Judgment at Dawn

The first light of dawn finally tore through the deep night over the Narrow Sea, slanting across the horizon and staining the black beach a bleak iron gray.

Hugh "Hammer" awoke to a burst of excruciating pain.

Cannibal's blow had broken several of his ribs. Every breath felt like a red-hot iron stabbing into his lungs. The moment he opened his eyes, the harsh daylight made him squint. Then he saw who stood before him.

The four-year-old prince stood directly in front of him, his small body casting a long shadow in the dawn light. There was none of a child's softness in those purple eyes, only an icy chill.

Behind him stood fully armed knights and soldiers. Their torches had gone out, leaving only wisps of smoke drifting in the morning breeze. Every gaze rested on Hugh, filled with awe and undisguised murderous intent.

A rasping sound escaped Hugh's throat. He could not understand what he had done wrong to make a Targaryen prince mobilize the entire island to hunt him down. He wanted to beg for mercy, to plead for his life, but the moment he opened his mouth, he spat out a great mouthful of bloody froth.

Aegon slowly crouched down. His young voice was soft, but each word pierced Hugh's ears like a steel needle tempered in ice.

"I dreamed that, more than ten years from now, you forged yourself a black iron crown and called yourself king. A knight knocked that usurper's crown off your head with a single stroke of his sword." Aegon brushed his fingertips over a sharp-edged horseshoe lying on the sand. It had been fetched from a nearby stable, though he had no idea whether it was identical to the three Hugh had driven into Ser Roger Cren's skull in his "dream." "For revenge, you hammered three horseshoes into that knight's skull. A cruel, inhuman act."

Hugh's eyes flew wide, his face filled with bewilderment and terror. He had no idea what the prince was talking about. What crown? What knight? He had never even been to King's Landing and had barely met a noble in his life. How could he possibly have done such a thing?

But Aegon gave him no chance to defend himself.

He stood, stepped back half a pace, and looked up at Garwin. His voice held no trace of emotion, only an unquestionable command. "Give him back the evil he committed in my dream. Three horseshoes, hammered into his skull. I want him to taste the pain that loyal knight suffered before his death."

Strictly speaking, Ser Roger Cren could hardly be called a loyal man. He had been a knight of the Blacks, yet secretly supported the original Aegon II and the Greens.

During the First Battle of Tumbleton, when Hugh and Ulf, the "Two Betrayers," turned against the Blacks, Ser Roger, whose heart had long been devoted to His Grace Aegon II's cause, ordered his men to open Tumbleton's gates to the Greens. This prompted Baron Orwyle Bracken, who defended the castle, to follow suit and open the gates of Tumbleton's castle as well.

But everything depended on comparison. Leaving aside Hugh and Ulf, whose ambitions drove them to covet positions far above their station, even Roger's own defection had been to Aegon II-and was that not Aegon himself? Granted, this was the future of the original story. It had not happened yet, and might never happen now. Still, were fence-sitters not sometimes the most detestable of all?

Then there was Orwyle Bracken, who surrendered alongside him and, while doing so, treacherously killed Ser Merrill "the Bold" with a spear from behind.

Later, he grew so arrogant that he believed the Greens' victory was his own achievement. Had he possessed a dragon to ride, he might well have tried to seize the throne, just like Hugh and Ulf.

When the leaders of the Greens later regrouped at Tumbleton to discuss their next moves, that clown even attempted to take command of the army. Ser Hobert Hightower, Earl Unwin Peake, and Ser Jon Roxton all fiercely opposed him. Unwin even stabbed Orwyle in the eye during the war council.

He delivered a line that became immortal in the original story-

"Once a turncloak, always a turncloak!"

-Unwin Peake

By comparison, Ser Roger Cren, who defended Aegon's good younger brother Daeron when he was insulted and angrily struck off Hugh's self-forged black iron crown, undaunted by the might of his mount Vermithor, the "Bronze Fury," absolutely qualified as a noble, brave, and loyal man in Aegon's eyes.

Back to the present...

"Your Highness, you must not!" Determined to preserve Aegon's long-standing reputation for noble "mercy," Viry Fell abruptly stepped forward, his face pale. "He is already condemned to die. To treat him this way is too... too cruel! It violates the spirit of chivalry!"

"Chivalry?" Aegon turned, his purple eyes sweeping coldly over him. "Should we wait until he burns the people of the Seven Kingdoms with dragonfire, tramples Targaryen glory beneath iron-shod hooves, and insults the royal bloodline with filthy words before discussing chivalry with him?"

His voice rose sharply, carrying the ferocity unique to Targaryen blood, like an enraged young dragon. "Mercy toward him today means cruelty toward the countless loyal souls who will die horribly in the future, toward us subjects of the Iron Throne, and toward the true dragon blood of House Targaryen! Ser Viry, remember this: mercy toward the wicked is a crime against the good."

Viry froze. His mouth opened, but he could not utter another word. Seeing the coldness in Aegon's eyes, he finally understood that this little prince, usually so gentle and merciful, bore the blood of dragonlords in his very bones. Mercy was his choice, not his shackle.

Watching his nephew display such kingly authority, Garwin could barely contain his own anger. Before his father Otto left King's Landing, he had specifically told Garwin that he was being left there to protect Aegon. At the command, Garwin immediately bowed. "As Your Highness commands!"

