Game of Thrones: Second Son of House Targaryen

A light breeze rustled through the grass, and white clouds drifted lazily across the azure sky.

A group of noble youths strolled together, trailed by a retinue of servants, as they arrived at the Northern Dothraki Dragon Pasture. Among them were both men and women, all wearing sunglasses that concealed half their faces. Even with only part of their features visible, it was clear they were all strikingly attractive.

"Aegon, what color dragon do you want?" asked one of the young men. His silver curls framed his face, and he wore a loose, pale gold robe.

Even after the reign of the Restorer Viserys, the name Aegon remained popular among the Targaryens.

The boy addressed as Aegon was only fifteen. His thick silver hair fell over his ears and forehead, giving him a shy appearance. Stroking the bay horse beneath him, he replied softly, "One as red as my Atey—or something close to it—will do."

The young man nodded, his hand idly running through his mount's mane with a mix of fondness and hesitation. Since when had the Targaryens been required to part with their horses upon becoming dragon knights? It was an unspoken rule—a symbolic shedding of their past selves to embrace the honor of dragon knighthood.

But Aegon didn't want to say goodbye.

His horse, Atey, had been his companion since its days as a colt. To Aegon, Atey was more than a mount; it was his playmate, his confidant. Parting with it felt unbearable.

Just then, a maiden with a perpetual smile approached him.

"Aegon is reluctant to leave his horse behind, isn't he?"

From her youthful appearance, one might assume she was Aegon's sister, but she was, in fact, his aunt. Her name was Chocole, honoring the youngest daughter of the Restorer Viserys.

Aegon glanced at the others and saw that all eyes were on him. Embarrassed, he instinctively shook his head. But then Atey, as if sensing the moment, twisted its head and playfully nipped at Aegon's ankle—a game they had shared since Atey was young.

Gritting his teeth, Aegon finally admitted, "Yes! I don't want the dragon to eat Atey!"

His declaration took everyone by surprise, and then the group erupted into laughter. Aegon felt his face grow hot, as though he were wrapped in a leather cloak under the blazing sun.

"Aegon," said the young man who had spoken first, his tone gentler now, "you must understand. A warhorse lives no more than thirty years, but a dragon can live over two hundred. Thanks to the Restorer's blessings, each of us can live nearly a century. There's no companion other than a dragon that can stay with us for our entire lives."

The magical gifts bestowed by the Restorer had changed everything. With healing powers and a commitment to the so-called "Commandments of the Restorer," Targaryens had become a force to be reckoned with. Even without assistance, most could live well into their seventies or eighties. With care, many surpassed a hundred years.

The current record for longevity belonged to Aemon, the Restorer's fourth son, who had lived to the remarkable age of 144.

However, Aegon remained unmoved by the arguments presented to him. He clung stubbornly to his belief, replying with quiet defiance:

"If that's the case, then why can't I accompany Atey for the rest of his life?"

A new voice joined the conversation, this time belonging to a young woman. She, too, had slightly curly silver hair, her features bearing a striking resemblance to the young man who had been urging Aegon to let go of his mount. Her name was Victoria, chosen in honor of the Restorer's eldest daughter.

"Aegon," Victoria said firmly, her tone carrying an air of unyielding authority. "You must remember that we Targaryens were born to be Dragon Knights. The longer the summer, the more dragons we have, and the more prosperous the people can be. It is the tradition of our house to offer the original mounts to those dragons who choose to serve us. You must accept this."

Victoria's resolve was evident, her words reflecting the weight of tradition and responsibility that came with their lineage.

The group's bond ran deeper than just shared age or camaraderie. They had grown up together, their close ties strengthened by their family's influence and the shared cause they represented. As part of a powerful faction within the sprawling Targaryen dynasty—now numbering over a thousand members—they understood the necessity of presenting a united front. Their shared bloodline was both their strength and their burden.

Nearly four centuries had passed since the Restorer had ousted the usurpers and rebuilt Valyria. Over time, the Targaryen family had fractured into more than a dozen internal factions, each wielding considerable influence. These young relatives represented a formidable force within the empire. They knew the importance of alignment, yet Aegon's hesitation was testing the patience of even his closest allies.

"But I've never heard of the Restorer feeding his mount to a dragon," Aegon muttered under his breath.

Only Chocolle, standing closest to him, caught the remark. She glanced at him briefly but chose not to address it. For now, the group let the matter rest, setting out to begin their search for dragons.

