Darkness.
It was absolute. A void that swallowed thought and time alike. For a fleeting eternity, there was nothing—no self, no memory, just a hollow silence.
Then, the world exploded.
[Initialization Complete.]
[Synchronizing Soul... 100%]
Pain, sharp and jagged, tore through his senses. A sudden, violent rush of air flooded lungs that felt far too small, far too weak.
I... can't breathe...
He tried to gasp, but the effort manifested as a high-pitched, piercing wail.
"A strong cry! The Prince has a powerful voice!"
"Look at the silver... it's as pale as moonlight."
Light stabbed at his eyes, blurry and blinding. Large, distorted shapes moved in the periphery. The muffled sounds began to sharpen into a language he recognized but shouldn't.
Prince?
The word sent a ripple of cognitive dissonance through his mind.
Warmth enveloped him as he was lifted by steady hands and wrapped in coarse, heavy fabric. He was moved through the air and settled into a pair of trembling, exhausted arms.
"Let me see him..." a woman's voice whispered, thick with fatigue and love. "My son..."
He forced his heavy eyelids open.
The woman before him was breathtaking, even in her disheveled state. Sweat-slicked silver-gold hair clung to her forehead, and her violet eyes which were deep, shimmering pools of amethyst,looked at him with a tenderness that made his new heart ache.
Suddenly, his brain felt like it was being fed into a grinder.
Memories.
Two distinct lives collided.
One was a world of concrete and glass. High-speed internet. Exhausting 9-to-5 shifts. The flicker of a screen displaying a world of ice and fire.
The other was a world of blood and ash. The roar of a dragon named Caraxes. The weight of Dark Sister in his hand. The crushing political weight of a crown he never wore.
What... is happening?
A name was spoken, cutting through the haze like a Valyrian steel blade.
"Prince Daemon Targaryen."
The words were a death sentence.
Daemon... Targaryen?
He froze. He knew that name. He knew the history. He knew the fire and the blood that awaited this house.
He was in the Red Keep. The year was 81 AC. The Old King, Jaehaerys I, sat upon the Iron Throne at the height of his power.
But Daemon knew what lay ahead. The Great Council. The Dance. The extinction of the dragons. The slow, pathetic decline of the greatest dynasty to ever grace the earth.
If I follow the script, I die in a lake, taking my nephew with me while the world burns.
His tiny, soft fists clenched.
No.
I've been given a second chance. I won't be a pawn of fate or a slave to my own impulsive blood. I will save this house. I will save the dragons.
Just as his resolve hardened, a cold, mechanical pulse thrummed behind his eyes.
[Welcome, Heir of Dragons.]
[Magic Tower: Initialized.]
The room vanished.
He wasn't an infant anymore. He stood in a colossal hall carved from obsidian and shadow. Above him, a tower of impossible proportions pierced the dark, its floors glowing with ancient, blood-red runes.
The air here tasted of ozone and ancient secrets.
[Floor One: Locked.]
[Status: Mana Awakening.]
A voice, deeper than the roots of the world, echoed through the hall.
"Begin your ascent."
The vision snapped.
He was back in the warm, herb-scented room of the Red Keep. His mother, Alyssa, was humming a soft Valyrian lullaby.
But the Tower remained. He could feel it,a dormant volcano of power sitting at the base of his soul. In a world where magic was a fading ember, he had just been handed an inferno.
A slow, toothless smile spread across the infant's face.
The Rogue Prince was back. And this time, the gods would be the ones to tremble.
The exhaustion of a newborn's body was a physical weight, pulling at his consciousness. But the mind of the man once known as ...who? struggled against the fog.
The memories of his previous life were like a library caught in a storm; he could see the covers of the books : Earth, History, Engineering, Fire & Blood but the pages were blurring. He needed to anchor himself.
Focus, he told himself. I am Daemon Targaryen. Son of Baelon. Grandson of Jaehaerys. It is 82 AC.
He felt the rhythmic thrum of his mother's heartbeat. Princess Alyssa Targaryen. In the books, she was a woman of fire and laughter. In this life, she was his shield.
