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Chapter 1: Reincarnation

Logan lay amidst his own blood and organs, the remnants of a fierce battle with the new clone of himself finally bringing him to his knees. His adamantium poisoning and age had caught up with his regeneration, rendering him unable to heal. Yet, there was solace in knowing that at least Laura would not tread his path as a weapon; she had escaped the Corporation's clutches. With a smile on his face, Logan breathed his last as Laura tenderly acknowledged him as her father..

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Logan became aware of a light enveloping him. He couldn't feel the chronic pain that had been a constant presence for the last decade. His entire field of vision was filled with white light, and he tried to raise his hands to shield himself from it, but couldn't; his hands were unresponsive. After a couple of minutes of trying, he realized that he had no body and was floating before a white light.

"Don't try to see me through the light, my dear Logan. You will go insane, well, more insane than now," a melodious voice said.

"What is this? Who are you? I thought I finally died. How am I alive again?" Logan asked, his thoughts further tangled in confusion as he couldn't feel any emotions. Everything seemed muted.

"You are correct. I am Death. You are dead, and your regenerative ability has finally failed you. You are now a soul in my realm. I intercepted you on your way to your reincarnation cycle."

Logan knew he should be angry at the being for this interference, but there was no feeling. He could think logically and asked, "Why?"

"It would be a waste of your talents and skills to simply erase your memories and send you back for reincarnation. So, I've chosen you for a special task. Given your background as a mercenary, I have a job offer for you. You'll be reincarnated as a baby in a fantasy world overrun by otherworldly entities who use it for their immortality. Your mission: hunt down and eliminate these beings. Consider this a vacation to enjoy and relax in this new world. You can do as you please, but you must fulfill your task of killing the Immortal beings. Your reward? You'll be allowed to reincarnate into the body of X-24 in your world after this mission, where you can live out your life with your daughter and keep her safe."

Logan pondered rejecting the offer, but the promise of the reward gave him pause. "I agree. Which world will I be entering? How will I identify and confront these Immortal beings? Will I retain my powers there?"

"You are going to be reincarnated in the world of ASOIAF. This world is well-known in your realm due to its popular book and movie series. I see from your memories that you're familiar with the story, though it's been some time. You'll retain your mutant powers from birth, though they'll be subdued during childhood to avoid detection. Additionally, you'll inherit any magical abilities of your new body, which you'll have the opportunity to develop through training. You'll need to seek out the monsters on your own, and once you've slain the final one, I will visit you. Good luck, and see you soon."

Logan was unable to respond before the white light dimmed, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

 Kings Landing

73 AC

Prince Aemon

Aemon was roused from his sleep by a banging on his door. Recognizing it as the urgent summons of the Kingsguard, he quickly leaped from the bed, throwing on a robe to appear presentable, and called for them to enter.

 Ser Lucamore Strong bowed respectfully upon entering. "My Prince."

 Aemon nodded in acknowledgment and gestured for him to continue. "Ser, what has happened to warrant waking me in the middle of the night?"

 "My Prince, I regret to inform you that the wet nurse of Prince Gaemon has reported that the prince is experiencing difficulty breathing. His Grace is already with the young prince in the room and has requested your presence. The Grand Maester has also been summoned and may already be in attendance."

Prince Aemon's expression hardened with worry. "I will join you shortly. Allow me a moment to change from this night robe and compose myself."

Ser Lucamore bowed and exited to wait outside the room.

 Aemon began to undress, shedding the robe and selecting a shirt and pants from a nearby chair. As he dressed, his thoughts turned more toward his mother than his younger brother. He felt a deep sadness regarding Gaemon's premature birth three months prior and his fragile condition. However, his greater concern was for his mother's well-being should Gaemon's illness prove fatal. Aemon struggled with guilt, knowing he couldn't love his younger siblings as he did Baelon and Alyssa. The age gap between them was significant, creating a barrier he found difficult to bridge.

 Having dressed, Aemon left his room and made his way towards the royal chambers, his mind heavy with worry and conflicted emotions.

 Aemon entered the room and bowed respectfully. "Father, I am here as quickly as I could. I am ready to assist in any way possible. Can my brother be saved?"

 The King, lost in thoughts of his own lost children Aegon and Daenerys, watched anxiously as the Grand Maester worked to save the life of his youngest son, Gaemon. He heard the chamber door open and recognized the entrance of his beloved heir, Aemon.

 King Jaehaerys nodded solemnly. "Aemon, it is truly a dark day. I don't know how I will break this news to Alysanne. Losing our son will devastate her." His gaze remained fixed on the Maester's attempts to save Gaemon, but the prince's condition was deteriorating rapidly. His cries grew feeble, and his breathing became faint.

 The Grand Maester stopped his efforts and turned to the King. "Your Grace, I regret to inform you that the young prince is beyond help. He is departing for the Seven Heavens," the Grand Maester said, bowing respectfully, his eyes downcast with sorrow.

 Aemon drew a weary breath and sighed heavily. The king remained still, gazing at the child with a mixture of sorrow and pity.

 "It seems that even the Citadel cannot defy fate's whims, Grand Maester," the king uttered quietly, and a solemn silence fell over the room as Prince Gaemon's breathing ceased.

The Grand Maester examined the prince and delivered the somber news, "Your Grace, his breathing has stopped. He has passed to the Stranger."

 A single tear welled in the King's eye, swiftly concealed as he refused to show weakness before others. "Allow me to see him one last time before the Silent Sisters prepare his body," the king said, moving towards the crib. The Maester's assistant, holding an oil lamp for visibility, approached closer at the king's gesture.

 As the king beheld his son for the final time, he decided to return the Dragon Egg to the hatchery. As he reached for the egg, his hand was unexpectedly pierced by the scales, causing him to recoil and inspect the wound. In the commotion, the assistant lost grip of the oil lamp, and it fell towards the cradle, igniting the Dragon Egg like wildfire.

 The King, Aemon, and the Maesters jumped back in alarm as the cradle and the Egg were enveloped in increasing heat. Aemon watched in astonishment as the flames consumed the egg, the orange glow intensifying into pure white and then turning black.

 Guards swiftly summoned water to douse the fire, but before they could arrive, the flames eerily subsided.Approaching cautiously, the King examined the remains of his son and the charred Dragon Egg, when suddenly, a cry echoed from the cradle amidst the ashes. The sound startled the guards.

The King moved quickly, reaching into the ash and smoke to find his son crying with newfound strength. He was astonished, exchanging incredulous glances with Aemon and the Maesters. As the King gazed upon the child, he noticed the purple eyes slowly turning to black, reminiscent of his uncle Maegor's eyes after awakening from injuries sustained in the Trial by Seven.

 Logan, unable to silence the cries of his young body, gazed up at a man with deep purple eyes and ethereal beauty, silver hair shimmering. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness, while looking at this mysterious figure, was someone addressing the man as "My King!!!"

Authors Note:  A muse generated because of n number of question regarding whether Balerion will be the Dragon of Daemon in my story A Different Song. At that time I also read a story in which  MC/SI has balerion as a bonded dragon which culminated in this.   Logan/Gaemon will have Balerion as his dragon in this…

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Chapter 2 : Four Years Later.

Alyssa Targaryen

Alyssa Targaryen had always known there was something special about her newest younger brother, Prince Gaemon Targaryen. Even as a baby, he didn't cry unless he was wet or soiled; no other discomfort seemed to bother him. Alyssa discovered this one restless midnight when, worried about her own future pregnancy, she visited the nursery and found Gaemon lying in his crib, wide awake, with a cat—of all things—standing inside it, staring at his face.

As he grew older, it became clear that Gaemon had a unique way with creatures. His calm and steady hand could soothe even the wildest of animals, whether cats or horses. How Gaemon, at the age of three, managed to escape towards the stables was anyone's guess. It was as if he could communicate with them in a language only they understood, and in return, they respected and loved him. But today was different. Today, Alyssa was about to introduce him to the most magnificent and terrifying creatures in all of Westeros: the dragons.

She had been planning this for weeks, ever since Gaemon expressed a passing interest in seeing the dragons up close and she had learned she was pregnant. This was a training for her as well, preparing for the day she would take her own child on a dragon. Gaemon was only four years old, but his curiosity, Alyssa knew, was greater than that of most men ten times his age. The day was perfect for such an adventure—clear skies, a warm breeze, and the dragons had been particularly restless, their roars echoing across the Red Keep as if they, too, sensed something momentous was about to happen.

As they made their way down the winding stone paths that led to the Dragonpit, Gaemon's small hand clutched tightly in hers, Alyssa couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement. She had been his age when she first saw the dragons, and the memory was as vivid now as it had been then—the heat of their breath, the shimmer of their scales, the sheer power that radiated from their massive forms. It had all been overwhelming, yet there was a strange beauty in it, a wildness that called to her blood.

But Gaemon was different, she reminded herself. He wasn't just any Targaryen. He was special—he had even escaped death at birth. There was something ancient and deep in his eyes that even she couldn't fully understand. And it wasn't just because he was her brother; her father had also recognized it. Alyssa knew from Baelon that their father had been keeping a close eye on Gaemon ever since he learned to walk. Their father's foresight was warranted, as Gaemon had shown extraordinary progress in his development, even making their dour brother Vaegon jealous of the speed with which Gaemon picked up learning.

"Are we almost there, sister?" Gaemon's voice was soft, but there was an edge of anticipation that made her smile.

"Almost," she replied, squeezing his hand gently. "Are you ready?"

He nodded, his silver hair catching the light as he looked up at her with those unusually dark violet eyes that seemed to see right through her. "I'm not scared," he said, and Alyssa believed him. Gaemon had never been one to fear the unknown, not like other children his age. He was too curious and wild, too eager to learn, to ever let fear hold him back.

As they rounded the final corner, the entrance to the Dragonpit loomed before them, a massive structure of stone and iron that had stood for centuries, housing the greatest and most dangerous creatures in the world. The air grew warmer, the scent of sulfur and smoke thick in their nostrils, and Alyssa felt Gaemon's hand tighten in hers as the first low growl rumbled through the walls.

"Remember what I told you," she said quietly, kneeling down to look him in the eye. "The dragons are not like the other animals you've seen. They are wild and powerful, but they are also part of us. They will sense your feelings, so you must be calm and respectful."

Gaemon nodded solemnly, and Alyssa could see the determination in his face. He was ready.

They stepped through the gates, the heavy iron doors closing behind them with a resounding clang that echoed through the vast chamber. Inside, the air was thick with heat and the sound of scales scraping against stone. Some of the dragons were awake.

Alyssa led Gaemon forward, her eyes scanning the darkened corners where the dragons rested. Vermithor's bronze scales glowed like molten metal in the dim light, his massive head resting on his forepaws as he watched them with lazy interest. Silverwing perched on a high ledge, her wings tucked neatly at her sides as she preened her silvery feathers. The dragons had not yet returned to the cavern, and they were lying in the center of the Dragonpit under the opening in the dome.

But it was Meleys that drew Alyssa's attention. The young dragon, still small by dragon standards but already fierce and proud, could feel their bond, and Alyssa led Gaemon to the cavern holding Meleys. Gaemon frowned upon seeing Meleys bound by chains.

He took a hesitant step forward, his hand slipping from Alyssa's as he approached her dragon. Alyssa held her breath, every instinct screaming at her to pull him back, to protect him. But she didn't want her own feelings of surprise to affect Meleys more than usual as Gaemon reached the dragon before she could introduce them.

Alyssa panicked, fearing she might lose her brother, as Meleys had not experienced much human presence like other dragons with more interaction. Their bond was only two years old.

"Hello," Gaemon whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the Dragonpit. Meleys blinked, her head tilting slightly as if considering the boy before her. Alyssa immediately sent feelings of calm through their bond, but to her immense surprise, she sensed no hostility from Meleys, just pure surprise and curiosity.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The dragon and the boy simply stared at each other, and Alyssa could almost feel the air crackling with energy, as if some invisible force was passing between them. Then, slowly, Meleys lowered her head, her great snout brushing against Gaemon's outstretched hand.

"Oh, you are so beautiful, like a red queen," Gaemon whispered as he scratched the dragon's scales.

Alyssa gaped at the dragon's reaction. The only person she had ever seen scratching a dragon like this was their bonded rider. Even Alyssa couldn't pat Vhagar like this, even when Baelon was standing right beside her. For Gaemon to do this, even before she had introduced them, was unheard of.

