-Jaehaerys' POV-
After letting the silence linger for a moment, I finally answered him. "Power comes with responsibility and duty. Only those worthy to fulfill them have the right to rule."
Aemon nodded solemnly, unnervingly mature for his years. "So responsibility and duty to the realm come first, even before family? I understand. Thank you for the guidance."
His answer struck a chord deep within me. How could one so young give voice to the conflict that had haunted me for decades? My voice dropped to a whisper.
"And what do you think, Aemon? What matters more—duty to the realm or loyalty to family?"
"If you cannot keep your family happy, what is the use of ruling the realm or fulfilling duties and being the strongest ?" he replied earnestly.
His innocence wrapped profound truths in childlike sincerity. I felt a rare fury—not at him, but at myself. At the weight of the crown. At the legacy of my decisions.
"…It was nice talking to you, Aemon," I said after a pause. "Return to your mother. I'll arrange a singing teacher for you."
-Aemon's POV-
After leaving the King's chamber, I finally exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Ser Ryam was waiting outside and led me back, but I was only half-aware of my surroundings.
When I entered my room, I saw Zalrazar curled up in the corner, his black scales shimmering with soft blue hues. My bond with him was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was time.
Time to begin the true training.
Drawing on fragmented memories of dog training videos and every fantasy dragon story I could recall, I began a Walmart Version Of How to Train your Dragon. Zalrazar was small but intelligent. I started with basic commands: come, stay, and fetch. Using chunks of raw meat, I rewarded him for obeying. He quickly learned to respond to verbal cues and body language.
Then came agility—flying in controlled bursts, dodging thrown objects, even carrying small weights. By the end of three moons, Zalrazar could stay airborne for nearly an hour and follow complex commands.
Three Moons Later – Red Keep
Cries echoed through the halls.
My mother was in labor. If my calculations were correct—and the butterfly effect hadn't unraveled time itself—then this was the day Rhaenyra would be born.
I sat with my father, watching his face twist with helplessness at every pained scream from behind the doors. He held my hand tightly.
After what felt like forever, the screams ceased. Then a single cry—clear, high-pitched, alive.
We were ushered in moments later. My mother, pale and glowing with sweat, looked exhausted but overjoyed. She motioned for me.
"Look, Aemon… meet your sister," she whispered.
I peered into her arms at a red-faced infant, wrapped in fine silk.
"What's her name?" I asked softly.
"We had chosen the name Rhaenyra," my mother said. "So Rhaenyra she shall be."
I felt… protective. Knowing what was meant to come, what her fate should have been. But no more. This time, she would have someone by her side. Someone who cared, who watched, who acted.
I swore then and there to change her story.
Around the same time, my uncle Daemon was forced into a political marriage with Rhea Royce—an event that filled him with resentment. Though I was still young, I could see the rage behind his polite smiles.
Meanwhile, I had started lessons with my new singing tutor, Kaevor Myrathi—a bard from Myr with flowing red robes and a sharp tongue. He taught me not just voice, but musical theory, rhythm, and even how to craft lyrics. His eccentric flair amused Zalrazar, who would hum low growls during our sessions.
Kaevor also helped me craft my second invention—my first being a toothbrush and herbal toothpaste, which had surprisingly caught on among the nobility. The second was a guitar fashioned with wood and dragonbone fittings, strung with silk and gut. It was my personal gift to the world of Westeros. I named it ghalare, which meant "song-heart" in High Valyrian.
Dragon Training Update ( of 3 moons)
Zalrazar's progress was astounding. He now flew for three hours straight and could carry small loads—like water barrels or training sacks filled with stones. To prevent sabotage or poisoning, I only fed him live animals that I personally selected. He preferred goats.
I introduced fire training slowly. First, with flammable targets. Using Valyrian phrases like "Dracarys," I conditioned him to exhale flame on command. I also built simple wooden dummies to test accuracy and blast radius.
We trained at dawn when the skies were clear, away from curious eyes.
Two Years Later – Dragonstone, 99 AC
{Note MC age : around 4years }
-Aemon's POV-
My great-grandmother Queen Alysanne was heartbroken.
Princess Gael had disappeared. Rumors spread quietly, but the truth was grim. When she returned after eight moons, it was clear—she was pregnant. She claimed a bard had seduced and abandoned her. The King's fury was so intense, the matter was hushed at once, buried by royal decree.
It left the household in quiet disarray.
To raise spirits, I insisted we travel to Dragonstone to visit Queen Alysanne. I hoped the sight of young Rhaenyra, now beginning to babble and crawl, would lift her mood. Zalrazar came with me, and so did my guitar. Music, I believed, could ease pain in ways words could not.
Dragonstone was silent, brooding. Its towers still watched the seas like dragons made stone.
-Queen Alysanne's POV-
Eight moons. Eight agonizing moons with no word. I had tried to protect Gael after so much loss. But my fear had only driven her away.
Now she was back… changed, heavy with child, and silent about her time away. Her return brought shame and sorrow, not the joy I had once dreamed of.
But Viserys, Aemma, and the children arriving offered warmth.
A servant entered after a knock with labored breath he said " The princess has gone into labor".
I immediately ran as fast as these old bones could allow.