This is literally the longest chapter I have written in my life and it took almost four days for me to write. I hope you guys like it and I would really appreciate if I saw more comments and votes on this chapter and many more to come, for I am really excited about this book and for what I have in store for it.
Also, please do read the author's note in the end, we need to discuss something important.
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⇠ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ - 1 ⇢
" ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒᵈᵈᵉˢˢ "
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[The screen slowly lit up with the sound of footsteps echoing in the room and sounds of childlike giggles and laughter.]
Woman: ELARAENA, VAELOR, STOP RIGHT THERE.
[The scene unfolded as the camera panned down a long corridor, lined with knights guarding at attention. Amidst the solemnity, two young children, a boy and girl in their nightwear dashed past, their laughter echoing through the stone walls, their flowing silver locks a blur in the air.
[The guards, unable to suppress their smiles, watched amusedly as the children raced by. Following closely behind, a woman adorned in a regal purple gown, her own silver hair streaming behind her, chased after the playful duo until she finally caught up to them.]
The ancestors focused on the screen in silence while the people from before the rebellion were confused and apprehensive. 'Elaraena? Vaelor? And who is this woman? What is she doing in the red keep?
Whereas, the people from after the rebellion froze in fear. Was that her?
Woman: Stop you both, it's time for you to go to bed, Where are you both going?
[As the woman gently turned the children, her back still to the screen, it became evident that they were truly a sight to behold. The young pair exuded an undeniable charm, their golden-silver locks tousled from their playful sprint down the corridor.
[With large purple eyes gleaming, their pale skin flushed and rosy cheeks, the children appeared positively angelic. The girl wore a small pout, crossing her arms and fixing the woman with a glare from her deep purple doe eyes, while her slightly taller brother simply sighed, resigned to the situation.]
Everyone looked at the screen in awe. The children were beautiful, the people from after the rebellion were shocked, 'so the tales about the inhumane beauty of Targaryen's is true,' they thought.
Cersei looked at the children on the screen in longing and contempt. If only, if only she could have succeeded in marrying Rhaegar than she would have also given birth to such beautiful children but no, first the Dornish whore and then the Stark bitch had taken him from her and she was stuck with this good for nothing, fat, manwhore of a man.
She threw a hateful glare at the young Robert, Lyanna and Elia's ways before turning to look towards an awestruck Rhaegar obsessively.
"So adorable..." whispered Rhaenyra, her eyes especially on the little girl and they turned misty remembering about the fate of her Visenya and she threw a dark glare at the Green's way.
"The children have inherited the blood of Old Valyria, the true Valyrian beauty." whispered Daemon softly.
"You have no place to talk about children..." a voice echoed in the room and all eyes turned to see Helaena Targaryen, glaring at Daemon murderously and for the first time many were scared.
She resembled a dragon who was ready to breath fire and it made many shiver at the rage in her eyes accompanied with the deep anguish, as Daemon and her stared each other down.
"Hela-"
"It was not just you Rhaenyra, blood for blood, son for son..." She spat out the last three words, her eyes still locked with those of Daemon's as Rhaenyra's face crumbled in that of pain.
Others in the room felt the tension rise, the air thick with animosity. Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron exchanged glares with the Blacks, mirroring their hostility.
Everyone who understood what was going on, held their breath and stared at Daemon, who appeared blank, no emotion on his face while Helaena had taken a deep breath and closed her eyes once again before re-opening them and ignoring everyone's looks and simply turned back towards the screen.
Woman: (chuckled and inquired gently) What is it Rae?
Elaraena: We do not want to sleep, Muña, we want to know more about the Goddess. We are going to grand mother's chambers, so we can hear more stories about our Goddess.
'Goddess? Who?', was the only thought on everyone's mind.
[The boy simply nodded his head, agreeing with his sister. With a gentle chuckle, the woman hummed softly before rising to her feet, extending her hands to her children who eagerly grasped them. As she turned around, her ethereal beauty was fully revealed.]
[Her hair, a stunning blend of gold and silver, cascaded down to her waist, framing her delicate features. Her skin, as pale as her children's, bore rosy cheeks that added a touch of warmth to her countenance.
[But it was her eyes that truly captivated, a mesmerizing shade of lilac that seemed to hold the secrets of the cosmos. A small, serene smile graced her red lips, completing the image of a true Valyrian, a divine being walking among mortals. The knights all bowed at once as the trio walked by...]
Mouths hung agape, and eyes widened in sheer astonishment.
"A true Valyrian..." Jaeherys the Second whispered in reverent awe.
"She's breathtaking," Bran murmured to his mother, Catelyn, who nodded in silent agreement, her gaze fixed on the ethereal beauty before them. While it was well-known that Valyrians, especially the Targaryens, possessed an otherworldly allure but this woman was something else.
Queen Rhaenys observed the woman on the screen with a mixture of fascination and envy. Her eyes flicked to the reactions of those around her, noting the desire and admiration reflected in their expressions, particularly among the men.
[The screen flickers black momentarily before illuminating once more, revealing the two children nestled in the same bed, their faces brimming with excitement.
[Beside them sat an old woman, radiating power, elegance, and authority. Her hair, a cascade of white, framed a face etched with wrinkles, yet there was a fire that burned bright in her lilac eyes, the same shade as the woman. One could easily discern that she was once a great Valyrian Beauty, her presence commanding reverence and respect.]
Aerys's eyes narrowed at the screen, his voice tinged with confusion and agitation. "Who are these people? What is going on? Weren't we supposed to be watching our future?"
The others in the room, both from before and after the rebellion, involuntarily shivered at the sound of his voice. Despite his regained sanity, Aerys still bore the unsettling aura of the mad king they remembered, particularly evident in his appearance.
"Keep quiet and observe if you wish to understand," Shaera Targaryen interjected sharply, her tone commanding obedience.
"Mother, I am the king, y-"
"ANOTHER WORD FROM YOUR MOUTH AND I WILL SLAP YOU AGAIN." Shaera screamed her words cutting through the air like a whip, silencing Aerys instantly as he stared at her with wide eyes.
The people from before and after the rebellion gulped, exchanged uneasy glances, realizing the source from where Aerys got his screaming habit. They found solace in the knowledge that there was someone capable of reining in the once-mad king.
Elaraena: (eagerly) Grandmother, what happened then? How did our Goddess hatch those dragon eggs?
The Targaryen's especially the one's from after the dance narrowed their eyes, 'Dragon eggs?'.
Vaelor: (furrowed his brows) Hadn't they turned into stone?
Elaraena: (huffed) hush, Lēkia (brother) Let Grandmother speak...
"Truly, brother's are such pain in the ass..."
"ARYA, WHERE ARE YOUR MANNERS? WHAT IS THIS LANGUAGE? WHERE DID YOU LEARN THAT WORD?"
Arya rolled her eyes at her mother's scolding, accustomed to her teachings about being ladylike.
Ned Stark simply rubbed his face in embarrassment and resisted the urge to groan out loud. Benjen simply snickered while Sansa like her father had an embarrassed expression on her face while Robb and Bran looked offended and Rickon simply stared at his ranting mother.
Brandon Stark let out a chuckle and shared an amused look with his wife Viserra, who had been chuckling herself. Rickard simply blinked at his supposed grand daughter and sighed while Lyanna had a smirk on her face.
"Well, I agree with the little wolf..." The deep voice of Visenya Targaryen drawled, as she threw a look at Aegon the conqueror who simply rolled his eyes and looked away.
Arya was bouncing on her seat, whisper-screaming that 'The Legendary Visenya Targaryen called her 'Little wolf'.
