Prologue

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It was quiet and dark, yet peaceful. Rhaella felt no need to panic, even though she could not remember how she had arrived there.

Her brown eyes held no curiosity as she sat on the ground and began humming. The onlooking gods exchanged a glance of understanding—she was the perfect candidate, and she had died a hero.

Stepping forward, they allowed themselves to be seen.

"Rhaella Lopez, do you know where you are?"

Hades was shocked when she simply smiled and nodded. "I'm dead, so I suppose I'm in purgatory, or some form of middle ground."

She was taking this a bit too well, but she had always known there was a chance she might die doing her job.

The Fates stepped forward, their three voices merging into one as they spoke. "You died a hero. Few have ever truly died a hero in our eyes."

To their surprise, she bowed before replying, "I died doing what any good person would do."

At last, two men stepped forward.

"She has proved herself worthy. We will mark her as ours."

Now, Rhaella was confused. Who were these men?

Sensing her bewilderment, they smiled.

"I am called the Many-Faced God—the god of death, some may say," one introduced himself.

The other stepped forward and helped Rhaella to her feet. "And I am the Lord of Light."

Suddenly, everything made sense.

"I suppose the Game of Thrones universe is real, and I'm being sent there?" she asked.

Seeing all the divines nod in confirmation, she simply accepted her strange fate.

"Thank you for the second chance. Will I get to keep my knowledge of my past life?"

They nodded once more before offering her a reassuring smile—and then all went black.

Dragonstone

The storm raged on as the Queen went into labour. Lightning struck the shore, and waves crashed against the walls with fury. This was the worst storm Westeros had ever seen. Heavy, dark clouds filled the sky, obscuring the moon, plunging the land into complete darkness.

And amidst the chaos, the youngest child of the Mad King was born.

Her cry was loud, and, unbeknownst to her, it echoed across the ruins of Valyria, reaching the creatures that ruled the sky.

She was the Stormborn child of dragons—the future Queen.

As she gazed upon the babe in her arms, the Queen smiled before gathering her strength.

"Her name shall be Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen."

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