But his attention was drawn elsewhere.
Deep within his mind, the Magic Tower pulsed. It wasn't just a vision; it was a tether.
[Status Window]
Name: Daemon Targaryen
Age: 0 Years (Newborn)
Title: The Rogue Prince (Locked), Heir of the Tower
Current Floor: 1 (The Hall of Awakening)
Mana Core: Dormant (Awakening: 0.01%)
A System? His mental voice echoed with a mix of shock and grim satisfaction. In a world of low magic and dying dragons, I have a literal tower of sorcery in my head.
The irony wasn't lost on him. The Targaryens claimed to be closer to gods than men because they flew, but they had lost the true sorcery of Old Valyria long ago. They were just aristocrats with oversized lizards.
If I can climb this tower... I won't just be a dragon-rider. I'll be a Sorcerer-Lord.
Suddenly, the door to the birthing chamber creaked open. Heavy boots thudded against the stone floor.
"Let me see him," a booming, joyous voice commanded.
Daemon strained his neck, his weak infant muscles protesting. A man leaned into his field of vision. He had the classic Valyrian look with strong jaw, eyes like amethysts, and a mane of silver hair that caught the torchlight.
Baelon Targaryen. The Spring Prince. The man who should have been King.
"He has the look of a true dragon, Alyssa," Baelon whispered, reaching out a calloused finger to touch Daemon's tiny hand.
As their skin met, the Magic Tower reacted.
[Alert!]
Passive Mana Siphoning Initiated.
Source: High-Quality Draconic Bloodline (Baelon Targaryen).
Progress: 0.02%... 0.03%...
Daemon felt a warm spark travel from his father into his own chest. It wasn't enough to hurt Baelon, but for a newborn, it felt like drinking liquid sunlight.
So that's how it works, Daemon realized. I can grow by being near the dragons.
Baelon's laughter boomed through the stone chamber, a sound of pure, unadulterated joy. He held Daemon aloft as if presenting a trophy to the gods of Old Valyria themselves.
"Look at him, Alyssa! He doesn't flinch. Most babes squint at the light, but this one... he looks like he's judging the very air he breathes."
Daemon didn't pull away. Instead, he focused on the strange, ethereal pull in his chest.
[Alert!]
Mana Siphoning in progress...
Current Progress: 0.08%
My father is a powerhouse, Daemon thought, his infant mind processing the data with cold efficiency. But he isn't the one I need to see most.
His mind drifted to the histories he'd read in his past life. In 81 AC, the hierarchy of House Targaryen was absolute. His uncle, Prince Aemon, was the Prince of Dragonstone and the rider of Caraxes.
The Blood Wyrm.
In the original timeline, Daemon wouldn't claim that dragon until after Aemon's death in 92 AC. That was over a decade away. Too long. If he was going to prevent the Dance, he couldn't wait until he was a man grown to start gathering his pieces.
"Peace, Baelon," Alyssa murmured, reaching out. Her voice was thin, but her eyes were sharp. "Bring him back. He is a prince, not a tourney prize."
Baelon chuckled and lowered Daemon back into the warmth of his mother's arms. As the physical contact with his father broke, the "Siphoning" alert faded into the background.
[Mana Awakening: 0.10%]
[System Note: Siphoning efficiency decreases with physical distance. Direct contact with 'Dragon-Blooded' individuals or 'Valyrian Artifacts' is recommended for rapid growth.]
Artifacts, Daemon's eyes narrowed. Blackfyre. Dark Sister. The King's Crown.
The Red Keep was a goldmine of ancient power, but as a newborn, he was effectively a prisoner of his own nursery. He couldn't exactly crawl to the King's chambers and start licking the ancestral swords for mana.
I need a plan. I need to reach 1.0% to get [Dragon-Tongue]. If I can understand the dragons before I can even speak the Common Tongue, I'll have a lead that no one in the history of this world has ever possessed.
"He's gone quiet again," Baelon noted, a hint of awe in his voice. "I'll go tell the King. And Aemon. My brother will want to see his new nephew... though he might be jealous that my sons are coming so thick and fast!"
