Chapter 1 – Born of Fire

(Summerhall - Dornish Marches, Stromlands – 9th Moon 259AC)

(Aegon Targaryen:)

Aegon, son of Prince Jaehaerys, of the mighty and grand House Targaryen cursed like a flea bottom whore as he felt his strength starting to fail him. He was only 14 years of age and suddenly found himself fighting for his life and that of his family.

When his father had dragged him to Summerhall, he had expected it to be another dull affair filled with hours of boredom and court flattery, which he would have to sit through. His grandfather of late had become obsessed with the oversized rocks that some claimed were dragon eggs, and the only interesting part of these dull affairs was watching the latest madman someone had found trying to hatch one. However, even that had grown boring, there were only some many times a boy of 14 could watch a man gabber nonsense at rocks and dance around before it became dull.

He wanted to go hunting, spar or ride, not listen to old men's dreams of dragons. So he had naturally left the royal soirée early, faking tiredness from the long journey to go read or else simply sleep. However, he now found himself half dressed, with his tunic hastily placed over his small clothes and only had one boot on, desperately trying to stay alive.

The fires licked his face as his foot slammed against the wooden frame of the door, all his might was placed in the sole act of getting the door in front of him open. However, even as he felt the fires start to burn him, it wasn't his own pain causing him the most distress but rather the screams from beyond the door. He could hear them, his family, his friends, their servants people he had known all of his life were just beyond the door and they were screaming, begging for help. He cursed as his foot failed to break the only obstacle between them.

However, he was starting to have more concerns of his own, the burning he could deal with heat had never been a problem for him but it was the smoke that was starting to sting his eyes and cog his lungs that were the real issue. His foot finally found success as the wooden door finally gave way, more as a result of the fire weakening it than his own strength but he didn't care at the moment. The way now unblocked, Aegon pushed his way into the main courtyard, the billowing smoke forcing him to lift a hand to face.

"Mother! Father! Are you there?!" Aegon's voice cried out as he began coughing and stumbling the courtyard that once provided cool air was now filled with black charring smoke, the black smog was enough to almost make him vomit. "Brother! Anyone!"

He felt himself trip on loose and broken stones, the action sending him sprawling to the floor, both pain and a large crack accompanied the fall, as his face struck the blackened and cracked foundation. He winced with pain as he felt blood pour from his broken nose as bruises started to form as well, however now that he was on the ground and below the billowing smoke he was greeted by a ghastly sight.

Not four metres from where he lay were the charred and twisted corpses of both his grandfather and namesake Aegon V and Lord Commander Sir Duncan the Tall, the latter's corpse was covering the former. Evidently, the Lord Commander's final act had been to try to shield his king and friend from the burning crumbling building they were in but it had just cost him his life. The relation of what he was staring at was enough to give him pause, a decision he quickly regretted as a breaking and creaking sound caused him to look up. Part of the courtyard balcony overhead had shattered, causing a rain of brick, mortar and wood to begin to hammer on his back.

Aegon felt what little air he had in him knocked from his lungs, and his vision start to blur as the smoke began to creep within his lungs. His mind was both racing and slowing down, with each smoke-filled breath he took he found the few thoughts he had coming to him slower and slower, but also each thought fired through his brain with the urgency that befitted the situation.

He wished he could say they were of some great importance befitting a Targaryen Prince, that they focused on the realm, duty or some great task left undone but mostly this resolved around the same basic thought.

Shit! Fuck! I'm going to die! I'M GOING TO DIE!

That was pretty much all that remained in his mind as he started and failed to try to crawl forward. He found that not only debris blocked his vain attempt at life but also the corpses. Now that he was beneath the thick layer of billowing smoke he could see them clearly now, there were about a dozen of them. Some had been crushed by falling debris, some had been roasted by the flames and still, some had merely succumbed to the smoke as Aegon himself was about to.

His vision was going blurry now the edges were becoming frayed and muted as he felt a wave of desire to sleep wash over him. It was a sweet comforting wave that was bidding him to its warm comforting embrace all he had to do was sle-

Aegon felt himself being wrenched upwards, suddenly shaking him from the siren call of the smoke-filled sleep. One moment he had been about to join his grandfather, uncles and most of the royal court in the Stranger's embrace but now suddenly found himself flying. It was a rather bumpy and disconcerting flight as he jostled up and down, somehow bounding through the burning wreck of Summerhall.

"HOLD ON!"

The air beneath him somehow spoke as he suddenly felt himself gaining speed, rushing down a corridor that was on fire as the approached a shuttered smouldering window. He felt himself twist as the air that was carrying him moved to take the brunt of the damage to the window. The damaged wooden frame splintered on impact and Aegon suddenly felt himself truly flying now.

CRASH! SPLASH!

His brief flight lasted all of three seconds and ended in cold ice water, the sudden change of environment was enough to shock him out of the lethargic stupor he had just been in. As water started pouring into his lungs replacing the smoke from before, he found his mind refocusing on survival. However, unlike last time were he had time to think and panic about the flames his dread at drowning in the ice cold water was quickly ended as strong powerful hand gripped the back of his tunic and pulled him free from the waters.

