Chapter 4: Steel and Fire

249 AC, Red Keep

The training sword felt different now than it had a month ago. What had once seemed unwieldy was becoming an extension of my arm, each movement more natural than the last. The morning sun had barely crested the horizon, but I was already in the practice yard, working through the forms Ser Duncan had taught me.

"Mind your footwork, little prince," his deep voice called from where he watched. "Remember - balance before speed."

I adjusted my stance, feeling the familiar ache in my muscles. The past month had fallen into a rhythm - dawn practices with Ser Duncan, breakfast with the family, lessons with Maester Walys, more training, and evenings spent with Rey before starting it all again the next day. The routine helped fill the void left by Tywin and Steffon's departures to their respective homes.

"Better," Ser Duncan approved, moving closer to adjust my grip slightly. "Though your mother won't thank me for having you up at dawn again."

I caught movement from the covered walkway above - Mother and Father watching with familiar worried expressions, Grandmother's dark eyes sharp and assessing, and Grandfather... Grandfather had an odd look on his face, something between pride and recognition.

"He reminds me of someone," I heard him say softly to Grandmother. "Though I can't quite place who."

"Hopefully not Maekar," Grandmother replied dryly. "One warrior prince was quite enough in this family." The unspoken subtext of the tragedy between Breakspear and the Anvil clear in her words.

But I knew who I reminded him of - not Maekar with his mace, but Daemon Blackfyre, The Black Dragon, with his sword. The thought spurred me to push harder, my muscles protesting as I moved through another sequence. Each practice brought me closer to my goal, though I couldn't share it with anyone yet. How could I explain that every swing was preparation for wielding a specific blade - one that had been lost to our family for generations? All thanks to the spite and pettiness of a worthless sack of fat that sullied the Conqueror's name. A wrong I very much intended to put right.

"Aerys," Mother called down, worry clear in her voice. "Sweetling, you've been at this for hours. Surely it's time for a rest?"

"Just a little longer," I called back, not breaking my stance. "Please, Mother? Ser Duncan says I'm improving."

"He certainly is," Ser Duncan confirmed, though I caught the concern in his eyes too. "Though perhaps your mother has a point about pacing yourself, little prince."

I lowered my sword, frustrated despite knowing they meant well. They couldn't understand - how could they? - that this wasn't just about learning swordplay. This was about preparation, about being ready when the time came to reclaim what was lost. Blackfyre wasn't just a sword; it was a symbol of everything that had nearly torn our family apart. And I would bring it home, tear it from the cursed hands of Maelys the Monstrous himself if needed.

"The boy has fire in him," Grandfather observed, his voice carrying clearly in the morning air. "Rather like someone else I remember at that age, eh, Duncan?"

Ser Duncan's weathered face creased with a smile. "As I recall, Your Grace, you were more interested in conking me on the head with sticks than learning proper technique."

"That was different," Grandfather protested, though his eyes twinkled. "I was just a hedge knight's squire then, wasn't I?"

"And now my squire follows in your footsteps," Ser Duncan said warmly, resting a massive hand on my shoulder. The gesture felt significant - a connection between past and present, between the boy who became king and the boy who remembered another life entirely.

"I just want to prove myself worthy," I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "Of the name, of the crown, of the throne, of..." I caught myself before saying 'the sword.' "Of everything."

Something in my tone made them all go quiet. Mother's worried expression softened, while Father's usual fatigue seemed to lift slightly as he studied me with new understanding. Grandmother's sharp gaze grew thoughtful, and Grandfather... Grandfather looked at me as if seeing someone else entirely.

"Come here, my boy," he called down, and there was no refusing a king, even if he was just being a grandfather in that moment.

I climbed the steps to the walkway, suddenly aware of how sweaty and disheveled I must look after hours of practice. But Grandfather didn't seem to mind as he drew me close, his violet eyes - so like my own - studying my face intently.

"Do you know why I chose to live among the smallfolk as a boy?" he asked, his voice pitched for my ears alone.

I shook my head, though of course I knew the story. Everyone did.

"Because I wanted to understand what it meant to rule - truly rule, not just wear a crown. I wanted to be worthy too." His hand was warm on my shoulder. "But worth isn't measured just in sword strokes or battle prowess, Aerys. It's measured in wisdom, in kindness, in understanding."

"But the lords only respect strength," I protested, thinking of all the history I remembered, of how Daeron the Good's peaceful nature and untrained body had been used against him. "They need to see that House Targaryen still has fire in its blood." With father's fragile health making the path of the warrior a practical guarantee to an early grave it fell to me as second in line to the iron throne to not give the lords an excuse to rally behind the remnants of the Blackfyres, otherwise their upcoming rebellion would be much harder to defeat and I could kiss my quest to reclaim Blackfyre goodbye

"Fire takes many forms," Grandmother interjected, her dark eyes keen. "Your grandfather's fire shows in his determination to make life better for all his subjects. Your father's fire burns in his dedication to learning and governance, even when his health would make others rest. And you, my clever boy - you have a fire all your own."

"But I need to be stronger," I insisted. "I need to be ready for..." I trailed off, not sure how to explain without revealing too much.

"Ready for what, sweetling?" Mother asked gently, brushing my sweat-dampened hair back from my face.

I looked up at them - my family in this new life, each carrying their own burdens and dreams. How could I tell them that I remembered another world, another life? That I knew what challenges lay ahead and was desperately trying to prepare for them?

"For whatever comes," I said finally. "For whatever I need to be."

Grandfather's expression shifted then, something like recognition flickering in his eyes. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "when I was your age, I thought I needed to be ready for everything too. Took me years to realize that sometimes the best preparation is simply being true to who you are."

"And who am I?" I asked, the question carrying more weight than they could know.

"You're my grandson," he said simply. "A dragon with a warm heart and a sharp mind. Whatever else you become - warrior, scholar, king - will grow from that foundation." He glanced at Ser Duncan, something passing between them that spoke of years of friendship and shared understanding. "Though perhaps we can find a balance between preparation and pushing yourself too hard?"

I wanted to protest, to explain that there wasn't time for balance - not with everything I knew was coming. But looking at their concerned faces, I realized that maybe this was part of being worthy too - learning when to push and when to rest, when to fight and when to yield.

"Yes, Grandfather," I conceded. "Though... may I finish my lesson with Ser Duncan first?"

He laughed then, rich and warm. "Of course. But afterward, I believe your sister has been asking for you. Something about promised dragon stories?"

The mention of Rey brought a smile to my face despite my fatigue. "She likes the one about Balerion best," I admitted. "Though she always asks why he was black instead of silver like her toy dragon."

"Then perhaps that's where your fire is needed most right now," Mother suggested gently. "In being a brother before being a warrior."

As I returned to the practice yard, Ser Duncan's steady presence beside me, I found myself thinking about fire and worth and the many forms both could take. The weight of the training sword felt different now - not just a tool for future battles, but a reminder of all the different kinds of strength I would need to gather.

"Ready to continue, little prince?" Ser Duncan asked, his kind eyes understanding more than I'd realized. The morning sun had risen higher now, casting long shadows across the practice yard.

I nodded, settling into my stance with new purpose, trying to find that balance Grandfather had spoken of. "Ready."

We spent the next hour working through various forms, Duncan correcting my posture and grip with gentle patience. Though my muscles burned, I pushed through each movement, determined to improve. Yet I noticed how Duncan's attention seemed divided, his gaze occasionally drifting to the castle walls and the city beyond.

Finally, after I'd completed a particularly challenging sequence, he lowered his practice sword. "Your form is improving," he said thoughtfully, "but there's something missing in your understanding."

