Authors note:

Welcome everyone to my story. This is my second attempt to write a Asoiaf fanfiction. The first one turned out badly, but now I am older and far more experienced in my writing. This story is based on a Crusader Kings: A game of thrones mod game I played recently. It started out as Aegon the Conquer under his quest for the Iron Throne, and so I played on after his death and continued his line.

This will be both a chapter and a family tree. The story takes place in 99 AC, and it does not follow the canon story line. I highly recommend you read the family tree, because the story wont make sense if you don't.

I hope you will enjoy this first chapter.

Family Tree:

Aegon the First (Died 37 AC)

Children with wife Rhaenys Targaryen (died 10 AC in childbirth)

- Rhaegar Targaryen (Died stillborn)

Children with wife Visenya Targaryen (died 48 AC of natural cases)

- King Maegor the Tyrant (Died 64 AC, unknown cause) ruled from 37 AC to 64 AC.

- Lord Commander Aemon the Unlucky of the Nights Watch. (died 73 AC of old age). Exiled after failed attempt to overthrow his brother to the wall in 41 AC. Elected Lord Commander in 54 AC after the death of Lord Commander Eddarion Stark.

King Maegor the Tyrant children with Corenna Darklyn (death 62 – took her own life )

- Naerys Targaryen – Stillborn

- Visenya Targaryen – Stillborn

- Aerion Targaryen – Stillborn

- King Jaehaerys Targaryen the Good

- Daegar Waters (bastard son by unknown mother)

Lord Aemon children with Lucia Tyrell (death 41 AC – executed for treason by king Maegor)

- Princess Eleana Targaryen – married to Sir Orys Baratheon (third in line to Storms End) - Her children:

- Sir Aegon Targaryen (kingsgaurd to King Jaehaerys)

- Prince Aenys Targaryen (betrothed to Lady Cassena Swann).

King Jaehaerys the Good and wife Queen Laena Velaryon – King after his father's death.

- Crown Prince Aerys Targaryen (30 years old) – married to his sister Daenerys Targaryen – no children yet.

- Daenerys Targaryen ( 28 years old) (married to the crown prince).

- Prince Daeron Targaryen (24 years old – not married) – second in line to the throne – exiled to Essos for 10 years due to unlawful relationship with Melissa Lannister. He is the leader of his own free company "The Sons of the Dragon".

- Bastard son – Baelon Rivers (7 years old).

Bastard line through Daegar Waters:

Daegar Waters (self-proclaimed Goldfyre) - (53 years old – Lord of Harrenhall) Wife – Amma Arryn (died in childbed) – Second wife Maya Tyrell (died in a hunting accident) – Third wife Shae Snow (Bastard from a northern house).

- Maegor Goldfyre (25 years old – Married to Allice Hightower)

- - Aelor Goldfyre (2 years old)

- - Lucifer Goldfyre (2 years old)

- Aegon Goldfyre (18 years old – unmarried)

- Maelys Goldfyre (10 years old – unmarried)

- Maya Goldfyre (4 years old – betrothed to Jonas Bracken, heir to lordship of Stone Hedge)

Kingsguard to Jaehaerys the first:

- Lord Commander Aegar Darklyn

- Sir Lancel Lannister

- Sir Otto Hightower

- Sir Renfred Arryn

- Sir Aegon Targaryen (nephew to the king)

- Ser Theon Grey (lowborn from the Stormlands)

- Sir Adam Tully

Daeron - I

The green boy had lost his sword just after he had beheaded the slave boy. Neighter of them could have been must older than 13. Daeron saw the fear that was written all over the boys face, and he would have been dead if not for Daeron. The would be killer had nearly got him from behind with a spear, but Daeron had managed to cut him down first. The squire stared at him with awe. "Thank you Commander… I don't know what happened..". Daeron knew what the boy must be feeling. He would never forget his own first kill either, yet the boy could not just stand where.

"Men shit themselves when they die lad, pick up your sword, or you will be the next one", Daeron scolded the green headed squire, his name already forgotten in the long list of squires serving in the company. Daeron did not have time or the patience for boys, who felt sick at their first taste of battle, and it was out of pure luck that the squire was not lying dead on the grown.

"Yes Commander, I am sorry commander". The boy picked up the sword, which he had dropped, from the muddy ground. Still trembling and pale the boy stared down at the corpse of the man, who he had just beheaded a few minutes earlier. "It was my first kill Commander… I did not expect it to be this way". The boy called to him, but Daeron had already lost interest in him, he would adapt or die here on the field, that was the way of life.

The same lesson all his men learned, and what he had learned years earlier in the fighting pits. He remembered his brothers words from years past. That was the first time Daeron had ever bedded a whore. "Life is not a game little brother. It is about time you learn that", Daeron still felt the beating, his brother had gave him that night, and he would never forget it.

