Chapter 19:

[King's Landing Palace Courtyard, 277 AC. A warm breeze carries the scent of blooming roses through the courtyard as King Aegon VI and Queen Rhaella sit beneath the shade of a weirwood tree. Rhaella cradles one-month-old Prince Viserys against her chest while Aegon absentmindedly strokes the unhatched dragon egg resting on a velvet cushion beside them. The distant roars of Fenrir and Tiamat echo from the newly completed Dragonpit.]

AEGON VI: (peering at the egg) Still as cold as the Wall. I was certain Viserys would be the one.

RHAELLA: (adjusting the sleeping babe) Perhaps the gods decided four dragonriders in one family would be greedy. (smirks) Though knowing our luck, it'll hatch for Daeron and Cersei's next child just to spite us.

AEGON VI: (groaning) Don't even jest. Tywin would commission a golden cradle before the babe drew its first breath.

[Viserys stirs, tiny fists waving as if arguing with the suggestion. Rhaella rocks him gently while Aegon leans over to brush a finger against the infant's silver-gold hair.]

RHAELLA: (musing) Do you think it's better this way? The egg waiting for a grandchild instead? Spreads the dragons among the next generation.

AEGON VI: (grinning) Spoken like a true accountant. Even our mythical beasts must be properly diversified.

RHAELLA: (playfully swatting his arm) I'm serious! Imagine if all our children had hatched dragons - we'd need to rebuild the Dragonpit twice over.

AEGON VI: (counting on fingers) Let's see... Rhaegar with Elia's babe, Daeron and Cersei's brood, Daemon and Ashara's little one... (pauses) Seven hells, we might need that second Dragonpit anyway.

[A servant approaches with chilled lemon water, eyeing the dragon egg warily as she sets down the tray. Rhaella thanks her while Aegon takes a long drink.]

AEGON VI: (wiping his mouth) Speaking of our ever-growing dynasty - the first wedding contracts arrived from Sunspear this morning. Prince Doran suggests holding Rhaegar and Elia's ceremony during the next full moon.

RHAELLA: (groaning) Which gives us precisely... (counting silently) eight weeks to prepare four royal weddings, oversee a newborn prince, and prevent Oberyn from dueling Tywin over floral arrangements.

AEGON VI: (deadpan) I'll have the maesters prepare my funeral pyre now. Save time.

[Viserys chooses this moment to let out an impressive wail, as if protesting their lack of faith. Rhaella bounces him gently while shooting Aegon an amused look.]

RHAELLA: See? Even he knows you're being dramatic. (to the babe) Isn't your father silly, my little dragon?

AEGON VI: (leaning in to whisper to the egg) If you hatch right now, I'll name a city after you. No? Fine. Be stubborn.

[The egg remains unmoved. In the distance, a harried-looking steward approaches, clutching a mountain of scrolls.]

STEWARD: (nervously) Your Graces, apologies, but the Master of Laws requires signatures on the wedding security protocols, the Master of Coin needs approval for the Dornish feast budget, and Prince Daemon has somehow acquired a spear and is "practicing" in the throne room...

AEGON VI: (standing abruptly) That's it. We're abdicating. (points to Viserys) You're king now, son. Good luck.

RHAELLA: (laughing as she rises) Oh no you don't. (handing him the baby) If I have to survive four weddings and a newborn, you're suffering with me.

[As they walk back toward the palace - Aegon awkwardly cradling Viserys while Rhaella carries the dragon egg - the unhatched stone gives a faint, almost imperceptible pulse of warmth. Neither notices. High above, two dragons circle in the evening sky, their shadows stretching across a kingdom preparing for celebrations, new life, and the quiet promise of fire yet to come.]

[King's Landing Palace Common Room, 277 AC. Parchments and scrolls cover the large oak table as King Aegon VI and Lord Tywin Lannister pour over wedding schedules. Sunlight streams through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the detailed itineraries for Rhaegar-Elia, Daeron-Cersei, Daemon-Ashara, and Alyssa-Stannis' upcoming nuptials. Tywin's golden hand pin glints as he moves a marker on the calendar.]

TYWIN: (tapping the schedule) The Dornish wedding must conclude before the Lannister celebrations begin. We cannot have Oberyn Martell drunk before Cersei's ceremony even starts.

