Chapter One: Wakey, Wakey
The first thing I noticed as I awoke was that it was too damned bright.
The light that filled my eyes stung like hell, forcing me to narrow them just to be able to see around me.
Once I adjusted I realized to my horror that I did not recognize the grey-stone above me.
Where the hell was I? My first instinct was to sit up and to try and figure out what was going on, but my body had refused to move when I tried to prop myself up.
That failure had made me panic, I realized that the accident probably had happened and that I was higher than a kite on pain killers. I tried to call for help but when I opened my mouth and tried to speak only groaning came out, that had been far from reassuring.
I kept trying to call for someone as fear quickly welled up in my guts before giving in to panic, how bad was that accident? Were my limbs just broken or were they gone? Why was I too medicated to talk properly? Had I been in a coma?
My hysteria grew more and more out of control until I heard someone saying words that I couldn't understand and I felt a pair of hands wrapping around my and lifting me up to hold and calm me.
That froze every single gear in my mind and cut straight through my fit, how the hell did a pair of hands pick me up? I was a fairly big guy and not exactly lightly built either, but as I focused my strangely weak vision and tried to see through the light I realized that I was staring at the kind face of young woman dressed in red in a lamp lit room. And said woman was carrying me as if I weighed little to nothing.
Her long hair blonde hair was tied into a neat braid and her features were striking and honestly her proportions were pretty good from what I could see. Proportions to kill for accented by the way her arms were-
Wait a minute, how were her hands angled like that? It seemed like she was just holding a small object and her hands felt positively massive underneath me, no.
No please god no.
Was I in a baby?
I was a baby.
What?
I couldn't wrap my head around that at all, so wait reincarnation is real? Why can I remember my life then? I thought most reincarnation faiths involved a 'wipe' of some sort or another? Hold on a second, did I get killed by a damned car!?
"&*$ # #*:%?" She asked in a language I couldn't understand. Oh, sweet god I couldn't understand her. What the hell was happening?!
All those questions were promptly silenced as she stuck her nipple in my mouth and I began trying to scream at the top of my now tiny lungs.
…
As weeks passed I began to piece together a reasonable image of my situation. And it was most definitely not good.
The first thing I learned was that wherever 'here' was, it was not up to my standards. The surroundings were a mix of ornate and primitive which told me that I had either been thrown back in time or I was in another world altogether, or in some sort of survivalist compound run by renaissance faire fans. None were optimal to be sure but if nothing else at least I had not been reborn into a poor family, if the obsessive amount of furs, silks and gold in my nursery and the nannies looking after me were any indication.
My first solid clue of my exact situation was my roommate, the noisy baby that shared my room with and frequently had the nannies running to swaddle him. I noticed he seemed to prefer the younger nannies for whatever reason which concerned me, namely because I was not keen on my survival being seen to by a group that included what seemed like teens.
Still, I guessed I could not fault him (I was fairly sure that it was a him), my niece had been much the same way in her youth and considering our surroundings I could wager that survival was not exactly optimal regardless of the nannies experience. Still it was not a great comfort to spend weeks in 'baby on airplane' hell.
In any case the baby looked weird, it had violet eyes and a few wisps of white-gold hair. That made me weary instantly as it was a clear point for the 'not earth' category. I could hardly judge since what few trips I had done in the arms of nannies allowed me to catch glimpses of myself in mirrors. I was more or less the same with a lighter (almost pink) tone to my eyes and more gold than silver in my slightly fuller hair.
So, whatever I was stuck in was either not human or the pigment range of humans wherever 'here' was, either way it meant that I not on earth anymore.
I also noticed that whatever the hell the locals spoke was, it was at least similar to English, certainly a relative of the romance-languages at least in sound. In my previous life, I had considered being semi-fluent in a few languages to be a mark of pride so I hurriedly made mental notes of every word they uttered. I needed to pick up the language sooner rather than later.
Strangely enough, it was not that hard to engrave them into my mind which suggested that either my mind was not quite the same or that I was merely subject to the benefits of a child's brain. I truly hoped that the latter was the case, compromised sanity would not help me survive. Still if it meant that I could understand their words before long, I was not going to question it too much.
