[POV: Prince Raegon]
From the moment he was born, Prince Raegon was different. His cries, though healthy, had an intensity that seemed more than just a baby's. His deep lilac eyes seemed too wise for a child, following movements with unusual focus. Maesters whispered about his pure blood, thicker than any in generations. Jack, inside this small body, tried to act like a normal child, but everything he experienced – sounds, touches, smells – was amplified by his Super Soldier Body's heightened senses.
He learned fast, picking up language and customs at incredible speed. His mind was always working, connecting his past life's knowledge with this new world. He quickly found a love for the castle's libraries, devouring every scroll and book he could get his hands on, from histories of Westeros to ancient Valyrian texts. He watched his father, Prince Viserys, a good man, but too gentle for court politics. He watched his mother, Aemma, kind and delicate, already tired from the pressure to have more sons.
But it was his Great-Grandfather, King Jaehaerys I, who truly drew Raegon's attention. The Old King, wise and sharp despite his age, often asked for the baby. Jaehaerys would hold him, his old fingers tracing Raegon's tiny hand, his keen eyes looking into Raegon's own. A unique bond grew between the very old and the very young. Raegon, with his Beast Speaker ability, could even hear the soft, longing thoughts of the King's old hounds, always near his feet. Raegon became the Old King's favorite great-grandchild, a silent, comforting presence.
Then came the day of his egg. Every Targaryen baby got a dragon egg. Most never hatched. But Raegon knew his fate. The maesters placed a large, mottled black egg, streaked with crimson, next to him.
The moment the egg touched his cradle's silk, a low rumble filled the room. The midwives gasped. Prince Viserys, ever hoping, leaned in. And then, a sound that shook the Red Keep, not just from the egg, but from Raegon himself: a powerful, happy roar, matching the tiny cracks on the shell.
The egg split. Out came a hatchling unlike any seen in generations. It was dark, almost black, with eyes like molten gold that instantly fixed on Raegon. It stretched its leathery wings, surprisingly big for a hatchling, and let out a sharp cry of challenge.
"He's hatched!" Viserys cried, pure joy on his face. "A dragon! A living dragon!"
Raegon reached out a tiny hand, and the hatchling immediately nuzzled into his palm, purring like a giant cat. He knew the name. He had chosen it in his dreams.
"Alduin," Raegon babbled, a word that sounded ancient and strong even from a baby's lips. "Alduin... the World Eater."
Viserys laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Alduin? A fearsome name for a fearsome beast, my son! May he devour our enemies!"
But as the days turned into weeks, then months, something amazing happened. Alduin grew. And grew. And grew. Much faster than any dragon known in recent memory. A year passed, and Alduin was the size of a warhorse. Two years, and he was bigger than the largest horses in the royal stables. By the time Raegon was four years old, Alduin's wingspan already matched some of the smaller, ridden dragons of the Targaryen family, a beast of sleek, black muscle and golden eyes. He was already five times larger than a dragon of his age should be.
[POV: Prince Viserys]
"He grows… almost too fast," Prince Viserys mumbled to Aemma one evening, watching Alduin devour a whole ox carcass with terrifying efficiency in the Dragonpit. "Like Balerion of old, but even quicker. It's… a gift from the gods, surely. He is truly a dragon's son." Viserys felt a surge of pride and wonder. His son, his firstborn, was truly special. Aemma, watching them, smiled tiredly but with affection. Viserys cherished the moments with his strong, vibrant son, a stark contrast to the quiet grief still lingering from his brother Baelon's recent death.
[POV: King Jaehaerys I]
Indeed, the growth rate of Alduin was astonishing, a testament to the purity of Raegon's blood. The maesters were baffled, writing endless scrolls, but offered no explanation. Only King Jaehaerys, watching from the castle walls, would sometimes nod, a thoughtful, knowing look in his wise old eyes as he observed Raegon and his monstrous hatchling. He felt a deep resonance with the boy, a sense that Raegon understood things no child should. A rare, fading wisdom recognized a budding, unprecedented one.
[POV: Prince Raegon]
Four years later, Princess Rhaenyra would be born, small and frail compared to her robust older brother, a source of constant worry for Aemma. Raegon, though still young, already felt the heavy weight of his future role as her protector. He knew the dangers ahead, and he was already preparing.
[End POV: Prince Raegon]