Childhood.

A magical period in our life where everything is much simpler. Even if you're a poor little fella, things tend to be a tad-wee easier to withstand. Most of us aren't real-life protagonists so we have parents, and parents protect their children, nurture us. Oh, you didn't had these? Well sucks for you. Anyway. What I'm trying to say is that few things are as sacred worldwide as our infancy. No coincidence that in the mythological Golden Age of Greece it was supposed that men lived entire lifetimes of childhood.

Just before I died, my childhood was experiencing its death throes. As our emerging teenage years starts, comes an uncontrollable desire of fitting in, finding our place, growing, becoming adults capable of deciding our own fate. We willingly sacrifice our childhood, dedicating ourselves to an impossible task: pretend, we children, that we are adults.

Desperate, drunken in folly maturity, I grabbed a knife and killed my own innocence, ending this period of bliss by paying money to a man turn me into a 'woman'. Why would such a young girl do that, you ask? Fear. A scrawny, brown-skinned, and freckled lass in her neediest years...and my friends were older girls, beautiful girls, putting up their shows. Boyfriend this, boyfriend that. Sex here, sex there. Couldn't I have hanged around and picked up a nerdy boy to sate this necessity? Mayhaps.

Had I the courage? Teasing, embarassing, seducing; those aren't the same as charming, flirting and loving.

And to survive. To reign as their 'queen bee', that scrawny, brown-skinned, freckled sweet girl that adored books and games, should become past. A new, powerful, acid and cunning little lady would rise forth, beguilling and needed.

Was that me, though? 

I was reborn now, once again. Wings sprawled my back, and magic filled my veins. A new life was beginning once again, and now...no need for masks, no need to rush.

I would live my childhood to its full potential!

Oooh...as if it wouldn't be just like the words of my beloved House Targaryen.

"Fire and Blood".

About that time I still had no teeth

Being a baby again wasn't half the fun I thought it would be.

Part of me thought that I could benefit from being a little ball to see and hear things I shouldn't. But really, being almost blind and language deaf didn't helped as much. Some tensei stories make it as a cool thing, but it sucks a little. And talking about suckle...It sucked too, a lot. Breast milk is fucking horrible, how do you guys fetishize about it? And altogether my plot progression was quite slow, although some things were really curious and big. 

During my first weeks I never left my quarters, and that also applied to Daenerys a.k.a Mom. It seemed like wet nurses were a common thing in this world, but both of my parents refused it vehemently. They had pretty good reasons, also.

I had two leather wings, akin to little bat arms, of a reddish-brown shade, alongside black tough nails and a stubby little tail, like that of a newborn lizard. For quite some time I thought that was some sort of legendary quality (as I couldn't really understand shit of their grim talk), until all that isolation striked me as too weird.

Only 3 people interacted with me 98% of the time: Daenerys, Maegon (Pops) and Meister Lucah.

Around a month in and I was finally getting a very bad grasp about what they were talking, and was slowly understanding what setting was I up to.

Certainly this was a medieval world. I lived in a huge castle, that with few exceptions, was all black, sinister and full of dragon statues. Getting a hold of my family's name was easy, since they would speak about it here and there: Targaryen. With time I would be introduced, slowly, by a number of other interesting elements, and most important of all: dragons themselves!

My clan, family, or House, as they say, had a very, very cool power, and for that I could endure all those boring days and nights as a baby. We were capable of forging a sort of psychic link with a dragon to ride and command them into action. Sadly I didn't got to directly interact with one until much later. More often than not, me and Daenerys, would sit by window side and watch the gray skies of Dragonstone — an isle and also how this castle by the sea was called —, it was a beautiful view full of hills, grasslands and a distant volcano, but here and there the gulls would disappear and a flying serpent would conquer the clouds, stealing my breath, and brimming my tiny heart with expectations.

Maegon Targaryen, my father, was the eldest son of the Targaryen's main line family, descendants of Maegon Targaryen (again) and Vaella Saerynth, of pure valyrian descent, and that meant we were of an atlantis-like race that lost its home civilization around 80 years before my birth (Our ancestors also weren't pretty creative, as names like Maegon, Aegon, Aegor, were all around, without even using things like 'The First' and 'The Fifth'. I will though, so daddy is Maegon II here in my version of this story here on after). Father was head of the family, and rode a completely white, huge and badass dragoness called Meraxes. Everytime daddy would fly off, Daenerys would do that, sit with me and watch him going away, sighing as a lovestruck teen.

