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When Dragons Dream

The Dance of the Dragons. An age scarred by blood, ambition, and political strife. As Westeros tended toward chaos, the Targaryens’ once-unshakeable legacy reached its breaking point. Born to King Viserys I and Queen Alicent, Baelon Targaryen found himself in a life that he could not control. Night after night, he is haunted by recurring Dragon Dreams. Visions of what was, might have been, and may yet come. Burdened by his fear of the future, he, along with his twin sister Helaena, try to find their way out of the chaos. But where can a Targaryen truly escape? Essos? Asshai? The wilderness of Sothoryos? And even if they flee, can they truly ever outrun what had been foreseen in their dreams? This is an AU of the Dance, with several major changes: • The addition of Baelon Targaryen, twin to Helaena. • Dragon Dreams may be shared between two dreamers deeply bonded by blood and spirit. • Visions may include alternate timelines/parallel worlds Baelon is not reincarnated; all knowledge he possesses is gained through experience or through his dreams. The story is loosely inspired by HoTD: Reincarnated as Daemon Targaryen’s Son, though it follows its own path. Also, I need to emphasise that my MC will not become King of the Seven Kingdoms. This is simply the story of a young boy trying to escape what would have been a life marred by death, betrayal and conflict. All he wants is to become stronger, so he can protect himself and his sister. Follow on Patreon for five advanced chapters: patreon.com/TaleDrifter Content was written with AI assistance: Author writes → AI edits → Author edits.
TaleDrifter · 1m Views

The Defiant Prince: The Second Dance

"That story of the Ice Dragon," Daeron said, "Those were the first words my brother had said to me in months, and it wasn't because of any row or absence from the Red Keep. It was simply because he hadn't cared to." His stance was rigid below the indifferent stars that shone above them. "I wanted a brother, but he didn't want me, and now I'm going to take everything he has." The night air tingled against the back of his neck. He did not waste words or his breath on a past that cannot be changed. "Everything, Your Grace?" "Yes," The word was as cold and sharp as a blade. "Do you believe it is considered kinslaying to wage war against your brother?" He asked mildly, "To raise your sword against him even if it's to parry a deathblow from your own kin." He never waited for Barristan to answer his question. "Whether we die by each other's hands or not, it does not matter. We have condemned one another. Not just our own lives, but those of our line." That was when Daeron turned abruptly, shifting his attention solely on Barristan. "A kinslayer is one who is cursed forever, but my family's history is written in the blood of our own kin." His eyes narrowed in thought. "But still we reign over all of Westeros," the rubies in his crown glowed like lit embers above his head. "And you still serve me, follow me." You can support me and read advance chapters on my Patreon. Join me at patreon.com/MythosMixer for exclusive content and updates!
MythosMixer · 140.2k Views

Heir of the Sundered Crown

Jaehaerys raised his chin, undaunted. This man couldn't harm him, he reminded himself, that's why he brought Prince Viserys to the capital in the first place. "I am the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. A dragon. You are nothing more than a fool who befriended one," Jaehaerys replied, having prepared that line in advance. It had the desired effect. The Small Council members turned to look at Connington. The man trembled with rage, balling his fists. Strangely, he reminded Jae of Viserys. "And if I don't?" he asked. "If you don't, Lord Baratheon will take this tale back home. Ser Jaime will wonder out loud every chance he gets why our Lord Regent was so unwilling to protect the Crown Prince though he'd been aware of his mistreatment the entire time. Soon enough, the entire realm will know." Jaehaerys tilted his head. "And I wonder how my family in the North will feel about that." "Not to mention the common people, when they hear an up-jumped minor Lord, my bannerman no less, dared to harm a Prince of the Blood. They remember the only reason you're in power is because you took advantage of the chaos at the end of the Rebellion," Lord Stannis seconded Jaehaerys, the large man and the little boy glaring at the Lord Regent in unison. His face grew so red, it matched his hair. Jaehaerys feared his head might explode. In the end, Lord vary broke the silence when he said, "Perhaps the Prince's suggestion is sound. Prince Viserys should be sent to Dragonstone. Out of sight and out of mind, as they say." Finally, Connington gave a nod. So slight, one could doubt he agreed at all. "But Daenerys stays," Jaehaerys pushed on. "I won't have her at Dragonstone where Viserys can torment her." "Fine!" Connington said, "Now, begone." "You don't order the Crown Prince around, fool!" Stannis protested. "That's quite alright, Lord Baratheon," he said, looking up at him with a small smile. "I was leaving anyway." Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patrons get access to advance chapters and help make it possible for me to keep writing. You can find me at: patreon.com/DarkLoreWriter
DarkLoreWriter · 103.4k Views

