Halfhand's Legacy: A Dance of Dragons - A Self-Insert Tale

I came in and out of consciousness over an extended period, I could not ascertain how long I was gone but it must have been a great deal of time. Sometimes I saw Helaena's worried face looking over me being the only lucid thought I had ever had in what seemed like forever, but for the most part, I was swimming in morphine. It was a sweet thing to enjoy no wonder people got addicted to this substance, they called it the milk of the poppy and with the way things were going, I was soon to be an addict if I didn't wake up from this daze.

Any attempts to awaken always resulted in being pulled further down in the spectrum of nothingness that sometimes morphed into the Bifrost. I could feel my head spinning but I could not feel my fingers or anything else in my body. Why wasn't I dead? Am I in a coma, are the Maesters keeping me alive even though I am better off dead rather than alive?

I thought back to my last coherent memory, Daemon was about to kill me as he killed Aemond in OTL but then he was bathed in flames from behind. It was Helaena, I am certain of it and then things became hazy as Sunfyre tried to break free but was unable to fly away, he covered me as we fell but the last thing I saw was Criston desperately riding his way to me before I closed my eyes.

Where was Sunfyre? My golden boy, was he dead? What about my children? Was my mother taking care of them? Is Aemond alright, he is supposed to be in the Riverlands, what if an archer took him out? There was no Vhagar to protect him and my fool of a brother was more likely to storm castles at the risk of his own life rather than patiently wait them out. Daeron was dead, why haven't I joined him yet?

Had Helaena and Dreamfyre not intervened when they did, I would have most certainly died, if not from Dark Sister then from Caraxes' flames that had already licked me. A fireball from the Blood Wyrm did catch me during the last moments of the battle, it ran down my already unlucky right side. It sent agony from my leg to my head, an unrelenting agony that just kept burning even as my body lost consciousness, it was only until I received the milk of the poppy into my system that I finally stopped feeling anything.

'Let me die, just let me die.' I begged whatever diety kept me alive but I was denied. I was not alive but neither was I dead. I was in between worlds, it was like no one wanted me. How long has it been? A few weeks, a month, a year. I gave up resisting, I gave up trying to break free and I began to sink, the white background of the milk of the poppy was transformed into the black and starry universe. What was happening? Was this finally the end?

Turns out it wasn't the end.

For the first time, I had a visitor. A man stood before me as I floated in space, he wore all black cloaks and furs over black plate and mail. A crow sat on his shoulder and he held a white longbow in his hand. The man's complexion was a pale white ashen like an albino and his one eye was red, the other eye was gouged out like Aemond's. His bone-white beard and hair did well to cover up a red splotchy mark on his face. I knew who this man was.

"Aegon, son of Viserys, I have been expecting you for some time now," He said to me, his tone was formal but belaying a curious one.

"Bloodraven, son of a bitch," I spoke for what could be the first time in ages.

"You know of me," Bloodraven said with a curious look in his red eye.

"Yes, I know of you, you Blackwood bastard, where the fuck am I? Why am I not dead?" I grumbled as I wondered if I could kill him.

"We are in the land between life and death. I have many questions for you, starting with Who are you?" Bloodraven asked after answering my first question. He wasn't threatening or anything, just merely curious.

"I am Aegon II, just not the one you think," I answered, "The old Aegon was supposed to be another version of your illustrious father, but I am not him, yet I am him. I am more like the Daeron the Drunken of your time but without the whores part."

"So, you know of my father and about the dreamer from my time." Bloodraven said with a satisfied look, "That explains nearly everything. You knew everything that was to come. Are you from the future from my old time?"

"Something like that and something not like that," I answered cryptically. He was quick to deduct that I am not the real Aegon II. He was, after all, the sorcerous spymaster who ruled over the realm for more than two decades.

"Doesn't matter, I suppose you have made a new future which is wildly different from my time," He remarked. I wonder if he is upset but he doesn't seem to convey anything as far as his tone is concerned.

