I woke in the last place I ever expected to wake up a womb from what I could tell. The moment I realized where I was, a creeping sense of warmth and pressure surrounding me, the muted, rhythmic thud of a heartbeat that wasn't mine—I nearly panicked. At first, I thought I was buried alive in some twisted mythological joke. I couldn't move, couldn't scream, couldn't see. Just float. Suspended in velvet darkness.
It felt like hell but not the burning kind. No, this was the kind of torment only silence and stillness bring. The kind that plays with your mind. I was a grown man forced deprived of my autonomy and sense's.
Then I remembered the white void and the Goddess Loreinda. I steadied my mind then focused. I try to reach out and touch the Force. Since I was in a womb and had no where to go or do. Might as well see if I inherited some of Revan's talent in the force.
It took time days, weeks, maybe months, I had no way to measure time currently but, eventually the force answered me. Gentle at first, like ripples in a still pond, then steadily stronger like a steady river holding me in it's embrace. With each breath, I felt my awareness stretch further and further. I sensed my mother's in it from her life to her love and how powerful she was. She was radiant and warm, her power shined on me like sunlight through water.
My father's presence was shaper like a rare jewel. but it felt like like the close I looked the more amazing he was to sense. I felt his determination like it was the wings of a mighty dragon protecting me with a determination that shined as bright as the sun.
Sometimes, while I floated in slumber, the Force would grant me visions that were closer to vivid than dreams.
One night, I watched a man atop a colossal black dragon, flames and steel in his hands. His sword shimmered like molten silver. I knew him, Aegon the Conqueror who looked like Henry Cavil for some reason. It was in the earliest days of his his conquest campaign. I could see what he saw. Feel the wind whip past as he rode the giant Balerion through skies.
Another night, I stood behind a warrior clad in dark robes and armor, tattered and scorched, a mask covering his face. In one hand, a red lightsaber, the other, purple. Revan. My now ancestor. His enemies were legions of republic troopers and jedi knights and master's. He stood alone and still he advanced. There was no hesitation in his movement or attack. This was definitely from when he was corrupted by the Sith emperor.
From time to time I would see their battles, other times I would see how they planned their attacks and how they led others. All of this changed suddenly just as I was born. That's when my new story truly began.
Five Years Later. My new name in this world is Samar Drakon. The goddess really knew what she was doing when she rewrote my life into this world.
The Drakon family. A name known throughout Volantis as one of its proudest noble houses especially after surviving the fall of Valyria. Our name is feared and respected in the Free Cities, and the courts of Pentos and Lys, whispered about in Braavos. We were Valyrians, and dragonlords of old blood even if no dragons followed us from the Doom. Only ambition and a legacy shaped by Revan's final gifts.
Even in Westeros we are respected, especially for our contributes to the country over the years. Especially during Robert's Rebellion.
Over the last four centuries, my family had transformed from displaced survivors to power players. Even with no dragons to command, they leaned into what they did have knowledge, teachings, and power. The Force flowed through the earliest members, though they did not call it that. Some thought it magic. Others, destiny. But it guided them all the same.
From what I'd gathered listening to the older family members who passed through my home, the Drakons built two institutions to thrive: A Merchant Guild, crafted by blood and sweat into one of the finest trading networks in Essos. They sold rare spices, cloth, weaponry, and information throughout the world.
A Mercenary Company—razor-sharp and elite, trained from childhood, tempered by discipline, with Revanite philosophy and teachings.
My mother was the current High Commander of the Blades of Drakon, the mercenary arm of our house. She was rarely home not that I ever saw her always off training new recruits, taking contracts or peace keeping.
My father, meanwhile, was the Merchant Guildmaster. He ran operations across Volantis and beyond. Trade, politics, and coin were his domain and business was good. As for me? I was raised in the Drakon estate by Storia Drak, my nanny, my teacher, my protector… and in many ways, my mother.
She was a towering woman with rich brown skin, sun-golden eyes, and short black hair that curled above her ears. Always clad in armor, even indoors, she exuded discipline and focus. Her blade never left her side. She rarely left mind to the point it was so damn suffocating
She was also kind. Sometimes it scared me how freaking kind she was to me but I seen her beat men twice her size whenever we were in the market in town. They even outnumber her sometimes and she beat them in minutes without even getting winded. When they realized who she was the men would get on their knees and beg for mercy.
She would take me and walk past them saying "Don't ask for my forgiveness your stealing the young master's precious time."
She had been with me since the moment I could remember—feeding me, protecting me, teaching me. It was her who cradled me when I cried. She who whispered stories to me during my fevers. She who held me to her breast and kept me alive in ways no wet nurse ever could. It was weird to be aware of all this and at the same time I never felt so loved by a woman. I know it wouldn't last forever but I know in this life she is one of the view people I can trust.
She wasn't just my caretaker or bodyguard. She is my family. "Repeat back to me, Samar," she said, standing before the chalkboard that curved into the stone wall of my private study. "Who ruled Westeros before Aegon's Conquest?"
I straightened my small back and said clearly, "The Seven Kingdoms were ruled separately. Notably, the Storm Kings of House Durrandon in the Stormlands, the Kings of Winter of House Stark in the North, and the Gardeners in the Reach. There were others, like the Martells in Dorne, and the Iron Kings of House Hoare."
