As he gazed into the dancing flames, Aerys couldn't help but think of the raging inferno that was the Tragedy of Summerhall.

He found that recently much of his thoughts recently had been of fire..

'Curious.. indeed' he murmured

The tragedy, it.. it bothered him when he thought of it. But he couldn't help but reminisce.

Why had his kin been burnt by the flames that day? Were they not Targaryens? Blood of the Dragon? The last true scions of Old Valyria?

After, all fire can not kill a dragon.

Perhaps it was the burning wreckage that killed them.. Or maybe assassins? Traitors who seeked to extinguish the great light of House Targaryen.

It was a prophecy that killed them, he remembered. A prophecy foretold thousands of years ago…

He remembered that it was the prophecy which brought together his match with his weak fool of a sister, Rhaella.

His lips curled downwards as he remembered that his son, Rhaegar had been born that day.

His son Rhaegar, who was no dragon.

Yes, all he did was spend time with books and Maesters, he was no true dragon.

Sometimes Aerys wondered if Rhaegar was his son at all…

He stared dispassionately at the flames now.

They were the last dragons now that the rest were all killed, and he couldn't help but wonder if those assassins or whoever had killed them had succeeded in their mission.

Compared to the past, they were weak now.

'I will bring back the glory and greatness' he thought..

Yes, he would be a great king, who they would sing songs of.. yes.. yes….who they would all fear as well as respect..

And as he walked away from the hearth, the fires seemed to listen.. for they flickered.. and then..

and then they died.