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[---]
Unknown time, Unknown Place
He looked at its source and saw that it belonged to the egg, for there was a faint crack that leaked a bright light. The crack began to spread outward, very quickly, until finally, the shell parted, and Daemon could see no more, for the world was swallowed by light.
Daemon Targaryen blinked his eyes open in confusion. His head throbbed as if he had received a mace to the helmet. It was only then that he realised that he was kneeling, and with a quick look, he looked around and saw that he was back in the Capital, specifically in the throne room, given the thousands of swords that remained in this place.
He could not help but wonder why he felt surprised by such a thing. Why wouldn't he be in the Capital? No… He could feel it in his gut; something was terribly wrong. He quickly realised what it was when he tilted his head up and froze as he did not see his brother sitting terribly on the Iron Throne, one who had lost an arm to his illness, but a familiar face, one that he thought he would never see again, that of Baelon Targaryen, his father.
His father was looking at him with pride in his eyes, as he spoke up to both him and the realm after him, "You have served the Iron Throne with honour, and brought glory and vengeance, against the Dornish who dared spill the blood of our family. You have brought justice to your brother, and I am sure that he would be as proud of you as I am. Alas, the time to mourn is past us, and now, we must move past Viserys's death. It is why I name you my heir, before the realm to witness, may you rule after me as your brother would have, with honour and wisdom."
Daemon felt as if the entire world was spinning around him, for this must have been a dream of some sort. And yet, he felt the entire procession of lords staring at him expectantly, as did his father, and he found himself uttering the words that he had not thought he would say ever in his life, "I will not disappoint you, Father."
"I know you will not, my son."
The next few hours were a blur of greetings and congratulations by the wretched lords of the realm, from the Starks to the Lannisters. They were all looking at him with awe and respect, and perhaps a slight twinge of fear.
It was completely and utterly strange, and despite it all, as the Lords began to feast and dance, Daemon walked out of the throne room, his legs taking him instinctively to the Godswood. In the distance, yet he did not know why he chose this place. At least, that had been the plan before a servant tripped onto him, making them both fall down. The Rogue Prince looked at the young servant in surprise and froze as he saw familiar green eyes appear in them, "This isn't real, Daemon."
Daemon did not know why these strange green eyes terrified him so, but he immediately grasped Dark Sister, ready to unsheathe it, only to freeze as her saw the terrified form of a stranger, whose eyes happened to be brown, and who was apologising to him vehemently.
The prince shook his head and muttered useless words to calm the servant, and continued walking towards the Godswood, stopping only when he arrived near the Godswood. He waved the Kingsguard who had followed him away, "I wish to be alone."
Both knights hesitated for a moment before obeying his orders and walking him away. He felt strange, not knowing why he felt so drawn to the Godswood, and yet he did not know why he was. He needed to gather his thoughts. They were all so chaotic. What had happened to Viserys? How was his father still alive? Who was this person with green eyes?
He kept staring at the Godswood, trying to answer impossible questions, until he felt the footsteps of someone behind him. He then spoke up, "I thought that I asked to be left alone."
"Should I feel disappointed that you do not wish for my company, then, husband?" a familiar impossible voice spoke up behind him.
He turned faster than he ever had before and breathed out, "Laena."
Because here she was, his wife, the woman that he had loved for so long, the woman who he had seen die in childbirth, the woman who had brightened his life when everything had felt darker, the woman who he had once thought to be a replacement for Rhaenyra and yet became so much more than that.
Laena Velaryon stared at him, her violent eyes glittering the way they often had whenever she felt amused, "Ah, that is a much better reaction, is it not, Daemon. I would be remiss not to congratulate my husband on his day of victory, wouldn't I?"
Something inside Daemon told him that this was impossible, that the grief he had felt in her death was too true to be some kind of dream, and yet, he wished more than anything that Laena had truly been standing more than that.
Before he could say anything, tell her how much he loved her, how much he missed her, or perhaps accuse her of a mummer, Laena jumped into his embrace and kissed him. That act alone removed any thoughts of mummery from his mind, for he knew without any doubt that this was Laena, his Laena.
This was Laena, truly, and without any doubts, and Daemon found himself getting lost in her eyes, as he had during their adventures in Essos after their marriage. She smiled at him, "Our children have been asking for you. Your mother has been entertaining them for now, but they can only spend so much time away from their precious Kepa."
That last sentence brought Daemon short, especially when she continued, "My mother…"
"Yes. I think she requires some comforting. I know that she and Viserys were not as close as you two are, but she has just lost her son."
