Chapter 2: A Dragon's First Steps

Being a baby, as it turned out, was incredibly frustrating.

Don't get me wrong - being showered with unconditional love and having your every need attended to sounds great in theory. But try experiencing it with the full awareness and mental capacity of a former MIT-bound teenager, and suddenly it becomes a special kind of torture.

Take communication, for instance. In my previous life, I'd prided myself on my ability to articulate complex thoughts and engage in deep philosophical discussions. Now? I was reduced to various pitched wails and gurgles that made me sound like a particularly vocal tea kettle. The worst part was that I could understand everything being said around me, but my infant vocal cords refused to cooperate in forming actual words.

"Look how he follows the conversation," my mother Shaera would say proudly, cradling me against her chest as she paced the nursery. "Such an alert little dragon."

Alert wasn't the half of it. I was mentally composing entire dissertations on the socio-political implications of Targaryen rule while being limited to expressing myself through drool and the occasional well-timed giggle. It was maddening.

And then there was the constant hunger. Sweet gods, the hunger. I'd never fully appreciated just how demanding infant metabolism could be. It felt like I was perpetually starving, even right after being fed. The wet nurse they'd initially tried to bring in had been summarily dismissed by my mother, who insisted on feeding me herself despite the maester's concerns about proper royal protocol.

"My mother nursed all her children," she'd declared with that quiet steel in her voice that I was quickly learning meant the discussion was over. "I'll do no less for my son."

I'd felt a surge of gratitude for her stubbornness then. Not just because it meant more time with her, but because she was willing to buck tradition for what she believed was best for me. It was a trait I hoped to inherit with my own children in the future.

The first few months of my new life settled into a rhythm of sorts. My days were filled with feeding, sleeping (though I fought it as much as possible), and being passed between various adoring family members. My grandfather Aegon V would often sit beside my cradle, telling me stories of his adventures as a squire with Ser Duncan the Tall. Even as an infant, I couldn't help but be captivated by tales of the man who would become known as "Egg" and his unlikely friendship with the legendary hedge knight turned Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the slayer of Daemon Blackfyre "III" and one of the greatest knights in the order's history.

"You should have seen Duncan's face when he realized who I really was," Aegon chuckled, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief. "Though I suspect you'll never need to hide your identity, little one. The dragon blood shows strong in you."

My grandmother Betha was a constant presence as well, often shooing away the nurses to tend to me herself. "A prince needs his grandmother's touch as much as any other babe," she would say firmly, her dark eyes daring anyone to contradict her.

But it was my parents who truly amazed me. Despite my father's persistent ill health, he would spend hours by my cradle, reading to me from various histories and chronicles. His voice would often grow hoarse from coughing, but he refused to stop until he'd finished whatever tale he'd started.

"He needs to know his heritage," Jaehaerys would insist when Shaera tried to make him rest. "All of it - the triumphs and the tragedies both."

My mother, for her part, seemed determined to make up for every moment she couldn't physically hold me by singing, talking, or simply being near. Even when I was sleeping (or pretending to sleep while actually listening intently), she would sit beside my cradle, humming that same lullaby about the dragon and the evening star.

It was during one of these quiet moments, when I was about three months old, that I first met my aunt Rhaelle properly since my birth. She swept into the nursery with all the grace of the Lady of Storm's End, though her violet eyes still sparkled with that same mischievous light I'd come to recognize from the stories my mother told of their childhood.

"Where's my precious nephew?" she called out warmly, one hand resting on her own swollen belly as she entered. "I simply had to come see him before this little stag of mine arrives."

"Rhaelle!" Shaera rose to embrace her sister, careful not to press against her sister's prominent bump. "We weren't expecting you until next week! Does Father know you're here?"

"I couldn't wait any longer," Rhaelle admitted with a laugh. "Ormund tried to convince me to delay until after the babe comes, but I told him I absolutely must see my nephew while I can still travel comfortably." She made her way to my cradle, moving with the careful grace of a woman in her later months of pregnancy. "Oh, look at him! He's got his eyes wide open!"

I studied my aunt with genuine interest. This was the aunt who, in another timeline, had been sent to Storm's End as a punishment. Here though, she had gone willingly, falling in love with young Ormund Baratheon during a visit to King's Landing. Their match had delighted both families, especially since it helped heal the wounds left by Uncle Duncan's broken betrothal to the Baratheon girl.

"Hello there, little dragon," Rhaelle cooed, lowering herself carefully into a chair beside my cradle. "I'm your Aunt Rhaelle, and once this little stag arrives, you'll have a cousin to play with. Would you like that?"

I gurgled in response, earning delighted laughs from both sisters.

"He's so alert," Rhaelle marveled. "Nothing like the other babes I've seen. He really seems to understand what's happening around him."

"He does," Shaera agreed proudly. "Though sometimes it worries me, how aware he seems."

