The Continent of Westeros.
Since the day Aegon the Conqueror rode his dragon into battle, leading his sisters and wives — Queen Visenya and Queen Rhaenys — to crush the Seven Kingdoms, this land had known unity for the first time.
From the moment Aegon ascended the Iron Throne, that year was marked as Year 1 Aegon's Conquest, or 1 AC.
Years before unification were called BC (Before Conquest), and those after, AC.
111 AC.Early summer. Morning.
In the capital city of Westeros — King's Landing.
To the east of the Red Keep, where the great walls met the sea, there lay a small private garden — a place foreign envoys could never approach.
"White deer… dirty handkerchief… the bear in the sea…"
A small boy of five or six sat slouched beneath a great weirwood tree. His silver-gold hair shimmered faintly in the morning sun, and his eyes were an unmistakable shade of amethyst.
He muttered idly to himself, clearly bored.
"Another nightmare. Again and again — endless."
His name was Rhaegar Targaryen, a trueborn son of the blood of the dragon.
His father was Viserys Targaryen, the Fifth King of Westeros —the master of the Iron Throne.
"Your Highness Rhaegar, your birthday celebration is about to begin. The Queen is calling for you."
A young maid approached softly, bowing slightly as she spoke.
Rhaegar lifted his head. His face was pale and thin, skin almost translucent, his large violet eyes shadowed by heavy circles of exhaustion.
"I told you," he said quietly, "I don't like birthday celebrations."
The maid clasped her hands together, forcing a gentle smile. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but the Queen insists you come."
"…I understand. I'll go."
Without making things difficult for the poor girl, Rhaegar stood up and followed her back toward the Red Keep.
He was King Viserys' firstborn son.His mother, Queen Aemma Arryn, had died in childbirth.
His birthday was also the anniversary of his mother's death.
So…
To have a grand celebration every single year for that day — what a considerate act from the current Queen, Lady Alicent Hightower.
The interior of the Red Keep was vast — grand and solemn.
As they ascended to one of the upper floors, faint cries of children echoed from a nearby chamber.
Rhaegar motioned for the maid to stay outside and walked toward the open door.
Inside, a beautiful young woman in fine silks was cradling a crying little boy. At her feet, a small girl sat staring longingly at a birthday cake.
When Queen Alicent noticed Rhaegar's frail figure standing by the doorway, she immediately turned with an apologetic smile.
"Aegon's been eyeing your cake all morning. If you hadn't come soon, I don't think I could've stopped him."
(Note: In Westerosi custom, it's common to name children after ancestors.)
Rhaegar stepped inside. "It doesn't matter. If he wants to eat it, let him. How much can he possibly finish?"
"You really act like an older brother, Rhaegar."
Alicent handed the little prince Aegon to a nearby maid, then gently took Rhaegar's hand and led him to the low table.
"Your father's busy with state affairs, and Rhaenyra has run off to play again. So this year, I'll be the one to celebrate your birthday."
"Go on then — blow out the candles and make a wish."
Rhaegar said nothing.
He simply leaned forward and, as if performing a duty, blew out the candles, folded his hands, and closed his eyes.
Ever since birth, he had been frail and sickly — quiet by nature and slow to speak.
Because of the difficult birth, though Queen Aemma had been forced to undergo a cesarean section, it hadn't saved him a strong body.
Before the age of three, he had only cried once — the day he was born.
The rest of the time, he lay in a coma, fed only by milk to keep him alive.
At one point, the Grand Maester declared he would not survive "beyond the first day."
And so, he earned the name: "The One-Day Crown Prince."
But against all odds, he hadn't died.
When he turned three, a foreign sorceress treated him, and he awoke from his long slumber.
Even so, his health remained poor.
And there was one lingering side effect —constant nightmares.
Strange, fragmented dreams haunted him nightly — of dragons, of fire, of war…
They were terrifying.
He often woke in panic, his frail body weaker each time, his spirit perpetually fatigued.
"I want that! Give it to me!"
Aegon's shrill voice suddenly pierced the air, pulling Rhaegar from his thoughts.
Splatter!
A chubby little hand plunged into the cake, scattering crumbs in every direction.
A blob of cream splashed right onto Rhaegar's face.
"Seven hells! Watch Aegon!"
Queen Alicent scolded the careless maid, quickly pulling out a handkerchief to wipe Rhaegar's face. "I'm so sorry, Rhaegar. Aegon's such a mischievous little monkey. If you dislike the cake, I'll have the kitchen make you another one."
Rhaegar remained calm under her fussing. "It's fine. If my little brother likes it, we can share a piece together."
Alicent stared at his serene expression — then at Aegon, who was gleefully shoving cake into his mouth.
For just a moment, her composure nearly cracked.
Thankfully, a voice at the door broke the awkward silence.
"Your Grace, His Majesty is discussing the royal hunt and requests your presence."
A knight in gleaming silver armor and a white cloak stood at the entrance, a longsword at his hip — face grave and composed.
A Kingsguard.
There were seven in total, sworn to the king's absolute service.
Clad in white, they were known as the White Knights.
"Understood. I'll go at once."
Alicent turned back to Rhaegar with an apologetic smile. "Your father calls, so I must leave. If there's any gift you'd like for your birthday, tell me now."
"…Nothing."
Rhaegar's reply was crisp and calm.
Then, after a pause, he added softly, "If anything… I'd like to stop taking so much medicine. It's bitter."
Alicent forced a smile. "You'll have to ask your father about that."
With that, she rose and left with the White Knight, reminding the maids to take good care of the princes and princesses — and not to let them overeat.
Once Alicent had gone, the little princess sitting on the floor — nibbling at the cake crumbs — turned toward the window.
Out of nowhere, she said:"Don't disturb the sleeping beast."
Rhaegar frowned, glancing at her curiously.
The little princess was Helaena, Queen Alicent's daughter — two years old this year.
He didn't know her well.
From what the maids said, Helaena wasn't like ordinary children.
She often muttered strange words to herself, lost in her own world, speaking riddles that made no sense.
It seemed the rumors weren't wrong.
When Alicent's footsteps faded, Rhaegar turned his gaze to the happily feasting Aegon.
"You like that, don't you?" he asked, walking closer with a faint smile.
Aegon didn't even look up, just scooped another handful of frosting and shoved it into Helaena's hand before continuing to eat.
Rhaegar's lips curved slightly. "How thoughtful of you, sharing with your sister. Such a good brother deserves a reward."
"…Reward?"
At that word, Aegon finally looked up — his eyes clear but utterly vacant, innocent and stupid.
"Yes," Rhaegar said kindly. "Since you love cake so much — have more."
He reached out, grasped the back of Aegon's head, and slammed it down into the cake.
Thud!
Aegon's entire face plunged into the sticky frosting, drawing gasps of shock from the nearby servants.
Helaena blinked at the sight, then giggled, licking the cream off her little fingers.
"Prince Rhaegar, please don't!" the maid cried, rushing over in panic. "The Queen will be furious!"
Rhaegar ignored her.
He simply patted Helaena's soft silver hair and said gently:
"When you want to eat, get it yourself. Don't eat off the floor — and don't take what others throw to you."
"Brother! Heehee~"
Helaena laughed, clapping her tiny hands as she looked at Aegon's frosting-covered face.
"So silly."
Wiping the cream from his fingers, Rhaegar turned and walked out of the room — leaving behind the crying Aegon, the flustered maids, and the giggling little princess.