Red Keep, Godswood — 77 AC
"Hey! I just like watching A Song of Ice and Fire, and you really threw me here. How am I supposed to live like this?"
A child's voice, filled with sorrow, echoed through the Red Keep, which covered nearly an acre and was surrounded by a godswood filled with elms, cypresses, and black cottonwoods. Beneath the trees grew dark red dragon's breath grass, and the trunk of a large oak was wrapped with smokeberry vines.
Following the voice, one could see a small figure lying on his back under the great oak. He was about a meter tall, with long silver-gold hair and fair skin that shimmered faintly like holy light. Though still a child, his features already hinted at striking future handsomeness. Judging from his size and appearance, he looked to be only five or six years old.
He was none other than our protagonist — Gaemon Targaryen.
Born under the red flag and educated in modern New China, Gaemon had always been a firm believer in science. Yet fate had played a cruel joke on him — he had been reborn into another world, one that seemed ripped straight from A Song of Ice and Fire.
Though it was difficult to accept, there was nothing he could do but face the truth and adapt to this strange new reality.
Perhaps it was because he had spent his final moments in his past life playing Baldur's Gate, set in the D&D universe, that when Gaemon first arrived here, he quickly discovered a strange phenomenon — a fragment of godhood hidden within his spiritual sea, something that should exist only in the D&D world.
Although its power was faint, the godhood fragment instinctively fused with his soul, granting him a mysterious gift: the power of a Dragon-Vein Warlock.
It wasn't the mage class he preferred when playing Baldur's Gate, but it was still a magic-wielding profession. Yet, due to the differing worldviews, Gaemon soon noticed that his Dragon-Vein Warlock powers had changed significantly.
In this world, there was no Weave of Magic to regulate the flow of arcane energy. The ambient magic was chaotic and unstable, making structured spellcasting impossible. Unlike the D&D world, where wizards could easily channel the Weave, this world's magic could only be accessed through bloody rituals and sacrifices — crude, cruel, and dangerous.
Such primitive sorcery bred only darkness, blood, and madness. Spellcasters relied on pain — often that of their victims — to stir mental energy strong enough to control the chaotic magic around them.
By contrast, the power of Gaemon's Dragon Vein was far more refined. It revolved around absorbing ambient magic and awakening the dormant might within his Targaryen bloodline.
When Gaemon was first born, his body had been frail to the point of death. The maesters of the Red Keep had predicted he would not live long. But in desperation, Gaemon turned to the one thing he could recall from his old world — meditation.
He began training his mind, visualizing the process of gathering energy as he had read in countless fantasy novels. During his first meditation, he inadvertently opened his spiritual sea, triggering the fusion with his godhood fragment — and thus awakening his "Dragon King Bloodline Magic System."
Through constant meditation, he absorbed trace amounts of magic from the air, strengthening his body and bloodline.
After four long years, Gaemon finally activated his first ability — the Blood of Awakening.
This ability was the foundation of his Dragon King Bloodline. Its activation signified that the latent power in his blood had truly awakened. With it came two innate skills: Breath of Dragon Flame and Flame Affinity.
Breath of Dragon Flame (Newly Awakened): Once per day, Gaemon can exhale a 15-foot cone of blazing fire. Creatures within the area take fire damage, and flammable objects may ignite. Using this ability causes temporary fatigue and dryness of the throat.
Flame Affinity (New Awakening): Grants enhanced resistance to fire and heat.
With the awakening of his blood, Gaemon's frail body began to strengthen day by day. He could finally leave behind the weakness that had plagued him since birth.
Realizing there was no return to his old world, Gaemon accepted his fate. Sitting under the oak, he stretched his right leg forward, bent his left, rested his left hand on his knee, and clenched his right fist before him. Feeling the surge of power coursing through his veins, he whispered to himself:
"Finally… it's over. From now on, I'll only grow stronger."
As if to celebrate his resolve, a gentle breeze swept through the godswood, rustling the crimson leaves of the great oak. They clapped softly against one another — like a divine applause, as if the tree itself blessed the reborn prince.
Smiling faintly, Gaemon rose, dusted off his clothes, and began walking back toward the castle.