Everyone just stared at the girl, who thought she was being discreet but was actually screaming and many, mainly the ancestors were truly amused and entertained by her excitement, though some like Cunttower, Allicunt, and the Lion bitch remained unamused.
[Vaelor simply rolled his eyes while the old woman chuckled huskily...]
Old Woman: Then, she walked into the fire, in the middle of the burning pyres, she had kept her stoned dragon eggs.
Elaraena: (gasped) Walked into the burning fire? Did she not get hurt?
Vaelor: Hush, Let Grandmother speak Rae...
[Elaraena shot a glare at her grinning brother and turned away with a huff, keeping her attention on her grandmother who looked deeply amused by the duo's antics.]
Chuckles rang in the room, everyone was entertained by the brother-sister duo's antics and could see that they were very close but none forgot the words of the old woman.
'walked into the fire, in the middle of the burning pyres. Who? What is going on?'
Old Woman: Daor (No), my sweets. She bravely walked into the burning fire among the screams and shouts as if in a trance, the dragon eggs calling on to her, their mother.
[The woman's lilac eyes seemed distant, as if she were witnessing the scene herself. Slowly, a flame flickered within her gaze, and the screen zoomed in, revealing a raging inferno consuming everything in its path.
[Among the burning pyres, fifteen dragon eggs, turned to stone, rested in between, surrounded by the intense heat of the red flames. Suddenly, screams and shouts of "NO" erupted as a woman approached, her back to the screen.]
Everyone watched transfixed, their eyes wide and breathing labored. The Targaryen's sat in shock and disbelief, their eyes holding a magnitude of emotions from nervousness to eagerness.
"Who is she and why is she walking into the fire, is she crazy? Why are we watching this vision?" questioned Sansa bewildered.
"She is a Targaryen, from her hair and Targaryen's have always been crazy."
Lysa Tully scoffed, her eyes fixed on a certain someone. For a moment, she forgot about the Targaryens in the room. Only when she felt a chill down her back did she realize her mistake, and looked around to see the Targaryen's staring at her darkly while her husband and grown son gave her an 'are you stupid?' look and she gulped before looking away.
"But where did so many dragon eggs come from?" questioned Jaeherys the First, shooting Lysa a look before turning towards his family. His wife wore a similar questioning expression, but his children and grandchildren simply ignored him, and he shared a sad look with his wife.
[Suddenly, a loud howl pierced the air, and two wolves charged forward, their mournful cries echoing in the arena. They seemed ready to leap into the fire alongside her, but the people intervened, restraining the wolves as they continued to howl and struggle against their hold.]
The Starks blinked in astonishment, Rickard Stark breaking the silence with a bewildered question, "Direwolves? How is that possible?"
Lyanna Stark's curiosity peaked as she interjected with an envious expression, "But why does she have Direwolves? They're creatures of the North, why would they be with Targaryens?"
Saera Targaryen, with a languid air, observed the room with amusement before drawling, "Did none of you bother to notice her hair?"
All attention turned towards her to see as she slowly twirled the wine in her glass and slowly took a sip, relishing the moment before turning to face the group with a smirk.
"Is everyone truly that oblivious, or is ignorance simply a hereditary trait?" Saera Targaryen drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
At her jab, a wave of embarrassment washed over some, while others bristled with anger. However, before anyone could retort, Saera sighed theatrically and gestured toward the screen.
"She bears the Targaryen silver locks, yes, but observe closely," she continued, her voice laced with smugness. "Notice the streaks of black amidst the silver."
It was only after this observation that the assembled crowd turned their attention back to the screen, their murmurs of realization filling the room.
The Starks froze, silver locks with streaks of black, was it her?
Viserra and Brandon looked at the screen in panic while the Starks from after the rebellion shared looks of sadness and concern.
[Amidst the fiery chaos, the woman pressed forward, paying no heed to the cries around her. Her hair, a rare blend of golden-silver with streaks of black, cascaded down to her hips, billowing in the wind with her back straight and her posture tall, she moved with an air of authority and power that seemed to command respect.
[Even from behind, her presence exuded a sense of strength and control, as if she were gliding effortlessly through the chaos around her as she strode purposefully toward the eggs.]
Elaraena: What happened next?
As the scene unfolded before them, the minds of those present, particularly the Targaryens and Starks, screamed with the same question.
[The scene shifted back to the woman with lilac eyes, who was brought back from her reverie by the anxious voice of her granddaughter. She glanced at both her grandchildren, their expressions a mix of nervousness and anticipation, which brought a smile to her face.]
Old Woman: Next, the fire burned brighter and higher, soon covering the whole arena and engulfing the stoned eggs and 'her' within its flames.
"Which means, she died. Good riddance." said Cersei with arrogance dripping down her tone and an evil expression on her face.
"Do you want to say that again, little girl." drawled another voice, the words dripping with a dangerous edge, causing everyone in the room to freeze.
All eyes turned to see the legendary Visenya Targaryen, her presence alone was enough to instill fear, an aura of darkness surrounding her as she sat with her legendary sword, Darksister, twirling effortlessly in her hand. Her dark purple eyes bore into Cersei, who felt a chill run down her spine at the intensity of Visenya's gaze, a silent threat lingering in the air.
Cersei's arrogance faltered under the weight of Visenya Targaryen's gaze, her words caught in her throat as she attempted to maintain her composure. She was petrified at the dark look on her face which promised pain but schooled her expressions and tried to glare back.
As the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by Cersei's piercing scream, a dagger flew past Cersei's throat, narrowly missing its mark by half an inch, leaving behind only a shallow cut and a trickle of blood. Cersei staggered to her feet, her hands instinctively clutching her injured throat, her body shaking with fear. Jaime and her children rushed to her side, their faces etched with concern and panic.
The atmosphere in the room turned even more ominous as all eyes turned to the source of the dagger and everyone flinched and shifted, fearing for their lives.
"You dare to look at my mother in the eye, Lannister whore."
The thundering voice of Maegor Targaryen boomed in the room, his eyes fixed on Cersei, a cruel glint in them, as if he was imagining all the ways in which he would torture her and it chilled not just Cersei but everyone to the bones as they remembered the fate of Alys Harroway and her house, which made them want to runaway and hide.
Tywin Lannister, usually composed and authoritative, found himself faltering in the face of Visenya and Maegor's wrath. With a gulp, he attempted to control his fear. In a desperate bid to defuse the escalating confrontation, he swiftly intervened, forcefully guiding the shaking Cersei back into her seat with a stern warning etched in his gaze.
A bell like laughter echoed in the room and all eyes turned towards the famed beauty, Shiera Seastar who was leisurely leaning back on her seat, her cup of wine in one hand and she pushed a curl of her thick silver-golden hair behind and took a sip before turning her mismatched mesmerising eyes towards the crowd, who seemed bewitched by her every move.
"It's truly amusing to see how bold the people of Westeros have gotten. It's funny to think that a lion might think it is a match for a dragon."
Her words cut through the tension like a knife, dripping with a subtle blend of amusement and disdain as she took a another sip of her drink, her eyes fixed on Cersei with a dangerous edge to them.
Visenya simply leaned in her seat, the silence broken only by the soft sound of Darksister slicing through the air as it danced in Visenya's hand.
Despite her outward calm, her eyes were roaring with the promise of death and the occupants of the room remained frozen in place, their bodies tense with anticipation and fear. Not a single soul dared to utter a word, lest they wanted to be cut in two.
