First of all, I would like to apologize for the long wait for an update for this story; everything is just super messy right now, and for that I apologize thousands times over. THOUGH, THIS UPDATE WILL BE A LITTLE DIFFERENT, BECAUSE I DECIDED TO REMOVE MY WHOLE FORMER WRITTEN PROLOGUE AND WRITE THE VERY FIRST CHAPTER OF THE DRAGON OF WINTER ABOUT RHAELLA (DANY & ANDY'S MOTHER), BECAUSE I JUST LOVE RHAELLA'S TRAGIC LIFE-STORY IN A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, AND SOON I HAD THIS. I hope you guys like it. I would also like to thank you all so much for the response on this story; 140+ reviews, 310+ favorites, and 460+ followers. You are seriously so amazing.

White Madness

Rhaella
284AC

Rhaella had feared this with all of her burning heart; for she knew that this truly was the end.

The world was falling apart, and she was beneath it all. She could hear the thunder outside, hear what she knew would destroy them all. The dark clouds above Dragonstone oozed and billowed across the weak sun, casting the meadow into a shadowy darkness. She prayed for the weather to break and relieve it, but she knew that ignorance truly was a bliss. It had all begun with small, graceful, little droplets of water, but had now turned into a monstrous sound that made Rhaella's heart ache painfully within her frail chest.

Still, her whole life had started with mercy, and turned into something so evil. She barely remembered what happiness tasted like anymore, nor how freedomfelt like in her young heart. When she closed her lilac eyes, she could only see the shade of it; and it was so much better than not feeling anything at all. When she thought of smiles and happiness; she could see Rhaegar and Viserys beneath her fluttering eyelids, and she could see the swell of her stomach whenever she had looked into the broken mirror in the corner, her slender fingertips ghosting over her large stomach, hoping and praying for sanity and greatness, hoping for everything that her husband and brother and the man who was also the father to her children - was not. But even that lighting happiness of infinite memories couldn't seem to come to her as she laid down in pain, and she could do nothing but think of her sweet babes until the end of time. Rhaella would have done anything and everything to get a chance to witness them grow up with love and caresses, but she knew that she would not; for the silver-haired lady could feel the consuming pain burning her from the inside and out, and she knew she would be nothing but a pained memory within the next few moments.

From outside her dark and haunted chamber, the sky was gun metal grey with a sickly cast of green and the air felt unbelievably heavy as it surrounded her and suffocated her. Rhaella took a deep breath, feeling the fever drowning her in the consuming cramps again. Had Rhaella known what this storm would bring her, she would have recanted her prayers at once to finally get to meet the babe that was resting within her. The violent winds whipped everything they could get to on the outside of the big, mighty castle; and Rhaella took a pained inhale again, trying not to let the piercing scream leave her pale lips. She could not stand the sounds of screams anymore, not even if they came from herself; she had heard too many people scream, seen too much blood, seen too many people die - and she could no longer take it. Instead of screaming like her every sense were begging her to do, Rhaella flung her head down on the pillow again, her white-silver hair fanning around her with glory. She gritted her teeth in pain, feeling like someone had sat her on fire, but not in a good way… No, not anymore. There was nothing but pain no longer. Her whole body was covered with sheen layer of sweat, glistening and shining and her slender and trembling body was warmer than she thought possible. She was wearing a pale nightshift that pooled around her bent knees in a white puddle, and the fine linen-dress that was made in the beautiful Dorne felt too sticky and uncomfortable against her damp, pale skin; and Rhaella wanted nothing more than to flinch away, to escapefrom the agony that had now become her life.

Suddenly, from nowhere; the burning pain ripped through her stomach again before it filled her whole being, and Rhaella couldn't help but release a strangled scream into the dark chamber, crying and pleading for something she could not reach. Her voice did not sound the same anymore, nothing of her was the same. She used to be so beautiful… so young…. so willful. She remembered people telling her that she looked as if she had fallen from the heavens, too elegant to be the truth… But Rhaella was not that young girl anymore. Aerys had made her to this undone woman she had now become, but she had not always been this shell of a woman. There was a time when she had once felt the sweet feeling of fire in her soul.

She barely remembered the day she had been wedded to Aerys, but Rhaella was certain that her downfall in life had started there. It had been a quick affair, that much was memorable. She had mostly ignored him throughout the ceremony, remembering that she had tried to do everything to prevent her lilac vision from drifting to Bonifer, a man she knew loved her with a burning passion. She had not been his anymore, but her brother's, and Rhaella had done what any honorable lady wife would have done; as commanded. Aerys had not minded her throughout the wedding ceremony neither, and he had mostly been bored.