Gaemon's face lit up with a smile, his eyes shining with a mixture of joy and wonder as he stroked the dragon's warm scales. "She likes me, sister. And she loves you," he said, his voice full of awe.

Alyssa smiled, a wave of pride and relief washing over her. "Of course she does. She is mine, and I am hers."

But even as she said the words, a pang of uncertainty crept into her thoughts. Was this what their ancestors in Valyria could do when there were hundreds of dragons from various families? Was this the same connection that had allowed men and dragons to coexist in Valyria without these magnificent beasts killing people every other day?

She shook off the thought, focusing instead on the sight of her brother and the dragon before her. She may have missed her chance to formally introduce Gaemon to Meleys, but she could still give him his first flight.

"Come, Gaemon, let's fly."

"Gladly, sister," Gaemon replied with a truly open smile that made Alyssa grin. She couldn't resist grabbing his cheeks and pinching them, causing Gaemon to splutter in disbelief and try to escape her hold by ducking under Meleys' wings.

One Hour Later

Alyssa tried to land Meleys near the center of the pit, but Meleys was reluctant to go near the Bronze Fury, who growled at her. They landed as far away from the irate dragon as possible. Alyssa wondered why the dragons of the King and Queen were in the center and not in their own caverns.

She moved to help her brother dismount, but there was no need. Gaemon was surprisingly nimble, knowing exactly where to place his foot as he slid down Meleys' wings.

The dragons had watched the scene unfold with varying degrees of interest. Vermithor merely snorted, his tail thumping lazily against the ground, while Silverwing continued her preening, seemingly unconcerned.

"Princess, Prince," the head Dragonguard acknowledged her with a nod.

"Chief, why does the Bronze Fury look irate?" Alyssa asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the large dragon.

The Chief grimaced. "The moment you left the dome, the Black Dread awoke and roared from his cavern underground. Maybe the wind and your dragon's sounds kept you from hearing it."

Alyssa was always thankful that the Dragonguards helped her by not supporting her aim to claim Balerion.

Roar!

 An earth-shattering sound echoed around the Dragonpit as Balerion roared again, as if he was waiting for someone to speak his name.

Alyssa quickly glanced at Gaemon, expecting him to be terrified by the chilling roar, but to her surprise, there was no fear in his eyes—only pity and sadness, though she couldn't understand why.

"Sister," Gaemon smiled, and for a moment, Alyssa wondered if she had imagined the sadness in his face earlier.

"Yes, Gaemon?"

"Let's see the rest of the dragons too. I want to meet them. Introduce me," Gaemon said eagerly.

Alyssa wanted to refuse, but something in Gaemon's eyes made her reconsider. "It's dangerous to approach dragons without their bonded riders nearby, Gaemon. But I will introduce you to Silverwing and Dreamfyre. They are docile and calm enough. I will check if Vhagar is in a good mood to entertain you while you spend time with them."

"I want to see Balerion too," Gaemon immediately said.

"NO!" Alyssa snapped. "I will not take you to him. He is not calm, as you just heard. Mother would feed me to Silverwing if she knew I took you to see Balerion."

For a moment, Alyssa thought Gaemon would protest, but he sighed and nodded, accepting her decision.

Alyssa was no longer surprised when Silverwing greeted Gaemon as warmly as Meleys had. The silver beast preened in pleasure as Gaemon scratched her near her wing joints, praising her shimmering scales.

After several minutes, even Vermithor barged in, pushing his large head near Gaemon to sniff him. He then growled softly and nudged Gaemon away from Silverwing, presenting his own neck for scratching, which Gaemon did with his usual enthusiasm.

It was now, out in the open, that Alyssa noticed something peculiar about Gaemon. Unlike everyone else who used their palms to scratch a dragon's scales, Gaemon was using his fists. He wasn't simply patting or stroking the dragons—he was almost kneading them, his knuckles brushing firmly against their thick scales. And come to think of it, Alyssa realized that every dragon had responded more enthusiastically to him than usual. They seemed to enjoy his touch, leaning into his fists as if craving the sensation.

Later, they ventured into the caverns to visit Dreamfyre. The majestic blue dragon awoke from her slumber, sniffing deeply as she regarded them. To Alyssa's surprise, Dreamfyre growled in clear anger. Startled by the sudden aggression, Alyssa struggled to calm the dragon in High Valyrian, but before she could speak, Dreamfyre's long head lashed out, attempting to batter them against the cavern walls. Only Gaemon's quick thinking—pushing Alyssa aside and lying flat on the ground—allowed them to escape the attack.

"Lykiri!" Gaemon's sudden command echoed through the caves, surprising Alyssa with the authority in his voice. Gaemon was already on his feet, yelling something else at the dragon.

Alyssa added her own command, "Lykiri," but Dreamfyre, recovering from her initial surprise, growled menacingly at Gaemon. The dragon began to open her mouth, and Alyssa panicked, realizing Dreamfyre was about to incinerate them.

Before they could move, or Dreamfyre could unleash her fire, an ear-splitting roar reverberated around them, drowning out everything else. This roar was nothing like the earlier one, and Alyssa knew that the entire King's Landing must have heard it.

Dreamfyre immediately recoiled as if struck by an invisible force, closing her mouth and snuffing out the flames that had built up. The blue dragon growled in frustration, but Alyssa and Gaemon didn't wait to see what she would do next—they ran from the cavern, escaping before Dreamfyre lost whatever sudden restraint had taken hold of her

Alyssa reached the center of the Dragonpit and was shocked to see both Vermithor and Silverwing cowed, lying coiled around each other. She panted and started laughing nervously as Meleys suddenly approached her, almost as if checking to see if she was unharmed.

"I'm fine, Meleys," Alyssa assured, stroking the dragon's warm scales. "It seems that Dreamfyre is nesting; she tried to attack us, Chief," she added as the Chief of the Dragonkeepers approached her.

"My princess, where is Prince Gaemon?"

"Gaemon?" Alyssa gasped, looking around in panic, realizing she had lost sight of him. Her eyes darted back to the cavern they had just fled. A deep, menacing growl echoed from within, and Alyssa cursed the gods as she deduced where Gaemon had gone.

Balerion the Black Dread, the oldest and most fearsome of all the dragons, lay in the deepest part of the pit, his massive bulk hidden in the shadows. Alyssa had never intended for Gaemon to see him—not today, not ever. Balerion was too old, too dangerous, and his temper had grown unpredictable in recent years. King Jaehaerys himself had decreed that no one was to approach the Black Dread, a decision Alyssa had once contemplated defying, only to reconsider after the sage advice of the Dragonkeepers.

"Gaemon, no!" Alyssa's voice rang out, as she sprinted towards the cavern where Balerion rested.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran, her mind swirling with fear and anger. She had been foolish to bring Gaemon here, to expose him to the dangers of the Dragonpit. Balerion was not like the other dragons. He was a relic of a bygone era, a creature of such power and ferocity that even the bravest men feared him. If he chose to attack, there would be nothing she could do to stop him.

But when she reached the shadowed alcove where Balerion rested, she found not a scene of violence or terror, but something far more unsettling.

Gaemon stood before the Black Dread, his tiny figure dwarfed by the dragon's immense size. Balerion's eyes, molten gold in color, were fixed on the boy, and there was something in his gaze that Alyssa had never seen before—something almost…gentle.

For a long moment, neither moved. The air was thick with tension, and Alyssa could feel the sweat trickling down her back as she waited, every muscle in her body tensed for action. But Balerion did not attack. Instead, he let out a low, rumbling sound, more a sigh than a roar, and lowered his massive head to the ground, his eyes never leaving Gaemon's.

Alyssa felt a wave of relief wash over her, but it was quickly followed by a deep, gnawing fear. What was this? What was happening? Balerion had never reacted to anyone this way, not since the days of Maegor. The closest was when Balerion tolerated her husband hitting him on the snout. And yet, here he was, lowering his head before a four-year-old boy, allowing him to scratch his face.

"Gaemon, come here," Alyssa called, her voice trembling despite her efforts to keep it steady. She needed to get him away from Balerion, away from the danger, before something went wrong.

But Gaemon didn't move. He stood still, his eyes wide and shining as he stared at the ancient dragon, all the while moving his fist over the dragon's scales. Balerion rumbled again, a deep, resonant sound that vibrated through the ground, and Alyssa felt a shiver run down her spine.

For a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath, and then, with a suddenness that took Alyssa by surprise, Balerion's eyes slid closed. He let out a long, weary sigh, seeming to enjoy the small human trying to scratch his scales.

Alyssa carefully walked forward until she was standing beside Gaemon. She also raised her hand to scratch the old dragon.

Gaemon stepped back, his hand dropping to his side, and turned to face Alyssa. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and there was a sadness in them that made her heart ache.

"I felt it," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I felt his pain. He's so old, Alyssa, and he's so tired and sick."

Alyssa didn't know what to say. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be all right, but the words wouldn't come. How could she comfort him when she didn't even understand what had just happened? How could she explain the kinship he had just formed with almost every creature in the Dragonpit, especially with a dragon older than their very kingdom—a kinship that no one, not even her father, had ever taught them?

She knelt down, pulling him into her arms, and held him tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. "It's okay, Gaemon," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "It's okay."

But even as she said the words, she knew that things were not okay. Something had happened here, something that would change their lives forever. And as she held her brother close, she couldn't shake the feeling that they had just crossed a line, a line that could never be uncrossed.

When they returned to the Red Keep, King Jaehaerys was waiting for them in the Great Hall. His face was as stern as Alyssa had ever seen it, his eyes cold and unforgiving as they locked onto her and Gaemon. The weight of his gaze was palpable, and the room seemed to grow hotter with every passing second.

"What were you thinking, Alyssa?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. The words cut through the air like a blade. "You were explicitly told never to take your younger siblings to the Dragonpit, especially at such a young age, and yet you disobeyed me."

Alyssa flinched at the harshness of his tone, but she refused to back down. She straightened her spine and met his gaze, trying to keep her voice steady. "He wanted to see the dragons," she said, her voice firm despite the tremor in her chest. "He's a Targaryen, just as you and I are. He has a right to see them, and you know that, Father. Besides, you gave that order regarding my other sibling who weren't interested in the dragons at such a young age. Gaemon is different." She finished with a touch of defiance, her cheekiness causing Baelon and Aemon, who were standing nearby, to groan in exasperation.

Jaehaerys' eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, Alyssa thought he might strike her. His anger was a palpable force in the room, and everyone seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the storm to break. But then his gaze shifted to Gaemon, who stood quietly beside her, his small hand clutching hers tightly. The boy's indifferent gaze seemed to give the king pause, though his anger did not diminish.

"And you," Jaehaerys said, his voice cold and sharp as a winter's wind. "What possessed you to approach Balerion? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could have been killed, Gaemon. The Black Dread is not a creature to be trifled with."

Gaemon looked up at him, his dark violet eyes wide and unblinking, the calmness of the four year old at the situation unsettling everyone except the King. "I wasn't afraid," he said softly, his voice steady and calm, a stark contrast to the tension in the room. "He wouldn't hurt me."

Jaehaerys' expression darkened at the boy's words, and he took a step forward, towering over his son with all the authority of a king. "No one is to claim Balerion ever again," he said, his voice firm and final, leaving no room for argument. "He is too old, too dangerous. I don't want to see another  Aerea after her venture to Valyria ever again.  Do you understand?"

Gaemon nodded slowly, but Alyssa could see the stubborn set of his jaw, the way his eyes flashed with a defiance that made her stomach churn with dread. He didn't agree, she realized with a sinking feeling. He didn't believe that Balerion was a threat—not to him, at least. It was a dangerous thought, one that could lead to unimaginable consequences.

But King Jaehaerys didn't notice or ignored the silent rebellion in Gaemon's eyes. He turned his back on them, his cloak billowing behind him like a storm cloud as he strode away, his steps echoing ominously through the Great Hall. "Keep him away from the Dragonpit for now, Alyssa," he called over his shoulder, his voice tight with anger and disappointment. "I will not tolerate any more disobedience."

Alyssa stood there, rooted to the spot, her heart heavy with the weight of her father's words. She felt Gaemon's small hand tighten around hers, and she squeezed back, drawing some comfort from the simple gesture. But as she looked down at him, she couldn't shake the fear that had taken root in her heart.

They had crossed a line today, one that could never be uncrossed. The bond between Gaemon and the dragons especially balerion was something that no one could have anticipated, something that might change the course of their lives—and perhaps the history of House Targaryen itself. And as much as the king wanted to protect her brother, to shield him from the dangers of their world, she knew that some things were beyond even their control.

