Year 280 AC
Westeros, the Riverlands — Raventree Hall.
Morning sunlight broke over the melting snow.
In the study of the castle, a boy of about eleven or twelve sat by the window. He had silver hair, violet eyes, and wore a thick black tunic. One hand held a sketchpad, the other a charcoal pencil.
He thought for a while, observed, then began to draw.
With slow, deliberate strokes, a finely detailed sketch took shape — three oval eggs.
"Dragon eggs," he murmured.
Setting his pencil aside, Daeron Targaryen glanced at the ivy sprouting green beyond the frosted window and sighed softly.
Eleven years had already passed.
He wasn't born in this world. Daeron had been reincarnated — reborn into Westeros. Until the age of four, everything seemed normal. Then one day, his past life memories returned.
His father was Aerys II, the "Mad King," the seventeenth — and final — ruler of House Targaryen.
His mother was Queen Rhaella Targaryen.
Together, they had five children — four sons and one daughter.
Daeron was the second son, third in birth order overall.
His older siblings were Rhaegar and Shaenie. His younger brothers were Jaehaerys and Viserys, only six and four years old.
But something was… different. Very different.
In his previous life, Daeron had been a graduate student in agricultural science — helping his advisor with research, tending greenhouse crops, and relaxing with TV shows in his spare time.
He'd watched Game of Thrones.
From what little he remembered from the show, Aerys II had only two sons and one daughter. The others had either miscarried or died young. The surviving three were Rhaegar, Viserys, and Daenerys — who wasn't even born in this timeline yet.
But here? Daeron already had a full set of siblings.
All these differences began the year a red comet crossed the skies early — long before it was supposed to.
Back in 267 AC, before Daeron's older sister Shaenie was born, his parents had been staying in Casterly Rock. Queen Rhaella was heavily pregnant. Normally, she shouldn't have left King's Landing at all. But the lustful Aerys had chased Lord Tywin Lannister's wife, Lady Joanna, all the way to the Westerlands after his advances failed in court.
In the original history, Rhaella miscarried.
This time, a red comet streaked across the heavens. Aerys took it as a divine omen and summoned maesters to watch over Rhaella carefully. She gave birth to a healthy daughter two weeks later.
Two years after that, Daeron himself was born in the Red Keep. Aside from a mysterious high fever at age four, he grew strong and healthy. That was when he "awoke" — realizing something about his illness wasn't natural.
Everyone knew Targaryens had unique traits: silver hair, violet eyes, beauty that bordered on inhuman — and strange resistances.
1. They could endure high heat better than others.
2. They almost never caught colds.
Since then, Daeron had watched everyone around him carefully — pretending to be just another curious child. He studied reading and languages, learning both the Common Tongue and High Valyrian.
That knowledge revealed some unsettling truths.
After his birth, his mother suffered two more tragic pregnancies: a stillborn son named Aegon and another baby lost before birth.
It couldn't be coincidence. Someone was targeting them.
Daeron remembered house histories — especially The Chronicles of the Dance of the Dragons.
King Viserys I, long ago, had experienced something similar. The family's decline began in his reign. After having his first child, every subsequent pregnancy ended in death or miscarriage.
Viserys faced one problem: no male heir. Aerys, on the other hand, had too many sons.
History, as they say, tends to repeat itself.
Desperate for a son, Viserys drove his queen to die in childbirth and set his daughter as heir — sparking the civil war known as the Dance of Dragons. Later he remarried, fathered more sons, and upon his death, those sons and his daughter burned the realm in a war for the Iron Throne.
"Our family has always fallen the same way…" Daeron sighed to himself.
Over a century later, maesters still blamed Viserys I for half the bloodshed of that war — his indecision had cost House Targaryen nearly all its dragons.
And Aerys II wasn't much better. He couldn't even secure his own court.
When Daeron realized that pattern repeating, he couldn't just stand by.
During his younger brother Jaehaerys's birth, Daeron stayed by his mother's side constantly. Even at night, he'd quietly check on the newborn every time the wet nurse came. Only when Jaehaerys survived his first nameday did he finally relax.
His vigilance seemed to work. When Rhaella gave birth to Viserys later, everything went smoothly.
With four sons and one daughter, Aerys lost interest in his wife — and turned instead to mistresses.
But the red comet's arrival had changed more than family fates. It had changed the world itself.
Magic — long dormant — stirred again.
The citadel's "glass candles" burned once more with faint light. Pyromancers claimed to feel power returning. Daeron even saw a fire mage named Rossart ignite a flame in his bare hand — no oils, no tricks.
That part didn't shock him. Magic existed in the original story, after all. In time, dragons would even hatch again.
But this resurgence was far stronger than it should have been.
Across the land, a new substance appeared — something scholars called "vital energy." It infused crops, wildflowers, and animal products alike.
Vital energy wasn't magic. It wasn't some mystical treasure you could eat to become superhuman.
The food still tasted the same — but a few exceptional knights could sense it, awaken it, and use it to push their bodies beyond normal limits.
Those gifted warriors moved faster, hit harder, and fought longer — reaching the peak of their potential.
Rhaegar was among them.
For ordinary people, eating such foods gradually improved health and longevity. As a result, anything rich in "vital energy" became a luxury commodity across the realm — nobles paid fortunes for it.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of knocking pulled Daeron from his thoughts.
"Your Grace, the messengers from King's Landing are here again," came a voice from outside — a young knight in silver armor and a white cloak.
Daeron blinked, crumpled his drawing of the dragon eggs, and asked, "Ser Jon, who's here this time?"
"Lord Owen, and Ser Gerold Hightower, the 'White Bull,'" Jon replied gravely.
Daeron nodded. "Then it's time to return. We can't make Uncle Tytos wait."
Lord Owen Merryweather of Longtable, and Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard — both close to the crown, both men of the king's inner circle.
Even expecting this, Daeron was still surprised. His father clearly meant for him to return, no matter what.
Raventree Hall belonged to House Blackwood.
Earlier that year, Rhaegar had married Elia Martell of Dorne and moved to Dragonstone. King Aerys, furious, declared Rhaegar a traitor and threatened to strip him of his claim to the throne.
Their estrangement had become public scandal.
In contrast, Daeron's gentle, loyal demeanor — caring for his younger siblings and treating Aerys with respect — made him a favorite son. The king openly adored him and often kept him close at court.
Rumors spread quickly: perhaps Prince Daeron, not Rhaegar, would be groomed as heir.
A dangerous honor.
Rhaegar didn't care; his influence was already secure. Aerys, however, was losing his mind.
Caught between an unstable father and a powerful brother, Daeron had wisely excused himself — leaving the capital to serve as squire to Lord Tytos Blackwood in the Riverlands.
Knighthood training — and a convenient way to stay clear of royal madness.
But his peace hadn't lasted.
In just two months, King's Landing had sent messenger after messenger, each more insistent than the last.
There was no delaying it now.
When Daeron entered the great hall, he saw the towering figure of the White Bull himself — Gerold Hightower — helmeted, cloaked in white, as imposing as a wall of steel.
Beside him stood Lord Owen Merryweather, who brightened visibly at Daeron's arrival.
"Your Grace! Finally, you've joined us!" he exclaimed, stepping forward eagerly.
Daeron lifted a hand to stop him. "I know why you've come, my lord."
And just like that, he ended the formalities.