The Accident
Chapter 1: The Accident
The air in King’s Landing was heavy with heat and the faint scent of salt carried from Blackwater Bay. In the Red Keep’s courtyard, the laughter of children echoed as they chased one another across the cobbled ground. Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, ran alongside his uncles—Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron—all older and rougher in their play.
Lucerys, though eager to prove himself, was smaller and younger, always a step behind. His elder brother Jacaerys had been there earlier, but duty had pulled him away, leaving Lucerys to fend for himself. Now, alone against his uncles, he found himself the target of their relentless taunts.
“Come on, Lucerys!” Aemond’s voice rang out. His words carried a mocking edge. “Or are you too slow to keep up?”
There was something unsettling in the way Aemond smiled, his pale eyes glinting with something darker than playful rivalry. Lucerys, determined not to let them see his hesitation, pushed harder, his legs burning with effort.
But Aemond wasn’t finished. The young Targaryen reached out, almost casually, his foot sliding out just enough to make Lucerys trip. Lucerys stumbled forward, losing his balance as the world tilted beneath him. His head slammed into the stone with a sickening crack, and everything went black.
Days passed before Lucerys stirred. His body remained motionless, caught between dreams and a void, while his family hovered anxiously over his small frame. Rhaenyra, beside herself with worry, rarely left his bedside. Laenor watched over them both, concern etched deep into his features.
When Lucerys finally awoke, the boy they had known did not fully return.
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Draco Malfoy had been a master potion-maker, a path he had chosen to distance himself from the dark legacy of his family. In the years following the war, he had honed his craft, gaining respect for his precision and knowledge. But a single miscalculation—a dangerous experiment with a volatile potion—had cost him dearly.
Draco’s world had shattered in an instant, and now, as his eyes opened to a strange new place, he was no longer the man he once was.
The bed beneath him was unfamiliar, the ceiling above him too high, too ancient. He blinked, his vision adjusting as he took in the room. A woman sat by his side, her silver hair spilling over her shoulders, her violet eyes filled with worry.
“Lucerys,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke his cheek. “My sweet boy.”
The woman’s touch was gentle, but her voice was not one Draco recognized. He stared up at her, confusion swirling as he realized he wasn’t in his body. His hands—small, childlike—gripped the covers as he pieced together what had happened.
This wasn’t Hogwarts. This wasn’t the wizarding world.
This was Westeros.
The woman beside him was Rhaenyra Targaryen, the realm’s heir. And somehow, he was inside the body of her son, Lucerys Velaryon.
“Mother…” The word left his lips before he could stop it, a strange mix of Draco’s memories and Lucerys’ instincts guiding him.
Rhaenyra’s face softened, though the worry remained. “You took a terrible fall while playing with your uncles. Do you remember?”
Lucerys—or Draco, hidden within—shook his head slowly, fighting the fog in his mind. He remembered the pain, the sharp crack of his skull hitting the ground, but there was something more. A look in Aemond’s eyes before the fall—cold, deliberate. This wasn’t just a game gone wrong. There was intent behind it.
“It’s all right,” Rhaenyra murmured, her hand still resting on his. “Just rest, my love.”
The door creaked open, and Laenor entered, his expression tight with concern. “Lucerys.” His voice was soft as he crossed the room, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “You scared us all.”
Draco—Lucerys—looked up at Laenor, feeling an unfamiliar warmth at the man’s presence. It was different from what he had known growing up with Lucius Malfoy. Laenor’s concern wasn’t tinged with cold duty or expectation. It was genuine love, and it was something Draco hadn’t experienced in a long time.
“We’ve decided,” Laenor continued after a brief pause, “we’ll be leaving King’s Landing. You need rest and safety, and you won’t find that here.” His voice was firm, but there was a sadness beneath it. “I’ll send word to my parents. Rhaenys and Corlys will meet us at Dragonstone. It’s where you’ll be safest.”
Rhaenyra glanced at Laenor, nodding slightly. “You’ll be safe there, Lucerys. We won’t take any more chances here.” There was a hint of bitterness in her tone, as if the Red Keep itself had betrayed them.
Lucerys—Draco—nodded slowly, processing what was happening. The fall, the manipulation, the Greens—Alicent’s faction—were making their move. And now the Blacks, his new family, would have to prepare.
Jacaerys had visited earlier, checking on his brother between his lessons, but time had passed, and he had been pulled away by duty. For now, Lucerys was alone with his parents.
As the conversation swirled around him, Draco’s mind churned with thoughts of strategy. This was not his world, but the rules of power were not so different from what he had known. And with his knowledge of cunning and ambition, he would protect this family, this mother who reminded him so much of Narcissa.
Whatever came next, Draco—or Lucerys—was ready.