She nodded, pleased. "And what changed after Aegon landed?" I grinned, smug. "He burned anyone who resisted, bent the rest, and made the Iron Throne from their swords." Storia chuckled. "Good. You're five, and I bet you know more history of that land then the nobles who were born and live there."
Every day followed a strict schedule with little no deviations. After breakfast, I received lessons in history, philosophy, mathematics, and science. History was taught with terrifying accuracy. The amount of detail in Storia's instruction often made me pause. The science was close to something I would see in Chinese medicine and yet it felt more advance for the type of time we were in.
Storia is very smart, brains and bawn and a woman in this age she is like a unicorn. Just makes me think what my parents are like. She described Westeros history as though she'd walked its fields herself. She spoke of Robert's Rebellion like she'd been there. I wondered more than once, how does this family know so much?
"Is our library really that deep?" I'd asked once.
"It is," she replied. "An more young master. It holds records of the family, stories never told ancient arts and even magic from what I understand. Many have tried to steal this knowledge. None have succeeded."
The afternoons were for physical training. Swordplay hand to hand combat, meditation and physical training. All mixed with physical education that pushed my young body to its limit. everyday.
Evenings were my favorite not because of rest from all the work, but because I was alone. I would sit cross-legged before my candle in my room, I would meditate reaching out to the force. I would feel it flowing gently through me. No telekinesis, vision or special force abilities yes. But I could feel peoples Intentions and emotions. Sometimes the way people moved before they even moved. My instincts were sharply attuned for my age Storia said. She also said it's normal to see things like this from the main family.
One night, I looked into my mirror. Every time I do it still catches me off guard. A boy would stared back. I still haven't adjusted to my new look. A boy with rich light-brown skin and, silver-platinum hair, and amethyst purple eyes. I was exotic, like something pulled from a Valyrian painting or a dream spun by the Rhoynar. I didn't look like anyone else in Volantis minus the brown skin. Past that the hair and eyes made it clear who I am, and what I am.
I barely remembered my parents. Only flashes. They were gone by the time I was able to open my eyes as a newborn and see clearly. Always working and absent. They sent the occasional letter and gift from their locations. The letters were well written and yet felt so distant at the same time. So I really never bothered with them when I had Storia.
I asked her once, "Why is your last name Drak ?"
She smiled faintly. "Because your family has two lines. The main family those of blood descendant of of the warrior princes Naerys Drakon, and her children. And the branch families distant cousins of her siblings. Along with orphans, and former slaves adopted into the family. I was found and adopted into the family and raised as a blade of Drakon."
My eyes widened. "So… you weren't born Drakon?"
"No you have to earn that young master, and I earned it. Drakon is for the main family, Drakon is for the branch family those who are born to it or earn the name. Dra is the shortest name for the trainees and initiates. Some can spend their whole life's being one."
She leaned closer. "Orphans and Slaves with potential are takin into the family. All are trained in the families ancient arts from combat to the mystical. Many who show great potential or who have many achievements get to marry into the main bloodline. Some even have children who inherit the crest."
"A few Targaryen bastards made their way here over the generations. Your great grandfather and twice grandmother were both Targaryen bastards. So who knows you may have a claim to the Iron Throne."
I laughed, but something about the way she made that statement sent a tingle to the back of my neck. That night, she tucked me into bed, tightening the dark blue blankets with the silver Drakon sigil—two wings wrapping around a three-headed flame.
As she rose, she paused. "Your parents are returning tomorrow." I froze. "Tomorrow?" She nodded. "Both your mother and father with their attendants and followers. This will be their first time in a year."
I didn't say anything at first. A strange knot formed in my chest. I should have been happy. But I was nervous. I barely knew them hell I didn't know them at all considering all I have to remember them by was the letter's and gifts they sent.
I'd never felt close to them. Not like I felt the Force or Storia's warmth. I noticed when I was born, my Force connection had weakened like a limb gone numb. It took me months to feel somewhat whole again.
Tomorrow, I would meet the faces behind them. Tomorrow, I would see what the heads of House Drakon were truly like. Hopefully they aren't as bad as I imagine. if they were close to noble like Ned Stark, I would be happy.
That night as I fell asleep I had another dream the first in months since I was born. It was of Aegon the conquer. he was in Essos meeting Naerys, who looked older as she wore Black and red armor with her sword by her said. Aegon did look older as well. it seem like they where in their mid to early forties and they looked good for their ages.
From what I could tell they were discussing Marrying their children and joining their lines. Naery's said. "That is up to my son and daughter not me." Wow so Revan hit the mark with twins nice. I could see them but the two like they were locked deep in conversation. Aegon speaking about how this is important a Targaryen needs to be on the throne for when the long night comes. Naery's will say she knows of the prophecy which surprises Aegon.
She will tell him how the man from the stars told her of the coming conflicts to come and the long night. But it's not a Targaryen that needs to be on the throne to prevent it she said looking stern but but fire and light to combat it. Then she looked at me dead in my eyes. "Do you hear that little one." The next thing I new I woke up in a cold sweat. "What the fuck was that?