"Nonsense," Rhaelle declared, pulling a familiar wrapped package from her pocket. "He's a dragon, that's all. Now, I know he's too young for honey cakes, but I brought some anyway. The cooks at Storm's End make them just like the ones we used to steal from the kitchens here, remember?"

I watched in amusement as my mother and aunt shared the treats, their conversation flowing easily between memories of childhood mischief and discussions of impending motherhood. Rhaelle's presence seemed to bring out a lighter side in my mother, one less weighed down by worry over my father's health and my own unusual development.

"I still can't believe you're going to be a mother," Shaera said softly, reaching out to touch her sister's belly. "It seems like just yesterday we were sneaking around the castle, avoiding our lessons."

"And now look at us," Rhaelle laughed. "You with your little dragon, me with my storm lord's heir on the way. Though I must say, pregnancy agrees with me far more than it did with you. I haven't been sick once!"

"Count yourself fortunate," Shaera replied wryly. "I could barely keep anything down for the first few months with Aerys."

Speaking of Duncan, my eldest uncle made his appearance later that same day, and he wasn't alone. He cut an impressive figure, tall and broad-shouldered like the grandfather I would never met., Maekar I the Anvil. But it was his companion who truly caught my attention - Jenny of Oldstones, the woman for whom he'd given up a crown. Her wild red hair was as vibrant as the stories said, though now it was tamed into an elegant braid that fell over her noticeably swollen belly.

That detail made me pause. In all the histories I remembered, Duncan and Jenny had remained childless. This was another change, another deviation from the timeline I knew. I filed this information away carefully, wondering what other ripples were spreading out from whatever had altered this reality.

"So this is the newest dragon," Duncan said softly, studying me with eyes that held less of the haunting sadness I'd expected. Having Jenny beside him, carrying their child, seemed to have lifted some of the weight he'd carried in the other timeline. "Father says he's remarkably alert for his age."

"Would you like to hold him?" Shaera offered, already moving to lift me from my cradle.

"I... perhaps that's not..." Duncan started to protest, but my mother was already placing me in his arms, adjusting his grip with the practiced ease of a new parent.

"Support his head, like this," she instructed. "There, see? He likes you."

And I did, surprisingly. There was a gentleness to Duncan that seemed enhanced by his impending fatherhood. I reached up with one pudgy hand, managing to grab a lock of his silver-gold hair.

"Strong grip," he commented with a warm smile. "Though I suppose that's to be expected from a dragon prince."

Jenny moved closer, her green eyes sparkling with interest. "Look how he watches everything," she observed in her lilting voice. "Like he's trying to understand all the secrets of the world." She placed a hand on her own belly. "I wonder if ours will be the same."

"Gods help us if they are," Duncan laughed. "One all-seeing dragon babe is enough, isn't it?"

I wanted to tell him he had no idea how right he was, but all I could manage was a series of what I hoped were encouraging coos.

"He's trying to talk to you," Shaera said with a laugh. "He does that often - makes these little sounds like he's trying to join the conversation."

Their moment with me was interrupted by the arrival of my uncle Daeron, accompanied by his companion Ser Jeremy Norridge and, somewhat awkwardly, Lady Olenna Redwyne. The tension in Daeron's shoulders was subtle but unmistakable - this was clearly an arranged meeting he hadn't sought out.

"Father insisted I show Lady Olenna the gardens," Daeron explained, his voice carefully neutral. "We thought we'd stop to see the newest addition to the family." His violet eyes, sharp and observant, studied me with genuine interest despite his obvious discomfort with the situation.

Olenna Redwyne was everything the histories had suggested - sharp-witted and keenly observant, even at this young age. But what struck me most was the way she looked at Daeron - not with the affection of a prospective bride, but with the calculating gaze of someone who recognized a kindred spirit trapped by duty.

"So this is the remarkable prince everyone's talking about," she said, approaching my cradle while maintaining a careful distance from Daeron. "Though I must say, he looks rather ordinary to me. Just another babe with Targaryen coloring."

"Olenna," Daeron admonished softly, though there was something almost grateful in his tone at her lack of romantic overtures. He moved closer to my cradle, and I could see him better now - dressed impeccably in black and red, every inch a Targaryen prince, though his eyes held a quiet sadness.

"Oh, don't pretend to be scandalized, my prince," she replied with a knowing look. "We both know this match is about as natural as a Dornishman in furs."

I noticed Ser Jeremy shift uncomfortably at her words, his eyes flickering briefly to Daeron before fixing firmly on the floor. The dynamics in the room were fascinating - Daeron's barely concealed discomfort, Olenna's shrewd assessment of the situation, and Jeremy's protective hovering just out of direct sight.

Duncan, ever the diplomatic older brother, tried to ease the tension. "Lady Olenna, surely you're not suggesting-"

"I'm suggesting nothing," she cut in smoothly. "Merely observing that some matches, no matter how politically advantageous, are perhaps not meant to be." Her eyes met Daeron's, and something unspoken passed between them.