Yet, the wedding night had been everything but forgettable. Her brother had not been gentle, nor merciful, and he had taken her like she was certain that he had taken his whores before her. It had hurt; and Rhaella remembered that she had stayed awake that night, her whole body trembling with silent tears… and that that was the first time Rhaella had cried because of her brother's cruel accessions. Even so, Rhaella had been certain that her brother would only bring her to tears that once; but he had managed to do so every day ever since that awful night that still haunted her nightmares. Yet, she had been a foolish young girl with a dutiful mind, and she had not dwelled much over the bedding after she had stopped bleeding and the pain had vanished wholly; for she had learned at young age that men were not gentle with their maiden wives.. and Rhaella had strongly held to her believes that her brother would not do it again. Yet, she had been proven a fool in the end, when her dear brother had committed everything she thought he was incapable of; and he had so cruelly driven away the love she once thought she may would gain for him one day.

The Aerys she once had known had died when the madness inside of him had been born, and the small boy Rhaella used to play with as a child with beautiful flowers in her silver hair had vanished from the living earth to never return again. There were cracks in her porcelain skin that she knew never would be mended, for they were too visible, too deep, too painful. ''You are hurting me,'' she could sometimes hear herself cry again, the awful memory of when Aerys had held her arms down to the silken sheets underneath her with an aching force, and his breaths had gone ragged against her ear as they had been one together - still haunting her mind at all times. ''Please…'' She had cried out for anyone and everyone, but no one had heard her; for no one had cared for her safety. She had been a breathing ghost all her life; the living death. She had been able to tug up her lips, but she hadn't smiled. She had been able to let out a light noise, but she hadn't laughed. She had been able to press her lips to Aerys' with most ease, but she hadn't felt love or any small sort of affection at all. She had worn that crown like a queen, but it had not felt right; not when she was sitting beside a monster that enjoyed the smell of burnt flesh and only ever came to her bed whenever he had watched someone's life slip away in the dancing flames.

She had been nothing, cared for nothing, loved nothing; but her babes… her sweet babes. They were her life, and without them; Rhaella knew that she would have been buried underneath the ground with relief and contentment in her heart. She remembered the day she had brought Rhaegar into the cruel world. It had been so painful, but when her wet-nurse had laid the small babe with white hair and purple eyes in her arms, and she had seen him smile up at her with curiosity - Rhaella had known that it had all been worth it, the pain, the suffering, for she had then received the greatest gift she could ever beg for. My son, Rhaella remembered that she had cooed at her beautiful son. I love you so much, my sweet prince. Her firstborn son had grown up to be such a handsome man, just and brave and everything that his father was not, just like she had prayed before she had birthed him. Rhaella had never loved anything nor anyone as much as she had loved Rhaegar. The years had only made her beautiful son wiser, and she had been so proud of him when he had married the beautiful Elia Martell, who had been just as honorable as her brother Doran, but just as fierce as her brother Oberyn, and such a beautiful sight.

She had gotten Viserys years later, a little red-faced babe who screamed so much that Aerys threatened to burn him. Rhaella remembered that her heart had gone cold at her king's words, and she had carefully placed Viserys in another chamber, as far away from Aerys as she could possibly bring him; for she had not been certain that she could hold her tongue whenever he threatened one of her babes, hers. They were her babes, not Aerys' - although they had been born out of his seed. They were nothing like him, and Rhaella had prayed every night to the gods that they would become nothing like him neither. And they had not, not before Rhaella had received a raven that told her that Rhaegar had stolen and raped Lyanna Stark, the fair she-wolf he had crowned as the queen of love and beauty, and Rhaella had let the letter slip from her shaking hands, and her lilac eyes had filled with tears. Rhaegar was no Aerys, and he was nothing like his father; but Rhaella had only been able to think of his sweet wife Elia who must have been heartbroken at this news, and the wolves' daughter who was being raped by Rhaella's son. Raped, just like Rhaella had been more times than the stars upon the night's sky. Rhaella remembered wondering if Lyanna Stark had cried out for help as well, pleading and crying for mercy and help but feeling all sanity leaving her when the oaken door remained shut. He would not, Rhaella had cried out into the cold night, to everyone and no one at the same time. My child is not his father.

