Chapter 3.

Aemon Targaryen, 101 AC.

It had been four years since the day that sealed the Targaryen twins' fate and set them on their dangerous adventure. From that day forward, they were inseparable, causing a fuss whenever anyone attempted to part them, even at night.

Their bond was unique, not one of just close siblings, but one of two wandering souls that attracted each other as kindred spirits. They used the quiet of the night to talk and strategize, plotting their way through the intricate politics of this world. Almost every night, they would sleep together, seizing the opportunity to discuss matters of importance and unravel the mysteries of Westeros.

Aemon had shared all he could recall about the plot he knew, especially the era in which they found themselves. Together, they reached a critical understanding: they must prevent the extinction of the dragons. The Dance of the Dragons had been a catastrophic event, crippling their lineage for generations. Even the Blackfyre Rebellions hadn't brought so much destruction.

The Targaryens, though unique in their own right, were essentially just slightly superior humans. Some wielded magical powers and exhibited martial prowess beyond the ordinary, but their true distinction lay in their ability to command dragons, the closest thing to nukes in their world. Without dragons, they were merely a bunch of enhanced human beings in a land filled with unknown perils.

'At least we don't have to worry about the Long Night, I think…' Aemon mused as he wandered through the halls of Harrrenhal. Each time he passed a servant or a noble, he would nod and smile politely. Some of the young ladies blushed at his attention, while the older ones threw lingering glances and playful winks his way. He was quite certain that, if he wished, they would gladly throw themselves at him.

He sighed, exasperated by the absurdity of this. He was only four years old, just a little tall for his age, so perhaps could pass for eight, but the fact that even then some of the older women wanted him was deeply disturbing. 'Not like I can do anything anyway,' he thought, his 'Balerion' was still an infant, incapable of breathing fire. Not that he would amuse them even if he could; the last thing he wanted was to sire bastards who might one day rise in rebellion.

"Aemon," a melodic voice called his name from behind. He turned to see his sister, and he smiled genuinely, a stark contrast to the polite smiles he offered strangers.

"Rae, I've finally found you," he said, relief evident in his voice.

He had been searching for her through the castle for some time, worried about leaving her alone in this place filled with strangers. 

If Aemon struggled with unwanted attention, his sister faced triple the amount. A pair of haunting, enigmatic violet eyes, brimming with wisdom beyond their years, gazed back at him. Her pale skin, almost translucent and devoid of blemishes, sometimes appeared uncanny to him. Her long, silvery hair cascaded over her small, delicate shoulders.

She was, without a doubt, a beauty in the making.

In his heart, he had no choice but to admit that his sister was perhaps the most beautiful being in the realm, and in the future, perhaps the entire world.

Of course, this realization stemmed not from desire, but from pure aesthetic appreciation. He recalled the numerous suitors seeking her hand in marriage, some even older than their parents. 'Sick bastards,' he thought, indignant at the idea of his sister, his otherworldly companion in this treacherous world, being wed to an old man.

Rhaenyra, sensing his thoughts, smiled at his antics. She flicked his forehead gently. "Don't worry about things we can't control, my stupid brother. And stop calling me Rae in public. Show your older sister some respect for a change," she tried to sound stern, but it only made her more precious in his eyes.

He nodded, feigning seriousness. "Yes, yes, I won't do it again, Itachi," he said dismissively.

Rhaenyra, used to his attitude and odd nicknames, ignored him and changed the topic. "Who do you think will be named heir?" she asked.

Aemon raised an eyebrow. "I've told you, our father will definitely win. It's a canon event," he said confidently.

Rhaenyra shook her head, slightly disappointed in him. "Don't trust too much your past memories, Aemon. You know they can change. You are living proof of that."

She was right. His existence had altered the course of history. He would most certainly be named heir instead of Rhaenyra, even if she was older by a few minutes. Viserys wouldn't consider naming Rhaenyra heir in this timeline unless something terrible happened to Aemon, something he hoped to avoid.

He didn't want to end up like his grandfather Baelon, who had recently died of appendicitis, or his granduncle Aemon, after whom he was named, who had died tragically in a fight. 'Baelon was a cool guy,' he recalled fondly. Baelon had taken him and Rhaenyra for rides on his horse and even suggested letting them ride Vhagar once, a notion quickly denied by a pretty livid Aemma.

It was a shame he hadn't known how Baelon would die. He knew the man's fate was sealed as his father was named heir, but he hadn't imagined it would be something as mundane as appendicitis. 'I should've read the damn book,' he regretted not reading it in his past life, still haunted by the awful ending of *Game of Thrones*.

He tried to focus on the present, on Rhaenyra walking beside him, lost in her thoughts. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

Rhaenyra, distracted, answered absentmindedly, "I was thinking about Uncle Daemon."

For some reason, her answer made him uncomfortable, and he fell silent.

Perhaps sensing the disturbance in the atmosphere around Aemon, Rhaenyra shifted her focus to him.

A somewhat cute, frowning face greeted her.

His beautiful purple eyes, reminiscent of two perfectly carved amethysts, trembled slightly. He bit his rosy lips unconsciously—a telltale sign of his anger or frustration, this habit of his was something she had come to recognize after years together.

His silver hair shone in the sunlight as they passed through the castle's colonnades, each strand seeming to possess a light of its own.

He stood rather tall for his age, giving him an appearance older than he really was. 

Though his face was still that of a child, she could already envision how he would look in a few years.

He was, without a doubt, a devastatingly beautiful being, just as she was. 

She wasn't being narcissistic, she just could't deny the facts. 

'Targaryens were indeed beautiful creatures.' She mused. 

She could foresee the countless hearts he would break in the future, of both men and women alike.

She marveled at the thought, finding herself a bit eager to witness the scene of a grown-up Aemon navigating such troubles.

Rhaenyra noticed his discomfort. "What's wrong?" she asked, knowing something troubled him.

"Why are you thinking about Daemon? Is it because I told you that in the original timeline, he was supposed to be your husband? Do you fancy him?"

Rhaenyra was taken aback. "What? Why would you think that?" She was genuinely confused. When they discussed the future knowledge Aemon possessed about this world, the mention of her supposed marriage to her uncle arose.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. The idea of marriage with any man, a concept she had yet to fully reconcile with, already disturbed her. Marrying her own uncle, who was nearly the same age as her father, was an even worse prospect.

She denied it immediately, saying, "No, never. I don't see Daemon that way, and I know for a fact that this will never change." She looked him directly in the eyes as she spoke.

Aemon, oddly relieved, asked, "Then why were you thinking about him?"

Rhaenyra explained, "I was wondering if he will truly support our father's claim as he said he would. He holds us dear—"

Aemon interrupted her with a snide remark, "I can see how dear he wants to hold you."

He wasn't fond of Daemon, especially the way he looked at Rhaenyra, who by the way was only four. 'That prick…'

Ignoring his interruption, Rhaenyra continued, "As I was saying, he holds us dear, so I can't see him rebelling against us, at least not now."

Aemon remained skeptical. "Yeah, right. Just you wait. The moment father makes me his heir, Daemon will lose his mind."

Rhaenyra couldn't argue with that. She knew her uncle's temperament all too well, as did the entire realm. 'Things are about to get complicated…'

With this concern weighing on their minds, the twins continued their stroll through the castle, thinking and planning their next moves in this dangerous dance.