Gunaseelan K
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Chapter 1: Advent
🕑 Added 2025-10-16 17:36:05 +0000 UTCBefore the ocean, the earth, and the sky that covered everything came into being, the world was a formless, round mass. The sun had not yet shone upon it, and the moon had no phases.
The lightest element, fire, rose and became the sky, finding its home in the highest place. The air, lighter than earth but heavier than fire, settled between the two and became wind. The element of earth sank to the bottom due to its own weight, forming land. The fluid element of water flowed to the lowest places and surrounded the solid land.
Thus, fire, wind, earth, and water—the four primordial elements—shaped the universe and ultimately gave birth to this world, a cradle for countless living beings.
No one knows how much time passed or how many ages of beasts and plants came and went before the first intelligent race appeared—the Children of the Forest. They ruled the continent of Westeros and worshipped nameless gods. Scholars from Oldtown would later call these deities the Old Gods.
The Children of the Forest carved faces into the weirwood trees and perceived the world through a mystical “greensight.” Their era became known as the Age of Dawn.
During this time, the continent of Westeros was also home to the race of giants. Because of their vast differences in culture and lifestyle, the Children of the Forest and the giants often stood in conflict. This uneasy coexistence lasted until the arrival of the First Men—the first humans to set foot in Westeros.
The First Men waged war upon the Children of the Forest and the giants for hundreds of years before the three ancient races finally reached a fragile peace. This period became known as the Age of Heroes.
Thousands of years later, the Andals sailed across the Narrow Sea, bringing with them steel and fire. They conquered the old kingdoms, driving the Children of the Forest and the giants to the far north and felling countless weirwoods. From then on, the Children of the Forest vanished from Westeros, and the Age of Men truly began.
The Andals gradually mingled with the First Men, merging bloodlines and traditions. They brought with them their faith in the Seven Gods and the ideals of chivalry. Many new kingdoms arose across Westeros, each vying for power. Endless wars followed—until the dragons came.
Aegon Targaryen, astride his dragon Balerion, together with his sisters Visenya and Rhaenys, who rode Vhagar and Meraxes, united almost the entire continent under their rule—except for the southern kingdom of Dorne. This conquest became immortalized in history as Aegon’s Conquest.
From that day onward, Westeros adopted a new calendar: the Calendar of Conquest (AC), beginning from the year when Aegon Targaryen was crowned by the High Septon in the Great Starry Sept of Oldtown.
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Red Keep, 73 AC
For decades, King’s Landing had stood as the capital of Westeros since Aegon’s landing. Over time, it became the political heart of Targaryen rule and the largest, most populous city on the continent. At its center rose the Red Keep, the ancestral castle of House Targaryen, from where royal decrees shaped the fate of the realm.
But today, the Red Keep was cloaked in anxiety.
Servants, guards, and courtiers moved cautiously through the halls, fearful of making the slightest noise that might disturb the chamber from which a woman’s anguished cries echoed.
For on this day, Queen Alysanne Targaryen, wife of King Jaehaerys I and queen of the Seven Kingdoms, was giving birth to her eleventh child.
At thirty-seven, Alysanne was an older mother, and the labor was proving difficult. Her hoarse screams spoke of unbearable pain. Beads of sweat rolled from her pale forehead as the maids hastily wiped them away with wool towels.
Outside the chamber, several anxious figures with long silver-gold hair and striking violet eyes paced the corridor—her children, each bearing the signature features of House Targaryen.
“What’s happening? Mother’s given birth to so many of us, and it’s always gone smoothly. Why is it different this time? Why hasn’t she given birth yet?”
The speaker was a tall, broad-shouldered young man with sharp, noble features and a restless energy that radiated like a drawn sword. He was pacing back and forth before the door, his anxiety plain.
“Belron, could you stop for a moment and quit pacing?” came a sharp voice from beside him.
The rebuke came from another young man with the same silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes. Belron’s restlessness clearly grated on his already tense nerves.
“I’m just worried about Mother,” Belron muttered, stopping reluctantly.