AEGON VI: (rubbing temples) Why do I feel like we're planning a military campaign rather than weddings?

TYWIN: (deadpan) Because we are. The battlefield just happens to involve floral arrangements and seating charts.

[Tywin pauses, then sets down his quill with rare informality.]

TYWIN: Though before we continue, allow me to offer congratulations on Prince Viserys. A... surprise blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

AEGON VI: (grinning) "Surprise" is one word for it. Rhaella still claims it's the gods punishing me for something.

TYWIN: (almost smiling) Then you must have committed truly legendary offenses.

[Their banter is interrupted as Dragonkeeper Haegon, a grizzled man smelling faintly of smoke, bursts in unannounced. His eyes are wide with excitement.]

HAEGON: (bowing hastily) Your Grace! My Lord Hand! Forgive the intrusion, but—Tiamat and Fenrir—they've—

AEGON VI: (standing so fast his chair scrapes) Spit it out, man! Are they injured?

HAEGON: (beaming) Mated, Your Grace! Properly and thoroughly! My team just witnessed the act in the Dragonpit!

[A beat of stunned silence. Then—]

TYWIN: (dryly) How... romantic.

AEGON VI: (laughing) Seven hells! After five years of them being utterly uninterested?

HAEGON: (nodding vigorously) And here's the greater news—we're near certain Tiamat's with egg. Possibly multiple, given the... enthusiasm displayed.

TYWIN: (raising an eyebrow) Should we be concerned about the structural integrity of the Dragonpit?

AEGON VI: (clapping Haegon on the shoulder) Double the guards on the pit! And send word to Rhaella at once—she'll want to— (pauses, realizing) Oh gods. More dragons. More weddings. And now dragon eggs.

TYWIN: (deadpan) Shall I have the goldsmiths begin work on additional wedding gifts? Perhaps tiny Lannister lion saddles for the hatchlings?

AEGON VI: (pointing at Tywin) Don't you dare give Cersei ideas.

[Haegon shifts awkwardly as the two powerful men continue their verbal sparring, the weight of the moment not lost—dragons breeding again, just as House Targaryen prepares to unite the realm through four strategic marriages. Somewhere in the distance, a triumphant roar echoes through the city, as if Fenrir himself is celebrating.]

HAEGON: (hesitant) Should we... prepare a nursery chamber in the pit, Your Grace?

AEGON VI: (grinning) At this rate, we'll need to build an entire new wing. (to Tywin) Well, my friend? Still think our dynasty was fading?

TYWIN: (sipping wine, hiding a smirk) I suppose this does complicate certain... contingency plans.

[As the Dragonkeeper bows out, already shouting orders to his team, the two rulers return to their wedding charts—though now with considerably more energy. The game of thrones continues, but above them all, dragons take flight once more.]

[King's Landing Palace Nursery, 277 AC. The nursery is bathed in soft candlelight, the air scented with lavender and fresh linen. Queen Rhaella sits in a plush rocking chair, gently cradling a sleeping Prince Viserys against her chest. The last unhatched dragon egg rests on its velvet cushion beside the crib, its stony surface gleaming faintly in the firelight. King Aegon VI enters with uncharacteristic buoyancy, barely containing his excitement as he closes the door quietly behind him.]

AEGON VI: (whispering loudly) Rhaella! You'll never guess what Haegon just told me!

RHAELLA: (glancing up with amused exasperation) If you wake this dragon, you'll be the one rocking him back to sleep.

[Aegon tiptoes dramatically across the room, his royal cloak nearly knocking over a vase of winter roses before he plops onto the footstool beside her.]

AEGON VI: (grinning like a boy) Tiamat and Fenrir finally did it. Properly. Like, wings-flapping, the-whole-pit-shaking—

RHAELLA: (covering Viserys' tiny ears) Aegon! There's an infant present!

AEGON VI: (lowering voice) They mated. After five years of Fenrir being about as romantic as Stannis Baratheon at a feast, our dragons have... well... dragoned.

[Rhaella's eyes widen as the implications dawn on her. She carefully shifts Viserys to her other arm, glancing at the unhatched egg beside the crib.]