Daeron turned around and walked the other way, his horse dying behind him, and probably countless of his men too, but he would not focus on that, the company was hired to win this battle, so win he they would. The Slave Master of Meereen had payed them well to deal with this little slave uprising. Daeron had grown up with more riches than most in Westeros, and he had never really cared much for either money or materialist. However, Daeron had been a slave himself, had fought in the Slave Pits of Meereen, because of a shit ship captain and a horrible kingsgaurd, who had failed to save him from the slavers, attacking their ship on the journey to Essos.

Daeron looked at the slave army, and he saw the dream of freedom in their faces. "Come and face me, come and win your freedom", Daeron shout were carried over the battlefield, the slaves closes to him starred at him for a moment, white fear all over their faces. Cowards, Daeron thought to himself, these are no true warriors. It was known even in Westeros that a war could be one the moment the leader was dead, it would only have to take a very lucky blow from one of them, and the world would be rid of another Targaryen.

War was thrilling and perfect make for him. His men often joked and said he was born to ride on a battlefield, and he would not disagree with them. And right now he had an army in front of him. It was nothing big, the Sons of the Dragon had dealt with greater threats, but still their was a feast of men waiting to meet their end at his sword. Dark Sister the ancestral sword of his family sung a beautiful song, whenever it carved through the air, Daeron had wielded the sword ever since, he was old enough to carry one, and it had never ever failed him. The sword did its duty today as well. Daeron drove through the slaves like they were helm dummies, none of them came even close to match his brutal fighting skills. A slave with some poor piss armor and a morning star rushed towards him. The morning star struck high through the air, and Daeron ducked just in time, so it would not cave in his head. Daeron quickly dashed forward and stuck Dark Sister through the slaves neck. The big bloke sank to his knees, as Daeron withdrew Dark Sister, but two more slaves were over him, before the body hit the ground.

"I WILL SPLIT YOU IN HALF AND FEAT YOU TO THE PIGS FOR THAT", the slave on his left roared, maybe it was a brother or even lover to the one he just killed. The slave would have a hard time finding any pigs here, and an even smaller chance to kill Daeron. The pig lover thrust his spear forward at the same time as the one on his right took a swing at his tight with a bloodied axe. Daeron danced out of the spears way, blocked the axe and cleaved it in two, before Dark Sister continued through the mans arm, his right hand found his dagger, which he buried in the spearman's left eye.

More and more men came and replaced the ones who felt. It was the bloody red dragon on his crest, who drew the slaves to him like crows for corpses. Daeron lost all sense of time and place, he had no idea how long the fight carried on for. Once again he just drove into the bloodlust that followed him into battle, and he felt more alive, than he ever would any other place. Battle and killing, leading men into battle, waging war, those were Daerons true strengths.

Daeron came to a pause in the long row of attacks. He had lost count of how many of the slaves, he had killed. Their faces were already long forgotten, and he allowed himself a short moment of rest. The battlefield around him was no longer recognizable. What has been a small dessert camp a few hours earlier had now changed into a burning blood sea. The high walls of Meereen could be seen in the east, and the sounds of waves could be heard from the sea to the east. The sound of the sea was strangely calming. Daeron liked the sea, it reminded him of the road he one day would take home to Westeros.

The battle was at its end, and the sounds of swords clanging, and the screams of the dying men and horses were slowly vanishing. The field was instead filled with an deafening silence of the cries, begging and breathing of the dying and suffering wounded men of both sides. Daeron did not know of their own loses, but he knew his men's strength, and their loses could no be that bad.

"Prince Daeron, the battle are over", a voice called out for him from behind. He did not need to turn around to see who was calling for his attention. Where were only one man in the company, who addressed him by his royal title instead of his war rank. Daeron ripped a piece of cloth off the nearest body and turned around cleaning his sword, he had never trusted anyone else with Dark Sister, so he always cleaned it himself. Lord Tybolt Lannister the heir to Casserly Rock. Daerons oldest friend and most trusted general, where working his way through the piles of corpses and dying men towards him. He wore his black red armor and gold cape, matching the colors of his house, and his two-handed great sword was in its scabbard on his back. Daeron was relieved to see his friend unharmed and well. Even through Tybolt was covered in blood and the golden lion on his crest plate completely vanished from side due to the blood, none of it seems to be his own.

"Well what a shame Lord Tybolt, it would have been a good day to die". Daeron put Dark Sister in its scabbard around his hip and turned away from the bloody scene around him. Tybolt caught the words, that they had shared as a greeting and battle cry since childhood. "You are right, my prince, but it is a even better day to live". They shared a short laugh in the rare moment of rest, before duty called for them again. "What of our loses", Daeron was relieved to see the calm on his friends face. "Nothing too bad, mostly the squires and old men, I have ordered some of the men to collect them and place our loses in one of our tents". Daeron gave a small nod, it was common knowledge in the company, that his dragon Silverwing had the first right to the bodies of the fallen enemies.

