Forged in Fire: A Targaryen's Redemption- Aerys SI

by Mtle232

When William Thompson dies saving his girlfriend in NYC, his story doesn't end - it begins anew as he's reborn as Aerys Targaryen. Armed with the knowledge of a dark future and born into a dynasty on the brink, William must navigate his new life as a Targaryen prince while trying to prevent the realm's descent into madness.

3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Changes

---

245 AC Red Keep

The months after my mother announced her pregnancy passed in a blur of activity. I kept myself busy trying to figure out how to act like a normal toddler - when to take my first steps, what words to say, how to climb on furniture without giving my mother a heart attack. It was like being in a play where I was both the actor and the director, trying to hit all the right marks at the right times.

My father's health had been a constant worry, that cough of his never quite going away. Watching him push through his exhaustion to prepare for the baby reminded me sharply of my own father, Steve, and his unwavering determination. Just as Dad would work long hours at the construction site, coming home bone-tired but still finding energy to help Mom or listen to my endless questions, Jaehaerys fought through his fatigue to supervise every detail of the nursery preparations. His excitement about the baby seemed to give him new strength, though I could see how each task drained him. The way he'd pause to catch his breath while examining furniture arrangements but press on with that quiet determination - it was exactly how Dad would push through his own exhaustion, refusing to let anything stop him from providing for his family. The parallel made my chest tight with both pride and worry. Different men in different worlds, but that same core of stubborn devotion to their families. Like Dad always said, "If you want to make something of yourself, you've got to be willing to roll up those sleeves and get your hands dirty." Watching Jaehaerys now, I saw that same principle in action, even if the setting couldn't have been more different.

The birth of cousin Aemon three months ago had brought another wave of changes to the Red Keep. I'd been with Grandmother Betha in the gardens when the commotion started - servants rushing about, midwives hurrying through corridors, the whole castle buzzing with whispers about Jenny going into labor. I remember how Grandmother's eyes lit up at the news before she composed herself and handed me off to Lady Melissa.

The wait in the nursery felt endless, even with toys and stories for distraction. When the bells finally rang throughout King's Landing announcing Duncan and Jenny's son, something in the castle's atmosphere shifted. I met my cousin the next day, cradled in Jenny's arms - a tiny thing with wisps of red hair that marked him clearly as his mother's son, though his eyes were that familiar Targaryen violet. Shaera had carried me over to see him, letting me touch his tiny hand while speaking softly about how we would grow up together, be the best of friends.

Throughout my mother's pregnancy, I tried to offer what comfort I could in my limited way. When her morning sickness was at its worst, I would stay close by her side, reaching for her hand or making soft sounds of concern that seemed to bring a tired smile to her face. During these moments, I caught glimpses of my father watching us with pride, though his expression couldn't hide his own worry.

The preparation of the nursery transformed the castle's atmosphere. From my spot in my mother's arms or my small corner of the room, I watched my grandfather commission new tapestries depicting dragons in flight, while my grandmother directed the practical arrangements with her usual efficiency. I spent many hours observing the changes, occasionally letting out delighted sounds at particularly pretty decorations or reaching toward things that caught my eye, which seemed to please everyone.

As my mother's pregnancy progressed, the family drew closer together. Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny's frequent visits with Aemon brought new warmth to the Red Keep. I noticed how their presence seemed to ease old tensions, though I still caught worried glances between my mother and grandfather whenever Summerhall was mentioned. During these visits, I would find myself studied by the adults as I interacted with my cousin, their expressions a mixture of joy and something deeper I couldn't quite read.

The first sign something was different came when she suddenly tensed, her hand moving to her swollen belly. Her embroidery hoop slipped from her fingers, the half-finished dragon falling into her lap as she drew in a sharp breath. "Oh," she breathed softly, and I looked up immediately, my heart starting to race. All my thoughts scattered at the sight of her pain, replaced by pure worry.

"Muna?" I asked, my voice small and concerned. The blocks I'd been playing with lay forgotten as I watched her closely, fear beginning to gnaw at my stomach despite knowing this was natural.

Before she could answer, another contraction hit, stronger this time. Her gasp of pain cut straight through me. Lady Alyce, who had been quietly reading nearby, was instantly at her side, her book falling forgotten to the floor. "Your Grace?"

"The babe," my mother managed, her violet eyes finding mine with a mix of excitement and worry that made my chest tight. "It's time."

What followed was a blur of frantic activity that seemed to transform the usually orderly solar into chaos. Servants scattered in all directions - some running to fetch the maester, others to alert my father, still others preparing the birthing chamber. Lady Alyce tried to help my mother stand, to guide her to her chambers, but another contraction doubled her over. She gripped the back of her chair so hard her knuckles went white, and I could see beads of sweat starting to form on her forehead.

I watched helplessly as she struggled through the pain, my own heart racing with fear for her. This was my mother - not just the woman who had given birth to me in this life, but someone I'd grown to love deeply over these past months. Seeing her in such pain, even knowing it was normal, made me feel terrifyingly small and powerless.

"I'll be fine, sweetling," she assured me, though her smile was strained. "The babe is just ready to meet us."

"Take Prince Aerys to the nursery," Lady Alyce said to Lady Melissa. "He shouldn't see his mother like this."

"Muna!" I cried out, my fear making it genuine as I reached for her. "Muna!"

"Aerys," my mother said softly, kneeling despite her discomfort to look me in the eyes. "Be good for Lady Melissa. I promise you'll meet your little brother or sister soon."

I let Lady Melissa pick me up, my heart aching as I was lifted away from my mother. As we left the solar, I watched over her shoulder as more people rushed in - the maester hurrying through one door, servants bustling about with linens and water, and my grandmother Betha striding in with purpose, taking command of the situation as only she could. The last glimpse I caught of my mother was her face contorting with another wave of pain, and that image stayed with me as Lady Melissa carried me toward the nursery.

Hour after hour passed in the nursery as Lady Melissa tried to distract me with toys and stories. The distant sounds of activity and occasional cries from my mother's chambers heightened my anxiety. Though I understood this was natural, experiencing it from this perspective was surreal - each cry made my heart clench with worry.

"Your mother is strong, my prince," Lady Melissa assured me, attempting to interest me in my wooden dragon. "The maester is with her, and your grandmother too."

I had given up any interest in the toys hours ago, choosing instead to sit by the door, periodically calling out "Muna?" Each sound from the hallway, each hurried footstep of a servant passing by, made me tense with concern. The waiting felt endless, leaving me with nothing to do but listen to those distant cries and worry.

As the sky outside began to darken, the door finally opened. My father stood there, his face flushed with joy despite his obvious exhaustion. His eyes found mine immediately, sparkling with excitement.

"Kepa!" I called out, genuinely happy to see him looking so animated despite his usual frailty.

"There's my boy," he said warmly, smiling as I toddled toward him. "Have you been waiting to meet your sister?"

Sister. The word stirred something deep inside me - memories of family and love that still felt so recent, so raw.

"Would you like to meet her?" Jaehaerys asked, carefully lifting me into his arms.

As we walked through the corridors, my father's joy was palpable. "She's perfect, Aerys. Just perfect. Your mother did so well." His voice was tired but filled with pride.

When we entered the chamber, my breath caught at the sight of my mother. Shaera was propped against a mountain of pillows, her silver-gold hair darkened with sweat and falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Despite her obvious exhaustion, there was a radiance about her that transcended mere physical beauty.

"Come meet your sister, sweetling," Shaera called softly, her voice hoarse but warm.

In her arms was a tiny bundle wrapped in the black and red of House Targaryen. As my father carried me closer, I got my first look at my sister's face, and the world seemed to stop. She was impossibly small, with wisps of silver-gold hair, but when her eyes opened - those beautiful violet eyes - I felt my heart stop. There was something in them, something hauntingly familiar that made my chest tighten with recognition.

The way she looked at me, the slight tilt of her head, the curious gleam in those eyes - it was pure Rey. My Rey. Regan. The girl I'd loved, the one I'd pushed out of the way of that car. The memory of her face in those final moments was still so fresh, so vivid it made my chest ache.

A small giggle escaped Rhaella's lips as she looked at me, and the sound was so achingly familiar it brought tears to my eyes. How many times had I heard that same laugh from Rey during our study sessions? It felt like only yesterday we were sitting in the library, her wild auburn curls falling over her textbook as she teased me about spending too much time studying.

Without thinking, overcome by emotion, I reached out and whispered: "Rey."

The nickname slipped out naturally, just as it had that first day in biology class. My sister's tiny hand reached for mine, and when her fingers wrapped around mine, I felt something inside me break and heal simultaneously.

"Look how she responds to him," Shaera said softly, her own eyes glistening with happy tears.

But I barely heard her. I was lost in those violet eyes that somehow held echoes of the hazel ones I'd known such a short time ago. It wasn't just a passing resemblance anymore - it was as if some part of Rey was here, looking back at me through my sister's eyes. The realization hit me hard, making me acutely aware of just how impossible it would be to ever see Rey again.

"Rey," I said again, my voice thick with emotion I couldn't fully express. She giggled again, her tiny fingers tightening around mine, and I felt tears sliding down my cheeks. The sound of her laughter - so like Rey's - made the distance between then and now feel both vast and nonexistent.

"Oh, sweetling," Shaera said, concerned. "Are you upset?"

"No," Jaehaerys said thoughtfully, studying my face. "Those aren't sad tears, are they, my boy? You're just overcome with love for your sister."

He was right, though not in the way he imagined. These were tears for Rey, for all I'd left behind, and for this unexpected gift - this tiny being who somehow carried echoes of the girl I'd loved. It wasn't reincarnation or magic - it was simpler and more complex than that. It was finding fragments of familiar love in this strange new reality I was still trying to understand.

"My Rey," I whispered, watching as she smiled at me - that same bright, unguarded smile that had first drawn me to Regan in freshman biology. The memory was so fresh it hurt, yet here was this new smile, somehow both different and achingly familiar.

Rhaella made a soft cooing sound, her eyes never leaving my face, and I felt my heart constrict with a confused mix of loss and love. The girl I'd loved was gone - I'd never see her again, never hear her laugh or feel her kiss or share those dreams of MIT and the future. But here was this tiny sister, somehow carrying echoes of Rey's spirit in her violet eyes and bell-like giggle.

"Would you like to kiss your sister?" Shaera asked gently, noticing how intently I was studying Rhaella's face.

I leaned forward carefully, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Another giggle, another squeeze of her tiny fingers, and I felt more tears falling. In that moment, the reality of my situation hit me with full force - I would never see Rey again, never see Marcus or my parents or anyone from before. Yet somehow, impossibly, I'd found this small piece of familiarity in my sister's eyes.