"What do you mean?" I asked, wiping sweat from my brow. "I'm following all the steps exactly as you showed me."

Duncan leaned on his sword, his weathered face contemplative. "The sword is just a tool, little prince. To truly master it, you need to understand why you're wielding it." He paused, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. "You know, there's more to being worthy than just mastering the sword."

"Like what?" I asked, genuinely curious. Despite his usually stoic demeanor, there was something in his tone that suggested he had more in mind. I'd rarely heard him speak so openly, usually seeing only his formal Kingsguard persona.

"Like understanding the people you'll one day rule." He glanced toward the walls of the Red Keep, then back to me. "Your grandfather spent years among the common folk when he was young. Learned more about leadership there than he ever did in any castle."

The mention of Grandfather's adventures with Duncan stirred something in me. I'd read about their travels in my previous life, but hearing about them firsthand was different. "Did it really help him become a better king?"

"Better king, better man." Duncan's eyes grew distant with memory. "Egg - your grandfather - he saw things differently after living among the smallfolk. Understood their struggles, their hopes." He focused on me again, a slight smile playing at his lips. "You remind me of him sometimes. That look you get when you're thinking about more than just what's in front of you."

My heart quickened at his words. "I want to see it," I said impulsively. "The city, I mean. Not just from the walls or during processions, but really see it."

Duncan studied me for a long moment, and I could almost see him weighing the decision. "It would be dangerous," he said slowly. "If anyone recognized you..."

"Then we'll make sure they don't," I countered eagerly. "Please, Ser Duncan? I need to understand what's out there beyond these walls like Grandfather did, it would help me understand my people, become a great man and a great king."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Your mother would have my head." But there was a glimmer in his eye that reminded me of the stories - the hedge knight who'd once helped a disguised prince explore the realm. "Though I suppose what she doesn't know won't hurt her. For a few hours, at least."

Within moments, he'd procured simple clothes for me - rough spun wool instead of silk, brown instead of Targaryen black and red. My silver-gold hair was hidden under a cap, and a bit of dirt smudged across my face completed the transformation.

"Remember," Duncan cautioned as we slipped out through a small postern gate he knew, "you're just a squire today. My nephew, visiting from... let's say Tumbleton. Keep your head down and let me do any talking if we're questioned."

The first thing that hit me was the smell - not the careful gardens of the Red Keep, but the raw, honest stink of a medieval city. Fish from the harbor, smoke from the forges, the earthy scent of horses and humanity all mixed together. It was overwhelming at first, but there was something real about it that the sanitized castle life lacked.

We started in the area near the Dragon Gate, where the Street of Steel rang with the sound of hammers on anvils. The armorers and blacksmiths barely glanced at us - just another knight and his squire looking at wares. But I saw things I'd never noticed from horseback during processions: apprentices hauling water for the forges, children running messages between shops, old men carefully polishing finished pieces.

"Your grandfather once bought a helm here," Duncan mentioned casually as we passed a particularly well-appointed shop. "Horrible thing, covered in wings and horns. Looked like a chicken had nested on his head."

The mental image made me laugh, though I quickly stifled it when a passing gold cloak glanced our way. The City Watch member's gaze lingered on Duncan's impressive height, but he seemed uninterested in yet another tall knight among the many who visited the Street of Steel.

As we moved toward the River Gate and the fish market, I noticed something that made my blood boil. A gold cloak was accepting what was clearly a bribe from a merchant, tucking the coins away before conveniently walking away from what looked like smuggled goods.

"You see it too," Duncan noted quietly, catching my expression. "It's been a problem since long before your grandfather took the throne. The City Watch serves whoever pays them best."

"It's wrong," I said, keeping my voice low but unable to hide my anger. "They're supposed to protect people, not profit from them."

"Aye, it is wrong. But changing it isn't as simple as giving orders from up high. Men with empty bellies and hungry children at home will always be tempted by easy silver." There was no judgment in his voice, just sad understanding. "Your grandfather's tried raising their pay, implementing stricter oversight. But old habits die hard."

We continued through the winding streets, past the Sept of Baelor where the faithful gathered to pray, through the markets where vendors hawked everything from fresh bread to exotic spices from across the Narrow Sea. I saw things that would never be visible from the high windows of the Red Keep: a woman teaching her daughter to mend clothes, children playing knights with sticks for swords, old men arguing politics over cups of sour wine.

Near Flea Bottom, we witnessed something that made my modern sensibilities rage. A man had a young woman trapped against the piss-stained wall of an alley, his dirty hands grabbing at her worn dress while she tried to fight him off. The stench of unwashed bodies and rotting garbage filled the narrow space between the buildings.

"C'mere ya stupid cow," he slurred, breath reeking of sour wine and rotting teeth. "Saw ya makin' eyes at me, din't ya? Actin' all high 'n mighty but I knows what ya really want."

"Get yer filthy 'ands off me!" the woman snarled, clawing at his face. Her nails left red streaks across his cheek. "I works fer Master Lothar, ya drunken sack o' shit! I ain't one of yer Street o' Silk whores!"

Before Duncan could stop me, I stepped forward. Every instinct from my previous life screamed that this was wrong, that you don't stand by while someone is being attacked. "Take your hands off her," I called out, trying to sound braver than I felt.

The drunk whirled around, nearly falling over his own feet. "Fuck off, ya little rat," he spat through blackened teeth. "Less ya want yer teeth kicked down yer throat. Ain't none of yer business what me 'n this fine lady's doin'."

"She said no," I shot back, heart pounding but voice steady. "Back away, or you'll answer to the King himself." My proper speech sounded jarringly out of place among the crude accents of Flea Bottom.

Duncan moved closer, his massive shadow falling over us all. The drunk's bloodshot eyes went wide as he took in the knight's towering height and the sword at his hip.

"Seven fuckin' 'ells," he mumbled, staggering backward. "'M just 'avin a bit o' fun with the lady, weren't I? No need fer swords an' such."

The woman yanked her dress straight and spat right in the drunk's face before darting past us. "Hope yer cock rots off, ya pig!" she shouted over her shoulder as she disappeared down the twisting street.

Once she was safely gone, Duncan placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. I could feel the slight tremor in his fingers - not from fear, but from restraining himself from teaching the drunk a harsher lesson.

"Brave," he said quietly, "but risky. What if he'd had friends nearby?"

"I couldn't just watch," I replied, still trembling with adrenaline and rage. "It wasn't right."

Duncan's expression softened as he watched the woman disappear down the twisting alley. "No, it wasn't right. And that's exactly what your grandfather would have done at your age." He squeezed my shoulder gently. "Though perhaps next time let me handle any confrontations? You may have the heart of a knight already, but you're still small enough to be used as a practice sword."

As we made our way back toward the Red Keep, I found myself seeing the city with new eyes. The poverty of Flea Bottom, the corruption of the Gold Cloaks, the daily struggles of the common people - these weren't just abstract problems to be solved from a throne room. They were real people with real lives, all trying to make their way in a harsh world.

"Look at how they're all packed together," I said, gesturing to the cramped buildings leaning against each other like drunk men. "There's space beyond the walls. We could build there - expand the city properly, with planned streets and proper sewers."

Duncan glanced down at me with interest. "The city walls provide protection. People feel safer inside them."

"Then we build new walls," I replied, the ideas flowing faster now. In my mind, I could see it - concentric rings of expansion, each properly planned before construction began. "Do it in stages. The city's choking itself, trying to fit everyone in the same space it had a hundred years ago."