From Ruin to Renewal

He gazed upon the sea below him as the air rushed on his face. The summer years brought calm and he found some peace from seeing upon the sea extending from horizon to horizon. No past, no future, and no memory could be found within the limitless water. More peace than he had found in the last few years. He saw Cloudwynd's head turn slightly towards him, his constant companion occasionally flapping her wings to maintain their glide through the sky. He felt her concern for him, knowing when he would enter his brooding self. Dragons were passionate and took what they want, but the past few years have not been kind to him or his people, all of which Cloudwynd witnessed. "Everything will be alright, girl," he reassured in High Valyrian as he took his hand off one of her spines and reached forward to rub her neck, her bluish-greenish scales glistening in the sunlight. He got a snort from her in response, not really satisfied with his answer but decided to accept it. His only concern right now was to fly towards his destination, to ensure his people's safe passage. Beneath him were vessels ferrying those he was charged with towards their new destination, the last bastion for their people. Fifty ships carrying barely two thousand five hundred men, women, and children across water over four moon turns. Remnants of a great civilization long extinguished from the memory of those that now took their place. The land prowess of the Valyrian army through the Tarareons, cavalrymen and explorers who could boast about expanding the Freehold's reach without the dragons. Valyria's knowledge of blood magic, healing, and other rituals preserved through the Leniars. Lastly, the Rahitheons' skill as smiths, builders, and engineers preserved the wonders of Valyrian technology. The survival of their civilization and culture rested on all of them and one misstep could see the flame of Valyria die out for good. And then there was himself. Barely nine and ten, Jaenyx was the last scion of the Belaerys', one of the oldest and most powerful dragonlord families in old Valyria. A family that had great figures such as Jaenara Belaerys, the famed explorer of Sothoryos, included in their ancestry. Prompted by Valyria's leaders to recolonize the Basilisk Isles, the Belaerys' settled at the edge of Sothoryosi wilderness along with three other Valyrian families, all of whom could not hope to survive the dangers of that continent by themselves. Previous attempts to colonize the Basilisk Isles, seen as a first step towards further expansion south, had ended in failure. Yet, the new colony thrived under the Belaerys' stewardship. Being in the Basilisk Isles was what saved the colonists from the Doom. Unfortunately, despite nearly a century of inhabiting the Isles, a recent turn of events had put their people in dire circumstances and the Isles were no longer safe for them. Despairing over the coming extinction of Valyria, Jaenyx remembered that there was one other place that they could journey towards, a place where a certain dragonlord had fled to after his daugther's now prophetic warning about the destruction of the Freehold: Dragonstone. Check out my Website https://dravenshadefall-shop.fourthwall.com for early access to chapters and some exclusive content. Plus, it helps me keep writing these stories that (hopefully) keep you hooked!
DravenShadefall · 468.5k Views

Prince Aelor Targaryen Legacy

It was difficult being the son of the most hated man in Westeros. Aelor Targaryen had seen his fair share of death. He'd watched the executions of the Houses Darklyn and Hollard after the Defiance, a fifteen year old squire to Ser Barristan Selmy who'd been forced to stay behind while his mentor scaled the wall of Duskendale and rescued Aelor's father. He'd killed his first man, some hulking brute who smelled like a pig sty and fought like a boar, two years later during the waning hours of the Kingswood Brotherhood, and sent seven more men to their graves before the conflict was finished, earning his knighthood. And he'd seen men burned alive by his father for years now, more men and more situations than Aelor wished to recall. His father's nickname of the Mad King was well earned. But the deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark were… haunting. The smell of the Lord of the North's burning flesh still swirled in his nostrils, just as the sound of the man's son strangling himself as he tried to save his father still rang in his ears. Aelor was no stranger to nightmares, but he knew those deaths would haunt him until the day he died. If they ever find Rhaegar, I'll kill him myself. There are worse things in life than being labeled a kinslayer...... Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying the story, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patrons get access to advance chapters and help make it possible for me to keep writing. You can find me at: patreon.com/ScarletQuillWrites
ScarletQuillWrites · 64k Views

Wolf's Promise

The rebellion was over, Robert was king, Rhaegar was dead, Aerys was dead, Princess Elia was dead, and her children were dead. So much bloodshed, and for what? Ned did not know, nor did he much care. All he knew was that Robert was not the same man that he had been, the crown and the war had changed him, had changed them all, but Robert most of all was changed. His friend, his brother was now a mere stranger, for Ned did not think, could not think that the man who had gone drinking with him in the Eyrie, would ever dare condone the murder of children. And yet that was what his friend had done, it saddened him truth be told, it angered him even further, his friend was gone, dead, as far as he could see, there was nothing he could do, nothing that could change that, and yet, and yet something seemed as though it needed to be done. He could not in good conscience allow his friend to slip into the throes of madness, into the crutch of depression not again, not this time. Ned had not fought through the seven hells to see his friend fall into depression, at least that was what he had told himself when he had set off from King's Landing, still angry with Robert, getting to Storm's End word had come from the capital, a slaughter had occurred of some of the Targaryen's extended family, those innocent of anything but being related to Aerys, Ned had been horrified, it did not sit well with him, it reeked of Tywin Lannister. He did not know what to make of it, and yet he would do his duty if asked, and yet Lyanna came first, she had always come first for Ned, and now here he was, where she was said to be, and his heart hammered. Word had come in the form of Ashara Dayne, his brother's former lover, as to where he could find his sister, hidden in some god's forsaken tower in Dorne, the audacity of Prince Rhaegar struck him then, the fact that the prince would even consider hiding Lyanna in the home of his wife, that was something that made Ned question whether the prince had truly been sane. He had placed the northern army under the command of Lord Jeor Mormont and instructed them to return north following the lifting of the siege of Storm's End, there was no time for them to come with him. Only six others had come with him, Ethan Glover who he had found in the black cells near death but determined to serve, Ser Mark Ryswell quiet but loyal, strong and tough, then there was Martyn Cassel old, loyal and firm, Theo Wull a giant even compared to the Greatjon, Lord Willam Dustin another one of Brandon's friends and someone Ned was not sure of and finally Howland Reed, who had confessed to him the nature of Lyanna's abduction. All had become friends to him during this war, and he would trust them with his life, and yet, he knew that what they were about to see within the tower or perhaps even witness would test their loyalty. Ned sighs, he knows that things are going to grow more and more uncertain as time goes by, but he does not know whether or not that is a good thing or a bad thing. He orders his men to a halt and dismounts. He sees three white knights standing before the tower, and he knows then that his suspicions are confirmed. You can support me at my Website or Patreon at patreon.com/PerseusBlackfyre and perseusblackfyre-shop.fourthwall.com respectively, where you can early access to chapters and some exclusive content.
Perseus_Blackfyre · 69.7k Views