"She loves you already," Jaehaerys said proudly, but I could barely respond through the emotion tightening my throat.

Looking into those violet eyes that somehow held Rey's spirit, I made a silent promise. I would protect her with everything I had, not just from the future I knew about, but with all the love I still carried for Rey. She would be safe, happy, free to be herself - everything both Rhaella and Rey deserved.

"My precious Rey," I whispered, watching as her eyes started to drift closed, though her grip on my finger remained strong. The nickname meant something different now - it was both memory and promise, past and present, loss and discovery all wrapped together.

A gentle knock at the door drew my attention, and my grandparents entered the chamber. Grandmother Betha had changed from her earlier robes, having stepped out to fetch Grandfather while Jaehaerys was getting me. Even without his crown, Aegon carried himself with natural dignity, though his face softened with emotion as he approached the bed.

"Another little dragon," he said warmly, moving to Shaera's side. His violet eyes were bright with unshed tears. "And what a perfect little thing she is."

I watched them gather around the bed, this family that had somehow become mine. My chest felt tight with a mix of emotions I couldn't fully understand - grief for what I'd lost still raw and fresh yet tangled with a growing love for these people who surrounded me now.

"Would you like to hold your granddaughter, Father?" Shaera asked softly.

With infinite tenderness, Aegon gathered Rhaella into his arms. She didn't stir, sleeping peacefully as newborns do, her tiny fingers finally releasing their grip on mine. I felt strangely adrift without that connection, like losing Rey's hand all over again.

"She has your nose, Shaera," Betha observed, moving to stand beside her husband. She reached out to stroke Rhaella's cheek with a gentle finger. "Though those eyes - pure Targaryen."

"She's already stolen Aerys's heart," Jaehaerys said proudly, adjusting his hold on me. "He called her Rey the moment he saw her."

Something flickered in my grandmother's dark eyes - a hint of that perceptiveness that sometimes made me wonder if she saw more than she let on. "Rey?" she repeated softly. "How lovely. It suits her somehow."

"She'll need a wet nurse," Aegon said, still gazing at my sleeping sister's face. "You should rest, Shaera."

"I'll feed her myself," my mother replied with quiet steel in her voice. "Just as I did with Aerys."

"Of course you will," Betha said, giving her husband a look that settled the matter. She turned to me then, her eyes gentle. "And how do you feel about being a big brother, my clever boy?"

I met my grandmother's gaze, my heart full of things I couldn't express. "Love Rey," I said simply, because it was true in ways they'd never understand. The nickname felt right, like finding something familiar in this strange new world.

Rhaella stirred slightly in our grandfather's arms, her eyes opening briefly before closing again. In that fleeting moment, something in her sleepy gaze reminded me so much of Rey that it hurt. Even as a newborn, there was something in her features that brought back vivid memories of the girl I'd loved.

"Would you like to take her, Mother?" Aegon offered, but Betha shook her head.

"Let me hold Aerys," she suggested instead. "Give Jaehaerys a chance with his daughter."

My grandmother's arms were warm and secure as she took me, her familiar scent bringing back a sharp memory of my mother - my first mother - making breakfast on school mornings. The pain of that memory mixed with the comfort of Betha's embrace in a way that made my eyes sting with tears.

I watched as my father carefully took Rhaella, his hands trembling slightly but his hold secure. "Hello, my little Rey," he whispered, and the tender way he said it made my chest tight with emotion. The love in his voice was so real, so present, even as my heart ached with memories of another life still so fresh in my mind.

"She's perfect," Shaera said softly from the bed, and I could hear the exhaustion and joy mingling in her voice. "Our little family."

Watching them together, I felt the strange double vision that had become my reality - memories of my old family overlapping with this new one, both equally real, equally loved. The pain of loss was still there, raw and fresh, but somehow it made the love I felt for these people, for my tiny sister, even more precious.

Rhaella made a tiny sound in her sleep, and when her eyes fluttered open again, she seemed to look right at me. For just a moment, I saw Rey in her face - not because she was unusually alert or aware, but because something in her peaceful expression brought back memories of quiet moments of her.

"Rey," I said again, reaching toward her from my grandmother's arms. Betha carried me closer, letting me touch my sister's hand. When her tiny fingers curled around mine - that simple reflex all babies have - it felt like finding a piece of home I thought I'd lost forever.

"They'll be inseparable," Jaehaerys predicted softly.

---

249 AC, Red Keep.

The sound of chalk scratching against slate filled Maester Walys's study as I carefully traced out my letters. Three and a half years had passed since Rey's birth, and those years had brought more changes than I could have imagined.

"Remarkable progress, my prince," Maester Walys praised, examining my practice slate. "Your letters are exceptionally neat for one so young." The elderly maester's chain clinked softly as he leaned closer to inspect my work.

I carefully maintained a look of childish concentration, though internally I had to suppress a smile. Being a toddler again was frustrating in many ways, but there was a certain satisfaction in "learning" things I already knew. The trick was making my progress seem natural - advanced, but not impossibly so.

Rey's presence had actually made this easier. Having a little sister gave me the perfect excuse to simplify things when needed. She had grown into a bright, curious child who followed me everywhere, her silver-gold curls bouncing as she toddled after me. At barely three, she was already showing signs of the sharp mind that had marked her in the other timeline, though here her curiosity seemed less weighted by duty and expectation.

"Aeys!" The familiar call came just as I was finishing the last letter. Rey appeared in the doorway, clutching her favorite wooden dragon, her silver-gold curls slightly mussed as if she'd been running through the castle searching for me. "Play now?"

Her timing was uncanny - she always seemed to know exactly when I was trying to focus on my studies. But it was hard to resist those wide violet eyes and the way she still struggled with pronouncing my name. She padded into the room with the determined grace only a toddler could manage, her little dragon clutched protectively to her chest.

"Careful with those books, little princess," Maester Walys called out good-naturedly as Rey navigated around the stacks of tomes I'd been studying. His weathered face creased with a warm smile as she made her way to my side, her free hand trailing along the spines of the books she passed.

"Book?" Rey asked, pointing at my slate with interest. She'd recently started showing curiosity about my lessons, often trying to mimic my writing with her own childish scribbles. The way her violet eyes tracked my hand movements showed the same sharp intelligence I remembered from the other timeline.

"That's right, sweetling," I said, careful to keep my vocabulary age-appropriate. "Would you like to learn too?" I shifted my slate so she could see better, though I kept it just out of reach of her eager hands.

Maester Walys chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Your brother has become quite the teacher himself," he remarked, watching as Rey settled herself beside me. "Why, just yesterday he helped me organize all my message scrolls by color instead of size. Now I can find urgent messages immediately just by looking for the red ribbons. Such a simple thing, but it's made my work so much easier."

I ducked my head modestly at the praise, though internally I was pleased. The color-coding system was something any bright child might think of, making it perfect for my carefully maintained facade. "Red is for important," I replied with carefully crafted innocence. "Like the dragon on our flag."

"And that's what makes teaching you such a joy, my prince," the maester said fondly, his chain clinking softly as he leaned back in his chair. "You make connections that surprise me every day. These past years have been as rewarding for me as I hope they've been for you."

Rey, growing impatient with our discussion, tugged at my sleeve with increasing insistence. "Aeys, dragon?" She held up her wooden toy hopefully. The carved beast was remarkably detailed, a gift from our Uncle Duncan who had commissioned it specially for her last nameday. Its scales had been carved with such precision that they caught the light like tiny stars.

"The dragons are flying today, are they?" Maester Walys smiled indulgently. He'd grown used to Rey's frequent interruptions of our lessons, often commenting how her presence seemed to bring out a gentler side of me. "Perhaps that's enough learning for today, my prince. You've earned some time with your sister." He began gathering up my practice slates, his weathered hands moving with practiced efficiency. "Though I must say, watching you two together reminds me why I chose to forge this chain - to see young minds grow and flourish, to watch bonds form and strengthen."

I could see genuine affection in the old maester's eyes as he watched Rey trying to make her dragon "fly" across my practice slate. These quiet moments in his study had become something I genuinely looked forward to - a place where I could let just a little more of my true capabilities show without raising too many suspicions.

"Remember, my prince," Maester Walys continued, carefully stacking the day's lessons, "your nameday celebration tomorrow will host many important guests. Perhaps you'd like to practice your courtesies one final time?"

My fifth nameday. The thought still felt strange sometimes. Five years in this new life, five years of careful planning and subtle changes. The celebration would bring together many of the realm's most powerful families - and more importantly, their children who would shape the future I remembered.

Rey tugged at my sleeve again, her wooden dragon now hovering near my ear. "Play now, Aeys? Promise!"

"Go on," Maester Walys chuckled, waving us toward the door. "We can review your courtesies later. Your sister has been patient long enough."

Taking Rey's small hand in mine, we made our way out of the maester's study and into the torch-lit corridor. The Red Keep was bustling with activity as servants prepared for tomorrow's festivities. As we rounded the corner toward the family's private quarters, we nearly collided with Aunt Rhaelle, who was attempting to straighten Steffon's perpetually rumpled doublet.

"Stand still, you little storm," she scolded fondly, though her violet eyes sparkled with amusement. "You look like you've been wrestling with your father's war horse again."

"Mother!" Steffon protested, squirming away from her adjusting hands. His face brightened when he spotted us. "Aerys! Rey! Save me from another changing!"

Rey giggled at our cousin's dramatic plea, her wooden dragon momentarily forgotten. "Steffon messy!" she declared with all the authority a three-year-old could muster.

"At least someone appreciates the importance of proper appearance," Aunt Rhaelle said, giving up on Steffon's doublet with a resigned sigh. She turned to me with a warm smile. "And how was your lesson today, nephew? Still impressing old Maester Walys with your quick mind?"

I carefully modulated my response, keeping it appropriately childlike despite my inner amusement. "We practiced letters, Aunt Rhaelle. And Rey helped!"

"Did she now?" Rhaelle knelt down to Rey's level, her own silver-gold hair catching the torchlight. "Are you following in your clever brother's footsteps, little one?"

"I draw dragon!" Rey announced proudly, demonstrating by making her wooden toy swoop through the air.

"More like scribbles," Steffon added helpfully, dodging his mother's reproachful swat. "But better scribbles than last time!"

I watched their interaction with careful interest. This easy familiarity between cousins was something the histories had never captured - the way Steffon's boisterous nature brought out Rey's playful side, how Aunt Rhaelle's eyes softened watching all of us together. These were the moments that made my task feel both more urgent and more complex. Every change I made would ripple through these relationships in ways I couldn't always predict.

