A Crown for Aegon (ChatGPT)

[King's Landing Common Room, 278 AC. The spacious chamber is alive with activity as the royal family gathers around a large oak table strewn with wedding plans, dragon reports, and half-empty wine goblets. King Aegon VI lounges in his chair, bouncing a giggling Prince Viserys on his knee while Queen Rhaella reviews ledgers. Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia sit close together, whispering, while Prince Daeron argues quietly with Princess Cersei over seating charts. Prince Daemon entertains Ashara Dayne with exaggerated swordplay using a bread knife, and Princess Alyssa watches Stannis Baratheon with amusement as he scowls at the chaos.]

PRINCE DAEMON: (grinning as he flourishes the bread knife) And this, my lady, is how I'll defend your honor at our wedding feast! Unless the roast boar proves particularly feisty.

ASHARA DAYNE: (laughing) I feel safer already. Though perhaps we should stick to traditional tourneys.

PRINCESS ALYSSA: (leaning toward Stannis) Look at him. That's the man who'll be my brother by marriage. Gods help us.

STANNIS BARATHEON: (flatly) The gods help those who help themselves. Currently, I'm helping myself to more wine.

[King Aegon chuckles as Viserys grabs for his beard, while Queen Rhaella sets down her quill with a sigh.]

QUEEN RHAELLA: (to the room) Has anyone seen the latest report from the Dragonkeepers? Haegon was supposed to send word about Tiamat's eggs.

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (perking up) Ah! Yes, Elia and I just came from the pit. The eggs are... well...

PRINCESS ELIA: (smiling) They're beautiful. Glowing like jewels in the embers. But Tiamat won't let anyone near them yet. She nearly singed poor Haegon's robes when he tried to check their temperature.

PRINCESS CERSEI: (without looking up from her scrolls) Typical. Even dragons have more sense than most men about protecting their young.

PRINCE DAERON: (pinching the bridge of his nose) Must you turn everything into a commentary?

KING AEGON VI: (grinning) Now, now. Let's not start a domestic squabble when we've got five perfectly good dragon eggs waiting to be squabbled over instead.

[The door bursts open as Dragonkeeper Haegon stumbles in, his face flushed with excitement.]

HAEGON: (bowing hastily) Your Graces! My princes, my ladies! Tiamat has finally allowed us near the clutch! The eggs can be moved!

[The room erupts in excitement. Viserys claps his tiny hands at the sudden noise.]

QUEEN RHAELLA: (standing) All five? She's not being protective anymore?

HAEGON: (nodding vigorously) Oh, she's still protective, Your Grace. But she'll permit the eggs to be taken to their new riders—under heavy guard, of course.

PRINCE DAEMON: (grinning) Finally! I've been waiting years for this. (pointing to Alyssa) Don't even think about stealing the red one, sister.

PRINCESS ALYSSA: (smirking) Please. I want the bronze one. It matches Stannis' personality—dull but sturdy.

[Stannis glowers as the others laugh. Cersei immediately moves to examine a color-coded chart.]

PRINCESS CERSEI: (authoritative) The gold egg will go to Daeron's line, obviously. The emerald to Rhaegar's, the silver—

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (interrupting gently) The dragons will choose their riders, cousin. Not the other way around.

PRINCESS ELIA: (placing a hand on her belly) And who knows? Perhaps some eggs will wait for the next generation.

[An excited murmur runs through the room at the implication. Aegon bounces Viserys higher, making the toddler squeal with delight.]

KING AEGON VI: Well then! Shall we go meet our future dragons? (glancing at the still-unhatched original egg in the corner) Though someone should probably bring that one too. Wouldn't want it to feel left out.

QUEEN RHAELLA: (dryly) Yes, let's not hurt the rock's feelings.

[As the family prepares to leave, the unhatched egg gives a faint pulse of warmth—almost as if offended. The sound of dragons roaring in the distance seems to shake the very stones of the Red Keep, heralding a new era of fire and blood for House Targaryen.]

[King's Landing Dragonpit, 278 AC. The vast cavern echoes with the sounds of shuffling feet and dragonkeepers' hushed instructions as the five newly-laid dragon eggs are carefully transported from Tiamat's nest to the royal family. Fenrir watches from above, his massive golden form coiled around a pillar, while Tiamat's glowing eyes follow every movement near her precious clutch. King Aegon VI stands with Queen Rhaella, their children and spouses gathered around as the eggs are placed on velvet cushions before them.]

DRAGONKEEPER HAEGON: (nervously adjusting his gloves) The emerald egg for Prince Rhaegar, the gold for Prince Daeron, the silver for Prince Daemon, the bronze for Princess Alyssa, and the ruby-speckled one for Prince Viserys. As ordered, Your Grace.

