I

DRAGONSTONE – 73 years after the Doom of Valyria

There had been no choking on food or car accident, no accidental demise by way of being a moron. I should be glad, I think, that I went the way I did. It would be traumatic to suddenly die horribly and have the displeasure of being reincarnated. But that's besides the point. One night I was curling in my bed, after having showered and cladded myself in my silkiest pyjamas. I had gone to bed knowing where I was, what I was, and definitely who I was. Then, my mind had wandered (quite literally) and I woke up in a dark, very humid place before the light at the end of the tunnel had come in in the most literal sense. What followed was the most bizarre lapse of time ever: I had gotten a cursory slap on the rump and suddenly my brain was filled with a ton of information that I should not have known.

That the last words I had been told were something about reviving the fires of the Freehold before the inevitable hysteria hit me in conjunction with the confusion did not help. In fact, it left me screaming loudly in a high-pitched voice that most certainly should not have been mine as I tried, and failed, to get a good look at my surroundings.

After having digested the fact that I had become a Valyrian juju encyclopedia, the realisation that I had been self-inserted hit me.

And into a baby no less.

Naturally, I was totally fine and adopted the goal of surviving- no.

I was on the brink of committing suicide.

Emphasis on the brink given my muscles were not developed enough for me to actually commit the action. My attempts at starving myself to death were just as bootless given they (more precisely my new mother) forcibly injected milk inside of me via her teat.

Now, I might sound non-plussed and not too concerned about it anymore (or maybe not).

Well, it does take some time to digest the fact you'll one day be doing it with your sister if you were unlucky enough or a cousin if the gods decided to bless you. Then add the fact you've been reincarnated in GRRM's world full of a worrying amount of death in childbirth and an even greater number of rapes and it gets even worse.

While I suppose I had been blessed in the most literal of ways, that did not mean I was pleased with my new surroundings, what with the lack of indoor plumbing and all.

But again, life and lemons.


DRAGONSTONE – 78 years after the Doom of Valyria

"You do remember the plan, right?"

Viserys' tone was stern and questioning, his lips were pursed and there was that ever-prominent scowl on his face. Garbed in a roughspun cloak that he positively drowned in and a leather satchel that slid down to his thigh, he looked plainly ridiculous in Orys' honest opinion.

"You should not do this," Orys repeated uneasily for the umpteenth time that night, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at his brother. Viserys was only an inch shorter and a year younger than Orys yet he had the attitude of a man ten times his age.

"I will be doing it either way," Viserys muttered, hands balled into little fists as he stared up at Orys defiantly. "Nothing, and I mean nothing, is stopping me from climbing that damned volcano. It'll be first light by the time I climb out so I will be able to track down Vhagar."

He sounded so convinced of his safety that Orys almost believed him. Almost. His better senses practically screamed at him for even agreeing to such a moronic scheme in the first place.

"What if she eats you?" Orys whisper-yelled, feeling his uneasiness shoot up at the thought of a headless little brother who'd been charred to death. Viserys, ever nonchalant, only waved his hand dismissively.

"I have studied this for years," he insisted, "She will not eat me. Besides, you swore upon the Seven to help me!"

Not for the first time, Orys rued having been coerced into helping his brother in this destined-to-fail plot. Viserys was barely five, clad in a cloak he would no doubt trip on and heaving a satchel full of meat and a dagger up the Dragonmont. Vhagar was younger than the other dragons yet still monstrously huge with a row of teeth like black daggers. The thought of his little brother ending up "shish-kebbabed" as Viserys liked calling it did not entice him, not even when he swore he would bring Orys riding upon his dragon.

"The Archontissa will not be pleased," he noted weakly. The Lady Valaena did not like him as he was. The thought he might just as well lead Viserys to his death would no doubt increase the contempt she held towards him. Perhaps even father would begin hating him. The thought alone made Orys scared.

"Mother will not know," Viserys stated matter-of-factly, his scowl deepening, "And the Seven will look down upon a man who breaks a holy oath."

"You don't even pray to the Seven," Orys pointed out weakly, "And my... my other family pray to them. I do not... Not completely." Viserys only gave him a non-plussed look.

"And?" he questioned, head jolting to either side of him, "You believe in them somewhat and that should be enough to scare you. Imagine burning in the Seven Hells for outing me!"

The mention of the Seven Hells made his stomach churn unpleasantly, no matter how oft his father called it nonsensical tripe spouted by the mouths of lesser men.

"Why must you do this again?" Orys asked desperately, anxiety increasing with every second they spent discussing his scheme. Viserys sighed, almost as if he were an adult too tired to explain the reasoning behind his plan.