Authors note: so FD won the poll as expected and here is the 2nd chap.  So while writing this, I had to reconsider my initial long term plotlines as they seem to be inconsistent with the  butterfly effect of gaemon's actions and balerions survival…. So I decided to experiment here.  ADS is something I have fixed plot and I will not change the plans. I have only one thing fixed here and that too in far away future. So hit me with suggestions and whether canon should happen or not.  Also know that logan already forgot major details of actual story period of Got and only thing  he knows is king jae is supposed to be the good king while queen is known as good queen and a viserys causes dance of dragons making  targaryens loose  their dragons. Maybe when actual events happens he will remember snippets here and there.

Also going forward, I will try to update monthly as one of the major reason for delay was I planned on using ADS dragonlore, valyrian history for this fic.   So to not spoil ADS I kept this on hold .

 During the long break and how much ads has moved forward,  I decided to not reuse it because ultimately it would be quite boring…  also I got another very interesting idea for the dragonlore and valyrian history for FD..  thus I don't see any problem  in regular updates for FD. 

My Discord  : to discuss and chat about the fic and future chapters..

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Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF and Marvel characters and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM and Marvel. I have no ownership to it.

Chapter 3: Passage of Time. 

Logan had spent the first four years of this life in what he could only describe as hell on earth. Reincarnation, as miraculous as it sounded, had delivered him into a gilded prison. From his earliest moments in this new life, he had observed his surroundings with the sharp mind of an adult trapped in an infant's body. However, this awareness only deepened his helplessness. No amount of experience could prepare him for the indignity of being swaddled and coddled, unable to communicate or assert himself.

It reminded him of the raw powerlessness he'd felt in his previous life's final moments—dying without the strength to change his fate. Yet, this was worse. He could feel the weight of his consciousness pressing against the walls of his body, screaming for agency.

The first two years were a haze of observation and piecing together clues. Identifying his time period and identity had been his priority, though it proved to be a monumental task. By the end of his second year, he'd managed to gather enough information to realize the staggering truth: he was a prince of House Targaryen, born into the name royal family of dragonlords.

His initial reaction had been torn between awe and dread. On one hand, he had expected to be a commoner, toiling in the dirt of a medieval world. Instead, he was surrounded by luxury—the finest silks, the richest foods, and a lifestyle others could only dream of. But this privilege came with a price. Every move he made was scrutinized, every word he spoke weighed for meaning. His awareness of his role and the future history of his house loomed over him like a shadow.

Even as a toddler, he had been cautious to suppress his impulses. He learned High Valyrian simply by listening to his family's conversations, absorbing the language like a sponge. His uncanny affinity for animals—cats, horses, and, later, dragons—was another trait that didn't escape notice. By the age of four, servants whispered of his peculiar nature, calling him "the dragon prince" not just for his lineage but for the way creatures seemed drawn to him.

Yet, not all aspects of his new life were wondrous. One of his greatest regrets was his heightened sense of smell. Even in the royal court, hygiene was lacking, and the densely packed cities carried an ever-present stench. Logan had learned to endure it, but the thought of such conditions worsening over the coming decade gnawed at him. He knew better than anyone the dangers of unchecked urban filth in a growing kingdom.

But his greatest frustration stemmed from his limited knowledge of the timeline. He recalled fragmented details of A Song of Ice and Fire, but his memory was hazy. Jaehaerys I, the current king and his father, was known as the Wise King, and Queen Alysanne was revered as the Good Queen. Beyond that, Logan only remembered the looming tragedy: the Dance of the Dragons, a civil war that would mark the beginning of House Targaryen's decline and started by children of a Viserys Targaryen.

Fortunately, there was no one named Viserys among his immediate family—a small comfort in a sea of uncertainty.

Logan's relationship with his father, King Jaehaerys, was distant. The king wore his role like a mask, exuding warmth and wisdom in public but offering little affection in private. Even to his other children, Jaehaerys was more monarch than father, but with Logan, the disconnect was sharper. The king's eyes, always calculating, seemed to weigh Logan as if trying to discern a threat.

In contrast, Logan found solace in his siblings. Aemon and Baelon, his elder brothers, treated him with genuine affection, often including him in their activities despite his young age. Alyssa, his sister, had been the first to take him to the dragonpit, an experience that left him awestruck.

Logan had seen animals of all kinds in his past life, even dinosaurs. But dragons were something else entirely. They were majestic, terrifying, and utterly magical. When he first laid eyes on the great beasts, he felt a resonance deep within his soul. The dragons, too, seemed to sense something in him, their enormous eyes watching him with curious intelligence. He could feel their emotions in a way he never had with any other creature, a connection that was both exhilarating and humbling.

Logan's relationship with The queen, his mother, Alysanne, had become complicated. She loved him, as a mother should, but his outright rejection of the Faith of the Seven had tested their bond. At a young age, Logan had declared that he did not believe in gods, citing his Valyrian heritage as justification. His refusal to learn the Seven-Pointed Star or attend lessons with septas and septons was a source of constant frustration. He often evaded his religious tutors by disappearing into the secret tunnels of the Red Keep, a legacy of his great-uncle Maegor the Cruel.

When found, it was almost always in the dragonpit, where his siblings would chastise him for worrying their mother.

By the age of six, Logan had already earned a reputation for his feral nature. He cemented this reputation when he thrashed a ten-year-old boy from House Bracken for mocking his sister Daella. Logan had always harbored a soft spot for Daella, who treated him like her own child. The bond they shared was one of unconditional love, a rarity in the political labyrinth of the royal family.

His other sisters, however, were more complex. Vissera barely acknowledged him, while Saera took pleasure in teasing him. One day, after Saera made an offhand comment about their father's supposed disdain for Logan, he responded with startling maturity.

"I don't care whether the king loves me or not," Logan said, his voice calm and measured. "There's only so much love a person's heart can hold, and I don't blame him for having his favorites. I've made my own family, and I have my own favorites, too."

Queen Alysanne, who overheard the conversation, was taken aback. "Prince Gaemon, you must never speak of your father, the king, like that, and Saerra, don't tease your younger brother." she scolded.

"Mother, I only said the truth. I know I am the eleventh child, and there is only so much love in one's heart. I don't blame anyone. I have made my own family, and even I have my favorites in my family, just like you and the King. Everyone has favorites—it is only natural," Logan replied calmly, displaying a wisdom no ordinary six-year-old could ever have.

"The dragons are not your family, Gaemon. They may unnaturally like you for some reason, even though they are bonded with others. Still, they are ours first and foremost. So, you have favorites in our family? Who is it?" Alysanne inquired, her tone laced with curiosity. If it was Rhaenys, she knew it might complicate things later, as Viserys would be the better match for her hand in the position of King Consort.

Logan, knowing his mother was fishing for a girl's name for her matchmaking schemes, answered, "Daella and Alyssa are my favorites. Alyssa was the first one to introduce me to the dragons, after all. The dragons like me because I understand them and their complaints about being chained like dogs. I have already told you to unchain everyone and let them be free—or just send them all to Dragonstone."

Alysanne sighed, remembering the first argument between her four-year-old son and the King. She hadn't expected Gaemon to be so furious after returning from his first flight, nor his escape to meet Balerion. To this day, she thanked the Seven Gods that the monstrous creature hadn't harmed Gaemon when he intruded into its lair.

"What? You little bastard! That stupid Daella is your favorite when I'm here?" Saerra exclaimed.

Alysanne saw Gaemon's eyes narrow as he replied, "Yes, Daella is my favorite because she does not question my every move or fear me. It is quite fortunate that you have been blessed by the Gods with a beautiful face. Though not quite up to Vissera's level, you become uglier than a duckling whenever you open your mouth."

Alysanne couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped her, further enraging Saerra.

"Why, you little animal!" Saerra yelled, charging at Gaemon to tackle him down and strike him.

Saerra started hitting Gaemon all over his body, while he quickly raised his hands to defend himself.

Alysanne sighed in exasperation and called for the septa to pull Saerra away from Gaemon, who was laughing mockingly at the weak blows.

"Sister, if you hit like this, even a baby could defeat you. Come tomorrow morning, and I will teach you how to brawl and even take down knights," Gaemon said.

Alysanne raised her eyebrows in surprise at the offer. No noble-born son would typically encourage their women to fight.

From that day, Jaehaerys ordered Logan to be trained daily for hours, with the aim of instilling discipline. Surprisingly, Logan thrived under the rigorous regimen, improving rapidly. Logan also started spending time with the servants in the kitchen, attempting to make something he called "pizza," along with sandwiches and doughnuts. The servants were both in awe and fear, as Logan began consuming enough food to feed an adult by the age of seven.

80 AC

Balerion's lair.

Logan could feel the amusement radiating from Balerion as he yelled in rage, slashing at the cavern walls with his bone claws. The bone claws had appeared last year, surprising him. He had never tested his healing abilities, but he was confident, as promised by the being who sent him here, that they would amount to half of his full ability now and grow into their complete potential when he became an adult.

His latest outburst of rage stemmed from the foolish decision of the king, the queen, and his favorite elder sister, Daella, to marry her off to an Arryn. He had tried to postpone or stop the marriage but was thwarted by the so-called adults. He had even considered orchestrating an accident for the Arryn, but seeing the genuine excitement and wonder on Daella's face stayed his hand. Daella was eagerly looking forward to the marriage and the prospect of motherhood. Rodrik Arryn, being the kindest man among her suitors, had also played a part in helping her make the decision and anticipate her future with enthusiasm.

Logan was startled out of his rage by a growl from Balerion, which he could interpret as a snort of laughter.

"Don't mock and enjoy my frustration, Balerion," Logan snarled at the Black Dread.

Balerion's eyes glinted as a low growl echoed through the cavern.

"What? Are you saying my young body is affecting my older soul and wisdom?" Logan asked, surprised. Thinking back, he could see how his behavior had changed. Even with his memories and the experience of his old age, he couldn't stop himself from acting like a bratty child.

Logan sighed in defeat and sat on the ground, leaning his back against the wall.

"You're right, Balerion. My young body has affected my thought process so much. I know my older soul and experienced mind were what attracted you to me. Let's bond now, and I'll free your chains right away."

Balerion snarled in warning.

"What? I don't think whatever sickness or magical curse you caught in Valyria will affect me. I could always cut out the sickness and parasites inside you right now," Logan replied, flexing his six bone claws for emphasis.

Balerion snorted with clear laughter, and an image of rippled steel slammed into Logan's mind—a steel he recognized from Dark Sister and Blackfyre.

A steel he has seen on Dark Sister and Blackfyre.

"So, you're saying only Valyrian steel has a chance of cutting even your injured scales and extracting the sickness and parasites?" Logan inquired.

Balerion growled in agreement.

"So, waiting for the correct time is the only choice we have," Logan said, his voice tinged with sadness and acceptance.

Author's Note: So finally I could get on to this after months. Writing from a child perspective is hard and when he is reincarnated old man, it is more difficult. Thus time skips is the best method that I could use. so this will be not be in chronological order. there will be flashbacks to childhood when necessary.

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Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF and Marvel characters and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM and Marvel. I claim no ownership to it.

Chapter 4: Conflicts

Kingslanding

80 AC

The Queen

Alysanne Targaryen didn't know what to do with her eleventh son, Gaemon Targaryen. She had always loved him more than her other children, especially after learning she had almost lost him to the Stranger. Yet, from the time he was a baby, he had been different from all her other children. He was even different from her grandchildren, Rhaenys and Viserys.

Every other moon, there was an argument between the king and Gaemon regarding the dragons and Gaemon's wild nature. Even with guards, Gaemon managed to traverse the hidden paths and shadows of the castle like no one else could. The arguments about the dragons were changing them. Gaemon had repeatedly claimed that no dragon liked being chained and that they would behave if freed, but the king had taken no action.

She sighed in worry as she watched, alongside her husband, as Gaemon trained with the Kingsguard. It was his latest punishment from the king—training from dawn to dusk for a week. Even though her heart clenched at the reason for this punishment, she understood. Gaemon had gone completely feral upon hearing of the betrothal of his favorite sister, Daella, to Rodrik Arryn. How a child of seven could understand marriage and the age of reproduction was another matter entirely. Girls tended to marry young, and seventeen was considered an appropriate age. Yet, Gaemon had stormed into his father's solar, barging in while the Hand, Septon Barth, her son Aemon, and she herself were present. She still remembered the look of pure rage on Gaemon's face.