The curly-haired youth was the first to succeed, discovering his dragon near a cluster of boulders. It was a striking purple beast, nearly 20 meters long, with eyes as dark and glossy as polished inkstones. Victoria followed soon after, claiming a magnificent blue dragon adorned with dark blue, ringed spots on its expansive wings—eight in total.

The taming of two dragons in a single day marked an auspicious beginning to their mission. Although they had prepared for a month-long search, their progress exceeded expectations. One by one, the others found and bonded with dragons of their own, all in less than ten days.

Yet, their triumphs came at a cost. Each one had sacrificed their horse to solidify the bond.

Aegon, however, held Atey close, cradling the horse's large, reddish-brown head in his arms. His heart ached as he whispered soothing words, hoping to calm his playmate's fear. Watching his blood relatives become Dragon Knights only deepened the sense of unease within him. Even as he gazed at the majestic creatures, a cold dread began to take root—a dangerous emotion for any aspiring Dragon Knight. To fear the very creature you sought to bond with was tantamount to a death sentence. A dragon's fire had no mercy for hesitation.

Seven of the eight had claimed their dragons, their achievements only adding to the pressure on Aegon. With fewer dragons remaining, he received help from his relatives to narrow down his choices. But as the days passed, Aegon's struggles became glaringly obvious.

Half a month went by, and Aegon still had no dragon to call his own. He found fault with their colors or faltered during the training process. Several attempts ended in failure, and on one occasion, he narrowly escaped being buried alive by a dragon. His repeated missteps drew growing frustration from the group.

"Aegon! How long are you going to keep this up?"

The exasperated voice came from the silver-haired rider, who sat atop his dragon with an air of condescension. His piercing gaze was full of disdain as he looked down at Aegon, who had returned once again, dust-covered and defeated.

With less than five days remaining before their planned return, suspicion began to brew among the group. Some were starting to believe that Aegon was deliberately stalling.

"I…" Aegon's face flushed crimson as he averted his gaze, his eyes settling on his loyal mount, Atey.

The other riders gathered around him, their dragons forming a circle. Each dragon, an average of 20 meters long, loomed over Aegon and Atey, making them appear as vulnerable as a lone rabbit surrounded by a pride of lions.

"Think of your father, who died in battle! Think of your mother, who's waiting for you at home!" the silver-haired man bellowed, his voice cutting through the tense air like a whip. "Tell me, Aegon—do you want to be a Dragon Knight or not?"

Aegon's shoulders trembled at the outburst. Even Atey, as though sensing the gravity of the moment, lowered its large, reddish-brown head into Aegon's arms for comfort.

Aegon wasn't sure what scared him more—the fierce, predatory dragons that had already claimed the lives of their companions, or the sheer intensity of the silver-haired man's reprimand.

"I'll give you one last day," the man declared, his voice resolute. "If you can't tame a dragon by tomorrow, we're going back!"

"Got it," Aegon mumbled, his voice hoarse, as though his throat had been squeezed shut.

"I can't hear you!" The silver-haired man's tone grew sharper, impatience lacing his words.

"Got it," Aegon repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I said I can't hear you! You want to be a Dragon Knight, and you speak so quietly?" The words seemed to provoke Aegon further, the man's frustration evident as his voice edged toward a breaking point.

"I know!!!" Aegon suddenly shouted, his eyes filling with tears.

The next morning, the group spotted a dragon drinking from a river littered with debris.

The creature was massive, its body spanning 25 to 26 meters, with scales the color of rust. Even from afar, the air was heavy with the scent of blood. Its glowing emerald eyes contrasted starkly with its menacing form.

"Look, Aegon!" Victoria's voice rang out, trying to ease his tension. "Your mount is red, and so is this dragon. Isn't that a sign from the gods? Go tame it—we'll watch your back!"

Aegon stroked Atey's mane, his fingers trembling as if committing the touch to memory. Then, summoning every ounce of his courage, he began to approach the dragon.

Three hundred meters… two hundred meters… one hundred meters…

The rust-red dragon noticed Aegon when he was still a hundred meters away. Its massive head turned toward him, and its glowing emerald eyes locked onto his small, solitary form.

Aegon froze, a wave of icy dread coursing through him. His limbs felt stiff, as though he were moving through a nightmare. He instinctively wanted to turn back, to call out to Chocolle for help. But he remembered the rule etched into his mind before they had set out: You cannot turn back. Turning back means failure.

Clenching his fists, Aegon forced his stiff legs to move forward, one step at a time.

Fifty meters. Thirty meters. Ten meters.

Thirty feet. Twenty feet. Ten feet.

