Chapter Text
It was a rainy day in Cáceres. The city, with its medieval charm, had been transformed into King's Landing for the filming of House of the Dragon. After an intense week of filming, the crew had decided to take the day off. Matt Smith, the charismatic actor who played the always scandalous Daemon Targaryen, had just woken up in his hotel room, an elegant place with a picture-postcard view of the city.
Dishevelled, yawning and still in his pyjamas, Matt went straight to the kitchen of the small apartment to make himself a coffee. As the coffee machine worked its magic, he hummed enthusiastically to himself to a tune he couldn't identify, but which sounded suspiciously like the theme to Doctor Who. With his long-awaited cup of coffee in hand, he was about to enjoy his good morning when a sharp noise made him spin around. Something had fallen on his bed.
"What the hell?" he muttered in the raspy voice of someone who has not yet fully recovered his morning humanity.
With cautious steps, he approached the bedroom, convinced that a clueless bird, or perhaps one of those obsessed fans, had found a way to sneak in. But the reality was much more extravagant. There, among the disordered sheets, was a kid.
Yes, a kid.
He couldn't have been more than two years old, with beautiful silver hair and huge, curious lilac eyes. He was wearing clothes that looked like they had come straight from the set of the series: velvet, embroidery, and a brocade with the iconic Targaryen three-headed dragon on the back. When he saw Matt, he gave him a smile so big that Matt felt an internal ‘pop!’
‘Dad!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically, stretching out his little arms towards him.
Matt, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, almost spat it out.
‘Dad?’ he repeated, between laughs, setting the cup down on the nearest table. "OK, this is great. Who planned it? Where are the cameras? Come out now, you jokers, you've really outdone yourselves with this one!"
Matt waited for someone to come out from behind the door with a camera or at least an explanation. But there was no reply. Only the kid, who kept looking at him as if he really believed that he, Matt Smith, was his father. Matt crossed his arms, trying to unravel the mystery. Could he be a child actor from the shoot? Had someone left him there as part of some strange joke?
After a few minutes with no one appearing, the kid pouted. His lips trembled and his eyes began to fill with tears.
"No, no, no. Not that!" said Matt, raising his hands as if he could stop the emotional tragedy in the making. But the damage was already done: the kid burst into tears with the intensity of a hungry dragon.
"It's okay, it's okay! Please don't cry!" exclaimed Matt, who had already gone into panic mode. He lifted the child with the delicacy of someone handling a time bomb, vaguely remembering how his friends calmed their children. He tried to swing him a little.
"It's okay, it's okay... I don't know who you are, but calm down, okay? Dad... I mean, Matt is here."
To his surprise, it worked. The kid calmed down, resting his little head on his shoulder and sighing as if it were the safest place in the world. Matt, on the other hand, was still trying not to hyperventilate as he processed the scene.
"This can't be real..." the actor muttered, inspecting the child in search of some logical explanation. The costume details were impeccable, too authentic to be a coincidence. It was then that he noticed a small necklace hanging from the child's neck, made of a dark metal and with an intricate design. Engraved on it was a name:
Jaehaerys Targaryen.
Matt felt the coffee he had drunk threatening to come back up. As he turned the pendant, he found another inscription even more surreal:
First son of Daemon and Aemond Targaryen.
"Sorry?" Matt dropped his jaw, unable to decide whether to laugh, cry or call security. "Daemon and Aemond? My characters? But they hate each other in the series!"
He slumped down on the bed, still holding the little Targaryen, who now seemed more interested in trying to undo the buttons on his shirt than in explaining how he had got there.
"Nothing, buddy. Looks like today you get to be my plus one." sighed Matt resignedly, as the kid let out a mischievous giggle.
And so began the strangest day of Matt Smith's life: with an iced coffee on the table, a Targaryen baby in his arms, and a question that would haunt him all day: How much will HBO pay him for this mess?
Matt had accepted in record time that he now had a Targaryen child in his room. How had it happened? He had no idea. Why? He didn't know either. Maybe it was the lack of coffee or maybe he had reached that point of exhaustion where your brain decides that questioning things is not profitable. The only thing he was clear about was this: he was not going to hand the little boy over to the authorities. He was Daemon Targaryen's son, that is to say, his character, and if anyone was going to take care of that kid, that someone would be Matt Smith.
The passport thing, the legal documents and all that real-life hassle would be sorted out later.
"What do two-year-olds eat?" he asked into the air as he took out his mobile phone with one hand, the kid hanging from his other arm like a koala. Jaehaerys seemed delighted with his new adoptive father, because now he was happily playing with the hem of his T-shirt. Matt unlocked his mobile phone and started typing into Google: 'what does a two-year-old eat?'