"Are you upset that I have ruined all your years of careful planning and manipulation?" I asked him outright. "After all, has this thrown a wrench in your works of forging the Prince who was Promised and what not."

He shook his head, "What happens before my time is not something that I can control, merely watch. Tell me, do you think what you have done changes anything other than perhaps save the dragons, for which I must commend you, your actions have changed everything and yet nothing. "

"I don't understand," I asked perplexed.

He sighs before saying, "Some things are etched in the fabric of time, they will happen regardless of what actions we mortals make. Then there are some actions that we decide based on our choices. The best example of things that will happen regardless of your actions is your condition." He said pointing to me and for the first time I looked down to see myself.

I wore the same clothes as I did when I flew off to battle Daemon but I could see that my right hand was burnt and scarred. The right side of my body was burnt, even my right leg was burnt as was the right side of my face. I couldn't feel any of the pain but I could feel them start to scab and heal.

"You have suffered the same injuries that you would have received at Rook's Rest in another world," He revealed. "Perhaps slightly better or slightly worse but in the end, all the same." That is just wonderful. No matter what, I was bound to suffer injuries by dragon fire.

He continued, "Yet you have changed things to the point that the future no longer looks the same. You have saved your children from Blood and Cheese, you have expanded the Royal power far more than what anyone before you or since will ever do. Most importantly, you have saved the dragons."

"So what about the whole Prince who was Promised thing?" I asked bemusedly.

Bloodraven shrugged, "It will go on regardless, the path of fate is ever in flux. No matter what I or you do, it changes to its whims. As for our family, it will be the same and yet different. There will be another Unworthy, another Good, another Breakspear, another Blackfyre, another Brightflame, another Unlikely, another Mad King. For better or for worse who knows what their impact will be upon the realm and our family. The prophecy of Aegon the Conqueror will come to pass regardless."

"Why can't I just fucking die?" I whined as I wanted to drown myself. No matter what I did, things might just be the same or perhaps worse now that the Mad King might have a dragon. Just great, this was just great.

"Oh, no you cannot die." Bloodraven laughed like it was some joke, "You have to fix the realm. You started this war now you have to end it and rebuild the realm. You don't have the luxury to die. You have to rebuild your realm which at this point should take a generation of work."

"Oh fuck," I muttered, this was much worse than dying.

"Before you complain, who else can rebuild the realm other than you? Aemond is too hotheaded to reconcile a realm ravaged by war. Helaena does not have the fortitude to lead a broken realm, she may rise to the challenge but that is yet to be seen. Then there is your Grandfather Otto, whose head is bigger than it should be. Even now as we speak, he is plotting to regain his lost power, he has managed to convince your mother to let him back on the Small Council. No one is there to stop him since you, your brother, Tyland Lannister, and Criston Cole are no longer in the city."

I felt a headache coming in, this was supposed to be the dream world. Why am I getting a headache from Otto? This was supposed to be the one place where I shouldn't get headaches. Fuck Otto for ruining this.

"How is the war going?" I quietly ask. I need a change of topic. The bright stars around us were twinkling in peace.

"Well enough for you, the West has been liberated, the Shield Islands and Fair Isle retaken. The strength of the Ironborn is now broken for good. The Twins, Riverrun, Seagard, and Raventree Hall are the last remaining Black holdouts in the Riverlands. The rest have fallen. Your brother is about to start an assault on Riverrun that could easily result in huge casualties if you don't stop him. As for Old Oak, most of the Blacks are dead. After you fell into a coma, Helaena turned her grief into fury and took it out on the castle with Dreamfyre. Nearly all were killed except for a few who hid in the cellars like the Tully boys and little lord Blackwood who have surrendered and have been spared the headsman's block on account of their age."

Huh, the Muppets lived, except for their father I assume. Also, I had no idea that Hel was ever capable of fury.

"And Sunfyre?" I hesitantly asked.

