus of the problem. (4)

A shipment of dragonglass could easily be sunk in a storm or captured by pirates based out of the Stepstones or Basilisk Isles, which meant that the jewelers would have to wait for the next shipment; another 9 months if it did arrive at all. The cannibals of Skagos were also known to trade dragonglass, but few would even consider going there, on account of their cannibalism and the fierce storms that raged around the island. If unicorns did live there, they’d be man-eating unicorns.(5)

Trading with wildlings beyond the Wall was another option, but I soon learned that the Night’s Watch in the reign of Aegon I was not something to scoff at, unlike the decrepit penal colony that Jon Snow joined in the era of Baratheons. Eastwatch had an actual fleet of ships manned by over 600 black brothers and the only goods Free Folk wanted were weapons and armor; cargo that would see smugglers executed and their cargo confiscated if they were caught by the Night’s Watch. (6)

On the other hand, there was Dragonstone. Less than a week of sailing away from the Free Cities and the dragonglass here was a renewable resource because Dragonmont was an active volcano. I had already hired a few local farmers to scout out the sides of the Dragonmont for large deposits of dragonglass and then mine some of it, but not before swearing them to absolute secrecy. This dragonglass business was to be my secret source of revenue (because I was set to inherit next to nothing). And it was something I intended to keep a secret; the sole exception being Maegor's mother Visenya. I surmised that she was the only person I could trust. A mother’s love is unconditional, as they say.

And thus, with the conclusion of my conversation with the good captain, 2 crates of freshly mined dragonglass were loaded onto his ship. He toasted to the success of our business, as we drained our cups.

"So the profit is to be split in 5 equal shares, with one share going to me and the crew while the rest belonging to you, Prince Maegor." He took out a piece of paper and did some calculations before looking up at me. "This is incredibly generous of you, my Prince, considering just how much profit there’s to be had from dragonglass."

"It's not just the shipping I pay for Captain, but your secrecy as well. No one is to know about the content of the crates except you and the buyers. The source of the dragonglass is to be kept hidden as well, lest my kingly father gets wind of my little business."

"Tis' true, my Prince. This business of ours will remain secret as long as you deem it necessary. And believe me when I say I'll take this secret to my grave." The captain smiled as he contemplated the gold dragons he would earn from this one trip, just as his first mate hollered something outside. We got up and left the cabin, returning to a much cleaner main deck now that the crew was almost done with the loading.

"And that's the final barrel. With luck, we'll be here less than a week from now, Prince Maegor." The captain nodded to his first mate, who began yelling orders at the crew.

"Good luck, Captain Prestan. May your voyage be blessed with swift winds and calm seas." I shook hands with the captain, left the ship, and mounted Blackjack. By the time we got back to the castle, Bloodfyre had started screeching in agitation at me again.

"Be patient Bloodfyre, we're still going fishing. I just have to get the new fish hooks from the blacksmiths."

He calmed down, but I could still feel his agitation in my mind. The mental link was by far the most interesting result of the ritual because it allowed me and Bloodfyre to communicate our thoughts and emotions to one another without saying a single word.

According to the Valyrian scroll, the link was not limited by distance, which meant that I could remotely ask him to provide airborne flamethrower support while I lead my armies from the ground in the future. I smiled at the thought, until Bloodfyre started yelling into my mind that he wanted fish. I laughed in response as I dismounted and walked to Dragonstone's forge, while he gave me an annoyed huff and went back to snoozing on my shoulder.

Some hours later...

I was fishing from a rowboat as Bloodfyre perched on the sides when I saw it from a distance, what seemed to be a tiny dark speck in the sky. By this point I had already caught a dozen mackerel along with 3 sablefish and I was casting my line out one last time before rowing back. In my old life I was an avid angler, with experience fishing for both saltwater and freshwater species. After talking to a few local fishermen, I learned that the waters off Dragonstone were some of the most bountiful fishing grounds of Blackwater Bay, with a variety of fish and other marine life. It was like a dream come true for an angler like me; a vast, unspoiled fishing ground that was right next to my home.

As Prince of Dragonstone I could do almost anything, whenever I pleased, provided that I finished my martial training in the morning, and my studies after noon. Despite the added difficulty from having to deal with Roman numerals, I continuously excelled in my studies. Apparently the Valyrians used Roman numerals and the Westerosi, for lack of a better solution, adopted them as well. I contemplated introducing Arabic numerals but decided against it for the time being. Since no one here knows about Arabic numerals, I could easily turn them into a cypher. Each letter of the alphabet is replaced by a number, and the fool who reads it without the decrypter would be none the wiser.

Despite my superiority in math, science, and pretty much every other academic, I was hesitant to do any sort of technological uplifting beyond inventing the sandwich. Throw in ice cream, milkshakes, and a toothbrush for afterwards. That’s all I’m giving to this world. In a dog-eat-dog world like Planetos, there were no such things as patents, which meant that knowledge of certain technologies had to be kept a closely guarded secret unless you wanted them used against you. And that was incredibly hard to do when you’re surrounded by so many people. Then again, I barely know anything about old fashioned technology beyond a compass and maybe a few other things. Uplifting really is harder than they describe it in the stories, especially when you know nothing. (7)

Therefore, I turned my attention to magic. Bloodfyre’s hatching through the ritual meant that magic was still running strong in the world of Planetos. Maegor’s Targaryen bloodline meant that my magic ability was much stronger than most, especially in the realms of fire and blood magic. Not to mention Maegor’s mother Visenya was one of the last Targaryens with any real skill or experience in good old fashioned Valyrian magic. And I was fluent in High Valyrian, the language which was used in all forms of pyro-magics and blood magics.

Unsurprisingly, I found magic to be as easy as expected and I could perform several simple but useful tricks after a mere three weeks of studying them. One of the most practical examples of magic I learned was the conjuration of flames using my blood as the fuel source.

How I came to learn this ritual was actually a complete accident. I had stumbled upon the scroll containing the ritual whilst looking for information on dragon behavior and training a week before Bloodfyre’s hatching. Disregarding all caution, I performed the blood ritual and it worked like a charm. The blood that welled up from the cut in my palm I had made with my Valyrian steel dagger instantly turned to flames after I’d finished the incantation.

I was both surprised and shocked by how successful my first attempt was. After I had more or less gotten over my initial shock, I quickly spoke the following incantation, which magically and instantaneously extinguished the fire, sealing the wound as the flames vanished. Strangely, I could not find a scar where I had cut my palm. From that day onward, I vowed to spend at least 2-3 hours a day studying magic and the arcane arts. All of that culminated in Bloodfyre’s hatching, my greatest success in the realms of Valyrian sorcery. (8)

As I reflected on my new magic tricks, I failed to notice the line growing tighter on my fishing rod until a sudden screech by Bloodfyre knocked me out of my thoughts and back into reality. Reacting swiftly, I jerked the rod back hard and with a smooth sweeping motion, pulled in my catch. It was a silvery, squirming mackerel, which I promptly placed in the large wicker creel that sat in the stern of the rowboat and then closed the lid. Should be enough for the day.

With the last fish caught, I stowed my rod away and cleaned my hands with a rag before taking out my shiny new spyglass. Uncapping it, I extended it to it's full length, pointed it at the small dark speck in the sky and then put my eye to the lens. Unsurprisingly, the small dark speck turned out to be a dragon, red and bronze in color.

Balerion is midnight-black, so it can't be him and Aegon. Quicksilver is white, so that can't be him and Aenys. Meraxes and Rhaenys are dead, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t an alternate world where they survived Hellholt. That only leaves one last possibility, Vhagar and Visenya. Or as I should say, my mother. Gotta keep up the act at least. Hmmmm . . . Looks like she’s coming in fast. Better start rowing or I’m gonna be late.

With that, I put away my spyglass, set the oars in their locks and began rowing back to Dragonstone.
****************************************************************************************************

1. Typical naming practices.

2. There are more Valyrian looking people in the lands ruled by the Narrow Sea Houses (Targaryen, Velaryon, and Celtigar) that anywhere else in Westeros for obvious reasons.

3. Telescopes are useful. And it's a good way to test the amount of science and tech Planetos currently possesses.

4. Makes sense right? And given this is not too long after a pirate fleet from the Basilisks sacked Tall Trees Town in the Summer Isles, it would make sense for piracy to be at a high point, at least in the Basilisk Isles.

5. Another bit from the books. Skagos is dangerous and the people there are known to be isolationist cannibals. Not good for trade.

6. I'd expect the Night's Watch to still be strong, unlike the lousy penal colony that Jon Snow joined in 298AC.

7. Magic and Politics. Love and War. These are the things that will make up this fic. Tech uplifts aren't realistic unless you're an engineering or designer. Which the SI is not, for he's a businessman and a officer in the army reserve. Do expect the sandwiches, ice cream, toothbrushes, and compasses to start showing up soon though.

8. There are many theories surrounding Maegor, but my headcanon is that Visenya, paranoid over her child being weak like Aenys was as a kid, overdid the magic supplements. This caused Maegor to be supercharged with magic to the point that he's unable to have living kids with anyone not of dragonblood. (He was married to Rhaena for less than a year BTW).


This was originally a longer chapter but I felt it was better to chop it in two.
Also, the first chapter has been updated, especially where the Valyrian Pantheon discuss their plans. I tried to make them sound like actual gods and goddesses rather than angsty edgelords.
Tell me what you think about this improvement.

Also, I've commissioned art for Visenya and Vhagar.
If y'all end up liking it, I'd commission more art and you can vote who or what you from my story you want drawn.

Comments, questions and likes are always welcome!
Hope you like the new rendition of this chapter!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Port of Dragonstone, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Twenty-sixth day of the Seventh Moon

The little rowboat ground to a halt upon the rock-studded beach. I grabbed the oars, took them out of the oarlocks and placed them in the bottom of the hull. In the meantime, Bloodfyre flapped his wings and flew out of the rowboat. He was now staring down a hermit crab, unsure whether it was a meal or not.

“Leave the crab, Bloodfyre. I doubt he’ll be much of a meal anyway.” My dragon stared at the hermit crab for a little longer before he lost interest.

