To be born again is something no one expects, and it was certainly not what Hikigaya Hachiman – a brooding boy with a boorish past, had expected on the first day of his highschool.
He still remembers that hurtling mass of steel and rubber breaking his body almost into two, sending him flying and then onto the cement road. His obviously beautiful and handsome fa goodce that was the topic of heartbreak for many ladies, was scraped on one side.
But that seemed to be less of a problem than all the bleeding. And he couldn't breathe.
His last thought was of Maxx Coffee.
Or so he would like himself to believe. Instead it had been a spiteful lashing at everything that existed. A wild animal snarling and thrashing moments before its death. And then Hikigaya Hachiman realized a universal truth that was so obvious it made him want to howl with laughter. No one wants to die. No matter how bad life gets.
No matter what, you say? A flicker in the void. Not a voice. More like an ever changing tune. Like a hundred marbles dropped at once. Playing out an ever changing yet coherent rhythm.
No matter what. He found himself replying.
And so the world was small again.
At first Hikigaya Hachiman realized he was. His existence was. He thought and therefore he was.
It was no easy thing, to convince himself. He found himself muttering the words to himself for hours and end without pause. Trying to assure himself. He was. Hikigaya Hachiman existed. He was.
But muttering would perhaps be the wrong word. For he had no mouth. Hikigaya Hachiman – that was his name, wanted to scrape his eyes out, unfurl his legs. Try and claw his way out of this dank hole he was entrapped in. He couldn't.
He waited for hours. Nothing happened. He waited for days. Nothing happened. He waited for an eternity. Nothing happened. He waited till the universe should have died a cold death. Nothing happened. A stygian void of nothing surrounded him. Not even black. Not even emptiness. Just. Nothing.
During those times there were two things that kept him sane and he was ashamed to admit none of those were his own mental tenacity.
One was an ethereal transcendent love. Like a soft benevolent hand caressing his very self. He felt connected to it through his soul. That he was a part of it, and in some part, made of it. Like a fish in a pond that has never eaten anything outside of immediacy.
The other was a bright star. More immediate and close. And also hot. Not like a campfire but an earthen kiln. Giving him warmth without discrimination. For him and yet not made for him. Something in its own right.
If he was some genius who could keep the track of time in his head, he would have counted exactly nine months in that place. But alas he wasn't. And so, light bursting into existence was a total surprise to him.
He found that he couldn't feel anything. Not his own skin or his own hands but he could see.
Reality was a blurry crescent for him and all sound was muffled to the point where if not for the fifteen years of his previous life, he wouldn't have been able to make anything out.
His mother was saying something
"CURSE YOU!! CURSE YOU!! CURSED YOU VISERYS YOU-YOU HALF WITTED OAF!!"
His mother was screaming.
Laid out on a grand bed and over a white sheet in a room that could only be found in the castle of a lord, he was born.
"BOAR HEADED OAF YOU!! HOW DARE YOU IMPREGNATE ME AGAIN, WASN'T AEGON DAMNING ENOUGH FOR YOU, YOU WOOL BRAINED BEAR!!"
"Vhara please!! Just push! You can curse me all you want later but please! She's almost out, just one last push."
"AND IT HAD TO BE TWO DIDN'T IT. YOU COULDN'T JUST BE GOOD WITH ONE MORE SIBLING FOR AEGON AND RHAENYS! YOU HAD TO GIVE ME TWINS YOU AUROCH OF A MAN!!"
Hachiman decided this was an embarrassing scene to witness. But again, this was his own birth. Not many people witnessed that.
Thankfully, Hachiman was spared the sight of blood and fluid by a kind handmaiden that took him in her arms and wiped his body clean with a wet cloth. She had a weirded out expression on her face, like staring at something unusual.
That was when Hachiman realized he wasn't crying. Babies usually did, right after birth.
Well, I can't start now. He thought to himself, but couldn't muse on it for long. A cry filled the room as another was born. His twin.
He heard the crying pass from far away to right next to him. Crying like thunder and fire. Like a boulder rolling down a hill.
"Congratulations Queen Vhara! Congratulations King Viserys! A healthy boy and an even healthier girl. You have been blessed with twins!!"
There was laughter, and the sounds of his supposed father congratulating and comforting his supposed mother. Just thinking about that sentence made Hachiman shiver.