He had barely typed ‘what does it eat’ when urgent knocks on the door startled him.
"God, will someone give me a break!" he whispered, signalling to the child to be quiet. Jaehaerys, on the other hand, let out an excited little cry.
Matt improvised.
"Listen, little boy. We're going to play a game. It's called ‘hide and seek’, okay?" he said with a smile that he tried to make reassuring, while he opened the cupboard and carefully placed the kid between his jackets. "You stay here, very quiet, and Dad... I mean, I'm going to see who's at the door."
The little boy nodded enthusiastically, completely excited by the idea of the game. Matt closed the cupboard door carefully and went to open it.
On the other side was Ewan Mitchell, the actor who played Aemond Targaryen. He had an expression that ranged from disbelieving to desperate, and he was carrying a bundle wrapped in a blanket that he was holding with both hands. Before Matt could say anything, Ewan pushed him inside and slammed the door shut.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Matt exclaimed, raising his hands, confused.
"Is there anyone else here?" Ewan asked nervously, looking around as if expecting an ambush.
"No... Why? And what's that you're carrying?" Matt pointed to the bundle, crossing his arms.
Ewan sighed, ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair (still dyed from the shoot), and held the bundle tighter.
"The weirdest thing happened to me this morning. I don't know how to say it, but I thought you... You could help me." He looked at him with crazy eyes. "Because I think I'm losing my mind."
Matt raised an eyebrow, already sensing disaster.
"It can't be..." he began to say, but Ewan interrupted him, spreading out the blanket with quick movements.
Inside was another child. Another. Kid. Targaryen. Just as adorable, just as silver-haired and lilac-eyed, just as luxuriously dressed with the emblem of House Targaryen. And, of course, just as determined to call Matt 'dad'.
"Dad!" shouted the little boy, stretching out his arms towards him as if it were a film reunion.
Matt looked at the little boy. Then he looked at Ewan. Then he looked back at the kid. Finally, he turned towards the kitchen and muttered to himself:
"Of course, because one wasn't enough."
Ewan, still in a state of panic, looked at him as if he had lost his mind.
"Why are you so calm? This doesn't make any sense!"
Matt sighed, shrugged and walked towards his room. He opened the wardrobe and took out little Jaehaerys, who squealed with excitement at the sight of the other kid. The two little Targaryens looked at each other for a second before bursting into laughter and babbling.
Ewan pointed first at Jaehaerys and then at the new kid.
"What... what is this?"
Matt gave him a wry smile.
"Meet Jaehaerys Targaryen, the first son of Daemon and Aemond Targaryen." He waved his hand as if showing a trophy. "And please tell me that one isn't called Aegon, because that would be ridiculous."
Ewan blinked in disbelief and pointed to the child he was holding.
"Well... This is Valerion Targaryen. The second son."
The two actors exchanged a look, the kind of look you share when your brain can't process what's going on. They let out an incredulous laugh, the kind of laugh that comes when you don't know if you're dreaming or need professional help.
"Okay, this is too much." Matt ran a hand over his face, as if that would reset his life. "Two Targaryen kids. What's next? A dragon?"
Ewan tensed and looked away.
"Well... about that..."
Matt stared at him, with the face of someone deeply regretting having asked that question.
"No. Don't tell me you have a dragon."
Ewan, avoiding his gaze, unfurled the blanket again, and there, curled up like a satisfied puppy, was a little dragon. Its skin shone like sapphire, and when it opened its eyes, they sparkled like vivid topaz.
Matt stood frozen, unable to process what he was seeing. The dragon yawned, revealing a row of tiny but sharp teeth, and let out a little roar so adorable it almost sounded like a meow, almost adorable. But not to Matt.
"This has to be a dream." he muttered. "It's official, I'm crazy! This is a dream, right? I'm going to bed. I'm going back to sleep."
Ewan grabbed him by the arm before he could escape.
"Don't you dare leave me alone with this!"
The dragon didn't seem to agree, because it let out a snort, and a slight trail of smoke came out of its nostrils. Matt pointed at it.
"Does he smoke too? Perfect. Just what we needed."
The two men looked at each other, unsure what to do. Now they had two Targaryen kids and a real dragon in a hotel room in Caceres. It was, without a doubt, the craziest day of their lives.
The day had started with Targaryen children and a miniature dragon, but now Matt Smith was pushing a shopping trolley through the aisles of the Caceres Carrefour, dressed in a grey sweatshirt, sunglasses and a cap that did absolutely nothing to conceal his identity. With a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, he was going over a hastily written list, full of crossings out and existential questions.
When he reached the diaper aisle, Matt stopped in front of the endless shelves, feeling like a tourist lost in a galaxy far, far away.
