91 AC – Three Years After Aegon's Birth
Aegon Baratheon Targaryen was not an ordinary child. At only three years old, he already impressed everyone with his physical strength. The young Targaryen had the body of a six-year-old boy, with muscles beginning to form, astonishing even the adults around him. While other children his age played games, Aegon preferred to test his strength, trying to lift large stones or imitate the gestures of Aemon, his father, during combat training.
He cared nothing for swords. The gleam of a blade did not entice him. Instead, the heavy sound of hammers fascinated him. From the moment he first held one, Aegon was utterly absorbed. It was the weight and force of the hammer that drew him in, and he seemed to have a natural skill with it, as if the weight of metal was a part of him. He didn't need to be taught. Aegon felt the power of brute strength in his hands. He was not yet a knight, but a warrior of a more primal nature, in tune with raw force.
Raised on Dragonstone, Aegon spent his days exploring the fortress's vast and shadowed halls. Those ancient stones, heavy with history, always called to him. He sensed something in the air. The Targaryen island had always been the home of dragons, and even though one had not yet awakened within him, Aegon knew that his destiny was intertwined with those legendary beasts. He could feel it in his bones.
But beyond his physical strength, Aegon was also being introduced to his studies, as noble custom dictated. He had lessons in High Valyrian, the ancestral language of his house. Although just a child, he could understand basic words and focused intently on mastering the more difficult phrases. Yet his true passion was not in books or speech. Aegon did not feel drawn to them. His body wanted more; his soul demanded more. He craved the weight of a hammer in his hands, the connection to the strength of his lineage.
Even at such a young age, Aegon was aware of the greatness of House Targaryen, but he also felt the weight of expectations his name carried. The pressure of being a prince, a future leader, was not something he feared. Aegon had no fear of what was to come — he wanted to change the Seven Kingdoms, to unite them around something stronger than the power of the crown.
Sometimes, at night, alone in his chambers, he would look out the window at the starry sky and wonder what the future held. He didn't know much about politics, but he sensed that something in the world was broken. Deep inside, Aegon knew he would be different. He did not want the throne like others did. It wasn't for power. It wasn't for greed. He wanted to be the best king — the most just. And to do that, he would need to be stronger than anyone had ever been. Aegon didn't view his strength as just an advantage. He believed that strength was the key to conquering all.
At three years old, Aegon was taken by Aemon to a hidden chamber within Dragonstone. The place was vast, cold, and silent, lit only by torches. In the center of the chamber rested a dragon egg. It had been there for over a century, covered in dust and mystery, and no one dared touch it.
Aegon was hypnotized the moment he saw it. He approached slowly, his eyes fixed on the opaque surface. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel something deep, something that called him closer. Aemon watched in silence, saying nothing, but a satisfied smile played on his lips.
When Aegon reached out and touched the egg, something strange occurred. A wave of heat began to radiate from within, and Aegon felt his body tremble. It was not a tremor of fear, but something more primal. Something that seemed to echo inside him. The egg shifted slightly, as if responding to the touch of the young Targaryen.
"A dragon..." Aemon murmured, seeing the egg react. "You are not just Baratheon, my son. You carry the fire of our house."
Those words, spoken softly, sank deep into Aegon's mind. He felt their weight, as if they were a sign of his destiny. He was not merely the son of Jocelyn and Aemon. He was not just a prince. He was a Targaryen, destined for something greater. He bore the fire of the house of dragons in his blood, and that fire would guide him to greatness.