His brother ignored him, his gaze fixed on the closed door, violet eyes filled with desperate hope for good news.
A few steps behind them stood several beautiful young women—princesses of the realm—holding hands tightly, their faces pale with fear and concern.
Suddenly, a deep, commanding voice echoed down the corridor.
“Aemon! How is your mother? Has she not given birth yet?”
Everyone turned to see a group of men approaching. At their head walked a tall, dignified figure with long silver hair and a strong, weathered face—King Jaehaerys Targaryen himself, followed by several Kingsguard knights in white cloaks.
At once, all those present bowed deeply. “Your Majesty, King Jaehaerys, may you be well!”
Though known for his calm and composed demeanor, the King’s face now bore only worry and fear.
He had seen his wife through ten births before, each without serious trouble. But when word reached him that she was suffering a difficult labor, he rushed from council to her side, dread gnawing at his heart.
In this age, childbirth was a woman’s battlefield—a cruel gamble between life and death. Though Alysanne had survived ten such battles, this time was different.
When he reached his eldest son, Prince Aemon, the King asked urgently, “What news from within?”
Aemon turned and answered quickly, “Father, the maester says Mother’s strength is failing. She is too weak to help in her own delivery.”
Jaehaerys’ heart tightened. A mother too weak to bear her child often meant tragedy—for both. He forced the thought away, unwilling to face it.
“Open the door—it’s me!” he commanded.
The attendants hurried to obey. The door swung open, and the King strode inside, two of the Kingsguard remaining at the entrance while others followed him in.
The room was filled with the heavy scent of blood. On the grand carved bed lay Queen Alysanne, drenched in sweat, her face pale but resolute. Beneath her, the white wool mat was soaked scarlet.
Seeing her like this, Jaehaerys felt his heart clench. He rushed to her side, grasped her trembling hand, and leaned close, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Alysanne, do not be afraid,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’ll be fine. The Mother will bless you and see you through. I know you can do this.”
At the sound of his voice, a faint smile appeared on Alysanne’s exhausted face. Strength seemed to return to her as though drawn from her husband’s presence.
Half an hour later, the cries of a newborn echoed through the chamber. The long ordeal was over.
The midwives cleaned the infant and placed him beside his mother. Relief washed over the royal family gathered outside, and soon they crowded around the bed.
“Mother, is it a boy this time?” one princess asked excitedly.
“Oh, I finally have a little brother! I’ll play with him every day!” said another, her voice full of joy.
Watching this tender scene, Jaehaerys allowed himself a rare smile of peace. Then his tone grew firm once more.
“Enough. Your mother has just endured great pain and needs rest. Do not trouble her now. Speak with her later.”
The girls nodded obediently, though their eyes lingered with affection before they quietly left the chamber.
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In the days that followed, Queen Alysanne recovered swiftly, regaining her strength sooner than anyone expected. Yet her heart was not at ease.
The maester had warned her that the newborn’s condition was frail—that he might not survive infancy. The thought struck her like a blade. She could not accept that the child she had nearly died to bring into the world might not live.
So, once she was able to walk, Alysanne insisted that her husband accompany her to the Dragonpit—the lair where the mightiest treasures of House Targaryen were kept.
There, among the relics and the bones of dragons long gone, she searched until she found one particular egg—white as snow, with golden scales glinting between the ridges.
She cradled it carefully as they returned to the Red Keep. To her, it was more than a relic—it was hope.
Within her chambers, Queen Alysanne placed the dragon egg beside her newborn son’s cradle, whispering prayers to both the Old Gods and the Seven.
King Jaehaerys watched silently before speaking in a solemn voice:
“This child’s life begins with struggle. May this egg give him strength. Let his name be Gaemon Targaryen.”
Alysanne looked up at her husband, her tired eyes softening. “Gaemon the Glorious—the greatest Lord of Dragonstone in our history?”
Jaehaerys nodded firmly. “Yes. May this name’s power guide him. Let him be ‘glorious’ once more.”