The room remained tense and silent, each occupant acutely aware of the palpable threat hanging in the air, hesitant to even breathe for fear of invoking the wrath of dragons.
[Elaraena gasped while Vaelor tensed, both their eyes wide in anxiousness]
Old Woman: And soon, dawn approached, the fire slowly but surely died down whereas the family and the people of our Goddess were drowned in sorrow as they surrounded those burning pyres howling and screaming for 'her' and as soon as the fire diminished, everyone ran towards the arena only to stop and stare in shock and disbelief.
[The screen shifted back to the woman, her expression dazed once again, as if lost in a vision. Meanwhile, the scene transitioned to the arena, once ablaze but now reduced to smoldering ashes. The crowd stood in stunned silence, their faces contorted with disbelief and grief.
[Tears streaked down their cheeks, their eyes red from crying, voices hoarse from wailing. It seemed as though all hope had been extinguished, yet what unfolded before them defied all logic. It was impossible.]
[There she sat, shrouded in black garments, her face blurred, but she was untouched by the inferno that raged around her. Her attire, once azure, now bore the solemn hue of the midnight sky, a regal garment befitting her presence. Strands of silver hair, streaked with ebony, cascaded freely around her. It was captivating, there was a divine aura around her Yet, it was not her appearance alone that enthralled onlookers, but the miracle surrounding her.]
Silence, no one uttered a word, 'it was impossible', was the only the thought in their heads.
[Instead of the dragon eggs, there stood 15 baby dragons, encircling her with an air of protectiveness. They screeched at the onlookers, their primal instincts urging them to draw closer to their mother. The people stood in stunned silence, their minds struggling to comprehend the extraordinary sight unfolding before them.]
[Suddenly, with a resounding howl, the two wolves charged forward, only to halt abruptly when met with the screeching defiance of the dragons. Growling in response, the wolves seemed ready for conflict until the woman uttered a silent command.
[With a gentle "shush," both the dragons and wolves quieted, the wolves nuzzling against her as she extended her hands to them. The onlookers could only watch in stunned silence as the surreal scene unfolded before them.]
As Viserra trembled with anxiety, her husband Brandon offered a comforting presence, his strong hands enveloping hers in a reassuring grasp. With each gentle stroke of his thumb against her palm, he sought to calm the storm of emotions raging within her, his touch a tether grounding her amidst the tumultuous atmosphere of the room.
[And one by one, they all fell to their knees, bowing in awe and submission as the woman rose to her feet, her 15 dragons and two wolves encircling her protectively. With her back to the screen, she observed her family and her people dropping in admiration and respect before her. As their voices rose in a unified chant, the air hummed with the weight of their loyalty and reverence.]
Everyone: THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS AND WOLVES! THE MOTHER OF DRAGONS AND WOLVES!
The room fell into a heavy, stunned silence, each member of the gathering grappling with the weight of what they had just witnessed. Despite the absence of the woman's face on the screen, her presence loomed large, commanding authority and power that rivaled the legendary figures of Nymeria and Visenya.
The echoes of the earlier cheers seemed to reverberate ominously, sending a chill down the spines of those present. To some, they sounded like a menacing threat, while to others, they held the weight of an unspoken promise.
"i-impossible, h-how? How d-did s-she?" Jaeherys' voice faltered, his disbelief palpable as he shook his head in disbelief.
"How did her clothes not burn but got changed?" Queen Rhaenys inquired in shock.
"Forget about clothes, she wasn't burnt as well..." Visenya shot her sister a droll stare before pointing out drily.
"Unburnt..." whispered Rhaenyra and she shared a look with Daemon, who was clutching the sides of his arm chair.
"Who is she?" questioned Aemond in a whisper, as he leaned back in his seat, his hand tightening on his cup of wine.
"Magic?" Alicent pointed out with a disgusted expression but stiffened when Aemma turned towards her with narrowed eyes and her went immediately turned towards the side of her face and she gulped looking away.
Across the room, Aerys, Rhaella, Rhaegar, and Elia sat frozen, their eyes wide with a dawning realization. They turned to Viserra and Brandon, seeking answers in their shared expression of shock.
Among those who had lived through the rebellion, fear gripped them like a vise as they realized their worst nightmares were manifesting before their very eyes.
"She... she did it..." Tyrion's whisper broke the heavy silence, his awe and astonishment evident in his wide-eyed gaze. Slowly, he turned to look at his father, searching for any hint of recognition in Tywin's expression.
Tywin's countenance remained stoic, a mask of composure masking the storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. His piercing green eyes, however, betrayed the turmoil within, reflecting a haunted quality as if they were peering into the depths of a distant memory.
Indeed, his ears seemed to echo with the resonance of a promise made many years ago, a vow that had lingered in the recesses of his mind like a haunting refrain. "I will return". The memory of that day had kept him awake in the dead of night.
Now, as the events unfolded before him, Tywin realized that the day he had arrived. She would fulfill her promise, not only of her return but the other one as well for he had seen it in her eyes.
"She is coming..." Olenna's voice was hushed, devoid of her usual sharp wit. For once, even the Queen of Thorns had no jest to offer in the face of their impending storm.
Suddenly a small smile graced Helaena's face, it was the first time she had smiled after the events of the dance of the dragon that they had seen and her eyes connected with those of her ancestor, Daenys and recognition shined in their eyes, 'The time had come...'
[The old woman was once again snapped to reality when the two children softly began chanting as well, their eyes drooping due to sleep but they fought to stay awake with dreamy smiles on their faces as they chanted 'The Mother of Dragons and Wolves' with a sense of wonder and excitement which made the Old Woman laugh, as she caressed their head.]
Woman: Okay that's it for today, sleep now...
Both the children: But Muña...
Woman: No, Let us leave, mother or else they are never going to ask you to stop.
[The old woman nodded in agreement and slowly rose with a gentle chuckle, then both women leaned down to kiss each child on the forehead. As they drifted into sleep, their dreams were filled with visions of their Goddess and her mighty conquests.]
[The two women strolled through the gardens, a realm of ethereal beauty unlike any other. Every corner was adorned with a kaleidoscope of flowers and verdant plants, their vibrant hues illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight. The air was perfumed with the sweet fragrance of blossoms, mingling with the refreshing chill of the breeze that danced among the leaves.]
Everyone blinked, 'this garden is in the red keep?' they thought.
Aerys's fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair, his mind consumed by the vivid images of the vision. Dragons, once thought to be mere legends, had returned, and it was the girl, it was her and he knew who she was, the one he had suspected all along.
A smile graced his lips and he resisted the urge to laugh, he had been right all along, his dear grand daughter was the one but the circumstances surrounding her presence amidst burning pyres troubled him deeply.
The place did not look like it was in Kings Landing and nor did the people and then he thought back to the announcement of the Lannister girl, queen, she had said and those children had said prince Baratheon.
His expression hardened, a grim realization dawning upon him. Something had transpired within their dynasty, something that threatened to unravel the delicate balance of power.
[In the middle of this breathtaking sanctuary stood a majestic statue, towering over the garden with an aura of power and grace. The figure depicted a woman clad in an intricate armor, a crown on her head and a sword in her hand, her form sculpted with exquisite detail that spoke of her strength and resilience. With a regal stance, she seemed to command the very essence of the garden, a symbol of respect and reverence amidst the lush beauty that surrounded her.]
[Standing before the statue in silence, both women beheld its magnificence with a mix of respect, admiration, and wonder. Their eyes traced the intricate details of the sculpture, each curve and line a validation to the strength and valor it represented. In the hushed stillness of the garden, the statue seemed to emanate a quiet power, a reminder of the legacy it embodied.]