His mother? His mother was still alive. How could she possibly be alive? She had died on the birthing bed, for a younger brother who did not see his first nameday. Daemon had been a child when she died, but her loss had been felt for many years.
And so, despite himself, he let Laena guide him back through the chambers. As he does so, he feels the world suddenly slow down, and a snowy white owl appears before him. Before Daemon could question what happened and why he felt a deep fear for an owl of all things, the damned bird spoke, "Daemon, I can't hold on here for too long. You need to get out and quickly, before you forget."
Daemon frowned. The voice was familiar for some reason. He could almost feel it, at the tip of his tongue, and yet, he did not know why this voice scared him so. He was the Crown Prince, a prince of the blood, the rider of Caraxes, the bane of Dorne, and yet, he was afraid of a bird of all things, "What…"
"Remember, Daemon! This isn't real!" The owl repeated.
Daemon felt something touch his arm, and he turned to see Laena giving him a concerned look, "Is everything well, my love?"
When the Rogue Prince turned back towards the owl, it was nowhere to be seen, and it was then that he realised that time had returned to normal.
He was truly going mad, seeing disappearing talking birds of all fucking things. He looked at Laena's face, and he knew that she would not call him mad, nor would she laugh at the strangeness that filled this day. There were things that he constantly misremembered, things that surprised him that should not, things that should not be, and the strange creature, the owl, the servant with the green eyes that made the world feel so utterly wrong.
He took a deep breath and decided to answer her, "I suppose that…"
Whatever he planned on saying completely disappeared from his mind the moment he heard it. It was a familiar sound, one that Daemon thought he had forgotten so long, a song in High Valyrian that had always remained with him, in the back of his mind. The voice that sang it was soft, familiar, and it made Daemon relax despite himself.
It was the most beautiful sound that he had heard in his life.
Daemon walked inside the room of its origin, following its sound, almost transfixed by it, before looking at its source, his heart thundering when his violet eyes met the singer's mismatched own. These eyes belonged to a woman with a crooked nose, like it had been broken many times before, and Daemon knew instinctively who this was, Alyssa Targaryen, his mother, "Muña."
Alyssa Targaryen stopped singing for a moment, "Ah, Daemon. I had not expected you for some time after your ascension. Did you get bored with the lickspittles already?"
Daemon did not say anything, for he did not know what to say. This woman was a stranger to him, but something inside him, in his blood, told him that he loved her utterly and completely; a part of her felt warm at being near her.
It was a strange and aching feeling, for the memory of her death lay heavy in his heart, carved there by grief in the days of his childhood; and yet here she stood before him, living and breathing.
Alyssa Targaryen continued staring at him expectantly, with these terrifying mismatched eyes, "Has the Crown Prince lost his tongue? I thought you were a man of many words when you wished to be."
Daemon did not know when he had begun walking forward, only that he had. He opened his arms and took his mother into his embrace, clinging to her as if his life depended on it. His mother seemingly froze for but a moment before returning her embrace, stroking his back in a way that almost made him melt.
She smiled at him when they ended their embrace, "This is certainly a greeting fit for a queen. I do hope that war is not a necessary requirement for you to embrace me, so else I shall have you conquer Essos after you are finished with these wretched Dornish."
Daemon snorted despite himself. He had heard tales of his mother; of the way she certainly did not conform to the Seven Kingdoms' definitions of a lady. He could almost hear Queen Alysanne's scandalised gasp before her death.
However, something on his face must have shown, as he saw his mother's eyes narrow, "Something troubles you…"
Daemon opened his mouth and instinctively looked down. It was only then that he realised that his mother was singing to a babe. His babe. How had he forgotten about his child? This was his youngest son with Laena, was it not?
"Viserys," he uttered the name, remembering it. He had named him in honour of the brother he had lost.
His mother stiffened at the name, "You mustn't blame yourself, Daemon. The Dornish are the ones who killed him, and there was little you could have done about that. And didn't you repay this slight a thousand-fold?"
Something in that statement made Daemon feel… strange, as if a pit in his stomach had suddenly grown. He had not had the time to question what it was before he heard small footsteps move towards him, and he instinctively turned to see a young Valyrian boy, his boy, running at him with a toy wooden sword in his hands, "Kepa!"
The name came immediately to his mind: Aegon, Daemon's firstborn son with Laena. He immediately grasped the running boy, holding him in the air, making him giggle in delight, "How is my little dragon today?"
"Very hungry," the boy answered, and Daemon chuckled at that.
From behind him, the familiar forms of Baela and Rhaena, with the latter speaking up, "He bit Maester Mellos' hand."
What followed was some bickering, with Laena scolding their firstborn son about his behaviour, and Daemon had a smile on his face that had never been on his face since the day Laena died.