But there were still the cries of his sister. His twin sister. Somewhere to his left. He reached out a small stubby hand and tried his best to find her. It was much more effort than moving a hand should have been. But it found softness in response. And so he caressed it.
And the crying stopped. The handmaids cooed at the adorable display of the newborns and broke into giggles.
"What shall be their names my lord?"
Hachiman felt himself get passed from the handmaid to his father. Him on one hand and his twin on the other. That was when he first saw a Targaryen. Ash white hair and purple eyes. A slim elegant face with a matching body covered in extravagant clothing of brilliant golds and luxurious purples.
"Sadly, Lady Vhara reserved that right after I got to name little Aegon." He chuckled before walking back to his wife and handing Hachiman and his twin over. "So what shall it be? My moonsugar?"
"No sweet words will save you Viserys Targaryen. But for now let's see." She peered down on the two of them and smiled. And Hachiman remarked how odd it was that both his father and mother had white hair and purple eyes.
"Aenar. Aenar Targaryen for the boy. And…Visenya. Visenya Targaryen for the girl. Thus they shall be called."
"Thus they shall be called." The handmaidens replied in unison.
And so the years passed by Hachiman like trees in the distance while riding a wagon. He spent most of his time thinking in those days.
And of course trying to gain knowledge. Maesters had been shocked by his natural instinct for speaking High Valyrian so easily, that they had reported it to his father and it has resulted in many praises.
But what really surprised them was the breadth of his curiosity. When other kids were asking their parents if ghosts and fae were real, little lord Aenar asked of the size of the world and the distance between places. Of the history of his bloodline and what seasonal pattern this world followed.
New Valyria. That was the name of his Kingdom. Based on the Western Coast of Essos– a continent that reminded him much of Europe, and stretching from the Hill of Norvos in the North to the Orange Shore in the South. And from the Coast to the Forests of Qothor and a little of the lands beyond, to the lands just above the ruins of Old Valyria.
And the King of this land was Viserys Targaryen. His father. And the heir to the throne was Aegon Targaryen. His elder brother.
He had breathed a sigh of relief when he found out he wasn't next in line for the throne. After all, who wanted to rule a kingdom of peasants that didn't know anything about this world?
They probably did not know that the world was round or that it was the earth that circled around the sun and not the other way around.
He had often scoffed at the maesters when he aced their mathematics with ease. It was child's play for a person educated in a civilized world.
And then one day, his very arrogance was grinded into dust.
He had gotten used to spending most of his time inside. He could not bear the smells of the city, though he would argue that he had grown tolerant of them over his twelve years here. Regardless of that, he preferred the smell of old paper and new ink, down here in the libraries of the royal family.
The walls were made from black stone that seemed to have no beams or segmentations. That had surprised him at first and he had gone to ask his father about it. But when he had said– with a happy smile and deliberation in the voice as if explaining something of uber importance– that they had been built by their ancestors using Dragons to melt stone, he had assumed it to be a technique that was once known and then lost to the world.
Regardless, it was a nice room. The black walls were draped in purple embroidery and a tapestry ran on the left wall, depicting a lady riding a dragon over what seemed to be a dense jungle.
And a large table set in the middle next to the bookshelves lined with more books than the average smallfolk– that is what they called peasants here, would see in their lives.
Of course the sounds of his pen scratching the thick bone white paper from Braavos was the only sound heard in the room. He did not have a twin sister indignantly waiting at the door. Coughing every few seconds to tear his attention to her.
After a minute, he decided that the distraction was too much and ceremoniously wiped the nib of his golden pen onto a blue cloth before setting it down.
"What is it, Rhaenys?"
A beautiful girl of seventeen with a cunningly sharp face and full red lips. She practically oozed class and elegance.
"Oh? Did dear brother finally notice little old me, waiting desperately for his attention at the door? Should I kneel now?" She jibed with a smile on her face, walking up to him with a grace that he had never seen in a seventeen-year old back home.
"So? What lowly matter have you decided to trouble your saint-like big brother with today?"
"Big brother? You're the big brother to little Visenya, Aenar. I was born Five whole years before you"
"But I'm taller than you"
"Of course." She chuckled.
She circled around the table and sat at the arm of his chair, one hand playing with his white-blonde hair and the other casually set on rubbing his hip.
