A Tale of Kings, Queens and Bastards

Prologue

Welcome to the rewritten version of Sweet Sister! In this version, the timelines aren't so all over the place; there's only one major change to the timeline.

In the television series, the Mad King died in 280 AC. In Valar Morghulis, he died in 283 AC, making the events in Game of Thrones begin 15 years after Robert's Rebellion instead of 17, like the television series.

If you're new to this book, welcome and enjoy!

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Dragonstone, 281 AC.

  Flames from the burning candles danced in the howling wind. Lightening clapped like clashing swords and thunder boomed like thousands of hoof beats, the elements echoing throughout the corridors of Dragonstone.

Viserys jumped, frightened by the storm, and his mother, Rhaella, grabbed his small hand. In a matter of seconds, he no longer feared the storm, but of the outcome of his soon-to-be brother or sister's delivery. He looked at his mother: skin as pale as a dead man that is coated in sweat from the hard labour she's endured, while blood covered her lower region.

  One of Rhaella's handmaidens came scurrying back inside, fresh cloth in hand to wipe away the queen's sweat. She handed it to Viserys.

  He dipped it in the pail of water by her bedside, wrung the cloth, and laid it across his mother's forehead. Viserys teared up and looked at the baby bump —she got paler by the minute.

  Queen Rhaella shook his hand, to gain his attention. A tear slid down his cheek as he met her gaze. "Please, do not leave me, mother," his voice cracked, heartbroken. He didn't miss the not-so subtle glance she had given —the queen knew her fate, and somewhere deep inside, Viserys knew as well.

  She gave the most gentlest smile, violet eyes as glossy as her son's, "No matter what happens tonight, you need to protect your brother or sister. Do you understand me?" She allowed a single teardrop to leak from a violet eye.

  Viserys nodded, pink lips parted, but they slammed closed. "You have to push harder, Your Grace," the handmaiden urgently instructed Queen Rhaella.

  She looked to her handmaiden. "Remember what I said." The handmaiden smiled softly and nodded, and the queen looked at her son once more. "I love you, my son. You have grown into a fine young boy. Remember the names." She brought Viserys's hand to her lips and kissed it softly, as thunder boomed.

  Rhaella let her lips linger for a moment then gave a big push, screaming in pain as she squeezed Viserys's hand. An infant's cry broke through her screams and the storm that raged.

  Lightning crashed as the handmaiden wrapped the bloodied babe in a blanket to clean it before handing her to Rhaella, smiling. "It's a girl, Your Grace."

  The queen released the prince's hand, reached for her newborn daughter, and held the babe in her final moments. "Stormborn—for she was born in the storm," she told Viserys, exhaustion laced in her words.

  "Daenerys Stormborn," Viserys said. Queen Rhaella took his hand again, looked at Daenerys, and sighed a final breath. Heart thumping rapidly, Viserys shook her, "Mother? No, mother. MOTHER!" he screamed, and Daenerys cried.

The handmaiden came to Viserys in a quick manner. "You have to go, prince. Take Daenerys with you and go to the docks. There, you will find a group of loyalists—they are expecting you and the newborn princess."