The sound of hurried footsteps interrupted our family moment. A messenger appeared, slightly out of breath, bowing deeply as he recognized us. "Your Graces, my lady," he addressed us formally, including Rey in the courtesy despite her age. "The Lannister party has been sighted approaching the Lion Gate. His Grace King Aegon requests the family's presence in the courtyard to receive them."

Steffon could barely contain himself at the news, bouncing on his toes as he grabbed his mother's skirts. "Lions, Mama! Can you believe it? Real lions from the Rock!" His voice echoed through the corridor, making several passing servants hide their smiles.

"Want see lions too!" Rey declared, hugging her wooden dragon tighter. She looked up at me with those familiar violet eyes. "Aeys come?"

"Of course I'm coming," I said, taking her small hand. "Someone has to make sure you don't try to take one of the lions home."

Aunt Rhaelle smoothed Rey's curls back with a fond smile. "Come along then. We shouldn't keep everyone waiting." She reached for Steffon's hand, but he was already racing ahead, his laughter bouncing off the stone walls. "Steffon! Not so fast!"

The castle was alive with activity as we made our way to the courtyard. Servants rushed past with linens and decorations for tomorrow's feast. The kitchens had been busy since dawn - the smell of fresh bread and roasting meat filled the air, mixing with the scent of flowers. The Tyrells had outdone themselves, arriving that morning with wagons full of blooms from Highgarden's famous gardens.

The sight of Lady Olenna beside Lord Luthor Tyrell as they directed servants with their flowers brought back memories of a different garden scene, three years ago. I'd been sitting with Rey on a blanket, watching her tiny hands grasp at flower petals while Mother rested nearby. The morning had been peaceful - Rey delighting us all by showing off her newfound ability to roll over, Mother's gentle praise encouraging each attempt.

The first hint something was wrong came from the servants - hushed whispers and hurried steps as they passed through the gardens. Then Septa Meryll appeared, her normally composed face tight with worry as she whispered something to Mother. I remember how Mother's expression changed, the way her hands stilled in Rey's hair.

The rumors spread through the castle like wildfire - Uncle Daeron had refused the betrothal to Lady Olenna. By midday, even the kitchen maids were whispering about the argument in the small council chambers, though few understood the true weight of it. I remember holding Rey closer as the tension in the castle grew, her violet eyes watching the agitated servants with quiet curiosity.

Looking back, there had been signs long before that day - small things that painted a clearer picture for those who paid attention. The way Uncle Daeron would find urgent business elsewhere whenever marriage discussions arose, how his smiles grew strained at the mention of eligible ladies, the careful way he kept his distance at feasts and gatherings. It was there in a hundred tiny moments, if you knew how to look.

Hours later, when the shouting died down, Olenna emerged with her head high and eyes flashing. She'd looked at Uncle Daeron for a long moment, something like understanding passing between them, before turning on her heel and leaving the Red Keep that very night. Rey had started fussing then, as if sensing the tension in the air, and not even her wooden dragon could calm her. But what struck me most was how Olenna had paused, just briefly, to whisper something to Jeremy that made his rigid posture soften slightly with relief.

Her marriage to Luthor Tyrell mere months later had sparked plenty of gossip, but nothing compared to the private storm within our family. Grandfather and Grandmother had been furious - not just at the broken betrothal, but at the reason behind it, a truth they chose to bury in angry silence rather than acknowledge openly.

I remember the night before Daeron left for Dragonstone. The family had gathered for what was meant to be a farewell dinner, though it felt more like a silent battle. Grandfather sat at the head of the table, his normally kind features hardened with a mix of anger and hurt that seemed to deepen with each passing moment.

"You'll have time to reflect on your duties at Dragonstone," Grandmother said, her dark eyes flashing. "Away from... certain influences that have clouded your judgment."

"Mother-" Uncle Duncan started, but Grandfather's fist hitting the table silenced the room.

"Four children," he said, his voice quiet but trembling with emotion, none of them good. "Four children who have defied both their mother and me. Duncan with Jenny, Jaehaerys and Shaera running off together, and now you, Daeron." He looked around the table, his eyes lingering on each of his children. "Only Rhaelle had the sense to honor her betrothal to Ormund, and that was more luck than duty that they actually wanted each other."

Mother shifted beside me, adjusting Rey in her arms as my sister slept through the tension. Little Aemon dozed against Aunt Jenny's shoulder, his red curls stark against her simple dress.

"I made peace with your choices," Grandfather continued, looking at Uncle Duncan and my parents. "Found ways to accept what couldn't be changed. But this..." He shook his head, the hurt in his eyes raw and real. "This is the last straw, Daeron."

When Ser Jeremy tried to enter the dining hall, Ser Duncan the Tall stopped him with a gentle but firm hand. "Best wait outside, lad," he said quietly, but his towering presence left no room for argument.

"Even now-" Grandmother started, but Grandfather's raised hand silenced her.

"We will maintain what dignity we can," he said, though his voice carried a deep weariness. "Gods know we have little enough left."

The meal continued in tense silence, broken only by Uncle Duncan's attempts at conversation and Aunt Jenny's soft humming to keep Aemon asleep. Grandfather barely touched his food, his expression growing heavier with each passing moment.

Mother was the only one to embrace Uncle Daeron properly before he left, balancing Rey carefully as she whispered something that made him hug her tighter. Aunt Jenny gave him a quick, fierce hug as well, while Uncle Duncan clasped his brother's shoulder.

Just before Daeron turned to leave, Grandfather spoke one final time. "You could have had everything," he said softly. "All of you could have had the lives we planned, the futures we dreamed of for you."

"We have the lives we chose," Daeron replied quietly, meeting his father's eyes. "Even if they're not the ones you wanted for us."

Then he was gone, leaving the weight of a defied betrothal and a father's broken dreams hanging in the air behind him.

The past three years had changed us all in subtle ways. Mother became more protective of Rey and me, her love taking on an almost fierce quality. But the most remarkable change was in Grandfather. After Daeron left, he seemed to pour all his paternal energy into being a grandfather. He'd spend hours with us in the gardens, telling stories of his youth or teaching me about the realm between my lessons. Even Rey, barely more than a babe, would light up at his approach, her tiny hands reaching for his crown whenever he bent to kiss her forehead.

Even Grandmother's legendary stubbornness had begun to thaw, if only slightly. Her sharp remarks about "proper behavior" became less frequent, though the reports from Dragonstone still brought a tightness to her mouth. Still, I'd catch her watching Rey and me sometimes, something soft breaking through her stern expression.

This gathering marked one of the first times we'd all been together in the Red Keep since then. The wounds were still fresh, but there was a different quality to the tension now - less anger, more of a quiet resignation mixed with the first hints of acceptance. Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny helped, their little Aemon's laughter often breaking through the heaviest silences.

I caught Uncle Daeron watching Rey and me earlier, something wistful in his expression that lifted only when we approached him. He had found his own way forward, it seemed, even if it wasn't the sort celebrated in songs or discussed at feast days. Perhaps that was enough.

The courtyard was alive with activity as we approached. Grandfather and Grandmother stood at the center, her dark hair a sharp contrast to the Targaryen silver-gold around her. My parents waited nearby - Father looking stronger than he had in weeks, Mother radiant in a gown of black and scarlet.

Uncle Duncan and Aunt Jenny stood with their son Aemon, his red curls blazing like a beacon among the Targaryen silver-gold. Uncle Daeron had positioned himself slightly apart, though I noticed how Grandfather's eyes would occasionally drift his way, carrying a mix of lingering hurt and reluctant understanding.

"There you are!" Mother called out warmly. "We were starting to worry."

"Found them with Maester Walys," Aunt Rhaelle explained as she caught up with us. "Your son's becoming quite the scholar, Shaera."

Mother tried to hide her proud smile. "He does enjoy his lessons."

Steffon had already made his way to Uncle Ormund, who pulled him into a warm embrace before having him stand beside him and Aunt Rhaelle. The way she immediately moved closer to them both, her husband's hand finding hers, spoke volumes about the happiness of their match. Unlike some recent family unions, theirs had brought only joy and stronger alliances.

"Over here, children," Grandmother called, gesturing us closer. "They'll be arriving any moment."

I led Rey to stand between our parents.

The clatter of hooves and wheels against cobblestones announced the Lannisters' arrival before they appeared. Lord Tytos Lannister rode ahead of the wheelhouse, his crimson cloak billowing behind him as he entered the main courtyard with all the subtlety of a charging bull. His face was split by a broad, eager grin that reminded me painfully of Mace Tyrell in all the worst ways. If this was what Lady Jeyne had to contend with daily, I could only imagine her suffering – much like poor Lady Olenna in that other life.

"Your Grace!" Lord Tytos boomed, practically falling from his horse in his haste to kneel. "What an absolute honor! The Red Keep looks magnificent – though not quite as magnificent as you, Queen Betha! And Prince Duncan, you're looking well! Prince Jaehaerys, how fares your health? Princess Shaera, that dress is simply stunning!"

His rapid-fire greetings continued as the wheelhouse drew to a stop, his voice carrying across the courtyard with all the subtlety of a mummer's farce. I noticed several of the assembled courtiers wincing at his volume, while Uncle Duncan seemed to be fighting to maintain his composed expression.

Young Tywin emerged from the wheelhouse first, and the contrast between father and son couldn't have been more striking. At six namedays, he moved with a deliberate grace that his father utterly lacked, immediately turning to assist his mother's descent. There was something touching about how he offered his small hand with such grave courtesy, his green-flecked golden eyes alert and watchful.

I caught the slight stiffening of Tywin's shoulders as his father continued his enthusiastic, meandering conversation with the king. His composure never wavered though, even as Lord Tytos's voice echoed across the courtyard, each word seeming to pain the boy more than the last. With careful movements, he helped little Genna, who couldn't have been more than three, carefully step down from the wheelhouse. Behind them came Kevan, not yet five, trying to mirror his brother's dignified movements with an earnestness that was rather endearing.

"Lion pretty," Rey whispered, pressing closer to my side as she watched the Lannisters approach. Her wooden dragon was clutched protectively to her chest, its carved scales catching the morning light.

"Very pretty," I agreed softly, noting how even at this young age, Tywin carried himself with a pride that bordered on severity. The boy who would become the Old Lion was already showing his claws, though they were still small ones.

Lady Jeyne looked pale and tired, but she managed a graceful curtsy before my grandfather. Lord Tytos, meanwhile, had launched into an enthusiastic description of their journey, complete with what seemed to be a detailed accounting of every inn they'd stopped at and every meal they'd eaten. Grandmother's smile had become rather fixed, while Uncle Daeron was staring at a point somewhere over Lord Tytos's shoulder with the desperate look of a man seeking escape.