"Your grandfather had similar thoughts," Duncan said carefully. "Wanted to tear down the worst parts of Flea Bottom, build new homes with proper sewers and wells. The resistance came from unexpected places - building owners, septons, even the people he was trying to help."

"Because they didn't understand what he was trying to do?"

"Because they understood exactly what he was trying to do," Duncan corrected. "The building owners saw their profits threatened. The septons worried about losing influence if their flocks moved away from the old septs. And the people..." He shook his head. "Well, better the misery you know than the uncertainty you don't."

I thought about the bribe I'd seen earlier, about the drunk in the alley. "The Gold Cloaks need to change too. They're supposed to protect people, not prey on them."

"Your grandfather raised their pay three times," Duncan noted. "Each time, they just demanded more bribes on top of it."

"Then we change how they're chosen, how they're trained. Make it an honor to serve, not just a job." I was warming to the topic now. "And education - if people could read, write, learn trades... they'd have real chances to improve their lives."

"Slow down, little prince," Duncan chuckled, though his eyes were serious. "You're starting to sound exactly like Egg in his youth. The fire's good - gods know we need that fire - but let me tell you what worked and what didn't."

We stopped at a small square, where children played in the mud while their mothers washed clothes in a communal trough.

"The smaller changes worked best," Duncan explained. "Improving individual streets, building new wells one at a time - that people accepted. The same with education. The grand academy your grandfather dreamed of never happened, but he convinced the septons to teach more children in their existing schools."

"That seems so slow," I protested.

"It is slow. But forcing change too quickly can make things worse. Your grandfather once ordered a section of Flea Bottom demolished for new housing. The construction took longer than planned, cost more than expected. People who lived there had nowhere to go. Some died that winter, sleeping in the streets."

The words hit me hard, reminding me of similar failures from my old life - well-intentioned urban renewal projects that had ended up hurting the people they were meant to help.

"Exactly." Duncan's voice was warm with approval. "Keep that wisdom, little prince. It will serve you well." He glanced at the position of the sun. "Though perhaps we should keep today's adventure between ourselves? No need to worry your mother unnecessarily."

I nodded, grateful for both the experience and his discretion. The morning's sword practice felt like it had happened days ago, yet the lessons learned in the city streets seemed just as valuable as any martial training.

Slipping through the servant's entrance, I made my way toward my chambers, hoping to wash the dirt from my face before anyone noticed. But fate had other plans.

"Aeys!" Rey's familiar voice rang out just as I reached the corridor leading to my room. I turned to find her hurrying toward me, her silver-gold curls bouncing with each step. Behind her came our cousin Aemon, his Targaryen eyes striking against his mother Jenny's red-gold hair.

"Where were you?" Rey demanded, grabbing my hand. "We looked everywhere! Even in the dragon skull room!"

"Sorry, little dragon," I said, trying to angle my face away so she wouldn't notice the dirt. "I was just..."

"You're all dirty," Aemon observed with the brutal honesty of a four-year-old. "Like when Father took me to see the horses."

Rey's eyes widened with interest. "Did you go outside? Without guards? Mother says that's not allowed!"

"Shh," I hushed them both quickly, glancing around the empty corridor. Then, struck by inspiration, I grinned. "How about we go to the godswood? I know some games that are much more fun than looking for me."

Their eyes lit up immediately. The godswood was one of the few places in the Red Keep where children could play freely without too many watchful eyes. The old gods might keep watch through their heart tree, but they never scolded anyone for being too loud or getting dirty.

"What kind of games?" Rey asked, already tugging me toward the nearest exit. Her wooden dragon bounced against her side, secured by a ribbon she'd tied to her dress.

"Special ones," I promised, letting her pull me along while Aemon skipped beside us. "Games I learned... in a dream." It wasn't exactly a lie - my memories of my past life often felt like dreams now, especially the simple childhood games I'd once played.

The godswood was peaceful in the afternoon light, shadows dappling the ground beneath the ancient trees. The heart tree's face seemed to smile as we approached, its red leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. This was one of the few places in the Red Keep that felt truly timeless, unchanged by the politics and schemes that filled the rest of the castle.

"First," I announced, adopting an official tone that made both children giggle, "we're going to play a game called Hide and Seek. One person closes their eyes and counts while everyone else hides. Then they have to find us!"

"Like hunting?" Aemon asked eagerly. His father had recently started teaching him about tracking, though at four, the lessons mostly involved following obviously placed footprints in the castle gardens.

"Sort of," I agreed, "but no one gets caught really. And when the seeker gets close, the hiders can run to the safe spot - we'll make it the heart tree - before they're found."

"I want to hide first!" Rey declared, already eyeing potential hiding spots among the trees and bushes.

"Alright," I said, "I'll seek first. I'll count to twenty - that means both hands worth of fingers twice - and you have to be hidden before I finish."

"Both hands twice," Aemon repeated seriously, holding up his own small hands to demonstrate. "Come on, Rey!"

I turned to face the heart tree, covering my eyes with my hands. "One... two... three..." I could hear them scampering away, Rey's muffled giggles and Aemon's attempts to shush her making me smile. This was so different from the careful, formal plays they were usually taught - the structured games of lords and ladies that filled most of their days.

When I reached twenty and turned around, the godswood seemed empty at first glance. But a flutter of movement caught my eye - the edge of Rey's dress visible behind a bush. I pretended not to notice, making a show of looking in completely wrong directions.

"Hmm," I said loudly, "I wonder where they could be? Perhaps behind this tree?" I checked an obvious empty spot, earning more muffled giggles. "No, not there. Maybe under these leaves?"

I gradually worked my way closer to Rey's hiding spot, giving her plenty of time to realize I was coming. Sure enough, just as I was about to "discover" her, she burst from behind the bush with a shriek of laughter, running full tilt toward the heart tree.

"Safe!" she yelled, slapping her hands against the white bark. Her face was flushed with excitement, silver-gold curls wild around her face.

"Ah, but I still have to find Aemon," I reminded her, turning to scan the godswood again. This time I genuinely wasn't sure where he was - he'd proven to be surprisingly stealthy for a four-year-old.

A tiny sneeze from above made us both look up. Aemon had somehow managed to climb partway up one of the smaller trees, his red-gold hair blending with the autumn leaves. He grinned down at us, inordinately pleased with himself.

"How did you get up there?" Rey demanded, impressed and slightly jealous.

"Father showed me," Aemon said proudly. "He says Sometimes we need to see things from above to understand them better."

The wisdom in those words, probably repeated without full understanding, made me pause. It sounded like something Uncle Duncan would say - he'd grown more philosophical since marrying Jenny, more inclined to see the deeper meanings in simple things.

"Well, now you have to get down," I pointed out, moving closer in case he needed help. "And it's your turn to seek!"

We played several rounds, each child getting multiple chances to both hide and seek. I taught them variations - frozen tag, where the person who was "it" could freeze people in place until another player tagged them free; red rover, though with just three of us it was more about running and dodging than breaking through lines; and duck-duck-goose, which had them both shrieking with laughter as we chased each other in circles.

As the afternoon wore on, we collapsed in the soft grass beneath the heart tree, pleasantly exhausted. Rey curled against my side, her wooden dragon clutched to her chest, while Aemon sprawled on his back, watching the red leaves dance overhead.

"I like these games," Rey declared sleepily. "More fun than sitting with Septa Meryll and learning about proper ladies and how to be one."

"Your lessons?" I asked sympathetically, remembering how she'd pouted through yesterday's session about table manners.

She nodded, hugging her dragon closer. "Have to sit so still and remember not to reach across the table. But I'd rather play like this."

"Those lessons are important too," I said, though I silently agreed that the strict etiquette they taught noble children seemed excessive for one so young. "But everyone needs time to just play."

