They say dying is easy, it really isn't. I can't quite remember how it happened, one minute I was walking on the street alive and happy just walking along and then I wasn't, there wasn't a bright light everything just went dark.

At first I was cold and then I was warm hot like I was wrapped up in a cocoon safe, wet but alive again it was weird and then I knew why when everything started pushing on me squeezing, tightening forcing me out. And then I was alive again held by a man with platinum blonde hair and some of the most vibrant eyes I had ever seen purple to the very core. Born again where and when I didn't know.

"He's perfect," the man said whilst holding me like I was the most precious thing in the world.

"what should we name him," the man turned me and forced me to face the woman from whom I had just been born.

"Aegor" she said to my new Father.

"After my brother," he said smiling as she nodded her head. At the doorway close to the entrance of the room two small boys peeked around looking through the door frame.

"Come in my sons," he said in that slightly gravelly voice that I could just about hear, "come meet your brother Aegor".

The two young boys walked into the room holding each others small hands, it was funny they reminded me of Jaehaerys, Aegon's son from house of the dragon.

My new brothers looked up at me with curious eyes as I realised one thing.

Dammit I'm the youngest aren't I. But two seconds later I realised something even worse.

Wait purple eyes platinum blonde hair and a name as ridiculous as Aegor, damn I'm a Targaryen.

It turns out I was not a Targaryen in fact it turns out I was even worse by the time I was 3 I had learned everything I needed to know first I was stuck in the worst possible time In the history of Westeros, I was the son of a dragon seed and Queen Aemma had just died.

This meant two things; one I could become a dragon rider or be roasted alive if they didn't accept me and two I was stuck on dragon stone with 20 years until the dance of Dragons started. On a positive note I had 20 years to prepare myself or flee the continent.

By the time I was 3 I made sure I had learned how to walk, talk and I was definitely a chatty infant. My brothers both older than me were called Gaemon by three years and Baelon by two years both were near identical copies of our father who was the spitting image of a Targaryen Prince.

On the night the queen died my father told us of his father, or at least who is father could have been. Allegedly it was Prince Aemon or Prince Baelon when the two had visited Dragonstone, either way he named my two brothers after his potential fathers.

My mother on the other hand claimed to have been born when King Jaehaerys had visited the island during one of his little marriage spats with Queen Alysanne. Meaning that regardless of my father's parentage whichever brother it could have been my parents had inadvertently imitated Daemon with Rhaenyra and Jon with Daenarys.

Targaryen family fun all around am I right.

Of course I wasn't surprised given the fact that both my parents in this life look like Targaryens so they were obviously related.

A month after finding all this out a sound which I had only heard on the TV burst out above the island it was Prince Daemon having what I believed to be the dragon egg of the heir for a day at his side. As he carried out one of the deeds which would inevitably earn him the name the Rogue prince.

Of course as such a young boy there was nothing I can do, so I just sat beside my father as he gutted the day's haul from the sea that surrounded Dragonstone as the house grew even more disgusting as the smell of fish begun to permeate everything.

Two years had past since that day, my father joined the war in the stepstones when a few of the Velaryon ships came through looking for Men he took my brother Gaemon with him as his page or something like that. Baelon and Mother do the fishing now and try keep us afloat. I have the house to myself most days now so what do I do I plan.

I have Roughly eighteen years until the dance of dragons or at least I think the case it's hard to tell when you live on an Island where nothing significant happens to indicate the most significant thing your trying to avoid or take advantage of.

I can't claim a dragon yet or at least a big one if I did I might die and I really don't want to do that again so I need to find a small one.

And that was when I had my brilliant idea what if I could get an egg and raise it. Eighteen to sixteen years they would be at least as large as Vermax maybe even Sunfyre and they won't be chained down in a dragon pit which means they could be even larger.

Now where to get one that is a really good question.

As I sat outside my families house. I say house what I really mean is a hovel a place where peasants live with two bedrooms and if you don't get sleep fast enough you hear noises you really don't want hear. I saw the answer.

Silverwing flying overhead no doubt seeking food or just stretching their wings but that's the answer. If Silverwing's laid any eggs then all I need to do is sneak into the nest when she next leaves and grab one. If she is as fertile as her previous rider there is no way it won't hatch for me.

So I got to work a little while from my house about a four minute walk with tiny legs I found a small cave you couldn't really call it a cave to be honest but it was large enough for a small dragon to live in until it grew to the size of small dog.

Over a couple of days I stole the bars from a nearby houses window and used them to fashion a grate which would serve as the door to my future dragons cave. I piled small and midsized rocks around the cave entrance to make it that little bit more difficult for it to escape while also digging out a section near the front of the cave that I could pour water into to let my Dragon have something to drink.

And finally when all that was done I managed to find the entrance to Silverwing's lair.

I was ready or at least I thought I was.