"Statue of a woman? How far has Westeros fallen?" sneered Otto shaking his head before letting out a scream when a spear stopped right in front of his eyes.
He was frozen in fear, his breathing heavy and his eyes fixed on the weapon, the sharp nook of the spear, an inch away from piercing in between his eyes and Slowly, he raised his gaze to meet the furious countenance of the warrior Princess Nymeria, her features contorted with anger.
"I've endured enough of your insolence and your daughter's folly," she declared, her voice dripping with authority and dominance.
"If the Targaryen prince's punishments weren't sufficient to silence your filth, then I will gladly ensure your silence for eternity."
Her words carried a weight that made everyone in the room shudder while Arya sat there with heart eyes, fangirling and resisted the urge to say yes as she stopped herself from clapping out loud and her enthusiasm was matched by the Martells.
Daemon snorted with a "Please do" and ignored the looks thrown at him as he took a sip of his wine and gave the warrior princess a devilish smile.
[Suddenly harsh breaths of wind blew and the surroundings turned a little somber but both the women kept standing in their place, staring at the statue. Their matching eyes locked on the majestic statue before them. As the winds picked up pace, their long silver hair shining in the moonlight danced in its embrace, swirling around their faces, and their clothes billowed gently in the breeze.]
Woman: Do you think she is still out there?
Old Woman: Who knows, Viserra. Maybe, maybe not...
[The beautiful woman, who was the mother of the two adorable children, finally turned her eyes away from the statue and turned towards her mother, who had a small smile on her face, a faraway look as she kept staring at the statue.]
Viserra Targaryen blinked, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze settle on her all at once. It was a peculiar sensation, hearing someone else being called by the same name. Her gaze shifted to Aegon the Conqueror, a sympathetic expression softening her features.
She couldn't begin to imagine what he must have felt, confronted with the knowledge of all the Aegons from the future. And truth be told, the track record of Aegons did seem to be a disappointment.
Viserra: You can feel it too right? It's coming...
[The Old woman remained silent, her eyes fixed on the statue.]
Women: After a century of peace, mother, there is a war on the horizon.
Everyone in the room simply sighed in frustration because nobody understood what exactly was going on? They had many questions but decided to be quiet and watch, for now.
[The old woman turned to meet her daughter's solemn gaze, her smile widening with a mystical glint in her eyes. Despite the changing weather, both women remained steadfast, their attention locked on each other.]
Viserra: (took a deep breath and whispered) Is it true?
[Old Woman simply raised her brow in question, the smile intact on her face with a knowing glint in her eyes. Suddenly, a loud thunder echoed startling Viserra, as she looked around the weather growing worse by the second but ignored it and faced her mother.]
Viserra: Is it true what they say, that she is immortal, that she is still out there?
Old Woman: Who knows, Viserra?
"Okay, who is this woman?" questioned Baela, her expression eerily similar to her father Daemon as both sat with irritated glares on their faces.
"If you could fucking refrain from incessant interruptions, perhaps we could all gain some insight." drawled Aegon the second, as he smiled sarcastically at Baela and took a sip of his wine.
"Oh you shit-"
"Baela, not now..." Rhaena interrupted her twin and Baela's mood soured further and she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms but not before throwing a murderous glare at Aegon.
[Viserra gazed at her mother's serene expression with growing frustration. The realm had been tense for some time, a palpable sense of impending doom hanging in the air like a storm on the horizon. Despite attempts to maintain a façade of normalcy, Viserra could no longer deny her fear. Stepping forward, she grasped her mother's shoulder, her stance rigid, eyes brimming with desperation, and face pleading for answers.]
"Doom?" The three conquerors and everyone that knew about Aegon's dream frowned and shared concerned looks while the others grew more frustrated and confused.
Viserra: Dowager Queen Helaena Targaryen, You are a dreamer and I am aware that you know the truth. Please mother, you have to tell us everything because if she is out there somewhere then we need her. It's coming mother, the war, the doom, We can feel it, and I am sure you have seen it already.
Helaena did not turn at the looks thrown her way and kept staring at the screen, her eyes holding the same look as the Helaena on screen.
[The smile on Helaena's face dimmed as a haunted passed her eyes and the voice of the thunder grew louder, both occurrences not missed by Viserra, whose fear intensified.]
Viserra: Please mother, if the legends are true then she has to return, to save us, to protect her legacy, she has to return. You know where she is, please mother, tell me, we have to bring her back. She is our Goddess, our savior and if it's true that she is still alive, still out there then she will return, she has to, to save her legacy. She is our only hope, we have to bring her back mother.
Helaena: There are a lot of things that you all don't know about her.
Viserra: Because you and father never told us the whole truth, nobody knows the truth of what exactly happened, except the famous stories and legends of her conquests and golden rule, her greatness, her power, her beauty, her legacy, her name, everything we know from the Maesters, the books, the journals, the word of mouth, I know is a half truth or else that witch wouldn't have said those words fifty years back.
Jenny frowned, "Witch?"
"I highly doubt this is the witch you're imagining, Aunt Jenny," Rhaella responded, her tone unusually stiff.
Rhaella Targaryen, known for her kindness and warmth, wore an uncharacteristically cold expression. The tension in the room was palpable as Duncan furrowed his brow at his niece's tone, exchanging a glance with Jenny.
Ignoring the scrutinizing looks, Rhaella tightened her grip on her mother's hand. Though she harbored no personal animosity toward Jenny, she couldn't shake the feeling of blame.
It was Jenny who had brought the woods witch, the one who prophesied the promised prince born of Aerys and Rhaella's union. While she cherished her children dearly, they were her only solace in a life she often despised.
Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder: what if Jenny hadn't intervened with the witch? Would she and Aerys have been permitted to marry differently?
Locking eyes with her daughter, Viserra, Rhaella received a sad smile. Viserra had always been her pillar of strength, her constant support. Returning the smile, Rhaella directed her attention back to the screen.
[Viserra took deep breaths, her eyes filled with tears, as she watched Helaena stiffen. The flames of the firelights around the garden intensified, casting a haunting glow over the surroundings.]
Viserra: Yes, I read my great grandmother's journal, she was a dreamer as well and If I am wrong, then tell me, where is 'Soul'? The legendary sword of our Goddess, where is it? Her crown was passed down, her dagger was passed down but why not her beloved sword? It's written that her sword was her most cherished companion, she was never seen without her sword. Forget about the sword. What about Valyrian? The King of Dragons, our Goddess's mount, where did he go? Why wasn't the legendary, the largest dragon ever seen after her supposed death? No trace of him, the largest dragon, as if he had vanished from the face of earth.
"Who is this goddess?" questioned Aegon the conqueror with a frown.
"From the looks of it, she is someone legendary." said Rhaenys, the queen who never was, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the tales of this remarkable woman. She wasn't alone, every woman in the room seemed captivated and apprehensive by the story.
"I would like to meet her and have a spar; it would be fun," Nymeria declared with a wicked smirk, her words tinged with excitement. Her husband chuckled at her enthusiasm, his adoration evident as he drew her closer by the waist.
Their lips met in a deep, passionate kiss, and for a moment, they were lost in each other's embrace, ignoring the watching eyes as they engaged in their own private moment of intimacy and fighting for dominance over the kiss.
"Well, I don't mind the show, but..."
The interruption drew their attention back to the speaker, none other than King Theon Stark, eliciting a glare from Nymeria that would send seasoned warriors to death. However, he merely raised an eyebrow, and smirked unphased by her reaction.
