᯽|—꧁*•𑁍•*꧂—|᯽

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐠𝐨 . . .

꧁*•𑁍•*꧂

A bolt of great blue-white lightning lit the world as bright as day, striking against the grassy cliffs of the old isle of dragonlords long since passed, echoed by a roar of thunder that quakes the very earth beneath–sending all of the hounds, even those midst King's Landing, howling through the night.

A heavy downpour fell from the starless sky as it tore itself apart that fateful night, the powerful gale sent from the gods themselves ripping gargoyles from ancient walls of melted stone as the sea surrounding Dragonstone smashed the Targaryens' fleet to mere kindling with waves taller than the extinct sea-dragons.

Even the ancient and glorious Dragonmont, older than the isle itself, was restless, rumbling in agitation, and the island trembled beneath its stirring wrath.

The grassy cliffs were drenched with the tears falling from the wailing sky–the dragons' domain...the very creatures born into the flesh of man that fell to the beasts of Westeros only hours beforehand.

All because of one prince's stupidity and one madman's greed.

Whilst within the stone keep of dragonlords, a scream ripped across the dark halls, emanating from the Queen Rhaella's bed chambers. Blood soaked the bed sheets so thickly the white fabric 'twere barely even noticeable beneath the viscous liquid. Perspiration dampened Rhaella's molten-silver locks to her ivory skin, and another scream fell from her trembling lips, hot tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

One of the Queen's handmaidens, whilst holding her sweet monarch's hand, gently dabbed a damp cloth across Rhaella's forehead, before tenderly stroking her silver hair away from her violet eyes–which were clenched shut in sheer agony–as the last Targaryen Queen wailed as loud as the cries tumbling from the raging sky beyond the narrow windows.

"You're doing great, my Queen." The elderly Maester praised. And not a few seconds after, a cry echoed throughout the Queen's chamber.

The Maester brought the little pink babe into his arms, another of the handmaidens gathered midst the room, that reeks of metallic blood and salt, giving the aged man a blanket–coated in the red dragons of House Targaryen–to wrap the wailing babe within.

The Lady of Dragonstone has a daughter.

The girl is laid within her mother's awaiting arms, the maiden beside the Queen fluffing the pillows so poor Rhaella may lean against the headboard comfortably as she gazed at her beautiful daughter. Finally, she thought to herself, a little princess. The babe's wails soon softened into sweet coos as young lilac eyes recognized their mother smiling over her.

"Daenerys...Daenerys Stormborn will be her name."

As if the sweet girl understood every word that fell from her mother's lips, Dany giggled and lifted her small, chubby hands toward Rhaella's damp locks, and began to play with the long silver strands.

It 'twere a beautiful moment between mother and daughter, 'til Rhaella released a scream of utter pain, frightening the young babe in her arms, whom began to wail once again as the Maester rushed over to the Queen. "What is it, Your Grace?"

".. A-Ano-ther... there–.. there is–... another..." Rhaella just barely spoke through ragged breaths.

The maiden beside her beloved Queen took young Dany into her arms, softly hushing sweet nothings to soothe the babe as she left Rhaella's chambers, whilst the Maester stood at the end of the bed as his aged eyes analyzed the Queen's cunny. He then announced to the remaining handmaidens within the chambers that the Lady of Dragonstone were going to birth twins that night.

Blood began to pour from the wailing Targaryen Queen as another roar of thunder struck the skies, the squall smacking against the walls of the old keep, and the man's thick grey brows creased when the babe would not come. Only to come to the grim realization that the babe were trapped within it's mother's womb, and his voice shook with sorrow as he announced this, "Your Grace, the babe will not come. It is breached."

"T–... Take it–.. it... o-out, Mae-.. Maester." Rhaella sobbed. "Now!" She yelled through her panting breaths and screams of agony that echo louder than the storm outside when she noticed the old man's hesitance.

With sorrow marring his elderly features, the Maester bowed his head in acceptance to what would be his Queen's last wish. As he grasped the scalpel, one of the handmaidens left the room with a sob, not wanting to witness the brutal event about to befall her beloved Queen.

Through a deep inhale of the brimstone laden air of Dragonstone, the old man looked to the beautiful Queen Rhaella, a figure of grace and strength for all her young life, for acceptance, the knife held within his unwavering grasp. Rhaella softly bowed her head in a light nod at the Maester with tears cascading down her cheeks, "I want it.. to live... please."

With those final words spoken, the man respectfully bowed his head, dotted with withering aged hairs, with a muttered, "My Queen." before bringing the scalpel to Rhaella's womb, and cutting into the ivory skin.

Rhaella shrieked in sheer agony, and her dying screams would haunt all of those whom heard for the rest of their days, as the Maester delved into her belly and pulled out a blood-soaked babe.

One of the maidens laid a blanket over the Queen's lower-half, even still defending Rhaella's modesty as she breathed her last.

The chambers were eerily silent, even the storm fell silent for the Targaryen babe, whilst the remaining two maidens held either of Rhaella's hands, feeling the life and warmth of her blood fading with every silent second that felt like forever passed.

As if 'twere an answer from the gods, the babe began to wail and squirm in the elderly Maester's grasp as thunder rumbled beyond the walls.

The Lady of Dragonstone has another daughter.

The old man brought the babe to the dying Queen's bedside, whose pale lips lifted with a soft smile when the Maester presented to Rhaella her second daughter.

Bright violet eyes stared wide at their mother, and with her dying breath, Queen Rhaella of House Targaryen named her last daughter,

"Rhaenerys... oh, little Rhae..."

The Lady of Dragonstone, the beloved Queen the noble and common alike adored, took her last breath upon her birthing bed, and sorrow seeped into the hearts of those loyal servants to the Targaryens. Little Rhae began to wail in the old man's arms.

The maidens covered Queen Rhaella's body with a clean sheet, silent tears falling from their eyes, then one of them approached the Maester to bring Rhaenerys into her arms, hushing sweet things to quiet the heartbreaking wails of little Rhae.

"What will happen to them?"

"I will have Ser Willem take the twins, and Viserys, across the sea...to a place far from the reaches of Robert's vengeance."

__________ ❁𖢻❁ __________