Fates Fire

Chapter 1

All those who rule know The Conqueror's dream.

The whispers of the Song of Ice and Fire passed from King to Heir before they sat on the Iron Throne, ruling the Seven Kingdoms. They all swore an oath to keep the Realm united, to protect from the winter that they knew, one day, would come. 

But few royals truly knew of the other dream that had plagued the mind of another Targaryen, all but forgotten by time.

A bastard, born of King Maegor's cruel desire, fathered after he had forced himself on his wife's own maid. The dream had come on her fifteenth name day, spilling from her lips as a prophecy, over and over, slowly driving her mad. It wasn't until the King had her head removed, growing tired of her relentless mutterings, that the dream stopped plaguing her. 

Death was her reprieve.

All memory of the Targaryen bastard left the minds of Royals mere weeks after her quick execution, the mutterings of her prophecy soon lost amid their lavish feasts as they fell into their cups and dug into their meat.

Yet her words echoed long after her body had been chucked in some nameless grave, rotting away and feeding the worms that came across her. They slipped through the halls of The Red Keep, whispered from servant to servant as the decades passed.

And, although her name was left behind in time, her legacy endured.

~

‘In the shadow of the dragon's wings,
Two hearts entwined, a bond that sings.
Born of fire and woven in fate,
A friendship forged that will not abate.

When the clash of kin sets the world ablaze,
In darkest nights and the brightest days,
One shall rise, a spark in the night,
A hidden truth in the heart's quiet fight.

Through love and loss, they walk the line,
Bound by blood, yet stars align.
In the end, shall their flames intertwine,
Or will the ashes of war cloud the divine?’

____________________________________

The sun was high in the sky, casting bright ray's across the large room and lighting up the stone walls. Rhaenyra Targaryen was sitting near one of the windows, a cool breeze floating in and soothing the warm sun that cast golden on her skin as she looked out upon the city of Kings Landing.

A city she would one day rule, along with the rest of the Realm.

Not many clear sounds could reach so high up but the gentle, unintelligible buzz of chattering crowds down below soothed her. It grounded her, reminded her of the people that would one day be her subjects. 

That would one day accept her as their Queen.

But the calm that washed so pleasantly along her skin never lingered for long. A small sound or a whispered word would take her attention from the stretching horizon, looking over her shoulder for a brief second and instantly weighing down her heart at the sight that met her everytime.

Elaera Velaryon, her eldest child and only daughter, sat on a lone cushion, watched by her handmaidens as she played with a wooden dragon.

It was a lovely toy, one that had been given to Elaera by Ser Harwin a few weeks after her birth. It had been whittled by his own hands in his free time, made and painted to look similar to Rhaenyra's own dragon, Syrax, and had been a favoured toy of Elaera's from the moment she could pick it up of her own will. 

By now the paint had mostly faded, the wooden toy having been vigorously played with over the last 5 years, but the joy it brought her stayed and the young girl loved it no less.