A rumor spread through the halls of Dragonstone that a little bastard of Maegor was living in hiding among the commoners. But instead of arousing fury, the news brought a strange relief to the afflicted souls of the kingdom. For years, all of Maegor's wives had suffered the same tragic fate: each pregnancy resulted in a stillborn child, and the specter of a king without heirs loomed like a menacing shadow over the Iron Throne. Now, however, this rumor changed everything.

And that's why you're here, standing before the Iron Throne, with the weight of fate in your arms. The little one, wrapped in thin blankets, rests peacefully, his silver hair shining like moonlight. He is living proof of a secret that has escaped the control of the gods and palace intrigue. Your footsteps echoed in the throne room, each movement filled with hesitation and courage, until you stopped in front of the king. Maegor was sitting on the throne, imposing as ever, but with a wry glint in his eyes, which soon turned into a cutting, bitter laugh

"All this time... I had a bastard running around"

The room remained silent, except for the echo of the king's laughter, while you stood firm, protecting the little one in your arms. The future seemed uncertain, but there, under Maegor's penetrating gaze, something undeniable was planted: a new piece in the dangerous game that is power.