This kind of intimacy had surprised him at first. He didn't remember anything like that back home. But from his memories, he had been a rather lonely only child. Or…had he been– Koma– he had a…little sister?? No he didn't. He didn't remember having one. He would remember if he had one– No way he did, he would remember if he–
When he came back to his senses, he found his head being massaged by his sister and a throbbing pain between his eyes. He had blanked out.
"What happened?"
"Hm?" Rhaenys sounded surprised. "You suddenly held your head as if hurting, and started muttering something. I didn't know you spoke Yi Tish, dear brother."
He tried to get free from his sister's grasp but she only huffed and pulled him closer. Pressing his head between her chest and putting her chin in his hair.
"Yi Tish?" He inquired.
She hummed affirmatively. "It sounded like what Maester Amory said one time he gave an example of languages in the east. He only knew two sentences but yours sounded similar."
That must have been Japanese then. I guess they speak it in the Golden Empire. He concluded.
What he spoke now, High Valyrian, was similar to French and Westerosi was basically English.
He filed away the information for later.
"So? What did you want?"
"Hmm? Can't a sister come to meet her dear beloved brother for no reason?"
"Rhaenys." He drew out in a knowing voice.
"What? I'm not joking." She sounded in genuine offense. "You spend way too much time here. Down with your books. Father is considering sending you to the Andals. In Westeros. To have you study with them at their little Citadel. Of course I gave him an earful for it. There's no way I'd let you be whisked away to those impotent faggots."
His eyebrows rose at the harsh words.
"And why must I ask, was Father discussing this with you. Instead of me."
"Of course because I have a right to. How absurd." She said as if talking about something obvious.
Now he tried one last time to break out of her grasp and succeeded. He scooted to the other end of the chair and she sat next to him.
"That's enough nonsense, Rhaenys. Tell me or leave me to my work."
"You and your work. Fine. Today is Visenya's Rite of Fire. And I want you- my and her beloved brother, to be present for it."
"Rite of Fire huh." He said with a resigned voice.
To be honest he had no idea what it was. He had skimped on Targaryen history and tradition because he concluded that he'd be educated about it by the Maesters as he became a proper teenager.
"Fine." He said while rising from the chair and dusting his dress.
It was sky blue coat with brilliant gold embroidery along the buttons, frilled cuffs. A Golden Dragon curling into a circle shone on its breast. His pants were a navy blue of the smoothest silk.
Rhaenys beamed at him, and for a moment he was taken aback by her beauty.
The wavy molten metal hair. The smooth lines of her slender face running down her body, the sleek beauty of it.
The extravagant yellow and gold of her blouse and skirt along with a streak of red running down the outfit like oozing wax. And her-
Stop it Hachiman. She's your sister. These aren't thoughts you should be having about your sister. Your OLDER sister. He reprimanded himself.
She jumped up and hugged him not before kissing his cheek.
"It's so rare for you to come out of your asceticism. Thank you so much dear brother. Let us go."
She linked their arms together and practically led him out of the room. Quite rough from a lady like her, Rhaenys had always been prim and proper. Like a Royal should be.
His twin sister Visenya was the fierce one after all, often found in dancing or brandishing a blade.
Regardless he followed, and thanked his own classes in the sword for allowing him to have enough stamina to not be exhausted during the long walk.
They climbed many stairs and passed through long and lavish hallways decorated with images of their ancestors on the walls. Either that or murals recovered from Old Valyria.
Quite a few of them had too much nudity for Hachiman to not blush at the sight.
But Rhaenys viewed them with curiosity, and not the kind found in the loins of youths.
No, it was like they appeared sacred to her.
Pure.
When they climbed a final set of stairs, the hallway was lined with large windows that let in beams of sunlight.
The temperature outside was cool, as was often in the Capital– Dracadris, due to its proximity to the ocean.
Servants scuffled through the hallways and the many rooms in sight, all making sure to stop and salute to the passing siblings of course.
Hachiman was still a little uncomfortable with this treatment. It was just something in their eyes.
They looked at him, revered him, as if he was some divine entity that ought to judge them for their sins. A blank minded obedience, Hachiman had no doubt that if he said frog they would jump without question and all the while be disappointed in themselves for not being able to jump high enough.
It unsettled him. But he had to get used to it.
He was quite literally Royalty now.
Castle Black– that is what the Royal Residence and the city surrounding it was called, was truly a labyrinthian building in it's making and he had to endure quite a walk to get to the courtyard gate.