I saw young Tywin's jaw tighten again as he guided his mother and siblings forward. Lady Jeyne moved with quiet grace, one hand resting proudly on her eldest son's shoulder as they approached.

"Your Grace," Lady Jeyne curtsied perfectly, her children following suit with bows and curtsies of their own. Even little Genna managed a wobbly attempt.

"Big lions," Rhaella whispered, clutching her dragon figure tighter. "Scary."

"Not scary," Steffon declared boldly. "Just new friends!"

I noticed how Tywin's carefully controlled expression softened slightly when he looked at Rhaella and Steffon. While his father continued to boom inappropriate jokes that made Uncle Duncan hide a smile behind his hand, Tywin maintained his composure, though his hand never left his little sister's.

"Sweetling," Lady Jeyne said softly to her eldest, "why don't you introduce yourself to Prince Aerys? You're close in age."

Something in Tywin's expression shifted at his mother's gentle encouragement. He stepped forward and executed a perfect bow. "Prince Aerys. Thank you for including us in your nameday celebrations."

"Welcome to King's Landing," I replied, stepping forward to meet him. Up close, I could see the intelligence in his green-flecked golden eyes, but also the weariness that no six-year-old should carry.

"Play later?" Rhaella asked suddenly, her natural friendliness overcoming her initial shyness. She looked at Genna specifically. "With dolly?"

I saw genuine warmth flash across Tywin's face as he looked between his little sister and mine. "Genna would like that," he said, gentler than before. His hand reached back to encourage his sister forward. "Wouldn't you, Genna?"

Genna peeked out, clutching her brother's hand but looking interested. "Got dolly too," she said shyly.

"Wonderful!" Grandfather Aegon smiled warmly. "Why don't we all move inside? I'm sure you'd like to refresh yourselves after your journey."

The procession into the Red Keep began to form, with Grandfather and Grandmother leading the way. Lord Tytos continued his animated chatter, now regaling anyone within earshot about the magnificent views of the Blackwater they'd seen on their approach. Lady Jeyne walked with quiet dignity beside him, occasionally placing a gentle hand on his arm when his gestures became too wild.

Uncle Duncan fell into step beside Lady Jeyne, kindly drawing her into conversation about their journey, while Uncle Daeron and Aunt Rhaelle followed with their respective families. The other nobles who had gathered to witness the arrival began to disperse, though I noticed more than a few lingering glances at the peculiar sight of the Lord of Casterly Rock's enthusiastic gesticulations.

Steffon had already struck up an animated conversation with Kevan about the wooden sword at his belt, the two boys falling naturally into step together as they followed their parents. Gennavb held Rey's hand as they walked ahead of us, both girls chattering about their dolls while Genna listened intently, still half-hidden behind her brother.

As the adults moved toward the Great Hall, I noticed Tywin lingering behind. He was watching his father's retreating form with a frown too heavy for a child's face. I knew that look - it was the same one I used to see in the mirror back in my first life, when I was trying to be the responsible one, the mature one. And here was Tywin, barely six years old, already carrying that same weight.

" "Want to see something special?" I asked softly, deliberately keeping my tone casual. "There's a place where you can see the whole city spread out before you, all the way to the Blackwater Bay."

Tywin glanced at me, and momentarily I saw his carefully maintained dignity waver. There was genuine curiosity in those green-flecked golden eyes, though he tried to mask it. "Better than the throne room?"

"Much better," I said, letting myself smile. "Everyone sees the throne - it's impressive, sure, but it's still just a chair when you think about it, and not even a comfortable one. But seeing the whole city, understanding how it all fits together..." I trailed off, remembering how I loved getting the bigger picture of things, seeing how all the pieces connected.

That caught his interest properly. His eyes met mine, studying my face with an intensity that seemed far too mature for his six years. "Father says the Iron Throne is the center of power in the Seven Kingdoms."

"It is," I agreed, respecting his understanding of politics even at this age. "But to rule well, you need to see beyond just the throne, right? You need to understand what you're ruling."

He straightened slightly at that, and I saw real appreciation flash across his face - not just for the invitation, but for treating his intelligence with respect. Still, he hesitated, glancing toward where we could still hear his father's booming laughter echoing down the corridor. "I should stay with Mother and Genna..."

"They're looking at dolls with my sister," I said gently. "And the adults are all caught up in formal greetings. We won't be gone long - just enough time to see something worth remembering."

The afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the Red Keep, casting long shadows across the stone floor. I could see Tywin weighing the decision in his mind, his small fingers unconsciously smoothing the crimson fabric of his doublet – a habit I'd noticed he had when deep in thought.

"The view changes as the sun moves," I added quietly. "Right now, the light catches the buildings just right, making the whole city glow like beaten gold. Later, it'll all be shadows and copper. Each time of day shows you something different about King's Landing."

That scholarly detail seemed to tip the balance. Tywin considered this for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a small nod that carried all the gravity of a royal decree, he said, "Very well. But we should be quick about it."

The climb up the serpentine steps was silent save for our footfalls on the stone. Tywin took each step with deliberate care, his eyes constantly moving, mapping our route. Even at six, he was already learning to memorize the paths to power.

When we finally reached the top, I guided him to the best vantage point. The city spread out before us like a living map – the maze of streets, the gleaming Sept of Baelor, the sprawling markets, and beyond it all, the glittering expanse of the Blackwater Bay.

Tywin's carefully maintained composure slipped for just a moment. His eyes widened slightly, drinking in the sight of the entire city laid out at his feet. The sun caught his golden hair as he leaned forward slightly, his hands gripping the stone parapet.

"You can see everything from here," he breathed, almost forgetting to keep his voice measured. "The Street of Steel, the Dragon Pit, the River Gate..."

"And all the people," I added softly. "Each of those tiny dots moving through the streets has their own life, their own purpose. From up here, you can start to see how it all works together."

He nodded slowly, his eyes tracking the movement of ships in the harbor. "Like pieces on a cyvasse board," he murmured, "but real."

"Where you going?" A familiar voice suddenly boomed behind us. Steffon's excited face popped around the corner, his black hair tousled as always. "Can I come too? Mother's talking about boring stuff with Lady Jeyne."

I saw Tywin tense slightly at the interruption, his formal mask sliding back into place as Steffon bounded over with all the unstoppable energy of a four-year-old Baratheon. The contrast between them was stark – Tywin in his perfectly arranged crimson and gold, every inch the little lord, and Steffon with his collar askew and a smudge of something sweet still visible at the corner of his mouth.

"Lord Steffon," Tywin began with careful courtesy, but I gently cut him off.

"When it's just us, we don't need titles," I said warmly, remembering how exhausting it had been maintaining appearances at their age. "We're friends here, Tywin. Our names will do fine."

Tywin's expression flickered – surprise, then consideration, then a careful sort of hope. He looked at Steffon again, this time seeing past the disheveled appearance to the genuine warmth in the younger boy's smile.

"Look!" Steffon rushed to the parapet, nearly bouncing with excitement. "You can see everything! Is that where the dragons used to live? And look at all the ships!"

I watched as Tywin's annoyance at the interruption slowly gave way to something else – perhaps a recognition that sometimes, seeing things through another's eyes could reveal yet another perspective on power, on friendship, and on the city that lay before them, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

Steffon beamed at this, practically vibrating with excitement as he looked between us. His black hair caught the light as he bounced on his toes, reminding me of a small crow barely containing its energy. "You've got yellow hair like Aeys, but your eyes are different. They're pretty!"

The sheer earnestness of the compliment, combined with the permission to be informal, seemed to catch Tywin off guard. I watched as the careful mask he wore flickered, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He blinked, his carefully maintained composure wavering for just a moment. In that brief instance, I could see the six-year-old boy beneath all that Lannister dignity.

"Thank you... Steffon," he said, testing the casual address like someone trying out unfamiliar words in a foreign tongue. His voice carried just a hint of uncertainty, so different from his usual measured tones. "I'm Tywin."

The words hung in the air between them – simple, unadorned by titles or ceremony. Just two boys, standing high above a city that would one day look to them for leadership. The contrast between them was striking: Tywin in his perfectly arranged crimson and gold, every inch the little lord, and Steffon with his rumpled clothes and that ever-present look of joy that seemed to radiate from within.

"Tywin and I were just looking at the view," I explained to Steffon, watching as the younger boy's eyes grew wide with wonder at the sight of the city spread out below us. As I observed their interaction, a new thought began to form. "But you know what would be even more interesting?"

A mischievous thought struck me. For once, I wasn't thinking about future implications or careful plans. Looking at these two boys - one trying so hard to be grown up, the other embracing every moment of childhood - I suddenly wanted nothing more than to just... play. To give them both a chance to simply be children, if only for a moment. And of course to further foster the brotherhood between us that would shape westeros for the better when it's my time to mount the Iron throne with them at my side

"Want to see something really interesting?" I asked, feeling a grin spread across my face. The afternoon sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the stones beneath our feet. "There's a secret passage near the kitchens. The cooks are making treats for tomorrow's feast..."

Steffon's eyes lit up immediately, bright as stars. "Adventure! Can we, can we?" He was practically dancing in place now, all thoughts of formal introductions forgotten in the face of potential excitement.

Tywin tried to maintain his serious expression, but I could see curiosity fighting with his natural caution. His fingers unconsciously smoothed his doublet – that telling gesture I'd noticed earlier. "We shouldn't..." he started, then stopped as the distant sound of his father's booming laughter echoed down the corridor. Something shifted in his expression, like a door slowly opening. "How secret is this passage?"

"Very secret," I assured him, lowering my voice conspiratorially and leaning in closer. The stone walls around us seemed to lean in too, as if sharing in our conspiracy. "Even the guards don't know about it. I found it by accident when I was hiding from my sister."

"Not getting caught is important," Tywin said seriously, but there was a gleam in his eye that made him look his age for once. His hands had stopped fidgeting with his clothes, and I could see him already beginning to think through the tactical advantages of such knowledge. "For... for practicing stealth."

"Like knights on a secret mission!" Steffon bounced excitedly, his voice carrying just a bit too far until both Tywin and I instinctively shushed him. He clapped his hands over his mouth, but his eyes were still dancing with barely suppressed giggles.

"Exactly," I agreed, fighting back a laugh at Tywin's attempt to justify potential mischief as a learning experience. It was endearing how he needed to frame everything as a lesson, even the simple joy of sneaking about with other children. "Follow me and remember - we have to be quiet."

