Rhaegal Targaryen was an oddity.
Sometimes he feared he was mad. How else could you explain his otherworldly awareness? Ever since he was born amidst the flames, his thoughts had been clear. He saw everything, heard everything, smelled everything, felt everything. And he understood.
It was torture.
He only knew that this was not normal because his twin brother was not like him.
Or maybe he was suffering in silence too. Rhaegal had no way of knowing, for even if his thoughts were clear his body limited him. An infant could not speak, just make random noises.
Biology was working against him. It would be his worst enemy for the first few years of his life.
He was born into a family others could only dream of, but such was his burden. For the grass was not always so green on the other side.
Rhaegal was born in the year 259 AC, during what was arguably the second biggest tragedy to hit house Targaryen.
Summerhall.
Rhaegal could still feel the flames on his skin when he emerged from the womb. What an experience that had been. Even for a Targaryen, it was not a pleasant memory.
He knew what had taken place there, or what was being said. A celebration gone wrong. A mere accident that had claimed the lives of so many Targaryens, even those that had been cousins from other families.
Rhaegal suspected otherwise, not that his mother or father spoke of the event. At least not in his presence.
For you see, Rhaegal had another secret besides his otherworldly awareness. He had knowledge, knowledge that he should not be privy to. It all rumbled through his head, and it irked him. He could not make sense of it for he knew not where it came from. It left him brooding many times, something his mother and other caretakers often joked about.
Part of this knowledge included knowing much about the world he was born in, such as knowing that his great-grandfather had perhaps been attempting to revive the long dead dragons with the aid of wildfire. How true was this claim? Rhaegal did not know. By the time he could regain his bearings, he was already out of the castle, safe and in his mother's arms. Whatever the truth of it, Rhaegal would probably never know.
Not that it concerned him much. As big of a tragedy as it was, Rhaegal was not going to concern himself with the past. The future was all that mattered.
This was where the situation was most troubling to him. For as aware as he was about past events, such as Aegon's Conquest and the Dance of the Dragons, his knowledge of the future remained murky. Why? Rhaegal did not know. This fact irked him further. He was only aware of one truth: his father's reign would bring doom to the house of the dragon. Even now, Rhaegal could see it: his father stabbed from the back by a man with golden locks; his mother in pain as she gave birth on Dragonstone before succumbing to her injuries; his brother struck down by a giant of a man. The dragon was cast down, and in its demise a new symbol arose: the stag.
But just how these events come to pass….again, Rhaegal did not know. Just why and how did Rhaegal have this knowledge?
A bigger mystery. His family was known for its eccentricities, dragon dreams chiefly among them. This went beyond that.
Was there a grand design for this knowledge? Did his life serve a grand purpose?
The Targaryens were already floundering. Without their dragons, they did not have much control over the rest of the noble houses. The crown was too weak, too decentralized.
It was truly a tragedy that he had been born when his house was on its knees.
Things needed to change. Somehow, Rhaegal would make sure that that future did not come to pass. His family would not perish in such a horrific fashion. For he was a dragon, and dragons protected their own.
Sadly, many in his family had forgotten this simple lesson.
For now, he was just an infant. And time passed by.
His grandfather had been crowned Jaehaerys, The Second of His Name. Rhaegal and his twin brother had been there to witness the ceremony despite their young age. He knew why of course. Only six Targaryens remained at the capital now, two of which were just infants. His grandfather wanted to show the realm that the house of the dragon still stood strong despite Summerhall. Showing weakness was the same as inviting the vultures to feast on their corpses. The man grieved in silence, not in public.
Despite his weak body, his grandfather had a strong spirit.
It was during the coronation at the glorious Sept of Baelor that Rhaegal was able to get a look at the lords of the realm. Even the Starks from the north came, and they were as stern as Rhaegal had imagined.
These lords were either going to be his future adversaries or allies. For now, Rhaegal merely took stock of them.
A tourney took place soon after, but Rhaegal would not be a part of the event for he was still much too young.
Events happened quickly after that. His first year was spent sleeping, eating, and pooping. Being aware of all of this was more torturous and demeaning than imaginable. At least he was able to get out of King's Landing. The whole place smelled like a rotting corpse, or worse. Or at least, that's what Rhaegal would imagine a corpse smelling like. Thanks to his grandfather's ascension, Rhaegal and his family had moved to Dragonstone. His father was now the crown prince, after all. His mother would also be accompanied by a retinue of ladies, some of which hailed from the great houses of the kingdom.
Dragonstone was much nicer than King's Landing. Some might think it depressing, but Rhaegal found great comfort within its walls. This was where Targaryens belonged.
During this time, events in Essos forced his father and mother to part ways. Not that his mother seemed to miss his presence. Perhaps there was not much love in this marriage? It was something else for Rhaegal to consider in the future.
A group known as the Band of Nine had been expanding their influence on the eastern continent. It was with great frustration that Rhaegal was not able to know too many specifics of what exactly was going on, only that they had recently conquered the Stepstones. Fearing further incursion, his grandfather decided to strike first, with his father going off to take part with the rest of the lords.
It would only be until much later that Rhaegal was able to learn of what occurred during the war and why his grandfather was so apprehensive of the group, but for now he carried on with the painstaking life of an infant.
There might have been more brooding during all of this.
Rhaegal questioned many things during this first year, as well as tried to organize what information he had for future use.
Why and how came up many times, again and again, but ultimately he did not dwell on these things. If he did, then he would get nowhere.
It was shortly after his father returned from the war that the last major event of Rhaegal's first year occurred.
They were set to return to King's Landing to celebrate the Iron Throne's victory over the Band of Nine when Rhaegal witnessed an argument between his parents. It was the first time that they were arguing in his presence, and Rhaegal wasn't sure what to make of it. He had already suspected that his parents might be a match of necessity rather than love, but seeing his mother heartbroken at his father's recent infidelity cut him deep. His mind was clouded by his emotions, of those of the body he inhabited. It would be something else to consider, but for now he was too overcome by grief. That grief only grew when his father berated his mother for trying to control him.
When his mother looked close to tears, Rhaegal exploded.
More accurately, his hands exploded….in flames.
It was almost like a dragon was breathing fire from his palms. The flames were fierce, and for a second Rhaegal was afraid that he would be consumed in them. The flames lit up the room, and it was fortunate that he was still in his cradle and away from his parents. If they had been closer, then the flames might have swallowed them whole.
Unfortunately, his brother was much closer, with his cradle placed next to Rhaegal's, and he burst into tears when he was hit by the heat from the flames. Good thing Rhaegal had his hands stretched upwards, for only the ceiling was struck directly.
This did not stop his parents from gawking at the scene before them, rooted in place.
The flames lasted for a few seconds, as it took Rhaegal a few moments to process what was happening. Already his mind was racing as he wrestled back control of his emotions
'I'm a pyromancer?'
Life was going to become more complicated, and he wasn't even potty trained yet.