"Gaemon, what is the meaning of this?" Jaehaerys snapped.

Gaemon ignored the question, turning to the Septon. "This is a matter for our family. Send him away."

Aemon laughed and teased, "Ah, brother, I thought we were just nuisances to you, and the dragons were your real family."

Alysanne chuckled at the comment, but the king remained stony-faced.

"Gaemon," Jaehaerys said coldly, "you will not presume to order your father and king. Moreover, Septon Barth is a valuable friend and advisor. He will stay."

"So be it. Don't say I didn't warn you later, Father. Anyway, I want you to stop Daella's marriage to an old man. Arryn is already forty, with four children to inherit the Vale. We gain nothing from this match, and Daella is too young to marry," Gaemon said firmly.

Alysanne saw the flicker of rage in Jaehaerys' eyes but was surprised when he didn't explode.

"For a prince who seems so disinterested in the teachings of nobles, you are surprisingly aware of the rulers of the Vale," the king replied. "But I have no choice in this matter, Gaemon. Your mother made a list, including a Lannister and a Baratheon, and it was your sister who chose the old man. I will not break that choice unless your elder brothers are willing to marry her. And you—" Jaehaerys paused, his voice softening only slightly, "—you are so young that I will not allow her to wait for you."

Gaemon flinched, and Alysanne noticed the brief frown on his face when the subject of marrying sisters was brought up.

"Then make the marriage happen in two years," Gaemon argued. "She should be at least eighteen before marrying. She's sickly and not fully grown."

Septon Barth snorted. "My prince, I am sure your mother knows more than you about the growth of females, and Princess Daella is mature enough to bear a child."

The sound that escaped Gaemon's throat could only be described as a growl, and Alysanne was taken aback by it.

"I wasn't talking to you, Septon," Gaemon said, his voice sharp. "And I have nothing to hear from a man who has vowed to serve the gods yet meddles in the affairs of men and plays the game of thrones like you. I was speaking to my father and mother—the heads of House Targaryen—not their lickspittle."

Alysanne glanced at Septon Barth and was shocked to see a flicker of fear cross his face.

"Enough, Gaemon," the king snapped. "You are speaking to the Hand of the King, who speaks with my authority. He is more than that—he is a dear friend. You will not disrespect him in front of me. His opinion is more valued than that of a seven-year-old prince."

Alysanne braced herself, expecting Gaemon to be devastated by his father's words. Instead, the boy seemed indifferent, scoffing in derision.

"And pray tell, Father," Gaemon replied, "what does a man sworn off women and devoted to the gods know of women and childbirth? And what does he care for my sister when the Faith disparages her because of her inability to read their damned scriptures? You married Aemon to Jocelyn, your own half-sister, ensuring that no other house could use her as a bargaining chip. You married Baelon to Alyssa to secure her dragon for our house. You've used my siblings, Maegelle and Vaegon, to infiltrate the Faith and the Citadel, the soft powers of the Seven Kingdom."

Septon Barth's eyes widened, and he hissed in shock, but Gaemon continued.

"So, enlighten me. What use does marrying Daella to an Arryn serve? There will be no inheritance of the Vale; there are too many heirs. In fact, it seems to me that you're simply trying to rid yourself of the burden of a supposedly weak, simple girl while increasing the Vale's loyalty."

Alysanne observed Jaehaerys, surprised and deep in thought.

"Gaemon, I am certain our sister is not marrying Arryn because she is an embarrassment to the royal family. As for Maegelle and Vaegon, they joined of their own will, not because our father pressured them. You are out of line suggesting otherwise. I assure you, I married Jocelyn because I loved her, not because my father commanded it," Aemon said, attempting to calm his enraged younger brother.

"Aye, what a coincidence that Jocelyn, as a ward of the Crown, just happened to sit next to you after our mother realized Alyssa and Baelon were far too close for comfort," Gaemon replied coolly.

"Enough, Gaemon," The King snapped. "Your intelligence and observational skills surpass even adults, but here they are misused to imagine plots where none exist. Your sister is marrying one of the Lord Paramounts—a house that has been loyal to us since the beginning. There are only two others equal to Arryn, and yet this is her choice. There will be no change."

Alysanne, knowing her brother's mind was set, remained silent. She saw Gaemon tense further before sighing in defeat and lowering his gaze.

Before anyone could comment, Gaemon looked up again. His eyes—despite their Targaryen coloring—were not those of a seven-year-old boy. They seemed far older, reflecting a knowledge of bloodshed and war.

"I see there is no changing your mind, my king. It doesn't matter; I'm leaving now before I say something unforgivable."

"Oh? And where are you going, Prince Gaemon? I hope it is to reflect on your wild outburst and the disrespect you've shown me, your father, and the royal family," Septon Barth interjected smugly.

Gaemon, who had turned to leave, paused. His shoulders tensed before relaxing completely. Slowly, he turned his head, then his body, to fully face the Septon.

"I'm glad you asked, Septon. I'm going to the nearest sept to pray to the Stranger. Arryn is an old man, after all—perhaps his heart will give out after fucking a young beauty like my sister on their wedding night. That would be quite fortuitous for her, wouldn't it? She'd be free of the burden of childbirth and could remain as a widow."

Eventhough it was said so casually, even Alysanne didn't miss the threat in the voice and the absolute surety in it.

And…

This was the second day, and Alysanne noticed the Kingsguard assigned to train with Gaemon was nearing exhaustion, while the boy looked as fresh as ever.

"Husband, why are you punishing him more than any of our other children? He's only doing what we've all done before, and his words—however sharp—are beyond the capability of a normal seven-year-old to accomplish."

The king scoffed. "We never fought so stubbornly when our parents rejected something the first time. Gaemon outright refuses anything he doesn't like. This is not a trait to nurture in someone of the royal family. He even defies me on matters of dragons, and you have faced the same. Hasn't he vehemently denied learning about the Seven, claiming belief in fourteen gods at first and rejecting them altogether later? If this isn't curbed now, what happens if Aemon denies him something crucial in the future? It could lead to treason or rebellion. I won't allow it."

Alysanne grimaced, recalling the bitter two-year struggle before she finally gave up. At least she had Maegelle, devout and obedient.

"I know you were pleased when I finally succeeded with Aemon," she said dryly. "He's been trained well enough to avoid problems with the Faith after our time."

"Well, if something does happen, it will be far different from the first rebellion during our father's time."

Alysanne didn't reply, knowing the king's true feelings about the Faith.

"He is exceptional," the king admitted as they watched their seven-year-old son outsmart even the seasoned Kingsguard training him.

"What if we assign him to the Kingsguard?" Jaehaerys asked suddenly.

Alysanne laughed mockingly but stopped when she saw he was serious. "No, brother. I lost my third son to the Citadel; I won't lose this one too. Do you truly see Gaemon standing still for hours, bound by duty?"

Jaehaerys grimaced, knowing Gaemon's restless spirit would never suit the Kingsguard.

"You know he is more knowledgeable than he lets on," Alysanne informed the king.

It was a relief for Alysanne that Gaemon was not another Daella. When he neither talked nor cried as the days passed, everyone assumed he was a fool—until they caught him speaking to the kitchen staff about an imaginary dish. When they tried his recipe, it turned out to be exceptionally good.

The king looked intrigued. "What do you mean? He has already proven himself more intelligent than even Vaegon by learning languages, reading complex texts, and grasping their concepts quickly."

Alysanne nodded. "Two years ago, during a visit to the orphanages, Gaemon made several suggestions for improving the health and safety of the children. His ideas were groundbreaking. For example, he proposed that multiple mothers should nurse multiple infants to strengthen the babies' immunity against common illnesses. He also recommended that children bathe at least every other day and drink only boiled water filtered through a contraption he built using mud layers. The reports I received yesterday show that these measures have drastically reduced sickness and disease in the orphanages. And there's more—many of his suggestions have been just as effective."

For a moment, the king wore a proud smile, but he quickly masked it with a regal façade.

"That is very interesting," he said. "What other methods has he proposed that might benefit me and the kingdom?"

Alysanne hesitated, knowing her next words would anger him. "I tried to persuade him to share his ideas for the betterment of the Iron Throne, but he saw through my ploy. He said he would not help you in any way until the matter of the dragons is resolved."

The king snarled briefly but managed to contain his temper.

"So he wants to bargain with his ideas, which may ultimately be worthless, against me, his king and father. Perhaps I should send him to the Faith as punishment," the king said calmly, though there was an edge to his voice.

"Enough, brother," Alysanne snapped. "What is it with you and our son? He's right about the dragons, and you know it. Why not unchain them and be done with it? No one will complain after all these years."

The king looked hesitant, but a moment later, he appeared resolute.

"Sister, do you know why I worry about him?" His voice softened, taking on a rare vulnerability. "I was the one who pulled him from the ashes of that dragon egg on that fateful day. When I looked into his black eyes, I saw something I had seen only once before—the same look Maegor the Cruel had when he returned from the dark ritual performed by his pet sorceress till his death. But in Gaemon's eyes, I also saw wildness and understanding no infant should possess. Now, as he shows exceptional intelligence and knowledge beyond his years, I cannot help but fear he may follow in our cursed uncle's footsteps—into madness and cruelty."

Alysanne was stunned into silence, her heart beating furiously as protective anger swelled within her.

"How dare you, brother," she said, her voice shaking with fury. "He is nothing like our thrice-cursed uncle! You only need to see the kindness Gaemon shows to those beneath him, especially the children at the orphanage, to understand that. Maegor never showed love to anyone but his mother. Gaemon already loves us—and his ardent defense of Daella is proof of that."

The king grimaced, recalling the injuries suffered by the Bracken boy, but Alysanne pressed on.

"You focus only on the boy's injuries and disregard why Gaemon acted as he did. Your bias in comparing him to Maegor blinds you."

The king appeared thoughtful for a moment and gave a noncommittal shrug. "Perhaps. But even his words the other day showed his ruthlessness. You all thought his comment about Arryn dying in my daughter's bed was just a jest to mock the Septon, but I saw him. I understood. He meant it as plain, honest truth—and he believed he could make it happen. Only Daella's affection for this match may stay his hand."

Alysanne frowned but replied, "You must be jesting, brother. How could a seven-year-old possibly accomplish what you imply?"

"That," Jaehaerys said with a shrug, "is the real question."

Seeing no point in continuing the argument, Alysanne changed the subject.

"You never answered my question, Jaehaerys. The dragons. Why?"

The king's expression darkened. "Why, you ask? There are many reasons for chaining them, and placating the smallfolk or the lords of the realm is not one of them. Do you know how many Targaryen bastards reside on Dragonstone? How many descendants of Valyria are scattered across Essos? What if one of them claims Balerion—or any other dragon, for that matter?"

Alysanne gasped at the implications.

"I hate it every time Vermithor is chained," the king snarled, his anger flaring. "But we must maintain this façade for now. The world has forgotten dragonlore, and to ensure we are not usurped, I must keep Balerion under our control. I will not gamble with the fate of my children and risk them suffering as my niece Aerea did. Chaining the dragons has also given us an aura of strength. The smallfolk and lords alike see us as gods because we command and chain what they consider divine."

Alysanne considered his words, piecing together the implications.

"I understand, my husband," she said softly. Then her tone hardened. "But Balerion is fond of Gaemon, and Gaemon of him. He is willful enough to command the Black Dread, and I am certain nothing like Aerea's tragedy will happen to him. It would be better to let Gaemon claim Balerion and free him from his chains."

The king tried to mask his fear but failed under Alysanne's gaze.

"How dare you, Jaehaerys," Alysanne snapped. "Do you truly believe Gaemon would follow Maegor's path if he claimed Balerion?"

The king didn't deny it. "I simply don't want to tempt someone so young with absolute power."

"Absolute power?" Alysanne scoffed. "I saw Balerion last month. He grows weaker by the day from his injuries and sickness. We have Vhagar, Vermithor, Caraxes, Silverwing, and Meleys with riders. And yet, you still fear the Black Dread's shadow? Where is the brother who claimed the throne while Maegor still rode Balerion?"

Jaehaerys flinched at the question, surprising her.

"And Dreamfyre," Alysanne continued, "will fight Balerion at the first chance. Our sister's hatred for the Black Dread has seeped into that dragon."

"You don't understand," the king said gravely. "If such a fight happens, Balerion will be killed, but how many of our dragons—and children—will he take with him? It's better that no one claims him for now. Ensure Gaemon understands that."

Alysanne scoffed. "This is folly, brother, and you know it."