It took only a few moments until he found himself dragged from the icy waters to the bank of the stream that stood at the foot of Summerhall. Lifting his head and blinking hard his vision was still blurry but he was able to make out his saviour. Ser Gerold Hightower was panting, his face was flush, a mixture of water and ash covered him and it was clear that he had also not been on duty when whatever had happened had occurred. The valiant knight of the Kingsgaurd was also in his small clothes and was shoeless, his limited clothing was further enhanced by the fact that most of his shirt had been burnt off leaving more of charred rag clinging to his bruised and slightly burnt torso.

"Ae-gon….ar-e…you…..all…right?" Ser Hightower managed to wheeze out panting in heavy laboured breaths moving over to check him.

Aegon tried to speak but instead found himself instead emptying the limited contents of his stomach on the riverbank, it was mostly a sickly mixture of ash and the mutton he had before bed. Although the act was unpleasant he found that it greatly helped him to breath, as soon it turned from unpleasantness to mere coughing as the sludge was removed from his lungs. He quickly waved off Ser Gerrold, who had moved in alarm to try and assist him, evidently fearing his recuse had come too late. Aegon gladly then took the offered arm of the knight who lifted him on staggering feet, Ser Gerold was well deserving of the name Aegon had heard whispered and sniggered behind the knight's back.

The White Bull, the name was well earned Ser Gerold was burned, wet, exhausted and he was still moving whereas Aegon himself was all but ready to pass out.

Although it was in fact only a short walk, it took them a while to trudge away from the soft muddy land of the river bank to the firmer, safer ground of the nearby woodlands. At any other time the forest at night would likely have seen foreboding illuminated by the moon and its branches baked in the ghastly light of the burning keep. Aegon was too tired and exhausted however to notice such things and merely trudged along with the Kingsgaurd knight keeping him up until he reached the safe solid ground.

He collapsed from Ser Gerold's grip landing in a small heap by an overgrown root protruding from the earth. As he sat there his body finally allowed all feeling to return, and Aegon would forever remember the curses that he wished would have escaped his lips if he had not been too tired. Every burn, cut, bruise and remaining piece of ash in his lungs came roaring back to life now that he was safe. Aegon grimaced in pain as he felt the bruises on his back protest against the hard wooden tree root he was propped up against, he was certain something was broken, the cuts on his hands and legs stung against the cold night air and the ash in lungs prevent him from doing anything but coughing.

Ser Gerold said something that Aegon didn't quite make out, his head had decided to start ringing again, drowning out the knight's voice. The tall broad shouldered ox of a man then turned and started back towards the riverbank, clearly looking for more survivors or maybe just anything of use. Aegon just stayed where he was, his eyes turning to the only thing of note in the entire area, the burning wreckage of Summerhall.

Even if had been inclined to look away, it was impossible the scene was as mesmerising as it was horrific, the burning keep illuminated everything in brilliant hues of orange, red and green. Even the sound was entrancing, it engulfed him until he was deaf to what little of the world he could still hear. Burning timber and collapsing walls created a cacophony of noise that pierced through the ringing in his ears, assaulting his mind with the tragedy that he was witnessing.

The entire royal court had been present, his grandfather, his uncles, his own parents, and his own siblings to watch the rebirth of their power as his grandfather had declared. Every last single Targaryen had been present, gathered to watch crackpot sorcerers try to reclaim glory and now they were burning. Aegon felt cold even as the heat of burning keep warmed his body, it was a coldness that pierced his very soul, and he knew where it was coming from, it was because he was watching the death of his family.

Waaah! Waaaah!

The shrill piercing sound broke him out of the spell that had been cast over him, less so the loudness of the noise itself which was almost lost on the wind but what it unmistakable was. Aegon's eyes widen and although every fibre of his person protested it he pulled himself up and started rushing towards the sound. The hope that was filling in his chest was enough that even as his left foot started to get fresh cuts and bruises running through the light woodland he pushed himself faster. He was almost tumbling through the bushes to find the source, it was the only remaining ember of hope he had.

As he passed a large towering oak tree, he felt the air leave his body again as there laying against the tree was his twin sister Rhaella. It wasn't just her, kneeling next to her was their older brother and her husband Aerys, whose eyes were transfixed on the source of the noise that brought Aegon to them. In his sister's arm was a small baby, with a tuft of silver hair and deep purple eyes that were peering out at the world. Aegon took a tentative step forward fearing what he was seeing was some figment of his mind conjured to help deal with the trauma of the night, his sole-booted foot caused a twig to snap.

Aerys' head snapped upwards away from his sister and newborn child, his hand had reached for a branch next to him evidently fearing the shadowy figure appearing out of nowhere. However, as the fires of Summerhall roared fire as a wall collapsed, Aegon's face was illuminated revealing his face to his brother. Aerys quickly forgot his impromptu weapon instead leaping to his feet and enveloping his brother in a hug.

