The Flame That Never Was

She never drew a breath in their world.
Yet by the end of the vision... they would all ache for her.

A feast unfolds in a flickering hall filled with laughter, joy, and the fragile illusion of peace. Laena Velaryon's womb carries new life, Daemon Targaryen stands restored by her side, and Rhaenyra Targaryen cradles her third son. The realm holds its breath.

Then-time stops.
The gods-or something older-speak. And they do not offer blessing, but memory... of a world that never was.

There, from a fractured union with Rhea Royce, Daemon fathered a daughter: Vaelora Targaryen. Born of bitterness, raised with grace, she becomes the ember that softens the forge.

She is clever, but not cruel.
Bold, but not reckless.
And in her quiet, radiant defiance, she rewrites the stories others accepted as fate.

She is not a conqueror. She is not crowned. Yet kingdoms shift in her wake.
Her words challenge doctrine. Her gaze unravels deceit. Her compassion turns enemies into allies.

In this vision, the realm is not ruled, but healed.
Enemies speak. Brothers stay brothers.
And dragons soar not to destroy, but to protect.

In her world, dragons are not only weapons, but companions. Duty does not silence the soul. And love-dangerous, defiant love-is not punished, but honored.

As the gathered nobles watch her life unfold, something ancient stirs within them-regret, longing, love. For a daughter who never was. For a future they never earned.

And for Daemon, it is a slow, devastating truth:
By ending one life, he may have denied the world the only one who could have saved it.

One question remains:
If a single girl could change the world... why did they deny her the chance?