The Tragedy of Summerhall
259 AC
The night reeked of smoke and sorrow.
High above the southern countryside of the Stormlands, the once-proud Summerhall blazed against the darkened sky. The fires reached hungrily toward the heavens, devouring timber, stone, and flesh alike. What had begun as a desperate attempt to reclaim the lost glory of the dragons had turned to catastrophe.
King Aegon V Targaryen had gathered his closest kin and loyal retainers, believing that with enough magic and will, they could hatch the ancient dragon eggs. But fate, as always, was cruel.
The fire spread swiftly. It fed on the dry woods and hung tapestries, on old beams and oiled banners. The screams of men and women, noble and servant alike, echoed through the stone halls until they were choked by smoke.
Among the dead were King Aegon himself, his beloved son Duncan the Small, and the legendary Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Prince Daeron Targaryen, youngest of the king's sons, also perished, his charred remains found near what had once been a cradle of unhatched dragon eggs.
Yet, in the heart of that ruin, a single life was born.
Rhaegar Targaryen entered the world amidst smoke and flame, beneath the shadow of death and the crackle of burning banners. Some whispered that he was born amidst song and sorrow, the last hope of old Valyria's blood.
Far away, in Sunspear, the capital of Dorne, a woman felt her own labor begin.
Princess Loreza Martell, proud ruler of Dorne and widow to Prince Daeron, clutched her swollen belly as the news arrived — her husband was dead, lost to madness and flame at Summerhall. But the child within her would live.
Through the long night, as the heat of summer pressed against the stone walls, she gave birth to a boy. His hair was dark as a raven's wing, and when he opened his eyes, they gleamed a strange, molten gold.
Loreza, exhausted and heartsick, cradled him to her chest.
"Mars," she whispered. "My son of fire and blood."
And in the hidden corner of his infant mind, a consciousness stirred.
A soul reborn.
"Where am I?"
The storm raged on.