Chapter 02: Making Sense of This Mess

Dornish Marshes, Ruins of Summerhall

Beginning of the 2nd Moon, 259 AC

Prince Aerys Targaryen

After having a night full of rest and sorting through all of my memories, I had a very good grasp of my new situation, I am Ten and Five name days old, and my name is Aerys of House Targaryen, I am the Heir Apparent to The Iron Throne, my father Jaehaerys Targaryen is now the King after the death of my grandfather Aegon V Targaryen, my mother Shaera Targaryen, and we are the last of House Targaryen, a Dynasty that ruled the Seven Kingdoms, a continent-wide kingdom for 259 years, and full of fools and madmen, chief amongst them my grandfather, who in his infinite wisdom decided to gather the whole family to witness the futile effort of hatching Dragon eggs, using the most volatile and dangerous substance in the Known World "Wildfire".

The only reason my parents and I survived is due to my father's frailty, you see, he was born with a weak body, and that is what made him unable to attend the whole ceremony and my mother was supporting him in his chambers, and as the ceremony was approaching its final stage my predecessor run to their chamber excited to bring them to witness it, but before they reached the site everything exploded in a green inferno of Wildfire, it was a scene out of nightmares, with the screams of the people inside as they were dying in agony.

After everything calmed down we were confronted with the fact that no one survived and were forced to make camp outside the burned ruins, and that is where I come in after the poor boy gave up on life, and died from grief.

I have gone over his memories of arms practice and I have to say that he was average, not too bad, not too good, but that is mostly his disinterest in putting effort into anything substantial, his pool of knowledge left much to be desired, apparently seeking knowledge is not encouraged in this martial oriented society, the less said about economic the better, as most nobles consider it beneath themselves to count coper as they label it with their overinflated egos, the dynasty itself is a mess of huge proportion, as in the span of 259 there was only two competent Kings (Jaehaerys I, Daeron II) and few mad ones, the others were either fools or just figureheads who changed nothing.

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The Capitol is a monstrosity and so is the Throne, each Lord Paramount is like a King in their domain, and the Crownlands which are directly under the royal rule are the smallest if we ignore those rocky isles filled with pirates, The North is the biggest and yet barley populated, the Southern kingdoms are full of schemers and oaths breakers, and the royal family even before this catastrophe didn't have that big of an authority.

As I was contemplating my bad luck, I was interrupted by a sound from outside the tent.

"Your Grace, my I inter," a feminine sound said.

"yes, you may" I replied, and the tent was swarmed by a couple of maids who helped me bath and change before telling me that breakfast was ready and that my parents were waiting for me, as I exited the tent I found Ser Gerood Hightower waiting for me, as it is with the death of most of the Kingsgaurd he is by default the Lord Commander, the only other survivor is Ser Cristan Crabb the last addition to the order, from the look on Ser Gerold I can tell he is feeling a huge deal of guilt over what happens, our walk went in silence until we reached my parent's tent that was guarded by Ser Cristan and some man-at-arms, I entered the tent to find a somber scene with mother red-eyed from crying and father sporting eye bags from doubtlessly staying up most of the night.

As soon as I entered my mother hurried to hug me and started crying, while my father looked at me with the eyes of a haunted man, I sat at the table and we barely ate anything, only for father to tell me that we would need to make it to the Capitol with all hast before the word of what happened spread across the realm, and I have to agree as with all the tension that the kingdom is facing we can let any opportunity to more trouble than what we have.

During our brief and somber breakfast, I took the opportunity to examine my parent for any magic residue, only to come up with nothing, it appears that their magic has gone dormant, but I need to have a closer look to make any definite conclusion.

After breakfast, we hurriedly made our preparations to go back to King's Landing, we took the remains of our deceased family and the other victims of the tragedy for the funeral and burial and brook camp and departed with all hast.

On our way to the Capitol, we'd only made the necessary stop to rest, we avoided stopping at any castle or big town and made it in 10 days after leaving most of our unnecessary load to catch up later with most of our staff.

Once we reached King's Landing we were welcomed by the Hand of the King Lord Ormund Baratheon and members of the Small Counsel, and we took with all hast to the Red Keep under the sound of the Bells of the Great Sept of Baelor announcing the death of the King.