They walked up to it and nodded to the two men with spears in their hands, standing on either side of it.
It was a giant thing– the door, enough to let in ten men abreast with no congestion.
They struggled to push it open – and these were able bodied and strong armed men, not servants.
Finally the door stood ajar and the two men stood panting. Despite their exertion they made a point to stand straight up and proud. With the symbolic black and white Targaryen cloak over their shoulders.
He couldn't help but furrow his eyebrows at this, and his look must have appeared quite sharp to them since he saw them stiffen even more.
"Why do you not have more men to help you?" He tried his best to sound casual but both of them still flinched and looked at the ground.
"My humblest apologies, Dragon Prince Aenar. There aren't enough soldiers to guard every door today. The biggest crowd I've seen in years has formed on the castle gates and almost every noble in the city is attending. And of course, Our Majesty and His Queen are in attendance too."
"So? Was this crowd not foreseen? I thought the Rite must have been announced quite some time ago." He, in reality was shooting arrows in the dark. He had no idea if it was.
But a probing question could let out answers one would not expect.
"It was, as you said, Dragon Prince Aenar. But the company of Ser Orys that was supposed to join us today for guarding has not yet arrived, and no pigeons have arrived in explanation.
We dare not take any men from the city guard since the streets are exploding with celebrations from the last eight days, My Dragon Prince. Celebrations and a lifetime's worth of troubles."
Eight days huh. That's a lot of time. This Rite must be a big deal. And what kind of trouble did Orys get himself in now. He wondered.
His jaw was set in thinking and while he didn't know, Rhaenys looked at him with a kind of fire in her eyes that could not be mistaken.
She adored that strong line of his jaw that ran down his delicious neck. The most tantalizing curve of flushed skin and strong muscles.
Ripe for biting like a red apple.
Unaware of her however, he grunted at them and asked. "What are your names?"
The soldiers blanched and then looked at each other. As if realizing something they believed to be false was true.
"My lord?" They incredulated.
"Do you want the Dragon Prince to repeat himself?"
"No, your majesty! I would not dare. I am Arrakar." The older of them– with a brown beard on his rough face replied before pointing at his young faced companion. Who was maybe a decade older than Hachiman himself. "And this is Vayrin."
"Good." He grunted and fished out two fat gold coins– A Dragon on one side and the High Valyrian scribe for New Valyria on the other, and tossed them at either soldier. "Get back to guarding now."
He didn't wait for a reaction and walked away– with Rhaenys, down the cobblestone path. The Warm Summer Sun was a little past its zenith. Half past two perhaps.
As they went on, he could hear the music in the distance. A low sort of lively thrawl that he was sure would prove much louder when approached. The garden stretched to his left for almost as far as his eye could see. The Castle walls seemed to appear small with figures hurrying across their tops.
I think I've seen malls smaller than the Courtyards of this damn place. He thought. Royalty. Ruling people with an iron fist regardless of their consent.
He had come to understand the system better through the texts in this world. Though democracy now seemed like a child's dream– beautiful and utterly unattainable, this was a world where any such republic would be brutally crushed. They would simply spend too much time arguing about things.
And so far, everyone only seemed to think good of King Viserys.
Of course they would when talking to me. Biased information. Not useless but not reliable. A laugh however, pulled him out of his musings. His elder sister was laughing her heart out besides him.
"What is it?" He made no attempt to hide his annoyance. He knew when he was being laughed at.
"Nothing. It's just…You have a reputation you know. Aenar, The Kind. The Dragon Prince that wears a Valyrian Steel Sword and asks the name of his servants sometimes. And gives them coins of gold everytime."
"I have never worn a Valyrian Steel Sword in my life."
"Rumors have a way of idealizing themselves brother. And if a fellow servant says the kind prince up in the castle wears a sword when you know he doesn't, who minds? Though, I would advise you to start wearing one soon. Father already has one fashioned for Aegon."
"Nothing. It's just…You have a reputation you know. Aenar, The Kind. The Dragon Prince that wears a Valyrian Steel Sword and asks the name of his servants sometimes. And gives them coins of gold everytime."
"I have never worn a Valyrian Steel Sword in my life."
"Nothing. It's just…You have a reputation you know. Aenar, The Kind. The Dragon Prince that wears a Valyrian Steel Sword and asks the name of his servants sometimes. And gives them coins of gold everytime."