Whenever that happened she would, shortly after, put me in a secured chair, sit right in front of me, and give me lessons as if I could really understand them. This helped me grasp language a bit better, and it seemed like something indo-european, like a very exotic form of greek — and that sucked! If it could at least be a bit like japanese I would learn it faster.

"Drip fire from your veins, oh Fourteen Flames that burn in Heaven and Earth; Fire and Blood to gold, to light our hearth, to warm our cold dead bodies, to blaze our spirits...

Balerion, The Father; Vhagar, The Mother; protect your children.
Caraxes and Meraxes, Brother and Sister, blood from men and women; protect your siblings.
Arrax and Onixa, Rain and Thunder, fortune of the gods; protect your siblings.
Vermax and Tessarion, Thought and Action, enabler of mortals; protect your siblings.
Tyraxes and Syrax, Son and Daughter, joy from the skies; protect your siblings.
Terrax and Shrykos, Wind and Sail, in human flesh; show Maegon his way." 

She would chant everytime Maegon disappeared by the clouds, her eyes on me, and a smile I could not decypher on her lips. Curiously she always claimed 14 gods, but only ever prayed to 12.

Daenerys was prety different from my father — against all odds, more on later, because all those mentioned gods she would so fervently pray were all siblings, and so were my parents. Yeah, weird, but it was the Targaryen's way, although things were complicated. Did you notice a fleeting absence of a last name for my mother? That's quite relevant for both of us...

Mother was an illegitimate child. Grampa was a stern man, but quite a flickering candle for women. It seems his marriage with a cousin wasn't enough, and petty rumors say that my granny (Dad's mom) was a frigid lady-wizard. Eventually came to his hands a young slave from some pretty far away place, she was exotic and beautiful, and her freckles smashed the Targaryen's heart strong. Just after Maegon was born by Aella Tyressa, the nameless slave girl appeared pregnant, and not long after, poof came mother. She died giving birth, and Lord Grampa couldn't stop his grievance, so he threw her inside the household and made her Maegon's personal servant.

Guess what happened 20-ish years later? 

Yeeees, me!

Being half-siblings didn't stopped them from clapping, but as heir to Dragonstone, father couldn't marry a bastard, a lowborn woman daugther of some nameless child-paramour. They never married, and that made me~~

A BASTARD! 

Isn't that cool? Yaaaay...

Shit.

A small inconvenience

I was almot 2 year old, my vocal cords were becoming usable, and I could mutter one thing or two, which was pretty advantageous as that let me communicate quite well for a toddler, it was remarkably hard to learn High Valyrian (my new mother tongue) so only a few words entered my small baby brain at a time. The quarters were quite of a prison, but no baby would be capable of exploring anyway, so I crawled around happily and flapped my wings like no tomorrow, so one day they would fly. My tail grew a lot bigger, and was cute usable as a third leg, although it was a bit hard to control. 

Very rarely Daenerys would ever leave my side, and that day, that strange day, was one of them.

The Castle of Dragonstone was noisy, and I heard dragons swirling all morning. Some celebration was happening, and I would discover later, it was the birth of a cousin of mine. As lord of the castle, father had duties to perform, and it seems that people were starting to nag mom as one of those paranoid mothers (which could raise suspicion of my draconic condition), so she dressed simple and elegant, all in purple, and marched to aid her beloved brother in his work. 

Meister Lucah was responsible for me for all that day, and as all days before, he stared at me in a mixture of awe and terror.

I grew increasingly bored. They gave me all sorts of toys, but...There's only so much a mentally 18-year old can do with wooden horses, dragons, and stickmen. Sometimes books slipped into my hands, but I was mostly analphabet, and could only admire the pictures and guess what was happening there. And without Daenerys close to give me stories, and lure me into a spoiled baby girl, as a 18-year old woman, I was almost crying.