Meanwhile, I pushed the rowboat into a small cave and took out the creel, before covering the boat with a large canvas tarp that I’d stored inside the cave. (1)

“Alright Bloodfyre, the boat’s secured and covered. Hop onto the creel and let’s get back to Dragonstone before my mother lands in the courtyard.” Obedient to my command, Bloodfyre flapped his wings and flew up onto the top of the creel, where he curled up. The creel had shoulder straps, so I put it on like a backpack and began walking up the hidden trail back to Fortress Dragonstone.

House Targaryen sentries at the front gate came to rigid attention when I came close enough, despite my peasant garb, wicker creel full of fish on my back and a fishing rod in my right hand. No fisherman has a fire-breathing dragon snoozing on top of their creel except this one. I stopped after I reached a rather secluded corner in the courtyard. Bloodfyre jumped off the top of the creel and glided to a halt on the ground. I opened the creel and took half a dozen mackerel and a sablefish out of the creel, which I laid on the ground for Bloodfyre; his pre-dinner snack.

"Stay here until I get back, Bloodfyre. No flying around, no burning things down, and definitely no scaring people. Got it?"

Bloodfyre nodded eagerly, proceeding to roast one of the mackerel with his flames and then devoured the freshly grilled fish in one big gulp. I chuckled, walking over to the kitchen where I told the head cook about the dinner arrangements after I unloaded the burden from my back.

"Queen Visenya will be here tonight. Adjust the plans for dinner accordingly, but make sure to include the fish. Understood?"

"Yes, Prince Maegor." The cook bowed his head in respect and hurried back into the kitchen, yelling at some scullions to hurry up and bring the creel of fish inside.

After informing the cooks about dinner, I hurried to my chambers and ordered a servant I encountered along the way to bring me a red shirt, black leather jerkin, black trousers (like the type worn by Dothraki horselords), my black leather belt with its silver Targaryen sigil buckle, a pair of red socks, and a clean pair of leather riding boots in black. I really should get one of those Victorian era bells they used to summon servants. And maybe the cowboy hat - the Stetson. Dragonriders with cowboy hats in the wild, wild land of Westeros. (2)

I told him to bring it to the lava heated bathing chamber in the lower levels of the castle, to which he bowed before hurrying away to complete the task I had given him. While the servant scurried off to do my bidding, I put away my fishing rod in a corner of my room and then locked the door to my chambers, before heading down to the steam baths. Normally, I would take time to enjoy the hot baths, which were heated up by molten lava from the Dragonmont itself, but today I was in a hurry and chose to bath quickly, scrubbing myself clean with soap and a brush.

Still, I had time to reflect on the wonderful innovation that Maegor's Valyrian ancestors had made on this volcanic isle. Dragonstone’s bath chamber was a massive room made of dragonstone, and it was garishly decorated like the rest of the castle. Gargoyles, dragons, and a host of other mythical creatures gripping torches in their clawed hands. The darkness of the dragonstone seemed to suck the light out of the flaming torches, giving the room an eerie feel. Whoever built this place probably thought it was romantic instead of eerie, the perfect place to enjoy life with his 4 wives. Probably the same guy who built the dragon-shaped throne big enough to fit all his lovers on it along with himself.

There were 3 bathing pools (each of which were bigger than a large backyard pool) with water temperatures ranging from warm to scalding hot, depending on the bath. Each bath had steps that lead into the bath with rails on the sides, much like a swimming pool. Strangely, I had acquired a taste for scalding hot baths despite my distaste for hot water in my old life. Must be Maegor's magical dragonblood. Daenerys Targaryen liked her baths scalding hot and she could barely be considered Targaryen by current standards. Seems the whole “blood of the dragon” business might have some truth to it after all. I just hope my future kids don’t come out looking like some anime dragongirl. (3)

After my bath, I dried myself with a towel and put on the clean clothes and the new belt I had ordered the servant to carry to the bathing chambers. The servant took away my dirty clothes to have them cleaned and I walked back to the courtyard to greet Maegor's mother. Or is she my mother now? I can't tell Visenya about the switch. Knowing that her only son has now been invaded by a foreign entity . . . Any sane person would go mad, not to mention a mother watching her only son disappearing before her eyes. And her marriage with Aegon has fallen apart, so Maegor is the only person that really matters to her anymore. Though I will say, have the coolest female Targaryen as your mother is pretty nice. Guess I better start acting the part then.

I took a deep breath and continued walking towards the courtyard, through hallways, corridors, and down several staircases. I turned one final corner and entered the massive courtyard. All I could see was a massive maroon and bronze color dragon in the courtyard. She was staring down at Bloodfyre, who was craning his neck upwards and staring at the massive she-dragon before they touched snouts. Bloodfyre must be the son of Vhagar and Balerion. The black is from Balerion and the red is from Vhagar. Wait a second . . . Maegor is the son of Aegon and Visenya, the riders of Balerion and Vhagar, respectively. This must be fate. The timeline has already changed for me and everyone else. I hope it’s for the better and not for the worse.

Vhagar’s rider had her back turned towards me and judging by the presence of Ser Humphry beside her, she’s probably getting a status update from him. I walk towards them, my pace slow and unsure at first. You can trust her. A mother’s love is unconditional.

I quicken my pace and I’m about 5 metres away when Ser Humphry notices me and gets the Queen’s attention. She turns around and I get my first look at the Queen Visenya of House Targaryen, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Dragonriding Warrior Queen of Westeros, and Founder of the Kingsguard. Though she was already 50 years old at this time, she still looked like a woman in late 30s, maybe early 40s at the latest. Magic youth restoring ritual confirmed. Maegor’s mom is a sorceress.

Her long, silver-gold hair was draped around her head in a crown braid that ran down her back and her forehead was adored by a thin silver circlet; studded with little rubies. She was beautiful, no doubt, but I saw that there was an edge to her beauty. High cheekbones, full lips, an elegant nose and stylish eyebrows furrowed with concern decorated a sharp, angular face. She wasn’t as pale as I’d expected a Valyrian to be, probably from all the martial training and outdoor activity she underwent in her youth. The black leather dragonriding outfit she wore accentuated her full bosom and curveous thighs. I notice a sword hanging at her left hip; by the flame shaped pommel in gold, wavy golden crossguard, and the elliptic ruby set in the middle of the crossguard, I surmised that the sword in question was Dark Sister, House Targaryen’s Valyrian steel longsword, originally designed for a female warrior.

Shocked at how real she looked (I was staring at a legendary figure of House Targaryen after all), I froze in place for a couple moments. Visenya stared at me as well; an unreadable look on her face. Well shit. Time to pull a trick from my right sleeve.

I shook myself out of my stupor and walked right up to her before wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug that she immediately reciprocated. Just then, I felt a strange tingling in my mind. Maegor’s memories of growing up with his mother flooded into my mind. I remembered growing up on Dragonstone. Being raised by Visenya herself, whose love and warmth were a sharp, drastic contrast to the cold, stoic warrior queen that everyone else saw. I recalled the nameday gift she gave me when I was 3. It was a finely carved wooden shortsword that I had promptly named “Blackfyre” and started swinging around like it was the real deal, hitting one of the kitchen cats on the tail by accident and causing it to flee in panic. Huh, so that’s how that slanderous cat-killing incident originated. Interesting. (4)

I relived my first first dragon ride with her on Vhagar, feeling the wind rush through my hair as I flew with her from Dragonstone to King’s Landing. I remembered her giving the Valyrian steel dagger (currently tucked away in my right boot) to me on my 8th nameday, before kissing my forehead and telling me that she had to go to King's Landing for some time. I remembered asking her why and her sad smile, full of words unsaid.

The sheer emotion . . . I had to fight to push back the tears that would have otherwise come flowing from my eyes.

“You've grown quite a bit in these 3 months, darling.”

“Have I, Mother?”

“Of course you have. However, Ser Humphry tells me that you've done something marvelous while I was gone.” She gestured to Bloodfyre, as he flapped his wings and took flight, landing on my left shoulder.

“About that . . .” I saw a shadow cross her face, but it was gone by the time I realized it was there.

“Maegor, do you remember that story I told you? About what you did when you were but a babe?” My mind immediately answered the question for me, filling itself with the correct memory.

“I remember Mother. The Dornish sent an infiltrator to kill me using vipers. She put the vipers in my crib, but instead of killing me, I’d strangled both snakes in my sleep. When my wet nurse found me, I was awake, playing with the two dead snakes like they were toys.” Upon hearing my story, Visenya embraced me in a tight hug yet again. (5)

“Thank Meleys. I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“What do you mean mother?” Oh shit. Someone’s been talking too much.

“They said after you awoke, you started acting differently. That you excelled in your studies and began to study Valyrian sorcery aside from your usual preferences of fighting and strategy. Tell me son, what exactly caused you to change so much?” Damn it. Someone’s definitely been talking too much. Fortunately, Targaryens get these helpful little nocturnal hints called dragon dreams. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. It technically won’t be a lie as well, if my previous life can be considered a “dream”. (6)

“I had a dream, Mother, of things to come for me and House Targaryen. It was . . .” I sighed. “Can we talk about this another time?”
“Of course Maegor. But I have to ask, how did you come by your dragon? Did you claim him as a hatchling or did you hatch him?” I froze upon hearing the way her question was phrased. Please don’t tell me the warnings came at the end of the scroll!

“I hatched him, Mother.” Bloodfyre squawked and I patted him on the head. “And Bloodfyre has been a good little dragon ever since.” A look of concern filled Visenya’s beautiful face and she furrowed her brows. My blood ran cold at the sight of it. Oh no. The warnings did come at the end of the scroll!

“What happened to me Mother? What did the ritual do to me?”

“Which one did you use?”

“The one from the scroll titled Āzma hen Perzys." Her expression softened and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. (7)

“Where is the scroll right now?”

“In my ro-chambers, on my desk.”

“Very well. That’s where we’re going.” I kept silent but raised an eyebrow. Bloodfyre stared at me like he understood what was going on. I turned to him and nodded.

“Sorry boy. You’re gonna have to stay outside.” I said in High Valyrian. “But hey, at least you have your mom to keep you company!” He made a happy growl in response and flew off my shoulder, landing on top of Vhagar. The she-dragon made a rumbling noise in her throat I interpreted as happiness. She curled up and folded her wings, her son curled up on top of her. (8)

Visenya smiled at the sight and I found myself smiling as well, as we turned and walked towards my chambers. When we reached my room, I unlocked the door and opened it.

"Locking your doors? This isn't like you Maegor."

