╣fuck cersei╠
Myrcella didn't like King's Landing. There were snakes everywhere and her mother hardly ever treated her with kindness. Nor did her father, who apparently wasn't even her father at all.
She didn't like Winterfell either. Its halls were too cold and grey. Everyone there seemed to be dead or dying, or horribly old.
No, Myrcella did not like King's Landing or Winterfell, so she settled on Riverrun. Her and Lady Catelyn were left behind with a small group of men while Robb Stark, Myrcella's husband, had advanced with his army. He had been furious when Catelyn had let Jaime go, more so than Myrcella had ever seen him. He was distant, but he was kind.
She thought that he would have beat her with the rage that he contained. Robb had left his mother behind as punishment. He had left Myrcella claiming that a war was no place for a queen. Myrcella had tried to argue against him but in the end, Robb had his way and Myrcella was left under the care of Catelyn and her father.
It all turned out to be the best choice anyways for Myrcella swelled with child through the next months.
When she found out, Myrcella thought of how furious her mother would be when she heard the news. That forced a smile out of her at least.
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Rhena's throat felt like sandpaper when she woke. She could hardly bear to swallow and coughed as soon as she did. Steady hands gripped her shoulders and she was lowered back onto the bed where she was resting.
"Hush Rhena" Her mother's voice was calming and Rhena's eyes opened to catch a glimpse of her. "It will be alright." The light around them was bright and Rhena could only make out a figure. "Drink this, you've lost a lot of blood."
"Mother." she mumbled, still trying to see the woman who's face had been long forgotten.
"She's woken up." The voice called to someone else.
Two sets of arms wrapped around her and lifted her to a sitting position. "It will be alright mother." One of them said, voice horse and quiet.
Rhena tried to open her eyes once more and came face to face with her sons. "Tyros, Aryen." Her vision shifted to the other in the room. "Daenerys." She was disappointed that her mind had tricked her sister's voice into her mother's. How she wanted her mother now.
"Rhena." Daenerys sighed, tears visible in her eyes.
"What's happened?" Rhena asked, trying to balance her head on her neck which seemed far weaker than she remembered. Actually, most of her body felt weaker.
Daenerys looked down as her tears started to flow, not willing to meet her sister's eyes which had cleared from ill rest. "I will not repeat myself, what happened?"
It was Aryen who answered, always the more straightforward of the twins. "You were poisoned." He said simply.
"Well yes I gathered that." Rhena said with a bitter laugh. "I was the one who told you to get a healer who knew their way around poisons."
"The poison was moon wine." Rhena froze. "It was for Daenerys, meant to take her child and leave her infertile. The last spite against the Targaryens." Aryen's face was hard as stone. "She would have survived it of course, but without the knowledge of you or us, Cersei would have died with the notion that there would be no more Targaryens after Daenerys."
"But I drank it." A single tear dripped down her nose though she didn't move to whip it. "And..."
"You've bled for the past day." Daenerys answered, eyes darting to a pile of crimson rags in the corner of the tent. Rhena's eyes followed her sister's and her stomach rolled.
That was her child. A whole beginning reduced to little more than a stain to clean. Rhena's ears rang and she was forced to hold down the little breakfast which she had consumed.
"Rhena?" Daenerys called, grabbing onto her sister's elbo in support. "Rhena, can you hear me?"
Rhena's ribs tightened in hopelessness; at the loss of a future which she didn't truly want. For the names she had picked out already, for the hope of a girl whom she could teach. "Leave me." She whispered. "Please."
Aryen and Tyros exchanged glances. "Mother-" They both started.
"Please, my loves." She begged, struggling to keep her voice kind. "I will join you later." The three Targaryens, knowing when to leave their senior in peace, quitted the room, and left their sister and mother to grieve on her own. Not moments after they left, Rhena caved around herself and folded into a ball of sorrow.
It could have been minutes, hours, or even days before another soul entered the tent. Strong arms wrapped around her and she was drowned in the smell of salt and leather, so alike yet so different to her Jaime.
"Gods Rhe." Callan whispered against her hair. "It's alright. I've got you." He rocked her back and forth atop the stiff mattress of the healing tent. "You'll be alright."
Rhena cried until the sun set and the candles were lit. Callan kept her secure against his chest, giving her time to grieve. "I was going to name it after your mother." Rhena admitted when her eyes had dried and any notions of happiness were gone. Callan cried in her stead after that.
Hours later when the night had stilled and grief had ebbed into shock, Rhena opened her puffy eyes. "Callan?" She asked.
"Mmh?" His voice was thick with exhaustion and she almost felt guilty for dragging him through such an endeavor.
"What are those?" Their collective attention focused on a black chest, open and full of stones.
Callan's face screwed up in confusion before it morphed into recognition. "Daenerys left them for you. She said that they'd help you gain your strength."
Rhena eased her way into a sitting position; Callan's hands supported her. "Rocks?" She asked, gaining more control over her movements and sight. "She's brought me rocks to recover from a misscarriage?"