Daeron new horse was handed to him, the one he had rode into the battle had fallen to a brave young spearman. The lad would had killed Daeron if he had only aimed a little higher. That was a mistake Daeron had make him pay for with his life. Tybolt seated himself in his own horse at the same time. "The men will most surly want to throw a party after this". Daeron knew his friends were right, and he would allow it. "They surely will. First we have work to do, we need the field cleared, and send someone we can trust to Meereen to collect our payment".

His trusted friend turned his horse around, but before they could part ways, his face caught Daerons. "Will you honor the men with your present in the party tonight Daeron". Daeron knew Tybolt already was aware of the answer to the question, and he did not fail to notice the lack of his title in his friends question. "No, Tybolt. Not tonight, but you can send Beska to find me later". At times Daeron forgot that Tybolt was the twin brother of Melissa, the mother of Daerons child, but whatever he felt about Daerons whore, he hid it well.

Daeron rode off, before Tybolt could have the chance to answer him. The field was slowly been emptied, and Daeron ignored the cries for mercy, when he rode through the lines of men toward the camp. The bloodlust and the adrenalin from the battle was leaving his body, and he needed to rest.

In the short time after the battle, Daerons men had somehow stocked the larder with vast quantities of boar and deer and stockpiled crates of wine and beer. The company new how to throw a feat, and such a feast was to be enjoyed after a battle. They had been drinking, singing and feasted since sundown, and now many hours later the joy and songs could still be heard all over the camp.

Daeron had not joined them. He did enjoy to drink, quiet a lot actually, but he never feasted with his men. It would not be proper for them to see their loved but also feared commander drunk like a simple fool, because that was, what he truly was right now. He had a taste for wine, and when he first get started on it, he could never stop again, before he would pass out. Daeron did not like to blame himself, he would not blame his father either. No he blamed his exile and the fighting pits for his drunkenness.

The exile had taught Daeron a great deal of things, he would never had learned from some Maester back home. He had learned to lead men and women, fight, and had become a better and wiser man. The boy who had left Westeros nearly 8 years ago were gone from the world. He was not only a father now, he was also a leader. Daeron had never thought he would lead anyone, since he was the younger son, and therefor would not inherit the Throne after his father.

His father's word still rang through his heads, when he dreamed of his home. "You have overstepped your position to far this time Daeron, Lord Leo will not accept anything else than a hard punishment", the king the Westerosi had given the nickname "The Good", had been heartbroken, when he had sent his son away but Daeron understood, why it had to be done. He had left the day after on a ship to Braavos alongside its crew and one of his father's kingsgaurd. His young but fast growing dragon Silverwing had followed him too, and unknown to his father, Daeron had also brought two dragon eggs for his son.

The very same dragon had grown into a great beast of a killer, very alike to Daeron himself. He could still hear it crawling around on the former battlefield, feasting on the fallen. It had not been with him in the battle, because Daeron preferred to fight his battles without a dragons interference. Daeron remember he once had explained his reason to Tybolt, whom had come to him after he had spent two years in exile. "The Targaryen's are too used to have a dragon to back them up, I don't want to be like everyone else. What happens the day Silverwing are killed? I will learn to fight alone".

And right now Daeron walked along the dead, of cause it was only the corpses of his own men, the slaves was not worthy to lay besides the great men and woman of the company. Drinking he watched the bodies, looking for familiar faces or pieces of clothing or armor that would fit him. The loses were indeed few, but their must have been around two dozens of dead men. A lot of loot if Daeron could find something interesting, it was only fair the death had no use for it anymore.

Daeron was drunk, and that might have been the reason he nearly fell over Big Belly Keith. Daeron mood sank a bit by the sight of the fat man, he had liked him. Keith were one of the better swordsmen in the company, and he could nearly match Daerons own drinking skills. Keith had also earned his nickname, because he was by far the fattest man Daeron had ever met. It still was a wonder he was able to get up on a horse every day. The fuckers have had a hard time killing this one, Daeron counted a least ten different wounds around the body, but the final kill had come from an arrow to the eye. "I am sorry to see you go my friend, may you outdrink all the gods in the heaven", Daeron held some of his wine down in Keith open mouth, that way the two of them shared one last drink together.

A corpse a bit to the left caught Daerons eyes. He did not recognize the man, an elder man with a long white beard and grey hair, but he took a liking to the mans shining helmet. "Hello Whitebeard, I don't remember you, but you can do your duty even in death, and bring your commander a gift", Daeron knew the man had no way of hearing him, he was long done. His body had been split in half, and the left side of his face was caved in. Daeron thought that some horseshoe probably had run over the man's head after he had fallen. "Here, let me pay for that helmet, maybe you can buy a new one from one of these other fine lads in the heavens", Daeron tossed a golden dragon into Whitebeards hand, before he started to remove the helmet from the mans damaged face. It took some work to get it free, and by the time Daeron realized finally lifted it off Whitebeards face it was too ruined to ever fit over his own face.

