{Ding! Caesar has avoided Canon Events}
{The Roman Empire Template Has Awakened!}
{Three Eggs of ????????? Have Been Tributed to the Caesar!}
He froze.
A glowing screen flickered into existence before his eyes, translucent and humming softly with unnatural light. It hovered in the air, pulsing like a heartbeat.
His brow twitched.
He tilted his head. Daenerys was snoring hard on his back, loud and steady, like some useless drunk passed out at a feast. The sound irritated ears, but his attention was already somewhere else.
Something was glowing.
Right in front of him. Floating. Bright, unnatural.
He stared at it for a second before stepping closer. His grip on Daenerys tightened with his right hand, holding her in place. His left hand slowly reached out, His fingers becoming tense .
The glow pulled at him. Not gently. Not like it was asking.
It was dragging him.
As soon as his eyes locked on it, something in him cracked. Not emotionally, physically. He felt it. Like something deep inside his chest gave out. A sharp jolt. It left him breathless for a second.
He didn't understand what it was.
But he wanted it. Badly.
It wasn't just curiosity. It was need. Like a hook had sunk into his gut and was pulling. His thoughts got loud. Messy. Everything else, Daenerys, The thought of massacring barbarians- faded behind it.
He didn't care what it did. Didn't care if it was a illusion.
He needed it in his hands.
Right now.
His situation was like that kid who just saw a new shining toy and was throwing a tanturam "I WANT THAT TOY! AND I WANT IT NOW WAAAA WAAA"
His hand moved toward the screen, slow and uncertain. The glow washed over his skin, casting sharp shadows across his knuckles.
Just before his fingers made contact, something struck him, not physically, but inside his skull. A ringing, deep and rhythmic, like the church bells that used to mark Sundays in war-torn cities.
"There was once a dream… called Rome."
The voice came without warning. Clear and Calm. A woman's voice, high, but cold. It wasn't soft or kind, more like the sound of snow falling on stone. Feminine, yes, but without any warmth in it.
He'd never heard anything like it. Still, he didn't interrupt. He didn't move. He just listened, eyes locked on the flickering screen.
"It was so fragile I feared even a whisper could break it. But it endured. Barely. Holding itself together through will and blood."
A pause.
Then the voice dropped lower, like a warning from something that had seen too much.
"But I'm afraid it won't survive the fire of summer… or the ice of winter."
Silence followed. Not a slow fade, just nothing. Like a door slammed shut.
Then came the flood.
Information poured into him. Not in words or sentences, but in entire systems. Roman Empire Template, Missions, System Points, Glory of Rome, ROMA INVICTA.
His head snapped back slightly from the pressure. His eyes didn't roll nor did his body shake. There was no pain. No heat. Just something pulsing through him, really quickly.
The kind of testosterone that only cultured people obsessed with Rome ever feel was pumping through his veins.
And the knowledge kept coming, As the screen infront of him disappeared.
69 Seconds Later.
The flood of knowledge ceased as abruptly as a slit throat.
Viserys blinked. Above him, the stars glared down, cold and indifferent as a banker counting coins. His breath curled in the air, a pale wisp of smoke, fleeting as a dying man's prayer.
Summer. He almost laughed.
His next exhale came clean. No frost. No ghostly mist. Just the damp, stinking heat of braavos' clinging to his lips.
The night air was thick again, heavy with the scent of salt and horse shit. No trace of winter. No trace of anything unnatural.
But his fingers still trembled. Not from cold, But from the testosterone in his body.
"Template... window," Viserys muttered under his breath, voice dry and uneven. He staggered out of the alley, boots scraping against broken stone floor.
Daenerys drooled against his silk shirt, soaking it through in a dark, spreading patch that clung to his spine. The smell of sweat, piss, and sour wine was heavy in the air as he left the alley.
Then it happened again, the golden shimmer, cold and unnatural. A screen blinked into existence before his eyes, humming softly, like the whisper of a star.