"I have never worn a Valyrian Steel Sword in my life."
"What?"
"Fifty and One Gold Coins. That's as many as I have given away, that I can remember. With those two at the back, make it Fifty and Three. I did not know a favorable reputation cost so little."
His sister started laughing as he completed, a booming laugh as she pressed her body against him. He had to pause their walk to not start blushing at her…generosity as she pressed up against him.
She however, took her sweet time and then didn't even step away after she stopped. "You know what they say. A sword swung at the right time can save a kingdom."
"And a needle bought at the wrong time can burn the world." He replied.
"Just like you to twist words like a blacksmith, little brother."
He continued forward trying to ignore her comments. And she still had not detached herself from him, in fact she was even closer to him now.
Of course a lesser man would think that she was practically rubbing herself on his elbow. But of course, Hachiman was no such creature.
The curving turn around a castle wall revealed the occasion of today's gathering.
A large raised altar full of sand stood to his far left with lit braziers of dark metal on all four corners and servants forming a tight line around it. These of course, wore swords at their hips and not spears. Knights.
And directly opposed to this and even higher– rose purple marble stairs with red carpet on them. They climbed quite some distance before a large landing broke the ascent with two grand thrones placed on it.
The nobles formed a sort of half moon around the two places, bulging at the head of the stairs as most wanted to be nearest to where the King and Queen would sit.
On the far end Hachiman saw acrobats jumping off from poles and performing tricks mid air while showmen juggled upwards of eight balls with one hand while balancing a plate on a stick with the other.
The men and women that were gathered danced in a motley of colors to represent their respective houses and with a weird blend of free spiritedness and propriety.
There were only nobles here, and thus no smallfolk to appear prim and proper to. Yet these very nobles were their enemies that would try to curry favor with the king and his princelings for their own agendas.
As the siblings moved forward, the crowd parted in front of them. No noble wanted to stop the two or wanted to risk their annoyance.But every single one of them for some reason felt obligated to talk to the two before letting go.
"Yes Lady Rirana, I did get your letter last week, in fact…"
"Of course Lord Turaek, I will try your house's special wine."
"Of course that green tucker looks amazing on you Lady Rhiny."
"Of course Lord Triax, I will consider your offer to hunt in the Forests of Qothor with you. Of course, I will ask Aegon too."
It was like dealing with a group of the most petulant and demanding children one could muster up. Unbearable.
Hachiman was pretty sure he had a crick in his neck from all the nodding. Quite a few ladies had proposed to 'get away' from this squalor and 'discuss poetry' with him. Over a glass of strong whisky they would, he was pretty sure.
God, some of those women were married. He mused.
The worst thing was that he almost had wanted to...accept some proposition.
Hachiman had no delusions about his condition. He had been a fifteen year old boy who had been reincarnated by the stroke of some unknown deity. Now he was twelve.
Does that make me twenty-seven? I certainly don't feel like a twenty-seven year old, nor have I experienced being an adult. He pondered.
Regardless, he was a young man on the onset of puberty with good looks and political power.
He had to keep a strong hold on his base impulses or he knew that debauchery from this sudden gain in status and power would consume him.
A servant brought a gilded tray full of goblets to Rhaenys and she took one in hand before chugging.
"Wine from Old Ibbesh? Pinot?" She said while swirling the little red wine left in the gold cup.
"Herse, my lady. And Pinot is black. This is Drauvignon."
She nodded in affirmation before taking another sip.
"Listen here now, you?" She quipped and the man flinched as if he had been whipped. "You will follow me this entire evening and if I extend my hand for a glass and find it empty, I'll have your head roll."
And now the man was shaking. Hachiman frowned at the cruelty but didn't say anything. He knew Rhaenys just said that to keep him in line. Probably.
Walking forward however– and almost in the heart of the crowd, he finally recognised a face he didn't regret recognising today.
"Visenya!!" he shouted, voice barely rising above the clamor of the music. "Visenya!"
She finally heard him, turning his head to Hachiman and letting out a sharp grin.
If Rhaenys was an ornate ceremonial dagger, Visenya was a broadsword made from the finest steel. White Targaryen hair and amethyst jewels for eyes. Her hair was tied in a braid and two bangs framed her strong beautiful sharp face.
He caught sight of a poor noble boy she had almost danced to death. That was before she practically tackled him with a hug.
