What if Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen had a daughter other than Daenerys?
What if Daenerys and Viserys had an older sister?
What if the history of Westeros was re-written?
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑
•|°
274 𝐀𝐂, 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫
"The princess is dead."
Three days. Three days of hard, ceaseless riding to hear those words.
Never had Rhaegar Targaryen been more broken than he was that day.
He was greeted by Oberyn and Arthur who stood outside her door. They gave him their most sincere condolences.
"She fought bravely," Oberyn told the Silver prince, "and valiantly."
He asked to see her.
It smelt like her. Naerys's room here maintained that strong pomegranate scent he'd come to distinguish as hers. The room was the size of his room in the Red Keep, except the walls were a bright orange, not dull red, and there was a solar, separated by a beaded curtain, furnished with Dornish art, couches and divans.
Rhaegar walked up to her bedside and thought it might've all been a misunderstanding; that she was just asleep. She would wake up any moment now and smile up at him, pleasantly surprised that he was here.
But she didn't. Her skin was deathly pale and her lips were an icy blue. Her hair was fanned out around her, making her look like an angel.
"Naerys." He touched her cheek and he bristled. It was stone cold.
Outside, a mournful groan ripped through the silence of the gardens. Rhaegar heard a flapping of wings, saw a flash of scaly blue pass the window before there came a loud crash followed by an anguished cry from Ēbrion.
Reluctantly leaving her side, the prince of Dragonstone stepped out of the room. Ēbrion and Sunfyre were at the doorway. There were cracks in the wall around it.
"What is going on?"
"They seek her," Arthur told him. "Nothing we can do will calm them. If they continue like this the entire building will fall on top of us."
Understandably so.
"Let me try."
Rhaegar approached the door. Sunfyre cried, stopped when she saw Rhaegar for the silver she mistook to be Naerys's, and let out a pained roar when she saw it wasn't.
He raised his hands in a placating manner. His sister's dragons watched him cautiously, stepping back slowly as he approached. Ēbrion bore his fangs at him but slowly lowered his head, recognising Rhaegar's scent. The prince, inch by inch, rested his hand against their snouts. Sunfyre quietly whimpered and, he might've been seeing things, he thought he saw sadness in the golden dragon's eyes.
Ēbrion let out a hollow groan that mimicked the sound of an echoing chamber, and the silver prince closed his eyes. He pressed his head against their snouts and shook, for the energy and life had gone from him, as the pain and numbness of grief descended on him.
