The Last Targaryens

Chapter 33 - The Prophecy

Her eyes drifted closed, and before she knew it, she stood in the Throne room of the Red Keep. The Dragon banners blowing as the winter air brushed against them, as the snow fell softly down upon Daenerys as she looked up at the burnt broken roof that once magnificently hanged overtop of the Iron Throne. As she looked around, she noticed that the throne room was set up for a coronation, but not just any coronation though, the coronation of her first born son, Prince Raegon, yet not a single soul stood in the throne room. A coronation was always filled with people, with laughter and cheering, as their future Prince is finally crowned King, yet is was silent where she stood, at the very end of the throne room, facing the Iron Throne. As she took her face from glaring at the the once beautiful ceiling, now turned into ash, she faced towards the throne, where a showdowed figure sat upon it. Daenerys' face appeared a bit with a smile, taking a sigh of relief that yet the castle was torn apart, her son still took his rightful place on the Iron Throne. She couldn't speak, but she made her way closer to her son, her smile becoming larger and larger as she saw his face clearer and clearer, but as she finally saw his full appearance, she fell immediately to her knees, her smile turning into despair. Raegon wasn't sitting on the throne, rather his lifeless body was barely hanging onto the Iron Throne, his own blood dripping from his body into the white snow below his feet. She wanted to scream, yet she wasn't able too, she couldn't even move her body, she was forced to see what sat in front of her. As she looked into her sons eyes, his crown fell off his head, almost in slow motion. It bounced from one step to the other, echoing in the entire room, before it slowly rolled right in front of her,  stopping in its tracks. As she stared at it, she finally reached for the golden dragon sigil crown, that once sat upon her sons head. As she grasped the crown, she dropped it immediately, it was frozen solid, ice wringing around it almost like a Thorne of roses taking something once beautiful, and turning it into darkness. As she dropped the crown, she looked up once more, her body almost shaking in fear, but a growl had risen from out behind the throne, before appearing a large shadow of scales. She knew exactly what it was, for it was a dragon, but just as she could finally move, the mouth of the dragon opened, preparing to burn her into ashes, but blue flames appeared inside the beasts mouth, which she had only seen once, when the Night King rode on top of Viserion during the Long Night. She couldn't believe her eyes, but before her life would have been ended, and her son burned along in the destruction, a whisper of a devious voice shuddered the chilling words, Dreams didn't make me a King, Dragons did...

And just like that, Dany's eyes flew open, flinging herself forward from off of her bed. 

Daenerys immediately grabbed her fur cloak from the wooden desk chair, wrapping it around her body before leaving her chambers, towards the outer railings of Winterfell. As she made her way to the railings, clinging onto them with her warm hands, she hung over it, barely able to breathe, the dreams have been getting worse ever since that day 14 years ago when Jaime noticed that Raegon wasn't just a rumour, for her was real, and a physical threat to his sons throne. But these dreams were no longer just dreams, for they were physical, she could now finally feel the atmosphere, she could touch the items, the people could touch her, she wasn't just psychologically present, she was apart of it, as if it were prophecy, as if she has lived it. Her breathe formed as she breathed it out into the cold air, staring out into the vast North that laid ahead, but her breathe began to slow down as she found herself staring at her first children, her dragons, Drogon and Rhaegal, flying in the night sky. As Dany stared at them flying over Winterfell, she remembered the dream, she remembered the blue flames, which didn't make sense, since the Night King was killed many years ago by Arya in the Long Night, yet in the dream, there it stood, Viserion, with his blue flames emerging behind her dead son upon the Iron Throne. Dany shook her head, breathing deeply again, for these dreams have caused great stress upon her, she feels she has aged a million years from it. The anxiety and panic attacks that raged inside her most days, she couldn't escape them, yet she could only push through them, but something about them were a serious threat, she knew it, she could feel it, she felt it 14 years ago as she held Raegon in her arms, but now they grew closer and closer, for the time was coming, she didn't know what, but something is going to happen, maybe not to her, but to her children, yet not a single soul of the Kingdom, her advisors, nor even Jon, knew of her dreams, she suffered alone with them, yet it was taking over her slowly, she was changing, and the air was drifiting colder each day, as if, Winter was returning.