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Bang!
A stone, clutched tightly in a pale hand, hurtled through the air, growing larger and larger in Jason Nightshade's vision.
The next moment, it connected with a sickening thud, and Jason fell heavily to the ground.
"Jace!"
A worried cry—sharp and trembling—pulled Jason back from the haze of pain and dizziness. A girl's voice, young but filled with urgency, reached him as he struggled to make sense of what had happened.
He blinked and immediately spotted a silver-haired boy standing over him, stone still in hand, ready to strike again.
Instinct kicked in before thought could take hold. Jason's fingers dug into the dirt, and with a desperate sweep, he flung a handful of sand into the boy's face.
The boy let out a strangled cry as the coarse grains struck his eyes. He staggered back, clutching his face.
Jason barely had time to catch his breath when a dark-haired boy with a lean build and a short blade dashed forward. In one swift motion, the blade slashed across the silver-haired boy's left eye.
A piercing scream filled the air, raw and full of agony. The silver-haired boy collapsed to his knees, blood trickling between his fingers as he clutched his injured eye.
"Seven gods! Stop it right now!"
The scream and chaos summoned several muscular guards clad in silver armor, their white cloaks billowing as they stormed onto the scene. The clinking of metal and the heavy thuds of boots echoed through the courtyard, their commanding presence silencing all.
"Prince Aemond, let me see!"
The lead guard, a bald man with a white beard, knelt by the injured boy and examined the wound, his expression grim. Rising swiftly, he barked orders to the others.
"Inform King Viserys at once! Summon the maester!"
In the dim light of the castle entrance, the tension was palpable. The girl, the dark-haired boy, and the guards all wore anxious expressions. Everyone knew this incident had escalated into something far beyond a mere scuffle.
But Jason—no, Jacaerys—had no time to process their worries. His pounding head and the disjointed memories flooding his mind demanded his attention.
He pushed himself upright and froze. His arms and legs were small and fragile, and his eyes barely reached the waists of the guards.
Ugh, my head still hurts… this isn't a dream!
As his mind raced, fragmented memories clawed their way to the surface, like shards of glass piercing through fog:
Year: 120 AC.
Location: High Tide, the castle of House Velaryon.
My grandfather is King Viserys I Targaryen.
My mother is Rhaenyra Targaryen, the "Realm's Delight."
And I…
I am Jacaerys Velaryon, the six-year-old second heir to the Iron Throne!
Are you kidding me?
I was just a corporate drone, a sleep-deprived social animal, burned out from endless overtime. One moment, I was at home binge-watching a show, and the next, I'm here—in the brutal world of A Song of Ice and Fire, where human lives are as fleeting as candle flames in the wind.
And if I had to transmigrate, why not land in a timeline I actually know, like the War of the Five Kings? At least then I'd have a fighting chance!
But no. Here I am, thrown into the chaos of A Dance of the Dragons. All I know is what I just finished watching from the first season of House of the Dragon.
What cruel fate awaits this body I've inherited?
As I struggled to piece together the fragments of memory swirling in my mind, the gravity of my situation became clearer.
---
In the Great Hall of Nine, the air was heavy with tension. Queen Alicent Hightower and my mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, were locked in a heated argument.
King Viserys, ever the peacemaker, tried desperately to diffuse the situation. "Let both my son and my grandsons apologize," he pleaded. "Let us resolve this with goodwill."
But Queen Alicent, her expression as cold and unyielding as winter's frost, would not yield. Her voice rang out sharply, cutting through the room. "Let Rhaenyra's son pay with one of his eyes as compensation!"
The sudden pressure of his mother's hand jolted Jacaerys back to his senses. The weight of the moment pressed down on him like an iron gauntlet.
This was no simple family quarrel—this was a pivotal moment that could shape the future of his mother's claim to the throne.
Although the original course of events would see his mother walk away with only a scratch on her arm, Jacaerys realized that allowing things to play out as they had before would only further erode Rhaenyra's already fragile authority.
If I want to survive in this world, he thought, I have to act. I have to protect her dignity as the first heir to the Iron Throne.
Taking a deep breath, Jacaerys released his mother's hand and stepped forward. His small figure seemed almost dwarfed by the vastness of the hall and the towering nobles, yet he stood straight, his voice cutting through the silence with clarity and confidence.
"Your Majesty the Queen!"
The entire hall turned their attention to him, their gazes a mixture of shock, amusement, and disapproval. Alicent's green eyes narrowed, her icy demeanor now focused entirely on the young Velaryon prince.