"It's concerning that none of you seem bothered by the woman's words. Did you not hear her mention doom and war? Isn't that more important?"
Cregan Stark's voice dripped with sarcasm as he poured himself another glass of wine, reclining in his seat with a roll of his eyes.
"The woman seems very scared."
"And desperate..."
Sansa started with a nervous expression and Robb finished, his demeanor stern and eyes narrowed at the screen.
[Helaena did not reply to her daughter but kept staring at the statue in silence, her haunted eyes filled with tears. Seeing her mother's silence, Viserra shook her head in disbelief and the vulnerability in her eyes turned to anger as she shook her shoulders and shouted as the flames of the firelight grew and the echoes of thunder in the background grew louder.]
Viserra: TELL ME MOTHER, PLEASE, WHERE IS SHE?
Many jumped, startled at the scream and the silence grew somber.
Helaena: (whispered, a tear rolled down her eye) She is not here...
[Viserra took a step back in confusion and horror before she shook her head and asked in a desperate tone.]
Viserra: Where? Where is she then? What is it that you and father are hiding, mother? We need her mother or else the doom will ruin everything.
[Another tear rolled down Helaena's eyes, scaring Viserra, she slowly wiped her mother's tears and stared at her in despair and anxiousness.]
Viserra: Tell me Muña, please, I want to know the truth, all of it. What happened a hundred years ago? What happened to our Goddess?
"For fuck's sake, just spill it out! Who the hell is this 'Goddess' girl? She was the one from that vision, right? You, from the future, do any of you know her?"
Maegor's voice thundered through the room, his anger palpable and causing everyone to flinch. Those from after the rebellion, particularly the ones to whom the last question was directed, exchanged fearful glances, realizing the dilemma they faced.
'How on earth do you break it to an ancestor like Maegor, the cruel, that his dynasty has crumbled?' they pondered silently, avoiding the probing gazes of the others.
[Helaena stared at the tears running down her daughter's eyes, the fear, the desperation and anxiousness and closed her eyes. Viserra was right, the doom was coming and only she can save them now. Looks like it's time for the truth to be unveiled for the secrets to be revealed. The time has come, she could feel it, the time has come for her to return.]
"I do not have a good feeling about this. Something bad has happened Bran." whispered Viserra, a grim expression on her face and she tightened her hold on her husband's hand.
Viserra: Why did that witch fifty years ago say that she is still out there. You are a dreamer, I know you have seen it all, all of it. Everything that is not mentioned in any of the books or journals, that no maester, priest or witch knows about, no one but 'you' only you. Tell me Muña, please, I want to know all of it, the truth, the love and lies,the secrets, the betrayals, the wars, the conquests, everything. Please mother, we need our Goddess back.
[Helaena slowly opened her eyes and turned toward the statue, the lightning casting an ethereal glow upon its majestic form, her eyes becoming glazed as she whispered.]
Helaena: The time has come...
Viserra: huh?
Helaena: The time has come Tala. The time has come for her to return. The time has come...
An ominous feeling settled over the room like a heavy shroud, casting a pall of uncertainty and unease among those gathered. The tension was palpable, thickening the air with a sense of foreboding as they grappled with the weight of what they had witnessed and the unanswered questions that lingered in the wake of the vision.
[Viserra's eyes widened, and she took a step towards her mother, grasping her shoulders. Her mother's lilac eyes stared back with an unsettling blankness. Viserra frowned, noticing the dazed expression on her face.
[Then, in an instant, she saw something that chilled her to the core. A loud gasp escaped her lips as she stood frozen, her eyes locked with her mother's. In that moment, she could hear them, the whispers of the vision unfolding before her. A shiver ran down her spine, enveloping her in a sense of dread.]
[The screen zoomed in on Helaena's eyes, and a blur of a scene passed.]
[The scene unfolded in the midst of a vast arena. From the looks of it, the location was somewhere in Westeros, evident from the multitude of nobles and commoners gathered around. Many great houses, along with numerous other noble families were present, their flags standing proudly along with those of the visitors from beyond Westeros. They filled the whole arena, standing in anticipation.]
The room fell into a hushed silence as all eyes fixated on the screen with rapt attention, their gazes locked on the unfolding events with a mixture of fascination and trepidation.
[The scene shifted, revealing the woman seated upon a magnificent throne, her back to the screen. Clad in regal Valyrian attire, she exuded both beauty and strength, a formidable warrior and leader. Though her face remained blurred, her graceful posture and commanding presence spoke volumes. Adorned with a crown of rubies and diamonds, her silver hair with streaks of black shimmered with rare coloration. Every movement she made was captivating, radiating grace, elegance, and authority. Draped in a dark violet dress that accentuated her every curve, she held an air of mesmerizing power.]
[Beside her throne sat her two direwolves, One, with sleek black fur adorned by white stripes and golden eyes, while the other boasted pure white fur streaked with gray, its eyes icy blue. With bared canines and poised for attack, the direwolves stood sentinel at their mistress's side, glowering as their eyes bore threateningly at the twenty five men.]
[In the midst of a tense silence, the arena bore witness to a scene of simmering anger and anticipation. Twenty-five men, gigantic in size, stood poised with various weapons, their hungry gazes fixed upon the woman on the throne.
[Surrounding the arena, a sea of nobles and common folk alike watched the impending confrontation with a myriad of emotions. Everyone stood, Knights and nobles brandished drawn weapons, their expressions ranging from excitement to tension, vindictiveness to nervousness. Amidst the whispers and murmurs, an electric atmosphere charged the air with anticipation and rage.]
"W-what is happening?" questioned Margery in shock, her eyes fixed on the woman on the throne, who looked other worldly even with her face being blurred, one could easily say she was an ethereal beauty and someone that excluded power and authority.
Rhaegar's eyes were fixed on the screen, the woman, he knew it was her but for some reason and it was wrong for him to look at her like this, he was married but he was drawn towards the woman on screen, his indigo eyes focused on the woman and despite the blurred visage, her allure was undeniable, anyone could say she was beautiful, in fact the most beautiful and that made him yearn to see her mesmerizing face.
Her Targaryen locks were of a rare shed, a rare blend of gold and silver, that was rare even in Old Valyria, with black streaks in them which only enhanced their beauty.
The dark violet dress, hugged her body and accentuated it in a way that it made one salivate. She had a body to die for, the perfect figure one would say but the most captivating was the way she carried herself. She was a warrior, a figure of power and dominance, she exuded an aura of regal authority, and atop her head, adorned with a crown that gleamed with significance.
Rhaegar found himself drawn to her, his heart stirred by the magnetic pull of her presence, longing to uncover the mysteries hidden beneath her veil of mystery. He looked around to see all eyes drawned to her and noticed how the men were eyeing her with intense desire which made his dragon blood boil.
"She is a warrior." Visenya declared, her gaze unwavering as she studied the enigmatic woman before them.
"A powerful one at that..."
Daemon's voice joined in, his words echoing Visenya's sentiments with a hint of awe, his attention wholly consumed by the figure displayed on the screen. In that moment, amidst the quiet intensity of the room, it was as if time itself had paused, allowing them to bear witness to the indomitable spirit and strength embodied by the woman before them.
The room fell into a hushed reverence as all eyes remained fixed on the screen, the figure depicted commanding attention and respect with her very presence.
[Suddenly a deafening roar reverberated through the arena, shaking its very foundations as fifteen majestic large Dragons descended, each claiming their spot around the perimeter.]