"No, it's just...I have some delicate materials in my room that I don’t want anyone to know about. I'll explain it all to you at dinner."

We walked over to my desk and I passed her the scroll. Visenya sat down and read the scroll, while I stood right beside her and watched. Time slowed to a crawl and every moment felt like a year. But as it turned out, my fears were unfounded.

“Maegor, did you read the warnings pertaining to the ritual?" Oh shit. The warnings definitely come after the ritual.

“Ummm . . . What warnings? Were they at the end of the scroll?” Visenya nodded sadly, before handing the scroll back to me and turned her head towards the window, looking out at the boundless sea that surrounded Dragonstone. Her face was shrouded by gathering shadows, a mask laced with regret and sadness as she turned towards me.

“Maegor, did you feel different after the ritual?”

“Yes and no. My body feels fine, the way it was before. Though I think the ritual opened up a link in my mind, between Bloodfyre and myself. We can communicate our thoughts and other simple messages through the link, though the link is growing because I can now send more complicated thoughts and messages to him compared to before. Are there any changes that I can’t feel? ”

"Maegor, what I'm about to tell you must never be repeated to anyone."

"Of course mother, It's not like anyone would understand or care."

"This is no jape, Maegor. You must never repeat what I will tell you here to anyone, especially your father." She sighed. "I need your word, Maegor. A vow of secrecy."

"Of course mother.” I took a deep breath. “I, Maegor of House Targaryen, swear that I will take the following information to my grave." Visenya smiled as she unrolled the scroll.

“This ritual you performed has made your connection with your dragon significantly stronger, but it does come at a price, Maegor. One you may not be willing to pay.”

“It can’t be that bad. I haven’t burst into flames or anything yet!”

“No Maegor, it’s not the kind of price you imagine. But it’s just as terrible.” She sighed, and I could sense the regret in voice. “The worst that can possibly happen is the living half of the link insane by the link being violently severed. It says here that a Valyrian dragonrider used this ritual to hatch her dragon became insane after her dragon was killed during one of the Ghiscari Wars. She did not survive for long after her dragon's death either While she lingered, she was screaming incoherently and tearing at her face and hair, so much so that she had to be restrained.” My blood grew cold and my face paled upon hearing the story.

“Conversely, a dragon whose rider was killed by an arrow during a battle went mad, attacking anything and everything in sight without any distinction between friend and foe. It had to be destroyed by the other dragonriders present and though they managed to kill it quickly, it still cost the Freehold over 1000 men, dead or wounded. Because of this, the Freehold eventually forbade anyone from practicing the ritual and they exiled those who refused to Gogossos. The potential cost was just too steep a price to pay.” (9)

“Why did they not destroy every copy of the ritual? The ritual can't be praticed if no one knows about it?”

“Oh they tried, though they never succeeded and the Freehold was content with their purges. Some defiant sorcerers and dragonriders managed to copy the ritual down as part of wider books and scrolls, in order to preserve this knowledge. Now tell me Maegor, what do you know of your Aunt Rhaenys?”

“Well, uhh... You did tell me once that she loved to fly more than anything. But what does that have to do with this ritual? Unless..." I paused to contemplate the possibility, before lowering my voice to a whisper. "Aunt Rhaenys performed the ritual with Meraxes?”

“Yes, though I was the one who found the scroll." Visenya shook her head. "I warned her not to, of the risks... But she was adamant that I help her and I did. I was there when she cut her palms, placed her bloody palms on Meraxes's head, and spoke the words. They were inseparable after that moment, dragon and rider had become one, heart, mind, and soul. Now do you understand why I was concerned when you told me about the ritual?”

“Yes Mother. I do have a question though.”

“Go ahead.”

“Does Meraxes being bigger than Vhagar have anything to do with the ritual?”

“It does. The ritual also accelerates the growth of a dragon, though at what rate, we do not know.” (10)

“Then what happens if one of us dies naturally, like from old age? Will the other still go mad?”

“No, if the link can be severed peacefully if one side is on the verge of death by speaking an incantation, which is at the very end of the scroll." I unrolled the scroll to the very end, and sure enough, there it was, the words of severance.

“I just wish I was there to guide you when you claimed your dragon.” I knew from my readings in my last life that after the initial Conquest, Visenya sat the Iron Throne and ruled over the nation while Aegon and Rhaenys flew Westeros around on their dragons for 6 months at a time on a royal progress. Visenya kept Maegor on Dragonstone to keep him safe from the stinking viper pit that was King's Landing. Such were the words she left unspoken. (11)

"It's alright mother, I understand. I'll make sure to be very careful when I'm flying with Bloodfyre."

“Bloodfyre.”She mused upon the word a few moments before giving her verdict. “You chose well Maegor. A fine name for a fine dragon.” She chuckled. “And a play on the words of our House, no less.”

Visenya smiled at me and put her hand on my shoulder before looking out the window again, where the sun had begun setting, sinking into the sea and setting fire to the sky with it's dying rays. "Maegor, now how about you tell me about your dream?"

“That is something best discussed over dinner, Mother. I already told the cooks to prepare a private dinner for us.”

“Good. We'll go to my solar and eat there.” My mother got up from the chair, rolled up the scroll and put it back on my desk before heading towards the door to my chambers.

“Right now?”

"Yes, unless you prefer to go to sleep without dinner." With that, I followed her out the door, but not before taking out the key and locking my chambers.

After walking through several corridors and up a set of turnpike stairs, we arrived at my mother's solar. She had told a servant we passed to have our dinner be brought up to the room. As I walked through the door into Visenya's solar, I couldn't help but be amazed at its size and the amount of books and scrolls and various Valyrian artifacts that stood upon shelves that lined the walls. The sole piece of art in the room was a tapestry on a wall that depicted her single-handed conquest of the Vale, a bloodless victory unrivaled by anything else in the Conquest. (12)

We sat down as the servants brought our dinner to us, upon trays. The main course was the mackerel and sablefish I had caught earlier today, grilled and served upon greens. There was also a dish of turnips, peas, and beets as well as a plate of black bread and honey cakes. Along came a pitcher filled with wine that I suspected to be Arbor Gold, along with another pitcher of iced lemon water, something I enjoyed in my old life. My mother dismissed the servants after the dishes had been served and the last one out closed the door.

"You've decided to do some fishing today?"

"Yes Mother. Apparently Bloodfyre has acquired a taste for seafood and I decided to indulge him today." That prompted a chuckle from my mother, who took a sip of her wine and began to eat.

"Now, why don't you tell me about your dream?" I took a sip of lemon water and a deep breath. Here we go.

1.5 Hours Later . . .

“And all this happened because you married Ceryse Hightower?” Visenya was sipping at her Arbor Gold, for we had finished our meal, and coincidentally, I had finished telling her my “dream”. Though in truth, I hadn’t told her the whole thing. Instead, I ended my story at the conclusion of the Dance of Dragons as the realm took stock of it's losses from the devastating civil war. I’d also taken many, many creative liberties with my storytelling, cutting out certain bits that I thought were of dubious veracity and adding in bits that I theorized to likely to be true. Still, I tried to keep the retelling as truthful as possible. (13)

“Yes Mother. And that is how we lost our dragons. The death of the last dragon marked the beginning of our fall from power.”

“And your solution to the problem is to mine dragonglass and sell it?”

“Not exactly Mother. The dragonglass is only the means to an end, though it is rather convenient. My goal is to use the profit from the dragonglass to form my own army, by which time I will be a man grown, and Bloodfyre will be big enough to turn the tide of battle on his own.” Visenya leaned back into her chair and put down her wine goblet.

“Your dream has complicated many things Maegor.” She paused to take a sip of Arbor Gold. “But it has also simplified many things for me as well. Especially in regards to my Lyseni friend.” (14)

“So you believe me?”

“Of course I do, Maegor. If your dream is anything like Daenys’s dream of the Doom, you may very well become the savior of House Targaryen, a name spoken with reverence by generations of Targaryens to come."
**************************************************************************************
Notes:

1. It's not the same rowboat from the chapter "Bloodfyre" in case you're wondering. This is a custom built rowboat with built in oarlocks. 😆

2. Targaryen dragonriders wearing cowboy hats. I'm surprised no SI to date has uplifted Westeros with cowboy hats. Instead it's steam engines, canals, and land reclaimation. How boring that is compared to a COWBOY HAT!

3. That face you make when your daughter turns out to be a dragongirl. 😅

4. It was slander, as we all know.

5. Maegor = Hercules

6. It was all just a dream . . .

7. Highlight portion is High Valyrian for "Born of Fire"

8. Mothers and their sons. It's all the same everywhere.

9. Well shit. Getting killed just got more tricky.

10. How else do you explain Meraxes being bigger than Vhagar despite being younger?

11. Visenya is the real person doing all the hard work while Aegon and Rhaenys (before her death) flew around Westeros like rock stars on tour. Complete with lots and lots of tour sex.

12. All hail the real Dragon Queen! And dragon rides are very good ways to bribe kids into surrendering their entire kingdom. Also, Ronnel Arryn will make an appearance in this fic.

13. And the stage is set.

14. Hmmmm . . . I wonder, I wonder, who could it be?

The second part of what used to one chapter.
As you may have noticed, this has been heavily rewritten, edited, and revised to make it as good as possible.
The title has also been changed . . . Several times in fact, until I came up with this one.

As well, the commissioned art for Visenya and Vhagar have arrived!
The artist is ever talented @Bear Ribs , who kindly made this beautiful piece for this occasion.
If y'all like it, I'll commission more of it and you can vote who or what you from my story you want drawn.

Comments, questions and likes are always welcome!
Hope you like the new rendition of this chapter!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Lady Visenya Targaryen, age 15-16, and her she-dragon Vhagar. By @Bear Ribs

 

[BlackDragon98]

Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Second day of the Eighth Moon

The Lady Valaena returned from her voyage to Myr on a bright summer day with a bluebird sky. I’d just finished thrashing my opponent in a training bout and was in the middle of putting away my wooden practice blade when a servant came to notify me that Captain Prestan’s cog had been spotted in Dragonstone Harbor. Still in my training gear, I called for Serjeant Bean to rally 10 of my guards, mount up, get a horse cart prepped and head to the front gate while I sprinted to the stables and ordered a nearby stable boy to have Blackjack, my black stallion, saddled and ready. As soon as they were finished, I mounted Blackjack and rode to the front gate, where Serjeant Bean and 8 of my personal guards were mounted, the other 2 were driving a horse cart.