"Father says that too," Aemon contributed, rolling onto his stomach to face us. "He says that's why he and Mother like Summerhall so much - because there's room to run and play without everyone watching all the time."

I felt Rey stiffen slightly at the mention of Summerhall, and I understood why. The ongoing tension between our mother and Uncle Duncan over the castle had affected all of us, even if the adults thought we didn't notice.

As if summoned by our thoughts, voices drifted through the trees - Uncle Duncan and Mother, their tones civil but reserved.

"...beautiful in autumn," Uncle Duncan was saying as they came into view. "Jenny says the hills around Summerhall turn all colors of fire when the leaves change."

"I'm sure they do," Mother replied carefully. "Though Father has always said the view from the Red Keep's gardens is unmatched this time of year."

They both stopped short when they spotted us beneath the heart tree, their diplomatic masks softening at the sight of their children together.

"There you are," Mother said, taking in our disheveled state with a mix of resignation and amusement. Her violet eyes swept over our grass-stained clothes and messy hair. "I might have known you'd all end up in the godswood."

"We were playing new games!" Rey announced, bouncing up from the grass with renewed energy despite her obvious tiredness. Her silver-gold curls were tangled with leaves, and her dress had definitely seen better days. "Aeys taught us how to seek and hide, and how to chase without catching, and-"

"And how to get thoroughly covered in grass stains, I see," Mother observed, though her lips twitched with a suppressed smile. She knelt to brush some dirt from Rey's cheek. "I believe this dress may be beyond even the laundresses' skills."

Uncle Duncan moved closer, his eyes warming as he looked at Aemon. My cousin was fighting to stay awake, his red-gold curls a stark contrast to the green grass he lay upon. "Having fun, little one?"

Aemon nodded sleepily, reaching for his father with heavy arms. "Aeys knows the best games," he mumbled as Uncle Duncan scooped him up. "We played like the smallfolk children do."

I noticed Mother's slight tension at those words, but she masked it quickly. "We should get them inside," she suggested, watching as Rey stumbled slightly, exhaustion finally catching up with her excitement. "It's nearly time for supper, and they could all use a wash before eating."

"Want to stay with Aeys," Rey insisted when Mother reached for her, grabbing my hand with surprising strength. Her wooden dragon swung from its ribbon, bouncing against her skirts.

"You'll see him at supper," Mother assured her, but Rey's lower lip began to tremble. I squeezed her hand gently, and she seemed to take comfort in the gesture.

We made our way back together, Mother keeping a watchful eye on Rey's tired steps while Uncle Duncan carried a now-sleeping Aemon. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the garden path, and the sound of approaching voices made us pause.

"There they are," came Grandfather's warm voice. He and Grandmother were approaching from the direction of the Small Council chamber, their expressions shifting from serious deliberation to gentle amusement. The golden crown sat easily on Grandfather's brow, though I knew he often removed it in private moments like these.

"What's this then?" Grandmother asked, her dark eyes taking in our disheveled state. Despite her attempt at sternness, I could see the warmth in her gaze. She'd always encouraged us to play, even if it meant more work for the servants. "Have the gardens been hosting a tourney we weren't informed about?"

"Grandfather! Grandmother!" Rey brightened immediately, though she kept her firm grip on my hand. "We were playing the most wonderful games! Not like the ones Septa teaches - real games, fun ones!"

"Real games, you say?" Grandfather knelt to her level, his fine clothes brushing the garden path. The gesture reminded me of stories I'd heard about his time among the smallfolk - how he'd never stood on ceremony when it came to connecting with people. "And where did these real games come from?"

His violet eyes met mine over Rey's head, and I recognized that penetrating look. It was the same one he wore in Small Council meetings when he knew someone wasn't telling the whole truth. Grandfather had always had a knack for seeing through pretense.

"Aeys taught us!" Rey continued excitedly, apparently immune to exhaustion in the presence of our grandparents. "We played hide and seek, and tag, and - and -" she yawned hugely, "- and lots of running games!"

"Simple games," I explained carefully, watching Grandfather's expression. "The kind that any children might play, if given the chance." I emphasized the last part slightly, knowing his feelings about the divide between nobles and smallfolk.

"Indeed," Grandfather said thoughtfully. "Though I wonder where you learned such games, grandson? Not from your usual lessons, I'd wager." His tone was gentle but probing, reminding me that he hadn't earned his reputation for wisdom by missing details.

Before I could formulate a response, Grandmother intervened with her usual practical manner. "Well, wherever the games came from, they've certainly done their work. Look at the state of these children - even Aemon's managed to get leaves in his hair while sleeping!"

Uncle Duncan shifted his son's weight, smiling down at Aemon's peaceful face. "He'll sleep well tonight, that's certain."

We made our way into the castle together, our group growing larger as we approached the family's private solar. The late afternoon sun streamed through the high windows, filling the room with warm golden light. Father and Aunt Jenny were already there, their quiet conversation pausing as we entered.

"So this is where our missing family has gone," Father said with a smile, rising from his seat. His eyes moved between Mother and Uncle Duncan, noting their careful distance, before settling on us children. "Though I hardly recognize these little wild things you've brought back with you."

"They've been playing children's games in the godswood," Grandfather explained, settling into his favorite chair by the fire. He fixed me with another knowing look. "Games that Aerys has somehow learned, though I don't recall them being part of any maester's lessons."

"Children's games?" Aunt Jenny's dreamy smile brightened as she moved to take Aemon from Uncle Duncan. "The old ways are best for young hearts. The gods smile on children at play, you know."

I caught an almost imperceptible exchange of glances between Father and Grandfather at her words. Aunt Jenny's otherworldly observations often carried more weight than people expected.

"And what inspired these particular games?" Grandfather asked me directly, his tone gentle but firm. "They seem rather... familiar to me, from my own travels."

I met his gaze, understanding the real question. He wanted to know if I truly understood what I was doing - teaching highborn children the games of common folk, breaking down those invisible barriers that separated the nobles from their people.

"I thought," I said carefully, "that sometimes the simplest games are the best ones. Games that don't need special toys or complicated rules. Games that any child could play, whether they live in a castle or..." I trailed off meaningfully.

Grandfather's eyes crinkled at the corners. "Whether they live in a castle or a hedge knight's camp?" he finished softly. "Yes, I believe I understand perfectly, grandson."

"The children certainly seem to have enjoyed themselves," Father observed, helping Mother settle Rey onto a cushioned bench. "Though perhaps next time with slightly less enthusiasm for the mud?"

"The best games always leave a little dirt behind," Aunt Jenny said with her usual dreamy wisdom, earning a surprised laugh from Grandmother.

"Well, these little dragons need baths before supper," Mother decided, already signaling for the nursemaids. "Rey can barely keep her eyes open."

"Watch my dragon dance!" Rey exclaimed, making her wooden toy swoop and twirl through the air. Her silver-gold curls bounced as she spun in circles, demonstrating what she clearly thought was the proper way dragons should move. "See, Grandfather? She's practicing her special moves!"

"I see your dragon has quite the talent for dancing," Grandfather said, his eyes meeting mine with understanding. He knew exactly what I was trying to do with these games, teaching the kind of play that crossed all social boundaries. In his violet eyes, I saw the same warmth that appeared whenever he spoke of his own childhood adventures among the common folk.

The sound of rustling skirts announced the arrival of the nursemaids, and I felt my stomach tighten with familiar dread. Even after five years, I still hadn't gotten used to this particular medieval custom. Old Marta led the group, her grey-streaked hair tucked neatly beneath her cap, followed by young Beth with her kind smile and Serra whose quick eyes missed nothing. They moved with the efficient grace of women who had spent years herding reluctant children toward baths and bedtimes.

