Chapter Text
Robert’s answer to the Targaryen looking girl’s question had surprised even himself. Robert may never have truly hated his Targaryen cousins, but that certainly didn’t mean that he’d been overly fond of the silver haired maniacs. That pretty-boy Rhaegar had certainly driven him up the wall on multiple occasions, particularly when all the ladies, highborn and bastard alike had been tripping over themselves in a race to open their legs for the sullen prick.
“My grandmother was a Targaryen. Aerys was a madman, but his sister wife was just another victim of his madness. Like the Starks. Rhaegar was a fool with his head in the clouds, but his children weren’t to blame for his madness. When they were brought before me…gods. It was bloody as anything, but I’d already agreed to wed Cersei in payment for The Lannister’s actions in helping us take the capital. I had to go along with it. Dragonspawn not babes I said. Then what Stannis did to that boy…” Robert shook his head.
“There was a girl. Sent to live with her ancient soulmate at the wall. I’ve no heirs any more. Only Stannis, his poor girl. And Renly. We’ll not be getting any heirs from him.”
“Do you think the girl might make a good heir?” She spoke softly.
“I’ve not met her lass. Mayhaps. Or mayhaps she’s as mad as her father.”
He drank from his cup and didn’t see as Dany’s eyes hardened, decided on a madness.
“My name is Dany, your Grace”
“A boys name.”
“It’s short for Daenerys. Of House Targaryen.”
His eyes snapped to hers.
“You’re married to Ned’s boy.”
“I am.”
Robert laughed a booming chortle. The gods did have a sense of humour. Where his wife had failed him, his soulmate had provided an heir.
“Well. Little Princess. Perhaps we might talk to your goodfather. He always was mad at me for the Targaryen children.”
He raised himself up, and walked off to Ned’s solar, booming with laughter all the way.
He burst in, the Targaryen girl trotting behind him.
“Ned!” Ned and his wife turned.
“Your Grace.” Ned said and Robert frowned.
“Robert!” He shouted. “Come now. Look who I’ve found. A Targaryen princess right here in Winterfell!”
Ned paled, white as the snow. He still looked fucking pretty the bastard.
“Robert, please. She’s just got some Lyseni blood in her that’s all.”
Robert waved his hand. “Don’t look so fucking stressed Ned, I’m not going to kill her. The way you’re acting you’d think she was wed to her soulmate. What is he, Rhaegar and Lyanna’s get?”
Robert chortled. Lady Stark grew pale. Ned threw up.
Robert’s eyebrows reached his hairline.
“Really?” He asked in shock.
“He’s just a boy Robert. Lyanna’s boy. Please, if you ever cared for me, for Lyanna, please. I beg you, as my soulmate, spare him.”
Lady Stark’s eyes snapped to her husband, and Robert’s grew wide as plates as Ned fell to his knees.
“I never told you that.” Robert whispered.
“I know you have a deadname Robert, but yours is the only name remaining to me. Please. Please spare my nephew and his wife. Lyanna’s son. He has her look Robert. Please.”
The only thing Robert could hear was static. He fell to his knees, grabbing Ned’s face in his hands.
“I’ve no deadname Ned. Never have done.”
He ripped the covering off his arm.
“Look. You’re mine Ned. My only soulmate. Always have been.”
And they stared at each other, and Catelyn Stark fled, trying to keep the tears at bay.
Dany ducked out of the room. It was too private, and there was no danger to her from Robert.
Less than a week later, Daenerys Targaryen was proclaimed Princess of Dragonstone. Her husband, a legitimised Stark, as Prince Consort.
They’d leave for Dragonstone a year later, waking dragons from stone only moons after that.
Robert wouldn’t leave his soulmate’s side, so for the remainder of his reign the Northern Capital would remain. The Princess of Dragonstone and her consort would travel between Dragonstone and the Red Keep frequently, as their forbearers had done for centuries.
In 300 AC the firstborn son of Daenerys, Princess of Dragonstone and Prince Jon Stark was born. Silver haired and purple eyed, the young Viserys Targaryen hatched his egg in the cradle, and slept blissfully unaware as the dead gathered beyond the wall.
War was coming for Westeros. A united Westeros. A Westeros with dragons.