"My dragon dreams, Orys," he said impatiently, "I must bond with Vhagar early enough using the ritual so that she will grow at a faster rate. By the time that I'm at the very most seven-and-twenty-"

"Why seven-and-twenty?"

Viserys sighed again. "Nothing you must concern yourself with at the moment. But to put it simply, I want Vhagar to be large enough to ride into battle and not find myself riddled with arrows. You are protecting me by doing this. Trust me."

"Why would you be riddled with arrows?" Orys asked worriedly, "Have you seen something in your dreams?"

Viserys had long confided in him his dragon dreams. They were marvelous, according to Viserys, full of secrets that had died in the Doom of Valyria. And Orys was the only one who had been told as of yet! Yet, Viserys stated they meant nothing without a dragon under his control.

"Of course not," Viserys said, wiping the dust off his cloak, "It was a figurative way of speaking."

"Can't you tame Meraxes?" Orys asked, "I heard from father that she is more docile and stays closer to the castle."

"Of course not!" Viserys protested hotly, "She's Rhaenys' dragon."

"What?"

The thought of their baby sister astride the magnificent silver-scaled dragon did not make sense to him. Rhaenys was still a babe, not even one nameday old yet!

"Moving on," Viserys continued, "I prefer Vhagar. She's smaller and less likely to eat me at first sight. If things go awry, my odds of survival are better with Vhagar than Meraxes."

"You are scared!" The thought alone was confusing. Viserys was never scared. He took to everything with the gusto of a man five times his age and excelled at everything he put his mind to. To even think Viserys who was so self-assured would be scared was mind-boggling.

"I am not!" he screeched, cheeks adopting a light reddish blush, "I am confident. Now settle down onto the floor. I can't reach the windowsill on my own."

His legs moved by themselves, dragging him to the window that had been left open. Their room was on the ground floor of the castle proper, spacious if not plain to look at. Chiding himself once more for agreeing to it, Orys knelt onto the floor, his hands landing solidly against the smooth, marble floor. Viserys' bare feet clambered onto his back, making him groan at the sudden injection of weight yet soon they were gone as he climbed onto the windowsill and steadied himself.

"Do not forget the sleeping draught," Viserys noted blithely, a small smile on his face.

Orys frowned but nodded. "I won't."

His feet padded towards the bedside table where the milky liquid was contained in a copper cup. The rim touched his lips and soon he was drinking it all in one gulp, the bitter aftertaste followed by a sudden swing of drowsiness.

"If I do die, it was fun knowing you, brother," Viserys said smiling before he jumped from the windowsill outside and into the open grounds. There was a groan, a string of curses that would have made any maiden blush then the cracking of leaves that faded as his brother disappeared into the unknown.

Orys meanwhile felt drowsier by the second as he climbed onto the downy featherbed mattress. His eyes gave the window a second glance, his ears straining to hear if his brother was still out there. Then, sleep claimed him.


The day had started horribly to say the least.

His castellan had begun the day by informing him one of their trading ships had been lost somewhere along their journey along the Summer Sea, taking with it spices, perfumes, and jade from Qarth down to the watery halls of hell. That alone had struck a nerve.

Still, Aerion had not lashed out. He had taken it as lightly as he could and muttered a simple prayer to the Fourteen for only taking down one ship and not all four. Then, he had marched to the private dining room where his family broke their fasts and sat down at the head of the table.

The blinding hot mint tea that had accidentally splashed against the scarlet of his tunic was the second sign that things would only continue going downhill. Even then, he had taken it as graciously as he could, waving off the servant girl's concerns as she apologized profusely, stammering as she dabbed a rag against his chest. His wife had been on the verge of yelling at the poor girl but he had brushed it off and made his way to his chambers to change.

Then, Orys had come in, barefoot as he ran in his nightclothes. His eyes were wide with fear and his lips trembled as he breathed in.

"Father, Viserys is gone!" he exclaimed, lips quivering.

That had been the third thing that had gone wrong. Wet tunic forgotten, he went down on his knees and questioned his son over what had happened. Over half-hiccupped words, he found out Viserys had disappeared somewhere in the night, bypassing all the guards as he snuck outside the castle grounds.

Naturally, his wife had been in earshot when Orys' description of how he had woken up to his brother forcibly coaxing a sleeping draught down his lips and could do nothing but watch as his brother ran away.

"What?" was his wife's shrill reply, one hand wrapped around Aegon's small hand as he began crying.

