Chapter Text
I
Aemma Targaryen woke up with a startle, sitting up straight, covering her stomach with both hands subconsciously.
However, her supposedly cut-open, bloody belly was actually intact, and flat.
There was no pain at all.
Was that a nightmare?
She breathed heavily.
That was terrible.
And where was her babe? Was it already born or…?
“It is not a nightmare.”
Aemma gasped in shock, looking around, trying to find where this strange voice came from. And she realized she was not in her room any more instead she was sitting alone in some place surrounded by greyish fog.
The floor beneath her was hard and cool to the touch.
“Who are you? Where am I?”
“We are the blood of your blood, the beginning of the legend of Dragons. And, you are in somewhere between the Realm of Life and the Realm of Death.”
Another softer voice rang up above her head.
“You are the Valyrian Gods? You are real?” Aemma could not believe what she was experiencing.
“Depends on whether you believe in us or not.” A thick and hoarse voice answered her.
She was one of their descendant of course she believed in fourteen flames and all that.
“Are you going to bring me to the Realm of Death?”
Of course she was dead. Aemma, you silly woman. She chuckled ironically. How could one so frail like her survive a knife slicing open the belly without any medicine’s help?
She even did not get to say goodbye to her baby girl, her beautiful Rhaenyra, telling her the last time that how much she loved her.
A single drop of tear slide down her cheek.
She hurt. She raged. She hated.
“My poor child. Save your self-pity. You are a Dragon. Put away your weakness. We stopped your soul going into the Realm of Death, because you are our chosen one.” A gentle voice uttered.
Aemma raised her head looking confusedly to the direction the voice came from.
She only saw thick fog.
“It’s not your TIME yet. Your life was cut short by other’s decisions. It’s not your fault that death came to you that early. You should have lived a long life.”
“What do you mean that I am the chosen one?”
Aemma was confused. She recalled back then, once, Viserys, cursed him, said in a dreamy way that the Prince That is Promised would come from their line and that their son would continue Targaryens’ glory.
“We choose you to help make sure that the future of the Dragons shines bright. We need you to lead them to the right way. Targaryens are dangerously close to the path of self-destruction.” A childish voice sadly stated.
Aemma circled her arms around her knees, hugging herself tightly.
“Me? What do you see in me to put such important mission onto my shoulders?”
“Aemma, my child, you can choose not to follow the Gods’ will then we will send you straight to the Realm of Death and give you your peace.” A firm voice said,
“But, you have to be aware that your daughter’s fate is tied to House Targaryen’s doom. Her death would be painful and miserable and bring the downfall of the Dragons.”
Rhaenyra? No… Not her daughter…
But…
“How would I save them? Save her? Everyone will die in the end.”
“Die by burning alive you mean? Your daughter and most of her offspring would not die peacefully if you did not interfere.” A girly voice rang up.
“What?” Aemma shakenly murmured.
How? Why? Why her daughter had to suffer like her? It’s not fair.
“The situation is complicated and urgent. Make your choice.” One of the Gods annoyingly urged her.
“Not my daughter…” Aemma was deep in her thought. She thought Viserys, cursed him thousands times over, would take good care of their only remaining child.
“She is a Princess. She is well-loved, even spoiled rotten. Her uncle and father will not let anything happen to h…”
“Poor child. The twin flame of yours… He is the one will make your daughter’s life miserable later. He already did that by brutally murdering you. The decisions he made and will make would contribute to the doom of your House. Do you not want to help her, to stabilize her claim to the Iron Throne? The ONE That is Promised will come from her bloodline.”
“Her claim to… No way. She is a…” Aemma hated to say out loud that her daughter could not do something or become someone because of her gender, “Viserys did not name her heir.” Not to her knowledge at least.
In her heart, her Rhaenyra could be anyone, anything and more. She was her miracle. A wonder of her life. Her hope in human form. A quite beautiful one. She smiled when she thought of her daughter. How she missed her.
Tear drops slid down her face.
“He did. After your funeral. But that did not help.” A raspy voice chimed in.
“Not help much though.” The childish one concluded.
“He did that, most of all, for his guilty of neglecting her and for the memory of you.”
“He did not prepare her well enough to face what’s about to come.”
The Gods’ voices were everywhere.
Aemma heard their every word.
She hated Viserys for taking her away from Rhaenyra for good.
She did not want to see him ever again.