Aemon. Daemon felt a spark of interest. If Aemon came to visit, he might bring the scent of Caraxes with him. Or better yet, the Prince of Dragonstone might be wearing a piece of Valyrian jewelry.
As Baelon strode out of the room, his heavy boots echoing like drums, Alyssa looked down at her son. She brushed a strand of silver hair from his forehead.
"You have a fire in you, Daemon," she whispered, her voice dropping to a level only he could hear. "I can feel it. Don't let them put it out."
Daemon closed his eyes, pretending to drift into a newborn's slumber. But inside, he was already standing before the massive obsidian gates of the Magic Tower.
The runes on the First Floor were beginning to glow with a faint, rhythmic pulse.
I won't just be a Rogue Prince, he promised the darkness. I will be the Architect of the Dragon's Peak.
[Floor 1 Task: The First Step]
Current Progress: 0.12%
Estimated time to 1.0% at current siphoning rate: 14 Days.
As Baelon left the room, the silence of the birthing chamber was filled only by the crackle of the hearth and Alyssa's steady breathing.
Daemon felt the shift immediately. Now that his father ,a man whose presence was like a roaring bonfire was gone, he could sense the subtler, more intricate heat coming from the woman holding him.
Princess Alyssa Targaryen. She wasn't just his mother. She was the rider of Meleys, the Red Queen. One of the swiftest and most formidable dragons in the Dragonpit.
[Alert!]
Passive Mana Siphoning Resumed.
Source: High-Quality Draconic Bloodline (Alyssa Targaryen).
Affinity Detected: [Fire/Speed].
Progress: 0.13%... 0.14%...
The energy coming from Alyssa was different from Baelon's. Where his father felt like a steady, heavy hammer of power, his mother felt like a flickering, razor-sharp flame. It was more refined, more... active.
I forgot, Daemon thought, his tiny heart racing. In this era, the women of House Targaryen are just as potent as the men. Alyssa doesn't just ride a dragon; she lives for the sky.
He pressed his small face against her chest, drawing in the scent of smoke and expensive oils that clung to her skin. To the maesters, he looked like a hungry babe seeking comfort. In reality, he was a starving man at a banquet of ancient energy.
[Mana Awakening: 0.20%]
[Siphoning Efficiency Increased!]
Note: Genetic proximity and 'Dragon-Rider' status provide a 2x multiplier to Mana absorption.
At this rate, I won't need fourteen days, Daemon realized. If I stay glued to Alyssa, I can hit the 1.0% milestone within the week.
Alyssa looked down, a tired but fierce grin spreading across her face. She felt the way her son clung to her, the strength in his tiny fingers.
"You're a greedy little dragon, aren't you?" she whispered, her voice vibrating through his very bones. "Good. In this house, you must be greedy. You must take what is yours, or the world will bleed you dry."
She shifted him, her violet eyes burning with a sudden, wild light.
"As soon as I can walk, Daemon, I'll take you to the Pit. I'll show you Meleys. We'll see if the Red Queen likes the scent of my second-born."
Daemon's mind whirred. Meleys. The Red Queen was legendary for her speed. If he could siphon mana directly from a living dragon while being held by its rider... the Tower wouldn't just awaken. It would erupt.
The Dance was a tragedy of lost potential.
Daemon mused as he felt the first true threads of Mana beginning to coil in his gut, forming the foundation of his Mana Core.
The Targaryens had the keys to the heavens and used them to burn each other's gardens. I will take those keys. I will turn the Tower into a fortress that even the Doom of Valyria couldn't shake.
Outside the window, a distant, earth-shaking roar echoed across King's Landing. It was a dragon's cry likely Caraxes or Vhagar, sensing the birth of a new blood-link.
Daemon didn't flinch. He simply tightened his grip on his mother's gown.
[Progress Update]
Mana Awakening: 0.25%
Estimated time to Floor 1 Breakthrough: 4 Days.
Four days until I can speak the language of the gods, Daemon thought, a cold, predatory satisfaction settling over him. Watch out, Westeros. The Rogue Prince has a head start.