"Then I shall be a fool who at least tried to prevent a catastrophe," the king replied harshly.

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Chapter 5: The Beginning

82 AC

The King's Solar

Baelon Targaryen

Baelon, along with his elder brother, was summoned by their father, the king.

"Your Grace," both of them bowed as they entered the solar, and the king waved away their courtesy. Baelon noticed a raven scroll lying on the table and the king looked devastated. He knew the king kept his emotions close to his heart, but even so, he could deduce that the news must have been saddening.

"My sons, this is the latest letter from the Vale. Daella is gone," the king whispered, and Baelon was struck by the sadness in their father's voice. Maybe old age was finally softening the cold heart of the king.

"No," Aemon whispered in anguish, as they had all loved their sweet sister. Baelon, who had been happy with Daemon's birth recently, immediately lost his joy.

"Father, who should go, and what about Gaemon?" Aemon asked hesitantly.

"I don't know, Aemon. How Gaemon will react... He warned me of this, and I ignored it. He even threatened Arryn's life right here in this solar, but somehow nothing happened," the king said, looking at them with a heavy gaze.

"Baelon," the king continued after a moment of thought, "you are close with Gaemon, and you should inform him. He should be in the training yard now."

"I will do so, Father, but I am not closer to Gaemon than you or Aemon. It's just that he is close to Alyssa, and thus he appears closer to me. That's it, nothing more. Should I bring milk of the poppy or a sleeping potion to placate his anger?" Baelon asked.

"No need for that, Baelon," the king replied.

Baelon nodded, standing up.

"Your Grace," he bowed and left the solar.

Baelon observed the training yard as Gaemon sparred with a Kingsguard. Even though Gaemon was only ten, he already looked like a thirteen-year-old with his height and the beginning of muscles that promised greatness. No one else dared to spar with Gaemon except for Baelon, Aemon, and the Kingsguard soldiers.

He wanted to wait until the end of the spar, but he knew Gaemon would not tire, so he stepped into the yard and called out when there was a lull in the combat.

"Gaemon."

Gaemon immediately stepped two paces backward to disengage, and both the Kingsguard and Gaemon nodded to each other, signaling the end of the spar.

"Baelon," Gaemon said calmly. Baelon was impressed by how there was no visible strain in Gaemon's voice despite the hard spar.

Baelon. Gaemon said calmly. Baelon was impressed that there was no visible strain of having a hard spar in Gaemon's voice.

"Brother, come with me. I have to tell you something," Baelon said, turning to walk and leading his brother toward the Godswood.

Both the servants and some important lords whispered as they passed through the corridors, but Baelon noticed that his brother seemed entirely nonchalant about the whispers. Many thought he was escorting his wild younger brother to punish him or something.

They reached the Godswood, and Baelon turned to look at Gaemon, hesitating.

After several minutes, Baelon was interrupted by Gaemon's angry growl.

"Brother, what is it? Just spit it out already."

"Gaemon, there was a raven from the Vale, and I am heartbroken to inform you that Daella has succumbed to childbirth fever. They named the girl Aemma Arryn, who is little, but the healers and maesters assure that she will at least survive," Baelon said, carefully observing his younger brother.

Gaemon's muscles tensed, and his face went eerily blank.

"Fuck you, Arryn, and fuck the king!" Gaemon yelled, moving toward the nearest tree, the weirwood, and began punching it in anger.

Baelon panicked as he saw the power behind the punches that made the tree shake. On the third punch, any form was gone, replaced by savage battering with both hands. On the seventh punch, Baelon could see blood appearing on the weirwood, as Gaemon's hands were cut open by the broken wood.

On the eleventh punch, Baelon moved behind Gaemon, catching both hands to stop him. Baelon was surprised that he had to use almost all his strength to keep Gaemon from continuing.

"Enough, Gaemon. This is more than just a tree, and if you destroy it, our relationship with the First Men houses will be affected. Look at the tree—it's drinking in your blood and healing itself," Baelon said.

Gaemon shook Baelon off and sat down in exhaustion. He looked up, and Baelon saw that there were no tears in his eyes. They were bloodshot from anger, and the violet eyes had turned nearly black in rage.

"Leave, Baelon. I want to be alone," Gaemon said.

"Brother, she was my sister too. Father has requested that we go and keep company with Mother, who stays in the Vale. Whatever she says, and however you devalue it, our mother has a favorite son, and it has been you, just as she favors Gael among her daughters. Prepare yourself. We will go by Vhagar," Baelon said, turning to walk away. He knew his brother didn't need to be handheld for preparing for the journey.

"No," Gaemon said.

Baelon immediately stopped, surprised beyond words. He turned and saw Gaemon lying against the weirwood with closed eyes.

"Valonquar, I heard a 'no'? Was I imagining it? Don't you want to see Daella for the last time?" Baelon asked, intrigued by his younger brother's thought process.

"You didn't imagine it. I said no. I'm not coming. If I went there, I would gut the old Arryn where he stands, and I would follow through, killing everyone who defends him. I don't care whether we are under guest rights or some inane rule about him being our vassal. I should have followed through on my threat to kill Arryn on our wedding day. Only Daella's pure happiness stopped me then, and I regret it now."

Baelon gaped at his younger brother, hearing only the truth from him.

"I will inform Father that you declined coming to the Vale," Baelon said and walked away.

"Oh, you're going to Father? Pass him my congratulations on successfully killing his supposed lesser child among us, all the while extracting the most benefit out of us," Gaemon snarled.

Baelon paused, unsure whether to reply, but in the end, he decided against arguing with Gaemon and walked away. Baelon reached the inner corridor and was out of the sun. he looked back to see what Gaemon is doing and was surprised to see an empty spot.

Baelon hoped that his father wouldn't order him to find Gaemon as he didn't want to go all the way to the Balerion's lair in the Dragonpit

83 AC

Rhaenys Targaryen  

Rhaenys Targaryen frowned as she remembered the offer her uncle Gaemon had given her. Even though she knew Gaemon was only one year older than her, he seemed perfect in everything he set his mind to. Rhaenys knew that people whispered that Gaemon was perfect in every way, especially compared to her and Viserys. Both of them had tried to match at least  when it came to talent and skill with Gaemon, but it was impossible. Even the servants of the Red Keep adored Gaemon because of his kind nature toward them, even working in the kitchens to make the weirdly tasty food he had invented.

Rhaenys knew that, even when she tried to follow Gaemon, as he was a child the same age as her, he always seemed to dodge her. Maybe it was because of her open jealousy—jealousy of his freedom, the way he could do whatever he wanted. But deep down, she knew the real reason for her jealousy was Gaemon's effortless access to dragons. Or rather, how much the dragons loved him. Rhaenys had flown on Silverwing, Vhagar, and Caraxes, but they never indulged her the way they did with Gaemon. She still heard that many dragonkeepers had begun calling him the "Dragonwhisperer."

She didn't know whether Gaemon loved her and Viserys the way he loved his specific siblings, but she knew Gaemon cared for them. It was because of this that she believed the words Gaemon had spoken to her last day.

The previous day.

"Rhaenys, niece. I am glad you came as I asked in the note," Gaemon said as she entered the godswood.

Rhaenys frowned as Gaemon didn't even use her honorific of princess and didn't even open his eyes as he sat back on the thick white bark of the weirwood. She wondered how he knew it was her who had entered. She looked at the red leaves of the weirwood and felt out of place, just like she felt in a sept. She had tried to escape the septas, just like Gaemon, but she was not at all successful. She observed Gaemon and saw that he was relaxed more than ever except for when he was in the company of the dragons.

"Prince Gaemon, what do you want?" Rhaenys asked, not wanting to waste time. Ever since she heard that her father was going to war when the Dornish attacked with ships, she had been spending all her time with the crown prince, learning everything from him. It was a nightmare of hers that her father leave in Caraxes and only Caraxes return, mourning. She had tried to stop her father from leaving, but she was dismissed.

"I heard that you were worried about Aemon going with the king and my other brother Baelon two weeks from now to burn the Dornish armada and end the war before it begins. By the way, very foolish of them to attack in wooden ships when we have fire-breathing dragons."

Rhaenys frowned again at the disrespect toward her father, the crown prince. She could ignore Gaemon not using her honorific, as Gaemon was her uncle and older by one year and position, but still, Aemon was his senior in every way. Rhaenys knew that no girl just nine name-days like her worried about things like this, but she knew it was Gaemon's maturity and wild nature that made her grow up faster than her father and mother anticipated. She started lessons at age five, and even if she paled before Gaemon's speed, everyone was impressed by her progress at the hardwork she put to catch up with Gaemon.

"Uncle, it is Prince Aemon, and you are casually using my father's name when he is senior to you in every way, even before servants and other lords. You are not even calling him 'brother' like Uncle Baelon or other siblings, just Aemon. It is sending an image to our vassals." Rhaenys tried to enforce this to her uncle.

Gaemon looked at her in surprise, then snorted and waved his hand.

"What is the need for titles between family?" Gaemon ended with a shrug.

"Anyway, I am not here to have that conversation with you, niece. I have a solution for you to end your worries about your father going to war," Gaemon said.

Rhaenys looked hopeful. "What? You can convince him to stay back? Only grandfather and Uncle Baelon will go?"

Gaemon shook his head. "Of course not. Just like you said about the titles, the crown prince not going to defend the land from the Dornish invasion will send a message to the vassals, even the slaver scum on the other side of the Narrow Sea."

Rhaenys sighed in tiredness, as she expected another rant about the cruelty of slavery and her uncle's hatred for that institution, even above every Westerosi's disdain for that system.

"So, what is your solution, Uncle? Have you finally decided to produce a miracle for our house's benefit instead of random orphans or catering to your selfish whims?" Rhaenys snapped back.

Gaemon grinned at that, and Rhaenys could see her uncle liked it very much.

"Of course not, Rhaenys. Why would I do anything for this house when my father doesn't want to do a simple task I asked of him when I was little? A thing he wanted to do himself, but couldn't do because of foolishness and paranoia."

Rhanys nodded. "I see. I tire of this. Inform me now, or I shall leave."

Gaemon studied her intently, scrutinizing her every move. After a moment, Rhanys saw him nodding to himself, as though coming to a decision.

"I have a way to ensure that all three of our family will return to us after we burn the Dornish armada," Gaemon said. "Caraxes and Vermithor haven't seen war, but the damned dragonpit has my Balerion. He wants to end the Dornish as much as anyone else, especially since the death of his companion, Meraxes. He'll burn the Narrow Sea for that, even without a rider. The pit also holds an unclaimed Dreamfyre, an experienced dragon. Aunt Rhaena spent more time on her back than on land, and Dreamfyre is no stranger to battle.

"On the second day they leave, you only have to cause a distraction. Play a prank, as I've planned, and hide in the tunnels I'll show you. My mother and sister Alyssa will be preoccupied looking for you while I free Balerion and Dreamfyre. Dreamfyre will fly to the Red Keep, and you'll only need to be there to claim her."

Rhanys gaped at the plan, and she might have laughed had anyone else suggested that a dragon would follow instructions without a bond. But she knew her uncle had a way with animals—dragons included. Her father had once said that their grandfather had banned any Targaryen women from claiming dragons without his permission, and this was her chance to defy that.

She paused, wondering why Gaemon hadn't claimed Balerion himself. It wasn't as if anything could stop the dragon from flying off.

Gaemon must have sensed her hesitation, for he spoke again.

"Rhaenys, I know you're more mature than most at your age when it comes to the matters of court and rulings. Perhaps I played a part in stealing your childhood with my own achievements. Let this be my recompense. I know Aemon won't have another child, and you should be the future queen. But Westeros, especially the Andal lords, are backwards when it comes to a woman ruling them. Imagine how they'll have to keep silent if the future Crown Princess claims a dragon at ten and goes to defend her people."

Rhaenys smiled at that. Gaemon was right. Finally, she made her decision.

"I agree, Gaemon. What is the plan?"

Gaemon grinned, and for a moment, Rhaenys couldn't help but wonder what Gaemon was truly after. It wasn't about claiming Balerion—she knew nothing could stop that. Even though the King had expressed disapproval to Gaemon personally, and through their grandmother and brothers, the King had never ordered the Dragonkeepers, Kingsguard, or the City Guard to stop Gaemon from entering the dragonpit.

"Well, this is what you have to do…" Gaemon began.