[The largest among them, a magnificent gray and purple dragon with fiery red eyes, positioned itself directly behind the woman's throne, encircling it protectively. As if a throne upon a dragon's back, the woman sat with regal poise, flanked by two fully grown direwolves and they, along with the dragon, fixed their intense gaze upon the men before them, a silent warning of the consequences for daring to threaten their mother.]
Each and every person in the room was frozen, fifteen dragons and above all the gray and purple dragon with red eyes was the largest dragon they had ever seen or read about.
"It's even bigger than Balerion..." whispered Aenys in shock.
[As the tension reached its peak, a soft chuckle escaped the woman's lips, its melodic tone cutting through the stifling silence like a knife. With a gentle caress, she ran her hand through her children's heads, eliciting a collective freeze from the onlookers.]
[Her voice, mesmerizing and hypnotic, held them captive. With deliberate grace, she rose from her throne, removing her crown with a solemn air. Each step she took reverberated through the chamber, sending shivers down the spines of all who witnessed her descent. Her movements, like echoes of authority and danger, carried an unspoken promise of death, leaving those present on edge. As she made her way down the stairs, her deliberate stride resembled that of a predator stalking its prey, instilling a sense of unease in the hearts of all who beheld her.]
It as as if there was a hunter, hunting it's prey. Her every step screamed of authority and it made Rhaenyra admire and envy the woman on screen and the yearning to come face to face with her increased.
Robert Baratheon's gaze remained fixed on the woman portrayed on the screen, his usual demeanor momentarily replaced by a sense of captivation and intrigue. Despite her blurred features, he found himself drawn to her, her presence commanding his attention in a way he had not experienced before.
In that moment, he felt a stirring within him, a recognition of something unfamiliar yet undeniably compelling. His thoughts briefly drifted to Lyanna, the woman he had once believed to be the epitome of beauty, but now, in the presence of this mysterious figure, he found himself questioning that belief.
With each subtle movement captured on screen, Robert's fascination grew, his curiosity piqued by the enigma before him. Though her face remained hidden, her allure was undeniable, and Robert couldn't help but feel a growing attraction to the woman whose identity remained shrouded in mystery.
[With both hands clasped behind her back, the woman assumed a commanding stance, her very presence exuding authority and leadership. It was a sight that compelled people to bow in deference, while her formidable aura instilled a deep-seated fear, prompting others to shrink away in apprehension. The twenty-five men, who were twice her size and already on edge, tightened their grip on their weapons, bracing themselves for what was to come.]
Baela's eyes shimmered with admiration as she gazed at the screen, her fascination evident in the way her gaze lingered on the enigmatic woman displayed before them.
There was a sense of reverence in her expression, as if she recognized a kindred spirit in the figure of strength and determination portrayed on screen. For Baela, meeting this remarkable woman had become a newfound aspiration and from the look on Rhaena's face, she knew she shared her sentiments.
Jacerys Velaryon stood in awe of the woman displayed on the screen, his admiration palpable and as he continued to gaze upon her, a blush crept across his cheeks, a reaction he couldn't quite explain.
Perhaps it was the undeniable allure of her commanding presence, he thought but whatever the reason, she must be very beautiful and he hoped to meet her.
Meanwhile, Daeron Targaryen stood in awe, his usual composed demeanor momentarily shaken by the display of unparalleled strength and resilience. Never before had he witnessed such commanding authority, such unwavering power emanating from a single individual.
Growing up in High Garden he has always heard that women were weak but he never listened to them for Visenya was a living truth to their lies, their ancestor.
And right now, Daeron found himself captivated by the indomitable spirit of the woman before him, her essence leaving an indelible impression on his mind.
[The tense standoff between the men and the woman persisted, each side locked in a silent struggle, neither daring to make the first move. In a sudden burst of action, one of the men, wielding an ax, lunged forward with an attack. However, before he could reach his target, the woman remained unfazed, and with swift precision, she incapacitated him. In a matter of seconds, he lay sprawled on the ground, his abdomen grievously wounded, his entrails spilling out onto the arena floor.]
[The woman wielded a magnificent Valyrian steel dagger, its craftsmanship evident in every detail. As the camera focused on the dagger, the intricate design of a three-headed Dragon with a Direwolf at its center became apparent. Each etching spoke of a rich history and unparalleled skill, marking it as a truly exceptional weapon, one worthy of legends.]
"Whoever made that dagger is very skilled." said Loras Tyrell in admiration.
"You idiot, you are focusing on the dagger? What about the one wielding it? By the gods, I have never seen any man fight like that..."
Garlan Tyrell slapped the back of his younger brothers head, his voice was tinged with awe as he spoke, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the figure of the woman displayed on the screen in awe and respect.
"Because she is a woman and no man will be able to fight like that..." replied Elia words rang out with a sense of certainty, as she gazed at the woman on screen. Elia had always knew 'she' will grow to be a legendary figure and and she could not help but feel a swell of pride at her accomplishments.
Arya's eyes sparkled as she gazed at the dagger on screen, it was beautiful.
"Dragon and Direwolf" whispered Torrhen Stark, his expression unfathomable.
[The woman lazily twirled her dagger and waited for the others to come and soon three more men attacked together and it was like a whiplash, she swiftly countered their attack, her movements a blur of lethal grace and the three were laying on the ground, all with their throats slashed.
The woman twirled and and a 'zip' sound was heard in the tense and silent arena as the woman now kneeled on the ground and slowly looked up to see five others attacking together and a fair, smooth, long leg kicked one of the men's in the chest before slashing the throat of other three in one swoop.]
[The silence in the room grew haunting, everyone's eyes holding awe, respect, admiration but above all fear and devotion. As they watched her make a cut through her gown to free her leg and fight easily as she kicked another man in the face before she gracefully executed a backflip, evading the onslaught of ten assailants and in a swift and seamless motion, she caught her beloved sword, "Soul," thrown to her by a woman that stood behind her and engaged in a fierce clash of steel that left all ten attackers defeated and motionless on the ground.]
As they witnessed her remarkable display of combat prowess, the onlookers found themselves unable to contain their amazement. Mouths hung agape in astonishment at the fluidity and skill of her movements, while cheeks flushed and throats tightened as she effortlessly cut through her gown making a slit.
Among the spectators, the Sand Snakes and Arianna Martell watched with wide eyes and unabashed admiration. Initially captivated by Princess Nymeria's prowess, they now found themselves equally enthralled by the mysterious woman before them.
With stars in their eyes, they eagerly anticipated the opportunity to meet her, perhaps even spar with her, a prospect that filled them with excitement.
Trystane and Quentyn Martell were equally captivated by the woman on the screen, contemplating the possibility of meeting her in person someday.
Qoren Martell, slowly took a sip of his wine, his dark eyes focused on the screen and thought It was a shame that the woman was related to the Targaryen.
Even then he couldn't help but acknowledge her formidable presence. Her prowess as a warrior and undeniable beauty were evident, leading him to feel a surprising sense of admiration rather than resentment towards a Targaryen.
Reflecting on the hypothetical role in historical conflicts, such as the Stepstones, he mused on the formidable force she would have represented.
[As the dust settled, only one adversary remained standing, their leader, towering over the woman and armed with two weapons, his eyes burning with anger, humiliation, and determination but he couldn't hide the tremor that passed through his spine. With a primal cry, he charged forward, his intent clear. Yet, in a single fluid motion, the woman swiftly dispatched him, severing his head with a single decisive strike.]
Maegor Targaryen found himself utterly captivated by the woman on screen. There was a familiarity in her prowess, reminiscent of his mother, yet somehow even more impressive. In her movements, he saw the depth of experience and resilience that marked a true warrior.