"I am willing to compensate for my brother's lost eye," Jacaerys declared, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "But Prince Aemond must return Vhagar to us. Moreover, according to the "laws of the Kingdom", he should lose a hand for theft!"
As Jacaerys spoke, his eyes scanned the nobles in attendance. When he mentioned the "laws of Kingdom," he emphasized the words with authority.
A murmur spread through the hall, the boldness of his words surprising the gathered nobles. Just moments ago, this child had been clinging to his mother's side, yet now he stood with authority, his words commanding attention.
Queen Alicent was now seething with rage, her eyes burning with fury as they fixed on Rhaenyra. She had no intention of stooping to the level of arguing with a mere child.
Meanwhile, Aemond, his left eye freshly stitched and still bandaged by the maester, glared fiercely at Jacaerys. His voice rose in defiance, "Vhagar has no rider; she is a wild dragon!"
Jacaerys met his gaze with a cold, calculating smile. "Even if Vhagar is a wild dragon, she resides on the Driftmark, and Driftmark is the domain of House Velaryon," he retorted sharply. His words carried weight, each syllable deliberate. "You can ask the lords here if everything within a lord's domain does not belong to their House."
The room grew tense as murmurs of agreement rippled through the gathered nobles. Aemond's declaration had been reckless, and Jacaerys had set a trap with his words, a subtle challenge to Aemond's intelligence.
Upon hearing this, Jacaerys sneered, his cold gaze locked onto Aemond. It was a calculated move, one meant to shame his opponent if Aemond dared involve the other nobles in his defense.
However, Aemond was not as impetuous as his elder brother, Aegon, who often acted without thought. Instead, Aemond's remaining eye shifted, calculating his next move before he spoke again. "So what if it's stealing? I am a Targaryen. I have the right of exemption!"
"The right of exemption?" Jacaerys scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "That's nothing more than a meaningless excuse to dismiss the lowly common folk!"
Fixing his gaze on Aemond, he continued, his voice growing firmer with each word, "Our House Velaryon hails from the Freehold of Valyria. We are an ancient and proud noble House! Aegon the Conqueror came to Westeros aboard a fleet of Velaryon ships.
"And here, in the Hall of Nine, named in honor of my grandfather Lord Corlys Velaryon's nine great voyages, you dare invoke such a baseless right?" He smirked coldly. "Perhaps you should ask my grandfather if he agrees with your so-called exemption."
The atmosphere in the hall shifted as Jacaerys's final words hung in the air. What had begun as a heated exchange between two young princes now drew the focus of the entire room toward Lord Corlys Velaryon.
All eyes turned to the Sea Snake, whose stern expression betrayed his displeasure. Yet, before Lord Corlys could speak, King Viserys intervened, his voice filled with exhaustion and finality. "Enough!"
The King's declaration silenced the hall. "In the name of the King, I declare this matter be closed!"
Thud, thud, thud!
As soon as the words were spoken, the one-armed king, whose limb had been amputated due to infection, leaned heavily on his scepter and exited without a word.
In the Hall of Nine, Aemond and Aegon stood beside Queen Alicent. Behind them were Ser Criston Cole, whose hatred for Rhaenyra stemmed from a twisted love, and Ser Otto Hightower, now once again the Hand of the King, wearing a smile that barely concealed his ambitions.
On the opposite side, Princess Rhaenyra stood protectively with her sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys. Prince Daemon Targaryen loomed at her side like a shadow, his presence commanding and dangerous. Lord Corlys Velaryon and a few other allies stood firm beside them.
Between the two factions, an invisible chasm seemed to yawn wide, a harbinger of the coming storm.
After the matter was concluded, Rhaenyra led her sons back to their chambers, where the maester tended to their minor injuries. By the time their unusually sexually deviant cheap father, Laenor Velaryon, arrived in a flurry of hurried steps, his presence did little to ease the tension in the room.
Sensing the volatile emotions simmering beneath the surface, Jacaerys quickly led his brother and the maester out of his mother's chambers, leaving Rhaenyra and Laenor alone.
"Jacaerys, come here!" The call halted Jacaerys in his tracks as he was about to return to his quarters. He turned to see his grandfather, Lord Corlys Velaryon, standing just ahead.
"Grandfather, is there something you need?"
Lord Corlys Velaryon looked at Jacaerys, noting the poise with which he stood, and a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Jacaerys, do you truly take pride in the Velaryon bloodline?"
"Of course!" Jacaerys replied without hesitation, his voice steady and confident.
"In terms of ancient lineage, House Velaryon even predates the Targaryen's!" he added with a slight smile, the pride in his words unmistakable.