"Your orders, Prince Maegor?"

"Follow me to the docks. There’s a valuable package I want you to escort back to Dragonstone. Once you get the package loaded up, return to Dragonstone immediately, and notify my mother if I haven’t returned in 20 minutes. Understand?"

"Understood." Serjeant Bean nodded before yelling out orders to his men. "You heard the Prince! Let's move!"

I patted Blackjack’s neck and spurred him to a gallop, racing out the front gate towards the docks. The feeling of the wind flowing through my hair as Blackjack raced down the path was exhilarating. I tried imagining what it would feel like to do the same on Bloodfyre once he was big enough to ride. Probably like flying an early biplane with a massive rechargeable flamethrower, but without the engine noise. Though the roaring would probably make up for the engine noise.

Once we neared the docks I reined Blackjack in, as the path became more crowded. Today was a busy day, the docks bustling with merchants from a dozen different lands and the local smallfolk going about their daily business. I kept riding down the docks until I reached the cog known as the Lady Valaena, and then dismounting. Captain Prestan was atop the quarterdeck giving orders to his men, though he hurried down to meet me as soon as he saw me atop Blackjack. I waited by the gangplank as the captain hurried down.

"How was your voyage, Captain Prestan?"

"Very well, Prince Maegor. The winds and waves were as kind as always." The captain reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a key, which he handed to me. "The key to the gold." I took it and looped it inside my key ring.

"How did the dragonglass sell?"

"Very, very well The supply from Asshai was delayed for some reason or the other. Pirates from the Basilisks, if memory serves me right. When I presented our supply, the Myrish craftsmen fought a bidding war over the two crates of dragonglass. Men were shouting their prices out, desperately trying to outbid each other like crows squabbling over carrion." He chuckled at the memory. "The final price at the end of the bidding war was the equivalent of 500 gold dragons per crate, with a profit of 480 gold dragons once you take away all the expenses. I specifically stated that we would only accept gold or silver coins, as you requested beforehand. None of that Braavosi iron." (1)

"Excellent. I trust that you have already deducted your share from the profit?"

"Of course, Prince Maegor. Yet there's one thing that I wish to bring to your attention, if you're interested."

"You have my interest, Captain Prestan. Please continue." What in the name of Balerion could be so important?

"You see, the news that a new and reliable source of dragonglass becoming available has caused quite a stir in among the jewelers of Myr." He reached into his coat and pulled out several scrolls of parchment, all of which had different seals on them. "The jewelers at the bidding war have all written letters to the new supplier. I have kept your identity and the location of the dragonglass deposits a careful secret, as you ordered. None of my crew were allowed off the ship and we set sail for Westeros as soon as our new cargo was loaded. My men complained a bit, but the profit from the voyage kept them quiet for the most part."

"That's good to hear. I presume these letters are requests for exclusive access to my dragonglass?"

"Correct. Several of them have offered a variety of valuables in exchange for a deal, most of them offered a monthly payment of gold, others offered manses in Myr and fertile croplands outside the city complete with slaves, and there are even some who have offered their virgin daughters." (2)

"Unfortunately for them, none of these offers seem interesting to me. Though I will say, the ones offering their virgin daughters will seem tempting in another 8 years. But only if the bride is of the purest Valyrian stock with platinum hair, violet eyes, and the beauty and figure of a Valyrian goddess. Queen Visenya would accept nothing less." The captain laughed at my response.

“I suppose you won’t be needing these letters then?” I shook my head.

“I’ll take them anyway. It’s good to know who I’m doing business with and what kind of person they are.” Captain Prestan handed me the scrolls and I passed them over to one of my guards, who had finally caught up with me and was now standing beside me.

“Deliver these letters to my chambers. Wait there until I arrive.” The man nodded and I turned back to the good captain.

"We'll stick to our current method and let them bid for each crate. Did you tell them that there will be only one supply run every two weeks?" (3)

"I'm pretty sure that's what caused the bidding war, Prince Maegor, because that’s the first thing I told them." I grinned in delight, knowing that business would soon be booming. Dragonglass monopoly, here we come!

"Excellent work Captain Prestan. I look forward to our continued partnership.”

“As do I, Prince Maegor.” We shook hands and parted ways as the crew of the Lady Valaena unloaded the locked chest from their cog, which my guards promptly loaded onto the horse cart.

“May the winds and waves be kind as always." I called, as the Lady Valaena prepared to set sail for Driftmark.

With the chest secured, I climbed onto the cart and opened the chest using the key. From the small crack, I could see the glittering gold and silver coins that lay inside. Satisfied, I sealed the chest and locked it once more, before hopping down the cart and mounting Blackjack.

"Back to Dragonstone men!" Upon my command, we rode back to the castle. I led the column myself, with the horse cart in the middle being protected by 4 mounted guards on each side and Serjeant Bean holding the rear. After getting back to Dragonstone, I dismounted and dismissed the guards and Serjeant Bean back to their regular duties, except the 2 guards driving the horse cart, who were unloading the chest.

"Men, take the chest and follow me."

"Yes, Prince Maegor." The two guards did exactly as told, following me as they carried the chest in a vertical manner, with one man in front and the other at the back. It was a heavy chest and the men huffed and puffed as they dragged the wooden box.

A few corridors, some stairs, and a turnpike staircase later, we arrived in front of my mother's solar. I knocked and heard a soft "Come in" before I opened the door and entered my mother’s chambers. Visenya was sitting at her desk, reading a scroll as she looked up at me and the two men hauling the chest with a smile on her face.

"Place it down right here." The guards put the chest exactly where I had specified, before standing up to catch their breath. "Dismissed, men." The two men came to attention before leaving the solar, one of the men closing the door on the way out. I took out the key and opened the chest all the way, revealing it's glittering contents, 768 gold dragons in profit. Smiling, I gestured to the gleaming gold dragons, recalling the conversation between Visenya and I at dinner last night.

I wanted to expand the business into the manufacturing of items made of dragonglass but Visenya shot down my proposal. She rightly stated that any sort of business greater than a half dozen men was liable to be discovered by Aegon, which would create all sorts of problems for herself and I. Therefore I proposed that we take the profits from the dragonglass and invest them in the purchase of establishments such as taverns, brothels, and inns through a trusted individual who was both under our direct command and sworn to secrecy. (4)

I proceed to explain that these establishments could also serve as the basis of a spy network to monitor the Seven Kingdoms for any kind of dissent against House Targaryen. Men would be less careful around prostitutes and unknowingly, they would spill certain secrets. Visenya listened to my proposals soundlessly until I had finished. And then, to my surprise, she agreed. She agreed to support my projects, but explained I needed to prove that my enterprise would be successful. Essentially, everything banked on whether the two crates of dragonglass sold well or not. Fortunately for me, the dragonglass had sold even better than I thought and now my enterprise would gain my mother's full support. (5)

"Impressive. Very impressive indeed, Maegor. Since you’ve proved this venture to be successful, I now pledge my full support." She was all smiles, though in the back of my mind I felt something was missing. "Though I believe you've forgotten something, son."

"Have I Mother? I don't recall forgetting anything. I've presented the gold to you and you've pledged your support for my enterprise. What else is there to be done? Open a bottle of Arbor Gold and make a toast to the continued success of our new business?"

"The chest. Do you intend it to sit here for the rest of eternity?" I quickly paled, realizing my mistake of dismissing the guards before making sure that there was nothing left for them to do. My discomfort drew an amused look from Visenya, which quickly made me realize that my mother was just teasing me. (6)

"Not to worry. I'll call someone over to get this down to the treasury. Now, sit down. I have something to tell you." Obediently, I took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of her desk and straightened my back, intent on hearing whatever the Dragon Queen had to say. When she spoke again though, her voice had changed and I noticed there was a sharp edge to it.

"Maegor, do you remember the judgement you passed a month ago?"

“Are you referring to the case involving Serjeant Dick Bean?"

"Yes." Visenya took a breath before continuing, her voice terrifyingly quiet with a deadly edge to her tone. "What made you think that REWARDING this fool was a good idea? Do you know what kind of precedent this sets? That any servant of House Targaryen can simply come pleading for mercy if they commit a crime and then not only see the case dismissed but be rewarded as well? Did you even consider the consequences before you made this decision?”

The silence was deafening and I felt time stretch out, as moments turned into seconds and seconds into minutes. I thought about what Visenya had just said and composed myself before responding.

“The situation is not as bad as it appears.” A cold sweat had appeared on the back of my neck.

My mother replied with a singular word. "Explain."

“I did give Serjeant Bean a single gold dragon, but with it, I won the everlasting loyalty of him, his wife Jeyne, and their children. This is something he will remember for the rest of his life and he will pass onto his children this concept of loyalty to House Targaryen. That the dragon watches over those that serve them loyally. This may seem like a bad decision at the moment, but think of the benefits down the road.”

“Very well. But, never, ever do something like this without informing me first. For the realm your father and I forged through fire and blood is still young, and precedents like this can have dangerous consequences in the future.” She sighed before continuing on. "Let this be a lesson for you, my son. For your sake, I hope we never have to repeat this conversation." (7)

"Yes, Mother. I understand." I murmured, whilst bowing my head in apology.

"There is one other thing I need to tell you. So lift your head up and listen carefully, son." I did as I was told as Visenya continued speaking.

“Due to the lack of suitable companions of your age and status on Dragonstone, I have taken the time to find you one. Valyria was not built by a single man, and Aegon could not have united Westeros without your aunt Rhaenys and myself. If you are to succeed in your endeavours, then you must surround yourself with the right people.” Looks like Visenya is really acting on all the points I mentioned about my “dream”. (8)

“His name is Edwyn Waters, the natural son of Lord Celtigar and a Lyseni bedwarmer. Lady Celtigar is not fond of his presence at Claw Isle, so Lord Celtigar and I have agreed to foster him here. Edwyn will be arriving here tomorrow at noon. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. Why a half Lyseni?”

“To help you learn the Lyseni dialect of Low Valyrian. He’s 3 years older than you and rather well educated for a child of his status.”

“But why must I learn Lyseni Valyrian?”

