The keepers moved deeper into the pit, their murmured High Valyrian words blending with the scrape of chains against stone. The heavy iron links clanked as they loosened, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. Then the shadows stirred.
Silverwing emerged.
The dragon's massive form filled the passageway, her pearlescent scales catching the sunlight in ripples of silver-white. As she folded her wings against her back, the leathery membranes whispered like sails being furled. Her golden eyes, slit-pupiled like a serpent's, fixed on them with ancient intelligence. Hot breath gusted from her nostrils, carrying the scent of charred meat and molten rock, kicking up swirls of dust around their feet.
Aegon's chest tightened. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, his palms growing damp. The sheer size of her - nearly sixty meters from snout to tail - made his knees weak. This close, he could see the scars along her flank, the worn edges of her claws, the way her muscles coiled beneath her hide. Every instinct screamed at him to flee from the apex predator before him.
Alysanne stepped forward, her movements smooth and unhurried. "Kirimvose," she thanked the keepers, then turned to the dragon. "Lykirī, Silverwing."
The great beast lowered her head with surprising delicacy, pressing her snout into Alysanne's palm. The dragon exhaled through her mouth, the warm air ruffling Alysanne's skirts.
Aegon stood frozen, his mouth dry. He could see now how Silverwing's teeth - each as long as his forearm - gleamed like polished daggers when she parted her jaws slightly. The heat radiating from her body made the air shimmer, like standing near a forge.
"Come," Alysanne said, her voice cutting through his daze. "You may approach, but do not make sudden movements."
Aegon forced air into his lungs. His first step nearly faltered as the stone trembled beneath Silverwing's shifting weight. Each cautious footfall brought him closer to the dragon's overwhelming presence - the mineral scent of her scales, the faint metallic tang in the air, the low rumble in her chest that vibrated through his bones.
Silverwing turned her great head toward him. Her nostrils flared, drawing in his scent with audible sniffs. Warm air buffeted his face, carrying the ghost of last night's roasted ox on her breath.
"She knows you are of my blood," Alysanne said, her hand steady on his shoulder.
Aegon's throat worked as he swallowed. "Can I...touch her?"
"If she permits it."
He raised a trembling hand, fingers outstretched toward the massive creature. Silverwing remained perfectly still, her golden eyes watching him with unblinking focus. As his fingertips made first contact, the texture surprised him - the scales weren't rough like stone as he'd imagined, but smooth like well-worn leather left baking in the sun. When he pressed his palm fully against her side, he could feel the deep, rhythmic thrum of the dragon's pulse vibrating through his hand, each beat slow and powerful enough to shake a castle wall.
A peculiar sensation blossomed in his chest - something warm and strange that made his own blood seem to hum in response. He noted the odd feeling for later examination, though now wasn't the time to dwell on it, not with the living legend standing before him. The moment demanded his full attention.
Then Silverwing made a sound deep in her chest, a resonant hum that traveled up Aegon's arm and into his ribs. The vibration made his teeth click together.
Alysanne's smile reached her eyes. "She approves."
Aegon's fear melted away, replaced by a giddy rush. "When can I claim a dragon?"
"All in time, little one."
"Hmm."
"Patience," she chided, running her hand along Silverwing's jaw. The dragon's eyelid half-closed in pleasure. "A dragon is not a pet. It is a bond forged in fire and blood. When the time is right, you will know."
Aegon nodded mutely, unable to tear his hand away from Silverwing's scales. The dragon's presence filled his awareness - the heat, the power, the strange intelligence in those golden eyes. For the first time, he truly understood why his family ruled the seven kingdoms.
At night, as he lay in bed, he received the second surprise of the day.
[ Trait: Valyrian Bloodline - Targaryen Lineage
(+15% natural resistance to heat and fire)
(+25% in kinship with Dragons)
(+5% chance of receiving prophetic visions during sleep) ]
It should have appeared with that strange feeling when he touched Silverwing earlier.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
A flicker of pride warmed his chest.
Fuck…this is overpowered.
Being a product of incest isn’t so bad after all.
But then he frowned.
The trait hadn’t appeared where it should.The trait appeared as a small bud directly on the main stem of the class tree - which is not how he had designed it.
Originally, as a game feature there was no way the game character could develop a trait without having a class. There should be a class, appearing as a branch, and then its traits, appearing as leaves on it.
A sudden idea formed in his mind.
Maybe I should create a class to wrap around this trait. This way I could grow this trait while leveling up the class.
His mind raced through possibilities, [Dragonkin]? [True Targaryen]? Something to synergize with the Targaryen lineage.
But first, he needed to accelerate his current class progression.
I should speed up the upgrade of [Gluttonous Child].
Every meal, every interaction with high-value targets like the king and queen, it all needed to be optimized. The sooner he advanced, the sooner he could control how these rogue traits integrated into his development.
The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fading roses and damp earth as Prince Aegon walked beside Queen Alysanne through the Red Keep’s gardens. Two Kingsguard followed at a respectful distance, their white cloaks stirring in the breeze, while a handful of maids and servants trailed behind, ready to attend to the queen’s slightest need.
Alysanne’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her violet eyes sharp with irritation. She’s still angry about the ravens. It had been over two months since King Jaehaerys and most of the court had departed for the tourney at Lannisport, and despite her repeated demands for their return, there had been no sign of them.
