A COVER OF DARKNESS curled over the island, reaching as far as the white sands of the coast to the mountainous hills of Clingmans, blanketing it in shadows that hid any beauty and dangers of the terrain from the naked eye. A vicious storm had circled over the land of Veritas Isle, brandishing bitter winds that slammed bits of the sea over the land and breathe bitter chills of ice wind throughout the air, freezing the blood of any unlucky soul caught wandering under the veil of the night.

The only source of light that provided the smallfolk comfort was that of the moon, and even that comfort was fleeting. For as of the past three days the storm had raged and left many to whisper amongst themselves as their eyes wandered to a towering castle sheltered within a dome crater of the mountaintops. But that was not the sole reason the kingdom's inhabitants were tense. For hidden behind triple-lined walls surrounding its perimeter and the thick walls of brick that made up the towering structure so high it almost appeared to reach the heavens sat the ruling family of House Sargen.

Positioned in power for as long as any can remember, some suspect since the beginning of the First Men, ever since the Sargens had reigned. Lords and ladies, princesses and princes of the like and soon another would follow. Or so some had hoped.

Princess Selira, the eldest of Lord Kaiuss' daughters from his first wife Lady Deliphina from house Harclay, was amid her labors, confide to her bedchambers two months nearing its end which many had now hoped for. Servants, guards, and nobles the like who had resided in the castle could hear her lady's screams and cries of pain from every inch, never-ending it had seemed as if her labors had carried on for three days. A layer of sweat had collected on the princess' skin, her once white nightgown was now stained with blood from the waist down, fabrics clinging to her thighs and making her uncomfortable with every move.

Dozens of maesters and midwives surrounded the young princess throughout the days, only leaving the room when Selira, tired of the hovering, angrily demanded they depart from her chambers. The moment of peace was only brief, as her father, enraged by hearing the demand, had forced them all to return and cater to her. Selira held an inkling of distaste at the order, but a part of her couldn't blame him. Her mother had entered their shared chambers, under the same strenuous endeavor, only to never return from it.

Selira missed her mother.

Claere, her younger sister, had remained a constant by her side and blessing anyone could hope for. When her father's fears masked by rage had nearly consumed the room, Selira would tuck into her sister's side and try to escape the moment, briefly forgetting about the pain aching her body.

"Do you think," she had began weakly, choking softly on the water falling down her throat. She peered at Claere, eyes matted with dried tears and weighed heavily by exhaustion. "that this is the gods punishing me? For what we've done?"

Claere tensed as she lowered the cup back to the bedside, sweeping a glance throughout the room. The other inhabitants had provided the two sisters space they had desired, tending to small matters far enough to be out of earshot. Gathering herself, Claere drew her dark eyes onto her elder sister.

"How can they punish us for protecting our own? For far too long our family, and our people have suffered under those who saw it fit without care. And continue to do so." Her tone held a venom that, over the past few months of Selira's pregnancy, had toiled more and more. The young princess had never been one to hold on to spite, but she had changed and so did her family. "But this shall be our family's hope. It's future."

She cradled the swollen belly, feeling a gentle touch in response.

Selira allowed tears to spring fear but hardened her expression, inhaling a steady breath through the pain. She was the future heir of her house, the future Lady Sargen meant to rule in her father's stead until his time. And this was her first act as future heir. Her gaze drifted to the raging storm through her window before falling onto her swollen stomach. This would be no normal birth and had been set that way since the very beginning.

House Sargen and House Targaryen held much bad blood and strife between one another, a pile of bodies and the marks left behind from the war were ever-constant reminders that would take many years to heal. If it ever truly would. So when King Jaehaerys and his lady wife, Queen Alyssane, had sought forth a betrothal between Selira and their third son, Jaegar Targaryen, it did not come as a complete surprise. For what better reason to begin healing a decades-old rift than to combine two houses as one?