“Because you will need to use it, Maegor.” The glint in her eyes told me everything I needed to know. "Everything I am doing is for your benefit. Now go and change into something more acceptable. It is time for our noon meal." (9)

“Yes Mother.” I nodded and left the solar, closing the door on my way out, my mind spinning with questions as I walked back to my room.

Why Lyseni Valyrian? The Dragonlords were wiped out in Lys and Visenya would never accept a bastard girl with a few drops of dragonblood born in a whorehouse as my bride.
Unless . . . (10)
**************************************************************************************************************
Notes:
1. Wars are already being fought, though none have died just yet.

2. Everyone wants the exclusive deal. Business never changes, no matter which universe you get dropped into.

3. When you hold a monopoly, you can do whatever you want. You're the price and supply setter after all.

4. Chaos is a janky ladder made of twigs dipped in wildfire. That said, Littlefinger does have a few good points.

5. My headcanon is that Visenya is the de facto spymaster until Maegor created the Master/Mistress of Whispers position by appointing Tyanna.

6. Don't let success get to your head!

7. 21st Century idiocy receives a scolding. Something that most SIs magically avoid for some reason. But not Maegor.

8. Canon Maegor was a man with no real friends. Saegor included that point when he told Visenya about the dream.

9. Team Maegor, some assembly required.

10. Hmmmmmm . . .

Here we are, the weekly update.
Comments and questions are always welcome!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Originally written by Widowmaker, author of A Queen's Conquest and other stories.
Has been ever so slightly modified to account for the changes to "Fire, Blood, and Valyrian Steel" as a whole compared to the original version.

Queen Visenya’s Solar, Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
20 AC
The Twentieth day of the Eighth Moon

Visenya sipped at her Arbor Gold as she sat in her favorite chair in the solar. The solar that had once been her father’s, that by law would have passed to Aegon in his capacity as Lord of Dragonstone, but that she had taken for her own as he so often shunned the place.

Her eyes wandered across a room that was more than familiar to her, precious objects that she liked adorned various places in the solar itself, and some had a history stretching to before the flight from Valyria by her ancestor Aenar the Exile.

A solar she loved, she sat in the chair her father once sat in, where as a small child she had rested on his lap after lessons. Learning at his feet the foundations of what would become her knowledge of sorcery, for Aerion was a mere dabbler in the arts compared with her. His love was more for the woman that he had married, for the lesser concubine from whose impure womb had come the brother that she loved. Would that I had ruled Dragonstone, Orys. Mayhap… Not for the first time, the image of herself as ruler and Orys as stalwart and faithful consort leaped forth unbidden in her mind. His eyes, his eyes that were so dark one could almost miss the purple in them.

None of Argella’s children had his eyes. Only the eyes of the Storm King. Of Durran’s blood.

Her hands roamed across her fine desk, hands less callused than they had once been, for there had not been as great a need for her to be a warrior in the years since Maegor’s birth. Maegor, my son. My blood, my little dragon.

She thought of the dragon he had hatched. It was a fine one indeed, she could see that its wings would one day shadow villages, and its flame consume castles like so much tinder.

Eyes like amethyst focused on the tapestry that she had received as a gift from Rhaenys. A gift commemorating her bloodless capture of the Mountain and Vale. Uncle’s ship was rammed by a Valeman ship, Aethan said. She had been away scouting, they had not expected the attack to happen so soon outside Gulltown, the plan had been to blockade the city and force their surrender with her dragon. Astride Vhagar she had burned the fleet of the Valemen and their Braavosi allies to cinders. I should have been faster.

Still, she remembered the capture of the Eyrie as if it were yesterday. Oh, the stories and songs that Rhaenys had so encouraged made it seem easy. But it was a close thing, at one of the strongholds, she believed it had been the Snow gate, they had loosed bolts, and narrowly missed her unguarded neck. Were my luck but a bit poorer, I might have died at that moment.

When she had arrived, she had planned to burn the castle, the Arryns’ prized cage, but little Ronnel had been alone. Where she and Vhagar had greeted him not with fire and blood, but kind words and an offer that an eager little boy could not refuse. A man grown now. She smiled at the memory.

That smile turned to a frown as she focused on the present. Her lips pursed in thought. He does not speak like my Maegor. But he is my son. Even his gestures, how he held himself, they were different from how he normally behaved. She knew not what had happened while she had been away. His dream explained some, but it couldn’t be enough to warrant such a drastic change.

Truly, the business proposal he had made was sound. Though she felt him too lenient, the work not controlled enough, but it was a solid foundation. It was not, however, something born of a child’s mind. His maturity was unusual.

She had heard tales of the shadows of the dead that lurked in the farthest east. Of sorcerers that had summoned them forth for knowledge, of men that were made vessels by the very powers they sought to bind.

Her son had dabbled in magic, had started teaching himself sorcery. He hatched a dragon, his Bloodfyre, on his own. Has he lost himself? Is that my Maegor? The worry flashed through her, before she reminded herself that she had felt nothing out of place. At least, not anything that could show two presences or more. Maegor was different, but he was Maegor.

Still, she could not help but think back to his dragon dream, a terrifying tale of blood, tears, and corpses. The fall of House Targaryen and near extinction of the dragons. The death of Vhagar was especially painful to think about. My dragon and my sword in the hands of bitter foes as they tore House Targaryen apart, all because my Maegor married that Hightower bitch.

Did I make the right decision when I performed the ritual? She massaged her temples. It was too much to think about. Especially this day of all days. What has happened to you, my wonderful son?

Visenya, mother of the realm, who had sat in judgement on the Iron Throne itself many times, stood up and gathered her candles. They were ashen grey, and they each had three rings of thin lavender string, one at the top center and base.

Candles dedicated to Meleys and Morghul. Marriage and Death. Of Rhaenys’ patron, and the god by whose will her soul was shepherded to her ancestors. Morghul, who would one day reunite her with Rhaenys, with her mother and father.

The candles she had made every year since Rhaenys’ death. For the anniversary of her passing.

She lit the candles, arranging them as Rhaenys had liked arranging her own when their mother had passed. She spoke prayers to the gods, for health and thanks as well as protection for herself and her son and even her nephew.

“I love him little, but he is your blood, little sister.” She would protect that piece of Rhaenys until her dying day. The way she never could protect the boy’s mother. He should have let me go. Rhaenys had been too bold, too daring, and she had begged Aegon to let her have Dorne on her own. Aegon could never deny her. It was your fault. She wished she had pressed harder for Aegon to not let her go alone.

The girl whose laugh could make even the dreariest part of her island home seem bright. Who everyone loved. Whose light Aegon’s idiocy had let pass from the world forever. When she lost Rhaenys, it was like losing her mother a second time.

She knelt before the lit candles. Her eyes closed, she could almost feel her sister beside her, and she cherished that feeling.

“Mayhaps if you were alive, you could have made Aenys stronger. Aegon has spoiled your boy.” Her warm voice hardened, becoming colder. “But a king does not rule alone.”

A touch of sadness stained her next words, as two tears made their way down her cheeks.

"Ten years is a much longer time without you, little sister."
*************************************************************
If you like this interlude, I highly suggest you take a look at "A Queen's Conquest", if you haven't already.

-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
22 AC
The Twelfth day of the Fifth Moon

“And that is why you should always spike a fish in its head after it has been caught.” A guard opened the ice chest with the spiked mackerel, still fresh after a week on ice compared to the mackerel left to bleed, which had begun to smell and turn foul. Both samples had been gutted and cleaned after being caught, and they had been caught at the same time to ensure a fair competition. (1)

The fishermen assembled before me stared at the two samples of mackerel in disbelief, shocked at how such a simple act could make such a big difference. Once they had more or less gotten over their shock, my audience broke in cheering and applause. I gestured with my palms for silence, and a hush fell over the crowd of fisherfolk.

“Each family will be given two tools and two member of the family will be trained in its use by Goodman Colton and his sons here, all free of charge!” The fisherfolk raised another cheer, and I could hear shouts of “Gods bless you, Prince Maegor!” and “Long live the Prince of Dragonstone!”

“Prince Maegor?” I turned around to see Petyr standing behind me, dismounted from his horse.

“What is it Petyr?” I waved to the fisherfolk while walking over to my trusty stallion, Blackjack.

“The dragonglass miners . . . They’ve discovered something that might change everything. Edwyn’s already there, examining their discovery.”

“Well, why don’t we go take a look then?” We mounted up and rode towards the hidden dragonglass mine, tucked away from the villages and Dragonstone harbor. As we galloped down the hidden path that led to the mine, I recalled how Petyr had come into my service.

He was the son of Jaremy, the owner of a tavern some ways outside King’s Landing. When Petyr was 5, a group of bandits attacked his father’s tavern. They looted the establishment and raped Petyr’s mother while forcing her husband to watch, before they slit her throat. Petyr also witnessed the whole event from a slit in the cellar; his mother had hidden him there when the outlaws broke into their establishment. Queen Visenya was holding court at the time of the attack, for she was pregnant with Maegor and stayed behind while Aegon continued his devastation of Dorne. (2)

Despite her advanced pregnancy, my mother gathered a small group of mounted knights and men-at-arms before mounting Vhagar. The brigands were swiftly captured after a short chase and all begged for mercy as Visenya ordered them gelded before they were condemned to a slow death in a crow cage. This single act earned the everlasting loyalty of Jaremy and he was more than willing to act as the executor of our will when Visenya asked him to oversee the two taverns and a brothel that we purchased with the gold from my dragonglass sales. (3)

With Jaremy serving as the executor of our will, it was decided that Petyr would serve me in the same capacity, like a sort of medieval personal assistant. He was very enthusiastic about the whole thing and willing swore the blood oath of loyalty to myself and my descendants. (4)

“You’ve been rather quiet today, m’lord. Is something troubling you?”

“No, I’ve just been wondering what sort of discovery they’ve made at the dragonglass mine.” Petyr’s face broke into a smile.

“Just wait and see, m’lord. I promise it’ll put a smile on your face.” We rode down a winding, deserted path; untraveled by most of those who dwelled upon Dragonstone, till we reached a small strip of beach. I saw a few men and a half dozen mules standing by a cave entrance; the entrance to my dragonglass mine. I spurred Blackjack into a gallop as I raced down the beach.
I dismounted when I reached the mine opening, left Blackjack in the care of Petyr before walking over to where I saw Edwyn in deep discussion with a couple miners.