I watched as my uncle's shoulders relaxed slightly, recognition dawning in his eyes. Olenna wasn't just being contrary - she was offering him an ally, someone who understood the impossibility of their situation.

"Well, since we're here," Olenna continued, turning her attention back to me, "perhaps we should see if this princeling is as remarkable as everyone claims." She leaned over my cradle, her keen eyes studying my face. "They say he responds to people in the most peculiar way."

Daeron moved to stand beside her, though carefully maintaining a proper distance. "Father says he seems to understand things far beyond his age." He reached down, letting me grab his finger with my tiny hand. "See how he watches us? Most babes his age barely focus on faces."

"Hmm." Olenna tilted her head, considering. "There is something rather... unsettling about how alert he seems. Like he's cataloging everything he sees for future reference." A slight smile crossed her face. "Rather useful trait for a prince, I suppose. Better than the usual drooling and wailing."

"He rarely cries," Jenny offered from where she sat, one hand resting on her pregnant belly. "Shaera says he's been that way since birth."

"A quiet, watchful dragon." Olenna's voice held a note of genuine interest now. "How very unusual. Though I suppose being unusual runs in your family, doesn't it, my prince?" The words could have been cutting, but her tone held something almost like kindness.

Daeron's hand tightened slightly on the cradle's edge. "We all have our own paths to walk, my lady. Some just happen to be less conventional than others."

I gurgled then, drawing their attention back to me. Both Daeron and Olenna seemed to start slightly, as if they'd forgotten they had an audience.

"Look at that," Olenna mused. "He even interrupts conversations like a proper prince already." Her sharp eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "You know, Prince Daeron, perhaps we understand each other better than either of us expected."

"Perhaps we do, Lady Olenna," Daeron replied quietly. His eyes met Ser Jeremy's briefly before returning to me. "Sometimes the most unexpected alliances prove the most valuable."

I watched this exchange with fascination, seeing the beginnings of what could be a powerful friendship forming - not the romance their parents hoped for, but something perhaps more valuable: a mutual understanding between two people who saw the truth in each other.

"Well, little prince," Daeron said softly to me, "it seems you have a talent for bringing people together, even at your age." His smile was genuine now, the sadness in his eyes lifting slightly. "Though I suspect that's just the beginning of what you're capable of."

"You might be right about that," Olenna agreed, surprising everyone with the warmth in her voice. "I look forward to seeing what other surprises this one has in store for us all." She straightened up, smoothing her skirts. "Now, I believe you promised me a tour of the gardens, my prince? Somewhere away from all these prying eyes and expectations?"

The meaning behind her words was clear - she was offering Daeron an escape, a chance to be away from the scrutiny of the court. I noticed Ser Jeremy's subtle sigh of relief.

"Of course, my lady," Daeron replied, understanding perfectly. "Though perhaps Ser Jeremy should accompany us? For propriety's sake, of course."

"Of course," Olenna echoed, a knowing glint in her eye. "We wouldn't want to give anyone cause for gossip, would we?"

As they left, I caught one last glimpse of the three of them - Daeron walking beside Olenna with perfect courtesy while Ser Jeremy followed at a respectful distance, all of them sharing in a secret understanding that would have scandalized the court had anyone else been paying attention.

Once they had gone, Duncan cleared his throat softly. "Shaera," he began, his voice carrying an undercurrent of tension that made me pay closer attention. "Jenny and I... we're planning to speak with Father today about Summerhall."

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately. My mother's arms tightened around me protectively. "Summerhall?" Her voice was sharp. "Duncan, royal holdings aren't meant to be parceled out like common lands. Jaehaerys is Prince of Dragonstone now, and someday Aerys will inherit that title. It sets a dangerous precedent to start dividing royal properties."

"We're not asking for a principality," Jenny said softly, one hand resting on her belly. "Just a place to raise our child-"

"Today it's Summerhall," Shaera cut in, "but what of tomorrow? Will your children feel entitled to more? Will they look at their cousin, the heir to the Iron Throne, and wonder why they have so much less?"

Rhaelle stepped forward, her own pregnancy making her movements careful. "Shaera, there's precedent for younger branches of the family having their own holdings-"

"Which led to the Blackfyre Rebellions," Shaera snapped. "Have we forgotten what happened when Aegon the Unworthy started giving out royal properties and privileges?"

Duncan's face tightened. "I didn't realize you thought so little of me, sister. Do you truly think I would raise my child to resent yours?"

"It's not about you," Shaera protested. "It's about principle. About precedent. Dragonstone belongs to the heir, and the king's other holdings should remain with the crown. Once we start making exceptions..."

"Once we start treating family like family instead of political pieces?" Duncan's voice rose slightly. "Is that what you're afraid of?"

"You chose to give up your claim," Shaera said, her voice trembling. "That was your choice, and I supported you. But don't ask me to compromise my son's birthright."

"Enough!" Rhaelle's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Both of you sound like Father's small council instead of family. Duncan, she's not wrong about precedent. And Shaera, he's not asking for a kingdom, just a home."