It hurt more than he cared to admit.
"Aenar! Aenar! Aenar!" She laughed out in joy. "You finally decided to come out of your coffers."
"Well now. That's hardly something a sister should say to her hard working older brother."
"You're only two seconds older! Will you stop? And besides, one of the handmaidens says that I actually came out before you did."
"Oh really? And how many gold coins did that admission take her to 'remember' that detail."
"Geez. You're no fun." She pouted. "I guess I'll find someone else to dance–"
"No you won't." He tucked one of the bangs behind her ear with his index finger. "Let's dance, Visenya."
She alighted with joy as they danced on to the music of the harps and the lutes and the violin,
Hachiman had no memory of the song that played for he couldn't afford to remember if he wanted to keep up with Visenya.
She danced like a minx in her white dress as her skirt bounced with every flick of her waist.
A minute later and things seemed to be building up, Hachiman could feel this electricity in the air with her laughing face as he spun her around in a circle. Then she threw herself at him. The world was a cocktail of sound and colors and joy around him.
Their bodies now pressed against each other and she led him through intricate steppings and weaves of dance, getting faster and faster until the two of them were practically spinning in a circle around each other. And so with a final flick of their hands up in the air, it ended.
He felt as if he had been on a roundabout for his entire life and it had just stopped now. He noticed the small sheen of sweat on his skin and the crowd formed around them.
Judging from their hands, they had been clapping and now they cheered in joy.
However, they could not hold his attention for long as Visenya hugged him again, burying face in the crook of his neck before kissing his cheek.
When he looked at her accusingly she only winked at him. He did not like that in the slightest.
"By the blood, you can't dance to save your life Aenar." She lit up with laughter.
"Really? Was I so bad?"
"The worst!"
"Well. I guess that's too bad. You'll have to deal with your clumsy brother for the rest of your life." He wanted to pat her head but she took hold of his wrist and guided it to her cheek before pressing his own into the back of his palm.
"Maybe I will, Aenar. Maybe I will."
He had to tear her eyes away from her small perfect pink lips. He found that the crowd around him had shifted their attention to an even more prestigious presence.
Aegon stood in a red coat with the telling of a Targaryen– pure white hair and purple eyes. He was tall– taller than even Hachiman.
He had seen some noble girls fainting at the sight of him– and why wouldn't they? Aegon Targaryen was the romantic image of a Dragon Prince and heir proper. A hard and handsome face with the Valyrian Steel Sword– Surefyre at his hip, he was the thing of novels.
Currently he was walking towards them with a small formal smile on his face. He was the kind of man Hachiman would have hated in his previous life. But now he knew better than that.
"Little Sister Visenya." He called out with arms outstretched before she hugged him curtly and giggled. "May the blessing of the old blood be upon you this day. I hope you get by without much pain."
"Hm? Is that so? Perhaps then you would not mind sharing some advice on the matter."
Aegon solemnly nodded his head. "Every instance is different. The best I can say is try to assert yourself as superior. And tell it your will is higher than it's."
"Noted. I will be sure to do the precise opposite of your advice, dear brother. To exact the best results of course."
Aegon let out a huff but smiled regardless. Before turning to Hachiman.
"Ah, little brother. I was just wondering if–"
"Lady Erie, do you hear something? A ghost perhaps? I swear spending all that time down in the–"
"Here now, Aenar." Of course this trick was useless against the big brother authority of Aegon.
He simply pulled his ear– and effectively all of Hachiman, away from Lady Erie.
She was a lady with wavy red hair and a shy countenance. As were all ladies trained in house Eratrin.
"Please don't mind my little baby brother, Lady Erie. Please continue to enjoy your beautiful evening."
Aegon leaned forward in a gentlemanly way and produced a purple flower from his red coat and tugged it on her hair.
"Do you think it's the evening that's beautiful or something else? Brother?" Hachiman butted in snarkily and color crept up her cheek as she ran into the crowd with hands holding the sides of her wide skirt up.
"So lady like, even in haste." Aegon remarked while shaking his head.
The fact that the Royal Heir was courting the sole daughter of House Eratrin was an open secret. Everyone knew about it, and no one talked about it. Other than behind closed castle doors and hushed whispers of course.
Apparently, some generations ago, a Targaryen had married into House Eratrin. And now the sole line of the house had Targaryen ancestry in it. It had been a political move on Viserys' part to announce the betrothal of Aegon and Lady Erie in their young age.