She cursed his soul. Hope he would be the one that burnt alive.
But she could not leave her little girl alone, helpless to face all the hardship. She had to do something.
Aemma slowly stood up, raising her hand to get some attention from the Gods. Hope they will see that through this invisible fog.
“Um… My Gods. Please send me back. I choose to follow your instruction.” She tried to sound confident.
The bravest choice she ever made in her short life.
“Good.”
In a split moment, a towering figure dressed in all black with a dragon-head-like mask covering their face appeared in front of Aemma, the fog surrounding them fading away.
“My… God.” Aemma knelt down, lowering her head.
“My child. We will bless your soul and recreate your burnt-to-ashes body. Once it’s done, you will be sent back to the living world which you just left mere days ago.”
“What?” Aemma frowned. She thought the Gods were talking about sending her soul or consciousness back into the living body of hers before her tragic death. If what they would do was the deal, then that meant she would reborn from her ashes? That did not make any sense for how could the people in living world view her?
“They will view you as a miracle. A Gods’ mercy showed in human form. House Targaryen born from Dragon Fire and will die in Dragon Fire. And if need be, you shall return from ashes. We would not grant you this great opportunity had House of the Dragon not been walking into its own destruction step by step.”
“What if I failed?” Aemma sincerely asked.
“No. You will not.” The black figure firmly answered.
Aemma nodded and stood up with her chin held high. She wiped her tears away, ready to welcome her reborn.
Don’t be afraid, Aemma. You are a Dragon! You can do it. For Rhaenyra’s sake! She encouraged herself in her mind.
“The recreation will take some time.”
Just like that, the figure stepped up, a long and thin finger covered by black Dragon scales with its pointing spot dyed red reaching out, lightly rest at the spot between her two eyebrows.
Aemma closed her eyes, feeling warmth slowly forming in the place the Gods’ finger tapped at.
She felt a warm breeze embraced her and…
She fell down.
The moment she hit against a hard surface, the Gods’ distant and ethereal voice chanted:
“From Ashes the Dragon shall return; May the Dragon thrive in Eternity.”
Aemma’s head hurt, her heart beating faster than ever. Her body ached from the hit, soreness spreading to her limbs.
The bright day light caused a stabbing pain in her eyes, so she squeezed her eyes closed harder.
She was lying on her side on the ground, carefully moving her muscles to check if they could function. And gradually she sat up, opening and closing her fingers, flexing her wrists, slightly kicking her legs. The pain was fading. Everything seemed went well. Aemma looked up after her eyes got used to the light. It seemed the Gods dropped her from the sky or wherever that was because she noticed that her fall smashed down some branches. It indeed was a miracle that she survived the fall.
The sound of somebody’s heavy steps and horses’ neigh and their tapping feet made Aemma frozen in place.
Someone was coming her way. She alertly looking around, trying to find a place to hide but found none. Apparently she dropped into a woods. There was nothing but thin trees.
Aemma took a long breath. She hoped, that someone was good enough to not hurt her and help her find the way back to King’s Landing.
Someone stopped several feet away from her. Aemma had her back turned to them.
“Who’s there?” A familiar voice questioned.
Is that…?
Then she heard some muffled words and realized, that someone had a company.
In their hushed conversation Aemma caught the name of her daughter:
“Rhaenyra, you stay here…”
Rhaenyra?
Aemma beamed with teary eyes. She missed her daughter so much. Could she be that lucky to reunite with her baby that soon?
She did not notice someone was stood right behind her until Daemon’s voice rang up:
“Woman, what happened? Why are you here in the woods alone?”
Aemma exhaled with relief. Now she did not need to worry about finding way back to King’s Landing.
When she turned her head to her cousin and good-brother, Aemma saw Daemon’s expression changed from wary to shock with his jaw dropped and eyes widened. He seemed speechless, his mouth opening and closing.
A long moment felt like a year later:
“Aemma?”
“Uncle, what’s wrong…” Rhaenyra was by her uncle’s side in a few strides.
When Aemma locked her eyes with her daughter’s, she saw her daughter frozen up and the same expression Daemon made appeared on her face.
“What the hell is going on? Am I imaging you up or…”
Aemma interrupted Daemon’s shocking mumbling with:
“Rhaenyra, I…” She stood up but a sharp pain in her head made her lose her sights in mere seconds.
Aemma fell into darkness.
TBC