{Roman State Template – Tier 1}
Personal Information
{Caesar's Name: Viserys Targaryen (The Third of His Name)}
{Affiliation: Targaryen Family (Member), Braavos (Citizen)}
{Points: None (Complete missions to acquire points)}
{Main Mission: None (Select a primary objective)}
Template Functions
{Missions}
{Shop}
{Reward Mail (1)}
......
Viserys smirked, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, staring at the golden screen hanging in the air like a floating execution order.
He already knew what it was, the knowledge had slammed into his skull a few minutes ago like someone driving a spike through his brain. Magic, tech, divine favor, whatever this thing was, it wasn't normal. But he wasn't complaining.
It was a cheat. A big, fat cheat. And he was going to milk it dry like a starving man with a cow that couldn't kick.
Still, no point gawking. He muttered, "Dismiss," and the thing blinked out without fanfare. He walked forward, pushing through the shimmer, Daenerys still limp on his back like a sack of wet laundry.
She'd drooled half a pond into his shirt, and now the fabric clung cold and sticky to his spine. Fancy silk, ruined. Figures.
The street he entered was dead quiet, the kind of silence that made you check your pockets and keep a hand on a blade.
Narrow and crooked, the little street cut between rows of sagging houses, most of them made from cheap brick and rotting wood. The place stank, salt, mildew, and the sour tang of piss baked into the stone. Not surprising.
This was one of the forgotten corners of Braavos. A pisshole isle tucked away from the canals and the gold-lined merchant quarters.
The people here weren't even lowborn, they were no-born. Shit-scrapers, crippled sailors, half-mad beggars missing teeth and toes.
You didn't see nobles down here. Hell, you didn't even see guards. Just rats, drunkards, and the occasional body no one bothered to clean up.
And now a Targaryen.
Viserys snorted. "Glory and Blood," he muttered, stepping over what looked like a dead cat, though it might've been a rat the size of a dog. Hard to tell in this light.
"DANY! Look what I got for you!"
It was Viserys , my brother, grinning like an idiot, sprinting toward me with a bundle of rabbits in his arms. His legs kicked around like they didn't agree with being caught.
He looked... young. Real young. Maybe five or six namesday old. Way before the sneering, angry version I knew took over. Before the crown and the madness.
I glanced around.
I was standing in a wide-open field, grass up to the ankles, flowers scattered everywhere like someone had dumped paint on the ground.
Animals ran around, rabbits, cats, even a few puppies rolling over each other like they had nothing better to do.
Off in the distance, guards stood at the edge of the field, still and silent, armored up like royal statues. Our guards. Targaryen men.
It felt familiar. Too familiar.
Where the hell was this?
"Dany! Dany!" Viserys' tiny hands grabbed my shoulders and gave me a hard shake. "Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?"
I stared at him. That innocent face. That tilted head. That stupid soft look he used to have before everything turned sour. I hadn't seen that version of him in years. Decades, maybe. Before the exile, before the hunger, before he became... Mad.
He was... actually good once. Not a monster. Just a boy.
"Nothing, brother," I muttered, forcing a smile. "Let's play."
I reached out and grabbed one of the baby rabbits from his arms, soft, fat little thing, warm in my hands. Its fur felt real. Too real. Thick. Heavy. Like it wasn't a dream.
But I knew it was.
Because the real Viserys was gone. And this, this was just my head messing with me.
Viserys dropped to the grass beside me, out of breath and smiling like he'd won a war.
He let the rabbits tumble out of his arms, and they scattered in every direction, some hopping away like they had urgent business elsewhere, others just collapsing in the grass like lazy little lords.
"You always lose them," I said, sitting down cross-legged. "You catch ten, we keep maybe three."
He flopped back in the grass. "I don't care. Catching them's the fun part."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling too. He was right. We didn't have many games back then, no tournaments, no noble lessons, just guards who didn't talk much and a keep that always felt too big and too cold. So we made our own fun.
"Let's race," he said suddenly, sitting up like he just had the idea of the century.
"To where?"
"That big rock. Over there."
It was barely a hill, just a fat, ugly lump of stone a few dozen yards away, but it might as well have been Dragonstone the way he looked at it.