Why would Laena be dead? She was sitting in front of him, tidying Baela's hair, who had likely secretly gone to practice with a sword, alongside her grandmother, in the morning. Truly, both were extremely similar.
Something was wrong there… Something was very wrong…
Just as she thought, the world froze once more, as if time had come to a halt completely. And there it was, again, that damned owl, flying and landing atop his son's crib, and spoke up, "Thank fuck… Daemon, I need you to focus, alright? Do you see how serious I am? That should tell you how serious this is."
"What manner of demon are you?" Daemon uttered, having unsheathed Dark Sister in defence against an owl of all things.
"For fuck's sake. He must be very deep in," he heard the owl mumble, before its voice spoke up, "Alright, Daemon… My name is Harry Potter, and you are stuck in a world that is not your own."
A flash of green appeared in Daemon's eyes, a memory of a terrifying man with glowing green eyes, who had destroyed Harrenhal in a second, "The sorcerer."
"Exactly. Look, I need you to trust me. This world isn't real. You need to get out of here and as quickly as you can, before you forget who you are."
"How?" he uttered.
"It's a pruned timeline, Daemon, a possibility, an echo of something that could have been but never was, but never could be, and who time hadn't caught up with, and believe me, it will, it has, it always does… It will be erased, and it won't be pretty, and if you don't leave, you will, too."
Daemon growled at that, "My wife is here, my father, my mother, my children… They are my home, and I will not leave them… I can never leave them…"
"Daemon, for crying out loud! This is not the time for this. The more you accept this reality as yours, the more time you spend in it, the more you will be entrenched in it, and the harder it is for me to get you out."
"I will not have some demon spout our lies about my life," Daemon snarled out at the mere thought that he would abandon his family, that they were false in some way.
The owl seemed to start saying something, and the Rogue Prince lashed out, "Begone, demon!"
Dark Sister cut through the air in a swift arc. The blade passed through the owl as though through mist, which was not exactly inaccurate, given that the creature disappeared into a silver mist.
The moment the mist vanished, the world returned to normal, and he noticed his family staring at him, having his sword drawn, suddenly falling to silence. Laena was the first to speak, "Daemon?"
It took him a moment to realise how it must have looked to them. He quickly sheathed Dark Sister once more and muttered, "Nothing… I need to clear my mind."
He could feel their eyes lingering on him, questioning, worried. It made something twist unpleasantly in his chest, and before anyone could speak again, he turned and walked out of the chamber.
He refused to think about what the creature had said.
This world was real. His life was real, his wife was real, his children were real, his parents were real, not some like spun by sorcery.
And yet, Daemon walked through the halls of the Red Keep with quick steps, trying to silence the thoughts clawing at the back of his mind. It was then that he heard it, in the distance, the roaring of a dragon. It was not one that he had seen before, even from a distance. It was large and black, enough that he had mistook it for Balerion for a moment, Viserys's mount before it died of illness.
He looked at the creature and froze as he realised that it was not moving towards the Dragonpit, and that was when he began to run. He should have likely gone towards the Dragonpit to ride Caraxes into battle, but the dragon was coming quickly to them, which was why he immediately ran towards his family.
That was when he saw the flames, for the giant dragon breathed black flames that easily melted the stones of the Red Keep. Daemon felt the castle shake with every moment and knew that it was collapsing, and yet, he continued to run nonetheless.
He did not know if it was an act of the gods that he had not perished yet, but suddenly the walls next to him collapsed as the black dragon collided into it, sending him flying back from the impact, with Dark Sister coming out flying from his grasp.
Despite the collision, Daemon remained somehow unharmed, especially when a section of the Red Keep was all but gone. The black dragon's giant head rose into the destroyed section of the castle, and Daemon stared at the beast's face, ready to fight.
He froze completely when he heard a familiar voice speak up, "It has been some time since we saw one another, Uncle."
Daemon looked up and froze as he saw Rhaenyra's figure walk out elegantly from the dragon's back, "Rhaenyra…"
"I wonder if you knew then that this day would come. You must have, after all. You must have known that I would return for my birthright, to take back what you have stolen from me, to ensure that you pay for your many crimes. Perhaps you underestimated me, as a dragonless girl, but I am that no more, for I have claimed the Cannibal as my mount."
"What… What are you doing, Rhaenyra?"
Rhaenyra's maddened eyes answered, "Ser Otto told me what you did, that you left my father for dead, that you convinced the King to banish him from the Capital to cover for your schemes, all to usurp what was not meant to be yours. And now, I will take from you what you have taken from me, your family, your throne, your dragon… EVERYTHING!"
