[1787 Words]
—Westeros, The Westerlands, Casterly Rock, 284 AC, 3 Days after the birth— (1 day before the raven sent to Winterfell and 2 days before the raven sent to Sunspear reached there)
[Tywin Lannister POV]
In the solar of Casterly Rock, I sit in my seat, the lion's head rising above it in carved gold, representing the sigil of House Lannister, watching over all who dare approach.
The large windows cast yellow afternoon sun rays throughout the room, filling the chamber with false warmth, while it's not as cold in the north, it was not as warm as most of the south. Before me lie the mining reports from the mountain shafts that are settled deep into the depths of the hills.
My pale green eyes scan over lists of numbers and totals, as each line is more disappointing than the last. The return is insignificant. The veins grow thinner. The gold that has historically made my House feared and envied is beginning to diminish like a dying flame.
With a labored breath, I set the parchment aside, its seal bearing the crimson lion broken cleanly in two. Another report awaits me: the reports of mountain bandits preying upon lesser lords sworn to Casterly Rock, hindering and raiding traders along the Gold Road, emboldened by neglect or desperation.
My jaw tightens, though I give no other sign. Trouble and chaos in the Westerlands is an insult, a weakness, an invitation to those who are looking for any slip-up.
A quiet sigh escapes me as my gaze drifts to my right, to the portrait on the stone wall. Joanna, painted in bright colors as she should be, her smile soft, her eyes bright with wit and grace. My lady wife, my right hand in all but name, the love of my life.
The sight of her stirs what I keep buried beneath iron discipline. It makes me remember what took her from me, what cost me more dearly than gold, lands, or even this damn name. My expression hardens, though no one stands to see it due to all my soldiers and guards staying outside, letting no one in, not like her.
My eyes fall upon another parchment: the expense report of that… that shame. Inked in nice text are sums that should never have been written, or at least not by him. Nearly two hundred gold dragons squandered on whores and wine.
Two hundred dragons poured into indulgence and folly while the mines run thin and brigands roam my lands, not that I'd even tell him that he'll probably tell it to some whore who will spill it to someone, and so forth till it reaches unwanted ears.
I press my fingers against my forehead, rubbing them to ease the headache that will come from thinking of that disgrace, but the Rock endures, House Lannister will endure till the end of time if I have my way, but waste, weakness, and decay, these are out of my control, but soon, I just need time, till the seed have born fruit.
Just then, someone threw the doors to my solar wide open, and they struck stone with a hollow crack. A man rushed into my chambers without authorization. He was breathless and pale, and my brother followed close behind him in hurried pursuit.
"This better be important," I said, my voice cold as the far North.
The messenger flinched at once, color draining from his face even more. My brother did not, though. While he fears me, as all men should, but we are blood, and he has grown accustomed to the way I do things.
"It is, brother, it's news from King's Landing." He gestured at the messenger to speak.
After a moment's struggle for breath, the man bowed low. "Your lordship… King Robert Baratheon and Queen Cersei Lannister have given birth to two healthy baby boys, the oldest Joffrey Baratheon and the youngest Axel Baratheon."
After he spoke, my heart leapt in excitement, exhilaration, pride, and most of all relief, though I did not show it. Two boys, Lannister blood, will now sit upon the Iron Throne at last.
Even if the mountains may thin in golden ore, yet now our blood sits at the core of the realm. Even if every shaft runs dry, we would not stand alone. The crown would stand with us. And even now, the Iron Throne is indebted to Casterly Rock, two hundred and fifty thousand gold dragons owed.
A sum that will grow, if whispers of Robert's feasting, tourneys, and extravagance are true. The realm may wear a stag upon its banners now, but in the future it will wear a lion.
—Westeros, miles north-east of King's Landing, Dragonstone, 284 AC, 10 Days after the birth—
[Third Person POV]
"AHAHAHAHAH!!!"
The cry rang through the birthing chambers of Dragonstone, echoing along black stone walls, as former Queen Rhaella Targaryen labored to bring forth her third and final child. Beyond the windows, the stormy winds battered the ancient fortress, as the sea crashed against the rocks below.
After long hours of anguishing labor, Rhaella Targaryen lay pale upon her bed, silver-gold hair clinging to her brow. At last, the babe was placed in her trembling arms. The child looked up into her mother's violet eyes, which were eyes filled with weary love, and with her own purple gaze returned it. No one dared to voice the question of how long Rhaella would get to see that face.
The midwives standing near the bed looked at each other with solemn, sympathetic looks. Then the doors slammed open as an eight-year-old Viserys Targaryen rushed inside, silver hair loose about his narrow face. He took in the sight of his mother lying weakened upon her bed, the newborn cradled against her breast. A blanket covered her legs, but too much blood seeped through.
The guards still loyal to House Targaryen entered behind him. At their head stood Ser Willem Darry. The old knight stepped forward slowly, his lined face grave as his eyes landed upon his queen. He gave her the same look as the midwives.