“Edwyn! I hear you’ve found something marvelous in this little mine of ours. Mind a demonstration?” Edwyn turned around with a grin on his face.

“Ah, Prince Maegor! You’re just in time!” He walked over to a crate and grabbed a small tray box covered with a small piece of sailcloth.

“Guess what’s inside?” he asked. Edwyn held the tray out for me.

“Hmmm. . . Gold and platinum.” What else could be so marvelous?

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Since you can’t guess what’s inside, why don’t you take a look?” I ripped off the sailcloth and to my surprise, there was nothing but four pieces of dragonglass─and a big black rock with a few crystals embedded amidst the ash-black lump.

“What the hell is this? This is nothing but rocks and dragonglass! Edwyn, what sort of joke is this supposed to be?” Despite my annoyance, the grin did not leave Edwyn’s face. Instead it morphed into a shit eating grin.

“Knew you’d say that.” He took a piece of dragonglass and handed it to me. “Take a closer look at this piece, my lord, and tell me what you see.” I scrutinized the piece of dragonglass. There was nothing different about this piece except . . . the colour. A deep shade of green like the kind from the camouflage uniform I once wore as a 2nd lieutenant in the army reserves. Oh right, the Citadel does have a green glass candle brought from Valyria. Since glass candles are made from dragonglass, that means this stuff must come in at least two colors. I wonder how much I can charge for different colored dragonglass? Maybe base the price on which color is more popular? Though . . . if the green variant is rare as hell, I could really make a killing from it.

“Impressed, my lord?” I returned the dragonglass back to the tray.

“I am. This green dragonglass shall be most advantageous for my little business.”

“Then why don’t you take a look at this piece?” He passed me a different piece, a smaller chunk with a glossy red sheen. (5)

“How many other colors have the miners found?” I questioned as I put the shiny opaque rock back in the tray.

“Aside from the green and red, we’ve also found blue and purple dragonglass.” He gestured to the other two pieces in the tray, which I promptly examined. True to his word, the other two pieces that Edwyn had prepared were blue and purple respectively, though it was a little hard to differentiate them at first, the purple being more of the indigo variety.

“This is some seriously impressive stuff. But what about that rock?” Edwyn pulled a little hammer from his belt and handed it to me.

“This “rock”, my lord, is none other than diamond.” I resisted the urge to laugh. Sure the colored variants of obsidian were cool, but diamond. My friend was definitely messing with me. Yet Edwyn remained calm as he took a large rough, unpolished crystal from his pocket and laid it on a big rock.

“If that crystal shatters, then you can call me a liar.” I chuckled and clobbered the crystal with my little hammer. Nothing happened aside from a resounding clang that caused all the workers to turn and stare at me and Edwyn. I turned back to the crystal and hit it again with the hammer. Still, nothing but the sound. Unwilling to accept that it was actually a diamond, I grabbed the crystal and threw it at the big rock with as much force as I could apply. (6)

To my shock, the impact from the blow shattered a part of the rock’s surface as the crystal bounced off the beachside stone, landing a couple feet away. The eyes of the miners remained glued on the crystal, as Edwyn walked over and picked it up. He passed me the completely undamaged translucent mineral, which I held up to the sun.

“Well shit. Looks like we've struck diamond, men.” A cheer went up from where the miners were standing, because I established their monthly wages as a percentage of the total profit. Now that we’d struck diamond, their wages would increase drastically, even though dragonglass was already a profitable business.

“Shhhhhhh!” A hush fell over the half dozen miners. “Do you want the whole island to know about this? Get back to work you lot! The more diamonds you mine, the more you get paid.” The miners fell silent once more and returned to their duties, though they were markedly more efficient than before. (7)

“Do you know of anyone in the Crownlands who can cut and polished these diamonds for us Edwyn?” He nodded in response.

“To my knowledge, both House Velaryon and House Celtigar have a couple jewelers who can cut and polish diamonds. I’d reckon they're more skilled at cutting and polishing gemstones like emeralds, sapphires, and rubies, but I’m sure they’ll be able to work diamond as well.”

“Good. I’ll discuss this discovery with Queen Visenya. Tell the men continue mining the diamonds until my mother gives her approval. All diamonds are to be stored in a special, locked chest at Dragonstone until further notice."

“Understood, my lord.” Edwyn went off to put away the dragonglass and diamonds, as Petyr walked towards me.

“Prince Maegor.” He pointed towards the horizon, filled with dark stormy clouds. Autumn had come and with it, heavy storms from the Northeast. I had been so distracted by the new discoveries I had failed to notice the changing weather.

“Men, get ready to pack up and go home! Storm’s blowing in.” The miners immediately started cleaning up and packing up everything, eager to get home before the storm blew in.

“Looks like a helluva storm out there.” Edwyn held out a large drawstring bag. “The diamonds. I figure your mother would need some sort of proof before she’d believe your claims.”

“Thanks.” As I tied the bag to my belt, I finally remembered a question I’d been ruminating for some time. “Edwyn, where did you learn to differentiate diamonds? You’ve never struck me as a particularly studious person.” My friend chuckled as he ran his hand through his long silvery hair.

“When I was eight, my mother Aelora became the concubine of Magister Lysander Rogare. My stepfather arranged for me to be educated in the ways of trade, for the Rogares had become wealthy through trade and he believed it would do the same for me. My father, Lord Corren Celtigar, visited Lys when I was 11, ironically because of some business between the Crown and my stepfather. After discussing the issue with my mother and Magister Rogare, he acknowledged me as his natural son and took me to Claw Isle. Lord Celtigar continued my education in the ways of trade, and now 3 years later, here I am.” (8)

“So you’ve only lived in Westeros for three years?”

“That is correct.”

“Why does your Common not bear a Lysene accent? I’ve always wondered about this detail but I kept forgetting to ask you.”

“My stepfather hired a Westerosi tutor to teach me Common when I was nine. To know a man, you must know his tongue, he was fond of saying.”

“Pardon my interruption, my lord, but the weather.” Petyr pointed at the storm clouds rolling in from the Northeast. The miners had already cleaned everything up and were in the process of hanging up a large tarred canvas over the mine entrance, to prevent any flooding the heavy rains may cause to the shaft. (9)

“Damn Northeaster. Claw Isle’s going to get hit bad from this one.” Edwyn peered into the distance. “Sandwiches and ice cream, with some Snakes and Dragons?” (10)

“Sure, why not?” With that, the three of us mounted our horses and rode back to Dragonstone Castle, while the two Targaryen guards that accompanied Petyr and myself stayed behind to make sure the mine was properly concealed by the workers.

“How are the wedding preparations Edwyn?”

“They’re going well. Once the zorse stallion arrives at Myr, it can be shipped to King’s Landing. Also could the diamonds in Lady Alyssa’s gift be taken from our own stock?”

“An interesting idea, but that would open us up to scrutiny. Petyr, what do you think?”

“Maegor is correct. If we use our own diamonds, then questions will certainly be asked. And that’s the severed head of a viper I wouldn’t touch with a 10 foot pike.” A single raindrop fell on my head while we all had a good laugh at Petyr’s joke. (11)

“Last one back to Dragonstone is a soggy dog!” I yelled. With that, we spurred our horses into a gallop and raced towards Dragonstone Castle, with a nor’easter hard on our backs.
*************************************************************
Notes:

1. Ikijime. As a angler myself, I testify that this method really does work. Fish does taste better when it's been instantly killed compared to ones that are left to slowly bleed. And they preserve longer as well.

2. A bun in the oven is not going to stop Visenya from dispensing justice. And she would have continued burning the Dornish from dragonback with Aegon except he banned her from doing so because he was concerned about the safety of her unborn children. That's the extent that Aegon cared about Maegor. There will be more on Aegon being an absentee father in later chapters.

3. Visenya was Aegon's de facto's spymaster. The taverns and brothels are dual purpose, they generate profit and collect intel. And thus the Dragon's Spynet was born.

4. Team Maegor is partially assembled. Additional assembly still required. 😛

5. Obsidian in real life does come in different colors.

6. It's actually possible to destroy a diamond if the conditions are just right. But normally, they're pretty indestructible.

7. That moment when you forget you're working on a secret project.

8. The plot thickens. And the worldbuilding continues.

9. Because Saegor doesn't want his mine looking like the "Rains of Castamere"

10. Yes, sandwiches and ice cream. Realistic uplift. Also, in you didn't catch it, Snakes and Dragons is just Snakes and Ladders except the ladders are replaced by dragons. Also, it's subtle anti-Dornish propaganda, because snake bad, dragon good.

11. Notice the change in speech by Edwyn and Petyr in an informal setting? Getting called Prince and Lord all day long get quite tiresome TBH.

Remember the hint “Kimberlite”? Here it is.
As I said, this version is completely different from the AH version and is more of a rewrite than anything.
Some parts and details will still be the same, but it gets more different as the chapter goes on.
Hope you like the chapter!
BTW Maegor is 10 right now in the story. There's been a timeskip.

Comments and questions are always welcome!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

Dragonstone Castle, Dragonstone Island
22 AC
The Fifteenth day of the Fifth Moon

“Balerion’s black bones! Ignite, you damn thing!” For the 12th consecutive time, my spell had failed to light the candle. I was downright pissed at the damn thing for not working and at myself for being so incompetent at something as simple as lighting a glass candle. Or at least it was supposed to be simple for someone well versed in the mystic arts. My skills in conjuring flames were naught but paltry tricks, enhanced by the magically powerful nature of my dragonblood. (1)

“Maegor, calm yourself. Screaming at the glass candle will do nothing to help light it.” My mother’s voice was calm and collected, just as she had been for the past hour. There was not a hint of disappointment or displeasure in her voice, despite my constant, repetitive failures. I fell silent immediately, crestfallen at my failures. Visenya noticed my disappointment almost immediately and consoled my miserable attempts to light the candle.

“Lighting a candle is the most difficult when you first do it. I still remember how many times it took me to light my glass candle for the first time.”

“When was that, Mother?” I gazed at her expectantly, hoping for a story. Visenya smiled when she saw that peculiar look on my face.

“That was many, many years ago, my dear.” She paused for a moment, as if combing through her memories. “I was but a girl of ten name-days, sitting upon your grandfather Aerion’s knee in this very room.”