"Oh thank the mother, your alright Aegon." Aerys' hug almost threatened to squeeze the air from his lungs for a third time that night, when his brother broke the hug he could see the relief in his eyes. "I thought we had lost you."

"And me you, brother. I tried to get mother and father but the fires and smoke. I am so sorry, so sorry" Aegon felt tears starting to form for the first time that night, the weight of his failure pressing on him, his eyes glancing away from his brother.

"Father is fine, and so is mother," Aerys leaned down a little to capture Aegon's eyes, his brother's right hand gripping his shoulder, then pointing over to the riverbank. "Ser Harlan saved them, from the flames."

Aegon's eyes shot over to where his brother pointed and relief exploded in his chest as he saw both his father Jaehaerys and mother Shaera trying to help other survivors stumbling from the riverbank. The elderly Ser Harlan Grandison was also present, pulling the very few survivors from the waters he was still wearing the white armour of the Kingsgaurd but it was caked in mud and stained with black marks. His relief at his parent's survival was very much marred however as he soon saw them stopping in their efforts, as his mother pulled the last survivor from the river a lady in a torn dress. Ser Gerold reappeared not long after alone, his legs were caked in mud and his face was fixed in a grimace.

The two brothers stood there for a moment watching the bare handful of men and women gather in a huddle just shy of the riverbank. Aegon felt his heart fall as apart from his parents and Ser Harlan, he knew none of the other survivors who appeared to be mainly terrified servants and a few minor noblemen. They waited for a while standing together watching Summerhall burn along with the gaggle of survivors, all of whom were muted, Aegon wasn't sure if was because of fear or just the sheer ferocity of the flames.

Waaah! Waaah!

Just like before the noise of his sister's newborn broke Aegon out of his trance tearing from the horrific reality in front of him. He turned back to Rhaella who was merely smiling with joy at the bundle in her arms, ignoring everything else around her. He turned to look at his brother but Aerys was ignorant of his newborn child his eyes merely fixed on the flames rising into the sky, his twin violet orbs reflecting back the fierce flames.

Aegon did not disturb his brother he instead turned back to his twin sister moving to kneel by her side. The two of them had been close all their lives, they had entered the world together, he had been there when she had cried before her forced marriage and she had been his rock all of his life, whenever he had needed it. However, in all those years he had never seen his sister this happy, the rest of the world could have been burning down like Summerhall and she wouldn't have noticed her entire being was focused on the child in her hands.

"Aegon, meet your nephew Rhaegar…..my son," Rhaella's voice was quiet and delicate as always but for the first time since their father had forced her to marry their brother she had a happiness in her voice he thought he would never hear again. "...my son,"

Aegon felt a smile appear on his face as he looked at his beloved sister, then down to his nephew Rhaegar, the source of his sister's joy. He reached out a hand his index finger reaching for the babe who reached out in an attempt to take the offered digit. However, as he reached for his nephew a loud crash caused his head to snap away, the source of the sound was the roof of Summerhall finally giving up and crashing down, releasing the fire truly into the sky.

The feeling of a small hand brought him back to the maternal scene before him, his nephew was gripping his hand as tightly as his little hands could. Aegon looked at the babe's wide curious eyes, then to his smiling sister and then over to where his brother stood transfixed watching the flames consume Summerhall. He then looked over to his parents both covered in ash, mud and blood, barely appeal to stay on their feet as they just stood watching the Tragedy unfold before them unable to do anything to stop it.

'The great Targaryen dynasty reduced to this? And for what? Fire and Blood? I see plenty of both but where is the glory in this?' Aegon's thoughts caused him to look back to his nephew whose innocent eyes could not possibly understand the swirling of thoughts occurring in the ones gazing at him. 'The mother protect you nephew, I fear we may have doomed ourselves and all the realms'

(Authors Notes)

A while ago I got a few requests to do a story set in the world of Westeros, and as I huge fan of both the shows and the books, I was intrigued. However, I already had two stories on the go and didn't feel I needed a third. However, in truth writing has become somewhat of a labour of late so I wanted to go back to basics and try and recapture that fire that first started me.

So new story!

This one is an AU with my own original character Aegon Targaryen, who is the twin of Rhaella and younger brother to Aerys II. It is mainly a what if? scenario, based on what would have happened had there been other Targaryens around when Aerys became the mad King.

We shall explore Aegon as he builds a life in his brother's shadow and how the presence of another member of the great Dragon Dynasty may change things. We will begin with the tragedy at Summerhall and go from there. I intend to follow George R. R. Martin's method of specific character points of view, but I will see how things go.

Now to the readers of my other stories, they are 1000000% not abandoned and I will keep updating all of them as I can. It's just I needed something a little different to get my creative side going again.

Please review, follow, and favourite as you desire. And hell if you have an idea for the story just PM, I might not respond but good ideas are always welcomed