But Rhaella did not let those looks hinder her looked at her son and spoke, "Viserys, come here, child."
Her voice was light, almost hollow, yet filled with a mother's love. With one frail hand, she drew her son close, while the other kept the newborn secure against her breast as she suckled on her teat.
Viserys stepped forward, as Rhaella rested her palm upon his silver-haired head, his young face stricken with hurt and pain. Even at eight years of age, he could feel his mother was not long for this world.
"I want you to care for Daenerys, your younger sister, that is what I have named her," Rhaella said softly. "My son, you are a dragon, and a dragon protects what is his. Do they not?"
She looked into his violet eyes with her own. In her heart, she meant that he and the babe were the last of their line, that they must cling to one another as the last members of House Targaryen.
But Viserys took the words deeper than she intended; he took them not as comfort, but as something far more. It would shape him in ways she would want or never live to see.
Rhaella's gaze then moved to Ser Willem Darry. The old knight stood steadfast, though grief lined his face.
"I would have you take the children to Essos," she said. "I know my time is near. I want you take them across the Narrow Sea. They may not be totally safe there, yet it is far safer than Westeros and the Baratheons' rule."
As she finished speaking, another soldier entered the chamber, armor damp with seawater from the crashing waves. "Ser. Your Grace. Stannis Baratheon's fleet draws near. What are your commands?"
Before Ser Willem could answer, Rhaella spoke again, summoning what strength remained.
"You will take what ships remain and sail for Essos. I am not long for this world. See to it that my children are taken away from this place." Her eyes held Darry's fiercely, despite her failing health. "May I count on you for this, Ser Willem Darry?"
The storm raged beyond the walls of Dragonstone. And the last words were not from a queen, but from a mother wanting to protect her children.
"You can," Ser Willem Darry answered at once, his voice firm as stone. "Ready the ships, prepare to set across the Narrow Sea for Essos."
The soldiers bowed and hurried from the chamber and outside to the ships to carry out his command. Yet one man lingered, doubt clear on his face.
"But, Ser… the storm. I do not think all of us will survive it. Mayhap we shou..."
He spoke no further. SHHINK, the sound of steel coming from its sheath sounded out. Ser Willem's blade slashed out, and the man fell where he stood, his head falling on the floor as blood spurted from his head, making a pool of it.
Silence followed, the remaining soldiers stared at their commander, then to the floor where the body was, fear clearly seen in their eyes. "Any man who dares think of being a turncloak shall meet the same end," Ser Willem said coldly.
A cry sounded behind him.
"Mother! Speak to me.. wa, wake, I beg you!"
Viserys clung to Rhaella's still form, shaking her slight frame with frantic hands. But there was no answer. The former queen had died. A faint smile lingered upon her lips, as her face looked where her loyal knight had defended her last wish.
Viserys' cries startled the newborn princess, and Daenerys began to wail, her small voice rising over the roar of the storm. Ser Willem Darry looked upon the scene with sorrow etched on his lined face. But there was no time for grief.
He gathered both children into his arms and strode from the chamber without hesitation. Down through the halls of Dragonstone he went, toward the docks where the remnants of the Targaryen fleet waited in the harsh wind and rain.
The ship cast off as he boarded. Sails strained, masts groaned, and the storm fell upon them mercilessly. One by one, vessels vanished into murky waters, swallowed by winds and waves, their men lost to the sea.
But the ship that carried Ser Willem Darry and the last children of House Targaryen made its way through the storm. Bruised, battered, and alone, it reached the shores of Essos, and so the remnants of the House of the Dragon were now 'safe,' but for how long is yet to be seen, especially with Robert wanting all Targaryens dead.
[Author's Note: If you're confused about anything, stick with me, I'm making this as we go! I had the wrong Idea of the timeline, so I changed it so that Axel and Joffrey would be born in 284 AC. I originally had the Dragonstone thing as a flashback, but no need anymore.
Disclaimer: I have a rough idea of where this is going, but I haven't mapped out every single detail or an overarching idea. So if you have suggestions to make the story better or who you might want to see, please leave a comment and review! Oh, I will be posting 2 chapters a week, Tuesday and Thursday, until I have some chapters saved up, so something like my other fanfics won't happen. I hope you like the story. While I do use AI, I don't think it is slop, and if there is any, I will try to change it and or add humanity into it, but just give me a chance.
Next time: It will have a time skip, finally showing a bit older MC, Joffrey, and ??? a bit older than she should be in the world, and their relationship. The happenings of King's Landing with the small council and the king. We will see the thought of ??? from Adam's world and ASOIAF while he is dead, and Axel won't go to that world in a long time and might not even care for it. Just because he won't go there does not mean someone won't like to come to his world, and vice versa. Now this will be a group/collection/chain chapter, so I suggest you wait to read it until all chapters are out. See you then!
My Patreon will not be up for at least 1 more year, so I will upload 1 chapter whenever I make a new one, so sorry for this, but hey, what can you do when you are not of age. But I what you all to have a great( if you're not religious) and or blessed day! :)]