“This was my grandfather’s solar?” My mother nodded ever so slightly.

“Indeed it was, until it passed into my possession upon his passing. Your father preferred his own chambers. Now, give the incantation one more try, Maegor. And try to remember the order.”

“Yes Mother.” I closed my eyes and inhaled one last time. Last time’s the charm. A sense of utter calm washed over me. I slowly opened my eyes, gazed at the incantation one last time, and then recited it from start to finish, paying close attention to the ordering. Nothing happened for several moments after I finished the incantation.

I glanced at my Mother with a worried look on my face. Visenya remained impassive, though I recognized the ghost of a smile making its way up from the corner of her mouth. Abruptly, a brilliant light began to shine from the jagged obsidian candle’s tip. The room was swiftly filled with an unnaturally bright glow, shifting into an image of Dragonstone Island. I noticed the hint of a smile forming at the corner of my mother's mouth, as the brilliant light brightened even the darkest corners of the solar.

“Well done. Now, use what I’ve taught you and shift the view to Claw Isle.”

“Yes Mother.” I whispered an incantation and the light flicked momentarily, before transforming into an image of Claw Isle. Another incantation changed the image to that of Celtigar Keep. Outwardly Celtigar Keep was little different from the castles of the mainland. House Celtigar had always been a distant third, both in terms of wealth, power, and blood. (2) Claw Isle was not strategically located and the Clawmen of Crackclaw Point were openly hostile to anyone who claimed dominion over them. Well, all save House Targaryen, for they had fervently (and wisely) sworn eternal oaths of fealty and loyalty during the Conquest to my mother after hearing about the destruction of House Hoare at Harrenhal.

Since then, Clawmen had become a common sight on Dragonstone and a portion of the Targaryen men stationed at Fortress Dragonstone were of Clawmen origin. I’d always found them to be an interesting bunch; the crannogmen of the Crownlands. Their homeland was a place of many caves, of bogs, and innumerous trees; a vast forest of evergreens and deciduous trees that rival the Rainwood, Kingswood, and probably even the Wolfswood. Darklyns, Mootons, and Celtigars alike had tried to subjugate the Point and its inhabitants, yet to no avail. Clawmen were fierce warriors; skilled in the ambush, slingers and skirmishers with javelin made up the majority of their infantry. Their healers were skilled in the use of local plants and herbs from the bogs and forests of their hilly homeland. I wonder if they know of any “special” mushrooms or fungi . . .

“What do you know about House Celtigar, Maegor?” I was surprised by Visenya’s question. Why so much about House Celtigar? Unless . . .

“The blood of Old Valyria flows through their veins, though it is less distinguished than ours. Like our Velaryon cousins, the origins of their house are mercantile in nature. Given the position of Claw Isle however, they’ve always been one of the weaker houses of the Narrow Sea in terms of manpower, land, and wealth. Lord Corren Celtigar is the Master of Coin, just like his great-grandfather Lord Crispian Celtigar, our first Master of Coin. Lord Corren’s father, the late Lord Alton Celtigar, served as our Lord Hand from 9 AC till his death by old age in 17 AC.” My mother smiled.

“Very good.” She turned to look at the window; the sun rising in the sky. It was nearly noon. Has she already decided?

“Mother, are we not going to make the offer to the Velaryons as well? I thought competition would be better for us.” She remained silent, but I could tell from her face that we were not flying to Driftmark anytime soon. It can’t be about that, can it? It’s been over 20 years.

“This cannot be about what happened at Gulltown, can it?” She sighed deeply, and I sensed great pain and loss from within her sigh.

“The Velaryons . . . have yet to forgive me for the Gulltown disaster and the death of your granduncle Daemon.”

“But you avenged his death tenfold by torching the Arryn fleet and their Braavosi allies. Over one hundred enemy ships burned to the waterline. Surely that was considered sufficient vengeance for the losses sustained by our fleet?” My mother shook her head, her face darkening in spite of the morning sun shining through the window.

“Not if I was responsible for the disaster in the first place.” She took a sip of her Arbor Gold; an acquired taste that dated back to her trip to the Arbor with Aegon before the Conquest. I saw dark memories bubbling up to the surface as she recalled the events that led up to the disaster. It was plain to see that those memories were anything but pleasant.

“I was scouting Gulltown’s defenses when the battle erupted between our fleet and the enemy’s. At first, I was hesitant to interfere, for I’d underestimated the size of the Arryn fleet and the speed at which they were assembled. It was only after some time that I realized something was wrong. By the time I dived in . . . it was already too late. The damage had been done.”

“How much of our fleet survived? I’ve heard varying accounts of what happened that day.” The only accounts I’ve heard of the battle were from Targaryen soldiers, and they were quite careful about what they said, especially concerning Queen Visenya.

“Just over half. The rest were destroyed or so badly damaged that they were abandoned before I scuttled them with Vhagar’s flames. Your Uncle Aethan blamed me for what happened after we returned to Claw Isle. And it wasn’t just your Granduncle who perished in the battle. Two of Aethan’s cousins were also killed in the battle when their ship was boarded by a Braavosi galley.” How did the Arryns get the gold for a dozen Braavosi galleys? And of the Sealord’s own fleet? Seems like Braavos is going to be a problem, sooner or later.

“What of the Celtigar fleet then? Did they not participate in the battle?” My mother smiled when I mentioned the Celtigar fleet.

“The original plan called for the Celtigar fleet to sail alongside the Velaryon fleet. Lord Crispian however, protested the night before our departure, explaining that his fleet did not possess enough warships to protect the transports. He also claimed that Dragonstone, Driftmark, and Claw Isle would be left open to attack if the plan should fail.”

“So how did you respond to his concerns, Mother?”

“I simply changed the plan. Instead, the Celtigar fleet was to wait at Claw Isle. Once the Velaryon fleet had secured the harbor, I would destroy Gulltown’s defenses with Vhagar. Upon the city’s surrender, a raven would be dispatched to Claw Isle and the Celtigar fleet would set sail. It was the only part of the plan that succeeded.” No wonder Lord Corren named his daughter Viserra. Guess it’s all but decided now. The diamond cutting part of the business is definitely going to House Celtigar. (3)

“So when are we going to visit the Celtigars and negotiate the deal?”

“Now.”

“Now?” My mother chuckled.

“Was I not clear, Maegor? Now just before you run off like a Clawman, remember what you have yet to complete.”

“Extinguishing the candle?” Visenya nodded and gestured to the jagged black stone sitting on her desk. I whispered the incantation and waved my right hand simultaneously. The bright light vanished in an instant, leaving the room in relative darkness.

“When you are done with donning your dragonriding leathers, go to the central courtyard.”

“Yes Mother.” Getting up, I bowed to my mother before leaving her solar, making sure to close the door on the way out.

After returning to my chambers, I quickly changed into my newest set of riding leathers, which were tougher and sturdier compared to my other sets. Clad in black leather riding boots and black leather pants, I had a black leather coat over my red tunic, a blood red sash tied around my waist, and a pair of black sharkskin gloves were stuffed in my coat pocket along with a riding whip attached to my belt. After checking to see if my attire was in order, I ran through the hallways and down the stairs, racing to the courtyard.

Bloodfyre and Vhagar stood before me as servants affixed massive saddles on their backs and reins on their horns, while my mother watched over the process, making sure that they got every step right.

“Negotiations after a noon feast, Mother?” I slipped my gloves on and clambered aboard Bloodfyre until I found myself seated in the saddle.

“As is my custom.” Next came the saddle chains. By the time I’d finished, Visenya was already waiting for me.

“Ready?”

“Yes Mother.”

“Nervous?”

“A bit.”

“Just let Bloodfyre do the flying. A dragon is no common mount and this is but a simple trip to Claw Isle.” With that, she urged Vhagar forward. The massive bronze she-dragon flapped her wings as she ran a few steps and leapt into the air, gaining altitude with every passing second. I took a deep breath before giving the command in High Valyrian.

“Sōvēs.” I cried out, feeling Bloodfyre shift beneath me as he began to run, gaining speed with every step. Wings flapping, my drake leapt into the air with his hind legs, soaring higher and higher as he followed Vhagar into the clear blue sky. My mother gestured for me to follow her and I obeyed, using the reins to steer Bloodfyre in the same direction. We climbed higher and higher into the sky until the people in the courtyard looked like ants crawling around a massive black anthill.

Visenya made a 90 degree turn towards the east and I followed, Bloodfyre flapping his wings with all his might as he tried to keep pace with Vhagar. The cold, crisp air buffeted my face; I squinted in discomfort. At such a high altitude, I could see the island of Dragonstone, the dark pine forests of Crackclaw Point to the north, and the distant shape of Driftmark. Judging by the rate we were traveling, Bloodfyre and Vhagar would reach Claw Isle in just under an hour.

Out with canon, in with destiny. Here we go.
**********************************************************************************************

Notes:

1. @ygrekks, your concerns have been addressed. While Maegor will be a sorcerer of sorts, his kind of sorcery is mostly combat based.

2. The Celtigars at this point are still quite Valyrian.

3. Celtigars are trying rise up in the hierachy. Whether that succeeds or not remains to be seen.


Dear Readers,

I sincerely apologize for the extensive delay this chapter has experienced. I'm currently in university right now and I've spent this summer working two part time jobs to earn enough tuition for next year, hence my lack of writing time. As of right now, I have some stuff for the next few chapters already planned out and some snippets written, but it will take a long time before they're ready to go. Therefore, I've been debating whether or not to start a Patreon. If I do end up establishing a Patreon, this will not mean that my writings will be hidden behind a paywall. Instead, it will mostly act as a sort of online tip jar to help me pay the bills.

Thank you for your understanding,

-Black Dragon

P.S. The Visenya art from Maryon has long since been finished and will be posted right after this chapter is posted.

 

[BlackDragon98]

Final Version of the same drawing by Maryon

I think this one looks more like Maegor. 😄

 

[BlackDragon98]

Celtigar Keep, Claw Isle
22 AC
The Fifteenth day of the Fifth Moon

“Welcome back to Claw Isle, Your Grace.” Lord Corren bowed before my mother as she dismounted Vhagar.

“Thank you for the reception, Lord Corren.” He then turned and bowed to me as well.