“What the hell is this?” he muttered, looking at the crowded shelves. He read aloud: "'12 hours of protection,’ ‘ultra-absorbent,’ ‘magical comfort.’ Why are there so many types?! They're diapers, not spaceships!"
Frustrated, he took out his cell phone and called Ewan.
“What is it now?“ he replied, his voice tired.
”Explain this to me. What does 'dynamic fit' mean? And why are there options that seem more advanced than my phone?“ Matt snorted, examining a package with an incredulous look. "We're raising kids, not astronauts."
Ewan sighed on the other end.
”Get the ones with a dragon on the package. The kids will like them.
“They don't sell Targaryen diapers, Ewan. This is Carrefour, not Westeros-Mart.” Matt rolled his eyes and, exhausted, threw a package of each size into the cart. Dodot would be his safe bet. Then he added, “And what are you doing while I'm dealing with this absurd battle against child capitalism?”
“I'm trying to convince the dragon that the cardboard box is a nest. I called him Kiki, by the way.“
Matt blinked, stopping dead in his tracks between the aisle of baby food and cereal.
”Kiki? That's the best you could come up with?“
”The kids chose him. What did you want me to do?” Ewan justified himself, somewhat defensively.
“I'll remind you that those kids think I'm their father and that you are... well, I don't know.“
”Their nanny?“ Ewan suggested sarcastically.
Matt burst out laughing.
”That sounds much better than what I had in mind.”
He hung up and continued his shopping mission. In the shampoo and gel section, he was faced with another avalanche of impossible decisions: 'hypoallergenic', 'atopic skin', 'pH balanced'. Why was even soap so complicated? In the end, he decided that Nenuco would do.
“If it survived my childhood, they'll survive.” he thought.
He then moved on to the clothing section and found a set of dinosaur-print pajamas.
“Perfect. If anyone asks, I'll say I'm looking after two fans obsessed with Jurassic Park.” he muttered, throwing them into the cart without thinking too much about it. Not that anyone was going to inspect his sense of children's fashion when he was dealing with something that was technically interdimensional contraband.
Finally, he arrived at the butcher's and asked for several kilos of fresh meat. The butcher looked at him curiously.
“Barbecue party?” the man asked, as he wrapped up the packages.
“Er... something like that.” Matt smiled awkwardly, pointing to the meat counter to cut the conversation short.
With the trolley full of diapers, shampoos, dinosaur clothes and enough meat to feed a small (and probably illegal) dragon, Matt went through the checkout, ignoring the curious glances of the cashier. How could he explain that he was shopping for two technically non-existent kids and a mythological creature sleeping in a cardboard box?
Back at the hotel, Matt pushed open the door with his foot, carrying several bags. Ewan met him in the hallway, looking equally exhausted.
“Did you get everything?”
Matt handed him a couple of bags as he panted.
"As much as I could. I'm warning you: if these kids have any weird allergies, we're doomed.”
Inside the room, Matt left the bags on the table and looked around for the dragon.
“Where's Kiki?”
Ewan pointed to the cardboard box next to the bed. Inside, the little dragon slept peacefully, emitting soft snorts as a wisp of smoke escaped from his nostrils.
“It was either that or the hotel suitcase.“ Ewan shrugged.
”Well, at least he's asleep.“ Matt looked at the dragon resignedly and turned to start organizing the groceries.
He took out the dinosaur pajamas and held them up in front of Ewan.
”What do you think?"
Ewan raised an eyebrow.
“Dinosaurs. Very Targaryen."
”They couldn't keep dressing as if they'd just come out of House of the Dragon, could they?“ Matt snorted and threw him one of the pyjamas.
Ewan caught it on the fly, and laughed.
”Well, at least they won't stand out so much. How was Carrefour?”
Matt flopped down in a chair, exhausted.
“Three people recognized me. Two asked for photos. Can you imagine that? Photos. In the baby bottle section.”
Ewan laughed out loud, but then he stared at the kids, who were playing with the diaper packages, and at Kiki, who was snoring in her makeshift box.
“You know what the worst part is? The kids are chaos enough. But how are we going to get a passport for a dragon?”
Matt looked at him for a moment, as if he were really considering the question, and then sighed, looking at the ceiling.
“We could say it's an exotic dog. Very, very exotic.”
“A dog?” Ewan laughed, shaking his head. “Matt, it has wings. And it breathes fire!”
“So what? Do you think anyone at the airport is going to bother to check it?” Matt picked up a diaper and studied it as if it were an ancient relic.
The two men looked at each other, silent for a moment, until they couldn't contain it any longer and burst out laughing. The situation was so absurd that laughing was the only logical option.
I will be bringing more new stories, some are finished and others are not. I'm a disaster at writing, I often concentrate on one and then on another. Tell me what you think of this experimental story!