Bloodraven nodded, "He is alive alright, his wing bones have survived so his wing membranes will regrow. His bleeding has stopped and he recovering well. Though I would suggest not engaging in much fighting for the time being and when I say time being I mean a long time. The poor dragon has suffered enough."

"Yeah, that tracks." I nodded. My poor dragon has suffered enough fighting for me.

"All I have to ask of you is this, keep the Starks alive. Strip them of their might but keep them alive for they are needed for the coming winter. Fire cannot exist alone without ice and the same goes the other way for balance must be maintained." He requested.

'Any requests about your Blackwood kin," I asked after hearing his plea to save the Starks.

"I do not know if they are my kin anymore. Maybe I will not be born and someone else will take my place. Who knows?" Bloodraven shrugged before he asked me, "Do you know what makes a great king?"

"Terrible men make great kings, I hear," I snarked.

"Yes, there have been terrible men who have made great kings while great men have made terrible kings but that isn't what I meant. I meant to ask, what makes a king great?"

I thought for a moment before I said, "Their actions regarding their kingdom and its people. Whether it is a legacy of blood or peace."

"Yes," Bloodraven nodded, "Some men are hailed great for being conquerors yet all most of them have done is drain their kingdoms of gold and blood. Glyes III Gardener, Daeron the Young Dragon, and even Aegon the Conqueror before he finally realised the futility of a needless war with Dorne."

Bloodraven continued his little speech, "It is the Kings who give their people a time of peace, plenty and justice who are truly great. Generations of boys were born, grew to manhood, and sired children of their own and died without ever having to know what it was to grasp a spear and shield and march away to war. Kings such as Garth Goldenhand and your great-grandfather Jaehaerys. Your father for all his faults did indeed manage to keep up the legacy of peace he inherited though he failed to ensure its peaceful passing to his children. It is peace of the realm that truly makes the measure of a king, not the success or failures of his wars. I hope you remember that. You have dragons, use them wisely."

I realized what he meant by the last point, nukes are best used as a deterrent and a last-choice weapon not as a spear tip as I have been using it.

"How long have I been in this in between?" I then asked as I felt the scabbing skin on my arm.

"It has been a month since your great battle against Daemon. The old Aegon was as you said another version of my father but you are not that has saved your life. You loved your wife and she loves you in return. She saved you from Daemon and now she found a woods witch to heal you after the efforts of the Maester brought no difference. For a week the Maester of Highgarden didn't do much other than place honeyed linen bandages on your burns and feed you the milk of the poppy. It was the woods witch whose life was saved by Helaena when she destroyed the Ironborn, who gratefully came forth to your Queen to help heal your wounds. She used herbs and other natural remedies to make a paste and applied it on your burns and the healing has shown. All that is left is for your fever to break and for you to awaken from your poppy dreams."

"And how will I do that?" I asked as I thought about how lucky I was to have Helaena. I didn't deserve her.

"It will happen in its own time, that is not something that I can help in," Bloodraven answered as he began to fade away, "I will see you again one day, Aegon. I wish you good fortune in the peace to come."

Bloodraven faded away and I was left alone, floating in space. The universe was looking back at me as I wondered how the fuck was I to escape this realm.

Then began another spiralling moment as I found myself going down into a black hole, I didn't resist as I went straight down through a cacophony of sounds before entering a place that I had named the Bifrost for it looked exactly like the Bifrost in the Thor movies. I could do nothing as I was dragged along the path straight into the Sun. I closed my eyes as I came near to the Sun, I couldn't feel the heat from the Sun as I entered.

My eyes slowly opened as I regained consciousness on a soft feather bed. Warm evening sunlight fell upon me from the window. I looked around to see that this opulent chamber was not the Red Keep, but most likely Highgarden. My still-healing wounds made their presence known by making my body itch all over as I struggled not to scratch myself. I was covered in linen bandages like a leprosy patient. I could feel my face covered in bandages as well with slits for my eyes.

I turned my head to see Helaena quietly singing as she was sewing something on the chair next to me, my throat felt as coarse as sandpaper but I croaked out, "Hel."