"You might not be interested in war but war is interested in you." -Odin
The First Targaryen Female who survived the War of the Usurper.
The untold story of how she came to survive her cruel brother, mischievous thieves, murders psychopaths, kings...
The day of her siblings embarked on their journey to Vaes Dothrak has been a tough one for Rhaenella.
She retired to her chambers and simply cried for the rest of the day.
Refusing to eat or open the door to anyone.
Alone and no one to talk to or could even come close to sympathize with her situation.
At night she stood at her balcony watching the city. The lighting of the brothels enchanting music and seductive voices, the laughter of men drinking at the pubs and the sound of children still out and about playing.
With her nightgown flowing swiftly by the light breeze of the night and her hair down from the braids.
The golden egg that she'd receive from Illyrio had been placed in a small bowl like box, a crimson pillow holding it from the bottom with five candles lit around the egg.
Her room dark with only the candles burning.
The sadness and loneliness had yet to diminish, causing her to miss two meals from her sadness.
But she forced herself to crawl under her covers and painfully search for slumber.
Although it never came, with the sound of her stomach now rumbling she flung herself off the bed. Wrapping her robe around her night gown she decided to make herself presentable before heading down to the kitchen.
Something in the back of her mind had been pulling her to stay in her chamber and ignore her stomach. But she was only as stubborn as a mule.
As she went out her room with the hallways lit by the elegant torches, sighing as she finally left burdens in the room.
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Walking to the kitchens didn't take very long.
She only meant to sneak in and steal a piece of the pie that had been served hopefully. Walking back to her chambers and have the servants take care of the rest in the morning.
Half way walking through the hallway she had realized that she should have just asked for a soldier down her chambers to ask one of the slaves to fetch her something. But there were no soldiers.
In fact the palace was very still. No noise what so ever.
When she walked to one of the balconies of the palace with the view of the city she lost oxygen in her lungs.
The sight before her was not something she had expected.
The city was ablaze, fire had sprout over night, the city burning. The longer she stared the faster the fire sprouted towards her. Frozen in place she failed to notice the riots and fighting of men closing into what she had learned to call home.