Jacaerys, who had spent years navigating the intricacies of court life in his past, understood the subtext of the conversation. He knew well how to answer.
"Very well. When you inherit the Iron Throne, you will take the Targaryen name. But the Velaryon blood will still flow through your veins." Lord Corlys's tone softened as he continued, "I hope you will come to value your bloodline as much as your surname."
Jacaerys nodded with determination, his voice resolute. "I will, grandfather. Even if I take the Targaryen name, little Luke will inherit the title of Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark. House Velaryon will thrive for generations to come!"
Lord Corlys smiled broadly, a sense of pride evident in his eyes. "Well said!" he praised warmly. Stepping forward, he patted Jacaerys on the shoulder. "I hope little Luke grows to be as outstanding as you in the future."
He paused, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial tone. "By the way, little Jace, if you need anything, just ask. Both I and House Velaryon will stand firmly behind you."
Listening to the subtle change in the nickname and the almost explicit declaration of allegiance, Jacaerys smiled and nodded, replying, "Thank you, grandfather!"
That night, like many other powerful figures, Jacaerys slept uneasily. His mind was heavy with the events of the day, the delicate balance of power, and the uncertain future awaiting them all.
---
The next day, the royal family set sail back to King's Landing, leaving the coast behind.
Whoosh, whoosh!
The sound of air splitting echoed overhead as a massive shadow loomed in the sky.
Standing at the top of High Tide Castle, Jacaerys gazed up, eyes wide in awe. An ancient dragon, covered in greenish-bronze scales, soared overhead. The sheer size of the creature stunned him.
Comparing it to a Boeing 747 from his past life, Jacaerys realized that the dragon's torso alone dwarfed the plane. With its long, thick tail, the dragon's total length was easily twice that of Boeing airplanes. Its massive wings, scarred and worn from ages of flight, stretched wide, casting an enormous shadow over the castle.
Fully extended, the wings could easily cover the length of a football field. Their shadow loomed like a dark veil, blocking out the sun. The very air seemed heavy with the dragon's presence.
Jacaerys could feel a ripple of nervousness sweep through the guards and servants, many swallowing hard in fear. The aura radiating from the dragon was suffocating—a reminder of its immense power and ancient lineage.
This was the oldest and largest living dragon, Vhagar.
Named after a Valyrian god, Vhagar was more than a dragon; it was a god in its own right, a living legend from the pre-gunpowder age.
In the sky, besides Vhagar, two much smaller dragons flew alongside. One was entirely covered in shining golden scales, with wings of a soft pink hue, quite beautiful to behold.
This was Aegon's dragon, Sunfyre.
The other was slim and delicate, with a pale blue body adorned with silver streaks.
This was Helena Targaryen's dragon, Dreamfyre.
Jacaerys, gazing upward, could faintly make out the three dragonriders on their dragons, but it felt as though he instinctively knew that Aemond, riding Vhagar, was watching him closely at that very moment.
Dragon… I have one too!
As he watched the three dragons, carrying his future enemies, gradually fly further away, Jacaerys felt a strong longing to return to Dragonstone.
The next part of the story unfolded just as he had hoped.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, Laenor, and his homosexual lover staged his fake death.
After a hurried farewell to the sorrowful Velaryon family, Rhaenyra and Daemon returned to Dragonstone with their children—two sons and two daughters—to prepare for the upcoming wedding ceremony.
Upon stepping onto Dragonstone, Jacaerys made his way straight to the dragon's lair.
Hissss~
In the sweltering, dim-lit cave of the dragon's den, a dragon with green scales, roughly the size of a horse, let out a low growl and slowly approached.
"Vermax, stop!"
Jacaerys, facing the dragon for the first time, ordered in the awkward High Valyrian language.
The young green-scaled dragon seemed to understand his command. It planted its wings on the ground and tilted its head, staring at Jacaerys with its brown, vertical pupils.
Nervously licking his lips, Jacaerys slowly extended his hand toward the dragon's side.
The moment his pale hand made contact with Vermax's emerald scales, something unexpected happened!
◇◆────────────────◆◇
[Pet Name: Vermax
Owner: Jacaerys Velaryon.
Body Length: meters
Weight: kilograms.
Pet Trait Slots: 2/2.
Pet Traits: Gluttony (White): +10% in food consumption, +10% growth speed, Clumsy (Gray): -10% in agility.
Current Trait Points: 0]
◇◆────────────────◆◇
---
[Author's Note: The protagonist, Jason Nightshade, is originally named Chen Jieyang. His name was adapted for English readers to fit the tone and style of the novel.]
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[IMAGE]
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[Chapter End's]
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