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    Summary

    It was painful, but only at first, then it was peaceful, even when armored men and unfamiliar Targaryens poured forth to gawk at her. They all wore unfamiliar faces, and looked on with unknowing eyes. Had this been what Rhaenyra had felt in those last moments, as she stared into the maw of Sunfyre and was only watched by the twisted snears of those who hated her?

    She let her head slip back and the sunset had the shimmer of Syrax's scales and with her final breath gave a soft dracrarys and imagined the dragon's mouth pouring forth fire to cleanse her clean. She was the Mad Queen of Megor's Holdfast, and she would not give them the satisfaction. Red, red, red staining the bark so that one couldn't distinguish the leaves from the roots.

    Then with a painful jerk, as if she were ripped free from her skin, she woke with a shout.

    Series
    Language:
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