Duncan Targaryen's POV – The Price of Love, The Weight of Fatherhood
Summerhall stood in serene silence, the only sound the soft crackle of the hearth. The evening breeze, carrying the scent of wildflowers, drifted through the open balcony doors—but Duncan Targaryen barely noticed. His world had narrowed to the tiny bundle in his arms.
His firstborn son.
Named after his uncle and his idol- The Dragonknight.
Aemon Targaryen.
The child's silver hair gleamed under the dim candlelight, softer than moonlight yet richer than the pale gold of House Targaryen. His violet eyes, deep as twilight, stared up at him—not with the unfocused confusion of a newborn, but with something more.
Duncan had seen many things in his thirty-seven years. He had fought battles, stood beside kings, and had once been heir to the Iron Throne itself.
And yet, nothing had prepared him for this.
For the sheer depth of love that filled his chest as he held his son for the first time.
His blood. His legacy. His greatest treasure.
A soft sigh left him as he cradled the babe closer, an instinctive motion—a silent vow of protection.
"Do you regret it?"
Jenny's voice was soft, yet the question hung between them like a heavy sword.
Duncan turned to her, seeing the flickering firelight reflected in her deep blue eyes.
"Giving up the throne for me?" Jenny clarified. "For us?"
Duncan hesitated. Not because he doubted his choice—but because he remembered the moment he made it.
His father's voice, pleading with him to reconsider. The weight of duty pressed against his shoulders like dragon-forged steel. He had been the Crown Prince, the heir to House Targaryen's legacy.
And yet… here he stood, in a simple castle, far from the Iron Throne.
But in his arms was his son. And beside him, the woman he loved.
"No," Duncan said firmly, his voice leaving no room for regret. His free hand reached out to cup Jenny's cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. "I would do it all again."
Jenny smiled, though there was a sadness in her eyes.
"The court will never accept him," she murmured, glancing at their son. "To them, he is neither truly royal nor truly common. He belongs to both worlds and yet… to neither."
Duncan sighed, his grip on Aemon tightening.
"He is my son," he said, his voice low but resolute. "Let the court whisper. Let the lords turn their noses. It changes nothing." He turned back to Jenny, meeting her gaze. "I will not let the world decide his worth."
Jenny's lips trembled slightly, and then she leaned forward, resting her forehead against Duncan's.
They had fought for their love.
They had been exiled for it.
And now, this child was the proof that it had all been worth it.
Aemon stirred in Duncan's arms, making a small, curious sound, his tiny fingers gripping the edge of his father's sleeve.
Duncan let out a soft chuckle. "Strong grip, little one. You will be a warrior yet."
Jenny laughed lightly, the sound like wind chimes in a summer breeze.
"Or perhaps a bard," she teased. "I would rather him sing songs than shed blood."
Duncan smirked. "And yet, fate has made him a Targaryen."
Jenny sighed, gently running her fingers through Aemon's silver hair. "And Targaryens rarely get to choose their fates."
Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken fears.
Would their son be safe in this world?
Would he know love, as they had?
Or would he be swallowed by the same fire that had consumed so many of their kin?
Duncan pressed another kiss to Aemon's forehead.
"No matter what comes, I swear to you, my son—I will protect you."
Jenny's POV – A Mother's Love, A Mother's Fear
Jenny of Oldstones had never known what it meant to be a queen.
She had been called many things—a witch, a commoner, a seductress who had bewitched the Prince of Dragonstone—but never a queen.
And she had never cared for it.
All she had ever wanted was him.
Duncan.
And now, this.
Her son.
Jenny stared at the tiny boy resting in Duncan's arms, her heart aching with a love so fierce, so absolute, that it frightened her.
Aemon was beautiful, more so than any child she had ever seen.
His silver hair, soft as silk, fell against his delicate skin, and his violet eyes—deep and knowing—stared at her as if he could already see the world for what it was.
She reached out, her fingers trembling as she brushed them against his small cheek.
He did not cry.
He simply watched her.
Jenny swallowed, her breath unsteady.
"He does not cry," she murmured.
Duncan chuckled. "Perhaps he has nothing to cry for."
Jenny bit her lip.
"Not yet."
"But one day, he will."
"One day, the world will break his heart, as it broke ours."
And she could only pray that when that day came, he would be strong enough to survive it.
Aemon's POV – Love, Fate, and the Unstoppable Fire
For the first time in two lifetimes, I knew what love felt like.
Not fleeting kindness, not temporary warmth, but something deeper—something absolute.
I lay in my mother's arms, feeling her warmth seep into my small body. The way she held me—delicate yet fierce, like I was the most precious thing in her world—was something I had never known before.
I was loved.
Truly, deeply, unconditionally loved.
In my past life, I had no mother to hold me, no father to look down at me with pride. I had been alone.
Orphaned.