“Prince Maegor, what a welcome surprise.” Lord Corren’s wife and children accompanied him in paying respect to my mother and myself. It was a surprisingly big courtyard, given that Bloodfyre was already a quarter of Vhagar’s size. Guess that ritual did come in handy after all.

“The honor is mine, Lord Celtigar.” The crab lord and his family arose, as he and my mother strode into the great hall of the main keep, chatting about recent events at court. I walked with them, staying to the right of my mother. The interior of the great hall came as a complete surprise to me. Externally, Celtigar Keep was richly decorated with tapestry and painting. The windows were made of colored glass from Volantis, depicting various scenes of what I assumed to be the Valyrian Wars of Conquest. Myrish and Qohorik carpets lined the floors. Looks like the rumors of House Celtigar’s wealth turned out to be true. (1)

We were seated at the high table with Lord Celtigar and his family. I found myself sitting beside Edwell Celtigar and his younger sister Viserra. Edwell was much older than me, already a man grown, but his sister was around my age, a few years my elder. He was in conversation with my mother and his father.

“Prince Maegor, it’s an honor to finally meet you.” piped up Lady Viserra. I smiled in return.

“My sentiments exactly, my lady.” I glanced at my reflection in the golden plate in front of me, polished so brightly I could see every detail of my face. “Your home is beautiful, my lady. Much more beautiful than my volcanic fortress of an island.”

“You are too kind, my Prince.” I watched as the servants began filling the table with dishes. Mussels, clams, oysters, winkles, squid, octopus, crab, lobster, and shrimp; all steamed to perfection. Massive bowls of shellfish chowder were brought to the table. Salmon, cod, haddock, whitefish, seabass, and an array of different flatfishes accompanied them to the table. (2)

There was also white bread, oaten biscuits, and honey cakes; along with turnips, beets, beans, buttered carrots, and greens dressed with apples and pine nuts. This was followed by lemon cakes, apple pies, fruit tarts, and pears poached in some sort of alcohol. Hide flagons (replaced by large, decorated glass flasks with double handles at the high table) of Arbor Gold, Tyroshi strongwine, Highgarden hippocras, honey-wine and mead from Honeyholt, and Lysene white wine and fruit wines were passed around, along with jugs of ale.

I marveled at the feast momentarily before I began carving through the food with my fork and knife. Small portions of each, so I could have a taste of each; such was my plan. As for drinks, I started out with Honeyholt mead, but I soon found the taste of Lysene fruit wine to my liking.

“The strawberry wine, is it good Prince Maegor?” asked Lady Viserra.

“Aye, my lady. It captures the flavour of a ripe strawberry, without being overly sweet.” I took another sip of the strawberry wine. “I presume this wine is from the estate of your Lyseni mother’s family; House Artaris.” A look of surprise crossed Viserra’s lovely, young face, her fine Valyrian features contorting in curiosity. (3)

“You seem very well versed in Lysene affairs, my Prince.” I chuckled.

“Call me Maegor, my lady. It’s quite tiresome to be called Prince all the time.” Lady Viserra smiled in return before taking a sip of mead.

“In that case Maegor, I would prefer if you referred to me as Viserra. It is quite tiresome indeed, with all these fancy titles we must bear.”

“Agreed, Viserra.” The feast lasted another two hours, after which Lord Corren, his son Edwell, and my mother went off to the crab lord’s solar to discuss the diamond business. Me, being not yet a man grown, was excluded from the negotiations, though I did not mind in the least. Viserra’s company was more than enough to make up for that, as we walked back to where Bloodfyre and Vhagar were sunning themselves in the courtyard.

“So what gods do you pray to, Viserra? One of those from Lys or the Seven?” She laughed gaily and shook her head.

“Neither. My family and I hold to the same gods as yourself and your mother, Queen Visenya.” It was my turn to be surprised.

“You still worship the Fourteen of Valyria?” She nodded and smiled, having found a co-religionist. “What about your mother then? She must worship one of the Lysene faiths.” Viserra shook her head yet again. (4)

“House Artaris hold to the Fourteen of Valyria, along with House Veltereon, Rogare, Pendaerys, Haen, Dagareon, and Orthys. The remainder of Lyseni nobility are adherents to a variety of different faiths.” Presently, we arrived where the two dragons were snoozing in the sun. Bloodfyre lifted his head lazily and stared at Lady Viserra. (5)

“Can I pet him?” I laughed in response.

“That’s not a question you should be asking me, Viserra. A dragon is no common mount, for they are as clever as any man and the older ones are wiser than even the greatest of sages. Bloodfyre comprehends both High Valyrian and Common, though I believe his High Valyrian is better than his Common.” She blushed and then proceeded to ask the same question to Bloodfyre in High Valyrian. (6)

My dragon puffed some smoke from his nostrils before extending his head forward. Viserra reached forward and petted him on the snout, slowly and gently. I could feel Bloodfyre’s emotions inside of my mind. These emotions slowly formed into thoughts. So boring. Can we please go flying again? That gave me a great idea.

“Viserra, would you like to go flying with me on Bloodfyre?” She regarded me with a curious look on her face.

“You’re not japing, are you?” I chuckled.

“No Viserra, I do not jape. This is a genuine offer. The only question is, do you accept it?”

“Gladly.” Bloodfyre lowered his head and allowed Viserra to climb aboard his back, followed by me. A single command, and Bloodfyre launched himself into the blue sky.

“Is it always so windy up here?” Viserra’s voice was hardly audible from all the wind whipping around me.

“I have no idea. I only started flying last month.” I had to shout, despite the fact that Viserra was right behind me, her arms wrapped around my chest. And so she remained this way, as we circled round and round Claw Isle . . .


Several Hours Later . . .

“What are your thoughts on Viserra Celtigar?” We had just landed back at Dragonstone after concluding negotiations with Lord Corren Celtigar.
“Friendly, but I feel like there’s some sort of ulterior motive to that friendliness. Hopes for a royal wedding, perhaps? A second son is still a Targaryen prince and dragonrider.”

“Indeed. This would be a prime opportunity for them.” My mother looked up at the sunset. With twilight coming, it was time to go to sleep for the day.

“So how were the negotiations, Mother?”

“Simple. Lord Corren accepted our terms without much question. He’ll be heading to Myr to purchase some more slave craftsmen on the morrow. Once he’s returned, we’ll begin shipping the diamonds over. How goes the hexing of the sapphire necklace?” (7)

“It’s almost completed. I’ll have it done tomorrow night.”

“Good. How about the zorse?”

“The Qohorik merchants I hired are in Myr right now. They sent a messenger, saying that they acquired a zorse in Qohor. A rich Qohorik merchant prince had a pair of zorses that produced a third stallion zorse some time ago. The merchant prince was willing to sell the trained zorse stallion for a reasonable price.” (8)

“Excellent. Inform me when you are finished with the sapphire.”

“Yes Mother.” And so it goes. I really hope that hex doesn’t have to be invoked though . . . Because those were some fucked up consequences described by the tome.
********************************************************************************************************************
Notes:

1. House Celtigar has always been wealthy. Less so than the Velaryons, but they are better at managing their finances. Which is why they were often Masters of Coin in the early days of Targaryen rule.

2. Lots of seafood because the Celtigars live on an island.

3. Claw Isle doesn't provide an opportunity to exact tolls, so the Celtigars are more dependent on trade. Which means stronger ties with the Free Cities.

4. Stronger ties with the Free Cities means holding to the Old Faith of the Fourteen. At this point, there are still a number of people who worship the Fourteen.

5. Those names will be important later on. Take note of them.

6. The relationship between a dragon and his/her rider is a relationship of equals. Such are the Ways of the Dragonlords.

7. As I said, there will be gifts. But those gifts come with built in countermeasures. Visenya is completely aware of what happens afterwards because Saegor told her about everything in an earlier chapter.

8. A zorse is expensive. But at least it doesn't tend to die when it's transported over the Narrow Sea. Just ask the Brave Companions.

Here comes the next chapter!

Also, I have a Patreon now. BlackDragon98's Patreon

Please consider supporting me! It gives me more time to write and produce new chapters, stories, and allows me to commission maps and artwork for my fics. Also, my Patreon will feature my own original fiction, a project more than 2 years in the making that I've finally started launching.

Next chapter will be the wedding. After that, I'll update the AO3 version of this fic as I've caught up to my previous progress.

After the wedding? FIRE AND BLOOD!

That's all for now folks!
Comments and questions are always welcome!
-Black Dragon

 

[BlackDragon98]

The finished version of the lovely Visenya drawing by Maryon.

 

[Bear Ribs]

“This “rock”, my lord, is none other than diamond.” I resisted the urge to laugh. Sure the colored variants of obsidian were cool, but diamond. My friend was definitely messing with me. Yet Edwyn remained calm as he took a large rough, unpolished crystal from his pocket and laid it on a big rock.

“If that crystal shatters, then you can call me a liar.” I chuckled and clobbered the crystal with my little hammer. Nothing happened aside from a resounding clang that caused all the workers to turn and stare at me and Edwyn. I turned back to the crystal and hit it again with the hammer. Still, nothing but the sound. Unwilling to accept that it was actually a diamond, I grabbed the crystal and threw it at the big rock with as much force as I could apply. (6)

To my shock, the impact from the blow shattered a part of the rock’s surface as the crystal bounced off the beachside stone, landing a couple feet away. The eyes of the miners remained glued on the crystal, as Edwyn walked over and picked it up. He passed me the completely undamaged translucent mineral, which I held up to the sun.

6. It's actually possible to destroy a diamond if the conditions are just right. But normally, they're pretty indestructible.

As somebody who works with gems every day, this made me cringe a little bit, it's a pretty common myth. Diamonds actually shatter almost as easily as glass and have four cleavage planes running through them. They're very hard to scratch but very easy to break and if you hit a cleavage plane, even a relatively light tap can split it.

The one that's nearly indestructible is actually jade, nephrite especially though jadeite is nearly as tough. It's softer and easier to scratch than diamond but so impact-proof that there are ancient Chinese anvils made of jade that had swords forged on them for generations without any sign of all that endless hammering.

 

[ATP]

Interesting story.He should talk about Others.And do not made any more inventions as long as mother stop suspecting him for being not Maegor.Making Westeros better is good,but remaining alive is more important.
Good,that he created his own CIA.Or maybe better Mossad ? CIA is woke now.

P.S Lys - from chapter 1 we knew that there is one pureblood girl there.