Chapter 1: | Chapter 01: Cruel Reality |

| With Aegon Targaryen, During The Morning On The Red Keep - 126 AC |

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Reincarnation has always been considered a far-fetched notion by some. There are those who believe the concept was invented to pacify weak minds, a comforting fantasy designed to alleviate the fear of death by offering the illusion of continuity.

While I must concede that such ideas might seem absurd, I am oddly enough living proof that death can be, in some inexplicable way, defied.

No one knows this but me and whatever higher power orchestrated my return.

My name wasn't always Aegon Targaryen. I was once known as Arthur Knight, a regular person living a mundane life in the 21st century on Earth.

Now, the name Arthur serves as a painful reminder of a past life that has become increasingly elusive. After 19 years in this world, my memories of that former existence have faded to a dull gray. Time has eroded the vivid recollections of people and places I once knew.

My family, friends, even my old home—these are now distant, foggy impressions. The ease with which I have forgotten a life that ended only 20 years ago is unsettling. It pains me more than I care to admit.

What troubles me even more are the current challenges I face. Born into a world I barely understand, armed only with a basic knowledge gleaned from watching the first two seasons of a show and reading countless fanfics, I have struggled to navigate my new reality. This world, as Aegon Targaryen II, the son of King Viserys I, is as complex as it is daunting.

A usurper by design, Aegon is a product of failed parentage and the machinations of ambitious men who have placed the weight of their schemes upon his shoulders.

Despite the struggles, not all has been bleak. I've managed to forge a closer relationship with my 'father,' the king of the Seven Kingdoms, compared to my counterpart. Yet, despite my efforts, I haven't been able to alter the course of events in the few years since my arrival.

Time slipped by like a breeze, and I found myself entering the usual chamber where my family gathered for daily meals, such as breakfast.

"Good morrow," I greeted as I walked toward my customary seat. The sound of the doors opening had announced my presence with its usual clarity, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

The first thing I noticed was my grandfather's piercing glare, unmistakable among the many stares directed my way. He seized the opportunity to lecture me in his signature righteous manner. "Aegon, you are late." His calm, measured tone was both unnerving and maddening—a familiar tactic of Otto Hightower, who used it to express displeasure.

I took a moment to glance around before responding. My mother, seated with grace at the head of the wooden table, wore her usual green dress. The crown atop her head lent her an air of regal superiority that outshone everyone else in the room. I smiled slightly at her. Despite her shortcomings as a mother, Alicent Hightower's love for us was evident, even if she often struggled to express it.

To Mother's left sat my sister-wife, Helaena, in a blue dress that I knew was one of her favorites. The sight of her made my heart swell with affection. The years spent growing up with her had fostered a deep, unexpected bond.

My gaze shifted to the remaining occupant, my younger brother Aemond, who sat a seat apart from Helaena. Aemond took the opportunity to chime in with his own remark about my lateness, tinged with concealed jealousy. "—as always," he snickered, his tone dripping with disdain, while his face remained impassive.

I chose to ignore him, offering a courteous but insincere apology to Grandfather as I approached my seat with deliberate slowness. "Indeed, I am late, Grandfather. Forgive me."

My voice was calm, and I allowed a hint of amusement to color my words, which seemed to ease the tension slightly. Fortunately, Helaena came to my aid with a soothing remark that spared me from further boring exchanges. "It happens. Don't worry too much about it." Her shy yet encouraging tone was accompanied by a warm smile, something I had grown accustomed to since our marriage.

I nodded in acknowledgment, replying, "Indeed, I shouldn't."

As breakfast continued, I savored a piece of bacon, enjoying its salty, smoky flavor. To break the awkward silence, I addressed my mother with a question I had been meaning to ask since my arrival. "How is Father this morning, Mother?"

"He has seen worse days," she replied, her tone a mix of sadness and faint hope. I sighed silently in relief. Despite this being my second life, I regarded these people as real, not just fictional characters from a story. Unfortunately, this attachment meant I faced the reality of their mortality, particularly that of Viserys Targaryen, my father in this life.

Grandfather's intrusion brought me back to reality. He seized the moment to press his schemes once more. "His health is deteriorating. The maesters say it's only a matter of time before he passes."

I met his calculating gaze with a frown, recognizing his attempt to steer the conversation towards manipulating me into overthrowing my sister.

The knowledge that Father might die soon did not sit well with me, and grandfather's opportunistic approach felt like a vulture ready to pounce on the soon-to-be deceased king.

Mother's eyes widened in alarm as she defended me with all the courage she could muster. "Father!" Her voice quivered with worry, cracking under Grandfather's unrelenting glares.

"There's no use in denying it, Alicent," he said coldly. His disdain for her concern was palpable, while she knew that if he succeeded in making me king before Rhaenyra, it would likely lead to a succession war.

Yet, my mind wandered through the possibilities of what actions I could take in the coming days to maintain some semblance of peace in this new life. The next few days would be crucial in determining how my future would unfold.

While I zoned out, mother and grandfather continued their heated argument, their voices rising with each exchange. Helaena, sitting nearby, flinched with every shout that echoed through the chamber.

Mother's voice, tinged with both sadness and hope, cut through the tension. "Still, we should hope for the best—" But Otto, ever the opportunist, interrupted her mid-sentence with the sharpness I had anticipated.

"The best? When was the last time something positive happened to the king?" Otto roared. Mother recoiled at the harshness of his words, realizing that the discussion was spiraling out of control.

