Chapter Text
Rhaenyra
Rhaenyra woke screaming. Pain rushed through her body as the scorching flames consumed her. Agonizing, horrible pain engulfed everything she ever was or wanted to be. Not just the flames, but her anger, her fear, her grief. It tore through her. “Dragons are a power men should never have trifled with.” Her father’s words rang clear through her head, mocking her as the very thing she had always coveted destroyed her.
She stayed still as the pain and torment eventually began to fade. She stayed still as she blinked away the image of her son, Aegon, screaming for his mother as he tried to run to her. She stayed still as she realized she felt very much alive. Alive and comfortable of all things. Was this the afterlife? The seven heavens or some such?
“Princess!” Doors slammed open as a horrified voice interrupted her thoughts. She jolted so hard she fell off whatever she had been lying on. “Princess! Are you alright!? I heard screaming!” She barely had time to realize she was on the ground before a man was gently but quickly pulling her to her feet.
She blinked at the figure, taking in his balding head, kind but worried eyes, shining white armor, and- “Ser Harold?” She hadn’t seen him in many years. Too many years. He shouldn’t still be alive. Neither should she.
“Yes, I’m right here Princess. Are you alright?” Rhaenyra finally looked around at her surroundings. She was in the Red Keep again, but not the Hightowers Red Keep. No, this was the home she remembered from all those years ago. This was her bedroom. The Princess’s Sweet. She shouldn’t be here.
“Princess? Please answer me.” She met his eyes again. Those sweet, kind eyes that never failed to protect her from harm.
“Where are we?” She asked him in a whisper. Were all her dead in this place? Were her children here? Her father? Her mother? Daemon? She needed to see them again.
Harold’s face scrunched in confusion. “We are in your room Princess.” He put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Are you feeling alright? You feel a tad warm. Maybe I should summon a Maester.”
She could only look at him in confusion. What was going on? She had to be dead. “No, I- Ser Harold?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“Am I dead?” She whispered even quieter.
“Dead? No, Princess. You are alive and well.” When she didn’t respond, Ser Harold gently squeezed her shoulder and made her meet his gaze. “You are alive, Princess. Today is the tourney to celebrate your new brother, as your father says. Have you begun to dream? Your father would want to know.”
His eyes- they were so alive, so full of concern and love. This was real. She was alive. She had somehow survived. But no, she didn’t survive. This was no longer her home; this was no longer her time. This was the start. The start of everything. House Targaryen’s downfall started on this day. The day her brother was born, and her mother’s life was ended. Could she have been sent back? Had the Gods sent her back to fix things? She was the blood of Old Valyria; she didn’t pretend to understand the magic that coursed through her own veins. But if her assumptions were correct, this was a chance to fix everything.
“I did dream, Ser. I need to speak to my father at once.”
Rhaenyra
She walked through the halls more as a ghost than anything else. Everything was so familiar yet so far away. She missed this. She missed her home.
Her father was bright and happy when she entered his chambers. Her eyes welled up just seeing him. He was healthy. Alive. For years he had barely been able to walk, and here he was, rushing towards her at the sight of her tears.
“Rhaenyra! My darling girl! Whatever is the matter my dear?” His face creased with worry.
She had to find the courage to speak to him without completely falling apart. “Father.” She let that world settle before she continued. “Father, I’ve had a dream. Not a normal dream. A dream as you have had, as Daenys once had.”
His gaped at her, and then lit up. “Wonderful! I’d always hoped you would dream as I do. No one understands my ramblings or what it feels like to know the future. We must discuss immediately! What did you dream about, dear?”
She smiled sadly at his enthusiasm. “This was not a good dream father. It was horrible. It was- It was the downfall of our house.”
His brows furrowed, “Are you positive this was not a regular dream. I have dreamt of the prosperity of House Targaryen. I know good days are to come.”
“There will be good days father. You will have your son one day. But this son- he leads to more tragedy and death than you could possibly imagine.”
He shook his head, “No. Not my son. Not Aemma’s son.”
A tear fell down her cheek before she could stop it. Viserys reached to wipe it away. He stroked her face reassuringly. “You are correct again father. My mother’s son will not be this villain. He will be the son of another woman. A girl you already know.”
His face hardened. “Rhaenyra, now I know this dream is a falsehood. I would never be unfaithful to your mother. You must know that.”
More tears fell, but this time Viserys did not wipe them away. “I know that. Father,” she took a deep breath, “Mother will die today. And so will the babe in her belly. You will be forced to remarry. And your children with Alicent Hightower will destroy us all.”
He was silent for a long while. And then, “You had a nightmare, Rhaenyra. That is all. I’m sorry this has plagued you, but tis not the dream of Daenys.” He walked away from her, back to his books and his models.