"You're gonna trip again," I said, standing up and brushing off my dress.
He grinned. "Only if you cheat."
I didn't wait. I ran.
He shouted after me, then cursed, then ran too. We tore across the field, boots kicking up dirt, rabbits scattering, flowers crushed underfoot. I laughed so hard my sides hurt. He caught up once, tried to pull my arm back, and we both went down in the grass, tumbling like idiots.
We lay there, gasping for breath, staring up at the sky, blue and endless, not a single damn thing wrong in the world.
"You'd make a better dragon than me," he muttered, voice quiet, almost like he didn't mean to say it out loud.
I turned my head. He was still smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"You don't mean that."
He shrugged. "Maybe I do."
The wind rolled over the field. I didn't know what to say, so I just reached out and held his hand.
He didn't pull away.
"I'm happy," he said, eyes locked on mine. There was a smile on his face — soft, real, but his eyes were full of tears. That part didn't make sense. I'd had dreams like this before, of our childhood, of how things used to be. But he'd never cried in them. Viserys didn't cry. Not in front of anyone. Not even me.
Something was off.
"Why are you crying?" I asked, but my voice came out thin, like it didn't belong to me.
He didn't answer. He just kept looking at me, eyes glistening.
"You be happy from now on," he said, louder this time. No hesitation, no anger. Just... final.
Then it started.
His skin cracked first, not with blood, but like dry dirt splitting in the sun. His fingers crumbled in mine, turning to soil, dark and coarse. I jerked back, but it was already too late. His arms, his chest, his face, it all began falling apart, like he'd never been flesh and blood to begin with.
"No-" I started, but the words caught in my throat.
The field went next. The grass wilted, turned black, and scattered like ash. Flowers shriveled up and vanished. The rabbits were gone. The guards, all of them, gone without a sound. The sky cracked open, not with thunder, but with silence.
Everything was falling apart.
Everything except me.
I stood there, fists clenched, staring at the patch of dirt where my brother had just been.
This wasn't a dream anymore.
It felt like a goodbye.
..........
"Hey. You. You're finally awake."
Those were the first words I heard as my eyes cracked open — heavy, sluggish, and I realized I was moving. My body rocked slightly with every step. I was being carried.
By someone.
Wait. What the hell!
"Did I get kidnapped?" That thought slammed into my brain like a sword through ice.
The person carrying me chuckled, low and unbothered. "No, you didn't, dummy."
His voice was familiar.
We turned a corner, and the narrow path opened into a wider street. Fire torches lit the stone walls, the flames dancing against the damp night air. That's when I saw his face.
Sharp jaw. Silver hair to the shoulders. Violet eyes that looked like they belonged to a dragon, not a man. Pretty, unfairly pretty, actually, like he was carved out of some old Valyrian statue.
"Brother?" I said it out loud before I could stop myself.
And just like that, more panic slammed in.
He's my brother? He's carrying me? Why the hell can he hear my thoughts?
Without even looking down, he muttered, "Maybe you shouldn't say things out loud if you don't want people to hear them."
The bastard was enjoying this. I didn't even need to see his face to know he was smirking. He always had this smug little way of teasing, like he knew exactly how to push my buttons without lifting a damn finger.
I used to hate it.
Now? I didn't know. It felt... different. Familiar. Safe, in a way I didn't trust yet.
And maybe that scared me more than the dream did.
{A/N}This chapter dropped a bit late, had four class tests today that absolutely beat the life outta me. But did I lose? Nah. I WIN'D. (Okay, maybe just barely survived.)
This one's slower-paced, yeah, but I really want to give the characters actual depth and build their relationships properly. Makes it more fun for me to write, and hopefully more real and enjoyable for you to read.
So, should I keep going with this? If you're liking the story so far, drop a comment, it seriously helps with motivation.
Also, bonus chapters if we hit 100 power stones in a day, I'll post one(Maybe two) extra chapters.
Oh, and I just made a Discord server for this fic! If you wanna talk theories, yell at the characters, or just hang out, I'll drop the link in the comments.