Callan flinched at her deadpan voice and swung his legs over the side of the cot. "Take a closer look." Rhena faltered when he rose, but regained her balance when he sent a look of concern.
"I can manage." She assured him, frustrated by her weakened state. Callan resumed his original path and hefted the large trunk to her bedside. As he approached, Rhena was able to see in greater detail.
"Eggs." she breathed. "Dragon eggs." Rhena focused all of her strength on getting a better look. "How?" Her hands gravitated towards a milky white one, centered with a black one out of the four.
"They were a wedding gift for Daenerys. Long frozen in time, I fear only Aegon's dragon could bring them to life." Rhena hardly heard his response as she lifted the large egg from its casing. Her heart tugged against her chest when she held the shell close to her and she smiled when she noticed the golden edges of each scale.
"They are a great comfort." Rhena said, eyes wandering over the rest. One of them was a deep green, another as yellow as the setting sun, and the last, black and red to match her house colors. "I'll have to thank Daenerys when I see her again."
Callan sat next to her and joined her appraisal of her sister's gifts. "They are beautiful. There is one for each of you."
"For each Targaryen." Rhena nodded in approval. "Oh I do hate when destiny throws something so obvious in my face." Callan looked to her in question. Rhena met his gaze and smiled. "I like to figure it all out by my own trials." Callan smiled with her, glad that some of her happy self was showing already.
The Dothraki did not bury their dead, as Rhena's people did across the sea. The bones of their fathers and mothers were not preserved in a crypt or returned to the earth. They were burned until the dust of their very bones were scattered to the winds to take refuge in the heavens. Daenerys explained how it was shameful to not go through with the ceremony. She told Rhena how the Dothraki believed that if one's body was never burned, their soul could never be free to ride with their ancestors in the Night Lands. Rhena wondered if her child would be accepted for it was only a pile of cloth splattered with dried blood.
The funeral pyre was large for someone so small and Rhena gazed up at the top, contemplating what to do next. The cloth was already laid and night was falling quickly. She stood between Drogo and Daenerys, each offering their support in the ways that each could. Drogo had merely clasped her arm in his and nodded. Rhena Supposed that was as far as he would take it.
Daenerys, however, hardly left her alone to breathe. Her own pregnancy was starting to weigh on her, and much like Rhaella, Daenerys had trouble staying on her feet for long periods of time. She would be in the birthing bed before the end of the harvest.
The Dothraki surrounded them by the hundred fold, paying their respects to a life lost. "Rhena." Daenerys whispered when the crowd had settled into a gentle roar. "I would like to offer you these." Daenerys gestured to the left where one of Drogo's blood riders held the chest of eggs. "You're the eldest Targaryen, they are yours by right."
Rhena swallowed. "No Daenerys," She started, "They were gifted to you, I can't-"
"And now I am gifting them to you." Daenerys cut her off, reaching in to gently lift the same one which Rhena herself had cradled the night prior. "Please."
Rhena gazed at her sister, amazed at her kindness even after the shit which she had been dragged through by Viserys. "Thank you my love." Rhena nodded before accepting the egg.
"What shall you do with them mother?" Aryen asked from behind her. Rhena turned to her sons who stood beside Callan, all with matching frowns etched upon their brows. She then turned back to the pyre.
"Pick one." She ordered her sons. "Both of you. Whichever calls to you the most. You as well, sweet sister." The boys hesitated only a moment before they were advancing on the chest, eager to claim their gift.
Daenerys was the closest and her eyes passed over the remaining eggs carefully. Her hands traced each shell before they landed on black and red. "I suppose the Targaryen colors suit me more than the boys." It was true, she even looked more Targaryen than her Lannister nephews.
Aryen, always one to jump into things without thinking, picked the green egg which matched his eyes, almost without thinking. "Thank you mother." He said before backing away.
Tyros was last and therefore, didn't have to choose which egg would belong to him. The yellow of the shell matched his golden strung hair. "Thank you mother."
Rhena glanced at what was left of her family, wishing that her mother and Rhaegar were there. Even Jaime, who she was ashamed to still love. "Follow me." She turned on her heel and moved toward the funeral pyre. Her sons and sister were quick to follow.
Rhena placed her egg down gently and next to one of the four pillars which held up the structure. Tyros, Aryen, and Daenerys did the same, following Rhena's lead. The Dothraki watched them in curiosity, not truly understanding the importance of the dragon eggs
A torch was handed to Rhena by a nameless Dothraki and Callan approached her with one of his own. They nodded sadly to one another, sorry for the loss which they bore. "Fuck Cersei." She said simply before casting the torch down to the flammable twigs.
"Fuck Cersei." Callan agreed before tossing his torch down next to hers. The flame spread rapidly over the dry twigs. He backed up when the heat became unbearable, but Rhena stayed, gazing up to where the pyre ended.
She turned back around after a moment and locked eyes with her sister, then her sons. Without a word, she faced the flames and walked towards them, letting them envelope her body. The fire licked at her heels, arms and face, but it did not burn her, did not melt her flesh and char her bones as it would a normal man or woman. She was of dragon's blood, a true Targaryen, and she was surrounded by that in which her ancestors relished.