She grabbed his arm before he could sit, “I can prove it father. I can prove this is real. Mere days from now, you would have told me of Aegon’s dream. The Song of Ice and Fire.” His eyes snapped to hers; the intensity in her eyes didn’t let him go. This was not the look someone of five and ten was able to give. This was the look of a woman grown who had suffered so much tragedy, she could hardly hold on to herself. He could see that, she knew he could. And he looked frightened. “Of why he conquered Westeros. Of the threat of the darkness and cold from the north. Of the prophecy. Of a ruler to unite the seven kingdoms to defeat this.” Her fingers were digging into his skin, but he did not pull away.
“You truly did dream of the future?” He asked, almost breathless.
She couldn’t pretend, she couldn’t lie to him. “No. I did not dream it father. I lived it. Do not ask me how or why I am back in this time, in front of you, for I cannot give you an answer. I am just as confused and scared as you, but I’ve been here once before. I’ve lived a lifetime. I’ve married. I’ve had children.” Her voice broke on the word. “I’ve fought for you, for your wishes. And I’ve lost everything. I lost everything father. And me and the world burned for it.”
They stared at each other, neither daring to move. “This is madness, Rhaenyra. Yet, my heart is telling me you speak the truth. Maybe we are both mad. Maybe…”
She cut him off, “It is madness. I should not be here. But the Valyrian Gods have wished upon me to fix this mess, and I shall, but I need your help.”
His face changed then. His look of confusion and shock turned to one of understanding and sadness. “You do not speak like my daughter of five and ten. You have a wisdom that a young girl could not have. Especially one as stubborn and willful as my daughter.”
She finally let go of his arm, leaving crescent moon cuts on his skin, and a trickle of blood down the length. “I have not been that young girl in a long time, father. Not since you married Alicent Hightower.”
He shook his head in disbelief, “Alicent of all people? How did that come to be? I have no such affection for her.”
“You didn’t. Not until Otto took advantage of your grief and loneliness. He is a poison, father. He sent Alicent to you in hopes of getting his blood on the throne. It worked. You named me heir after mother died. But against your wishes, he pushed his grandson on the throne. Alicent- she turned into something unrecognizable. She taught her children to hate me, to despise me. Her children-” Her voice hardened. “Her children killed mine. All of them but one.” She started to gasp for breath. Her boys. Her Visenya. How could she do this without them?
Viserys stood and pulled his daughter into his arms. “My girl. I am so sorry you have suffered this horribly. There is no worse pain than losing a child. Your mother and I would know better than most. How many did you have.”
“Six.”
He gaped at her. “Six children? You were truly blessed.”
“Yes. I was. Five boys, father. One named Viserys in your honor. And one girl. My darling girl didn’t make it past childbirth. I almost didn’t either.”
“Viserys.” He whispered. “A name fit for a king.”
She was crying fully now, “Yes. He was lovely. He was sweet. He was- He looked just like his father.”
His hands cradled her head as she cried into his chest. “And who might that be?”
She pulled away to look him in the eyes. “You won’t like the answer, father.”
He sighed, “Did you run away with a commoner? I swear you’ve always done things just to spite me.”
“If you truly believe that, then you know who I married.”
His eyes widened, “Daemon.” A statement, not a question. She nodded. “I never get my way with anything, do I?”
She couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her lips. “We were neither’s first betrothed. I married Laenor Velaryon to appease you. My first three boys were his. After Lady Rhea Royce passed, Daemon married Laena to appease Lord Corlys, although I believe they found love with one another. They had two daughters. After both Laenor and Laena had died, Daemon and I married for love. Well that, and to strengthen my claim against the Hightowers. I know he is a difficult man. Trust me father, I know more than anyone. But he loves me.” She refused to use the past- tense word. “And I love him. We are both made of fire, and we were born to rule together. Our eldest son, Aegon, he outlived both of us. He is our legacy.”
He nodded. He was obviously unhappy with the union but even he could not deny the connection Rhaenyra and her uncle have. “Daemon- he passed as well?”
All Rhaenyra could do was nod. She blamed herself for it was her fault. She led him to the decisions he made. She lost faith in him. She killed him.
“How old are you Rhaenyra?”
She could lie, but what would that do other than offer him the smallest amount of comfort? No, if things were going to change, she had to be honest. “I am three and thirty, father.”
He took in a deep breathe. “Three and thirty.” He whispered. “Far too young to have met your end.” He took her face in his hands, “Whatever happens next, we will fix it together Rhaenyra. I will not let this future happen again.”
“Thank you, father. Thank you for trusting me.”
“Always, my girl, always.” He kissed her on the forehead. “If today is truly your mother’s last day, shall we spend the rest of it with her?”
“Yes,” she said before she could even process. Her mother. It had been so long. She craved her mother’s voice, her touch, her love. “Let’s go to mother. After, we can worry about everything else.”