Steffon immediately pressed his fingers to his lips, though his eyes were dancing with suppressed giggles. Even Tywin seemed to be fighting a small smile as we crept down the corridor together, the late afternoon light painting long shadows on the walls around us. The passage I'd found wasn't really all that secret - it was just an old servant's shortcut that had fallen into disuse. But as we slipped through the narrow corridor, with Steffon making exaggerated tiptoeing motions and Tywin checking around every corner with endearing seriousness, it felt like we were on a real adventure.

"Smells good," Steffon whispered loudly as we neared the kitchens. The scent of baking honey cakes and other sweets filled the air.

"Shhh," Tywin hushed him, but he was leaning forward too, trying to peek through a gap in the wall. "I think I see the cooks..."

I led them to a small alcove where we could watch the kitchen activity without being seen. The cooks were busy preparing for tomorrow's feast, and trays of cooling treats lined every available surface.

"Look!" Steffon pointed excitedly. "Lemon cakes! Like you said!"

"Quiet," Tywin reminded him, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. If anything, he seemed fascinated by the organized chaos of the kitchen.

"We could probably grab a few without anyone noticing," I suggested, surprising myself. I hadn't planned this - it was the kind of impulsive thing a real five-year-old might suggest. But looking at my companions' faces, I suddenly wanted nothing more than to pull off this small heist with them.

I watched as Tywin's eyes stayed fixed on the cooling cakes, his natural caution warring with obvious temptation. "That would be stealing," he said slowly, but I could tell his heart wasn't quite in the objection. "Although... they did make extra. I heard the head cook mention it earlier."

"If they made too many, we're helping them!" Steffon declared with flawless four-year-old logic, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Can't let good cakes go to waste."

I couldn't help but grin, watching these two very different boys united in their desire for sweets. A plan was already taking shape in my mind, and before I knew it, I found myself humming under my breath. "Dun dun dun dun-dun, dun dun dun dun-dun..."

"What's that you're humming?" Tywin asked, momentarily distracted from the cakes by my strange melody.

"Oh, nothing," I said quickly, trying not to laugh as I imagined us as some medieval version of Mission: Impossible. "Just something that came to mind. But listen," I continued, leaning in conspiratorially, "if we're going to do this, we need to be smart about it. Each of us has something to bring to this mission."

Tywin's eyebrow rose slightly at my suddenly professional tone, but I could see him getting drawn into the spirit of things. "And what parts would those be?" he asked, his natural strategic mind already engaging with the problem.

"Well," I said, crouching down and motioning them closer, "Tywin, you're the tallest and most nimble. You could easily reach the back of that table without making a sound. Steffon's quick eyes make him the perfect lookout. And I..." I paused for dramatic effect, "I can create quite the distraction."

"Rather than objecting as I half-expected, Tywin studied the kitchen layout with the same intensity he'd shown examining the city view. I could see his mind already working through every detail. "The cooks always turn toward the main door when someone important enters," he observed thoughtfully. "A prince would certainly draw their attention..."

"I'm the best at watching!" Steffon whispered excitedly, bouncing on his toes. "Mother says I see things I'm not supposed to all the time!"

"Now, we need a proper plan," I said, trying to sound serious despite plotting to steal cakes. "Signal system for warnings, escape routes, the works."

Tywin, bless him, took to the planning phase like a duck to water. He devised a series of hand signals we could use to communicate - one for danger, one for all clear, and one for immediate retreat. Meanwhile, Steffon practiced what he called his "all clear" whistle, though it sounded more like a strangled seabird than any bird call I'd ever heard. His sheer enthusiasm made up for it though."

"The timing has to be perfect," Tywin insisted, sketching a rough layout of the kitchen in the dust with a stick. "The moment the cooks turn, I'll have exactly three seconds to reach the table, grab the cakes, and retreat before they might look back."

"I'll make sure to be extra distracting," I promised, fighting back another Mission Impossible reference that nobody here would understand. "Just remember - if anything goes wrong, we scatter and meet back here. No heroes, no last-minute grabs."

"Like real spies!" Steffon whispered excitedly, though thankfully not loud enough to carry.

"Exactly like that," I agreed, watching Tywin as he continued refining our plan. Despite his serious demeanor, I could see genuine excitement building in his eyes. This wasn't the future Hand of the King right now - this was just a six-year-old boy plotting to steal sweets with his friends.

"Are we ready?" I asked, unable to suppress my grin. For once, I wasn't thinking about future plots or careful schemes - this was pure childhood mischief, and I was loving every second of it.

Tywin hunched behind me, practically vibrating with excitement despite his attempts to look serious. From his spot by the corner, Steffon flashed us an eager thumbs up.

I took a deep breath, put on my most polite face, and stepped into the kitchen doorway. "Excuse me," I called out, "my mother and Lady Jeyne asked about the lemon cakes? For the girls in the gardens?"

The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity. The head cook, Marya, wiped her hands on her apron and turned to me with a flustered expression.

"Your Grace! Oh dear - was that meant to be now? For the Queen and Lady Lannister?" She turned to one of her assistants. "Berta, did anyone tell you when they wanted those sent out?"

Berta shook her head. "No, Marya. I knew we were making them for the afternoon, but no one specified a time."

"The cakes are just cooling now," another cook called out from near the ovens. "They need a bit longer before we can add the cream."

While the kitchen staff's attention was focused on the confusion I'd created, I caught the briefest glimpse of Tywin's shadow moving along the far wall. He'd memorized the layout during our planning, knowing exactly where the cooling racks would be.

"Perhaps there was a mix-up with the timing?" I suggested helpfully, keeping all eyes on me. "I just heard they wanted them while the girls were playing..."

"Would they want them in the gardens or the reception room?" Berta wondered aloud. From the corner of my eye, I saw Tywin's slight figure slip back into the shadows, mission accomplished. He'd moved like a ghost - I had to bite back a proud grin.

"No matter," I said quickly. "I'll let them know they're not quite ready. Better to wait until they're properly cooled anyway."

"Your Grace is very understanding," Marya said, looking relieved. "We'll send them out as soon as they're finished."

"Perfect," I smiled. "Thank you all for your help!"

We regrouped in our hidden passage, trying to stifle our laughter as we examined our prize.

"We did it!" Steffon whispered excitedly, practically vibrating with joy. "We're the best thieves ever!"

"Not thieves," Tywin corrected automatically, but he was actually smiling now - a real, proper smile that made him look his age. "We're... we're knights on a secret mission. Knights sometimes have to acquire supplies."

I nearly choked on my piece of lemon cake trying not to laugh at his attempt to maintain dignity while cream stuck to his nose. Steffon had no such restraint, giggling openly as he devoured his portion.

"Knights don't usually steal cakes," I pointed out, grinning.

"These are special cakes," Tywin declared with all the authority a six-year-old could muster. "They're... they're strategic cakes. For maintaining alliances."

That did it. All three of us dissolved into laughter, trying to muffle the sound against our sleeves as footsteps passed by outside our hiding spot.

"We should do this again tomorrow," Steffon suggested once we'd calmed down. "Maybe we could explore the dungeons next! Mother says there are dragon skulls down there."

I saw Tywin's eyes light up at the mention of dragons, though he tried to hide it. "That would be dangerous," he said, but not very convincingly.

"We'll be careful," I promised, surprising myself again with how much I wanted to continue this - not for any future plans or advantages, but simply because I was enjoying their company. "We could bring Rey and Genna, but they might be too scared."

"Genna's not scared of anything," Tywin said immediately, defensive of his sister. Then he added thoughtfully, "But she might tell Mother about the cakes."

"Tomorrow then," Steffon declared. "Just us. The three best knights in the kingdoms!"

"We should probably head back," Tywin said reluctantly, brushing crumbs from his doublet. "Mother will be wondering where we are."

As we made our way back to the family quarters, carefully checking for any signs of cream or crumbs that might give us away, I realized something. For the past hour, I hadn't thought once about the future. I'd just been a five-year-old boy having an adventure with his friends.

"That was fun," Tywin said quietly as we neared the sound of adult voices. He was already composing his features back into their usual serious expression, but something had changed. There was a warmth in his eyes when he looked at us now.

Here's a rewritten and expanded version of the scene:

"Best adventure ever!" Steffon declared, still bouncing despite our attempts to look innocent. "We should have a name for ourselves. All knights in stories have special names."

"The three dragons?" I suggested, then remembered only I was actually a dragon.

"The three knights," Tywin countered with surprising quickness. "Since we're on secret missions."

"The three friends," Steffon said simply, and somehow that felt more right than anything else.

Our triumph was short-lived, however. As we approached the entrance to the great hall, we found our mothers waiting for us, their expressions a mix of exasperation and barely concealed amusement.

"And where have you three been?" Mother asked, her violet eyes fixing on the telltale smudge of cream at the corner of my mouth.

Lady Jeyne's sharp eyes hadn't missed the similar evidence on Tywin's usually immaculate doublet. "Stealing sweets from the kitchen, perhaps?"

Steffon's guilty start at Aunt Rhaelle's raised eyebrow confirmed their suspicions better than any confession could have.

"It wasn't stealing," Tywin attempted, his usual composure slipping slightly. "We were... conducting a strategic resource acquisition."

That broke through our mothers' stern facades. Lady Jeyne pressed her lips together, fighting a smile, while Mother's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

"A strategic resource acquisition?" Aunt Rhaelle repeated, her voice trembling with amusement as she attempted to straighten Steffon's perpetually rumpled clothing. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"The cooks were very distressed," Mother said, though her eyes were twinkling. "Apparently someone caused quite a confusion about when the lemon cakes were needed, while others helped themselves to the cooling racks."

I watched Tywin's face flush slightly at the realization that our "perfect crime" hadn't been quite as stealthy as we'd imagined.

"It was my idea," I offered, not wanting my friends to take the blame. "I knew where the secret passage was."

"Secret passage?" Mother's voice sharpened instantly, all traces of amusement vanishing. Her face went pale. "You took them into one of Maegor's passages? Aerys, do you have any idea—" She stopped, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "Those passages are dangerous. Men have gotten lost in there and never found their way out. You could have—" Her voice caught, and I saw real fear in her eyes.

Lady Jeyne instinctively pulled Tywin closer to her side, while Aunt Rhaelle's hand tightened on Steffon's shoulder.

"It wasn't one of those passages," I said quickly, hearing the tremor in Mother's voice. "Just the old servant's corridor behind the kitchens. I wouldn't go into the other ones, I promise."

"Aerys is smart, Aunt Shaera," Steffon added helpfully, clearly trying to help but only making Mother's expression tighten further. "He knew exactly where we were going!"