That had been the fourth thing that had gone wrong. Before long, Aegon was sobbing while Valaena tried to wring out the full story from his son who looked only terrified. Aerion's worry had only gotten worse as his wife brought up scenarios that had no likelihood of happening but were still terrifying. Viserys getting kidnapped, Viserys being stabbed to death by one of the smallfolk, Viserys getting enslaved by pirates. On and on she went as she cried and yelled at the guards who encircled them at the sight of her collapsing onto the floor.

"Calm down, my love," Aerion urged with a calm he did not feel, "Orys, tell me truthfully, where do you think your brother could have gone?"

All it took was one short glance at his son for him to know where.

"The Dragonmont?!"

Aerion felt himself rush to his room to grab his whip and ordered Balerion to be saddled immediately. The Dragonmont was no place for a child, especially for a child of five namedays. Even hatchlings were a threat to Viserys, let alone the two full grown dragons who currently inhabited the place!

"That stupid, reckless child!" he cursed, hand coiled around his whip as he rushed outside into the courtyard where a crowd of servants had gathered, all gaping as a massive shadow covered all of them. The sun disappeared behind the huge bulk, bronze scales glinting as its blue-green crest grew in size as she descended.

Vhagar, the dragon that had been his father's mount, had returned from the Dragonmont for the first time in three years.

And not alone.

Nestled between her spikes was an almost insignificant diminutive figure whose hood had been pulled back, revealing silvery hair and a face flushed red from the sun. Vhagar's bright green eyes cast Aerion a glance before she lowered her neck, allowing Viserys to descend onto the ground with an easy grace before he frowned at the sight of Aerion.

Valaena beat him to their son, taking little care to how her gown scraped against the floor as she embraced Viserys and began to sob. Aegon toddled towards them both, crying as well. It was only then Aerion realized Valaena had completely forgotten little Rhaenys in her panic.

While the relief that flushed through him was a welcome one, the anger that followed, compounded with a series of ever-worsening occurrences, only made him scowl, knuckles white as his grip on the whip tightened ever so slightly. His son was in big, big trouble.

Given Viserys had the grace to look ashamed, he knew it too.


"One moon away from the library," Viserys lamented, his rasher of bacon and juice completely forgotten as he stewed in his misery. Orys sent him a weak smile.

The sheer commotion that followed his descent from the Dragonmont atop Vhagar had enabled Orys to clear himself of any suspicion in aiding his brother in what could have been a suicidal mission. The plan had worked almost flawlessly; Viserys had conquered Vhagar and sliced his hand open in the process of claiming her.

Lady Valaena had marshaled him towards the physician's room while their lord father had barely kept his temper in check. A flock of servants had sequestered them back to the private dining room while Viserys no doubt received the lambasting of his life.

When he had returned, his eyes had shot everyone a look that could kill, his mouth slackened into a pout as he played with his food, his cheek bruised red as he glared at their father.

"It is unfair," he screeched, spearing his sausage violently, "My plan succeeded flawlessly and no one was harmed!"

Orys knew better than arguing with his younger brother. The boy was anything but beyond reasoning once one of his dark moods took over. "He should be proud I even had the stones to climb up that damned volcano!"

Orys grimaced. Very, very dark moods.

"At least you claimed Vhagar," Orys offered, making Viserys sigh and shake his head.

"It means little that I claimed Vhagar when I am not even allowed to ride her!" he raged, bandaged hand eyeing his now shredded sausage with dangerous intent, "It is bad enough I must needs marry Rhaenys when she is old enough! But now this!? This... torture they dare call discipline! It is outrageous! It is unfair!"

"Father is only worried," Orys reasoned, "I am sure he will not make you adhere to it. Well, the dragon riding part at the very least."

Viserys only shot him a baleful look. "That is not all," he sulked, "He says I am to be a cupbearer for my uncle Daemon like some common Westerosi dog! I have no doubt my mama was the one who convinced him. She always was too kind to that gods be damned brother of hers. Now I am to be a ward to that arrogant son of a b-"

"Language," Orys reminded him solemnly, "The servants will tell father you've been swearing again."

Somehow, the boy had picked up more curse words than Orys even knew existed. How? Orys did not know. Some words he even swore were not swear words and were simply gibberish but Orys knew his brother well enough to know that was not the case.

"Damn him and his damn punishments," Viserys cursed once more, "Living in this damn world is a punishment in itself. I underestimated the care parents had for their children."

"What?"

Viserys looked up at him, no longer lost in thought before his mouth closed. "Nothing to concern yourself about," he dismissed, "I must pack. Hopefully, Driftmark will not impede on my plans. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Orys, I will need a favour from you while I'm gone. Do not let Aegon and Rhaenys grow too close. I have no want in getting horned-"

"Horned? What does that even mean?"

Viserys only sighed tiredly before shaking his head.

"Nothing. Nothing."