You are Aegon's younger sibling, born small, weak, sickly, and frail. Fate had dealt you a cruel hand, stripping you not only of robust health but also of the birthright that defined your family: a dragon. From the moment you drew your first breath, the Red Keep seemed to close in around you, its stone walls a prison rather than a home. You were sheltered, kept out of sight, and even your own family regarded you as an oddity, an outsider. Whispers and glances followed you wherever you went, and the cruel nickname "the damned" clung to you like a shadow.

One evening, the air in the castle was heavy with tension. Aegon had just returned from the training yard, where Ser Criston Cole had been particularly harsh and Viserys had been watching with disappointment, his frustrations were bubbling over. His steps echoed through the cold corridors of the Red Keep until they led him to a secluded room, where the light from the fireplace flickered dimly.

There you sat, hunched over, with your dragon egg nestled in your lap. You had spent countless hours by that fire, hoping against hope that the warmth might somehow breathe life into the cold, unresponsive shell. It was a ritual born of desperation, an attempt to claim the birthright that had been denied to you.

Aegon stopped in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. The sight of you, so small and fragile, with that lifeless egg in your hands, stirred something dark within him. The anger and disappointment of the day needed an outlet, and unfortunately, you were an easy target.

"Still trying to hatch that useless rock, are you?" Aegon's voice cut through the silence like a blade, dripping with disdain.

You had heard this before, felt the sting of Aegon’s mockery more times than you could count.

"It’s never going to hatch, you know." he continued, stepping closer, his shadow falling over you. "You're wasting your time. Even if it did hatch, what then? You'd be too weak to even ride it."