PRINCESS CERSEI: (immediately) Why does Rhaegar get the emerald? The gold clearly should go to the heir's line—

PRINCE DAERON: (sighing) Not this again.

KING AEGON VI: (clapping hands) Enough! We're using the old traditions—each egg goes to its rider's cradle, or in this case, bedside. No arguments about colors. (picks up the speckled red egg) Besides, this one's clearly got Lannister colors. It's practically winking at you, Cersei.

[The egg does indeed shimmer with crimson flecks as he hands it to Daeron. Cersei looks momentarily appeased.]

PRINCE DAEMON: (grinning as he takes the silver egg) Perfect! This'll look splendid next to my bed. Though if it hatches in the night, I can't promise I won't scream like a maiden at her first tourney.

PRINCESS ALYSSA: (rolling her eyes as she accepts the bronze egg) You always do anyway. Stannis, be a dear and carry this for me? It clashes with my dress.

STANNIS BARATHEON: (taking it stiffly) It's a dragon egg, not a fashion accessory.

PRINCE RHAEGAR: (cradling the emerald egg reverently) The old ways... just like the Conqueror and his sisters. Elia, can you imagine our children—

PRINCESS ELIA: (placing a hand on his arm, smiling) One miracle at a time, my love.

[Queen Rhaella kneels to help toddler Viserys "hold" his ruby-speckled egg, the child giggling as the warm shell pulses faintly under his tiny palms.]

QUEEN RHAELLA: (murmuring) There you go, my little dragon. Yours to watch over now.

KING AEGON VI: (addressing them all) Remember—these may take years to hatch. Or decades. Or never. (glances at the original unhatched egg being carried by a servant) Some eggs are just... decorative.

PRINCE DAERON: (practical as ever) We'll need temperature-controlled chambers. Daily rotations of guards. Logbooks to track any changes—

PRINCESS CERSEI: (smugly) Which I will of course oversee.

PRINCE DAEMON: (fake gasping) Seven hells! I think my egg just cracked from sheer boredom listening to you two.

[Tiamat suddenly rumbles, causing everyone to freeze. The great dragon stretches her neck toward Viserys, sniffing at his egg before letting out a soft chuff that ruffles the toddler's silver hair.]

QUEEN RHAELLA: (softly) Well. That's a good sign.

KING AEGON VI: (grinning) Either that or she's tasting him for later. (claps hands) Right! Everyone to your chambers—let's get these eggs settled in. And try not to burn down the Red Keep if they decide to hatch tonight!

[As the family disperses, each cradling their destined egg, the original unhatched one gives a final, almost petulant pulse of warmth in its keeper's arms—still waiting, still watching, as the Targaryen dragonsong begins anew.]

[King's Landing Palace Courtyard, 278 AC. The evening sun casts long shadows across the manicured gardens as King Aegon VI and Queen Rhaella sit on a marble bench, watching their children disperse through the palace arches - each cradling their newly assigned dragon eggs. Little Prince Viserys sits between them, curiously patting both the old unhatched egg and his new ruby-speckled one. The air smells of lemon blossoms and distant dragon musk.]

AEGON VI: (chuckling as Daemon nearly trips carrying his silver egg) You'd think we were distributing live scorpions the way they're handling those eggs.

RHAELLA: (adjusting Viserys' grip on his egg) Careful, sweetling. That's not a ball to throw. (to Aegon) Remember how nervous we were when Fenrir and Tiamat hatched? Now we've got five more potential fire hazards to worry about.

[Viserys babbles happily, knocking the two eggs together like drums. The older egg gives a faint grumble of warmth in protest.]

AEGON VI: (rescuing the eggs) Easy there, dragonlord. We don't need you starting a family feud between eggs. (studying them) Funny... this old one's been cold for years, but put it next to the new one and it's practically purring.

RHAELLA: (raising an eyebrow) You're imagining things. That egg's as likely to hatch as Stannis Baratheon is to start composing love poetry.

[The old egg pulses slightly warmer at her words, making them both blink.]

AEGON VI: (grinning) See? Even the egg wants to prove you wrong. (leaning closer to it) Don't worry, old friend. Your time will come. Maybe when this little terror starts walking properly. (ruffles Viserys' hair)

RHAELLA: (smiling wistfully) Do you really think they'll hatch? All of them?

AEGON VI: (watching Daeron and Cersei argue over egg placement in the distance) Oh, they'll hatch. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year... but when the realm needs them most. (grins) Though I pity the maesters when five teenage dragons start chewing on the furniture.

[Viserys suddenly grabs both eggs and smashes them together with a loud clack. For half a heartbeat, both eggs glow - the old one with sudden golden veins, the new one pulsing red - before returning to normal.]

