"No," she agreed immediately.
He glanced back at her, surprised, and she laughed again, weak but genuine.
"Oh, your father made a mistake."
Her eyes gleamed with mischief despite the fever in them. "Aelor looked at you, this red, furious little creature screaming at the world, and declared, 'He will unite kingdoms.'"
Her smile widened.
"You bit the midwife."
He flushed. " I was a baby."
"You bit her twice."
He tried not to smile and failed.
"You are not Jaehaerys the Conciliator," she went on. "You do not listen before you act.. You do not bend. You do not forgive."
Her thumb brushed the scar along his forearm, a burn he'd earned reaching into a vent no child should have touched.
"You are much like another king, but not completely."
"Maegor."
His stomach tightened.
The name felt heavier than a mountain.
Maegor the cruel. The king who ruled through fire, fear, and blood.
"I am not cruel." He said.
"No," she said at once. " You are not."
"But, you are ruthless their is a difference. If you decide to go after that throne, you will burn and kill anyone or anything that stands in your way, not because you enjoy it, but because it is simply in your way. You have shown that already by taking control of half of the clans." Her expression softened. " The world will not yield to patience and understanding but to ruthless action."
"I am a warrior, I am not as smart as your father was, but I know this. Maegor is needed to take the world, but Jaehaerys is needed to rule it."
"All this time, why didn't you tell me?" he asked.
"Because names have power, and truth came with a choice."
She shifted painfully, then reached beneath her pillow. From it, she drew a small object wrapped in cloth. She pressed it into his hand.
He unwrapped it slowly.
A pendant, a three-headed dragon, warped, and one head melted, as though kissed by flame.
"Your father believed what he wanted, you believe what you want also, but know this. Throne or not, I am proud of the man you have become."
"Jaehaerys," she said, testing it aloud. "My son."
"Whatever you become, do not kneel to fear, not theirs, and certainly not your own."
"When the Dragon's House is broken by its own flame, and crowns melt faster than swords can shatter, the world shall forget the sound of wings."
"The Firelords shall fall to whisper, and treachery, their blood scattered like embers on the wind, and the last of their line shall wander, unthroned."
"Then shall rise the Horned King, born of storm and fury, who wears stolen glory upon a borrowed brow."
"The Stag shall feast while the Dragon sleeps, but antlers crack when winter bites, and thunder fades before the long night."
"From ash and exile shall come two flames, one born of sorrow, one born of stone. Each calls the dragon by a different name."
"They may burn one another to cinders, or bind their fire into one great blaze, yet the world cannot quench them both."
"And one shall bear a crown of memory, named for the king who healed the realm, yet shadowed by the king who drowned it in blood."
"In him shall war the gentle hand and the iron fist, mercy and ruin, law and flame. Two kings shall breathe within one breast."
"If wisdom binds his fury, the broken world shall mend like shattered glass in fire. Roads shall rise where ashes lie, and swords shall sleep beneath his peace."
"But if wrath devours his mercy, the sky shall rain red embers, and kingdoms shall be measured not in fields, but in graves."
"Yet should he wed the two within him, neither lamb nor beast, neither healer nor tyrant, then shall be born a dragon never seen before. A crown of flame the world cannot name."
"For when the Sleeper wakes, and crowns turn to smoke, fire shall remember its true masters. The Dragon does not die. It only waits."
"And when the world believes the flame is ash, and children mock the songs of scale and sky, the earth shall stir beneath forgotten mountains."
"Stone shall sweat, and caverns breathe, the deep places shall glow like waking eyes, and iron shall soften in men's trembling hands."
"The seas shall boil where shadows pass, the winds shall carry thunder without storm, and shepherds shall count bones instead of sheep."
"Then shall the old dread rise again, not hatched alone in eastern fire, but waking where the world thought none remained."
"Three shall cry to heaven, one shall answer from near the grave, and the sky shall learn once more to fear."
"That is the prophecy of Ash, Crowns, and the Two Dragons. Believe it if you want, and forget it if you want; no one knows how it came about, but it at least speaks of some truth."
For once, he couldn't hide the shock on his face as he looked at his mother.
"Hahaha, seems like I finally got to rattle you before I go," she says, paler and weaker than before she recited the prophecy. Her time was quickly approaching.
"Make sure to bury me on a cliff, so I can feel the sea breeze."
He sat there holding her hand as she slowly slipped away, as tears dripped down his face.
A constant for the past nineteen years was now gone, he wanted to scream, but couldn't; she had raised a strong man, grief was fine, a few tears were expected, anything more and it would disappoint her.
Outside, the wind quieted.
He sat there long after her hand for the very first time became cold, as he clenched his fist around the pendant, as it cut into his palm.