The Targaryen princess continued deeper into the flames and crouched down under the largest part. Her light flowing dress was consumed by the fire and slowly faded from her body, leaving her in nothing but her skin and the soot and ash that was being released into the air. The woman curled up in a ball and wept, though the tears were quickly dried by the scorching orange around her. She wept for all she lost, all she never had, and of the bleak future before her. The yellow flame entranced her and she gathered her chosen egg to her chest.
A cracking caught her attention and she was met with Daenerys, Tyros, and Aryen. All looking down at her through the flames. Their clothes were burnt to ash, as hers were and they knelt next to her, eggs secure in their grasp. Rhena couldn't make out any sound from beyond the roaring fire, and laid her head on Daenerys' shoulder, seeking comfort in her sister's touch.
It was morning when the fire finally died. Most of the lingering Dothraki were asleep on the dirt, waiting to see if the Targaryen family would emerge from the ashes, or if their lives were wasted like so many before them. Drogo was pacing; he had been since his wife had broken from his side to follow her sister into the flames. Ned had dozed off hours ago and Callan was close to the same. They both knew that Rhena would be fine in the fire. They knew she would return.
The first light of the sun had hardly brushed the dirt which they stood on when Rhena and her kin rose.
All with dragons against their breasts.
Callan stood without warning and woke poor Ned who was leaning on him. Jorah stood from his slouch as well and gazed upon the Targaryens in wonder. The dragons were small and hardly larger than each hand which held them, but they were dragons still. Born with the promise of chaos and power.
Rhena's eyes gazed over the crowd which was beginning to rise, all in awe of the miracle which she and her family had created. "Will you translate for me?" Rhena asked Daenerys. She really needed to get used to speaking Dothraki. Her sister nodded and leaned into the gentle nips from the dragon which was curled along her pregnant belly.
Rhena stepped forward, not at all caring for her naked state. "Blood of my blood!" she called out, Daenerys following in Dothraki. "A great offense has been made against me, against Daenerys, against my family." She paused and looked to Callan for support. He nodded and smiled reassuringly. "This offense was delivered by the very same people who stole my father's country and exiled my sister and I. Will you help me crush them?" Her voice was strong and it fed the Dothraki people, brought together by a Khal and the wishes of his wife and good sister. "Will you give me the Seven Kingdoms?" The Dothraki cheered at the thought of a quest which would lead to eventual bloodshed.
Rhena smiled and squared her shoulders. Cersei didn't know what was coming for her.
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Joffrey sneered from his place on the Iron Throne, his constant seat since he had been crowned. A man covered in dirt and sweat stood before him, cowering beneath the Lannister. "Why did you not complete your task?" the boy-king asked with a tilt to his head, face melting into a false smile. Cersei sat next to him in a chair, watching the man with disdain.
"Your grace, I-I" The man gulped. "I-I"
"Oh spit it out we don't have all day." Cersei sighed.
The man whimpered. "I did your grace." His voice was small and was almost swallowed by the spacious room. "I gave it to the silver headed girl. P-p-p-promise." Tears were streaming down his face and Joffrey rolled his eyes.
"Then why do I hear whispers of dragons from across the sea. Why is it that my spies tell me that Daenerys Targaryen is still alive and with child-close to the birthing bed, I may add." Joffrey saw red as he shouted at the assassin who had been reduced to tears.
The man gasped and gulped again like a fish. "Perhaps I gave it to the wrong one." He whispered.
"What was that?" Joffrey asked, cupping his hand on his ear. "Sorry I couldn't quite hear you over the disappointment which you have brought me."
"There was another." The man said, more sure this time. "She had silver hair, she was sitting at Khal Drogo's side. They called her Rhena." Cersei stiffened in her seat and glared down at the man. "Yes, yes they did." He continued, not realizing the effect that he had made over the dowager queen. "I didn't listen because I was trying to get out of that savage city as soon as I could, but now that I think of it..." He looked up at the king. "They called out the name Rhena, not Daenerys when she fell."
Cersei's hands tightened on the arms of her chair. Rhena Targaryen was supposed to be dead. She was supposed to be in her family crypts at Casterly.
"Take him away." She growled at the red cloaks who spanned along the edge of the room. "I want him gone." Cersei stood as the man exited and paced the span of the stairs which the throne was sat upon.
Joffrey watched as she made her way, back and forth, back and forth. "Mother," he started, "I don't understand. Rhena Targaryen died at the end of father's rebellion. Her and her son." He blinked. "How can she be alive now."
"Because she faked her death." Cersei said, mind made up. "She faked her death and most likely her son's. His body was never recovered, lost at sea, Ha!" She shook her head. "How else would Daenerys or Viserys survive?" She stopped. "Who knows if there are other Targaryens alive. Is Lyanna Stark alive?"
She paused before looking back at her son. "She doesn't know what we have in store for her." Cersei smiled at her son.
Sooo i forgot about my myrcella story which was supposed to be written like four chapters ago so here she is. Enjoy!