He waved a hand, and two household guards immediately stepped forward and pinned the still-struggling Hugh down. Hugh screamed in despair, twisting desperately, but his broken ribs left him without even the strength to move. He could only watch as a guard picked up the cold horseshoe and raised a heavy hammer.

The first hammer blow cracked across the black beach at dawn.

The pointed end of the horseshoe pierced flesh and sank into the edge of his skull. Hugh's agonized scream echoed along the empty shore. Aegon stood where he was, watching without expression, not a flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

It was not that he lacked cruelty. He simply reserved it for those villains destined to betray him and unleash blood and fire.

The second hammer blow rang out, followed by the third.

All three horseshoes were driven into Hugh's skull. His screams gradually weakened, then ceased altogether. His eyes remained wide open as he died in the dawn light, beneath the very torture he would one day inflict on another.

A deathly silence settled over the black beach.

Everyone bowed their heads, afraid to look at Aegon again. Today, this four-year-old prince had shown them just how terrifying the wrath of a true Targaryen dragon could be.

Aegon's gaze swept over them all before finally settling on Larys Strong.

"Ser Larys."

"At your service." Larys immediately stepped forward and bowed deeply, his gray eyes filled with reverence and fear.

"I do not wish to hear of anything that happened tonight from anyone other than the few of you here." Aegon's voice was mild, yet carried unquestionable authority. "You should know how to handle this."

"Rest assured, Your Highness." Larys bowed slightly, his characteristic smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "I guarantee that no one beyond those present will learn the truth of tonight. Everything that should remain unsaid will stay buried within them."

He understood such matters all too well. Silence was never secured through pleading, but through fear. Dragonstone was not a large island. The families, property, and lives of everyone present tonight lay in Targaryen hands. With only a few small measures on his part, no one would dare breathe a word.

Aegon nodded and said nothing more. He turned toward the horses waiting nearby, and Garwin immediately stepped forward to lift him carefully into the saddle.

The party retraced its route toward Dragonstone Castle. Only Hugh's cold corpse remained on the black beach, along with the dawn tide washing over the bloodstained sand again and again.

At dawn, the smithy beside Dragonstone's docks suddenly burst into flames.

Fanned by the wind, the fire grew fiercer, swallowing the entire shop and the home behind it. By the time the castle guards arrived, the buildings had already collapsed. No one inside survived-the old smith Tob, his wife, and his two sons all perished in the blaze.

The official explanation was that the forge had been left burning overnight, and a stray spark had ignited the firewood, causing an accident.

The television adaptation did establish Hugh as the bastard son of Princess Saenyra, the sister of Aegon and Rhaenyra's grandfather Baelon, and thus Viserys's aunt-the daughter of the Old King Jaehaerys and Good Queen Alysanne.

But the Laena Aegon had met was white, so he believed this world must primarily follow the original books, with the television version serving, at most, as a supplement. Princess Saenyra, who now ran a famous pleasure house in Volantis and had caused a scandal in her youth with several handsome noblemen among her companions, surely would not have taken an interest in a smith on Dragonstone. Besides, the ages, timing, and location did not line up.

And even if Aegon really had killed her former lover, what of it? When he conquered Essos in the future, merely sparing all those mongrel dragon-blooded descendants of hers from extermination would make him every bit as "merciful" as people claimed.

No one questioned it that night, nor did anyone dare.

Only Larys Strong stood on the castle terrace, watching the flames rise skyward from the docks. He gently turned the oak cane in his hand, a cold smile curling at his lips.

To cut down weeds, one must pull out the roots. His Highness only ordered Hugh dealt with; he never said to spare his family. Naturally, it falls to me, his trusted servant, to remove these potential threats for him. After all, this is the responsibility His Highness "entrusted" to me.

Still, Aegon knew the truth could not stay hidden forever. Tonight had gone too far, and his father Viserys would certainly learn of it. But as a man obsessed with dragon dreams, Viserys would surely understand his excuse about a "dream."

In his room in the Sunrise Tower, Aegon sat by the window, having gone the entire night without sleep.

The fire in the hearth had long since died, leaving only dark red embers. He could clearly feel the warm power of the Valyrian blood that had flowed within him for four years rapidly draining away.

The initial twenty-percent bonus had vanished completely, and nearly half the bloodline purity he had painstakingly accumulated over those four years had been lost along with it.

On the half-unlocked system panel in his mind, only a solitary "Wild Dragon's Friend" status remained, hanging there with an unknown effect like some colossal joke.

He held out his hand and stared at his small, tender palm, endless frustration and anger churning within him. Four years of planning, every step carefully calculated, yet a single lowborn traitor had cost him most of his accumulated bloodline strength in one night.

What unsettled him even more was the weight of taking a life by his own command. Even knowing Hugh would commit monstrous crimes in the future, even knowing he had done the right thing, he still could not remain wholly unmoved when those three hammer blows fell and a life faded before his eyes.

He was not, in the end, a born tyrant. He was merely a transmigrator who wanted to protect those he cared about and rewrite a tragedy.

Outside the window, daylight had fully arrived. Morning light spilled into the room and fell across him, but it could not dispel the chill in his heart.

Just then, the door was gently pushed open.