Or so it had seemed. Prince Jaegar was unlike his elder brothers, Aemon and Baelon, who were far kinder and gentler in suit combined than in comparison to the young prince who had already begun to obtain a reputation for his hostile attitude and, at times, violent temper. Claere had been adamant in her despise towards the prince and the aspect of him marrying her sister, her eyes became alight with a flame that could challenge that of the dragons themselves.

Selira, however, held a different perspective. While she held no love for the man himself, there were possibilities provided with such a courtship, luxuries that she could afford and obtain. King Jaehaerys had named his eldest son as his heir and Baelon reigned as prince of Dragonstone. Jaegar was the third son and made it everyone's problem in regards as his tongue was known to spew resentment over the fact, growing even more so when the title of prince consort weighed on his shoulders following their marriage. There were few times that Selira could recount seeing her husband, and those few accords had not been one of pleasure.

But it had been worth it or, at least, it had to be.

Upon a loud groan that resounded from the princess, a midwife, one of the elder and more trained in the matters of delivery had quickly rushed over. Peering under the thin nightgown her eyes lit with alarm and she moved with a steady urgency. "Your Highness, it is time. I can see the head. You must prepare to push."

Selira moaned tiredly, hands clawing at anything she could cling to. Claere had wrapped her sister's palms in thick cloth before rising them to the headboard. With each push, the princess latched an iron grip to the wooden frame, cries echoed around chambers with each strenuous strain until the midwife spoke. "Almost there, its shoulders are nearly free."

At that moment, something within the elder princess had snapped and whatever exhaustion and pain that had reigned over her body had subsided just enough for her to stumble forward into a sitting position. Ignoring the concern of those around her, Selira reached her hands beneath the gown, slipping between her thighs until they graced the slimy surface that could only be recalled as blood-soaked skin. The features of a head and face had been easy to map out- nose, lips, skull, jaw- all too small to be real, even in that moment. Through clenched teeth, Selira braced her hands on the mass and pulled it free with one final push.

Blood and other bodily inhabitants had been freed in the process, but the princess held no care as she tumbled backward into the mount of pillows and her sister's awaiting arms, pressing the squalling infant to her chest with shaky breaths as sobs tethered to life. Loud wails had sounded over the crack of thunder just outside, small hands flying through the air as if fighting an enemy that no one could see.

By the time Lord Kaiuss had returned to the room, the babe and its mother had been properly cleaned and tended to. Cradled closely to its mother's chest, the babe cried softly into its mother's breast. A boy, it had been declared. Standing close to his two daughters, his Majesty peered down at his grandson, eyes trained on the little body along with his mother and aunt. Blonde locs of hair, nearly silver, dusted along the base of his head, and startling eyes a shade of dark indigo stared up at his mother in awe. The members of House Sargen shared a silent look that spoke louder than words.

It was done.

A prince had been born, Daegar Targaryen and his story was just beginning.

author's note (1483 words):

🫀okay so, whew, this chapter was a trial, not only to write but to figure out how it will go. The setup for ACT ONE as the following chapter will be set during the Great Hall meeting and things like that, before we get into the shows (and some of the book's events). Daegar has been born and now a new saga is about to begin in the asoiaf history books, as he should.

🫀house Sargen has been changed by its battle with the Targaryens, so they are a little vengeful (who could blame them?). To provide some context- Selira is the heir to Veritas Isle, where she will become ruler. To begin healing the rift, Jaehaerys goes "marry my son", insert Jaegar and the trash he is (I'm going to state this here & now, we do not like this man). Jaegar isn't interested in marriage at all, and the next chapter will explore some aspects of why.

🫀 I'm to figure out a timeline for these characters, specifically their births, so for reference with the characters established: Daegar and Aenora will be born around 95 AC, with some distance between obviously. This will make them six roughly when Viserys is named heir. If I'm wrong, correct me, I am mainly just trying to add a starting point of their birth. It may change, it may not. I'll figure it out.

🫀 Selira and Claere are the best siblings, they get a note for themselves. Also, look at my closing banner for this book that I made! It took me so long, but here it is!