Authors note:

One reason for FD delay earlier : even when I have entirely planned this scene,  this was damn hard to write because I keep mixing the characters of ADS baelon, Rhaenys with FD baelon and Rhaenys and how they should behave.  It confused me as I wrote something and during editing I could see that it was ADS baelon or Rhaenys behaviour and not from FD one.  I am not entirely happy how this chapter turned out…

If it is like that for this two, then I don't know what will happen with king Jaehaerys.  Similiarly I don't want to use similar backstory or history as ADS and thus I decided to halt this for some time earlier.  since the backstory of jaehaerys is out now in ADS i can publish this here...   

Next chapter:  Gaemon claiming balerion

for discussing chapters  : My Discord 

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Feral Dragon

83 AC

Queen Alysanne Targaryen

It had been a hectic few days for Queen Alysanne. Her dear husband and elder sons had departed for war the previous day, and the burden of rule now rested squarely on her shoulders. She had been consumed with helping them prepare and even making plans for what to do if something were to happen to her kin. She knew, logically, that nothing could stand against three dragonriders over open waters—but still, her heart was not at peace.

Her anxiety was worsened by the antics of her children and grandchildren. Usually, the trouble began with Gaemon, but this time, it was her dear Rhaenys. The panic Rhaenys expressed—saying her father would ride Caraxes to war but only Caraxes would return—bordered on madness. No one could soothe the girl, not until she had a private meeting with Gaemon in the godswood. Alysanne had wanted to look into the matter herself but hadn't found the time. And she knew that no one else would be able to get an answer out of Gaemon.

It was early morning now, and Alysanne felt the urge to yell at Gaemon for missing the send-off of the King. She knew he had offered quiet well-wishes to his elder brothers, but the absence of a public show of support had not gone unnoticed by the court and the nobles. The only small comfort was that Gaemon had not disappeared into the streets or flown off to the Dragonpit alone. The entire royal family was under strict watch—Dorne could send assassins, or worse, kidnappers to stay the King's hand.

After her ladies-in-waiting finished preparing her, Alysanne's first order of business was to visit her sweet Gael. The little girl was only three, but she was Alysanne's greatest source of strength.

Small Council Meeting.

"My Queen," Ser Ryam said as he entered the chamber and bowed.

The Queen gave him a nod while the other council members, save for Septon Barth, shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Prince Gaemon is nowhere to be found, Your Grace," Ser Ryam reported. "He is usually in the practice yard as punishment, but he's not there today. I've searched the godswood and the kitchens. I've also sent men to the Dragonpit to check if he's there."

The others frowned but kept silent—none dared speak ill of the Prince in the Queen's presence, save Septon Barth, a long time friend and confidant of the Monarchs.

"Ser Ryam, this is unacceptable," the Septon spoke up. "His Grace specifically ordered Gaemon to attend these meetings and support the Queen as the eldest male Prince remaining in the capital."

Ser Ryam remained quiet, glancing toward the Queen. Though she retained her regal bearing, the exhaustion on her face was unmistakable.

"Ser Ryam, the Lord Hand is correct," the Queen said firmly. "Send out the order. Every man is to be notified. Prince Gaemon is to be found and brought before me immediately. I would very much like to know what he deems more important than supporting his family in such trying times. Make sure that the King's order is not known among the men."

Ser Ryam bowed in acknowledgment and turned toward the door—only for it to slam open a moment later.

"Who dares—" Septon Barth began, indignant, but he immediately swallowed his words upon seeing Princess Alyssa enter.

"Daughter, what is this?" the Queen asked, frowning with restrained anger at the disruption and disrespect.

"Mother, this is awful news. Both Rhaenys and my own son Viserys haf gone too far—" Alyssa began to explain, but her words were drowned out by an ear-splitting roar.

The Black Dread.

Everyone in the room froze, their panic rising, but it was Alyssa's next words that truly seized the council's attention.

"My son and niece are missing."

In an instant, all concern about Gaemon vanished. The Small Council sprang into action, ordering the search for the young royals to begin at once.

It took time, but eventually the young princess and prince were found. Alyssa scolded them sharply, while Queen Alysanne watched with a stern, disappointed expression. She held her silence, mindful of maintaining royal dignity and not losing her temper in front of the children.

They were near the entrance to Maegor's Holdfast, where the children had been caught, when Ser Ryam came running toward them, another man-at-arms in tow, breathless from exertion.

"Your Grace," Ser Ryam said hurriedly, "I have news of Prince Gaemon. He's in the Dragonpit—doing something."

Both the Queen and Alyssa exchanged surprised glances. The Queen turned her attention to the man-at-arms, whose pale, shaken face betrayed fear and disbelief.

With a gentle smile, Alysanne asked, "Good ser, you've come with tidings. What is it?"

The knight bowed and spoke hesitantly, pausing to catch his breath. "Your Grace, Prince Gaemon… he's lost his wits. He's attacking Balerion—the Black Dread—with the King's sword, Blackfyre, in the middle of the coliseum. We had to force our way in to witness it, as the dragonkeepers had been ordered to block all entry."

Alyssa gasped, her mouth falling open in shock. Even Queen Alysanne stood speechless, panic rising in her chest like a tide.

'What in the Seven Hells is Gaemon doing?' she thought, horrified. 'Does he want to reduce King's Landing to ash?'

Without another word, Alysanne turned to give her orders.

"Prepare a carriage—immediately. Alyssa and I will go to the Dragonpit at once."

She wanted to ride a horse herself, but her riding days were long behind her. And she knew instinctively that sending Alyssa alone would not be enough.

Gaemon Logan Targaryen had prepared well for this day.  He had already mapped out a plan to sneak Blackfyre from the king's solar and use the distraction caused by his young niece to escape to the Dragonpit. Everything had gone according to plan, and he reached the Dragonpit in record time.

He went inside and the normally friendly dragonkeepers tensed seeing the Kings blade in his hand.

"My prince?" the leader asked in High Valyrian.

"Out of the pit. Now," Gaemon commanded, and the authority in his voice, forged through years of leadership, made the younger dragonkeepers obey immediately.

"My prince? What are you doing?" one of the elders asked nervously.

"The enslavement of dragons ends today. And today, the sickness plaguing Balerion will be destroyed," Gaemon declared as he ran into the caves.

His first target was Balerion himself—and the chains the Black Dread had allowed to be placed upon him.

Gaemon looked up at the black dragon who had shared such kinship with him in this life. A brief study of his House's history had been enough to make him understand why. They were both old souls, beings who had watched centuries pass while loved ones died around them. He knew that before his own birth, Balerion had merely been waiting for death. Only the connection they now shared gave the dragon a reason to try again—just as Logan had, when the mysterious entity gave him a second chance at life.

Balerion's eyes glinted with excitement—and a trace of dread—for the pain he knew was coming. As Gaemon approached, the mighty dragon shifted slightly, allowing his rider better access. With casual, practiced slashes, Gaemon broke the chains. The strength in his youthful body had always amazed Balerion, but in that moment, it didn't matter. He could finally taste freedom—not from the chains, for he could have broken those any time—but from the sickness inside him.

Balerion moved swiftly into the center of the Dragonpit, and Gaemon followed. He looked around and saw the massive arena, large enough to hold 80,000 people who once came to witness marriages, royal announcement and even crownings.

"Maegor built a colosseum in just four or five years. The engineering in this world is insane," Gaemon thought.

Silverwing and Dreamfyre arrived next, and Balerion hissed a simple command: burn the infection when Gaemon gave the signal.

Gaemon glanced at the younger dragons. He could feel Silverwing's terror and Dreamfyre's wild joy.

Dreamfyre, eager to inflict pain on the Black Dread, even stepped forward to start the burning early. Only a sharp warning hiss from Balerion stopped her.

"Well, well. At least Dreamfyre is happy to hurt you," Gaemon said in Valyrian. "Rhaena must have truly hated you for Dreamfyre to still carry such deep resentment."

Balerion simply snorted in response.

"No hesitation now. Let me reach the infection," Gaemon muttered, climbing up Balerion's wing, which was positioned in the ground like a gigantic slide. The dragon had lowered it to give him easier access to the injuries above the wing joint and beneath the spine.

Gaemon winced as his enhanced senses picked up the stench of rot. The wound was massive—nearly the length of his own body and wide enough for two men to walk side by side. He stood on Balerion's wings, observing the damage.

Gameon increased his grip on Blackfyre and swung diagonally using all his strength, which was considerable, as fast he could for several minutes.  Within minutes a huge  X shape was carved in the black rotted scales. black pus smelling of rotting eggs and sulfur began to ooze out.

Balerion just grunted in annoyance.

Gaemon nodded grimly at the suggestion. "Alright then, I will do that."

With a shout, he drove Blackfyre into the wound, burying the blade to its hilt. It took all his strength and weight. When the sword refused to come loose, he jumped and kicked off Balerion's body to wrench it free. The moment the sword was out, a geyser of black blood and pus erupted. The force threw Gaemon back several meters—luckily, or he might've been burned by the acidic discharge.

The liquid continued pouring, and as Gaemon approached the hole, he noticed movement. His enhanced vision caught the sight of wriggling forms.

Worms.

His face contorted in disgust.

"Fucking hell."

He shoved the blade halfway back into the wound and used it like a saw to carve along the X. The interior flesh was softer, and between his strength and Valyrian Steel, he made short work of it. Black fluid poured out like a river. His body and clothes were soon soaked, and he could feel the worms crawling on his skin. But he ignored the revulsion and kept going.

After five minutes, the job was done. A deep X-shaped cavity now marred Balerion's flesh.

The dragon grunted something Gaemon didn't catch—and without warning, Dreamfyre's blue fire engulfed the whole area.

"My prince!" someone from the Dragonguard shouted in horror, but no one moved to intervene.

Gaemon was startled by the fire and he leapt sideways to avoid it, but the fire was all enveloping and he could feel the blood and pus-soaked clothes becoming ashes within seconds. He could feel the black liquid that had landed on him vanishing and then the worms being turned ash before he felt the increased warmth from the fire.  By the third minute he was tanned like he was in the sun for a month. His pale white body became red like it was painted, but luckily for him there had no burns.

"Well... I'm somewhat unburnt," he said, dazed. "Nice of you to warn me, Balerion. I go out of my way to help, and you try to cook me?" Gaemon asked sarcastically.

Balerion only grunted again.

"I knew those worms were trouble. But little warning would've been nice," Gaemon muttered.

Gaemon walked forwards to the sickness and then slashed his sword randomly around the cooked flesh.  The flesh parted like butter and landed on the wings and around it increasing the hole.

Balerion grunted. Gaemon took the hint and slid down the wing, stepping aside.

Dreamfyre let out a satisfied rumble and stepped forward. Balerion had already shifted his wings. Dreamfyre wasted no time—ripping away dead flesh with claws, teeth, and fire. Four rounds of this impromptu cleansing followed. When the wound was finally cleared, a huge hole where a horse could walk forward was created.  Dreamfyre bathed the entire area in fire again.

Balerion hissed, and Dreamfyre stopped immediately.  Balerion then turned and looked at the much smaller blue dragon still standing near the massive hole in his side. Gaemon was impressed by the flexibility of his neck. The inspection lasted only seconds.

Without warning, Balerion breathed fire on his own wound—then turned the flame on to the ground and then Dreamfyre. "Balerion!" Gaemon shouted in alarm as Dreamfyre was engulfed in black flame. He feared the worst—but sighed in relief when the fire died down, revealing Dreamfyre almost unharmed, with only a few scorched scales.

Dreamfyre growled angrily, but Balerion's hiss silenced her. The message was clear: the worms had to be completely purged—even from Dreamfyre. Balerion then turned to Gaemon. In his mind, the image of a small slash wound on the dragon's underbelly appeared.

Gameon just hissed in displeasure and he was still naked. Fortunately for him, he has no shame after living for so long.  Balerion just lied on the ground and lied side ways and gameon saw the slash. It was oozing black pus and Gaemon had a bad feeling regarding it which he ignored promptly with a scoff.

He reached near the slash and did the same as earlier.  Blackfyre to the hilt in the slash and then sawing the interior flesh.  Black liquid landed on Gaemon's face and bald head which he ignored as he continued increasing the hole.   Even while he was doing that blue fire engulfed him and the hole and Gameon saw the black blood hissing as if it was acid landed on any surface.

Instincts flared, and Gaemon jumped back as a jet of black liquid poured out of the hole and landed on the sand, sizzling before vanishing in the heat of Dreamfyre's blue flames.

Balerion grunted, and Gaemon ran sideways as Dreamfyre approached the slash. This time, there was no hesitation like before. There was only pure savagery as Dreamfyre used her claws, teeth, and fire to dig at the hole, making it bigger and bigger.