I chose that moment to let out a loud wail - not my usual calculated cry, but one born of genuine distress at seeing my mother and uncle at odds. The sound made all three siblings start.

"Oh, sweetling," Shaera murmured, bouncing me gently. But I continued crying, turning my face toward Duncan with what I hoped was a beseeching expression.

"Seven hells," Duncan sighed, his anger deflating. "We're frightening him."

"He's never liked conflict," Jenny observed quietly. "Perhaps he's wiser than all of us."

I watched my mother's face soften slightly as she looked down at me, then back at her brother. "I just... I want to protect what's his by right. The way things have always been done."

"The way things have always been done nearly kept you from marrying Jaehaerys," Duncan reminded her gently. "Sometimes traditions need to bend before they break."

The tension remained, but something in the air had shifted. I sniffled pathetically for good measure, earning a watery chuckle from my mother.

"We should at least hear Father's thoughts," Rhaelle suggested diplomatically. "He might have a solution we haven't considered."

The months continued to pass, bringing new frustrations and small triumphs. I learned to control my limbs better, though coordinating them remained a daily challenge. Rolling over was celebrated as if I'd just conquered the Seven Kingdoms, and my first attempts at sitting up unassisted nearly gave my mother heart failure. But nothing compared to my early attempts at walking.

I had been pulling myself up on furniture for weeks, much to my mother's alternating delight and terror. Each wobbly attempt to stand would send her hovering nearby, hands outstretched to catch me if I fell. My father watched these attempts with pride, though his health seemed to worsen with each passing day. The coughing fits grew more frequent, and I often caught my mother watching him with worried eyes when she thought no one was looking.

"Look at him, determined as ever," Jaehaerys would say between labored breaths, watching as I gripped the edge of a chair and pulled myself upright for the thousandth time. "Like a true dragon."

"Like his father," Shaera would always reply, but there was a tremor in her voice that broke my heart.

One particularly memorable afternoon found the whole family gathered in my mother's solar. My grandfather Aegon had just finished telling one of his stories about his adventures with Ser Duncan the Tall, and I was using his knee to support myself as I stood on wobbling legs.

"He's getting stronger every day," Aegon observed, his hands hovering near my back as I swayed slightly. "Soon enough he'll be running through these halls causing all sorts of mischief."

"Don't even joke about that, Father," Shaera said, though she couldn't hide her proud smile. "He's already keeping me busy enough as it is."

My grandmother Betha sat nearby, her dark eyes watchful as I released one hand from Aegon's knee, trying to maintain my balance. "He's got that look in his eyes again," she noted. "The one that says he's planning something."

She wasn't wrong. I had been watching everyone around me walk for months now, studying how they moved, how they balanced. My infant body was ready - I could feel it in my stronger muscles, in the way I could now pull myself up and stand while holding onto furniture. But today felt different. Today, I was determined to take my first steps.

"Come to Mother, sweetling," Shaera called softly, kneeling a few feet away with her arms outstretched. "You can do it."

I looked at the distance between us - barely three feet, but it might as well have been leagues to my untested legs. Still, I had faced other challenges in this new life and overcome them. This would be no different.

With careful deliberation, I released my grip on my grandfather's knee. For a moment, I stood completely unassisted, earning a collective intake of breath from my family. Even my father, who had been fighting another coughing fit, fell silent.

"That's it," Aegon encouraged softly. "You've got it, little dragon."

Emboldened by their support, I lifted my right foot and moved it forward. The shift in weight nearly sent me toppling, but I managed to catch myself. The left foot followed, and suddenly I was actually walking.

One step. Two steps. Each one wobbly and uncertain, but definitely steps.

"By the Seven," Betha whispered. "Look at him go."

I was so focused on maintaining my balance that I didn't notice my mother's eyes filling with tears of joy. Three steps now. Just a little further...

On the fourth step, my confidence got the better of me. I tried to move too quickly, my foot tangled with itself, and I felt myself falling forward. I saw Shaera move to catch me, her face a mask of maternal concern, already preparing the soothing words I knew would follow.

But I didn't want to be coddled. Months of frustration - of being trapped in this infant body, of having thoughts I couldn't express, of being treated like I was helpless - all came rushing to the surface. I had figured out the mechanics of walking. This was just a minor setback, and I didn't need to be rescued from it.

The word formed in my mind clearly enough, but getting my untrained vocal cords to cooperate was another matter entirely. I felt the muscles in my throat strain as I forced them to work in ways they never had before. My tongue felt thick and clumsy as I struggled to shape the simple syllable. It was like trying to speak with a mouth full of cotton, while simultaneously attempting to solve a complex mathematical equation.

"Nnn..." The sound caught in my throat. I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead from the effort. My face must have been turning red because I saw alarm replace the concern in my mother's eyes. But I wasn't giving up. I forced more air through my vocal cords, struggling to shape the sound properly. "Nnn...nno."