Then there was the view whenever the nannies took me to a balcony, on one side of the castle (and I could safely wager that I was in fact in a castle) was the endless horizon over blue of a sea while to the other was a city. A dirty and definitely-overcrowded city dominated by what looked like three hills (or just accumulated rot given how bloated the city looked for the level of development I had seen) above one of which my new home was situated. Above another hill was a tall black dome which I could not fathom the use of and atop the other was what looked like a fortification of some sort.
In retrospect, I should have gotten a better idea of my location from that clue but at the time I just made a mental note that my new home was definitely not a high-fantasy setting (which ironically enough, I was wrong about in the worst way possible). It seemed like the lowest of low-fantasy, more like the something out of a mad enlightenment revisionist's wet dream than anything that could actually exist.
Aside from trying to puzzle out my circumstances, trying to decipher the local tongue, attempting to achieve control of my body and the various humiliations which at the time composed my sanitation and dietary needs, I received a continual and in hindsight obvious clue as to my location. I and my neighbor had visitors.
Every so often I would see someone come by and speak with the nannies, their clothing varied in value and style but a few in particular stood out and actively engaged with us. I habitually began sorting them into piles.
…
Our most frequent visitor was a tall, rather pretty girl who looked about a decade the junior of my true age, her dressing style indicated a serious level of status. Her hair long and the colour of oak, her form tall and slender with a face that I would happily call absolutely gorgeous. The only thing ruining her look was the absurd amount of ornamentation on her dresses and hair, normal enough for a woman of status at the time but really a shame. In any case I suspected her to be a relative of some sort given the way she picked up and swaddled me and my twin(?) although I would wager a distant cousin given the severe differences in our looks but I was slightly unnerved by the sheer amount of affection in her green eyes.
She made a point of visiting on an almost daily basis and seemed to drill our caretakers, I could not quite pick up the specifics but it seemed to me that she was probably asking after our health. It was always good to see a relative that cared, especially if the nobility here worked anything like the normal perception of European nobility.
Perhaps it was a bit premature but I put her in the 'ally' pile.
…
My second most-frequent visitor was by far the shortest, a little girl no more than ten if I had to wager. She wasn't particularly tall, having to call on the nannies to hand us to her when she was unable to look over our cradles. A sister I suspected given the similar silver-gold in her hair and the shade of her critical violet eyes which matched my 'twin', she didn't seem that content with us for some reason but I think I struck a better impression than my sulky peer. Babies could weaponize cuteness if need be and I had been practicing hard to get giggles from the nannies.
Stare dead in the eyes, giggle when tickled or kissed and try to look as affectionate as you can manage, a winning combination so far. For my efforts I occasionally got her to crack a smile at least once per visit which I considered a win.
She had only begun to visit about two weeks into my stay in that body but quickly became a staple visitor of at least three times a day. In fact, I should stress that she was my second most-frequent visitor. she lost interest rather quickly in my twin (not that I could blame her since his sulky attitude was grating as hell) and seemed only interested in me. Which to be honest I was content with, I didn't know how inheritance worked in this land and I would rather make sure I had my bread buttered on the right side.
I was fairly certain she was in the 'ally' pile as well.
Regrettably her literal knight in shining armor which stalked her consistently seemed adamantly less fond of me for some reason. The young man who I hazard to guess was in his mid-twenties struck quite the image in his shining armor enameled white to say nothing of his annoyingly handsome face with rich dark hair and stunning green eyes. Said eyes were far more stunning in the sheer amount of displeasure they were burning into me however to the degree that I froze up like a deer in headlights the few times he picked me up while praying that he would not throw me out a window.
He was definitely not going into the 'wants me not-dead' pile.
...
The third most common visitor gave me a serious warning to be mindful of my shape as soon as possible. My previous body amounted fat easily and if the corpulent shape of the man who was clearly either my royal father or royal uncle was any indication, then my new body was no different. And I do mean royal, the guy was decked out in more jewels than a tasteless, incredibly wealthy man going through the world's most severe mid-life crisis.
To his credit he seemed a jovial man, a permanent smile etched on his face from ear to ear that if it wasn't for his jolly eyes would give me some serious Joker-vibes. Somehow, I failed to take proper note of the creature which was all over his richly embroidered clothing. At least he was easy to win approval from as long as I could make the 'cute' thing last.
I hesitated to put him in any pile at all given that he had only been to see us about three times in the entire time I had been there.
