The Smoking Sea

(Leave your brain here.)

(White Walker feeding station.) (The White Walkers said they didn't like the taste and returned your brain!)

This is my first time writing, so please bear with me! ( ˶´⚰︎`˵ )

The boards of the rickety bed seemed to have soaked up years of sweat. Dark brown grime covered the original grain of the wood, gleaming like a polished patina and giving off the sour stink of sweat mixed with the briny reek of the sea.

The bed creaked as Aegon sat up irritably. The pungent smell peculiar to the Smoking Sea mingled with the stale, moldy air inside the cabin and filled his nostrils, putting his already exhausted nerves further on edge.

As the fleet ventured deeper into the Smoking Sea and drew closer to the Valyrian Ruins, he grew increasingly unwell. The agony of his past haunted him in nightmares, leaving him unable to sleep peacefully for several nights in a row.

It was not only his mind that suffered, but his body as well. The blood running through his veins seemed to be rejected by these cursed waters. The sensation defied explanation, yet felt utterly real, like being watched by a starving beast, its almost tangible malice wrapping tightly around him.

Drawing a deep breath, Aegon suppressed his irritation and walked over to the porthole to look outside.

The dark green seawater boiled. Through the dirty orange mist, he could just make out scattered islands in the distance, telling him that his destination was drawing ever closer.

Aegon rested his hand on the wooden frame of the porthole, feeling its rough texture as he silently called, System.

A panel visible only to Aegon appeared before his eyes, bringing with it a flood of information.

Name: Aegon Targaryen

Strength: 20 (Assessment: You are very strong, but have not yet reached the human peak. There is still room for improvement.)

Spirit: 67 (Assessment: Your spirit is extraordinarily powerful. You can perceive things ordinary people cannot. Who knows whether this is a blessing or a curse?)

Agility: 20 (Assessment: With twice the agility of an ordinary person, you can seize the initiative at every turn.)

Constitution: 23 (A healthy body means you rarely fall ill. Except for curses?)

Current status: Cursed (Notice: The souls consumed by blood and fire still curse the blood of the dragonlords who set foot upon this land!)

Current lottery draws: 0

Current check-in location: Deep within the Valyrian Ruins (In progress)

Aegon was not from this world. Many years ago, he had transmigrated into the world of Game of Thrones and become Aegon Targaryen, who shared his name. Unfortunately, he had become neither Aegon the Conqueror nor any of the kings named Aegon in the history of the Targaryen Dynasty, but Young Griff.

As a devoted fan of A Song of Ice and Fire in his previous life, he naturally knew who Young Griff was: the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, the boy whose head the Mountain had smashed against a wall. Had the War of the Usurper never happened, that Aegon Targaryen would have been known as Aegon VI.

When Aegon first arrived in this world, he had not even been born. He was not so much as a baby, merely a newly formed embryo.

Calling it reincarnation would have been perfectly accurate. He had experienced the entire process of slowly developing into a baby in his mother's womb and then being born, with only an adult's consciousness added to the experience.

Thus, the events written in the books had become the agonizing reality he lived through-

"My family destroyed, my loved ones dead!"

As for why he, a transmigrator, had made no attempt to stop it, what could a newborn infant do besides babble in his mother's arms?

He could only watch helplessly as he was roughly torn from his mother's warm embrace. When unbearable pain exploded in his head and blood blurred his vision, Aegon thought this life would come to an abrupt end. He had never expected to awaken the "Check-In Lottery System" at that critical moment.

With the system keeping him alive, he had endured countless dangers and fled to the far side of the Narrow Sea.

He reached up and touched the top of his head. There, concealed beneath his silver-white hair, lay a hideous, sunken scar.

Aegon's knuckles paled around the window frame, his gaze as cold as a blade. His recent nightmares served as a constant reminder that his hatred was far from spent.

He took a deep breath, released his grip on the window frame, and turned toward the cabin door. There was a bucket of water there, and he wanted to wash his face and calm down, but his gaze returned to the system panel.