Finally, with one last tremendous effort that felt like it took more energy than all my walking attempts combined, I managed to force out the word: "No!"

It came out rougher than I'd intended, almost guttural, but unmistakably clear - a word, not a baby's random vocalization. The strain had left my throat feeling raw, but the sense of triumph overshadowed any discomfort.

The room fell silent. Even my father's persistent cough seemed to pause in shock. In that moment, you could have heard a feather drop in the Red Keep's courtyard.

I pushed myself back up to my knees, deliberately not looking at their stunned faces. My throat still burned from the effort of speaking, but I focused instead on getting my feet under me again, using a nearby footstool for support. I wouldn't let them see how much that single word had taken out of me.

"Did... did he just..." Shaera's voice trailed off, her hands frozen in mid-reach. I could hear the tremor in her voice, the mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Father, Mother, did you hear...?"

"He did," Jaehaerys confirmed, my father's voice barely above a whisper as he fought back another cough. "And he used it correctly. He wasn't just making sounds, he... he understood what he was saying." There was something in his tone I hadn't heard before - a kind of wondering fear mixed with pride. He managed to steady his breathing before continuing, "Such a strong, clear word too. Not what I expected for his first."

I could feel their eyes on me as I pulled myself up again, my legs still shaky but determined. Finally stable, I turned to face them, seeing the mixture of shock, pride, and something like awe on their faces. My grandfather had leaned forward in his chair, studying me with an intensity that reminded me he wasn't just my doting grandfather - he was King Aegon V Targaryen, and he had just witnessed something extraordinary. His fingers drummed thoughtfully on the armrest, a habit I'd noticed he displayed when deep in contemplation.

"Most babes start with 'muna' or 'kepa'," my grandmother Betha said softly, her dark eyes sharp and assessing despite her gentle tone. "We've been trying to teach him those words for weeks now. Your first word was 'kepa', Shaera - you were barely older than Aerys is now. And you, Jaehaerys, you started with 'muna' - though you could hardly breathe through the coughing when you said it. But 'no'... and spoken so clearly..."

"No," Aegon agreed thoughtfully. "He certainly hasn't been like most babes." The way my grandfather looked at me now had changed subtly - still loving, but with a new awareness, as if truly seeing me for the first time. He leaned closer, his violet eyes intent upon my face. "The blood of Old Valyria runs strong in this one. Perhaps stronger than we thought."

Taking advantage of their contemplative moment, I steadied myself and took another careful step forward. My legs trembled slightly with the effort, but I was determined to show them I could do this. My mother was still kneeling a few feet away, her arms half-raised in that protective gesture she'd been about to make before my unexpected word.

Step by step, I made my way toward her. Each movement was deliberate, calculated. My throat still burned from the effort of speaking, but I pushed through it. I could see the emotions playing across my mother's face - pride, concern, and that lingering shock from my spoken word. When I finally reached her, I raised my arms in the universal gesture of a child wanting to be held, making sure to meet her eyes directly.

She gathered me up automatically, though I could feel the slight tremble in her embrace. The familiar scent of her perfume - roses and something uniquely her - wrapped around me like a comfort blanket. But there was tension in her hold now, a new awareness that the babe in her arms might be more than she had imagined.

"My clever, clever boy," she whispered, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Her voice shook slightly, betraying the depth of her emotion. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

I wanted to tell her she had no idea - to explain everything, to prepare her for what was coming. But my throat still burned from forcing out that single word, and I'd already caused enough of a stir for one day. Instead, I rested my head against her shoulder, letting her find comfort in the familiar motion of rocking me. There would be time for more words later, when my infant body had caught up with my mind's ambitions.

"Maester Walys did say he was unusually aware," Jaehaerys offered after a moment, though his voice was thoughtful. Even as he spoke, I could hear him fighting back another cough. "Remember how he responded to different name suggestions on the day he was born?"

"But there's a difference between being aware and... and this," Shaera gestured vaguely with one hand while keeping me secure with the other. I felt her heart racing against my cheek, betraying her outward calm. "He didn't just speak, he understood. He knew exactly what 'no' meant and used it correctly. And then to walk to me like that, so purposeful..."

"Perhaps we shouldn't be so surprised," Aegon said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. His eyes hadn't left me since I'd made my way to Shaera. "He is a dragon, after all. And our blood has always been... different. Though I must admit, I've never seen such..." he paused, searching for the right word, "such awareness in one so young."

I could hear the unspoken words behind that statement. Magic. The thing that set Targaryens apart, that had given them their connection to dragons, their prophetic dreams, their otherworldly beauty. Was that what they thought this was? Some manifestation of their ancient bloodline?

Let them think that, I decided. It was easier than the truth.

"Whatever the reason," Betha cut in practically, "he's clearly determined to walk. And now we know he can speak when he wants to. Best be prepared for more surprises from this one."

If only they knew.