Leaving the godswood, he followed the cobblestone path through the Red Keep, crossed the covered bridge beside the throne room, and made his way toward Maegor's Holdfast. Servants and guards who saw him stepped respectfully aside, bowing deeply.
Gaemon accepted their gestures calmly. As a prince, excessive humility would only unsettle those raised in a world of rigid hierarchy. Still, he often returned their greetings with a slight nod — something many nobles found beneath them. His subtle kindness made him beloved among the castle servants and common folk, who praised the young prince's manners and gentle nature.
Within the Red Keep, Gaemon had his own chambers. Once old enough to move freely, he began arranging them to his liking. He partitioned part of the spacious room into a small training and study area, where he could focus on his magical development.
Though only four years old and scarcely a meter tall, the journey back from the godswood took him some time. When he finally reached his room, he went straight to the fireplace. Inside, bright flames danced, illuminating the stone walls with a warm crimson glow.
At the center of the fire rested a dragon egg — about the size of a human head, covered in gold-and-silver scales that shimmered in the flickering light.
It was the very egg Queen Alysanne had placed in Gaemon's cradle at birth.
Standing before the hearth, Gaemon gazed at the egg and murmured softly, "Don't worry. Soon… we'll finally meet."
When he was a newborn, his weak body could not withstand the strain of absorbing magic, even with the godhood fragment's help. Fortunately, the dragon egg had acted like a magical conduit, filtering chaotic energy into gentler currents that his body could handle. In return, the egg absorbed much of this purified energy, growing stronger itself.
However, that same process delayed the hatching of the dragon within — the creature that should have been born four years ago still slept inside its shell.
Now, with his bloodline awakened, Gaemon finally had the strength to help the dragon emerge.
He calmed his breathing, sensing the faint pulse of life within the egg. Then he retrieved an ornate dagger from his desk — its silver hilt inlaid with a large sapphire. The dagger had once been a noble's gift to King Jaehaerys I, long forgotten in the royal treasury until Queen Alysanne brought baby Gaemon there one day.
At that time, the curious infant had grabbed the dagger and refused to let go. Amused, the Queen had allowed him to keep it. From that day onward, it became one of Gaemon's most treasured possessions.
Now, years later, the dagger would serve a higher purpose.
Drawing it from its sheath, Gaemon held it firmly and made a shallow cut across his right palm. Bright red blood welled from the wound. Ignoring the searing heat of the fire, he extended his hand over the dragon egg, letting the drops of blood fall onto its shining surface.
As his blood touched the shell, he began to chant softly:
> "Blood and Fire,
Fire and Blood.
Blood for Fire,
Fire for Blood.
The blood of the Dragon King awakens the dragon in stone…"
His voice was low but steady, each word resonating with power. The flames flared higher, as if fed by invisible oil, and soon the egg was engulfed in a pillar of fire.
Gradually, the fire's intensity lessened — drawn into the egg itself. The wood in the fireplace burned down to embers, and when the final sparks faded, the bleeding from Gaemon's palm stopped.
He withdrew his hand and watched intently.
The egg, once still, now began to tremble.
Crack… crack… crack!
The sound of breaking shell echoed through the quiet room. Gaemon's heart pounded in his chest. Moments later, a small golden-tinted head broke through the shell, letting out a faint but proud roar.
The newborn dragon blinked its curious eyes, taking in the world for the first time. Upon seeing Gaemon, it chirped twice in excitement and struggled to free itself completely. Its tiny wings flared open, breaking apart the remaining shell with surprising force.
Finally free, the baby dragon stumbled toward Gaemon, unsteady but determined.
Gaemon waited patiently until the little creature reached him. Then, kneeling, he gently scooped it into his hands.
The hatchling was no larger than a cat, its scales shimmering with a pale metallic sheen. At first glance it appeared golden, but under the firelight, Gaemon noticed that the scales were actually platinum.
A smile spread across his face.
"Your color is platinum," he whispered softly. "I happen to know of another dragon, a legendary one — also platinum. Though you come from a different world, I hope you can be like him. From this day forward, you shall bear his name — the Father of Good, the Lord of Order, the Platinum Dragon… Bahamut."
The young dragon lifted its head as if understanding his words. Then, tilting its neck toward the ceiling, it released a long, clear roar — weak, but filled with pride and joy — announcing its birth to the world.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)