And from the stupid grin he was seeing on Aegon's face right now, Hachiman concluded that he wasn't exactly unhappy about this situation.
"Now here little brother Aenar." When he turned to him however – with that righteous frown of his, he hardly looked happy. "You need to learn to hold your tongue around ladies."
"True. I agree. I should learn from you, Dear Aegon. You, who knows how to use your tongue on the ladies with quite some experience."
"Aenar." the prince massaged the bridge of his nose while blushing his heart out. "Enough of that now. Onto something serious. Father wants you to join me and him for dinner in Dragon Moore tonight."
He raised an eyebrow at this. "Father is in the city tonight. Why not here? And besides, Dragon Moore is more than a day's travel away from Dracadris."
"You don't have to worry about all that. Just show up at the Colosseum near the library. I'll take you from there."
"Fine. I'll be sure to totally attend."
"No skipping this time." Aegon grumbled. "Father is quite upset that you 'missed' your dinner with Lady Werne."
"Fine, fine. I'll be sure to attend." This time there was no sarcasm laced in his words.
"Stand!!! in respect and bow your heads! King Viserys of House Targaryen. The Seventh of his name. Lord of Dragons. Lord of New Valyria. Lord of Light. Come!!!"
The voice was overlong and booming as the instruments playing and the music seemed to be dominated by it. Of course, the clamor didn't last long. Soon a shuffling silence stood besides the nobles as stillness took over.
Two guards stood on either side of the thrones with giant spears that had the symbol of House Targaryen etched on their heads in all its glory.
They looked too heavy to carry into actual battle. Ceremonial.
The sound of boots on marble was the only thing heard as King Viserys Targaryen walked with his Queen in hand.
Viserys was the very image of a Targaryen King with the regality he wore like a cloak around him. One could almost see the power of house Targaryen behind him oozing in a thin mirage.
Queen Vhara of course, was no worse for this. Chin up and hair tied in crown braid that imitated the golden crown on Viserys' hair. His other half.
They separated as they stood in front of the two seats– two thrones.
The Black and Red threads on the King's chest glittered in the afternoon sun as he nodded. Single mindedly, the nobles broke into cheer.
They smiled perfect smiles and hooted and harrumphed at their King before he raised a hand of his.
"Silence." And so there was Silence. "Today we gather here– me and you. Nobles of New Valyria, to commence the Rite of Fire."
Apparently the crowd must have not been informed of this, for they broke into cheer once again. And Hachiman knew the sounds of surprise.
The King basked in the cheer, laughing himself as the Queen smiled joyfully next to him. She put a hand on Viserys' hand and whispered something into his ear that made him laugh even louder.
After almost a minute of the raucous they slowly quieted down. Hachiman's ears were getting irritated. Already he missed his library.
"Now." The Guards shouted. In unison and on the top of their voices. "Royal Heir, Dragon Princess Visenya will make her way up the stairs, to receive the blessings of King Viserys and his veritable Queen."
The King chuckled at this though no one knew why.
Hachiman and Aegon were standing in an island amongst the crowd and soon another cleared up just ahead of them. Visenya stood at the center with her chin straight and hands at the side. She bowed and flicked the line of her skirt as Aegon hastily made his way to her.
Hachiman saw the two of them looking into each other's eyes and nodding before locking hands and walking up the marble stairs.
As they got up, Visenya parted crom Aegon who nodded to the King.
He kissed her forehead and made an act of straightening her hair. Queen Vhara did the same.
"For a hundred and a seven hundred it has been so."
The King cited in a formal voice and Visenya repeated word for word.
"For a hundred and a seven hundred it has been so."
"And for a Thousand. A Thousand Thousand, it shall be so."
"And for a Thousand. A Thousand thousand, it shall be so."
Hachiman pursed his lips trying to figure out what they were talking about.
"And so shall you ask."
"And so shall I ask."
"From the price of Blood and Fire." he said.
"For the gift of Scale And Steel." she said.
"Ask Dragon Princess Visenya. And let tomorrow bring your title to it's fulfillment."
"I thank the father that has held the Kingdom for Twenty-Three." That was for how long Viserys' had rules. "And thank the mother that has raised me for Thirteen."