RHAELLA: You mean... more eggs?

AEGON VI: (nodding vigorously) Haegon's certain Tiamat's already with clutch! Can you imagine? Our grandchildren might each have dragons!

[The sleeping babe chooses this moment to let out a tiny snore, as if unimpressed by the news. The unhatched egg remains stubbornly inert.]

RHAELLA: (smirking) Well, isn't this ironic. Our dragons reproduce while this one— (gestures to the egg) —still sulks like a brooding teenager.

AEGON VI: (leaning toward the egg) Hear that, you stubborn stone? Your parents are being more productive than you!

RHAELLA: (laughing quietly) Don't taunt it. What if it hatches out of spite while we're sleeping?

[A comfortable silence falls as they both contemplate the future - new dragons, new riders, a dynasty reforged in fire. Outside the window, distant roars echo across King's Landing as the city sleeps unaware of the dragonfire stirring in its heart.]

AEGON VI: (softly) Do you remember when we thought Fenrir and Tiamat might be the last dragons we'd ever see?

RHAELLA: (gazing at Viserys) Now look at us. Up to our eyebrows in weddings, infants, and soon-to-be dragon eggs. (grinning) The gods must be laughing at us.

AEGON VI: (kissing her forehead) Let them laugh. We've got dragons, wine, and each other. That's better than most kings get.

[The last dragon egg gives a faint, almost imperceptible pulse of warmth - whether in agreement or protest, none can say. High above the Red Keep, two dragons circle beneath the moon, their shadows stretching across a city - and a dynasty - forever changed by fire and blood.]

[King's Landing Palace Nursery, 277 AC. The cozy nursery is filled with the soft glow of candlelight as King Aegon VI and Queen Rhaella admire their newborn Prince Viserys. The last unhatched dragon egg rests nearby, seemingly indifferent to the excitement in the air. Suddenly, the door bursts open as their four eldest children pour into the room in a flurry of excitement.]

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (breathless) Father! Mother! The Dragonkeepers just told us about Tiamat and Fenrir!

PRINCESS ALYSSA: (grinning) More dragon eggs! This changes everything!

[Prince Daeron immediately moves to inspect the unhatched egg, while Prince Daemon dramatically flops onto a nearby chaise.]

PRINCE DAERON: (examining the egg) So this stubborn one may not be ours after all. The new clutch could hatch for us instead.

PRINCE DAEMON: (laughing) Finally! I was beginning to think this egg just didn't like us.

QUEEN RHAELLA: (chuckling) Don't be so dramatic, Daemon. Some things take time.

[Prince Viserys stirs in Rhaella's arms, making a tiny disgruntled noise at the sudden commotion.]

KING AEGON VI: (smirking) Careful now, you'll wake the prince. And trust me, you don't want to deal with a sleep-deprived dragonrider-in-training.

PRINCESS ALYSSA: (leaning over to coo at Viserys) Oh, but he's already dreaming of flying, isn't he? Look at those little fists - he's grabbing at the sky!

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (poetically) Perhaps the new eggs will choose him after all. A dragon for the new generation.

PRINCE DAERON: (practical as ever) Or they could hatch for any of us. We'll need to prepare proper housing in the Dragonpit - I'll draft plans immediately.

PRINCE DAEMON: (grinning) I call dibs on the first fiery hatchling! Ashara's been dying to see me ride a dragon.

QUEEN RHAELLA: (raising an eyebrow) "Calling dibs" on dragons now, are we? They choose their riders, dear, not the other way around.

[The unhatched egg gives a faint pulse of warmth, as if agreeing with Rhaella. The princes and princess gather around their baby brother's crib, their excitement palpable.]

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (softly) Just imagine - our family with multiple dragons again. Like in the days of the Conquest.

KING AEGON VI: (putting a hand on Rhaegar's shoulder) Careful what you wish for, son. More dragons means more fire hazards. Last week Fenrir nearly melted the Iron Throne because he didn't like the way a cushion was placed.

[The siblings laugh as Prince Viserys yawns widely, blissfully unaware of the dragon-filled future awaiting him. Outside the window, the distant roars of Tiamat and Fenrir echo through the night - a promise of fire and blood, and a new era for House Targaryen.]