The weeks that followed my first word brought a new kind of challenge - pretending to learn things I already knew. After the shock of my precocious "no," I'd decided to be more careful. The last thing I needed was for anyone to start wondering if I was possessed by some ancient Targaryen spirit or touched by strange magic. Best to play the role of a bright but still normal baby, even if "normal" for a Targaryen was already extraordinary by most standards.

My mother had gradually shifted from worried uncertainty to cautious pride in my development. Where once she had watched me with something like fear when I displayed understanding beyond my age, now she beamed with each new word I carefully allowed myself to learn. It helped that I made sure to stick to simple terms and sprinkled in plenty of childish mispronunciations.

Maester Walys sat cross-legged on the floor of the nursery, arranging various objects before me while my mother watched from a nearby chair. The elderly maester had been conducting these "examinations" every few days, clearly fascinated by my development. His chain clinked softly as he moved, the different metals catching the morning light streaming through the high windows.

"Cup," he said clearly, holding up a small silver goblet with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embossed on its side.

I waited the appropriate amount of time, pretending to study the object intently. I even reached out to touch it, playing the part of a curious infant exploring something new. Finally, I responded with a carefully imperfect, "Cu-up."

"Very good, my prince!" The maester's chain clinked as he nodded approvingly. I heard my mother's soft gasp of delight from her chair.

"Did you hear how clear that was?" Shaera asked, her voice warm with pride. "He's getting better at speaking every day."

Her enthusiasm gave me the confidence to be a bit bolder. When Maester Walys held up the next object, I didn't wait for him to name it.

"Book," I said, trying to make my voice sound appropriately childlike and uncertain. In truth, I could have named every object in the room, but that would definitely raise too many questions. Still, I allowed myself to reach for the leather-bound tome with genuine interest - I had always loved books, in both lives.

"Remarkable!" Maester Walys turned to my mother. "Your Grace, his grasp of language continues to develop at an extraordinary rate. Most babes his age are still limited to 'mama' or 'papa', if they're speaking at all. But Prince Aerys seems to have an innate understanding of-"

"He's always been clever," Shaera interjected, and I could hear the shift in her voice - from the uncertainty of those first few weeks after my 'no' to this new, fierce pride. "Even before he started speaking, you could see him watching, understanding. Remember how he responded to different names on the day he was born?"

I glanced up at her, careful to maintain my mask of infantile innocence, but inside I felt a warm glow of affection. She had come so far from those first startled reactions to my development. Now she was defending it, embracing it even.

"Indeed, Your Grace," the maester agreed, selecting another object - a wooden dragon carved with delicate scales. "Now, my prince, can you tell me what-"

But before he could finish, my mother suddenly lurched forward, her face going pale as milk. Her hand flew to her mouth as she scrambled for the chamber pot kept discreetly behind her chair. I immediately abandoned my performance of studying the wooden dragon, genuine concern replacing my careful act as I watched her retch violently into the pot. The sound echoed off the stone walls of the nursery, her knuckles white where they gripped the pot's rim.

"Muna?" I called out, letting real worry color my voice. The term had become natural over the past weeks, and seeing her in distress stirred genuine feelings of concern.

"Your Grace!" Maester Walys was on his feet with surprising agility for his age. "Allow me to examine you. How long has this been occurring?"

Shaera lifted her head slightly, accepting a damp cloth from the maester to wipe her mouth. Her face was ashen, but she maintained her composure with admirable dignity. "A few mornings now. I didn't want to cause any unnecessary worry..."

"And your moon's blood?" The maester asked professionally. "When was your last cycle, if I may inquire? Have you noticed any changes in its regularity?"

"I..." My mother's face flushed slightly as she counted backwards. "The last was... just before Aerys spoke. Perhaps a half-moon after he reached his sixth moon." She paused, her hand absently touching her stomach. "That night... Jaehaerys and I were both shaken by Aerys speaking so clearly, so young. We stayed up late into the night, torn between joy at his cleverness and worry about what such early speech might mean. Our blood has always been different, but this..." She glanced at me with a mixture of pride and lingering uncertainty. "We sought comfort in each other's arms that night. It had been some time since Jaehaerys felt strong enough, but in that moment..." Her blush deepened as she trailed off.

The maester maintained his professional demeanor, though his eyes softened with understanding. "I see. And have you noticed any other changes? Tenderness perhaps, or unusual weariness?"

Shaera nodded slowly, realization beginning to dawn in her eyes. "My dresses have felt tighter, and I've been more tired than usual. Though with Aerys' developments and Jaehaerys' health, I thought it was just the strain of worry."

"Have there been any changes in your appetite? Foods you suddenly crave or can no longer tolerate?"

"The smell of the kitchens has been overwhelming lately," she admitted, then glanced at me briefly before continuing in a lower voice, though I could still hear her clearly. "I should have realized sooner, but with everything happening with Aerys..."

"I understand, Your Grace," Maester Walys said kindly. "Such moments between husband and wife are natural, especially in times of strong emotion. And His Grace's health had been stronger in recent weeks."