Rhaella had walked around like a ghost in Dragonstone for months, waiting for words from anyone, her sweet child, her beast of a husband, the beautiful Elia.. but no ravens came. Viserys had clutched to her leg, his violet eyes looking up at his mother with sadness, his innocent mind knowing that the world outside was slowly but surely falling apart. Viserys had reached his sixth nameday, and he had his father's face; slender and tall. It would sometimes be hard for Rhaella to look at her son and try to not remember that he was his father's son. Yet Rhaella knew that Viserys had her heart, and that was what she strongly believed when she had gently reached out her hand to grab her small son's, just to put them over her swelling stomach, where his sibling was peacefully resting. Viserys had wore a look of awe, and Rhaella's eyes had filled with tears as she looked at him. She had hugged him then, muttering words she knew he hadn't comprehended, but she had only wished for him to be certain of the love she had kept in her heart for him, for all her babes…

So, when a dark raven with the darkest of wings she had ever witnessed had reached Dragonstone; Rhaella's heart had started to pound painfully hard within her chest, and she had opened the small letter with a shaking body, her eyes reading the words with fear. Slowly, she had started to quiver, and then fallen to the floor with a painful hard and a loud thud, curling screams of terror and sadness tearing and ripping her throat apart. Her son was dead, it had stood, slain by the hand of Robert Baratheon, the rebellious stag. Rhaella had wailed out broken cries, cried for embracing her son again, to see him smile up at her with his lilac eyes; to tell him how much she loved him, to lazily drag her fingers through his waves of silver again, to curl together in his small bed and tell stories of old, old, old times. She had, herself, curled up into a ball on the cold floor, so terribly alone as she had trembled and shook while tears had fallen down her pale cheeks; pressing her trembling, cold-sweaty hand to her swollen stomach.

Hours later, another raven had been received at Dragonstone; informing her of her husband's death… but Rhaella had felt nothing but numbness at those words. It stood that he had been stabbed in the back by Jaime Lannister, a guard that Rhaella had seen by her husband's side at all times. A boy with golden hair and green eyes, a boy that looked so bound to his duty. He was kind, and would always smile at her whenever she walked him by. Rhaella had never expected the boy to kill his king, but the world was full of dark surprises, Rhaella had learned, the most import thing was to remember that most clearly. The Seven Kingdoms are full of broken promises and oath-breakers, Rhaella had thought to herself, but it is a few I am clueless to as if I should thank or hate.

The Targaryen's had fallen, and Rhaella was certain that they would not rise again. Silent whispers had slowly reached them, and they did not lessen her pain; children with silver hair and violet eyes… butchered in their sleeps, thrown and slain like pigs before a royal feast. Elia's children had also been murdered before her eyes, Rhaella had been told so before her face went pale and she had fainted in Ser Willem's arms, right before they had raped Elia herself and then sliced her open the same. It had all hurt… so powerfully… so consumingly.

The rebellion that had started like a shadow in the form of a small girl who lived in the snow; had now ended in the Targaryen's downfall.

Rhaella was not certain if she should cry or smile, if she should scream or laugh.

It was all truly madness. Madness. Madness. Madness.

Rhaella's eyes fluttered open again when she heard the storm outside of the mighty castles again, and another jarring pain filled her stomach once more. Then suddenly, right when Rhaella was certain that the storm's fury would rip the island apart; the oaken door opened with a loud thud, and Rhaella's tear-filled eyes instantly flickered to her side, the need to close them again winning her over when pain burned her again and she screamed out until her throat hitched, and she was left with a buzzing in her head. She could distantly hear footsteps in the room, and before she truly knew it; she felt cold hands press to her thighs, and she could not fight it when they slowly inched her slender thighs apart. Rhaella weakly opened her lilac eyes again, just to see that it was her wet-nurse, Annabella. Rhaella released a deep breath, her stomach heaving heavily with each breath. She gritted her teeth again as pain ripped through her again, and she wanted to cry, cry cry.

''Your Grace,'' Annabella's thin voice spoke up moments later, fear drowning everything else. ''The babe is coming now… You cannot wait any longer.''

Rhaella felt her stomach clench with pain, but she madly shook her head, ''No,'' she cried, her fingers curling around her white nightgown as she clenched at it. ''They-They will take it away from me, Annabella… I want… I want to say goodbye to Viserys… Give me Viserys…'' She cried softly, ''I will not live… Please, I want my son!''

Before she knew it; the oaken door opened again, and she could see Viserys' fair hair come into her vision. Rhaella inspected her son quietly, eyes ranking over his slender frame, his violet eyes, his shoulder-length hair that held the color of pure white. Beside him, Ser Willem Darry stood with a straight frame. The old man was one of the few that Rhaella could truly trust, and she nodded her head softly as if to thank him for bringing her Viserys. Ser Willem smiled back at her, but she could see his blue eyes drift over her weak frame with sadness in those blue pools. Rhaella knew that she looked like a corpse, so pail.. so weak.. so much blood staining her white nightgown because of the babe she already loved with all her heart. I will not live through this, Rhaella thought to herself. I will leave the world as a mad woman, but I will leave greatness. I must leave greatness. I must. Rhaella's violet eyes drifted down to her son, who had tears streaming down his small, red cheeks as he watched his mother lying on the bed. Rhaella tried so desperately to smile, and to not show weakness or pain; but she had forgot how to do so for such a long time ago. Instead, she slowly reached out her shaking hand for him, and she watched as Viserys' small frame slowly inched closer to her, before Rhaella enveloped him into her warm embrace, and she heard him sob into her hair. Her hand slowly reached up until she was running her fingers through his hair, and she pressed kisses to it.

