What happens when Rhaenyra and Daemon's night in the brothel turned out to be more than what the princess admitted to? What happens when a child is conceived that night? What happens when that child is a girl, born the perfect image of a Targaryen p...
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It was just after dawn, and the soft light of the morning was beginning to creep through her windows, when Visaera woke, screaming in agony. Years had passed since she had experienced such a vision; she had almost forgotten how they felt. She had been burning, swallowed by flames, pain coursing through her as though she were actually on fire.
A sob ripped itself from her jaws, as she rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to soothe the heat coming from her skin. As she had so many times before, she took a deep breath and tried to remind herself that it was only a dream; that her visions couldn't hurt her...
And yet, she could still feel the heat simmering beneath her skin; she could see the steam that swirled around her from the sheer warmth her body was emitting.
She tugged on her trousers and a flannel top, not even bothering to lace her boots in her haste to dress. Ser Jaunton was fast asleep when she opened her door, his chin resting on his chest plate as he snored softly. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, a soft smile gracing her face. Some guard...
Outside, it was cool and the air soothed her angry skin as she made her way across the grounds. The Godswood had always brought her peace and she immediately made it her destination, gulping down the damp morning air.
It was quiet. Mornings in the Red Keep always had a strange calm to them; it was one of the reasons she had loved them as a child. Birds had just begun to sing but the walls around the keep cast a grey shadow over everything, giving her surroundings a sleepy feel.
When she finally reached the Godswood, she paused in front of the great Weirwood tree and stared up at the leaves, a bleeding contrast to the pale light of the dawn. Not knowing what compelled her to do it, she stepped over the wide roots and ran her fingers over the trunk, feeling the texture of the bark. Peace had yet to find her; instead, she felt like something unseen was calling out to her, encouraging her to continue. She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the crying face on the tree, intending to pray, something she never did, and immediately regretted it...
Her eyes were searing with a pain she had never experienced before as flashes of white-hot light separated the scenes that flicked through her mind. A dizzying wave of nausea wracked her body and yet her grip tightened against the bark of the tree. With each moment she saw, a pang of emotion coursed through her, making them nearly tangible. Her mother, younger than she was now, was commanding Syrax to light a pyre as sorrow and loss swept over her. Then Rhaenyra and Dameon were pressed against a wall, desire pulsing in the air. Another sight, Ser Criston Cole arguing with her mother; a look on his face that was easily recognized as jealousy.
On and on the scenes flashed behind her eyes, until she began seeing things that she knew had not happened yet. With every fleeting scene, the pain in her eyes increased until she finally screamed, her lungs aching as if she had been crying for hours. The images and feelings that followed were worse, much worse, horrifying, even... Screams and dragons and fire and blood. Her entire body was convulsing as the visions coursed through her like lightning; her nails still digging into the bark of the tree as she grew faint.