Gaemon could feel Balerion's pain, but still, there was no sound of pain.

After two minutes, the hole was large enough for Dreamfyre to fit half her mouth inside, which she did—and then breathed fire directly into the flesh.

Gaemon wondered what could have made Balerion do this to himself.

As if in answer, Dreamfyre suddenly pulled back, and Gaemon saw something being dragged out between her teeth.

It was a worm—the size of an adult human—oozing black pus filled with smaller worms.

"Fire worms," Gaemon hissed.

Dreamfyre looked at the massive wound left behind, hissed at Balerion, and shook her head. Balerion grunted in displeasure and looked toward Gaemon.

"What the fuck?" Gaemon snapped. "You want me to be used as bait?"

Balerion hissed back.

"Fuck you too," Gaemon hissed, stalking toward the massive wound with Blackfyre in hand. He stopped when another hiss from Balerion made him turn away from the hole and toward the dragon's head.

"You want to bond before that?" Gaemon whispered.

Balerion growled his agreement, and an image flashed in Gaemon's mind—of Daemon's bleeding hand pressed to Balerion's mouth.

Gaemon nodded in understanding. As he approached the dragon's head, he slashed his left palm against the edge of Blackfyre and raised it. But before Balerion's tongue could reach him, the wound had already healed over. Gaemon grunted in frustration.

Balerion hissed again.

He moved his palms over Blackfyre's edge again, reopening the wound, and raised both hands, while keeping the edge buried in his palms, so it will not heal over. He nearly lost his fingers by the time Balerion's tongue reached him. Gaemon quickly lowered his right hand, still gripping the sword. As the wounds healed, Balerion's tongue enveloped his entire body, and fire washed over him once more.

In that moment, he felt a sudden sense of completeness—his mind connected, a new bond forming between them. He could feel the thread that led to Balerion and tugged on it.

"Welcome, Gaemon." Balerion's deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind.

Ah, this is good, Gaemon replied the same way.

Now go and kill the other worm, Gaemon. Otherwise, it will corrupt your magic too.

Gaemon nodded and ran toward the large hole in Balerion's side.

He was halfway there when the shrill yell of his mother and sister echoed from the entrance of the Dragonpit. But even before the scream had finished, Logan had jumped—already inside the hole.

Fortunately for Logan, the dragonfire had cauterized the edges, so there was no blood leaking. The interior was unbearably hot, and Logan knew he wouldn't be able to breathe for long. He moved quickly, deeper into the hole, toward the bubbling black pus at the far end.

He glanced back and saw the reason Dreamfyre hadn't been able to drag the second worm out—it had burrowed too deep, beyond her reach.

With a harsh yell, Logan began hacking at the flesh with Blackfyre, determined to kill the godsdamned worms.

Alysanne Targaryen almost ran into the Dragonpit—only her pride stopped her from doing so. But the moment she stepped inside and saw what was happening, she wished she had run.

Her foolish son was naked, covered in soot, and wielding Blackfyre as he sprinted across the sands. She ignored Alyssa's shouting, and even her own shout of "Gaemon!" was ignored. Within moments, her voice faltered into stunned silence.

Gaemon had leapt into a gaping hole in Balerion's underbelly.

Alysanne knew how hot dragons ran—Balerion was the hottest of them all. She knew the blood will be boiling her son if he didn't come out soon. Taking a deep breath to calm the rising terror, she looked around.

Balerion the Black Dread lay sprawled in the center of the Dragonpit sands, and both Dreamfyre and Silverwing waited nervously on the sidelines. Her Silverwing stood farther back than usual. Reaching out through their bond, Alysanne immediately felt her dragon's intense fear and shock.

She urged Silverwing through the bond to approach Balerion and, if possible, dig Gaemon out—but Silverwing refused, sending a clear message: Be patient. Wait.

Alysanne sighed and obeyed, ordering the two Kingsguard to stay close. Other than the dragonkeepers, the pit was empty. The lead keeper quickly approached and began explaining what had happened so far.

"So you're saying a black worm the size of an adult was pulled out of Balerion and killed by Dreamfyre?" Alyssa snapped, disbelief ringing in her voice.

"And why did my son jump into Balerion's belly with Blackfyre?" Alysanne demanded.

"I do not know, Your Grace," the dragonkeeper replied. "My guess is there's another worm, and Dreamfyre couldn't reach it."

As if summoned by their words, a hideous screech echoed through the pit, followed by Gaemon's furious snarl. With horror, Alysanne watched as Gaemon was flung out of the hole in Balerion's body, landing hard on the ground. His entire body was drenched in black pus that bubbled violently, as if trying to eat him alive. A massive chunk of flesh near his stomach was missing, as though some beast had torn into him. Blood poured from the wound without end.

But the most horrifying sight wasn't the injury—it was Gaemon's face.

There was no pain.

No fear.

Only wild, bestial rage.

"AHHHHH!" Gaemon screamed and, using Blackfyre as a lever to stand, lunged back toward the hole. As if catching his fury like a contagion, Balerion let out a ear-splitting roar and breathed fire at his own body and the hole as Gaemon vanished back into the wound.

Alysanne had only a glimpse before the fire consumed the area—but in that moment, she saw it: the black pus had vanished from Gaemon's body. She understood then—Balerion was helping her son, by burning the liquid.  Screeches and roars echoed through the pit. The sound of bones cracking followed. Alysanne stood frozen in worry as Dreamfyre stepped forward and, inhaling deeply, exhaled a torrent of blistering flame into the hole.

A moment later, a monstrous screech tore through the air as Dreamfyre jerked back. From the smoking wound, a grotesque black worm burst out. Gaemon rode atop it, Blackfyre buried to the hilt in its body.  She realized immediately that it was Gaemon's momentum and strength that had driven the creature out of Balerion's body.

With terrifying speed, Balerion rose and unleashed a roar that shook the pit—and then he breathed fire on the worm and Gaemon. Alysanne's blood drained from her face. She screamed in terror and ran toward them. The fire was black as night, more powerful than any she had seen before. Even Gaemon, born unburnt, might not survive such flame. The Kingsguard tried to follow, but a deep growl from Silverwing froze them in place.

By the time Alysanne reached the scorched sands, the ground had turned to glass and the worm was nothing but ash. Ignoring the searing heat, she rushed to Gaemon and pulled him from the embers.

"No," she whispered, then screamed when she got a good look.

Gaemon's skin was completely burned, blackened and peeling. Three large pieces of flesh were missing—from his stomach, thigh, and hand. His shoulder bore a gaping, bleeding wound where massive teeth had bitten down. She paled, realizing the worm had aimed for his neck—and her son had moved at the last second to take the blow elsewhere.

She cursed the gods, sobbing, but her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a cough.

Gaemon suddenly sat up, panting.

"Gaemon! Gaemon, my son—how are you? Why—why—?"

Gaemon looked around, spotting Balerion lying exhausted on the ground, panting heavily. He could feel his dragon's fury, pain, and the razor-thin thread of patience still holding him back. Ignoring his mother, his pain, and his nakedness, Gaemon stood, using Blackfyre as a crutch. His injuries meant little—they would heal. Though his healing was not yet at the level of his first life, it was still effective.

He saw the dragonkeepers standing nearby, horror etched on their faces. The entire garrison was watching. "Dragonkeepers!" he barked. "Bring every animal you can find for Balerion to feed on. Do not stop until he stops. Keep feeding him. Now." The tone in his voice brooked no argument—they ran to obey.

Alysanne snapped out of her shock and stood. "Gaemon!" she shouted. "What in the Seven Hells are you doing? You're half-dead—and yet you care about that black beast?"

Gaemon turned slowly, leaning on Blackfyre.

"It's that or Balerion kills the nearest dragons and eats them to heal the damn holes," he said flatly. "Also, this?" He gestured to his wounds. "It's nothing, Mother. I'll heal in a week. I'm going to pass out—don't let the maesters give me any of their poppy-milk or useless potions."

Alysanne stared at him, eyes wide. She looked at Silverwing in fear, then at her son's broken body. And then—her eyes widened even more. The burns on his skin were not fresh as before. The bleeding had stopped. She had no time to react further. With a dull thud, Gaemon collapsed like a tree felled at the root.

Authors note:  Finally..  gaemon has bonded with balerion and every bit of sickeness of balerion is extracted and killed…  also, ADS balerion had the same sickeness and when it died the worms also died because there was no magic sustaining it.    So if daemon claimed balerion in it, he had to do this  and extract the worms and even then  daemon's haeling is not at the level of gaemon in 80s AC.

Also going forward, I will try to update monthly as one of the major reason for delay was I planned on using ADS dragonlore, valyrian history for this fic.   So to not spoil ADS I kept this on hold .

FD 7: jae reaction and meeting with gaemon..

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF  and Marvel characters and all recognizable characters, plots, belong to GRRM and Marvel.  I have no ownership to it.

Chapter 7: A Song of Magic

King's Landing

5 days later.

Baelon Targaryen welcomed the roar of the crowd as they landed outside King's Landing. Alongside his father and brother, Baelon had easily and completely decimated the Dornish armada with their dragons—it had felt like hunting rats. At first, he'd felt some queasiness; it was the first time he was using his dragon for war and killing.

But the thrill of the hunt, the bloodlust of Vhagar, bled into him, and the excitement was intoxicating. Baelon wondered what madness had gripped the Dornish to make them attack with wooden ships.

He saw the king being greeted by a King's-guard knight and several members of the Small Council. The absence of his mother and Alyssa was jarring. Baelon could see that even Aemon and his father were unsettled.

Still, the king and his heir ignored the fact and didn't ask about the queen. They smiled for the nobles gathered, and soon the victory procession was about to begin.

Baelon looked at his brother and then at the king, who gave them a subtle nod. Grinning, Baelon sent the command to Vhagar.

ROAR.

All three dragons roared at once, soaring above the grounds and King's Landing. They had taken off after leaving their riders on the ground.

Baelon's grin widened as the thousands gathered along the path and outside the city walls cheered in awe. But the joy vanished almost instantly. The thunderous cheers and dragon cries were suddenly drowned out by another roar—from deep within King's Landing.

There was no real danger, but Baelon felt a chill at the sound of the Black Dread's voice. He forced a smile for the crowd, but it faltered when he saw the alarm flicker in the king's eyes.

The king turned to the Kingsguard beside him. Baelon watched as the knight leaned forward to whisper in the king's ear. For the first time, he saw panic on the king's face. It was quickly replaced by pride, and then a weary acceptance. The man who moments ago looked like a conquering hero now seemed burdened, as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders.

Baelon wondered what news could have shaken the king so deeply.

======================

Baelon didn't have to wait long to hear the news after reaching the Red keep, which took hours as the procession was slow.  The king immediately summoned Baelon, Aemon, and the Kingsguard to his chambers to explain everything.

Baelon could hardly believe his ears.

The full story of Gaemon's madness was laid bare. How Gaemon had stolen Blackfyre. How he'd tricked his niece and nephew into creating a distraction. How he had claimed Balerion after using other dragons—and himself—to hunt the cursed fire wyrms hiding inside the Black Dread. How Gaemon had been horribly burned, only to heal rapidly, just like Balerion, who had devoured an entire year's worth of meat in one sitting. Then there was the threat Gaemon made toward the queen's dragon, which had enraged everyone.

"Where is he now?" the king asked at last.

"Your Grace," one of the Kingsguard replied, "he is under the care of both the queen and Princess Alyssa in the Dragonpit quarters. The Black Dread did not allow them to move Gaemon, and the chambers of the head dragonkeepers have been taken for his care."

"Who else knows the truth?" the king asked, his voice cold. Both Baelon and Aemon stiffened as they registered the underlying tension and slight panic in the voice of the king.

"By now, rumors had spread throughout King's Landing about the 'wild prince' Gaemon, who was known to spend more time with animals than with people. Whispers said he had finally snapped and attacked something inside the Dragonpit. From there, the stories had grown wild and distorted. No one knew the full truth. Only us, the Kingsguard, the queen, the princess, and two knighted men-at-arms from the Red Keep know that Prince Gaemon attacked Balerion with Blackfyre," one of the knights said. "Fortunately, the queen ordered those knights to stay silent. They are currently guarding the Dragonpit entrance. No one else knows about Gaemon's otherworldly ability to heal—like Balerion."

The king sat in silence for a moment, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke.

"The truth will not be revealed. I declare it treason to speak of this to anyone else. Let the rumors spread, as they always do and hide the truth."

