Naveena TARGARYEN :||: Queen Series #3

The After

Rhaenys Targaryen passed in the night at the age of sixty after living a long life of peace and successfully reestablishing her family's dynasty that would last centuries until the realm of men evolved. The second Rhaenys body took its last breath, so did Aegon's. The two passing into the After together, two souls hand-in-hand.

Rhaenys blinked at the brightness that overwhelmed her vision, squinting out at what looked like a huge domed cathedral. The more she blinked, the more the room came into focus, with its high arched ceilings and slithers of glass that allowed the light to flow into the room. Looking around, Rhaenys couldn't see anything or anyone. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up on end, alerting her that there was someone watching.

Feeling a presence beside her, she swivelled round to find Aegon standing there, his gaze flicking around the room. To her surprise, he looked forty years younger, like it was only yesterday they'd conquered the seven kingdoms. He turned to her and blinked in surprise, then smiled fondly, giving her hand a squeeze.

"You made it."

Rhaenys turned to the sound of the voice and couldn't believe her eyes. Before, where no one had been standing, Jahal stood tall and lean, dressed in the traditional clothes he'd been wearing the first day they'd met, only a lot cleaner. A soft smile tugged at his lips and Rhaenys took a step towards him, Aegon letting her hand slide out of his. "Jahal?"

Aegon glanced towards the man, recognition in his eyes but did not make to stop Rhaenys as she took another hesitant step towards him before she was lunging for the man, embracing him tightly. The pair stayed like that for a second before pulling apart and Rhaenys opened her mouth to speak. "How–?"

Her own words cut off as she noticed the fourth person in the room. Standing beside Jahal, stood Robb. Aegon straightened and started towards his wife. She was frozen in shock, staring at him with an open mouth, unable to find words. Aegon came to stand in front of Robb, the brother he'd grown up with. He stood gaping at the Stark boy, words escaping him. Rhaenys was sure her heart would beat right out of her chest until... Hang on. She realised she didn't have a heartbeat and she wasn't breathing either.

Clutching a hand to her unmoving chest, she frowned. "Robb?"

Stepping towards her he held out a reassuring hand, his much larger hand closing over hers. "It's okay, Rhaenys, it's okay."

She looked up at him in confusion and a thought suddenly struck her. It sounded odd for Robb to be calling her Rhaenys, he'd never known her by that name. Robb smiled and nodded, taking a step back and his hand left hers. Rhaenys looked down at where he'd been touching her and noted the lack of warmth of his touch. Looking back up at him, she found him clutching onto a bundle, wrapped in a blanket. "Who's this?"

He looked at her with a soft gaze. "This is our daughter."

Rhaenys' body jolted with shock. They'd never had a daughter. What in seven hells was he talking about? Then Robb shifted the blanket concealing the bundle and she stared down at the face of a perfect, sleeping baby, her eyes shut tight. Rhaenys looked back up at Robb. "She wasn't this size when she died, how can this be?"

Aegon, it seemed, had cottoned on to what was happening, and gazed around. "Where are we?"

"It's called the After," Came a voice from across the room.

The pair whirled around towards the newcomer and both did a double-take. Across the room, stood Rhaenys, at least, someone who looked nearly identical to her. The real Rhaenys gasped, half-choking on the sob that rose to her throat. "Rhaella?"

The woman smiled. She looked to be in her early twenties but Rhaella had died at the age of four. Rhaenys let out a sob and then the two women were running towards each other, arms outstretched. Rhaella let her niece embrace her and cry into her shoulder, in joy and sorrow, for what the woman standing before her had sacrificed. "Oh, Rhaella, I've missed you," Rhaneys pulled back but didn't let her aunt go. "I'm so, so sorry you died."