She had screamed that last part, and as if the world was listening to her, an explosion shook the castle. In the distance, Daemon saw the Dragonpit erupt violently in a burst of green flames, and then he felt it… He felt his bond with Caraxes splutter and die away. He felt himself drop to his knees in realisation at what occurred, and he saw Rhaenyra's mad smile widening at it.
He shivered as she spoke up, "I should kill you, but I will not. Without a dragon, you're but a man. Would it be fitting to call you a Targaryen anymore? I wonder how your expression would contort when my mount devours your precious Caraxes. Better yet, you shall be my fool alongside that dwarf. As for now, I have traitors to hunt after all. I shall see you soon, Uncle."
Rhaenyra jumped out of the destroyed war and onto her dragon's back, flying away, burning almost everything beneath her, leaving Daemon on his knees, looking at the massacre. He did not know if his family lived or died, but it was unlikely, as they had.
Yet here he remained, dragonless and powerless, and despite the horrors and the massacre before him, one detail came to him, one that changed much. How could Rhaenyra think that he had killed Viserys? Differences aside, he was Daemon's brother and had suffered through their parents' death together, which had almost made them inseparable. The idea of killing Viserys was simply... wrong.
Then, he remembered Harry Potter's words, and a sudden clarity appeared before him, "This is not real. This was never real."
Time slowed down once more, and the owl appeared. He glared at it and asked, "Was this your work?"
"No. I told you, this timeline is to be pruned, and Time will always have its dues. You were lucky… Very lucky… You could have been stuck here, or you could have just died."
Daemon froze and commented, "Was any of it real?"
"It was a true timeline, if that is what you're asking. It was a possibility that Fate discarded, a single decision changing the very course of history."
The Rogue Prince slowly pushed himself up on the rubble, staring at the devastation beneath him. And even though he wished to look for his family, he knew that dead or alive, he should not. This was not his world, and so, he simply spoke up, "I am ready."
The owl nodded its head and circled him. The world quickly turned into a blur, one filled with impossibilities, and Daemon felt his mind almost shatter before everything turned black for a moment, or perhaps it was an infinity, and he finally felt himself being pulled up from some kind of liquid.
Daemon finally released a loud gasp as his face met the air.
He saw the sorcerer, Harry Potter, slowly holding him by his chest with that strange white owl landing on his shoulder. Daemon found himself sitting in an endless pool of water, which was far too shallow, given that he had almost drowned in it. He had so many questions, and yet, he found himself freezing in shock as he looked up at the sky and noticed the endless void of stars, moving slowly across the sky. They drifted across the darkness in quiet currents, gathering and spreading like leaves caught upon the branches of some vast unseen tree.
He slowly pushed himself upright in the shallow water, his breath still uneven from whatever strange place he had been dragged out of, noticing that it seemingly spanned to an infinity, or perhaps it was the trunk of this strange invisible tree of stars.
He slowly pushed himself upright in the shallow water, still catching his breath from whatever strange place he had been dragged out of.
"What happened?" he asked, turning toward the sorcerer.
"Well, I suppose that it's a bit of a long story."
[---]
Excerpt from: Lost Letters of Winterby Rickon Stark
It is my greatest wish that one day, someone with warm blood would read this letter, for it means that I succeeded, and that Winterfell is not all that remains of the world. I know not, for everything was swallowed by darkness and death. I have delayed this for so long, perhaps it was out of hope that the Gods would hear my prayer, if I am that at all.
Alas, since the Wall fell, I knew that it would come. The Builder's duty is nigh, and as the Stark of Winterfell, it becomes my burden to fulfil it.
Yet I cannot help but wonder if we had a chance, should the Seven Kingdoms have been united, should a Targaryen have remained on the Iron Throne, before Rhaenyra the Kinslayer destroyed the unity that Aegon the Dragon dedicated his life to bringing. It matters not, for none could change the past.
It is time for me to fulfil my duty, for me to go to the crypts of my ancestors and finish what they started, for I am Rickon Stark, the last Stark of Winterfell, and the Night King shall die by my hands.
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AN: I had a lot of fun writing that chapter, even if I wasn't sure about doing it when I started. I liked the concept a bit of Daemon seeing what could have been in what is essentially a doomed timeline. I had this long list of events planned out about why Rhaenyra did this, but I think it would have dragged things out too much. Long story short, Rhaenyra's action starts a war, the Seven Kingdoms fracture, and when the Long Night returns, they're easily defeated, with Winterfell staying because of Bran the Builder's wards, and the Stark of Winterfell goes to the crypts to activate Bran's trap, as a form of pyrrhic victory. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.