Oldtown was exactly that—old. The ancient seat of House Hightower, it housed two of the most significant monuments in the Seven Kingdoms: the Starry Sept and the Citadel. The Starry Sept, a magnificent place of worship, stood as the religious heart of Westeros, while the Citadel served as the intellectual hub, a place supposedly dedicated to gathering and sharing knowledge for the benefit of nobles and smallfolk alike. Yet, the maesters who dwelled there were nothing more than schemers, their brilliance marred by secret plots. Forbidden from marrying, they turned to strange, degenerate behaviors and shunned the very idea of magic, their minds closed to the possibilities it held.
In the Skies Over the Reach
The Targaryen dragonriders soared towards Oldtown, each of them anxious for different reasons. All eyes were drawn to the largest dragon, Vhagar, with its colossal wingspan and formidable presence. Riding on its back was a young man—a striking figure who, rather than facing forward, had turned his body to speak with two children seated behind him. His confidence was unnerving, letting the dragon fly itself as he conversed freely.
"Oldtown ahead!" Daemon Targaryen shouted from his dragon, his voice carrying through the wind.
Alicent Hightower, flying nearby, looked down at her childhood home from the skies and marveled at its beauty. But her thoughts were interrupted by a murmur from her daughter beside her.
"Will they learn, or will he have to teach?" the girl whispered to herself. Alicent glanced over, a pang of unease tightening in her chest. Her daughter was always an odd one, speaking in riddles and seeing things others could not.
Chaos in Oldtown
As the dragons descended, the sun was momentarily blotted out, casting vast shadows over Oldtown. Fear rippled through the streets. It was one thing for a single dragon to fly overhead, but when more than five appeared, led by the monstrous Vhagar, the townsfolk were stricken with terror.
The Citadel's maesters and the septons of the Starry Sept hurried to the lord's castle, seeking answers from Lord Hobert Hightower. But he was just as bewildered as they were. The ground shook as Vhagar landed in a clearing outside the city, whipping up a storm of dust that sent the gathered lords and their attendants covering their faces.
Moments later, a piercing whistle rang out, and Vhagar took to the skies once more, leaving a whirlwind of dust in its wake. The other dragons followed suit, swooping low over the city, perching on the ancient walls and towers like birds of prey. The largest of them coiled around the Hightower itself, an ominous sign that this visit was far from friendly.
Amidst the chaos, Lord Hobert squinted through the haze and recognized familiar faces dismounting their dragons. His niece, Queen Alicent, her children, and—shockingly—Daemon Targaryen and Rhaenys. But the figure at the forefront stole his breath.
A young man with wings and a tail approached, his skin shimmering with scales and eyes glowing like a dragon's. He walked with a confident swagger, a smile stretched unnaturally wide across his face.
"I am here to address a great grievance against House Hightower," the winged man announced, his voice smooth and melodic yet laced with danger. "I demand to speak with the Conclave of the Citadel and the High Septons of the Starry Sept."
Daemon stepped forward, a mocking grin on his lips. "As my son has spoken, we've come to air our grievances. My sister-by-law will witness it," he added, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Lord Hobert straightened, trying to mask his unease. "As the paramount lord of the Reach, I would be honored to host the royal family," he began cautiously. "However, I received no raven warning of any... grievance my house is accused of."
"Ah, Lord Hightower," the winged man interrupted, his tone smooth but sharp, "the rumors spread by your maesters and septons insult my nephews' bloodlines, questioning their legitimacy. But that's not all. There are other... indiscretions that require your explanation."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned his attention to the young boy at Lord Hobert's side, his focus intense. "But first, lead us to your castle. My family needs rest, and I have a cousin to meet." The way he dismissed Lord Hobert with barely a glance was a clear sign—this was no courtesy visit. It was a reckoning.
Alicent met her uncle's eyes but offered no comfort, only turning to follow the dragons as they loomed over the city like harbingers of doom. No one dared mention the dragons' defiance, perched on the sacred towers of the Citadel, for the message was clear: the Targaryens had come to reclaim their power.
Aegon's Thoughts
Arriving in Oldtown, I could feel the anger simmering in my veins. The way they looked at Rhaenyra's children, the whispers of illegitimacy—they think they can speak their treason as long as no one important hears.
In my past life, I lost everything because the nobles turned their backs on my family. I was too weak to see the betrayal coming, but not this time. Now, I am strong.
There are seven kingdoms, but there are more than seven Targaryens of my age. It's time to unite them and fix this fractured realm. I will ensure Rhaenyra sits on the Iron Throne, and I will not allow a war to erupt. No, I am here to prevent it. War is not my mission i will repay the gods of this world .