I think I won't be dieing anytime soon

It took me far, FAR longer than I care to admit to reclaim my wits. For days I just stared blankly in front of me as I went through what limited motions I had open to me, from the way the nannies looked at me with worried expressions I would wager they were concerned for me. I could hardly blame them, Targaryen's were pretty murder- obsessive so fear of getting punished should something happen to me was reasonable enough.

The throne room incident I like call it, Because it was the first time I cried. And all my relatives thought that I scared of balerion's skull or worse the monstrous iron Throne.

Though it took time but I'm a Targaryen now and

Slowly but surely I got myself back together. The one bright side of being in a baby? Alot and I mean ALOT of time to think.

It would do me no good to just sit idly by while the world fell apart around me. The Dance would probably happen. The problem with the Dance was that it was an oddity from a historical perspective. In Asoiaf world just as my original world about ninety-nine percent of events are the result of flukes, freak accidents and just plain bad luck. The Dance though happened as a result of at least a dozen different factors pushing heavily towards it. Only a few of those factors had already happened but most of the major ones would already be in play by my tenth year and would be downright life-threatening to stop. Add to that the fact that most of the characters were Greedy, lustfull, unstable, useless or irregularly recklass and you have an inevitably cluster-cluck.

There was no doubt about that, far too many factors may be at work already but I might be able to luck-out and weaken it to hopefully little more than the war of quills the early Dance was. On the other hand this world was not exactly known for making things go according to plan, especially when a plan was overly ambitious. So I orientated myself on a simple and may I say very important goal.

My survival.

I had already died once and I did not intend to test my luck again. So to that end I began to mentally list down a series of obvious criteria to ensure my survival.

Firstly, I needed to get into fighting shape and figure out combat as soon as humanly possible. Aegon would get fat, I struggled all of my first life to stay fit and in Westeros you were at a sharp disadvantage if you were in anything less than top shape and skilled. Most importantly, it would help my image which would be key to the preservation of me.

Secondly and tied to my nascent PR campaign, I needed to endear myself to as many blacks and greens as I could manage. I needed to at least have Rhaenyra and Alicent on my side. Ideally that would give me enough sway to keep the Dance from spiraling out of control. More realistically I was hoping to earn enough brownie points that no one would think to paint a target on my back and I could just hunker down and weather the storm.

Who am I kidding,,, Realistically Rhaenyra would never be on my side. She would prefer my execution rather than anything else, Though I don't blame her for that, because it'll make her authority legitimacy less questionable.

So, I need to use my knowledge to get closer to the Green supporters. And when the dance begins I need to make sure they fight with using outmost effort.

Third, I needed to make myself valuable enough to not be deemed expendable. This one was going to be tricky as I doubted my skillset was going to be terribly valuable in this world and more importantly I was unsure of how well it would make it through the years. I was better off not focusing on what I can bring from my old world and instead focusing on what I could do to accrue value in this one.

Since I was a Targaryen this meant a dragon. On paper that did not seem like a terribly tall order, infant dragons were a dime a dozen in this period and those were less inclined to roast you and eat your face than their elders. I did not want a bigger dragon anyway, those were slower and made you a target. On the off chance that I could even survive such an encounter it would be suboptimal. A dragon would give me worth but a small, fast one could also serve as a getaway car should shit really hit the fan.

I admit that I probably do not sound too brave but I would welcome you to go straight to hell, I died about a month ago and there was no way in hell that I would repeat that. Nope, what-ever-my-name-is Targaryen was going to be a minor, long-lived and probably less than glorious member of the house and that is how I like it.

Obviously, my goals are very long-term so for now I had to focus on what I could do. I needed to keep this cute routine going for as long as possible and milk the living hell out of it. I needed to start working my body as soon as it felt like cooperating and I also needed to pick up written and spoken Westron as soon as possible. Then I needed to get my tiny hands on every scrap of dragonlore I could.

It would ruin my plans if I got scorched and eaten so I needed to go in with at least a 90% chance of success.

To be fair though I had to concede that my first order of business should probably be getting this body able to walk and free of diapers.

Priorities and all that.