"Come along now, little dragons," Marta called out, her weathered hands already reaching for Rey. "Bath time before supper."

"But my dragon's not finished dancing!" Rey protested, clutching her beloved toy closer as she twirled away from Marta's reach. "She's showing everyone her flying spins!" She demonstrated with another elaborate swooping motion, completely absorbed in her game.

"I can bathe myself," I protested immediately, trying to edge away from Serra's approaching form. The thought of being scrubbed like a child made me cringe. In my previous life, I'd been bathing independently since I was eight - the memory of that simple independence making this forced helplessness even more frustrating. "I'm old enough now, aren't I?"

"Now, now," Beth soothed, though she was clearly fighting back a smile at my attempted escape. "We've heard that one before, my prince. Remember last time you said that? You missed half the dirt and fell asleep in your clothes."

That had been deliberate, actually - an attempt to prove I could handle my own bathing that had backfired spectacularly. Mother had been thoroughly unimpressed with my "forgotten" patches of dirt.

Serra had already gathered up Aemon, who was rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. "Someone's had quite the adventure in the garden, hasn't he?" she said fondly, brushing leaves from his red-gold curls.

I noticed the adults exchanging amused glances as we were corralled toward the door - my obvious discomfort with bath time had become something of a family joke, though they couldn't understand the real reason behind it. Even Mother's earlier worry had mellowed into something gentler as she watched my increasingly desperate attempts to negotiate my way out of supervised bathing.

"Shall we all dine together once the children are cleaned up?" Father suggested carefully, looking around the room. The question carried more weight than its simple words might suggest - family meals had become rarer since Uncle Daeron's departure to Dragonstone.

There was a brief pause before Uncle Duncan nodded. "That would be nice," he said simply. Aunt Jenny's hand found his, her gentle presence seeming to ease whatever weight he carried. The serenity in her dreamy smile spoke of old gods and ancient magic, but also of simpler things - family, love, forgiveness.

"I really can wash myself properly this time," I tried again as we made our way to the bath chambers. "I'm practically five and a half now..."

"Five and a half or fifty," Marta replied firmly, "you're not getting out of a proper scrubbing after whatever adventures you've been having today, my prince. Look at this dirt! It's like you've been rolling in the streets themselves."

If she only knew how close to the truth that was. Rey, traitor that she was, giggled at my predicament. "Aeys all dirty," she declared with obvious delight. "Like a muddy dragon!"

"At least someone's enjoying this," I muttered, earning another burst of giggles from my sister.

The journey to the bath chambers seemed far too short. Rey alternated between dragging her feet and skipping ahead, while Aemon kept stopping to examine every interesting shadow on the walls. I, meanwhile, was still trying to negotiate my way out of what was coming.

"I could just wash the visible parts," I suggested hopefully. "The parts that show at dinner?"

"Nice try, my prince," Serra laughed. "But I saw that dirt behind your ears earlier. Only a proper bath will do."

"Just look at these grass stains," Marta clucked, eyeing Rey's once-pristine dress. "And you, my prince - I don't even want to know how you managed to get dirt in your hair. Reminds me of when your mother was small, always coming in covered in who knows what..."

"Mother got dirty too?" Rey perked up at this revelation, momentarily distracted from my plight.

"Oh yes," Beth laughed, steadying Rey as she nearly tripped over her own feet. "Though she was usually chasing after your Uncle Duncan with wooden swords. The number of dresses I had to mend..."

The bath chamber was already warm and steam-filled when we arrived, three copper tubs waiting with gently steaming water. I eyed them with the same enthusiasm I might have shown for a pit of snakes. The nursemaids worked quickly, efficiently stripping Rey and Aemon of their dirty clothes despite Rey's token protests and Aemon's attempts to explain why frogs needed to be caught before bath time.

"I can undress myself," I insisted, backing away from Marta's experienced hands. Some things were just too much for my adult sensibilities to handle, even after five years in this new life. "Please? I'll do it properly, I promise."

Marta sighed but stepped back. "Very well, my prince. But make haste - the water's getting cold."

I managed to undress myself with as much dignity as I could muster, though it took longer than if I'd just let them help. The buttons on medieval clothing were still frustratingly difficult for small fingers, but I'd rather struggle than endure the indignity of being undressed like a doll.

The nursemaids practically had to drag me to the bath, their grip gentle but inexorable as they guided me into the warm water. Rey found my obvious discomfort hilarious, splashing cheerfully in her own tub while I endured Serra's determined assault on the dirt behind my ears.

"If you'd just hold still," Serra sighed as I tried to squirm away from the washcloth, "this would go much faster."

"I can reach my own ears," I protested, but it was futile. Rey's giggles from the next tub over told me exactly how successful my attempts at dignity were.

"Aeys funny," she declared, splashing more water as her own nursemaid attempted to wash her silver-gold curls. Her wooden dragon had been carefully placed on a nearby stool, safely out of splash range but still within her sight. "Don't like bath!"

"Very funny," Aemon agreed from his tub, his red-gold hair darkened to copper by the water. "Like when Father tries to avoid his bath at Summerhall!"

That revelation made me pause in my squirming. "Uncle Duncan tries to avoid baths too?"

"Oh yes," Beth laughed, working soap through Rey's curls. "Some things run in the family, it seems."

Finally, after what felt like hours of scrubbing but was probably only minutes, we were deemed clean enough for dinner. The nursemaids helped Rey and Aemon from their tubs, but I insisted on climbing out myself - though I did accept the offered towel with as much grace as I could muster.

Once we were properly dried and dressed in fresh clothes, they led us to the family's private dining room in the royal chambers. The familiar space felt warmer and more intimate than the great hall, with its tapestries of dragons in flight and tall windows overlooking the city below. Candlelight caught the silver-gold hair of my family as we gathered around the table, though one chair remained conspicuously empty - Uncle Daeron's usual spot by the window serving as a quiet reminder of his absence at Dragonstone.

Grandfather sat at the head of the table, looking relaxed and at ease as he always did during family dinners. Grandmother took her place at his right, her dark eyes missing nothing as they swept over us. Mother and Father sat in their usual spots, with Rey insisting on squeezing between them. Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny sat across from us, little Aemon settled between them with his wooden blocks.

Ser Duncan the Tall stood guard near the door with two other Kingsguard members, his massive frame a comforting presence rather than an imposing one. When he caught my eye, I could see him fighting back a smile, no doubt remembering our adventure in the city.

"Well," Grandfather said as servants began bringing in the first course, "I hear it's been quite an eventful day for some of us." His violet eyes, so like my own, held a knowing gleam that made my stomach flip.

Rey perked up immediately beside me. "Aeys was all dirty when he came back! Like he fell in mud but there's no mud in the castle and—"

"Snitch," I muttered under my breath, giving her a betrayed look. "Snitches get stitches."

"What's a snitch?" Rey asked curiously, while the adults exchanged puzzled glances at the unfamiliar term. I silently cursed my slip – some phrases from my old life still came too naturally.

"Nothing," I said quickly, suddenly finding my soup fascinating.

"Aerys," Mother's voice held that warning note I was becoming very familiar with. "Where exactly did you go today that got you so dirty?"

"Yes, do tell us," Grandmother added, though I caught the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth that betrayed her amusement.

Before I could formulate a response, Grandfather cleared his throat. "Lord Darklyn's whispers tell me a certain tall knight was seen leading a small boy through the Streets of Steel this morning. A boy with suspiciously silver-gold hair peeking out from under a cap."