"But here… here I had them."
"Duncan Targaryen. My father."
"Jenny of Oldstones. My mother."
"I have a family now."
My father was a man who had given up a throne for love. A prince who had walked away from power, from destiny, just to be with the woman he cherished. He had chosen love over duty—a choice so few in this world could afford to make.
And my mother…
She was beautiful.
Not in the way of highborn queens, but in a way that felt timeless, like the old songs and whispered stories of magic. Her presence was soothing, her voice a melody even in silence. When she held me, I felt like the world outside these walls did not exist.
"This is the love I never had."
"This is the love I always wanted."
I should have been happy.
I wanted to be happy.
But I couldn't.
Because as I listened to their voices, as I took in my surroundings, realization hit me like a sword to the chest.
"Summerhall."
"I was born in Summerhall."
And suddenly, the warmth in my chest turned to ice.
"No, no, no…"
My mind raced. I clawed at my fragmented memories, trying to recall everything—every bit of knowledge, every moment from my past life that could help me stop what was coming.
"King Aegon V… my grandfather… he will try to bring back the dragons."
"He will fail."
"Summerhall will BURN."
"And I will lose everything."
"My parents. My grandparents. My family."
I wanted to scream. To warn them. To tell them that fire was coming and that we had to leave—now.
But I couldn't.
I was just a newborn. Weak. Helpless. Trapped in this small, fragile body with no power, no voice, no way to change what was fated to come.
"Damn it! Why? WHY?!"
I had been given this second life, this chance to live with love and warmth… only to have it ripped away before I could even take my first steps.
"When? When does it happen?"
"Tomorrow? A week from now? A month?"
I didn't know.
And that terrified me more than anything.
"I can't stop it."
"I can't change it."
"I am going to watch them die."
"And I can do NOTHING."
A deep, suffocating helplessness wrapped around me, squeezing my tiny chest like iron chains. My breathing quickened, panic setting in. My small hands clenched into fists, trembling against my mother's skin.
And then, the fire came back.
Not in reality—but in my mind. Flames. Heat. The scent of burning flesh. The sound of screaming.
Not here.
Not yet.
"My past life…"
"The fire that took my life before."
I remembered it all now.
"I died in fire."
"I burned."
I could almost feel it again.
The heat crawled over my skin.
The suffocating smoke fills my lungs.
The agony of flames consuming me—devouring my flesh as my body turned to nothing but charred bones and ashes.
"No."
"No, please."
"Not again."
I gasped for air, but it felt like my lungs were collapsing. My body trembled violently, my small frame racked with an invisible terror that no one else could understand.
"I don't want to die again."
"I just found them."
"I JUST GOT TO HAVE A FAMILY!"
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if somehow, closing them would make the nightmare disappear.
But I was still here.
Still trapped in a fate I could not escape.
"I can't change the past. I can't stop what's coming."
"I can't do anything."
"I'm powerless."
And that broke me in a way no fire ever could.
Jenny's POV – A Mother's Lullaby
Jenny felt Aemon shaking in her arms.
His small hands clenched his tiny body tense. His breathing—was short and frantic.
"He's distressed."
Her heart ached. What could he possibly be afraid of?
He was just a newborn.
Yet, as she looked down at him, his tiny face scrunched up, his body rigid with unspoken fear…
Jenny felt something strange in her heart.
"My boy is different."
"There is something about him I cannot understand."
He did not cry. He did not wail.
But the look on his tiny face…
It was as if he were suffering in silence.
"What could trouble you so, my sweet boy?"
She gently rocked him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "Shhh, my sweet boy," she whispered. "You are safe."
But he wasn't calming.
Jenny's heart clenched. She had no idea what troubled him—what a newborn could fear.
She pressed another kiss to his forehead, and then, without thinking, she began to sing.
"Hen rhogar, hen sīmon, ao gīmī, ñuha tresy…" (From fire, from sorrow, you are mine, my son…)
"Hen ūndekon, rhaen ivestragī, zȳhon kostōr…" (From darkness, let dreams take you, safe in my arms…)
"Hen zȳhon ānogar, ao sagon rȳbāzmar, ūndekon vēzos…" (From your blood, you will be strong, under the sun…)
"Hen iemnȳ, hen jorrāelagon, ao ūndekon zȳhon." (From love and light, you will find your way…)
"Kesīr gīmī, aōha hāedar, issa jemēla…" (Here you are, my heart, my dream…)
Her voice was soft and melodic, a lullaby of an old tongue that only the blood of Valyria still carried.
And finally, Aemon slept.
His small body relaxed, his little hands unclenching.
"He is safe."
"For now."
But for how long?
Jenny held him close, humming the song softly as the firelight flickered across the walls.
"The fire will come."
"And when it does… will I be able to protect him?"
For now, she could only hope.
For now, she could only sing.