100 AC – The Dragonpit
A deep, thunderous roar echoed from the pit, shaking the ancient stone walls. On this day, a dragon that had flown only once in recent years—a great, weary beast of a bygone age—stirred once more. Its wings, tattered by time, still carried the remnants of a power that had once shaped an empire.
Aegon Targaryen, the Conqueror, the first of his name, the first ruler of Westeros—a true dragonlord of Old Valyria—had long since passed into legend. His reign, his victories, his fire and blood lived on in the Seven Kingdoms he had forged. Yet time marched ever forward, indifferent to kings and conquerors alike.
Now, a century after his conquest, Aegon remained only in memory, in the pages of histories written by maesters, in the blood of his descendants. He remembered his final days—his voice, once commanding is reduced to whispers as he spoke to his grandchildren. He had told them stories of fire and steel, of Balerion's shadow stretching across Westeros, of the kingdom he had built from chaos. Then, at last, the darkness took him.
But the wheel of history never stops turning.
And on this night, in the heart of the Red Keep, Aegon awoke once more.
At first, there was only confusion. He did not understand—his body was small, weak, unfamiliar. He had died, hadn't he? He remembered the weight of age, the slow fading of his strength. But now, he was here, in a cradle, surrounded by voices that spoke his name. But second of his name now.
Viserys Targaryen and Aemma Arryn stood over him, their faces pale with shock. Their child—stillborn only moments ago—now stirred, his tiny chest rising and falling with breath that had not been there before. The maesters had declared him lost, yet here he was, alive. And within him, an old soul stirred.
Nearby, Viserys paced the chamber, overcome with emotion. His son lived. He was weak, but alive. It was a miracle—or something else entirely.
Outside, in the Dragonpit, the ancient beast roared again, its cry rising into the night. As if it knew. As if it had sensed the return of something—or someone. The echoes carried through the city, a reminder that dragon still lived, that their fire had not yet gone out.
And neither had his.
Ps I am using ai to be with wording and with better words and stuff but not completely AI manly using to fix and improve it so sorry if there some mistake I usually do go over so if there's something the AI doesn't see our sound wrong comment thx