Then he asked, "The knights who saw the attack and reported to the queen, are they trustworthy enough?"

The Kingsguard considered the question. "They are loyal, Your Grace, but they're young. If someone is clever enough, they might extract the truth from them."

"Keep them in the Dragonpit for now. They are not to meet anyone except the dragonkeepers until I make a formal announcement regarding Gaemon's claim of Balerion. Inform them that they must not reveal that Gaemon used Blackfyre."

"Yes, Your Grace," the Kingsguard said with a bow.

"Aemon. Baelon. Come. Let us meet my third son and your mother."

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Dragonpit

Gaemon woke up to the earsplitting roar of his Balerion. He had two default states when waking from unconsciousness. One, he would go on a rampage and kill everyone in whatever prison he was held in. Two, he would fake being unconscious and examine the situation before making a move.

This time, he felt drained and exhausted in a way he had never experienced in his long life. He reached around his body and was relieved to feel that most of his burns had healed. The holes in his body had closed, and even the burns had reduced to first degree. The pain was still intense in his new body, but his mind had already discarded such useless sensations, as always.

He could smell his mother and sister nearby, diligently preparing bandages and cleaning. Gaemon really hoped they had followed his suggestion, the one he gave to almost everyone involved in healing. That they should wash their hands and equipment thoroughly in hot water.

My healing is really weakened, Gaemon thought, as he sent his mind through the new bond he could now feel.

He reached the end of the mental thread and sensed the heat of the great beast lying there.

'Balerion,' he called out.

The heat vanished, and the background around Gaemon blurred. The surroundings reshaped themselves into two islands. One was clearly Dragonstone. The other had a manor that looked remarkably like the X-Mansion, surrounded by deep forests.

Gaemon understood at once. The islands represented their minds. He sensed Balerion flying from his own island toward Gaemon's.

'Gaemon,' Balerion hissed. 'Or Logan. Or Wolverine. What is it now, my bonded? I understood you were an old soul, but your memories—or how much you have not forgotten—truly surprised me.'

Gaemon grimaced, recalling the many gaps in his memory over the centuries.

'You can call me Gaemon. Logan is the dominant part of me now, but I understand from bonding with you that I have retained parts of the original soul of this body, Gaemon. After all, Logan could never bond with animals, let alone dragons. Let me honor his sacrifice, at least, by taking his name.'

'I understand more than you realize,' Balerion replied. 'Every rider I have had leaves something behind and is influenced in turn. If the rider is exceptionally strong, or the first, the influence is great. Look at the blue dragon. Her rider's hatred for Maegor and myself has seeped into her so much that she attacked you the moment she sensed a potential bond between us, all those years ago.'

Gaemon simply nodded.

'How are your wounds? Are they healing?'

'Yes, Gaemon. They are healing far faster and more cleanly than would have been possible without you. I have been consuming massive amounts of meat to fuel my regeneration.' Balerion replied.

Gaemon saw Balerion look away, his mind momentarily distant.

'Be warned, my bonded,' Balerion hissed at last. 'Your sire and nestmates are here.'

Gaemon's eyes widened slightly, then relaxed.

'So, Father and my brothers are back from their war against the Dornish. Good,' Gaemon replied. 'Are you ready if it comes to a fight?'

Balerion snorted.

'Do not worry, my bonded. There will be no fighting. Your sire may seem ignorant of the dragons' suffering and chains, but it was my will that made the others accept them. I took them on willingly, all those years ago, as punishment for the fate of my sweet Aerea. Your sire only used the situation to his advantage—and that of your family. Now that I am free of the chains, the others will be freed as well.'

Gaemon looked surprised. He had never considered why the dragons had not simply broken the chains themselves. They were intelligent and powerful enough to do it.

'That explains so many things.' Gaemon finally said.

========================

Baelon entered the room and saw Gaemon lying on the bed. His mother and sister Alyssa were changing the bandages. Even the presence of the king was ignored by the queen. Baelon was surprised that the king didn't interrupt and just watched the cleaning.

Baelon almost lost his lunch seeing the ugly wounds and burns, which in no way looked like they were only five days old. He felt rage and helplessness seeing his younger brother like this. Even though Baelon and Aemon had drifted further from Gaemon because of the age difference and their own busy schedules in the ruling of the realm, they still loved him.

The king watched his third son being cared for by his wife and remained silent. There was a solemn silence in the room, and unfortunately, Alyssa's hand slipped and struck one of the wounds with force.

"Fuck," a harsh growl came from Gaemon as he batted away the hands working on his body.

Baelon and Aemon looked at each other and grinned hearing his brother cursing at such a young age.

Baelon saw Gaemon open his eyes and look around the room, finally meeting all their gazes without any trace of fear. There was a barely restrained, orderly look in his brother's eyes, as if it were a chore to continue playing the part of a obedient son.

"Gaemon, I know you're in pain, but it's still not the time to curse your sister and mother. We've been taking care of you diligently for the last five days," Alysanne snapped, her exhaustion clear in her voice.

Gaemon looked at his mother and simply shrugged in response. He wisely didn't argue back and instead looked at his father and brothers.

"You are here, brothers. Gaemon said while looking at both of his brothers.  "That means the Dornish idiocy is over, and you've won."

Congratulations for ending the threat early," Gaemon finished while looking at his father.

Baelon paled in worry at the clear disrespect toward their father.

"Gaemon, and congratulations to you for successfully healing Balerion and bonding with him," the king said, surprising everyone.

Gaemon had a shrewd look on his face but didn't respond with insult, to the relief of everyone else in the room.

"I'm surprised to see you here, my king, without your chief lickspittle, the Septon, whispering in your ears about dragon affairs and how I violated many of the rules, including stealing your sword. In fact, I can't remember a meeting with you without the Hand present," Gaemon said with no visible emotion, only cold observation.

The king nodded. "Yes, Barth is our chief lickspittle, and I used him to maintain peace between the Faith and the Crown," the king said with surprising derision. "But this is a meeting for our blood only, and I must have a frank talk with you. Only Targaryen ears are worthy of what we're going to discuss."

"Jaehaerys," Alysanne snapped. "What are you talking about? Barth may be overbearing at times, but he has been our dear and loyal friend for over two decades."

Jaehaerys scoffed. "Don't be a fool, dear sister. We have no friends, only servants, and I measure them by how much utility I can extract. I used Barth to convince the Faith they had a voice in the Crown and to placate them. Now, after two decades have passed, and many of the lords who remembered Maegor are dead, all that remains is King Jaehaerys the Wise, the Conciliator, the Defender of the Faith. The Faith has been praising us for years now and henceforth couldn't change their stance without it affecting their own standing among the smallfolks. Barth has long outlived his use. It's time I give my dear friend a well-earned rest in the Starry Sept among the faithful. My sons have grown. Infact Aemon, I want you to become the new Hand of the King. This is your reward for doing the most in killing the Dornish."

Gaemon remained silent with a glint in his eyes. Alysanne looked as if she had been struck, as if seeing Jaehaerys for the first time in her life.

"I'll be glad to serve you, my king," Aemon said with a bow of his head. Baelon congratulated his brother by slapping him on the back.

The king just nodded. "No one is to speak about the Handship until I announce it. Now, for more important matters. Alysanne, tell me, have you seen with your own eyes our son Gaemon healing rapidly?"

Alysanne nodded. "Yes, brother. I have seen it. It was a miracle from the gods themselves."

Jaehaerys' eyes narrowed as he walked toward the bed. He saw Blackfyre standing near the table beside the bed and picked it up. The sword was caked with blood and grime, but Jaehaerys ignored that as he took it.

Surprisingly fast for everyone except Gaemon, the king slashed at Gaemon's hand with Blackfyre. Gaemon had already anticipated the move, and seeing it was an investigative slash, he didn't dodge or move away.

The sword made a slightly deep cut in his hand, while Alysanne screamed in surprise and threw the tray holding the bandages at her brother to protect Gaemon.

"What the fuck are you doing, Jaehaerys? Have you gone completely mad?" Alysanne snapped and continued cursing him.

Jaehaerys looked embarrassed for a second before shaking his head.

"No need to attack me, my queen. I just wanted to see with my own eyes. Gaemon here understood it perfectly. He could have moved away even from my surprise attack. Isn't that correct, my son?"

Gaemon grimaced but nodded. "Aye, I could have, Mother. Let the king satisfy his curiosity. I will always heal, after all."

"Enough of this," Jaehaerys said. "Now let's have our meeting near Balerion, so we can see all around us and no one can overhear us over the noise of the dragons."

Jaehaerys ordered this while sheathing Blackfyre at his hip and walking out of the room.

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The Hand of the King

Septon Barth had endured one of the worst weeks of his long career. Since the day Prince Gaemon was found inside the Dragonpit with Balerion, not even he—the Hand of the King—had been able to uncover what truly happened. The Queen had given strict orders to the Kingsguard that no information was to be shared with anyone, not even him.

Barth had once been relieved by Gaemon's survival all those years ago. But in the time since, the boy had grown into a constant source of frustration—for both himself and the royal family. The arguments, the intellect, the erratic behavior... it had all been mildly amusing at first. Then it turned dangerous.

Barth had worked long and hard to earn the trust of the King and Queen. He had even helped pass that abominable Doctrine permitting incest within House Targaryen, all to ensure the Faith retained its influence across Westeros. Yet, even with those concessions, his accomplishments were few. One of his rare victories had been persuading Queen Alysanne to grant lands in the North to the Night's Watch. He had hoped it would anger the Northmen enough to provoke rebellion, especially at a time when the realm had only two active dragonriders and infant heirs.

But perhaps Alysanne was too charming, or the Starks too cowardly. Either way, rebellion never came.

Barth really thought that would anger the northmen enough to rebel when there are only two dragonriders and only a little children as heirs, but maybe Alysanne was too charming or the Starks too cowardly.   Barth knew he had underestimated the good king's intelligence after that incident where the king quietly took power back from the queen without almost anyone realizing it. The king had convinced the queen never to issue a unilateral order like the Gift ever again without discussing it with him first.

Barth had to admire the cleverness the king showed, making it seem as though it was all to support his dear wife in everything, and not because the previous decision had been foolish.

Ever since then, Barth had made no overt moves to promote the Faith. He had served loyally and faithfully. He decided that the next generation should be his focus. Why fight with the old when the young could be influenced so easily? Everything had been going well too, until Gaemon.

The prince had utterly rejected all gods and disappeared like a rat into the shadows whenever religion is mentioned. More than that, Barth still remembered the accusation Gaemon had thrown at the king:

"You married Aemon to Jocelyn, your own half-sister, ensuring that no other house could use her as a bargaining chip. You married Baelon to Alyssa to secure her dragon for our house. You've used my siblings, Maegelle and Vaegon, to infiltrate the Faith and the Citadel, the soft powers of the Seven Kingdom."

Barth had long thought that getting Maegelle to become a septa and a devout follower had been his victory. The idea that the king might have done the same to influence them back had never even crossed his mind until Prince Gaemon said it. He had thought hard and long about it, and for the life of him, he could not find an answer.

And now again, while the king and his princes prepared to defend the realm, the youngest prince was doing something dangerous. Barth had taken pleasure when Jaehaerys denied all his children permission to claim Balerion. Barth hated the wretched beast with a passion. It was the beast that had killed thousands of the faithful. It was the beast that had turned the Sept of Remembrance into a pile of ashes. It was the beast that broke the Faith of the Faithful.

He had visited the Dragonpit monthly under the pretense of writing his book, just to see how far the monster had declined toward death. The fact that he, a pious and faithful man, was forced to feel anger and hatred when the Mother taught love for all only made his rage burn hotter. And now, Gaemon had done something to Balerion, and the wretched beast might not even die of sickness. The fact that he could not even confirm the truth was beyond frustrating.

Barth had rejoiced at the end of the war and the return of the king, because he thought he could finally hear the full story. The Kingsguard whispering to the king during the procession and later holding a secret meeting had been outside of his knowledge. When the king gave him the honor of hosting the arrogant lords and managing the court, Barth cursed Gaemon once again.

Now, as he sat on the Iron Throne holding court and listening to the endless whining of some lords, he cursed himself for ever praying for Gaemon's recovery all those years ago.

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Author's Note: I had written another 2k words and the meeting in this chapter itself.. but during editing it was too much reminiscent of ADS meeting and I don’t want to spoil that and hence I split the chapter into two…  probably I will publish it this month itself after ADS 40 is published. 

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