I heard Mother's spoon clatter against her bowl. "Ser Duncan!" she exclaimed, turning to fix the Kingsguard knight with an accusing stare. "You took my son into the city? Without guards? Without telling anyone?"

I watched Ser Duncan's face remain carefully neutral, though his eyes danced with barely suppressed mirth. "I'm not sure what you mean, Princess. I was merely performing my usual duties of protecting the royal family."

"By smuggling the heir of the crown prince out of the castle?" Father asked, though I could hear more amusement than anger in his voice.

"Now, now," Grandfather intervened, his voice warm with memory. "Let's not be too harsh on old Duncan. As I recall, he once had quite the adventure with another young prince who wanted to see the city."

"That was different, Father," Mother protested. "You were nearly ten, and—"

"And just as reckless," Grandfather corrected gently. "Though perhaps you're right - I was older. Which makes me even more impressed that Aerys had the sense to bring the Lord Commander with him, while I simply ran off on my own."

"Want to see city too!" Rey declared, bouncing between our parents. "Can I go with Aeys next time?"

"There won't be a next time," Mother said firmly, though Grandfather's chuckle suggested he might have other ideas.

"The boy has a right to know his people," Ser Duncan spoke up finally. "Just as his grandfather did. And I must say, he handled himself remarkably well. Even stood up to a drunk who was bothering a woman."

I watched Mother's face go pale while Father leaned forward with interest. Not exactly how I'd planned for them to learn about that particular incident.

"Perhaps we could focus on the more appropriate parts of the adventure," Grandfather suggested diplomatically. "Like what you learned from your expedition, grandson?"

Meeting his encouraging gaze, I decided honesty was the best approach. "The city needs better sewers," I said seriously. "And the Gold Cloaks take bribes. And the Street of Steel is really loud but interesting. And there should be more wells in Flea Bottom."

A surprised silence fell over the table, broken only by Rey's continued splashing of her spoon in her soup.

"Well," Grandmother said finally, "he certainly inherited your eye for infrastructure, Egg."

"And your tendency to find trouble," Aunt Jenny added dreamily, helping Aemon with his spoon. "Though the old gods say trouble often finds those who need to learn from it."

"I just wanted to understand the smallfolk," I explained, looking between my parents' concerned faces. "Like in Grandfather's stories about when he was young."

"The stories where he constantly worried his own parents half to death?" Mother pointed out, but I could see her expression softening slightly.

"Come now, Shaera," Uncle Duncan intervened, grinning. "We all had our adventures. Or have you forgotten the time you and Jaehaerys—"

"That's quite enough of that," Father cut in hastily, though his lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

"I seem to recall," Grandfather mused, accepting a fresh plate from a servant, "a certain young princess who once tried to climb the Iron Throne because she was convinced a dragon egg was hidden in it."

I watched with fascination as Mother's cheeks flushed pink. "Father!"

"Oh yes," Grandmother's eyes sparkled with mischief. "You tore your best dress and scared poor Ser Duncan half to death when he found you dangling from one of the swords."

"Is that why you always tell me not to climb it?" Rey asked innocently, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

As the evening wore on and Rey began to nod off against Father's shoulder, I watched Grandfather gesture for Ser Duncan to come closer.

"Tell me truthfully, old friend," he said, though his eyes twinkled, "did you see anything of that skinny squire I once was in our young adventurer today?"

Ser Duncan's weathered face creased with a fond smile. "He has your heart, Egg. Though thankfully, he seems to have inherited a bit more sense than you had at his age."

"I had plenty of sense," Grandfather protested. "I just chose not to use it most of the time."

"Like grandfather, like grandson," Grandmother observed dryly. "Though I do hope, Aerys, that you'll consider taking more guards with you next time you feel the need to explore. For your mother's peace of mind, if nothing else."

"Next time?" Mother raised an eyebrow.

"He's your son, Shaera," Grandfather said gently. "And my grandson. Did you really think one scolding would stop him from wanting to understand his people?"

I watched Mother look at Father, who shrugged helplessly. "He has a point, my love. Though perhaps we could establish some ground rules?"

"Like having to tell us first?" Mother suggested.

"And taking more than just Ser Duncan," Father added.

"And letting me come too!" Rey piped up, apparently not as sleepy as she'd appeared.

"When you're older, sweetling," Mother assured her. "Much, much older."

As everyone began to rise from the table, Grandfather held me back for a moment. "You did well today," he said quietly. "Seeing the city as it really is, standing up for those who needed help - that's what being a prince should mean. Though perhaps next time, try not to worry your mother quite so much?"

I nodded solemnly, though I couldn't quite hide my smile. "Yes, Grandfather."

"Good lad," he ruffled my hair affectionately. "Now, I believe it's time for little dragons to be in bed. Tomorrow's another day for adventures - hopefully slightly less worrying ones."

As we left the dining room, Ser Duncan falling into step behind us, I heard Grandfather murmur to Grandmother, "He reminds me so much of myself at that age, Betha. All that fire to understand the world..."

"Let's just hope he doesn't decide to join any hedge knights," Grandmother replied dryly, but her voice was warm with affection.

"Sleep well, little troublemaker," Ser Duncan called after me with a wink. "Try to stay inside the castle walls tomorrow, eh?"

"No promises," I called back cheekily, earning another exasperated sigh from Mother and a poorly hidden smile from Father.

As I was tucked into bed that night, with Rey already fast asleep in her own bed nearby, I couldn't help but feel that despite all the scolding, it had been a perfect day.

Lessons with Maester Walys took place in his study, a circular room filled with books, scrolls, and the comforting scent of old parchment and ink. Rey sat beside me at the large oak table, her legs swinging beneath her chair as she carefully traced her letters. Aemon was on my other side, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration as he worked on his own slate.

But my attention was elsewhere. The blank parchment before me had transformed into something far more interesting than the basic arithmetic Maester Walys was explaining to Rey and Aemon. My quill moved almost of its own accord, sketching the sleek lines of a ship's hull - not the heavy-bellied cogs of Westeros, but something faster, more efficient. The design was taking shape: a narrower beam, a deeper keel, and most importantly, the fore-and-aft rigging that would allow it to sail closer to the wind than any ship in this world.

"And so, when we have three groups of seven apples..." Maester Walys' voice faded into the background as I refined the sail plan. The modern caravel design I remembered would need modifications for the shipwrights here to build, but the basic principles were sound. A ship that could sail against the wind would revolutionize trade, exploration...

"Prince Aerys?"

I added another line to the rigging sketch, calculating the optimal angle for the lateen sails.

"Prince Aerys?"

The hold would need to be deeper than a cog's, but with proper ballast distribution...

"Prince Aerys!"

Maester Walys' raised voice finally broke through my concentration. I looked up to find everyone staring at me - Rey and Aemon with poorly concealed amusement, the maester with exasperation.

"I apologize for interrupting your... artistic endeavors," he said dryly, "but perhaps you could grace us with your attention for the lesson?"

"Sorry, Maester Walys," I said, trying to look appropriately chastened while discreetly sliding my ship designs under my arithmetic work.

"Since you clearly find our basic sums too simple to hold your interest," the maester continued, moving to his desk and returning with a fresh piece of parchment, "perhaps these will prove more engaging."

I looked at the problems he set before me and had to bite back a smile. They were clearly meant to be challenging - complex problems involving trade calculations, geometric progression, and compound interest. In my old life, I'd struggled with advanced calculus in college, but these? These were just algebra and basic economics dressed up in medieval language.