As Aegon came within reach of the dragon, he could see his own reflection in its vivid green eyes. The image staring back at him was that of a boy with a slightly round face, framed by thick silver hair that obscured his forehead, ears, and neck.

The dragon studied him for a moment, then lowered its colossal head. Its sheer size became starkly clear as Aegon realized that the dragon's head alone was larger than Atey's entire body.

If it wanted to eat Atey, it would only take a few bites, Aegon thought, his stomach twisting in dread.

Suddenly, his mind was assaulted by a vivid image: Atey, his loyal companion, being torn apart and devoured by this enormous beast.

No, no, no, I can't think about that now!

Aegon pushed the horrifying image from his mind. He knew the next step was crucial—he had to make physical contact with the dragon. If the creature didn't reject his touch, he'd already be halfway to taming it.

Holding his breath, Aegon slowly raised his arm. It felt impossibly heavy, as if weighed down by the pressure of the moment. The last time he'd felt this way was when he'd been feverish as a child. Even so, he forced himself to extend his hand toward the massive, rust-red dragon.

As he edged closer, he could feel the beast's hot, sulfuric breath on his face. The heat was intense, the smell overpowering.

"Come on, Aegon!!"

Not far away, Chocolle alternated between her binoculars and her unaided eyes, worried she might miss something.

Suddenly, the dragon opened its massive mouth, releasing a wave of stench so foul it made Aegon gag. The smell hit him like a punch to the throat, making him want to double over. To steady himself, Aegon clenched his hidden hand into a fist, his nails digging so deeply into his palm that bright red blood began to seep out.

With his free hand, he reached forward and touched the dragon's lips. The scales were hot to the touch, radiating a fierce warmth.

For a moment, the red dragon regarded the bashful boy before it. Then, slowly, it seemed to acknowledge him.

The group in the distance watched in stunned silence, their eyes fixed on the scene. Chocolle clasped her delicate fingers together, her face tense with worry.

After a tense moment, Aegon withdrew his hand and walked carefully to the dragon's side. Under the watchful eyes of his companions, he climbed onto its back. The dragon didn't resist. Instead, it spread its rust-red wings wide and launched into the sky with a powerful thrust.

The wind rushed into Aegon's collar and sleeves, cooling the cold sweat that had drenched him moments ago. Now, it felt like strands of icy relief.

He glanced down at his companions, many of whom had hesitated to ride their own dragons. Aegon waved exuberantly, inviting them to share in his triumph.

But his joy was fleeting. His gaze fell on Atey. The loyal horse was galloping below, its mane flowing like the tassels of a banner in the wind. Its neighing echoed up to Aegon, a bittersweet reminder of their bond.

"Do I really have to let him eat Atey?" he murmured.

Silvermane's voice cut through his thoughts, harsh and insistent. "Aegon, you're already a Dragon Knight. Feed Atey to your dragon!"

"But why?" Aegon's voice cracked with emotion. "We have pastures and fishing grounds! The dragon can eat cows, sheep, or fish. Why does it have to be Atey?"

"If you don't offer your horse, the dragon will be unhappy!"

"If you let the dragon eat him, you'll be able to stay together forever!" another argued.

The group debated heatedly, but Aegon refused to waver. His determination only seemed to irritate Silvermane further.

"If you're going to be this stubborn," Silvermane growled, "then I'll handle it myself!"

Without warning, Silvermane's dragon soared into the air and dove toward Atey.

"No!" Aegon shouted, realizing what was happening. He urged his dragon upward, desperate to intervene.

"They're going to fight! Stop them!" Victoria yelled, her voice sharp with alarm.

But it was too late. The two dragons collided in midair, locking their powerful jaws together. The onlookers gasped in horror as the beasts thrashed and roared, their massive wings slicing through the sky.

"Stop! Stop it! Stop fighting!" Chocolle cried, her hands trembling as she clutched her chest.

Then, without warning, a glowing purple door appeared at their feet, pulsing with a strange, otherworldly light.

One by one, figures began emerging from the portal. They were of all ages—men, women, even children.

"My god! So many dragons!" exclaimed Ciri, her voice tinged with awe.

Geralt, Vesemir, and Yennefer followed close behind, their expressions a mix of astonishment and unease.

Viserys was among the last to step through. His face darkened as he looked up and saw the two dragons locked in combat above. His expression grew even grimmer as the scene unfolded. Since the deaths of his own yellow dragon and Dany's silver dragon from old age, he had stationed the Gate of Realms in the Dragon Pasture to prepare for future travels. But he hadn't anticipated arriving to find his descendants fighting on dragonback.

Fury laced his voice as he shouted toward the sky, "Get down here!!!"