The song of ice and fire

Rhaelle's visions

Rhaelle

I’m back in Winterfell again, standing in the godswood, watching as my father throw snowballs at his brother Robb. They were so young and happy and I can’t help but smile as I watch them play. Father was only a boy then, around eight years old. Uncle Bran is with me, he’s standing a few feet away. In my dreams, he can walk and stand like any able bodied man.

“Come Rhaelle…” He calls me and I nod, following him as he walks into the mist. I turn around one last time, wanting to see Father. He is laughing like a happy boy and I smile, seeing that and for a while it is as if my father is smiling back at me.

The scene changes. We are in Essos, it’s much warmer here, I can feel the sun’s heat on my skin. We are in a garden and there’s a lemon tree there and a young girl who looks so much like me is running around it in circles. She giggles softly and I smile. Mama…

She is so beautiful even as a child. Everyone says I look like her and now I see the resemblance. I stand next to Uncle Bran and watch as my mother plays by herself in the garden.

“She’s happy…” I remark.

“We were all happy once upon a time. Most children are happy…” He says in that sagely distant voice of his.

“Childhood is supposed to be a happy time.”

I grow quiet and give a sympathetic smile. I know my Uncle had a hard childhood, Aunt Sansa had told me about it. He lost the use of his legs and his parents and brothers were murdered.

"Have you always been able to see things?” I ask him. Uncle Bran nods. “It’s in our blood, seeing visions….your father used to have them. He sees what his Wolf sees in his dreams.”

“None of my siblings have it.” I say casually. I look up into the sky. The sun is shining so brightly that I had to glint.

“Maybe you have more wolf in you than any of them.” Uncle Bran says. I keep quiet and look at the little girl. She is looking right at me, her violet eyes grow wide. I am as surprised as she is.

“Can she see me?” I ask my uncle.

“She’s not supposed to…” He answers. He doesn’t sound too sure.

Young Daenerys Stormborn blinks her eyes and shakes her head. She probably thinks it is nothing. Her mind is playing tricks on her. She goes on playing by herself again, humming a Bravoosi folksong. She is still an innocent child unaware of her great destiny just like the boy with raven curls, playing in the snow with his brother in Winterfell.

We are in another room, I recognize it as the Queen’s chambers in Red Keep. Though my mother never sleeps away from Father in the King’s chambers. I see my mother lying on the bed, her legs propped up, exposed, her tummy swollen with child. She is too pale and sweating badly. I see Grand Maester Tarly and a few maidservants and the midwife. They all look worried and exhausted. Father is there and I have never seen him looking so afraid in all my life.

“We can’t save them both….” the Grand Maester says to the King.

“Your Grace you have to choose…”

“I can’t!” He almost screams. Tears are welling up in his eyes.

I have never seen my father cry before. Even in my visions of him and his past, he never sheds a single tear. He isn’t smiling or joyful by nature and he broods too much like Aemon does but this is the first time that I see him so vulnerable. He’s afraid to lose her. I don’t know why I do it but I take Father’s hand and squeeze it tightly. I wonder if he feels it too. Uncle Bran sees that and shakes his head. I’m not allowed to touch people and things when I visit the past but for the moment I don’t care.

“Jon…” Grand Maester Samwell calls him softly.

“Save them Sam…You’re the only one who can. I can’t lose my wife…”

My mother’s screams of agony pierced through the room and I look at her as if I can feel her immense pain as well. She is strong and brave and she will survive this. I hate that I am the cause of her pain.

“Why are we here?” I ask Uncle Bran, not caring to hide the anger in my voice.

“This is where you were born.” He says simply.

“I know Mama almost died…” My voice has gone all soft. It’s strange to be in the same room witnessing my mother’s labour with me still inside her.

“Your father King Jon prayed to the Old gods for both of your lives. The Old gods can only save one.” He tells me.

“But both of us are still here…” I say to Uncle Bran.

“Are you?” He asks me back and I am confused. “You live between realms Rhaelle, don’t you realise? Why do you think I’m always in your dreams?”

“Because you want to show me things, the past and present…” I answer. That is the reason right? I’ve been having these dreams since I was a little girl. Uncle Bran bringing me to witness all these moments in my parents’ history and even before that.

“This is all part of your training. You’ll take over me when I’m gone…” He says and gives a secretive smile.

“Training?”

“You’re going to be the three eyed raven.” He tells me and then he is gone before I can ask more. Disappearing into thin air again like he always does.

I am still in the room, a little shaken and utterly confused. I watch as my mother grow weaker and losing more blood. The midwife is trying hard to turn the baby. I see my father’s anguished face as he holds Mama’s hand tightly and then I know I have to forgive him even before he asks me for it. I forgive him for his thoughts. That he’d want my mother to live if he has to choose between us. Because I know I would choose the same.