"Do you understand me?" The priest said some gibberish. It almost felt like english, but old and weird. "This is the common tongue, and this..." With a click of his tongue, the man in grey changed his language "This is High Valyrian, better now?"

I cocked my big head to the side, and nodded positively.

"I am - Meister - Meis-ter - Lucah - Loo - Cah."

"I know." 

"Oh...huhm..." 

"You are Master Lucah. You help me born."

"Yeees...I helped you to be born, yes." His eyes sparkled. "But my name is Meister. Meister." 

Was he dumb? I thought that this 'meister' thing was just an accent.

"I am no master, child. A master is a holder of slaves, or a man that commands, and I am no such thing." He sat alongside me, and proudly touched the chains around his neck. "I am a meister. See these? Those are chains. And each of my chains says I know of something."

"Chains." I repeated this new valyrian word.

"Yes...chains. You are quite smart, are you not?"

For hours we talked to each other in something that could very well be labelled as alien contact. His speech was more polite, clear and easier to follow than mother's and this helped me sharpen my high valyrian pretty fastly in just a noon. Almost everything we said was irrelevant, just a childish banter.

"Hungry." The sun was already going to sleep, and without mommy's nectar, I would soon wither and die.

As there was no food available there, the meister soon stood up and tried to call any servants passing by, but no one was even there. The man frowned, looked back at me, and again to the corridor, bit his cheek and took a brave breath.

"I will fetch something for you in the kitchens, so wait here, understand?"

"Beef."

"Und...Beef, right." He laughed.

"Understand." I repeated, giving him a threatening smile. Not because I could really scary someone with my sheer presence, but because Meister Lucah was always spooked by my horribly sharp teeth. I thougt of them as adorable, he probably saw it as some sort of abomination, since he was the equivalent of a christian in this world, and my parents were heathens...heathens that had a baby worth hiding for an entire year. This could be bad, but well, wings~

Soon after he went out, exasperated steps came running back, and I was sure that Lucah was outed by someone and came back thinking that Maegon would sentence him to dragonteeth by abandoning me. I continued to flip the pages of a illustrated scroll, staring at the indecent art they put there to symbolize how the chief-gods, siblings, mated and brought forth their offspring. It was good art, 6/10, more than enough incest, not enough butts.

Then the door opened.

And no adult shadow appeared. My nearsight — freckled and bad sighted twice in a life row, what were the odds? — made me squint to see what it was, while a thrill congealed the blood in my veins. What I saw was no assassin, but after 2 years in complete isolation, I froze.

A sweaty, adorable, out of breath little boy with big and round innocent amethyst eyes. He grasped for air thrice, shutting his eyelids hard, then opened then just to see me staring back at him, my pathetic little gliders flapping nervously.

His jeweled-eyes opened so wide that they could encompasses the whole world.

My tail flubbed one side to another.

And his mouth gaped more than ginnungagap.

Slowly...slowly...he raised his trembling hand to open the door...

Both of us gulped, eyes tangled in a mental fight...

AND I POUNCED! 

The boy spun, opened the door, and I threw myself onto his legs, bringing to the ground. We were about the same size, both came crashing down! A kick closed it again, but as soon as he rose, I fell in my head. Grinding my sharp teeth, I rolled until my back hit the door, making it impossible for him to escape.

Distressed, he darted through my quarter, and I took my time to lock the damn door before someone else could enter and cause more trouble. When I looked back at him, the idiot boy was trying to climb a window.

"No!" I dashed to his direction with that lightning reflexes of a stubby toddler.

"AAAA AA AAA!" His sheeply scream echoed to the sides of Dragonstone castle, and only became more intense as I got his nice clothes with a black grip of tough nails, and dragged him to the ground.

He punched and kicked, and I gave him a headbutt. Soon we wrestled in what felt like an epic battle between two great fighters, I was brawling for my life there, but outside all that could probably heard were muffled blows from our soft baby hands. 

Cutie managed to roll us so he was beneath, and used his elder stature to lift me up and toss me like a rotten fruit to the side. The fall expelled all ir from my lungs, and cramped my wings pretty painfully, leaving him an opening to escape. He ran three steps, and my heart pumped so loudly in my eardrums that everything went silent for a singular second.

