Rhaenyra stood in front of the heart tree in the Godswood, her mother was dead, her brother was dead, Daemon was banished, she felt so alone. Her father was deep in his grief and only came out of it to heap responsibilities on her shoulders.
Tomorrow she would be named Heir to the throne, she didn't know if she wanted it but she knew it was her duty to take it, she just hoped it didn't kill her like it has so many in their family.
She believed her father, she believed in the song of ice and fire, of the prince that was promised and that he would come from their blood.
She could feel that it was true from the moment she had heard it. Her blood had sung as soon as the knowledge had been given to her and it was singing now, lulling her into a trance as she stepped forward toward the heart three.
She met the bleeding eyes of the Weirwood before bringing her hand to the bark, something was begging her to touch the face, a siren call that she was powerless to deny.
Her very blood felt like fire as she finally touched the face, her fingers barely brushed the wood as she let out a gasp, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she fell to the ground.
Wrapped up in the roots of the Weirwood tree her soul was combined, memories of a life not lived being gifted to her. The memories sank their way through her like fire coursing through her veins, the magic in her blood being awakened by the gods themselves.
She lay there alone in the godswood as her old self was erased and in its place a queen. For how can she remember her life without being forever changed, the young innocent girl that was frivolous and reckless was gone, replaced by a hardened woman who had lost too much and refused to lose anything else.
Rhaenyra closed her eyes a girl and opened them a queen, a mother, a warrior, a survivor.
Her eyes flew open as she searched the Godswood for Sunfrye, the dragon who had been the last thing she saw. Aegon’s laughter the last thing she heard, in front of her son no less! Her last living son. The wound still felt fresh.
Rhaenyra Looked around herself confused, this wasn’t Dragonstone. She was in Kings Landing, when had she gotten here?
Just like that she remembered going to the Godswood, she hadn’t done that before, She felt new memories and old all slot together and combine into one. She feels the pain of her mother's death like a fresh wound but also a dull ache of the long-ago memory, it was confusing, disorienting.
Rhaenyra shook her head as she got to her feet, she looked down at herself and froze seeing the young maiden she once was, is, she felt so confused as she finally walked back towards the castle.
She stumbled her way back into the castle only to find Ser Harrold Westerling, the commander of her father's king's guard “Are you alright princess?” he asked concerned, seeing her so wrongfooted.
She shook her head but she couldn’t help but stare, he was so young, she hadn’t seen him this young in years, she hadn’t seen him in years.
“I’m fine Ser. Please take me to my father, I have to speak with him” she said as she put a hand to her head, fighting the pounding that had begun as memories flashed before her eyes.
Ser Harrold Westerling looked at her doubtfully “The king might not want to be disturbed princess” he said, something hidden in his tone.