"Take your time with these, my prince," Maester Walys said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice as he returned to helping Rey and Aemon with their simpler work. "We'll review them tomorrow once you've had proper time to work through them."

I picked up my quill and started working, falling into the familiar patterns of problem-solving I'd learned in my previous life. The trade calculation was simple enough - just a matter of working backward from the final profit to determine the initial investment. The geometric progression took a bit more thought to translate into the mathematical language of this world, but the principles remained the same.

The compound interest problem made me pause - not because it was difficult, but because I suddenly realized I was using decimal points, which weren't commonly used in Westeros. I quickly converted my work to show the traditional fractions, though the modern method was far more efficient.

"Finished," I said after about half an hour, pushing the completed work across the table.

Maester Walys looked up from where he was explaining basic multiplication to Aemon, his chain links clinking softly as he moved. "Already? But..." He picked up the parchment, his eyes widening slightly as he reviewed my solutions. "This can't be... how did you...?"

He trailed off, studying my work more closely. I could see his lips moving as he followed my calculations, his brow furrowing deeper with each line.

"These methods," Maester Walys said, looking at my work with surprise. "You've found a different way to work with the numbers. I've never seen a child think to do this before."

"I just thought it made more sense this way," I offered quietly. "Like when you split up a big pile of apples into smaller ones to count them."

"The simplicity of it..." He shook his head in wonder. "Most children your age would try to count everything together and get lost. But you've broken it down so neatly. We must show this to your father."

A quiet knock at the door interrupted his musings. Father stood in the doorway, and from his expression, he'd been there for a few moments already.

"How are the lessons progressing?" he asked.

"Ah, Your Grace," Maester Walys said, rising quickly. "I was actually hoping to speak with you. Prince Aerys has shown quite a clever way with numbers today... though I must note he spent much of the lesson doodling ships instead of attending to his sums."

Father's violet eyes fixed on me with gentle disappointment. "Did he now?"

I felt my face heat with shame. Even after five years, it was still strange sometimes - having parents who could make you feel guilty with just a look. Rey and Aemon had gone very quiet beside me, pretending to be absorbed in their own work.

"The ships, Father," I said quickly, pulling out my rough sketch before he could scold me further. The drawing was wobbly and uneven, done with a child's uncertain hand, but you could still make out the basic shape - a longer hull than usual, with triangular sails instead of the square ones everyone used. I'd drawn little arrows around it showing how the wind would move, though some of the arrows were smudged and messy.

"See? If we make the sails pointed like this," I said, pointing to my crude triangles, "the ship could sail better against the wind. And if we make it longer and thinner..." My finger traced the wobbly hull lines, "it would go faster in the water."

Father picked up the parchment with an amused smile. "Interesting design," he said, studying my childish drawings. "Though I'm not sure our shipwrights would know what to make of these triangular sails of yours. There were some old sketches in the library, from before the Dance, of ships with unusual rigging, but none were ever built successfully." He exchanged an indulgent look with Maester Walys, the kind adults share over children's imaginative ideas.

"But Father," I started to protest, "if we just tried-"

"Perhaps," Father said, though his tone was kind, "we should discuss both your numbers and these... interesting ship designs in my solar. At least there you won't be distracting your sister and cousin from their lessons."

"But that's not fair!" Rey burst out suddenly, her quill dropping to the table with a splash of ink. "Why does Aeys get to go to the solar? I want to go too!" Her lower lip trembled slightly, though I could tell she was trying to look dignified like Mother taught us.

"Rey," Maester Walys began gently, but she wasn't finished.

"I can do sums too," she insisted, pushing her practice slate forward. "And I can draw ships! Look!" She grabbed a piece of parchment and started sketching frantically, making what looked more like a wobbly rectangle with sticks coming out of it.

Father's expression softened as he looked at his daughter. "Your time will come too, sweetling. But right now, you need to finish your lessons with Maester Walys. Perhaps if you work extra hard today, we can visit the solar together later?"

"But I want to go now," Rey pouted, though hope flickered in her eyes at the promise of a later visit. "Aemon, don't you want to go too?"

Our cousin looked up from his careful writing, seeming startled to be drawn into the debate. "I... I should finish my letters," he said diplomatically, though I could see him glancing longingly at the door.

"A very wise decision," Maester Walys approved, trying to restore order to his lesson. "Now, Princess Rhaella, shall we return to our sums?"

"It's because he's older, isn't it?" Rey asked Father, ignoring the maester entirely. "But he's not that much older! Only a year! And he spends all his time drawing silly boats instead of doing his sums properly."

"Ships," I corrected automatically, earning myself a glare from my sister.

"The difference," Father said patiently, "is that your brother has finished his basic sums for today, even if he was distracted by his... naval architecture. When you've mastered your numbers as he has, you'll have more time for other pursuits too."

Rey slumped in her chair, defeat written across her features. But then she straightened, a determined look crossing her face. "Then I'll learn them all today! Every single sum! And tomorrow I'll come to the solar too!"

Father chuckled. "Sums doesn't quite work that way, sweetling. But I admire your enthusiasm." He turned to Maester Walys. "Perhaps we could arrange some special lessons for Rhaella? She seems quite motivated to advance."

The maester nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed, Your Grace. Though perhaps we should focus on mastering our current lessons before moving forward?" He gave Rey a meaningful look as she started to protest again.

"Come along, Aerys," Father said, gathering up my drawings and arithmetic work. "Let's leave your sister and cousin to their studies."

As I gathered my things to follow Father, I caught Rey sticking her tongue out at me, clearly annoyed that I was getting to escape lessons early.

"You know she'll master those sums in half the usual time now, just to prove she can," I commented to Father as we walked down the corridor.

He smiled. "Your sister has always been motivated by challenge. Rather like someone else I know." He glanced pointedly at my ship drawings. "Though perhaps with slightly less nautical ambitions."

Just before we turned the corner, I looked back to see Rey stick her tongue out at me one last time, then bend over her slate with fierce concentration. Knowing her, she'd probably demand to show Father her progress at dinner tonight.

The walk to his solar was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Father had always been good at holding his silence until he had all the facts - something I knew from both history and personal experience.

His solar was warm and familiar, with afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows and the ever-present scent of old books and fresh parchment. He settled into his favorite chair by the window, gesturing for me to take the seat across from him.

"Now then," Father said, his voice gentle but firm as he settled into his chair by the window, "let's start with why you weren't paying attention to your lessons."

I shifted in my seat, trying to find the right words. How could I explain that basic arithmetic felt painfully simple when I remembered calculus? That sometimes my mind wandered to all the things I could change, all the innovations I remembered from my old world?

"I'm sorry, Father," I said finally. "The sums Maester Walys was teaching... I already understand them."

"Yes, I noticed that you completed those rather advanced problems quite easily," he observed. "Problems that would challenge most adults, let alone a child of five." He paused to catch his breath before continuing. "But that's precisely why you should be setting an example for your sister and cousin, not distracting them with fanciful drawings."

"They weren't just fanciful..." I started to protest, but Father raised his hand.

"Aerys, I understand you have a creative mind. And those ship designs showed imagination - the same kind of imagination your grandfather had at your age. But there's a time and place for such things, and during your lessons isn't it."

He had to pause again, his breathing becoming slightly labored. After taking a few careful breaths, he spoke thoughtfully. "You know, your grandfather taught me something important about duty when I was young. He said that being a prince - being a future king - means understanding when to dream and when to focus on the tasks at hand."

I watched him take another careful breath, feeling guilty for causing him to exert himself. Even after five years in this life, seeing him struggle still pained me.