"That's not—" Mother closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they were bright with barely contained emotion. "You are five namedyas old, sweetling. It doesn't matter how smart you are. Those passages are not a place for children to play. Any of them. Do you understand?"

The fear in her voice made my stomach twist with guilt far more than any disappointment about the stolen cakes could have. "I'm sorry, Mother. We won't do it again."

"Not the passages," she insisted. "Promise me, Aerys. No more secret passages, no matter how well you think you know them." She looked at Tywin and Steffon as well. "That goes for all of you."

"We promise," we mumbled in unison.

"We didn't mean to frighten anyone," Tywin added quietly, his usual composure softened by genuine remorse.

"I think," Aunt Rhaelle said after a moment, her stern expression softening, "that's quite enough excitement for one day. Perhaps it's time we all retired to our chambers. Tomorrow is an important day, after all."

"But we'll still see each other tomorrow, right?" Steffon asked anxiously, looking between Tywin and me. "For Aerys's nameday?"

Mother smiled gently. "Of course you will. Though perhaps with less sneaking about and stolen sweets."

"And more proper behavior befitting young lords and the future king" Lady Jeyne added, though her eyes were kind as she smoothed Tywin's slightly rumpled doublet.

"We'll help in the kitchens first," I promised quickly. "To make up for the trouble we caused."

Our mothers exchanged knowing looks, some unspoken understanding passing between them. Finally, Mother nodded. "That would be a good start. Though I expect all of you to think more carefully about your adventures in the future."

"Yes, Mother," we chorused, the words coming out slightly jumbled as we spoke together.

As Lady Jeyne produced a handkerchief to wipe the last traces of cream from Tywin's face, I noticed something different in his expression. The careful mask he usually wore had softened somehow, and there was a warmth in his eyes I hadn't seen before.

"You know," he said quietly, so only Steffon and I could hear, "today was... fun." He seemed almost surprised by the admission, as if he hadn't expected to enjoy himself quite so much.

"Even though we got caught?" Steffon whispered back, his dark eyes bright with mischief despite our scolding.

"Even then," Tywin agreed, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "Though next time, we should plan better."

"Next time?" I asked, feeling a grin spread across my face.

"Well, we are friends now, aren't we?" Tywin said it casually, but I could hear the hint of uncertainty in his voice, the question hidden beneath the statement.

"The best of friends," Steffon declared with absolute certainty, reaching out to grab both our hands. "The three friends, remember?"

"The three friends," I agreed warmly, watching as Tywin's careful expression bloomed into a real smile.

"Though perhaps friends who could use a bit more rest before tomorrow's festivities," Mother suggested, though her voice was gentle. "Come along now."

As we walked through the corridors toward our respective chambers, I noticed how our mothers had fallen into step together, their own friendship evident in their easy conversation. Aunt Rhaelle was telling a story about young Steffon's latest escapade in Storm's End that had Lady Jeyne hiding a laugh behind her hand, while Mother added her own tales of my childhood misadventures.

"Tomorrow will be amazing," Steffon whispered excitedly as we walked. "Better than any feast in Storm's End!"

"Because we'll be together," I said, realizing as I spoke how true it was. The formal celebrations wouldn't matter half as much as having my new friends there to share them.

"And no more secret passages," Tywin added seriously, though his eyes sparkled with suppressed amusement. "At least... not today."

We reached the junction where our paths would separate - Tywin and Lady Jeyne to the guest quarters, Steffon and Aunt Rhaelle to their usual rooms, and Mother and I to the family's private chambers.

"Sleep well, my little troublemakers," Aunt Rhaelle said fondly, steering Steffon toward their quarters.

"Dream of something other than sweets," Lady Jeyne suggested with a slight smile, though Tywin's perfectly composed expression suggested he'd never dream of such things.

As we parted ways, I caught one last glimpse of my friends. Steffon was practically skipping despite his mother's steadying hand, while Tywin walked with his usual dignity - though I noticed he kept glancing back, as if to make sure we were still there.

"Friends are a precious thing," Mother said softly as we walked to our chambers. "Especially ones who will share your adventures, even if those adventures sometimes lead to trouble."

---

The morning after our adventure found us in the kitchens, making amends under the watchful eye of the head cook, Marya. She had us kneading dough until our arms ached, though her stern expression softened when she saw how earnestly we worked. By the time we finished helping prepare the new batch of lemon cakes, even Tywin had flour in his hair.

When evening came, the great hall was transformed for my nameday feast, black and red Targaryen banners hanging from every wall. The long tables were laden with dishes from across the Seven Kingdoms - honey-roasted duck from the Reach, spiced lamb from Dorne, seafood fresh from the Blackwater Bay. The smells alone made my mouth water, and I noticed with pride the lemon cakes we'd helped make that morning arranged perfectly on silver platters.

My grandfather sat at the high table, his crown catching the light from hundreds of candles. Grandmother Betha was beside him, her dark eyes warm as she watched the gathering. My parents sat to their right - Father looking better than he had in weeks, a playful glint in his violet eyes whenever he glanced my way. I knew that look - Mother must have told him about our kitchen adventure. Mother herself was radiant in a gown of black and scarlet, though I noticed she kept a watchful eye on Rey, who was fidgeting with barely contained excitement beside her.

The gentle murmur of conversation filled the hall as lords and ladies took their seats, their rich clothes creating a sea of colors below the high table. Then Grandfather stood, his golden crown catching the light of hundreds of candles, and a hush fell over the gathering. Every eye turned toward him as he surveyed the assembled nobles, every inch the king despite the warmth in his violet eyes.

The great hall fell silent as Grandfather rose from his seat, his crown glinting in the candlelight. He cut an impressive figure, every inch the king despite the warmth in his violet eyes as he surveyed the gathered lords and ladies.

"My lords and ladies," his voice carried effortlessly through the hall, "I thank you all for joining us on this joyous occasion. Five namedays ago, the gods blessed our house with my first grandson." He paused, smiling down at where I sat. "Prince Aerys has brought nothing but pride and joy to our family, showing wisdom and curiosity beyond his years, every inch his namesake reborn."

I tried not to fidget under the attention, though I noticed Father's lips twitch slightly at the mention of wisdom. He'd been particularly amused by this morning's "wise" decision to help in the kitchens after yesterday's adventure.

"Let the feast begin," Grandfather declared, "and afterward, we shall present our gifts to celebrate Prince Aerys's nameday."

As servants began bringing out the first courses, I could hear Rey's excited whisper to Mother, "But when does Aeys get presents?" She was practically vibrating with anticipation, her wooden dragon clutched tightly in her small hands.

"After we eat, sweetling," Mother assured her, smoothing back Rey's silver-gold curls. "Remember what we discussed about patience?"

"But I want him to open them now!" Rey declared with all the authority her three and a half years could muster. Several nearby lords chuckled fondly at her enthusiasm.

Father leaned over to whisper something in Rey's ear that made her giggle and settle down, though she still bounced slightly in her seat. His eyes met mine across the table, and I could see him fighting back a smile - no doubt thinking of yesterday's kitchen escapade and this morning's redemptive baking session.

The feast itself was magnificent, with dishes from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms spread before us at the high table. From my seat between Mother and Father, I could see the entire hall - the lords and ladies in their finest clothes, the servants moving efficiently between tables, and most importantly, the fresh batch of lemon cakes we'd helped prepare that morning, arranged perfectly on silver platters. I caught Tywin's eye at the Lannister table and Steffon's at the Baratheon table, sharing subtle looks that spoke of our shared adventure and its aftermath.

Finally, as the last plates were being cleared away, Grandfather stood beside me, his presence commanding immediate attention. "Time for the gifts," he announced, his voice carrying easily across the hall.

I remained seated as servants began bringing the gifts forward to the high table. Beside me, Rey bounced excitedly in her chair - she loved presents almost as much as I did, even when they weren't for her. Mother placed a gentle hand on her shoulder to still her movement, though her own eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"From your grandmother and me," Grandfather said warmly, nodding to a servant who brought forward a long, wrapped bundle.

My eyes widened as the wrapping fell away. Even seated at the high table, I could see it clearly - a sword, not a full-sized one, but a specially crafted practice blade, perfectly sized for a five-year-old prince. The pommel was crafted in the shape of a dragon's head, with tiny rubies for eyes.

"Every prince should learn the art of the sword," Grandfather said, his voice carrying both pride and affection. "Though your mother insists you wait another year before starting proper training." From the corner of my eye, I saw Mother's lips twitch slightly at this.

"Thank you, Grandfather, Grandmother. I promise that I will become a knight worthy of songs." I said sincerely, carefully accepting the practice blade across the table. I glanced toward the lower tables, catching Steffon's wide-eyed look of envy from his place with his family.

"Our turn!" Uncle Duncan's cheerful voice rang out as he and Aunt Jenny approached the high table, little Aemon toddling beside them clutching a package nearly as big as himself. They made their way up the dais steps, Aunt Jenny helping Aemon manage the large parcel.

"Found it at Summerhall," Jenny explained as I unwrapped an old tome bound in red leather, Aemon proudly helping to tear away the paper. "It's a collection of stories about dragons and the first Targaryens. Some of them aren't even in the Citadel's records."

The book was beautiful, illustrated with hand-painted dragons in flight. "Thank you," I breathed, already eager to explore its pages. Rey leaned over to peek at the illustrations, her eyes wide with wonder.

"From Prince Daeron," a servant announced, as two others carefully carried forward a covered object. They placed it near my chair and pulled away the cloth to reveal a finely crafted writing desk, sized perfectly for a child. It was made of dark wood with dragons carved along its edges, and when one of the servants opened it, I could see clever compartments for ink, quills, and papers.

"For my studious nephew," Uncle Daeron called from his seat further down the high table, his eyes warm. "Maester Walys mentions how much you enjoy your lessons."

"Thank you, Uncle," I replied, genuinely delighted by the thoughtfulness of the gift. I could already imagine spending hours at the desk reading my new books.

My parents' gift came next - a beautifully carved wooden chest with dragons soaring across its lid. Inside, nestled in red velvet, lay a collection of small treasures: a silver pendant shaped like Balerion the Black Dread, a set of leather-bound journals with my name embossed in gold, and a ring bearing our house sigil that seemed to catch every flicker of candlelight.

"This pendant," Father said softly, his voice warm with memory, "was given to me by your grandfather when I was just a boy. I was about your age, feeling rather nervous about all my duties as a prince." He picked up the silver dragon, letting it catch the light. "Your grandfather told me that even the smallest dragon can grow to touch the sky. It helped me be braver." His violet eyes met mine. "I thought perhaps you might like to have it now."