RHAELLA: (gasping) Did you see—?

AEGON VI: (laughing nervously) Our son either just awakened ancient magic or invented a new way to give his parents heart failure. (prying the eggs apart) Let's... not do that again, yes?

[Above them, Fenrir's shadow passes over the courtyard as the dragon circles lower, his golden eyes fixed curiously on the eggs in Viserys' lap. The old egg gives one last, almost defiant pulse of warmth before settling into its usual dormant state - but something has changed. The game is afoot.]

[King's Landing Small Council Chamber, 278 AC. The council table gleams under the afternoon light as King Aegon VI surveys his advisors. Queen Rhaella shuffles financial scrolls with one hand while absently rocking Prince Viserys' cradle with the other. Tywin Lannister's golden hand pin glints as he organizes reports with military precision. Steffon Baratheon chuckles at some private joke while Jon Arryn rubs his temples. Gwyneth Hightower's armor creaks as she leans forward, and Varys materializes from the shadows with his usual eerie timing.]

AEGON VI: (clapping hands) Alright, let's begin with— (notices Viserys chewing on a ledger) Rhaella, love, our heir apparent is eating next year's crop yields.

RHAELLA: (plucking parchment from Viserys' mouth) That's what he gets for putting the treasury reports at toddler height. (wipes drool from the parchment) Though his appetite for economics is impressive.

TYWIN: (dryly) If he's this destructive with ledgers, I dread his handling of actual dragons.

STEFFON: (laughing) Spoken like a true grandfather! Wait until he starts teething on Lannister gold.

[Tywin's glare could freeze wildfire. Aegon quickly steers the conversation.]

AEGON VI: Right! First order—wedding reports. Rhaegar and Elia's ceremony went smoothly, yes?

JON ARRYN: (nodding) Surprisingly so, considering Oberyn Martell challenged three knights to duels before the first course.

GWYNETH: (deadpan) He lost to the Redwyne twins. I believe the exact quote was "I yield—but only because you fight like drunken pirates."

VARYS: (smiling) Whereas Prince Daeron and Lady Cersei's Summerhall celebration was... intense. (delicate pause) The servants are still finding golden rose petals in unlikely places.

PYRCELLE: (muttering) Including the soup tureens.

RHAELLA: (ignoring this) Financially, both weddings came in under budget. Though we may need to increase next year's allocation for—

TYWIN: (cutting in) —Daemon and Ashara's Dornish spectacle, followed by Alyssa and Stannis'... whatever passes for merriment in Storm's End. (pushes forward a scroll) I've prepared contingency plans for both.

STEFFON: (leaning over) Seven hells, Tywin, this lists "potential assassination attempts by region." Since when do we plan weddings like military campaigns?

TYWIN: (coolly) Since House Targaryen started distributing dragon eggs like name-day presents.

[A beat of uncomfortable silence. The cradle rocks violently as Viserys gurgles.]

AEGON VI: (changing subject) Speaking of eggs—any changes with the new clutch?

PYRCELLE: (consulting notes) All five remain dormant, though the gold egg in Prince Daeron's chambers has developed... interesting heat fluctuations whenever Princess Cersei argues with the maids.

VARYS: (innocently) How curious. Almost as if it responds to strong personalities.

RHAELLA: (ignoring this too) And the original unhatched egg?

GWYNETH: (shrugging) Still sulking in Prince Viserys' nursery. Though yesterday it rolled itself onto my foot when I wasn't looking. Pretty sure it's sentient.

AEGON VI: (grinning) That's my boy's egg! Already causing trouble. (serious again) Now—any issues with the dragons themselves?

JON ARRYN: Fenrir burned another hunting party's provisions, but only after they shot near his favorite napping tree. Tiamat remains... moody.

STEFFON: (chuckling) New mother protecting her clutch. Give her time. Though Robert's been pestering me about "borrowing" a dragon for hunting—

COUNCIL: (in unison) NO.

[Viserys chooses this moment to let out an impressive wail. Rhaella sighs, standing with the cradle.]

RHAELLA: And that's my cue. Unless anyone objects to the Master of Coin nursing the future of the realm?

TYWIN: (without looking up) Just ensure he doesn't teethe on the crown jewels. The last accounting was difficult enough.

[As Rhaella exits, Aegon watches her go fondly before turning back to the council.]

AEGON VI: Right. Next item—how to explain to Dorne that we're not actually planning to invade them if Ashara's egg hatches first?

[The chamber erupts in groans as the afternoon shadows lengthen across the detailed wedding plans, dragon reports, and one abandoned toddler sock—proof that even the highest councils of power are no match for a determined prince.]