But it was her aura that truly drew him, it was a potent blend of death and power, reminiscent of Old Valyria.
Indeed, few possessed the formidable aura of Old Valyria that Maegor Targaryen and his parents, emanated. Among the Targaryens in from the future, he only seen a handful, like Daemon and the one-eyed boy, seemed to carry a semblance of that power.
The rest were either consumed by madness or lacked the strength to wield such authority. A shame, he thought, How far his house had fallen.
Known for his cruelty and single-minded pursuit of power, Maegor had never been intrigued by anyone before. Yet, as he watched her fight, he felt a stirring within him, a newfound curiosity that surpassed his usual indifference. For the first time, he found himself truly intrigued by someone other than himself.
Cheryl Fireborn sat in a corner, her eyes fixed on the woman on screen. Was this woman the reason why she was suddenly brought here?
Cheryl could time and time again feel a pair of eyes on her but she ignored them knowing who they belonged to and she had also decided to stay silent and unnoticed, for now.
(You must be confused as to who she is and where did she come from, well, I added her at the last moment and she is going to be a huge part of this book and I am sure you all will love her.)
[The arena fell into a hushed silence before erupting into thunderous cheers that reverberated far and wide, unrestrained and jubilant. The very ground seemed to tremble under the weight of the exultant applause as the woman silently turned, her graceful ascent up the steps to the throne.]
[It was not even a matter of minutes that she had defeated twenty five men, twice her size and came out without a scratch. Forget about blood and dust, except the cut in her dress that she had herself made, there wasn't even a curl of her hair that got misplaced. Seated upon the throne, her gaze swept over the throngs of kneeling spectators, her left leg elegantly crossed over the right, the telltale slit she made in her gown serving as a reminder of her recent triumph.]
The room was enveloped in a profound silence, a weighty atmosphere that seemed to stifle even the faintest whisper. Each person present was caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, unsure of how to process the astonishing spectacle before them. A fight like never before.
Should they cheer in admiration at the incredible display of skill and strength exhibited by the woman? Should they stand in awe of her commanding presence, which seemed to effortlessly captivate every eye in the room? Or should they tremble in fear at the raw power she wielded, dispatching her foes with a grace and precision that bordered on the otherworldly?
In mere moments, she had dispatched twenty-five adversaries, each one towering over her in size, yet unable to match her unparalleled prowess. She emerged from the fray unscathed, not a single strand of hair out of place, save for the deliberate slit in her dress that left many gasping, choking and blushing in equal measure.
It was a sight that defied explanation, leaving the spectators paralyzed with uncertainty, unable to articulate the myriad thoughts and emotions swirling within them.
Oberyn Martell, who from the time had come here wanted nothing more than to do anything but jump on Rhaegar and drive his spear through every part of his body and take away his dear sister with him back to Dorne was impressed. He had never encountered someone like her before. His viper eyes were filled with respect and desire, he wanted to meet her and he would love a match with her.
Aegon, the conqueror took a deep breath, reclining in his seat with a contemplative expression. Rarely had he witnessed a woman display such prowess in combat, aside from his formidable sister-wife, Visenya. Yet, the woman on the screen seemed to possess a unique ferocity that might surpass his wife and it intrigued him though he was not the only one.
Even Princess Nymeria, renowned for her fighting skills, appeared captivated by the display and judging from the way she whispered excitedly to her husband, it must be about wanting to spar with her just like Visenya must be wanting to, he thought.
As his thoughts drifted, Aegon pondered the woman's dual lineage, Targaryen and Stark. This association with the Starks stirred something within him, reigniting thoughts of his prophetic dream. Closing his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder if she was the one.
Jaime Lannister found himself attracted to the woman on the screen, or was it her combat skills? For as long as he could remember, his attention had been solely reserved for his twin, Cersei.
Yet now, he couldn't deny the draw he felt toward this unfamiliar figure, despite her being their enemy. He observed the tension in his father's demeanor, the mix of hatred and fear in Cersei's eyes, and the fascination in Tyrion's gaze, mirroring his own sense of awe.
Meanwhile, Robb Stark watched with a sense of pride, knowing deep down that this woman would become a formidable warrior. Despite his happiness for her potential greatness, there was a pang of sadness within him.
Fourteen years had passed since he last saw her, and not a day went by that he didn't miss her presence, recalling the promise they made to always stand together and accomplish great things.
Robb observed his family's reactions with a mixture of emotions. His father and uncle appeared proud yet melancholic, His mother's concern was evident. Sansa's reaction oscillated between shock and fascination, Bran and Rickon, on the other hand, were simply awestruck.
But it was Arya who captured Robb's attention the most. His youngest sister, with her wild spirit and fierce determination, sat frozen in her seat, her eyes wide and mouth agape as she stared at the screen in a trance-like state.
Arya had always held a special place in Robb's heart, her untamed nature and fiery spirit reminiscent of the woman who now commanded their attention.
As he watched her, a fond smile tugged at the corners of Robb's lips, knowing that Arya would one day embody the strength and courage of the woman on the screen.
Viserra felt tears filling her eyes as she shared a look of immense pride with Brandon.
Aemond Targaryen's lone eye remained fixed on the figure of the woman on the screen, captivated by her fierce demeanor and undeniable presence.
Despite the traditional beliefs like women aren't supposed to fight, and shit instilled by his mother, Aemond held a deep admiration for women who possessed strength and resilience, traits he valued above all else.
After all, his preference for Visenya over Aegon further solidified his appreciation for powerful women, and the woman on the screen embodied everything he admired.
Turning to gauge the reactions of those around him, Aemond observed a mixture of awe and fascination mirrored in the eyes of both Greens and Blacks alike. His uncle Daemon, in particular, caught his attention.
He knew his uncle and him were similar in many aspects and he would rather die than agree to it but that was the truth and he knew his uncle also favored Visenya and obviously so, Darksister was more important to Daemon than his own life.
As he observed the intensity in Daemon's dark eyes, it told Aemond that he too was drawn towards the woman like countless others.
Jaeherys, Alyssane, Aemon, Jocelyn, Baelon, and Alyssa sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the woman whose image held them all transfixed.
Rhaenys, Laena, Laenor, and Corlys exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the impact of the scene unfolding before them.
The Kingsguard like Barristan Selmy, Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower, Oswell Whent were bouncing in their seats. Never had they ever seen such a fight.
Ashara Dayne, Antoinette Celtigar and Yara Greyjoy were beaming with pride, knowing this woman was a warrior and undefeated at that.
"Now that is a woman to admire..." the silence was finally broke when the prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell spoke with his usual devilish smirk and sultry tone.
Theon Stark couldn't help but offer a smirk in agreement.
"Nonsense, women are not supposed to fight."
Alicent snapped but Despite her words, her gaze remained fixed on the woman on screen, a flicker of admiration evident in her eyes. Her father, shared her sentiment, both silently contemplating the strategic advantage this formidable woman could bring to their cause, if she were on their side.
"You opened your mouth again? Aemma would you please be a sweetheart and shut her up once more." Saera Targaryen's response was dripping with sarcasm, her tone smooth yet laced with disdain.
"I can truly understand, The Black's persistence to kill my ancestors and rightfully so, they are dreadful. Especially if I would have had relatives like Otto and Alicent."
Gerold Hightower whispered to Arthur Dayne and shivered in disgust making the famed 'sword of the morning ' stop himself from laughing out loud at the expression of disgust on his fellow sworn brothers face.
The tension in the room remained palpable as each person processed their own thoughts and emotions, silently acknowledging the impact of the woman's presence.