I intended to scream, to intimidate him, but instead, I spat a boiling gunk of saliva followed by a copious jet of fire that swept his direction.

To this day I can't comprehend how he got out of that unharmed, but he did.

Just as my firebreath stopped, an infernal feeling burnt all the way to my nose, as if I've puked molten wax and soda altogether. I coughed, grasping for breath, while all I could get was a hot and light miasma cooking my chest. I choked, tumbled down, and throwed up bile, bread and milk, bubbling and smoking.

Maybe I would've died there, asphyxiated with my own fluids...but that frightened and teary boy came to aid me. Later I would have the chance to ask him why, how, but at that moment I was just thankful. He lifted me, brought to bed, and helped me breath, even pulling something stuck in my mouth — a transparent, pink-ish, membrane, long and thin that shedded all the way to my esophagus.

After removing that disgusting thing, I finally tasted sweet oxygen again. Had we age, I would've kissed him immediately, but instead I jumped onto him and put my innocuous hands around his neck.

"Tell. Someone. I kill you. And family."

This betrayal left him dumbstruck, and a comfortable warm feeling came swirled around us. Destiny? Romance? No, he pissed himself.

"I. Eat you."

His eyes were full of tears, but they didn't dared to fall.

"Promish?"

"I promise." Said his trembling lips.

And I let him go. Now drenched in the pee of my child enemy...cool.

He stumbled up, cheeks wet with tears, apparently drowzy, and I felt bad about that, but hey...my survival was on the line, I needed silence, and with no psychoanalist in this world, he would certainly bring it to his grave. I wanted, but I couldn't be that evil...

I calmed him down with the little experience earned from caring my younger cousins from past-life, cleaned his tears, and wiped his legs. A hug helped get things more on control. His defenses were nigh inexistent, and he only politely said one thing to me:

"don...don't eat Rhaenys plwease..."

"...I won't." 

"promise?" 

"promish." 

We could have become friends right there, I think. Had we time, we would sit and play, probably until Meister Lucah came back, and helped me convince that boy even more to hide our little secret.

That however, was not the case, as soon a childish but military-like voice shouted wildly:

"AEGON! AEGON! COME BACK HERE, AEGON!"

For a last time we exchanged glances, and I tightened my fingers before nodding and letting him go.

Just before Aegon disappeared beyond that door, he whispered:

"It's a promise."

Later that night mom was pretty surprised that I had pee'd myself for the first time since spoken words left my mouth. Meister Lucah confessed his sin of leaving me alone, and was heavily lectured by Maegon/Daddy. I, however, sealed my lips tight, and trusted pissed cute boy Aegon.

He never told anyone. Never.

Short after Aegon and his family, a secondary branch from House Targaryen that lived in a city called Pentos, a big ship anchored on our shores. Days later, everything I needed, and my mother loved, was tightly shut inside wooden crates.

Daenerys, my sweet mommy, was a pile of nerves and I thought for a moment that her white locks would swallow her beautiful black hair. She explained me what I had to do, and yes, fear also struck me, but she promised we would not be away for long.

I was put, with my toys, a favorite book, and an egg-shaped rock the size of a fist, inside a thick and black chest.

Before I was smuggled inside that ship, mother prayed:

"Morghul and Meleys, End and Beginning...protect my daughter."

And I discovered the name of the remaining Fourteen Gods of Flame.

Kuramitsuha

Accord to the man that created High Valyrian they have no sound for 'th' and 'sh'. I call it a bit of BS. We have names like 'Vermithor', that although doesn't strike as very Valyrian-esque, don't sound like something out of Western Essos, neither Westerosi. Valyrian culture and names populated an entire continent that englobes almost all of Asia and Eastern Europe in Planetos 'standards, but the Targaryen and Belaerys names are way too uniform, but cool.

That said Saerynth and Tyressa are a Minor Valyrian house (like Velaryon), and a Dragonlord house respectively, both original of this work.There'll be more on them, so yeah~

Also a big shout out to some dude/dudette that made the lore of the 14 main gods of Valyrian culture for their fanfic, and posted it on Reddit. I would credit you, but your username is deleted, so that's just life.