Jon Snow/Aemon Targaryen (Year 92 A.C.)
Kingslandig - Lyanna's Starks Chambers
Three weeks after the birth of Aemon Targaryen, formally known as Jon Snow.
The first three weeks had been a blessing and a curse for him. He had a loving family and a future to plant to make sure the one that happened wouldn't happen again. But he was still a babe, not able to do anything, but sleep, eat, pope, and piss himself, and dreams of his last death haunted him in sleep, making him wake up with a squeal of babe.
The moments were lessened by the comfort of his mother's arms. Lyanna Stark's countenance made him wonder if he resembled this woman. Yet, in this iteration, she appeared older than the woman who had given birth to him in his previous life. In a vision the gods granted him a few nights after his rebirth, was she like the mother he never truly knew?
After three weeks, his mother spoke to him, uttering words that left him utterly shocked. "Oh, my little Aemon, my blessed child. Gifted by the old gods. I never thought I'd hold you again." Confusion overwhelmed him. 'What did she mean by 'again'? After all, she had just given birth to him.' The weight of his thoughts propelled him to cry out, prompting her to embrace him more tightly, a single tear streaming down her cheek. In seeing her cry, his crying ceased. He wanted to tell her that he was okay. Tell her about the weight she carried and the knowledge of the past that she wasn't alone in it, and tell her of the love he felt for her. But he couldn't do it now; his infancy was making him unable to do it.
"My precious Aemon, I would sacrifice everything for you," Lyanna professed, her eyes glistening with tears. "Lya, everything alright?" Baelon Targaryen's voice echoed, breaking the moment of him and his mother.
"Yes, just overwhelmed with our baby," she responded, a tearful smile gracing her face. What he observed in her eyes resonated as genuine happiness and love. 'Was this the same sentiment Robb, Arya, Rickon, Sansa, and Bran felt when their mother showered them with affection?' The thought of Bran was bittersweet, yet he held onto the memory of the sweet, adventurous boy he once was. Not the monster who had taken over his body.
"Well, Lya, I echo the same sentiment. Little Aemon is truly remarkable," Baelon chimed in, gently taking him from his mother's arms. Baelon looked him in the eyes with his purple eyes. He found love in them, reminiscent of the care Eddard Stark had shown him when circumstances allowed.
"Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like had you not attended the tourney?" Baelon inquired, his gaze fixed on Lyanna.
"I suppose I'd have returned to the North, perhaps marrying a northern noble as Stark customs dictate. It would've been the usual fate. Maybe I would've found contentment there," his mother contemplated.
"Yes, I, too, would have followed the path of following my brother as hand, and follow him, and would have done so gladly if hadn't been slain, but now I'm the crown prince and will eventually become King. The other responsibilities include caring for my sons, Viserys and Daemon, and siblings. Lya, I never imagined I'd find love again after Alyssa. However, the moment I saw you enter the feast with your father, it took my breath away," Baelon admitted. 'He could share the sentiment, he remembered his feelings upon first encountering Daenerys. She had captivated him from the start, and he had grown to love her for her actions. Yet, everything had unraveled the moment he journeyed to Winterfell, a memory that still left a bitter taste.' He thought of the now bitter memory of his past life.
It was in stark contrast to how his mother looked at Baelon. The affection on both their faces was genuine, and he was happy his mother had found happiness after Rhaegar. Perhaps he could find the same in time. It also offered a glimmer of hope, a possibility of finding love anew and building a family—a family he dreamed of, with children named in memory of those he had lost.' 'he thought, and an involuntary smile formed, and soon a giggle of happiness. It was strange to be a babe and think like an adult, yet you are subject to the same impulse as a babe.
"Oh, my dear Aemon, your laughter is a beautiful sight," Lyanna remarked with a giggle, her eyes sparkling with both delight and tears. "Indeed, just as beautiful as his mother," Baelon added, sealing the sentiment with a kiss. He felt a bit awkward as he watched his parents kiss, but it was a small price to pay of seeing his mother in true happiness. With contentment settling in his infant body, he yawned, surrendering to sleep's embrace.
A day later
In these three weeks, he discovered his aversion towards his brother Daemon. He was reminded of this yet again as Deamon hung over his grip. Even at twelve namedays, Daemon Targaryen had streaks of the Rogue princess in him. "Ah, my half-breed brother. Your mother seduced my father. Even your eyes are wrong," Daemon had taunted, peering into his eyes from above his crib.
His discomfort was interrupted by his oldest brother, Viserys. He was fond of Viserys despite the historical accounts that portrayed him less favorably. Regardless of this, Viserys showed kindness toward him, and his efforts in maintaining the realm's peace after Jaehaerys I were commendable. Yet, he had permitted the Targaryen civil war to unfold—the Dance of Dragons—a decision he considered unwise and unnecessary.
"Ah, there you are, brother. I've been searching for you. I wanted to share the good news. Aemma is with child, and you'll soon be an uncle," Viserys declared, warmly embracing Daemon. Then he turned to him, "Yes, you too, little Aemon," he added, playfully tickling his belly. Despite his resistance, he couldn't help but giggle, a childish impulse overwhelming him.
"Enjoying that, Aemon?" Viserys inquired with a smile. Daemon huffed, clearly unimpressed. "That child will only be half of us, brother, never a true dragon."
Viserys countered, "Well, you may have noticed, but Baelrion recently took flight after years. As you and I know, I attempted to bond with him. Yet, it wasn't meant to be. Now I'm content with Goynogar." A genuine smile graced his lips. He was puzzled at the mention of Balerion. 'In his own time, Viserys had boned with Balerion. Who was this Goynogar? No dragon, to his recollection, had that name. He wasn't sure why Balerion had flown again after his return. Balerion had only originally flown again after Viserys mounted him and died in 94 AC.' He thought of his brother's words in puzzlement.
"Are you implying that a 'half-breed' will tame the Black Dread?" mocked Daemon, a hint of disdain in his voice. His thoughts were drawn to his own experience with dragonbonding. 'He had briefly formed a connection with Rhaegal, sensing a bond between them, yet it had been short-lived. He had felt Rhaegal's pain as the dragon succumbed to a scorpion bolt. The Ironborn fanatics had been waiting in hiding on the cliffs of Dragonstone. The wounds on Rhaegal were still not yet healed, unable to withstand a scorpion bolt shot to the chest, tearing through its insides. As normally, a full-grown dragon scale could withstand a scorpion blot.'
"Well, brother, time will reveal the truth. We'll see in six years or more, Daemon. And remember, Aemma is family, just as you are. She's part Arryn, so keep that in mind. Let's never speak of 'half-breeds' again in my present," Viserys asserted with authority, a tone that surprised even him.
"Very well, brother. I apologize for insulting your wife. At least she looks like a true Valyrian," Daemon conceded, smirking as he exited the room.
"Apologies, little dragon. Our brother can be a bit irritable. Nevertheless, I love you very much, a blessing after Uncle Aemon's passing. Even Rhaenys was honored when she heard you were named after her father. You know she also has a baby growing up, and soon we will have a great cousin. "Viserys confided, picking him up and kissing his head. 'Viserys was a good man, if not the best King, but he was a brother he was gradually growing fond of. His words of Rhaenys made him sad, and he remembered his pain when he heard of Eddard Stark's loss. He wondered if this time she might be the Queen. He hoped not, as his father had to die again. He would try and chance as much as he could to protect his loved ones and the world against the darkness to come.' He thought as he smiled at his brother and touched his cheek.
"Soon, hopefully, you won't sleep alone." With a promise of a future sleeping companion, Viserys returned him to his crib. Leaving to sleep one's again.