Something in his voice made my throat tight. Without caring about ceremony or proper behavior, I threw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you, Father," I whispered. I felt his arms wrap around me, and for a moment, the great hall and all its watching eyes faded away.

"You're welcome, my boy," he murmured, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Mother helped me fasten the pendant around my neck, her fingers gentle and warm against my skin. Her violet eyes shone with pride as she adjusted it to lay perfectly. "There," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "Just perfect."

"And now," Aunt Rhaelle's voice rang out warmly, "your uncle and I have something rather special for you, though you'll have to wait until tomorrow to see the main part."

"The main part?" I asked, curiosity piqued. Rey perked up beside me, her earlier sleepiness forgotten at the prospect of more surprises.

Uncle Ormund's deep laugh carried down the high table. "A fine black pony, waiting in the stables. Strong-legged and sure-footed, bred from our best Stormlands stock."

"A pony?" Rey gasped, practically bouncing in her seat. "Aeys got a pony?"

"But that's not all," Aunt Rhaelle added with a conspiratorial smile. She nodded to a servant who brought forward a long wooden case, beautifully carved with dragons in flight through storm clouds. "Every rider needs proper equipment."

Inside the case, nestled in dark velvet, lay a child-sized riding outfit - boots of supple leather, a deep black cloak lined with gold silk, and riding gloves that looked butter-soft. But what caught my eye was the hunting horn made of polished storm-oak, banded with red gold and etched with three dragons in flight.

"We had it made specially," Uncle Ormund explained proudly. "The craftsman worked with the same storm oak we use for our horns in the Stormlands but decorated it with dragons rather than stags. A blend of both our houses, you might say."

"It's beautiful," I breathed, carefully lifting the horn from its velvet bed. The red gold bands caught the candlelight, making the etched dragons seem to dance.

"The cloak is special too," Aunt Rhaelle added. "Made from storm-wool - the sheep that grow it live high in the mountains of our lands. The shepherds say they're descended from the first flocks the Storm Kings kept. It will keep you warm and dry no matter the weather."

"Try it on!" Rey insisted, reaching for the cloak with eager hands.

Mother helped me fasten it around my shoulders, and I could immediately feel the difference from my other cloaks. The fabric was incredibly light yet somehow substantial, and when I moved, it flowed like water.

"Perfect," Aunt Rhaelle declared, looking pleased. "Though you'll have to wait until tomorrow to try out the pony himself. We thought it best not to bring him into the great hall," she added with a wink that made Rey giggle.

"Can I come see too?" Rey pleaded, tugging at Aunt Rhaelle's sleeve. "Please, please?"

"First thing tomorrow," Aunt Rhaelle promised, smoothing Rey's silver-gold curls. "Though you'll have to wait a few years before you get one of your own, little dragon."

"But I can watch Aeys ride?" Rey pressed, her violet eyes wide and hopeful.

"Of course," Uncle Ormund assured her. "Every rider needs an audience for their first time in the saddle."

The other lords began presenting their gifts then, each trying to outdo the others in showing their respect for the crown prince. Lord Tytos practically bounded up to the high table, his enthusiasm making the cups rattle as he placed his gift - a solid gold lion cub - before me.

"Finest goldwork in all the Westerlands!" he declared loudly enough to make several people wince. "Every detail perfect, down to the smallest whisker! No expense spared for our crown prince, no indeed! Why, the craftsman spent three months just on the eyes..."

I caught Tywin's expression from his place at the Lannister table - that carefully blank look I was coming to recognize as deep embarrassment. His green-flecked golden eyes met mine for just a moment, and I could read the silent apology in them.

Lady Jeyne, bless her, managed to smoothly interrupt her husband's booming monologue. She approached with quiet grace, presenting a set of beautifully detailed maps of the Seven Kingdoms. "For your studies, my prince," she said simply, her gentle dignity a sharp contrast to her husband's exuberance. The maps were exquisite, showing details I'd never seen in other versions.

I watched Tywin's expression soften with obvious pride in his mother as she returned to their table. It was a subtle change - just a slight easing around his eyes - but I was learning to read these small shifts in my friend's carefully controlled face.

Finally, when the formal gift-giving was done, Rhaella tugged at my sleeve. "My turn!" she declared, holding out a somewhat crushed paper package.

Inside was a drawing she'd clearly done herself - wobbly figures meant to be our family, with me in the center holding what appeared to be either a sword or a very straight tree. "That you," she explained proudly. "Fighting bad men to protect us!"

"It's perfect," I told her sincerely, earning a beaming smile. And I knew that one that the sword of the drawing would be Blackfyre.

As the evening wore on, the excitement of the day began to catch up with us. Rhaella had curled up against my arm, her silver-gold curls falling across her face as she fought to keep her eyes open. Even Steffon's boundless energy was finally flagging, his usual bounce reduced to sleepy swaying in his chair.

"When can we see the dragon skulls?" he mumbled, struggling to stifle a yawn.

"Tomorrow," Tywin suggested, his own careful composure softened by exhaustion. "After we've all had proper rest."

Mother exchanged knowing looks with Lady Jeyne and Aunt Rhaelle. "I think it's time these little dragons found their beds," she said gently, moving to gather Rhaella into her arms.

"But we haven't finished planning our adventure," Steffon protested weakly, even as he leaned against his mother's skirts.

"The dragon skulls have waited centuries," Lady Jeyne said, smoothing Tywin's slightly rumpled doublet. "They'll still be there tomorrow."

"Promise we'll see each other first thing?" Steffon asked, looking between Tywin and me with drowsy intensity.

"First thing," I agreed, hiding my own yawn behind my hand. "After breakfast."

"And we'll explore properly," Tywin added, his usual formality slipping just enough to show his own excitement about our planned adventure. "All the lowest levels of the keep."

Mother helped me gather my gifts, while Lady Jeyne kept a steadying hand on Tywin's shoulder. The three of us lingered as long as we could, exchanging sleepy smiles and half-formed plans for tomorrow's explorations.

"Good night," I said softly as our mothers began leading us in different directions. "Sweet dreams of dragon skulls."

"And secret passages," Steffon added with a final sleepy grin.

"And proper adventures," Tywin finished, a rare, genuine smile crossing his tired face.

As Mother guided me and a sleeping Rhaella toward our chambers, I found myself already dreaming of tomorrow's possibilities. Whatever adventures awaited us in the depths of the Red Keep, I knew they would be better for having these two beside me.

"Aeys?" Rhaella mumbled against Mother's shoulder as we walked. "Can I come see dragons too?"

"Tomorrow, sweetling," Mother soothed, pressing a kiss to her silver-gold curls. "Everyone needs rest after such an exciting day."

---

The morning after my nameday feast found me carefully unwrapping my new training sword in the dim light of dawn. The dragon-headed pommel caught the first rays of sunlight, its ruby eyes seeming to wink at me. I'd slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, though Rey had still stirred.

"Aeys?" she'd mumbled sleepily. "Where going?"

"To see dragons," I whispered back. "Want to come?"

That had her wide awake instantly, violet eyes sparkling as she scrambled out of bed. I helped her dress quickly before she could wake Mother with her excitement.

We found Tywin and Steffon already waiting by the throne room doors, Steffon practically vibrating with anticipation while Tywin maintained his usual composed expression. Though I noticed how his eyes lit up at the sight of my training sword.

"The guards change soon," Tywin whispered, his natural strategic mind already at work. "That's our chance."

"Dragon time?" Rey asked hopefully, clutching her wooden toy dragon.

"Shh," Steffon hushed her, though he was grinning. "We're being sneaky!"

The moment the guards began their shift change, we slipped through the heavy doors into the throne room. The morning sun streamed through the high windows, catching the thousand blades of the Iron Throne and making them gleam like fresh ice. Rey gasped at the sight, her small hand tightening in mine.

"It's bigger than Father said," Steffon breathed, craning his neck to look up at the twisted mountain of swords.

"Aegon the Conqueror had it made from the swords of his defeated enemies," Tywin recited quietly, his eyes tracking the path of blades up to the seat itself. "It took Balerion's flame to melt them together."

"And there he is!" I pointed to the massive skull that dominated one side of the throne room. Balerion's skull was larger than a carriage, his teeth longer than swords. Rey let out a delighted squeal at the sight, immediately tugging me toward it.

"Look, look!" She held up her wooden dragon to compare. "Like mine but bigger!"

"Much bigger," Tywin agreed, reaching out to touch one of Balerion's massive teeth with uncharacteristic wonder. "The Black Dread himself."

"Could you imagine riding him?" Steffon asked, eyes wide as he walked beneath the skull's enormous jaw. "You could conquer whole kingdoms!"

"That's what Aegon did," Tywin reminded him, though he was clearly just as impressed. "Him and his sisters."

Rey had moved on to the next skull, marginally smaller but no less impressive. "This one?" she asked, pointing up at it.

"Vhagar," I told her, remembering my lessons. "Queen Visenya's mount. Almost as big as Balerion by the end."

We moved among the skulls, each one telling its own story. Tywin knew most of them, sharing facts he'd learned from his studies. Even Steffon, usually more interested in action than history, listened intently as we explored.

"The Iron Throne looks different from down here," Steffon observed, lying on his back to stare up at the towering construct. "Like it might eat you."

"That's the point," Tywin said seriously. "A king should never sit easy." And even at such a young age tywin already understood what Aegon I intented the throne to represent instead of seeing it as the ultimate prize in the endless game of thrones like practically all other people in the kingdom and plenty of my own ancestors did. Thank God that my grandfather and father understood it well and taught me that the throne is first and foremost my duty

A noise from outside the doors had us all freezing. "The guards!" I whispered. "Quick, behind Balerion!"

We ducked behind the massive skull just as the doors creaked open. Through the gaps between teeth, we could see two guards making their morning inspection. Rey pressed her face against my shoulder to muffle her giggles.

Once the guards had passed, Rey tugged at my sleeve. "Can I go find Genna now? She said she'd show me her new dolls."

"I'll take her," Tywin offered, his usual stern expression softening slightly when he looked at his sister's new friend. "Genna's probably in the garden with Mother by now."

"Be good," I told Rey, watching as she skipped off with Tywin. He returned moments later, his composed mask back in place.

"Now can we see the sword?" Steffon whispered eagerly as soon as Tywin rejoined us.

"Not here," I replied, glancing around the throne room. "Let's go to the practice yard."

The yard behind the armory was empty when we arrived, morning dew still clinging to the packed dirt. Hidden from view by the tall stone walls, I finally pulled out the training sword from beneath my cloak. The dragon-headed pommel caught the early sunlight, its ruby eyes seeming to glow.