The realization dawned in her violet eyes at the same moment I processed what this meant. I was going to have a sibling.

"Oh," she breathed softly, one hand moving to rest on her stomach. "I hadn't even thought... with everything happening with Aerys..."

"The symptoms certainly suggest..." Maester Walys began, but was interrupted by another round of retching. He waited patiently for it to pass, offering her fresh water and a clean cloth. "Have there been changes to your appetite? Foods that you can no longer bear?"

"The smell of fish," Shaera admitted, grimacing as she wiped her mouth. "Even passing the kitchens when they're preparing it makes me ill. And I've developed the strangest cravings. Just yesterday, I found myself desperate for those honey cakes that Rhaelle's always sneaking from the kitchens. I had the servants searching at the hour of the wolf."

I pushed myself carefully to my feet - I'd gotten better at walking these past weeks, though I still made sure to wobble appropriately for my age. Slowly, I made my way to my mother's chair, my movements deliberate but unsteady. When I reached her, I patted her knee with what I hoped looked like simple infant concern.

"Muna?" I asked, keeping my vocabulary limited as I'd been doing since that first shocking "no." At this age, single words were safer, especially given how my first clear speech had startled everyone.

Her face softened as she looked at me, and she managed a weak smile despite her pallor. "I'll be fine, my clever little dragon." She reached down to stroke my hair, her touch gentle. "Though it seems you might be getting a little brother or sister to play with."

I widened my eyes, letting them grow round with what I hoped appeared to be simple childish curiosity. Inside, though, my mind was racing. A sibling. In the original timeline, this would have been Rhaella. My sister, my future wife in that other life that would never be. The thought made me slightly queasy myself, although I would have to learn to accept

it for the sake of my family and the realm.

"Your Grace," Maester Walys said gently, "perhaps we should conclude the examination for today. You should rest, and I should inform His Grace..."

"No," Shaera said firmly, though her face was still pale. "Let me tell Jaehaerys myself. He's been so worried about his cough lately, this news might lift his spirits."

The maester bowed in acquiescence. "Of course, Your Grace. Though I must insist you rest afterward. The early moons can be quite taxing, especially while caring for a young prince."

I reached up toward my mother, making the simple grabbing motion that all babies seem to know instinctively. "Up?" I said, keeping to my carefully limited vocabulary. She scooped me up automatically, and I could feel a slight tremor in her hands. Whether from excitement or morning sickness, I couldn't tell.

"Thank you, Maester Walys," she said, rising carefully with me in her arms. "We'll continue Aerys' examination tomorrow."

As we left the nursery, I felt her hold tighten slightly. "Well, my little dragon," she whispered, "it seems our family is growing. What do you think about that?"

I responded by snuggling closer, offering what comfort I could. Inside, I was already planning. A sibling meant another ally, another person to protect, another chance to change the future. But for now, my mother needed rest, and I needed to keep playing my part.

"Love Muna," I said simply, earning a watery chuckle and a kiss on my forehead.

"And I love you, my clever boy," she replied. "More than you could ever know."

We made our way through the corridors of the Red Keep, passing servants who bowed deeply as we passed. My mother's steps were purposeful - she knew exactly where to find my father at this hour. As we approached his solar, she paused briefly outside the door, steadying herself.

"Your father will be reviewing the grain reports," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "Father- the King, that is, has him overseeing the winter preparations for the Crownlands. The last harvest wasn't as bountiful as we'd hoped..."

She was right. When we entered the solar, we found my father hunched over his desk, surrounded by scrolls and ledgers. The room smelled of parchment and the herbs the maesters prescribed for his cough, though for once his breathing seemed steady. One particular report lay open before him - I could make out "Duskendale" written at the top in careful script.

"Kepa!" I called out, using one of my few permitted words. The sight of him always brought a mixture of joy and worry - joy at seeing him looking relatively well today, worry about his perpetually fragile health. I REALLY needed to do something about it in the future, but Westeros couldn't be denied Jaehaerys II.

Jaehaerys looked up from his work, violet eyes brightening at the sight of us. "There's my boy!" He set aside the scroll detailing crop yields from Duskendale and held out his arms. "And my beautiful wife. How did the examination with Maester Walys go?"

I noticed he didn't cough once as he spoke - a good sign. These better days were precious, and I treasured each one, knowing how few of them might remain if I couldn't somehow change things.

Shaera approached his desk, still holding me close. "Well enough, though we had to cut it short." She paused, and I felt her arms tighten slightly around me. "My love... I have something to tell you."

Jaehaerys must have noticed the tremor in her voice because he pushed his chair back from the desk, giving her his full attention. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"No, not wrong," she said softly. "But... do you remember the night Aerys first spoke? When we stayed up talking about what it might mean?"

My father's face softened at the memory. "Of course. We were so shocked, so proud... and worried too, I suppose. Our little dragon, speaking so clearly at such a young age." He reached out to ruffle my hair affectionately.