…
My last most frequent visitor was in short, a dick. The man was tall, thinly built with oaky hair who was quite obviously related to the young woman who was our frequent guest. So, he sort of looked like a dick as well, I admit that I am getting derailed here but I did not like him. At all.
One damned time he looked at me, I mean that's fine and all but given that he stopped by once a day to see my twin was sort of grating. The fact that one time he eyed me like a shopper eyeing a loaf of bread at a market was not exactly endearing.
For the time being he was going into the tentatively named, 'asshole' pile.
…
Despite some minor hiccups however, things seemed to be going well. I had come to terms with my demise and had decided to settle for avoiding a repeat. Which is to say that I worked to the best of my ability to be the cutest and least troublesome baby possible, given the affection in the faces of the maids and the annoyed expression they made with my much more troublesome neighbor, I was succeeding.
If they were going to dislike someone, I would gladly toss my neighbor under the anachronistic bus.
It was about a month in the I realized how screwed I was.
…
It was fairly early in the day when the nannies scurried into action, they changed me and what I was now very certain was my twin. In red and black, they dressed us like the rest of our surroundings (right down to framing with gold). It was frankly ridiculous but much like what I had decided was my stance on this new life, I decided to play on being as cute as an extremely festive button.
Once we were sufficiently prepared the nannies ran and fetched my green visitor who I was beginning to suspect might well be my mother. Which would solidly confirm that genetics are weird wherever I was given how little like her we looked.
While she normally had an attendant or two on hand during her visits this time she came with around a dozen young women who looked a little too well-dressed to be servants. Handmaidens perhaps? Ladies-in-waiting? Wait were those the same thing?
She inspected each of us before calling a follower to take one of us into her arms and then repeated the motion. After we set off I quickly puzzled out why she was not holding us herself. It was a really long walk and I could totally get behind not wanting to make the walk with two less than tiny babies in hand.
As we walked I idly noted that there was a lot of red in our surroundings, red stone which for some reason struck an ominous cord for me.
We stopped before a massive entrance for a moment and I got a sinking feeling. Why did it seem so familiar? More importantly, why did it give me such a bad feeling? That question hung in my mind until the doors opened.
And I saw it.
It was a god be damned monster of melted steel. It towered like a massive beast which had curled around the heart of the cavernous chamber, a beast made of blades beyond counting all twisted into the shape of a massive throne by the flames of the great creature whose head hung behind the throne, rivaling it in size.
The vast skull was of a beast which in life had horns and wicked fangs with a shape that screamed one of the most evocative words in literature and myth. Dragon.
At that moment, every clue I had received since arriving clicked into place at once. Red and black, violet eyes and silver-gold hair, three hills in a port city, dragon skulls and an iron throne. My tiny heart stopped for a moment from shock and the cute smile I tried to wear on my face was almost a rictus grin.
The woman, our mother advanced into the chamber, trailed by her ladies. She was almost glowing with pride which was to be expected from a mother presenting her children. Hopefully her first, given her obvious youth.
But no guaranteed given where I was.
I was in Westeros, that was not good.
In the same way being lit on fire being shoved into a wood-chipper was 'not good'.
The courtiers were murmuring things to each other as we passed, I saw dozens of different heraldries across their clothing. Dresses and doublets of countless colours. Cuts and hats like a renaissance fair gone rampant. I saw towers, animals, weapons of all sorts announcing the identities of the now familiar houses.
I was in Westeros and I was a baby.
She stopped before the throne and kneeled before the man who I now realized was our father and the child who was likely our sister. My brain went into overdrive as I tried to puzzle out exactly which Targaryens we were as the they spoke in Westron which surprisingly enough was not English, lovely that. I could not recall that many twins being born into the Targaryens which was not helpful and our mother obviously was not a Targaryen either. I had one big indicator of which time period I was in and it worried me.
I was in Westeros and there were way too few skulls in the chamber. A bit over a half-dozen at most.
He came down to pick up my brother, then myself. His eyes were still too kind, worse they seemed weak.
I was in Westeros and I was going to die again.
He passed us to our sister, who kissed us each on the brow.
I was in Westeros, oh sweet gods no.
I recognized the parts. The mother with a tower as an emblem who would one day wear green, the smiling king who was all to weak and the young heiress who would be made a monster.
I would see the Dance, I was going to die again.
First Day of the Second Month, 107 After Aegon's Conquest.