An Unexpected Beginning

The cold, suffocating sensation preceded consciousness.

Aemond Targaryen opened his eyes to find himself sprawled on the cold, damp stone floor.

A dull ache throbbed in his forehead, and a faint scent of blood filled his nostrils.

Memories that weren't his own pierced his mind like ice picks.

Not long ago...

He had been riding Vhagar in the midst of a storm...

"Aemond! You thief! Coward!"

"What right do you, a thief, have to call us bastards?"

The childish yet furious shouts dragged him back to reality.

Aemond pushed himself up, clutching the wooden sword he had snatched, and looked at the three boys and two girls standing before him.

The one in front, with brown hair and brown eyes, handsome features now contorted with rage, was Jacaerys Velaryon.

Behind him were his brother Lucerys, and the even younger Joffrey. All three pairs of eyes were fixed on him.

They too had injuries on their faces; it was clear they had just been through a brawl.

And then there were the two girls with white hair and violet eyes—Rhaenyra and Baela, the children of Prince Daemon Targaryen.

And Aemond, the second son of King Viserys I and Queen Alicent Hightower.

Everyone was drenched and covered in mud.

The evidence clearly showed that it had been a five-on-one ambush.

Five people ganging up on him.

At that moment, the scratch marks on Aemond's left cheek stung.

Aemond gripped the stolen wooden sword tightly in his hand.

"Speak! You disgraceful wretch!" Lucerys took a step forward, fists clenched.

"You thief!"

"You stole something of ours, Velaryon!"

"That's Rhaenyra and Baela's mother's dragon!"

"Vhagar doesn't belong to you!"

The knowledge of the transmigration and the original body's memories collided violently.

Aemond instantly understood. This was the Dragonpit on Driftmark.

As for what had just happened?

The original body had mounted Vhagar, the oldest living dragon of the Targaryens, and soared through the storm.

No, not just that.

He knew what was about to happen next: a fight, an accident, an eye.

Then the seeds of hatred would be sown, eventually growing into a poisonous tree that would destroy the entire kingdom...

In this part of the story, he lost an eye.

But now?

"I didn't steal," Aemond said, his voice hoarse and calm, with a coldness that didn't belong to a twelve-year-old boy. "The dragon chose me."

"Vhagar chose me."

"And dragons never belonged to the Velaryons."

"Dragons belong only to Targaryens."

"Don't forget, it was the Targaryens who gave you the right to ride dragons."

"And, about what you just said about being bastards..."

"As your uncle, I apologize."

The children were stunned for a moment.

Aemond's sudden retort and apology left them at a loss.

Jacaerys was the first to recover:

"Sophistry!"

"Thief!"

"You should be ashamed!"

"It was Your Majesty Viserys who gave Rhaenyra and Baela the priority to ride their mother's dragon!"

These words left Aemond speechless.

Indeed, the king had granted them priority.

And he had ridden a dragon without permission, knowing that once a dragon recognized a rider, it would not accept another unless the original rider died.

But that was something his original body had done; what did it have to do with him now?

Seeing he had no retort, the children's faces showed smugness.

Lucerys, standing nearby, pressed his advantage.

"You and your slut mother are both disgraceful thieves!"

"Trying to steal the throne, steal dragons, steal everything that rightfully belonged to my mother!"

And this sentence completely ignited something deeper within Aemond.

This emotion did not belong to the transmigration, but to the humiliation, anger, and loneliness that his original body had accumulated over several years.

Ever since he was young, Aemond had been mocked by his brother Aegon and these three boys, told he was only fit to ride pigs and called a freak.

Now, the other party had publicly insulted the queen Alicent, the original body's most beloved mother.

The residual sense of humiliation erupted like a volcano; no matter how calm he was, he couldn't suppress it.

This was a dangerous, reason-destroying rage.

Aemond could feel his blood boiling.

"You bastard," Aemond slowly straightened his body. He was half a head taller than Lucerys, his wet silver hair plastered to his cheeks, his purple eyes fixed on the other, his killing intent unconcealed.

"Say that again if you dare."

Lucerys was intimidated by Aemond's aura, but upon hearing himself called a bastard.

The boy's hot-bloodedness immediately clouded his mind: "I said, you and your..."

Before he could finish, Aemond moved.

Lucerys, despite being prepared, dodged Aemond's sideways step and took a heavy elbow to his ribs.

Lucerys grunted and bent over.

Seeing his brother being beaten, his elder brother Jacaerys roared and lunged forward.

But Aemond grabbed Lucerys's shoulder and shoved him hard towards Jacaerys.

The two boys collided and staggered back.

Rhaenyra, Baela, and Joffrey picked up stones from the Dragonpit floor and hurled them fiercely at Aemond.

Aemond couldn't dodge them all and was hit several times.

But he didn't press his advantage. The remnants of his reason told him he couldn't fight anymore.

If he continued, given the nature of these children, blood would surely be drawn.

Just like in the original story, he would lose an eye.

He didn't want trouble, but he wouldn't let them walk all over him.

"How dare you!!" Lucerys, lying on the ground, gasped, his eyes red.

And Jacaerys, as the eldest brother, seeing his second brother lose control, could only charge forward with him.

They lunged again, more ferociously this time. The three tumbled into a brawl, knocking over a bronze candelabra by the Dragonpit wall.

The candelabra fell with a loud crash, flames flickering and casting huge, distorted, entangled shadows on the stone walls.

Rhaenyra and Baela, two young girls, seeing the situation turn bad, let out sharp, girlish screams, trying to attract the guards of Storm's End.

Joffrey, seeing his two brothers entangled with Aemond, also wanted to help.

In the midst of the fight, Aemond unconsciously kicked Joffrey away.

Joffrey rolled to the ground, wailing loudly.

"You damn bastard! Let go of my brother!" Lucerys was furious, seeing his younger brother kicked away and crying.

Jacaerys's eyes also turned red.

A helpless rage surged in Aemond's heart.

He hadn't wanted this; why did they have to push him!

Fists, fingernails, knees... the children, having lost their reason, escalated the fight into a life-and-death struggle.

Aemond felt a fist smash into his cheekbone, his ears ringing.

But he also grabbed Lucerys's hair and slammed his head hard against the ground.

Once, twice.

Lucerys's head was bloodied.

"You son of a bitch! Let go of my brother!" Jacaerys rammed in from the side.

Aemond was knocked away, his back hitting the stone wall with a dull ache.

My vision went dark.

Amidst the chaos, Aemond caught sight of something extra in Lucerys's hand...

It was a dagger inlaid with obsidian and pearls.

Sharp enough to easily cut flesh, cartilage, and even... eyes.

Lucerys had already gotten up, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and charged at him again.

Only pure hatred remained on that young face