The cold, suffocating sensation came before consciousness fully awakened.
Aemond Targaryen opened his eyes and found himself lying prone on cold, damp stone ground.
Dull pain pulsed across his forehead, and a faint metallic scent of blood filled his nostrils.
Memories that did not belong to his original self stabbed into his mind like ice spikes.
Not long ago…
He had been riding Vhagar amid raging wind and rain…
"Aemond! You thief! Coward!"
"What right does a thief like you have to call us bastards?"
The childish yet rage-filled shouts dragged him back to reality.
Aemond pushed himself up, a seized wooden sword clenched in his hand, and looked at the three boys and two girls standing before him.
At the front was a brown-haired, brown-eyed boy with handsome features, now twisted by anger—Jacaerys Velaryon.
Behind him were his younger brother Lucerys, and the even younger Joffrey, all three pairs of eyes glaring at him.
They bore injuries on their faces as well, clearly having just gone through a chaotic brawl.
There were also two girls with white hair and purple eyes—Rhaena and Baela. They were the children of Prince Daemon Targaryen.
And Aemond was the second son of King Viserys I and Queen Alicent Hightower.
Everyone was soaked to the bone, covered in mud.
The signs clearly showed that what had just happened was a five-against-one assault.
Five people beating him alone.
At this moment, the scratches on Aemond's left cheek from fingernails burned with a stinging pain.
Aemond clenched the seized wooden sword tightly in his hand.
"Say something! You shameless bastard!" Lucerys stepped forward, his fists clenched.
"You thief!"
"You stole something that belongs to us Velaryons!"
"That was the dragon of Rhaena and Baela's mother!"
"Vhagar does not belong to you!"
The transmigrator's awareness collided violently with the original body's memories.
Aemond understood in an instant—this was the dragon lair on Driftmark.
As for what had just happened?
The original body had mounted Vhagar, the oldest living giant dragon of House Targaryen, and soared through the storm.
No—there was more than that.
He knew what would happen next: a fight, an accident, one eye.
Then the seeds of hatred would be planted here, eventually growing into a poisonous tree that would destroy the entire kingdom…
In this part of the story, he lost an eye.
But now?
"I didn't steal," Aemond said hoarsely and calmly, with a coldness that did not belong to a twelve-year-old. "The dragon chose me."
"Vhagar chose me."
"And besides, dragons have never belonged to the Velaryons."
"Dragons belong only to the Targaryens."
"Don't forget—it was the Targaryens who granted you the right to ride dragons."
"And as for just now, when I called you bastards…"
"As your uncle, I apologize."
The children froze for a moment.
Aemond's sudden rebuttal—and his apology—left them unsure how to respond.
Jacaerys was the first to recover:
"Sophistry!"
"Thief!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"It was King Viserys who granted Rhaena and Baela the priority right to ride their mother's legacy dragon!"
Those words left Aemond momentarily at a loss.
It was true—the king had granted them priority.
And he had ridden the giant dragon without permission. Once a dragon acknowledged a rider, it would not accept another unless the original rider died.
But that was something the original body had done—what did it have to do with him now?
Seeing him unable to respond, a look of triumph appeared on the children's faces.
At the side, Lucerys pressed the advantage and said, "You're just like your whore of a mother—both shameless thieves!"
"Trying to steal the throne, steal dragons, steal everything that should have belonged to my mother!"
That sentence completely ignited something deeper within Aemond.
This emotion did not belong to the transmigrator, but to the original body's years of accumulated humiliation, anger, and loneliness.
Since childhood, Aemond had been mocked by his brother Aegon together with these three boys, told that he was only fit to ride pigs, and called a freak.
And now, they were openly insulting the person the original body loved most—Queen Alicent.
The lingering sense of humiliation erupted like a volcano. No matter how calm he tried to be, he could no longer suppress it.
It was a dangerous, reason-shattering fury.
Aemond could feel the blood in his body boiling.
"You bastard." Aemond slowly straightened his body. He stood half a head taller than Lucerys, his soaked silver hair plastered to his cheeks, violet eyes locked onto the other party, the killing intent in them completely undisguised.
"Say that again if you dare."
Lucerys was intimidated by Aemond's presence, but upon being called a bastard, the boy's hot blood instantly rushed to his head. "I said, you and your—"
Before the words could finish, Aemond moved.
Although Lucerys had prepared himself, it was useless.
Aemond twisted his body to evade Lucerys's punch, then drove a heavy elbow into his ribs.
Lucerys let out a muffled groan and doubled over.
Seeing his brother struck, the eldest, Jacaerys, roared and lunged forward.
But Aemond seized Lucerys by the shoulder and violently shoved him toward Jacaerys.
The two boys crashed into each other and staggered backward.
Rhaena, Baela, and Joffrey picked up stones from the floor of the dragon lair and hurled them fiercely at Aemond.
Aemond failed to dodge several of them and was struck more than once.
But he did not press the attack. What remained of his rationality told him that he could not continue fighting.
If it went on, with the temperaments of these children, blood would definitely be drawn.
Just like in the original story—he would lose an eye.
He did not want to cause trouble, but he would not allow himself to be trampled either.
"You actually dare!!" Lucerys lay on the ground, gasping, his eyes red with fury.
And Jacaerys, as the elder brother, seeing the second brother lose control, could only charge in as well.
They rushed at him again, this time even more viciously. The three tangled together, crashing into the bronze candelabrum by the wall of the dragon lair.
The candelabrum toppled with a loud clang, firelight swaying and casting enormous, twisted, entangled shadows across the stone walls.
And when Rhaena and Baela, the two young girls, realized the situation was spiraling out of control, they let out sharp, piercing screams, trying to draw the attention of the guards at Driftmark.
Seeing his two older brothers tangled with Aemond, Joffrey also tried to rush forward to help.
In the midst of the struggle, Aemond unconsciously kicked Joffrey away.
Joffrey tumbled to the ground and burst into loud, wailing cries.
"You damned bastard!" Lucerys was furious beyond restraint as he watched his youngest brother kicked away and crying.
Jacaerys's eyes reddened as well.
A surge of helpless fury rose in Aemond's heart.
He had never wanted this—why did they have to force him!
Fists, fingernails, knees… children who had lost all reason caused the fight to escalate rapidly into a life-and-death struggle.
Aemond felt a punch slam into his cheekbone, a dull ringing filling his ears.
But he also seized Lucerys by the hair and smashed his head violently into the ground.
Once.
Twice.
Lucerys's head was bleeding profusely.
"You mongrel dog! Let go of my brother!" Jacaerys crashed into him from the side.
Aemond was knocked aside, his back slamming into the stone wall with a wave of blunt pain.
His vision darkened.
Amid the chaos, Aemond caught a glimpse of something extra in Lucerys's hand…
It was a dagger inlaid with obsidian and pearl.
Sharp enough to easily cut through flesh, cartilage, and even… eyes.
Lucerys had already scrambled back to his feet, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth as he charged at him once more.
On that childish face, nothing remained but pure hatred…