Jaehaerys the conciliator and all residents of Kings Landing will remember the day his grandson was born. Not for the tragedy of his dear daughter Alyssa's death, for that will be another notch in his heart, he's outlasted so many of his children. The babe she left behind had been greeted by the roaring of the dragons kept in the Dragon pit.
He even got reports from his granddaughter Rhaenys that Meleys had reacted strangely.
"Your grace, I can take him from you." The nursemaid, who has been tending his grand-hatchling tries, and he has to huff in indignation.
Do they think he is decrepit at his age? He's a man who lost everything for this kingdom, he deserves a little bit of melancholy.
"That's alright, I missed this." He says sincerely, shifting the child higher and settling into the chair. He runs a wrinkled hand across the little ones' snow-like locks. He feels a smile stretching across his face as he takes in the blinking babe. His daughter's eyes, and his son's nose.
"You and yours are the only thing I have left of them," of his sweet Alysanne. He chuckles as dual-toned eyes search his face before clapping his hand, "Gah."
Feeling his arms start to strain, he reluctantly sets the baby in the crib next to him.
"Bring little Jaehaerys into my apartment," he orders weakly getting up.
"Your grace, may I ask why?" He hears the nursemaid inquire.
He turns to the young girl, "Can't a grandfather wish to have his grandson nearby?" His tone implies that it's not her station to question him.
She shifts, "I apologize, Your Grace, I just was-" he holds up his hand.
"I understand, but your concern is unwarranted."
The guard peeks his head in, "Your grace, lord Hand has sent for you." The guard is a young boy with a lot of passion.
Giving his grandson a tired look and letting out a heavy sigh running an aged finger over soft cheeks, "Duty calls, little dragon."
He looks towards the nurse, "You care for the boy I assume," wincing and feeling his hip ache as he stands.
The plump woman gives a startled look, "I-of course your grace, the little prince is a delight." She says with a sincere but nervous smile.
"Good, good. I'm much too old to care for the boy, and Viserys is too young with a newborn on the way, I'm entrusting you to care for my grandson as if he is your own."
She breathed out a small breath, "Your grace, this is too much. An honor not fit for the likes of I."
"And why is that?" He muses, "You've been my Alyssane's assistant for ten years before my beloved met her end. There is none I trust to ensure my kin is raised a true Valyrian." As he exits he gives the girl a youthful grin, "Of course after I've had my fill of my grandson."
He's found his little namesake giggles to be a balm to his sorrows.
"Grab my grandson, I wish to have him near."
Otto blinks at the sight of his grace walking with a nursemaid who carries the infamous Targaryen babe, the one said to cause the god's awful roaring that the dragons of the pit made.
The fools truly think a mere baby's birth would make dragons roar. It was probably the thunder from the storm, the beasts most likely mistaken the thunder for a roar.
Simple creatures, those dragons.
"Your grace?" He starts, but the conciliator speaks before he can.
"Otto! I hear you needed my attention, though it makes me wonder why this couldn't have been done in my chambers," the old man says, the implementation hidden underneath.
Otto himself swallows, fortunately it seems the king ignores his audacity in favor of introducing him to his grandson. The plump woman obediently presented the small babe to him. He feels a civil smile curl on his lips as he takes in the typical Targaryen coloring.
"The prince seems to take after his mother," he noted, with sympathy for the child, his wife had almost passed giving birth to his son Gwayne and he is apprehensive about her current pregnancy, she says it's a girl.
Jaehaerys simply grins proudly.
"If you look closely you can see Alysannes nose and lips." He says wiggling his fingers at the babe while his eyes grow wistful.
"She would have loved to see this."
The king clears his throat and makes his way to the throne, "Now what did you want to discuss?"
Otto glances at the child before clearing his throat, "The trade from Myr for glass has been finalized, we just need to have your approval."
The king stares with Jaehaerys wisen gaze making him feel like he's being read and devoured, "just speak what you are here for, my hand." the king says and he can hear the undertone of the implied threat.
He swallows again, "The guards of Kings Landing have seen the Prince Daemon down in the silk streets, and it seems that he has caused a scene with one of the lords there."
