I'm going to die

Despite some minor hiccups however, things seemed to be going well. I had come to terms with my demise and had decided to settle for avoiding a repeat. Which is to say that I worked to the best of my ability to be the cutest and least troublesome baby possible, given the affection in the faces of the maids and the annoyed expression they made with my much more troublesome neighbor, I was succeeding. Especially with the maid that feeds me milk.

.....

It was about a month in the I realized how screwed I was.

…

It was fairly early in the day when the nannies scurried into action, they changed me and what I was now very certain was my twin. Red and black like the rest of our surroundings (right down to framing with gold) and frankly ridiculous but much like what I had decided was my stance on this new life, I decided to play on being as cute as an extremely festive button.

Once we were sufficiently prepared the nannies ran and fetched my green visitor who I was beginning to suspect might well be my mother. Which would solidly confirm that genetics are weird wherever I was given how little like her we looked.

While she normally had an attendant or two on hand during her visits this time she came with around a dozen young women who looked a little too well-dressed to be servants. Handmaidens perhaps? Ladies-in-waiting? Wait were those the same thing?

She inspected each of us before calling a follower to take one of us into her arms. After we set off I quickly puzzled out why she was not holding us herself. It was a really long walk and I could totally get behind not wanting to make the walk with two less than tiny babies in hand.

As we walked I idly noted that there was a lot of red in our surroundings, red stone which for some reason struck an ominous cord for me.

We stopped before a massive entrance for a moment and I got a sinking feeling. Why did this seem so familiar? More importantly, why did it give me such a bad feeling? That question hung in my mind until the doors opened and I saw it.

It was a gods be damned monster of melted steel. It towered like a massive beast which had curled around the heart of the cavernous chamber, a beast made of blades beyond counting all twisted into the shape of a massive throne by the flames of the great creature whose head hung behind the throne and rivaling it in size.

The vast skull was of a beast which in life had horns and wicked fangs with a shape that screamed one of the most evocative words in literature and myth. Dragon.

At that moment, every clue I had received since arriving clicked into place at once. Red and black, violet eyes and silver-gold hair, three hills in a port city, dragon skulls and an iron throne. My tiny heart stopped for a moment from shock and the cute smile I tried to wear on my face was almost a rictus grin.

The woman, our mother advanced into the chamber, trailed by her ladies. She was almost glowing with pride which was to be expected from a mother presenting her children. Hopefully her first given her obvious youth.

I was in Westeros, that was not good.

The courtiers were murmuring things to each other as we passed, I saw dozens of different heraldries across their clothing. Dresses and doublets of countless colours. Cuts and hats like a renaissance fair gone rampant. I saw towers, animals, weapons of all sorts announcing the identities of the now familiar houses.

I was in Westeros and I was a baby.

She stopped before the throne and kneeled before the man who I now realized was our father and the child who was likely our sister. My brain went into overdrive as I tried to puzzle out exactly which Targaryens we were as the they spoke in Westron which surprisingly enough was not English, lovely that. I could not recall that many twins being born into the Targaryens which was not helpful and our mother obviously was not a Targaryen either. I had one big indicator of which time period I was in and it worried me.

I was in Westeros and there were way too few skulls in the chamber.

He came down to pick up my brother, then myself. His eyes were still too kind, worse they seemed weak.

I was in Westeros and I was going to die again.

He passed us to our sister, who kissed us each on the brow. Though it's seem like she doesn't want to.

I was in Westeros, oh sweet gods no.

I recognized the parts. The mother with a tower as an emblem who would one day wear green, the smiling king who was all to weak and the young heiress who would be made a monster.

I would see the Dance, I was going to die again.

Noooooooo.....!!!!