At that very same moment, on the other side of the world, on the western continent of Westeros.
King's Landing.
The largest city of the Seven Kingdoms stretched like an open wound beside the Narrow Sea. Half a million souls were crammed among narrow alleyways, blackened rooftops, and overflowing sewers. The stench was constant: sweat, urine, and excrement mingled under the sun, a perfume impossible to erase even with incense and flowers.
That day, however, the city was celebrating.
The tournament organized by King Robert Baratheon was more magnificent than any other in recent years. To celebrate the arrival of his new Hand, Eddard Stark, Robert had added ten thousand gold dragons to the champion's prize. The crowd roared with every clash of lances, and the nobles drank and laughed as if the world held no hidden threats.
Robert sat in the royal box, laughing loudly at the spectacle of steel and blood unfolding below.
Then, a shadow slipped in behind him.
Varys, the Master of Whisperers, leaned in and murmured by his ear:
"Your Majesty… there is bad news. The remnants of the Targaryens have appeared."
Robert's laughter cut off abruptly.
His face flushed, the muscles in his neck tightened, and with a roar filled with fury, he rose to his feet.
"Call a royal council!"
Silence spread through the box like a stain of oil.
Eddard Stark, seeing the king's expression, felt a bad premonition. That man who seemed to live only for wine, hunting, and prostitutes… never called councils without reason. And when he did, blood usually followed.
Royal Council
The doors closed behind them with a heavy thud.
As soon as they entered, Ned turned toward Varys.
"What happened?"
The eunuch did not beat around the bush.
"My lord, word has arrived that the supposed son of Rhaegar, Aegon, has appeared in Dorne. He has declared that after reclaiming the Iron Throne, he will take Arianne Martell as his wife."
Ned frowned.
"Aegon Targaryen… Wasn't that child killed during the sack of King's Landing?"
Varys shrugged ambiguously.
"Who can say? Perhaps he is a pretender, someone passing himself off as a dragon. But Oberyn Martell claims to have seen him with his own eyes. He swears the boy appeared before him out of nowhere, a miracle sent by the Seven, rescued by the gods."
A murmur ran through the chamber.
Robert waved a hand dismissively.
"Nonsense. Some old Targaryen loyalist probably hid him, just like they did with the Mad King's boy and girl."
Varys nodded slowly.
"And there is more. From Lys come rumors that Daenerys Targaryen has married a certain Khal Kerse… a lord of the Dothraki horsemen."
Robert's face twisted with anger.
"Daenerys marrying a savage?" he growled. "We should send her a wedding gift."
He paused, his eyes gleaming with cruelty.
"A sword. Very sharp. In the hands of a good assassin."
Ned stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, she is nothing but a child. You won't do such a thing… you won't become another Tywin Lannister."
Robert slammed his fist onto the table. The crash echoed through the room.
"That whore won't take long to give birth to bastards! Bastards with dragon blood who will cross the Narrow Sea to attack us! And don't forget that idiot Viserys, calling himself king! I want them dead!"
"Murdering a child is shameful," Ned replied firmly.
Robert's voice rose even higher.
"She won't take long to spread her legs and fill the world with dragon spawn that will bring me trouble!"
He took a deep breath, but the rage did not fade.
"What the Mad King did to your brother Brandon was shameful. The death of your father was shameful. And Rhaegar… that damned bastard! How many times do you think he raped my Lyanna? She was meant to be my wife, my queen!"
He pointed a trembling finger at Ned.
"I will kill them all. All the Targaryens. I will give them a death worthy of dragons… and then I will piss on their graves."
Petyr Baelish, with his eternal calm smile, interjected:
"As long as the Dothraki remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea, what is there to fear? Even with millions of riders."
Ned nodded.
"They have no ships. And they fear the sea."
Robert leaned back on the throne, feigning indifference.
"And that Aegon? Has he said anything else?"
Varys inclined his head.
"He claims to have more supporters in the Seven Kingdoms. Aside from the Martells… he mentions the Tyrells."
Ned pondered.
"Perhaps he is trying to sow discord."
Robert grunted.
"Or perhaps he has already made contact with them. There are still those who call me usurper. Have you forgotten how many houses fought for the dragons?"
He clenched his teeth.
"Now they hide. But when they smell blood, they will try to kill me… and my children."
Ned held his gaze, firm as the North.
"If they dare, we will fight together. And we will defeat them."
But deep within the chamber, even as Ned's words echoed, no one could deny the silent truth:
The dragons, real or false, were awakening.
And chaos had already begun.