[Refusing the woman who threw her sword 'soul' from putting her crown back on her head, she regarded the kneeling masses with a steady gaze, raising her hand in a silent command for them to rise and they did so but the cheers kept getting louder and rowdier. Amidst the throng, an elderly Dothraki approached, stepping forward to address her.]
Man: Ven ayyey Anna is Undefeated, Azho ki the Vezhven Vezh, kishi Mai Khaleesi...
(As always she is undefeated, the gift of the great stallion, our mother queen)
[And soon everyone mainly the Dothraki started shouting and once again bowing in front of the woman]
Everyone: MAI KHALEESI, AZHO KI THE VEZHVEN VEZH, MAI KHALEESI...
[Another man came forward, took out his sword and placed it in front of the woman.]
Man: There sits, The Goddess, The Queen of Kings and Queens, The Conqueror, The Empress of New Valyria, The Great Mother Khaleesi of the great grass sea, Queen of the Andals, The Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the realm. The Slayer of the Night King, The Unburnt, The Undefeated, The Breaker of Chains, The Mother of Dragon and Wolves, The Unifier of Ice and Fire, The Heart of North, Guardian of House Targaryen, The wielder of 'Soul', The rider of 'Valyrian', The King of Dragons, Champion of the Fourteen Flames and the Old Gods. THERE SITS, THE ONLY RULER, I WILL BEND MY KNEE TO, OUR ONE TRUE QUEEN, OUR SAVIOR, THE GODDESS ON EARTH!
Everyone: THE GODDESS ON EARTH! THE GODDESS ON EARTH! THE GODDESS ON EARTH!
[Valyrian led the charge with a thunderous roar, joined in harmony by the haunting howls of the two wolves, who were joined by five other wolves. As one, the remaining fourteen dragons unleashed a cacophony of roars, taking to the skies with majestic grace, their powerful wings beating in unison as they danced above the arena. Balls of fire erupted from their jaws, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and red. The resounding chants of the crowd filled the air, their voices raised in fervent celebration, causing the very foundations of the arena to tremble beneath their collective might...]
The atmosphere in the room was electric, charged with an energy that transcended mortal comprehension. As the cheers and chants reverberated around them, those present felt a profound sense of awe and reverence wash over them.
The woman on the screen seemed to embody divinity itself, her every movement and gesture commanding the unwavering loyalty and devotion. In the room many monarchs sat but none had ever received such loyalty, trust and devotion. Her titles, spoken with fervor by her supporters, only served to underscore her otherworldly presence.
Amidst the overwhelming spectacle, questions lingered in the minds of many, whispered in hushed tones:
"New Valyria?"
"Night King?"
"Queen and Empress?"
"Champion of the Gods?"
Yet, in the face of such divine magnificence, these questions seemed insignificant, lost in the collective awe of those who bore witness to the woman's power.
Goosebumps rose on their skin, breaths quickened, and shivers ran down their spines as they were drawn deeper into the mesmerizing spectacle before them.
In that moment, they felt compelled to join the chorus of cheers, to kneel and bow before the woman who seemed to transcend mortal limitations and truly embody the essence of a goddess.
[The camera focused on the Woman seated upon the throne, as she gazed out with regal poise, her features remained veiled in a mysterious blur, adding to her enigmatic aura but her eyes slowly became visible and by the gods, there were no words to describe the beauty of her eyes, large lotus shaped eyes, outlined with kohl that made them seem more sultry and hypnotizing.]
[The most unique and main feature about her alluring eyes was that they were of different shades. One was the rarest shade, a mix of violet and lilac, while the other was icy gray, Stark gray, they held an intense mesmerizing allure, drawing the viewer into their depths. One could not help but be captivated by the striking contrast between her eyes that seemed to hold a spellbinding power, leaving all who beheld them entranced.]
The room fell into a collective hush, broken only by the sound of countless intakes of breath. Every pair of eyes was fixed on the screen, mesmerized, enraptured by the sight before them.
By the gods, those eyes...
It was as if they held the entirety of the cosmos within them, a universe of beauty and mystery that left those who beheld them utterly speechless. Tongue-tied and breathless, they struggled to find the words to describe the sheer magnificence of what they were witnessing.
Was she even mortal?
That question lingered in the air, whispered in hushed tones as those present grappled with the possibility that the woman before them was truly a Goddess. Her eyes alone held such captivating allure, such unfathomable beauty, that it seemed impossible to believe she could be anything less than a deity incarnate.
Man: TO THE GODDESS ON EARTH, FOREVER MAY SHE REIGN...
[The scene started fading with and in the background everyone kept chanting, 'FOREVER MAY SHE REIGN'.]
[It was as if a spell was broken, and Viserra suddenly stumbled backward, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. Bolts of thunder echoed one after the other, while the garden erupted with the sounds of footsteps and shouting knights and maids. The flames around the garden picked up, and the winds became uncontrollable.]
MAIDS: MY QUEEN, DOWAGER QUEEN PLEASE RETURN INSIDE THE CASTLE
KNIGHTS: MY QUEEN, DOWAGER QUEEN PLEASE, THE KING IS SEARCHING FOR YOU.
[Helaena blinked at her daughter before turning to look at the statue, her eyes misty as she ignored the heavy rain and everyone around her. Viserra, breathing heavily, a hand on her chest, felt herself shaking from the visions she had just seen. The power, the aura, the authority "She" held, truly a Goddess. Viserra could clearly feel and hear the overwhelming power she commanded by her mere presence.]
[Blocking out the pleadings and shouting, she kept a hand on her mouth, her eyes wide in disbelief and shock. She stuttered to form a word, feeling herself getting drenched from the heavy rain but all she could hear was 'FOREVER MAY SHE REIGN', 'THE GODDESS ON EARTH'.]
Each person present could relate to the woman on screen in that moment, their senses overwhelmed, their minds reeling. The lingering echoes of her chantings reverberated through the room, leaving everyone in its wake feeling as if they were hungover, caught in the throes of a spell that they couldn't shake off.
MAN: VISERRA, MOTHER
[Viserra's senses blurred as her husband's urgent footsteps and calls for her and their mother echoed in the background. Yet, amid the chaos, her focus remained fixated on the haunting image of those eyes. They seemed to penetrate her very soul, drawing her into their depths with an irresistible allure. In those eyes, she saw power beyond comprehension, a force that could command both awe and fear in equal measure. They held an otherworldly beauty, a mesmerizing intensity.]
Viserra: I - I, H-How-
Helaena: Call everyone Tala...
[Viserra's eyes widened even further, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she stood frozen in place. A man with silver hair and regal attire rushed towards her, enveloping her in a tight embrace, but her gaze remained fixed on their mother. Helaena and her stared at each other in haunting silence before the screen started fading.]
Helaena: It's time...
At the same time Daenys the dreamer, smiled and whispered "Indeed, The time has come..."
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hello my dear Readers, I hope you are all doing well.
I am back with the first chapter and know it might be confusing but you will understand everything soon. I have big plans for this book and hope you all will like what I have been planned.
Also, I really hope to see many comments ad votes for this is the longest chapter I have written in my whole life. It took me almost four days to write it.
I hope you won't disappoint me and appreciate my efforts for I am truly excited to write this book.
Now, like I said, we have to discuss something important that id who do you want me to pair my OC with because I still haven't considered a ship. We will discuss again on this matter but do let me know, whom do you want to see her with, someone from the show or an OC?
Do let me know what do you think about this chapter.
Have a good day and Stay safe.
THANKYOU!!