“I never understand men and their love for tourneys.”
Aegon had heard her muttering it more than once under her breath, her tone laced with disdain. But today, she voiced it aloud, her voice dry and unamused.
“And those Lannisters…” She scoffed, shaking her head. “Few could compare to their arse-licking.”
He bit back a grin. His grandmother rarely cursed outright, but when she did, it was always precise, like a well-placed dagger.
The falling leaves crunched softly underfoot as they walked, the garden’s vibrant greens now tinged with gold and red. Alysanne sighed, her breath visible in the cool air. “Your grandfather promised it would be a short visit. Two moons gone, and not a word of their return.”
Aegon nodded absently, though his focus was elsewhere.
I’ve leveled up my class twice again.
He had leveled up his class two more times, spending a total of around 2,400 EXP. 1,100 to reach level 5 and another 1,300 for level 6.
Over the past two months, he’d been earning a consistent 30 to 40 EXP per day through everyday interactions and the occasional royal audience when Queen Alysanne let him sit in. His progress was steady, though slower than he preferred. With most of the court away, there were fewer high-yield opportunities for experience.
His class now displayed:
[Class : Gluttonous Child (Tier 1)]
[Prerequisites :
Have three meals a day for 15 consecutive days (satisfied)
Every attribute value > 2.5 (satisfied)
Age < 10 (satisfied)]
[Level 6 ( 0 / 1520 )]
[Trait : Strong digestion]
The trait's effectiveness had proportionally increased with each class level.
[Trait : Strong digestion
(Enhances nutrient absorption efficiency by 30%)
(Grants minor CON bonus based on food quality/quantity consumed)]
The attribute numbers floated in his mind, a silent reassurance of his progress:
[
CON 3.4
STR 2.5
AGI 3.3
DEX 3.2
INT 9.2
]
Four centimeters taller. He’d confirmed it that morning, pressing his back against the wall in his chambers and carving a fresh mark beside the old one. The steady rise of his Constitution had nudged his Strength from 2.1 to 2.5, though the changes weren’t without trade-offs. His arms and cheeks had grown softer, a layer of padding settling over his frame.
Too much feasting, not enough movement.
For weeks now, he’d stolen moments alone in his bedchamber to exercise—crouching until his thighs burned, pushing up from the floor until his arms trembled. If he didn’t, his trait and rising CON would turn him outright fat.
Alysanne’s voice pulled him back to the present. “You’ve been quiet today, little one.”
Aegon blinked, then quickly schooled his expression. “Just thinking.”
She arched a brow. “About?”
How much EXP I’d get if the king came back. But he couldn’t say that. Instead, he shrugged. “When Father and the others would return.”
Alysanne’s expression softened slightly. “Soon, I hope. I’ve half a mind to fly to Lannisport myself and drag them back by their ears.”
Ser Robin Shaw, cleared his throat. “Your Grace, might I suggest patience? The king’s ravens indicated they would return before the turn of the season.”
“Patience,” Alysanne repeated, unimpressed. “A virtue I’m beginning to resent.”
Aegon hid another smile.
They reached a stone bench beneath a weirwood tree, its pale branches nearly bare. Alysanne sat, gesturing for Aegon to join her. The maids immediately stepped forward, one offering a goblet of spiced wine to the queen, another presenting Aegon with a small cup of honeyed milk.
He took it gratefully, the warmth seeping into his fingers.
Alysanne sipped her wine, her gaze distant. “You’ll see a tourney one day, Aegon. And when you do, you’ll understand why I find them tedious.”
Because they’re just an excuse for lords to show off and waste time. But he nodded as if considering her words.
A rustle in the bushes made him glance over. One of the kitchen cats—a sleek black tom, prowled into view, eyeing them before darting away.
Alysanne followed his gaze. “Hmph. Even the cats grow restless with this waiting.”
Aegon sipped his milk, the sweet taste lingering on his tongue. If I keep this pace, I’ll hit Level 7 before the year’s end.
The thought was satisfying. But what he really needed was the king’s return—the surge of EXP that came with being near those who shaped the realm.
For now, though, he had his grandmother’s company, the quiet of the garden, and the steady crawl of progress.
"Grandmother, can I also join brother…" Aegon's question was cut off by a deep, rumbling roar that vibrated through the castle stones. Both he and Alysanne instinctively looked up through the high windows just as a massive shadow blotted out the sunlight for a heartbeat. The unmistakable crimson form of Meleys flashed overhead, her scarlet wings fully extended as she banked toward the Dragonpit.
Rhaenys is back.
The dragon's passing sent a gust of wind through the open balcony, rustling the tapestries and making the candle flames dance wildly. Alysanne's expression tightened slightly as she watched the dragon disappear behind the towers.
"Meleys makes quite the entrance," Aegon observed, still craning his neck toward the window.
His grandmother sighed. "That she does." Without turning, she addressed one of the nearby maids. "Send for Princess Rhaenys. Tell her to attend to me at once."
The maid curtsied and hurried away. Aegon noticed how Alysanne's fingers tapped impatiently against the armrest of her chair. The queen had been increasingly displeased with her granddaughter's frequent, unannounced flights.
She's going to scold Rhaenys again. Aegon wisely decided not to resume his earlier request about training. Instead, he focused on his plate.