"And afterward..." Shaera continued, her cheeks coloring slightly. "When we sought comfort in each other's arms..."

I watched understanding dawn in my father's eyes. His hand, which had been reaching for another scroll, froze in mid-air. "Shaera... are you saying...?"

She nodded, tears gathering in her violet eyes. "We're going to have another child, my love."

For a moment, Jaehaerys sat perfectly still, not even the hint of a cough disturbing the silence. Then, with more energy than I'd seen from him in weeks, he stood and crossed to us in two quick strides. His arms wrapped around both of us, and I found myself sandwiched between my parents in a warm embrace.

"Another child," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "Another dragon." His hand moved to rest gently on Shaera's stomach, still flat beneath her dress. "How long...?"

"Maester Walys thinks about a moon's turn, perhaps a bit more. The sickness just started recently, but..." She leaned into his embrace, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I should have realized sooner. I've been so focused on Aerys's developments..."

"We both have," Jaehaerys assured her. His eyes were shining with unshed tears as he looked down at me. "What do you think about that, my boy? Would you like a little brother or sister?"

I made sure to smile in what I hoped was simple, childlike pleasure. "Love," I said, reaching up to pat both their faces with my small hands. It earned me warm chuckles from both of them.

"Always so aware," my father murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before kissing Shaera deeply. When they parted, he kept one arm around her while using the other to clear space on his desk, pushing aside reports and ledgers. "These can wait. This is cause for celebration! I should send for wine... though perhaps not for you, my love," he added with a tender smile.

"Perhaps you should sit first," Shaera suggested, ever mindful of his health. "You've been working since dawn."

To my surprise, Jaehaerys laughed - a clear, strong sound without a trace of wheeze or cough. "How can I sit still? Another child, Shaera! Father will be overjoyed - he's been hinting about more grandchildren since Aerys started walking. And Mother... oh, she'll be absolutely beside herself with happiness."

I watched my father's joy with a mixture of happiness and determination. This was what I was fighting for - these moments, this love, this family. In another timeline, illness and tragedy would have stolen so much from them. But not this time. This time would be different.

Jaehaerys finally allowed Shaera to guide him back to his chair, though he pulled her down to sit in his lap, keeping me cradled between them. The scrolls and ledgers lay forgotten on the desk, winter preparations temporarily set aside in favor of dreams about spring and new life.

"I love you," he whispered, first to Shaera, then to me, then to the barely-there bump where my sibling, possibly my little brother or almost definitely my future bride, grew. "All of you."

Author's Note:

Hey everyone,

I want to have another heart-to-heart with you all. This chapter is particularly special to me because it marks my last upload as a college student - I'll be graduating next week! It's a surreal feeling, and I wanted to share this milestone with all of you who have made this writing journey so incredible.

In my last note, I talked about needing time to make this story the best it could be, and your understanding and patience have meant everything. Watching Aerys navigate these early moments of his new life, especially with the revelation about his future sibling, has been both challenging and rewarding to write. Your support has made it possible to explore these delicate family dynamics and the weight of knowing what's at stake.

I've been thinking a lot about how to bring these characters to life even more vividly, and I have some face claims in mind for various characters moving forward. But I'd love to hear your suggestions too! If enough of you share your ideas, I'll put together a poll so we can decide as a community. After all, this story has grown beyond just my vision - it's been shaped by your engagement and enthusiasm every step of the way.

Speaking of community input - I genuinely want to hear your thoughts and ideas for where this story could go. Your reviews and suggestions aren't just appreciated; they're essential to making this tale the best it can be. Every comment, every theory, every piece of feedback helps shape this world we're building together.

I have to give a special, heartfelt thank you to .4545 for his incredible work in editing this chapter. His insights and dedication have helped bring these scenes to life in ways I couldn't have achieved alone. This collaboration has truly elevated the story, and I'm grateful for his partnership in this project.

As I prepare to graduate and move into this next chapter of my life, I want you all to know how much your support means to me - both for this story and personally. You've made this journey so much more meaningful than I ever could have imagined.

Let's continue this adventure together.

Warmest regards,

Mtle232

Face Claims List:

• Owen Teage as Young Aerys

• Alexander Skarsgård as Adult Aerys

• Lily Rose Depp as Young Rhaella

• Blake Lively 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

• David Wenham as Aegon V

• Claire Foy as Queen Betha Blackwood

A quick note about these face claims - I wanted to share how I picture these characters in my mind, but please know these aren't set in stone. I deliberately kept our Aerys from commenting too much on recognizing modern actors in his family members' faces (unlike that moment of recognition with his grandparents in Chapter 1) because I wanted to preserve the immersion of his new world. But I'd love to hear how you all picture these characters. Sometimes a reader's vision can be even better than what the author imagined, and I'm always excited to see these characters through your eyes. So please, share your thoughts and suggestions - they might just help shape how we all see this world.