The system's function was simple. As its name suggested, checking in at a designated location earned him lottery draws. It did not even have an intelligence such as a System Spirit, only a plain panel.

Looking at the check-in task marked "In progress," Aegon sighed helplessly. Laughably enough, this was still his first task since obtaining the system. Yes, his very first. It had not just been issued, either; it had appeared when the system first bound itself to him. Why had he failed to complete even the first task after all these years? Aegon looked down at his body with a bitter smile. Back then, checking in deep within the Valyrian Ruins had been nothing short of a fantasy, especially with his body still damaged. While struggling to survive across the Narrow Sea, he had barely been able to fill his stomach. Had people not taken pity on his tender age and occasionally given him a little charity, he might have starved to death in some corner of the Free Cities long ago.

As for why he had not sought out Viserys and his sister, who had likewise ended up across the Narrow Sea?

That, too, came down to his previous life. Having read A Song of Ice and Fire thoroughly, he naturally knew that someone in Essos had already secretly assumed his identity. If he rashly approached Viserys and his sister and revealed who he was, he would immediately become a thorn in that person's side. Then only death would await him.

In his previous life, many fans had suspected there was something wrong with the identity of Young Griff, the boy supposedly switched out by Varys and raised in Essos by Jon Connington. Some had speculated that he might actually be a Blackfyre.

Now, his very existence was the best proof that could expose that impostor's lie!

Lost in thought, he reached the bucket and scooped up a handful of water. The cold water slid over his face, clearing his head a little.

Bracing both hands against the rim of the bucket, he leaned forward. A reflection appeared through the rippling water: the classic features of a Valyrian.

His silver hair was like frost, making his features look all the colder.

His face was sharply defined, as though carved with blade and chisel, its contours striking and deep. His violet eyes were as unfathomable as the night.

As his gaze shifted, it was like the cold glimmer of a blade being drawn-silent, yet deadly.

This body had perfectly inherited the inhuman beauty of House Targaryen.

Aegon watched his reflection in the water, a faint sneer passing across his lips...

"This is far from over!"

Boom... A sudden crash rocked the ship violently, blurring the reflection on the water. Aegon's head snapped up as he looked beyond the cabin door.

Outside, the mercenaries who had been making such a racket moments before had descended into chaos. Some fled blindly, some sought cover wherever they stood, others cursed loudly, and still others stood rooted to the spot, at a loss. The deck was a scene of utter disorder.

Aegon frowned and drew his sword. Fortunately, he never took off his armor while away from home, not even to sleep. That habit saved him considerable trouble now as he rushed out of the cabin with his armor clanking.

As he ran, the chaos on deck continued, punctuated by curses, screams, and pleas for help.

"A monster! What is that monster?!"

"Help! Someone save me!"

"A sea monster! ...It's a sea monster...!"

"Damn it... that thing dragged Quent under." A mercenary watched as an unknown monster hauled his companion bodily off the ship and into the sea. Long, bloody scratches marked the deck where the man had clawed at it in his desperate struggle.

"I knew it... I knew it! We should never have come to this cursed place!" One mercenary could no longer withstand the terror and broke down screaming.

Violent waves battered the deck, sending some mercenaries tumbling across it. Others, driven mad with fear, swung their blades wildly without distinguishing friend from foe. Blood mingled with seawater.

Aegon strode onto the deck, and the scene before him made his brow twitch.

He even saw one unlucky mercenary take a sword blow to the chest from a companion. The man fell, struggled briefly, then went still.

Aegon's gaze turned cold. He knew their employer had hastily cobbled together this mercenary company; that was how he himself had joined. They did not even know one another, so he had never expected much of them. Still, he had not imagined they would be this useless.

Suddenly, an enormous shadow fell over the scene before him. Aegon whipped around.

A gigantic tentacle covered in fleshy growths rose out of the sea and lashed toward him like a small mountain.

As the tentacle drew near, Aegon could even make out the densely packed suckers beneath its growth-covered surface...!