He moved on reaching once more for the wine sack only to find it empty. Why were the wine always gone so quickly? He tossed the sack to the side, and reached from another one. The first one had been something that had tasted a bit like Arbor Gold, the second one was some piss sweetened with grapes and sugar. Angry at the poor wine he looked around to find something else to grab his attention. Two bodies stuck out to him. The one was of a woman, whose face he remembered as one of the few spear wives from Myr, the other of a young boy. Daerons interest quaked and he walked closer to them, wondering where he had seen the boy before.

The boy heads were resting on the women's breasts. Had they been alive they would probably been in the middle of making love to each other. They boy was the green headed squire, Daeron had saved from a spear under the battle. He had not died well, Daeron saw how a sword had cut his stomach open, and every bit of the boys inside were flooding out of the hole. Daeron sat down and learned back against one of the other bodies, despite himself he felt pity for the young squire.

"I would offer you some wine lad, but I am all out". The lad did not answer, as none of the other bodies had. Daeron liked to talk to the dead, they did not interrupt him or lick his ass to get some bonuses. They only listened and stayed silence forever. "I am sorry you had to die in such a poor battle. No man should be killed by a poor slave unless the slave is a pit fighter". Having been a slave himself, Daeron had learned to despise both slaves and their masters. However, when it came down to business, a man would have to pick a side, and in this case Daeron had been payed very well to fight for the masters of Meereen once more.

"I will be honest with you lad, because you have managed to find the most pretty women in this stinking tent. I do not give two shits about the Seven or any other god. Where is only one god, and his name is death". And that was the god who would come for them all one day. Daeron had been spared today, and he would be spared for many more battles to come, but one day it would be his time to leave the world of the living.

Daeron hoped he would be able to make it home to Westeros, before it was his time to leave this world. "You know I still love her, Melissa. I want to meet her again, hold her in my arms and fuck her once more". One day he would return to her and let her meet the son, who she had had to give up shortly after his birth.

Daeron turned around at the sound of footsteps apposing him, but he did not rise from the ground of dead. Only one person in the whole camp would interrupt him here and at this time. She was a beauty, nothing compared to Melissa, but Beska was yet prettier than more whores Daeron had ever met. She gave him a warm smile as she came slowly closer, naked as the day she was born. "Are you talking to the corpses again my love? What would the men think of you?". Daeron knew she was only joking. None of his men gave two shits as long as they were payed well enough.

She bend down and began to undo his trousers. "You want us to do it here". He was not surprised by it, Beska had a weird taste in locations, and Daeron would have her anyway she wanted. "You make me a promise the night you stole me. You would fuck me like no other man have ever fucked me from this night and every other night until the day you go home". Daeron had indeed done that. It had been after their first fight in the pits. He had won but spared her life, and that evening he had sent two slaves to fetch her to his chambers. The slaves have never returned, they were probably dead, but Beska had turned up as naked and willingly, as she was now.

Drunk as he was, he had allowed to forget Melissa for a while. They both knew this affair would only last as long as Daeron stayed in Essos, because Daerons one true goal in life was to return home and marry the mother of his son. It was a promise he had given her many years ago, before greater forces decided to drive them apart.

Dead men tell no tales Daeron reminded himself, and Melissa would never need to know about this. He gave the body of the squire a hard kick, so it ended up facing down. The squire was once again forgotten, now only Beska filled his mind, and he embraced her warmth with a kiss. "I will never forget that oath. I am a man who keeps his promises". Daeron kept that promise many times that night, as he fucked Beska in every way a man can have a women, while the corpses stared at them with eyes long departed from this world.…

Second authors note:

Lets have a moment of silence for our fallen brother; Big Belly Keith, Whitebeard, and Squire Green Head. They did serve as good drinking partners for our main character in the very end.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I am sorry if the last bit offended anyone, but that is the way this story will be going, so you are warned now. We will get to know much more of Daeron and his trouble past in this story. Is he insane? No or maybe a little bit. I have not decided it fully yet, but it is said in the books, that every Targaryen is touched by a bit of madness some more than others, and that is the same deal for our lovely Prince Daeron. Next chapter will return us to Westeros, and we will meet First Ranger Brandon Stark of the Nights Watch as the POW. I will try to post it as soon as I can.

Feel free to leave and review, both good and bad. I can take anything you want to throw after me, so don't feel any need to hesitate.

Until next time stay safe and have fun :)

- Carlthereader