"When your grandfather took the crown," Father continued once his breathing steadied, "he understood that duty meant more than just wearing it. It meant making hard choices, balancing what you want to do with what needs to be done." His violet eyes met mine. "When your mother and I chose each other, many said we were putting our hearts before duty. But your grandfather understood something deeper - that sometimes duty means following what you know to be right, even when others disagree."

"Like when he lived among the smallfolk?" I asked, remembering the stories.

"Exactly." Father smiled, though his breathing remained careful. "The crown isn't just gold and jewels, just as the Iron Throne isn't just swords. They're symbols of responsibility - to our family, to our people, to the realm itself."

And just like another iconic father-figure taught one of the greatest heroes to ever be created in my past life I understood perfectly what lesson father was trying to impart to me: With Great Power, Comes Great Responsibility. And just like Spider-Man, I took the lesson to hearth.

A knock at the door interrupted us, and Mother entered, her silver-gold hair catching the afternoon light. Something about her movement seemed different, more careful somehow.

"I thought I might find you both here," she said, moving to stand beside Father's chair. Her hand rested almost unconsciously on her stomach.

"I have news," Mother said softly, her hand moving to rest on her stomach in a gesture I'd never seen her make before. "I've been feeling unwell in the mornings lately, and the Grand Maester confirmed what I suspected - we're going to have another child."

The words hit me like a physical force. In all my memories of this world from my past life, in all the histories I'd read, Jaehaerys and Shaera had only two children - me and Rey. This was something entirely unexpected, a profound reminder that this wasn't just some story I remembered anymore. This was real life, with all its unpredictable turns and changes.

Father's face transformed with joy, though I noticed his breathing quicken dangerously with excitement. "Another child?" he whispered, reaching for Mother's hand. Even through his obvious happiness, I could hear the slight wheeze in his voice. "Are you certain?"

"The Grand Maester is quite sure," Mother said, moving closer to lay her free hand on Father's shoulder, a gesture of both affection and support as he caught his breath. "Though he says it's still early days yet."

"How early?" Father asked, his breathing gradually steadying under Mother's touch.

"About two moons," she replied, and I noticed how her fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. "The morning sickness started just like it did with Rey, though not quite as severe this time." She glanced at me, clearly weighing how much detail to share in front of a child.

I remembered how difficult Rey's pregnancy had been - the constant worry about Mother's health, the maesters coming and going, the hushed conversations I wasn't supposed to hear but understood all too well with my adult mind. The thought of going through all that again made my stomach clench with anxiety.

"The Grand Maester says everything looks promising," Mother continued, obviously trying to ease the concern she saw in Father's face. "He wants me to be careful, of course, but he seems optimistic." She smiled, though I caught the slight tremor in it. "He says each pregnancy is different."

"We'll take every precaution," Father assured her, his voice gentle despite his still-labored breathing. His violet eyes met mine across the solar. "What do you think about this, Aerys? About having another little brother or sister?"

The question caught me off guard. In my past life, I'd been an only child, and even my memories of this world's history hadn't prepared me for this moment. Rey had already changed everything I thought I knew about being a sibling, about family, about love. And now another child...

"Will it be a boy or a girl?" I asked, partly to buy time to process my thoughts, partly because I genuinely wondered. The histories I remembered hadn't mentioned this child at all - this was completely uncharted territory.

Mother laughed softly. "It's far too early to know that, sweetling. Though I'm sure Rey will have plenty of opinions on the matter." Her expression softened as she studied my face. "We wanted to tell you first, before anyone else. Even before Rey."

"Why?" I asked, though I thought I knew the answer.

"Because you're the eldest," Father said, his breathing finally settling into a more normal rhythm. "And because you've shown such wisdom lately - even if sometimes that wisdom gets distracted by ship designs during lessons." His eyes twinkled with gentle humor.

"Does Rey really not know yet?" I asked, thinking of my sister and her uncanny ability to know everything that happened in the castle.

"Not yet," Mother confirmed. "Though knowing your sister, she's probably already suspicious. She asked me this morning why I wasn't eating my favorite lemon cakes at breakfast."

"She notices everything," I agreed, remembering how Rey had known about my city adventure just by looking at my boots.

"Just like her brother," Father said warmly. "Though perhaps with slightly less interest in naval architecture."

The gentle teasing helped ease some of the tension I hadn't realized I was carrying. This was my family - not just characters in a story I remembered, but real people who loved each other, who faced challenges together, who shared both joys and worries.

"Can we tell her together?" I asked. "As a family? She'll be so excited - she's always talking about wanting more siblings to play with."

Mother's eyes filled with tears, and this time I knew they were happy ones. "Of course we can, sweetling." She opened her arms, and I went to her without hesitation, feeling Father's arm wrap around us both despite his wheezing breath.

Standing there in that embrace, feeling Mother's warmth and Father's slightly trembling strength, I thought about how different this was from anything I'd known in my past life. This wasn't just about changing history anymore - it was about being part of something larger than myself, about family and love and the kind of duty that came from the heart.

Author's Note:

Hey Everyone,

I hope this note finds you all well as we move further into 2025. First, I want to thank you all for your continued support and patience. While the job search is still ongoing (and let me tell you, it's quite the adventure.), I'm committed to maintaining regular updates for all my stories.

Speaking of updates, I'm excited to share that "The Lost Jedi of Westeros" is nearly complete and should be ready for posting next week. For those following my other works, you can also expect updates for both "Raiders of the Lost Ark: A Father's Legacy" and "Superman: Man of Steel" (my MCU/DCU crossover) around the same time.

I'll be honest - this chapter was both challenging and rewarding to write. There's something sobering about taking a character with modern knowledge and dropping them into the harsh reality of medieval King's Landing. I wanted Aerys's first real glimpse of the city to hit hard - you know that moment when you realize something you thought would be simple is actually incredibly complex? That's what he experiences here. Sure, he sees the problems, and he has all these ideas about fixing them, but he's learning that real change isn't as simple as just knowing what needs to be done. The corruption, the poverty, the daily struggles of common folk - these aren't problems you can fix with a wave of your hand, even if you're a prince with memories of a modern world. I think we've all had moments like that, where we think we have all the answers until reality gives us a good smack upside the head. It's humbling, it's frustrating, but it's also how we grow.

Once again, I have to thank .4545 for his invaluable editing support. His feedback continues to help shape and refine these stories in ways I couldn't manage alone.*

Thank you all for sticking with me during this transitional period in my life. Your comments, messages, and engagement with these stories mean more than you know. While the job search can be challenging, knowing I have this creative outlet and such a supportive community makes it all a bit easier to navigate.

Looking forward to sharing more adventures with you all soon,

Mtle232.

P.S. For those interested in my other crossovers, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the other stories.

Face Claims List:

Owen Teage as Young Aerys

Alexander Skarsgård as Adult Aerys

Lily Rose Depp as Young Rhaella

Charlize Theron as Adult Rhaella

Hugh Jackman as Ormund Baratheon

Timothée Chalamet as Young Steffon Baratheon

Henry Cavill as Adult Steffon Baratheon

Tom Cullen as Duncan the Small

Emma Stone as Jenny of Oldstones

Nicholas Hoult as Jaehaerys II

Amanda Seyfried as Shaera

Eddie Redmayne as Daeron

Kristen Bell as Rhaelle Targaryen/Baratheon

Tom Felton as Young Tywin

Charles Dance as Adult Tywin

David Wenham as Aegon V

Claire Foy as Queen Betha Blackwood

These are just how I've been picturing the characters while writing, but I'm totally open to other suggestions. If you have different actors in mind who you think would better fit any of these roles, I'd love to hear your thoughts.