Steffon's eyes went wide with excitement while Tywin moved closer, studying the blade with barely concealed interest. "The balance looks perfect," he observed, ever analytical even in his enthusiasm.

"Want to see what it can do?" I asked, giving the sword an experimental swing. The weight felt natural in my hand, even if all my knowledge came from movies in another life.

"Show us!" Steffon bounced on his toes. "Something amazing!"

I took a deep breath, mind racing through the various sword scenes I could remember. The training montages from The Last Samurai seemed easiest to mimic - less acrobatic than ninja moves, more grounded. I shifted my weight, trying to copy the stance I remembered Tom Cruise learning: body turned sideways, sword held lower than a knight would.

My movements were far from graceful, a child's clumsy imitation of what I'd seen on screen. The practice sword wavered as I attempted a quick, horizontal cut - not the overhead chops I'd seen the masters-at-arms demonstrate, but the faster strikes I remembered from the movies.

"That's odd," Tywin observed, his green-flecked eyes tracking my wobbly movements. "Why hold the blade like that?"

"It's... different from what knights do," I managed, attempting another move. I tried to copy the fluid transitions I'd seen in Shogun, but my arms weren't strong enough to keep the blade steady. The result was more jerky than smooth, though still distinctly foreign compared to Westerosi techniques.

"It looks like dancing!" Steffon exclaimed enthusiastically, though he was being kind. My attempts at recreating samurai movements probably looked more like stumbling than dancing.

I attempted another sequence I remembered - a combination of cuts that had looked so effortless on screen but proved far more challenging in reality. The blade felt heavier with each swing, my small arms already tiring.

"Your feet keep moving," Tywin noted thoughtfully. "Not like how the knights fight at all."

"Me next!" Steffon declared eagerly. "I want to try that spinning thing!"

"Careful," Tywin cautioned, though his eyes never left my amateur display. "You can barely control it."

I was in the middle of attempting to recreate a particularly memorable scene from The Last Samurai - though what had looked amazing on screen was proving much harder with a real sword - when a deep voice nearly made me drop the blade:

"That's an interesting style you've got there, little prince."

We spun around to find Ser Duncan the Tall watching us from the yard entrance. Though I'd seen him many times standing guard outside doors or following my grandfather through the castle, this was the first time I'd been so close to him. He stood nearly seven feet tall, his white Kingsguard armor gleaming in the morning sun. His expression was more curious than stern as he watched my clumsy attempts at copying movie swordplay.

What struck me most was how different he seemed up close - not the imposing silent guardian I was used to seeing, but a man with laugh lines around his eyes and an almost gentle presence despite his enormous size. He was trying to hide a smile, I realized, not angry at finding us practicing without permission, but genuinely amused.

"Ser Duncan," I managed, trying not to look too guilty. Usually, I only saw him standing silently behind my grandfather during visits or meals. Speaking to him directly felt strange. "We were just..."

"Practicing some very unusual sword moves," he finished, crossing the yard with surprisingly light steps for such a big man. His voice was warmer than I'd expected, having rarely heard him speak except to answer my grandfather's questions. "Never seen anything quite like it, though I've traveled all over the Seven Kingdoms."

I noticed how he positioned himself to keep the morning sun out of our eyes - a thoughtful gesture I wouldn't have expected from the usually stoic knight. It made me wonder how much I'd missed by only seeing him in his formal role.

"Is Grandfather going to be angry?" I asked hesitantly. In all my time in the Red Keep, I'd never seen Ser Duncan without my grandfather nearby. The legendary knight was like my grandfather's shadow.

"Your grandfather?" Duncan's eyes crinkled with genuine warmth, showing a side of him I'd never glimpsed during his formal duties. "The same prince who saved my life at Ashford Tourney when Aerion was about to have me executed? Mind you, they might have done it right there if your grandfather hadn't shouted for them to take me to Prince Maekar instead."

That got my attention. I'd never heard stories about my grandfather's childhood before, especially not from Ser Duncan. "What happened?"

"Oh," Duncan chuckled, and it was strange hearing such a casual sound from someone I'd only ever seen standing guard with stern dignity. "I'd struck Prince Aerion for hurting a puppet girl - he was breaking her fingers, you see. They seized me right there, and Aerion was calling for my head. Then your grandfather came running out, still pretending to be my squire, demanding they bring me to his father, Prince Maekar, instead of killing me outright."

Steffon's eyes were wide as saucers. "He didn't tell them he was a prince?"

"Not at first, no. He was clever about it - knew his father would at least give me a proper trial. When we got there, that's when he revealed who he really was. Standing there bold as brass, this skinny lad with a shaved head, announcing himself as Prince Aegon Targaryen, fourth son of Prince Maekar. Demanded I be given a trial by combat instead of immediate execution."

"But wouldn't Prince Maekar have been angry with him?" Tywin asked, his usual composure forgotten in his fascination.

"Furious," Duncan confirmed. "But your grandfather stood his ground. It ended up being a trial of seven - oldest form of trial by combat there is. He even helped me find champions, convinced his uncle Prince Baelor to stand for my cause. All because he believed in justice, even when it meant defying his own family. Though his sword work back then was worse than yours, mind. Took years of practice to make a decent swordsman out of him."

"You taught him everything he knows about fighting," I said, then added quickly, "Or that's what the stories say." I'd heard servants whisper about their legendary friendship, but I'd only ever seen its formal surface.

Something flickered in Duncan's eyes - memory, perhaps, of those long-ago days when he was just a hedge knight and my grandfather was just a boy called Egg. It was odd seeing such an unguarded expression on his usually stoic face.

"Stories say a lot of things, little prince," he replied thoughtfully. "But yes, I did help teach your grandfather. Though he taught me just as much in return."

An idea struck me. "Could you teach me?" I asked eagerly, surprising myself with my boldness. "Please? I know Mother said to wait a year, but you're the best swordsman in the Kingsguard! You could make sure I don't hurt myself."

"And us too!" Steffon added hopefully. Tywin didn't say anything, but his eyes were bright with interest.

Duncan studied us for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. It was the longest interaction I'd ever had with him, and I found myself hoping this wouldn't be the last. "Your mother had good reasons for wanting you to wait," he said slowly. Then a slight smile crossed his face - so different from his usual stern guardian expression. "But then again, some lessons are better learned early. Especially with proper guidance."

He moved forward, gently adjusting my grip on the practice sword. It was strange being so close to someone I'd only ever seen from a respectful distance. "First thing - you're holding it like you expect it to be heavier. A sword should feel like part of your arm, not a weight you're fighting against."

I corrected my grip, noticing how it immediately felt more natural. "Like this?"

"Better," he nodded. "Now, that spinning move you were attempting - flashy, but it leaves you open. Here's something more practical..." He demonstrated a simple defensive stance, and I realized I was seeing a whole new side of the legendary knight who had always been just a silent, towering presence in my grandfather's shadow.

For the next hour, Ser Duncan showed us basic stances and simple movements. He had a way of teaching that made everything seem clear and natural, breaking down complex actions into easy-to-understand steps. Even Tywin, usually so reserved, found himself fully engaged in the impromptu lesson.

"Your grandfather started much the same way," Duncan told us as we practiced footwork. "Though he was even smaller than you at first, Prince Aerys. Used to compensate by being quick as a cat."

"Is that why you're always with him?" I asked innocently, though I knew the answer. "Because you trained together?"

Duncan's face softened with genuine affection. "That's part of it. Your grandfather... he sees the world differently than most highborn lords. Always has. Teaching him the sword was the least of what we learned from each other."

He was about to say more when a familiar voice called from the yard entrance: "So this is where you disappeared to, Ser Duncan!"

My grandfather stood there, crown absent, looking more like the Egg from the stories than the King of the Seven Kingdoms. His eyes took in the scene - three slightly sweaty boys with a practice sword, his Lord Commander seemingly in the middle of a lesson - and a broad grin spread across his face.

"Starting a bit early, aren't we?" he asked, but there was no rebuke in his tone.

"They remind me of another young boy who couldn't wait to learn the sword," Duncan replied with a meaningful look that made my grandfather laugh.

"Well then," Grandfather said, walking over to join us, "perhaps I should watch. Make sure you're not teaching them any bad habits, old friend."

I watched them together - the hedge knight who became Lord Commander and the prince who became king, still as close as brothers after all these years. It was one thing to read about their friendship in stories but seeing it in person made it feel real in a way books never could.

"Again," Duncan instructed, adjusting Steffon's stance while my grandfather offered his own suggestions. "Remember, a shield is just as important as a sword. Tywin, you're next - show me that blocking position again."

As the lesson continued, now with both Ser Duncan and my grandfather teaching, I found myself grinning despite my tired arms. This wasn't exactly how I'd planned to spend the morning, but somehow it was better than sneaking around looking at dragon skulls.

"Your mother is still going to hear about this," Grandfather warned me later, though his eyes were twinkling. "But perhaps we can convince her that supervised lessons might be safer than letting you figure it out on your own."

"Like you did?" Duncan asked innocently, making my grandfather cuff him on the arm with a laugh.

"Some things," Grandfather told us with a wink, "are worth getting in a little trouble for."

---

Author's Note:

Hey everyone,

First, I want to share some exciting news - I've officially graduated with my Bachelor of Science. It's been quite a journey, and your support throughout this process has meant the world to me. I'm currently navigating the job search with my new degree, which is both exciting and a bit nerve-wracking, but I'm looking forward to what the future holds.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. Whether you celebrated Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or simply enjoyed the winter season, I hope these past weeks brought you joy and peace. Writing this chapter so close to Christmas was definitely a challenge, but I wanted to make sure I could share this story with you all before the year's end.

This chapter was particularly meaningful to write because it explores something I believe is fundamental to the story - the genuine desire for friendship. While our SI Aerys knows the historical significance of both Tywin and Steffon, what I really wanted to convey was his authentic wish to connect with them as people, not just as future political allies. The kitchen adventure, the shared excitement over dragon skulls, and their first sword lesson with Ser Duncan weren't planned political maneuvers - they were real moments of childhood friendship forming.

I wanted to show how these bonds could develop naturally, even with someone like young Tywin who historically struggled to form close relationships. Sometimes the simplest things - stolen lemon cakes, shared secrets, and childhood adventures - can lay the foundation for lifelong friendships, regardless of what the future might hold.

As always, I have to give a huge thank you to .4545 for his continued support and patience in editing this chapter. His insights have been absolutely crucial in bringing these scenes to life.

As we head into the New Year, I want you all to know how grateful I am for this community. Here's to many more adventures in 2025.

Warmest regards,

Mtle232

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.