My frustration with grandfather's exploitation of my father's misery boiled over in that instant, "Enough!" I shouted, slamming my hands on the stone table. The impact stung my palms, but the adrenaline I felt kept the pain at bay.

Helaena I noticed, shrank back in surprise, while Mother looked on, shocked by my sudden outburst. Otto and Aemond, however, only narrowed their eyes, unmoved by the disruption.

In turn, with a resolute stride, I left the table and addressed them firmly. "There's no point in discussing my father's deteriorating health or the future at this moment." My left hand gripping the pommel of Blackfyre tightly, its ruby eye glinting as though it were a predator's gaze.

Grandfather seemed poised to respond with more criticism, but I cut him off decisively. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see my father. Afterwards, I'll be training with Ser Criston and Ser Hugh until lunchtime." And my tone left no room for argument.

Only Helaena managed a smile, offering me a sweet farewell. "Have a good day, Aegon." In response, I kissed the top of her head when I passed her seat, and then exited through the heavy doors.

Ser Criston and Ser Hugh fell into step behind me, their white capes fluttering in the draft of the Red Keep's corridors.

"Thank you, dear wife," I muttered to myself, with a smile that was genuine, despite the lingering anger towards my grandfather. It was then that I could finally relaxe my grip on Blackfyre's pommel with a relieved sigh, my hand numb from the pressure.

As I approached the King's bedchamber with my sworn shields, I was met by the sight of two Kingsguard on duty, to whom I nodded in respect before addressing them both.

"I am here to see my father, the King." The voice I used was authoritative, and yet warm.

It was nothing worthy of note however, as I had always admired the twins Arryk and Erryk since I had watched the show. And seeing them in person, standing guard with unwavering dedication, brought a smile to my face.

My good relations with the Kingsguard ensuring that I wouldn't let a recent argument sour his demeanor towards them.

Arryk, acknowledging the me with a respectful nod, replied, "Certainly, my Prince." And I could see that his bearded face bore a small smile, while Erryk nodded silently in my way.

The twins then carefully opened the heavy doors, taking great care not to disturb the king's rest. Which made me smirk slightly at their diligence, before I stepped into the chamber as soon as the doors were fully open.

Meanwhile, Ser Criston Cole and Ser Hugh took their positions by the door.

... Change to 3rd Person Pov:

As Aegon entered the chamber with careful, measured steps, he unfastened Blackfyre from his belt and placed it on a nearby richly carved wooden table with a soft thud.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of herbs, and Aegon's brow furrowed at the sight of several empty bottles of milk of the poppy near his father's bed.

Before he could dwell on it, a faint, weakened voice emerged from behind the veil that shielded the king from the sunlight.

"Who goes there?" Viserys asked weakly, turning his head slowly toward the sound of Aegon's footsteps.

"It's me, Father," Aegon replied softly, the gentle edge to his voice soothing the weary king. "I'm Aegon, your son."

Viserys's eyes flickered with recognition, and he beckoned his son closer with a faint, pleading gesture. "Son? Come closer."

Aegon obliged, taking a seat beside the bed. "How are you faring, Father?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

Despite his frailty, Viserys managed a small, amused smile. "As strong as ever." Aegon nearly rolled his eyes at the attempt at humor but responded with a touch of levity, "Well, I can't say I see that."

Viserys chuckled softly, a painful but genuine laugh. "Gods, you could learn to lie a little," he said, his tone tinged with wry amusement.

Aegon shook his head with a small smile. "I could, but it wouldn't help you in this situation."

The conversation lulled for a moment before Viserys broke the silence with a heartfelt question. "How have you been lately, my son?" His voice was filled with an earnest desire to know.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, considering his response. "I could be doing worse," he said thoughtfully. Viserys's eyes brightened with a hunger for more details.

Noticing his father's interest, Aegon continued, "Sunfyre is growing bigger, surpassing even Meleys in size now. I've been training diligently with the sword." His face softened with a warm smile, and Viserys seemed relieved by the news.

"I see," Viserys murmured, his voice growing faint as he coughed weakly. Aegon brought a cup of water to his father's lips, hoping it would ease his dry throat.

Viserys drank gratefully before turning to his son with a sorrowful tone. "Forgive me, son..."

Aegon looked puzzled. "For what, Father?"

"For everything," Viserys said, his voice barely a whisper. "I should have been more present in your lives and more caring."

Aegon, though touched by his father's words, quickly shook his head. "It's in the past, Father. No need to dwell on it."

Viserys nodded, though he continued to voice his regrets. "Perhaps, but it still pains me." His son's presence seemed to bring him some solace.

"Alright, don't strain yourself," Aegon said, noticing his father's agitation. "You need to rest now. Rhaenyra is coming later today; she'll want to speak with you."

Viserys's eyes brightened slightly at the news. "She is?" His voice carried a hint of resentment, remembering how his daughter had long ceased visiting King's Landing.

Aegon, aware that he should leave to avoid overexerting his father, replied, "She is, Father." Viserys looked conflicted, but Aegon chose not to dwell on it.

Standing up, Aegon retrieved Blackfyre from the table. "Please, get some rest and don't overexert yourself, Father."

"I will, son," Viserys promised, his voice weary but resolute.

As Aegon was leaving the bedchamber, he failed to notice the faint, wistful mumble that escaped the old king's lips. Lost in his dreams, Viserys murmured, "Perhaps I should have waited and named you my heir instead... Perhaps I still... can?"

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| Ending Note: So, how was the first chapter? Comment here any doubts you guys may have, and I will answer then to the best of my capabilities. |