"And I ask in this rite. I ask…" she turned around. Faced the crowd. Hachiman thought she was looking directly at him but it must have been an illusion. "I ASK FOR MERAXES!!"
The voice was declarative and final, and the nobles heard on with conformity. The Royals however.
He heard Rhaenys gasp in surprise somewhere to his left and up on the stairs, Aegon uttered her name with surprise.
The King had shock on her face and seemed to be making considerable effort to keep his arms at his sides. Queen Vhara gaped openly.
All of them seemed just about to interrupt but–
"So she has asked. And so it shall be" the guards voice boomed as they crossed the spears in front of her before taking them back and banging their butts on the floor. Once, twice and three times. "May the Old Blood bless!!"
"May the Old Blood bless, Dragon Princess Visenya!" The nobles erupted into fanatic shouts as she walked down the stairs.
Viserys seemed to have decided not to interrupt and nodded with acceptance. As if sending his own daughter to death.
The nobles gave her a wide berth and bowed when she came even remotely close to them. But Visenya kept walking.
Hachiman parted to the side along with the people surrounding him.
Visenya stopped and seemed to mouth something that no one could hear. Hachiman wanted to sprint forward and hug her. There were tears in her eyes.
She walked and walked until she climbed atop that sand filled square and the guards kneeled to her before parting a way.
The square was large– larger than any city square in Dracadris. Enough to house a–
A whistle rang out behind him. The low ticks of a throat followed by a ringing of the soft palate.
And suddenly the world changed forever.
A giant creature reared its head above the far walls of the courtyard before letting out a guttural screech that made every hair on Hachiman's body stand up straight.
It rose and rose until Hachiman thought it would never stop rising. And then it flew.
A large serpentine neck and two talon-like legs with nails long enough to be swords. Green scales dabbled unevenly with yellow smattering. Like a fresh canvas of death.
Two golden eyes at its helm looked on as it flew forward.
How is it so fast?!!?!! A DRAGON!! WHAT?!??!
Hachiman felt like he was about to puke. The Dragon on his chest seemed to burn as if in the heart of a forge.
He had heard of distant mutterings of magic and creatures that were things of stories.
He had dismissed them as jargon from an unlearned world. His eyes were wide as the world crumbled before him.
The Dragon flew on until almost atop the square before swinging upward and climbing high and high and even higher.
It almost became a dot in the audience's view before it turned back down and hurtled towards the ground at breakneck speeds.
Wings tucked in and legs forward.
The giant mass of flesh, bone and scale collided into the ground, digging into the dirt and cracking the stone beneath him.
It let out a mighty roar that shook the entire world.
And Visenya charged at it with a sword.
A sword!! A sword! That thing won't even notice a lance if it is stabbed into its eye. A sword!! Hachiman ran forward as he pushed through the crowd. He didn't care to put up appearances right now.
Soon the people gave way to the line of soldiers standing in a row on the edges of the square.
This must have been the so-called Rite of Fire. He didn't care. He had to stop this.
He crashed into the line of soldiers.
The roar of the Dragon almost deafened Visenya.
Her skirt whipped from the oncoming wind as she grimaced.
Can't do anything about it now. She thought.
Her walk forward slowly became a run as she darted to the right.
It took a second to circle the dragon's head that was many times larger than a wagon.
Finally the Valyrian steel sword dug between its green scales. The world slowed to a crawl. She secured her left hand onto one of the scales. A small anchor shot out the sleeve of her right cuff.
It went into the gash cut by her sword and secured itself into her.
It was tied to a harness that was tied around her bodice. She still would have to hold on with an iron grip but it would help.
She released a sigh as she let out a final look back where she had come from.
"Wait for me."
And so the Dragon took off.
He saw the beast vault into the air and turn every direction as if uncertain which to pick. It idled there for a moment. In the air. Turning and turning. Turning its serpentine body into itself until it seemed to have knotted itself immobile.
Only for that knot to come undone in a burst of brilliance as it shot up and away from the gathered crowd. Towards the ocean.
All hope disappeared with it over the horizon into the unreachable.
The bloodied cudgel dropped from Hachiman's hand and so did he. The guards rushed in from all sides. Each maintaining an awkward distance from him yet still projecting some authority on him.
He was a Dragon Prince. But he had cracked open a skull and broken three legs. And yet he was a Dragon Prince.
"Aenar!" It was only when the voice of the King pierced through the soldiers did they part.