The king merely looks aged, "My Alysanne has a betrothal lined up for him before she passed, I held off because of Alyssa's death, but maybe the boy needs some responsibility to become a man."
"Send a raven to Lord Royce."
"Gah!" They both are startled as the babe chirps, making the king soften his gaze.
As the Nursemaid brings the babe closer at the king's beckoning, he watches in amusement as she warily looks at all the swords, the king unbothered and only focused on his kin takes the babe in his arms and merely starts whispering sweet nothings
"Mayhaps I'll be well enough to take you to my Vermithor." The king muses and even Otto can't help but feel a little respect for the babe, he hasn't seen the king look alight in a long time.
Still, inwardly he ponders on how this new player will affect the game.
Aemma turns her head at the sound of the door opening, and she knows only a few who have the leave to enter without repercussions.
She feels a weak smile grow as she takes in the three-year-old Jaehaerys, named after their grandfather. She has heard gossip from the servants that having another Targaryen with the name Jaehaerys has the kingdom feeling secure. Especially the smallfolk, they have taken to calling the boy a good omen and speak of how the young prince will follow his grandfather and lead them into greatness.
The way the people adore her grandfather and king one would think he was Tesserion among men. The Valyrian god of knowledge and time.
Little Jaehaerys has been something one could see as a constant companion to their grandsire.
She knows that some whisper of the man taking the crown from Viserys and giving it to the boy with how much he dots on the child. She suspects it's because of how much Jaehaerys reminds him, and those who know where to look, of the late Queen Alysanne.
Everyone in the keep could tell the old king uses the child like a lifeline.
On the nights he couldn't sleep as grief took hold of him and he would rather be deprived of sleep than see the continuous nightmare of all his dead children and wife. It's often that one could find him in little Jae's room reading him old Valyrian books. The Kingsguard has had to pester their liege to his bed many times, the boy seems to bring out the youth in all of them.
Aemma breathes through the pain and struggles to sit up as her good brother excitedly waddles up to her bed.
"Aemma!" Little Jaehaerys chirps while slamming into the side of her bed.
His bright eyes peer up at her with so much love that it always steals her breath. She laughs wetly reaching out to cup the delicate face of her good brother. He seems to have a knack for knowing when she or anyone he cares for is to be upset or hurt.
She has come to know little Jaehaerys to be a cuddle bug, especially with her sweet Viserys, her beloved has been so forlorn ever since his father passed. The two older boys of Baelon simply adored their parents, it was bad enough that they lost their mother to childbirth.
Not even the bonding of Belarion could soothe the pain.
"Careful, now." She whispers but is internally greedy as she pulls the boy into her arms and selfishly substitutes him for her baby, just for a moment.
One heartbreaking moment she imagines her boy in place of her cousin, Aemma presses her nose into the silk-like locks while silently weeping for the babe who was never meant to be imagining him hugging her neck.
"'Love you sister." Jaehaerys' voice in broken High Valyrian breaches her grief, like any true Valyrian, they teach their children their mother tongue and common tongue simultaneously.
It's not even four moons later she finds herself pregnant again at the behest and insistence of the maesters, for they need to have an heir to secure their throne, and after a long and delicate pregnancy that Aemma brings forth a daughter.
Much to the chagrin of the men around her who would have preferred a boy.
A/n:
So I named our protagonist after the conciliator… hope that's not too much of a cop out. It's just one of my favorite names of the Targaryens.
Also, I wanted to give aemma some credit for the bullshit she goes through.
I'm still debating on if I want her to stay alive or not.
Because the greens are the easiest way to having a foe, but I adore Aemma.
And I don't like the fics where they make Viserys kick her to the curb. That man would rather burn the throne than divorce Aemma, especially with him being adamant with Rhaenrya being his Heir.
He would never take another wife with her alive.
I have an outline, but it's flexible.
What dragon would you wish to ride if you could tame one?
My answer would be cannibal.
Ps: I'm debating on if the main character should have his own dragon hatched or claims one.
Thoughts?