''Viserys, look at me..'' Rhaella then gently spoke, before she softly took her son's cheek in her hand and tilted his head up so that she could meet his red-rimmed eyes with her own. ''My brave, beautiful boy… My sweet Viserys… I love you so much.''

Viserys looked pained by her words, ''Mother, you ought not leave…'' He begged her, his small hands gripping her own. ''I will protect you and brother. I promise I will!''

Rhaella felt proudness hit her heart, ''I know you will, my brave son.'' She told him. ''And you must promise me to do so.''

Viserys nodded, ''I will, Mother.''

Rhaella inspected her son once more, her hand softly cupping his small chin in her soft palm. ''I am so proud of you, my child.''

After that, Rhaella gently told Ser Willem to take Viserys out from the chamber, and when that hurtful, heart aching command left her pale lips; she could see that Ser Willem knew exactly what she was truly saying. He knows as much as I that I will be dead within an hour, Rhaella noticed. He is old, but a very wise man. So, Rhaella softly kissed Viserys' red chin, and tried not to stain him with her fallen tears. Viserys gripped himself to her, pleading for him to stay with her, and in a way; Rhaella was certain that Viserys knew that he would see her no more after this neither. Yet Rhaella could not let her son watch life slip away from her so easily, could not let him watch dead take her away. So, Rhaella muttered that she loved him with all her heart, and she watched through blurred eyes as Ser Willem had to drag him out of the chamber, her son's small legs and arms kicking and fighting for her. Rhaella could do nothing but cry, and soon the jarring pain in her stomach consumed her again, and her piercing scream was heard throughout the chamber again.

She could feel Annabella between her thighs again, and when she felt something warm run down her thighs - Rhaella screamed once again, so loud and painful that her head grew so heavy that it fell down upon the blankets underneath her once again. She barely saw the look of panic and fear upon Annabella's face as she watched between her thighs, and what Rhaella had known had never been so certain before. She felt tears run down her chins as she reached up and brushed away her silver strands of hair that clang to her sweaty brow, licking her lips that had once been so rosy and sweet but was now pale and lifeless. She looked down at Annabella again, and she released a small breath before she spoke up;

''Save my child…'' She begged, ''I am losing too much blood, Annabella. Save my child, and let it live while I do not.''

Annabella turned pale, ''Your Grace-''

Rhaella twitched once again as her body was consumed with a ripping pain, and she screamed out. She clenched at the bloodied blankets around her, panting and sighing when the pain finally faded into only a jarring ache. ''No, I am yet a queen… and I will die a queen.'' She told her friend. ''I command of you to save my child!'' Rhaella's lips pursed when she felt the pain starting to well over again, and she hurried her words with a heavy and weak tongue. ''They can take my crown, they can take away my firstborn son; but they will not take away my gentle heart.'' She pierced down the woman with her lilac eyes, her voice filled with unspoken power. ''Save - my - child!''

Rhaella watched as Annabella went quiet for a moment, before she nodded her head. Rhaella laid down on her sheets again, her hair puddling around her; feeling Annabella scoot her thighs further apart. She took a deep breath. The power that had once kept her alive - was now slowly seeping away from between her gripping fingertips.

''Your Grace, you are losing much blood,'' Annabella's voice spoke up moments later, hurried and chaste. ''You must try to bring your child out to the world now.''

Rhaella released a small breath from her parted lips, bracing herself for the pain she knew she would feel within seconds. Finally, she let Annabella scoot her down lower on the bed; and before she knew it she had started to push, and the pain was so strong and burning that she screamed and screamed and screamed for her life. She was not certain if anything had ever hurt as much, even the pain she had felt when Aerys held her down on their wedding night and raped her - was able to be compared to this horrid feeling. It had not hurt this much when she had brought Rhaegar and Viserys to this world neither; but there had been less everything then… less blood… less pain… less death. It felt as if someone was splitting her in two, like someone was stabbing her and killing her.. just like they had done to everyone else with the same coloring as her. Rhaella's fingers gripped the sheet in her hold, screaming loudly as she felt herself going numb; but she could still witness her nightgown that had once been so beautifully white - now slowly getting covered with her dark blood. She distantly heard Annabella speak to her in reassuring words, telling her that she could see her babe's head, but it felt like she was leagues away; and Rhaella could see nothing, could do nothing but part her lips again and scream.

I must fight, she murmured to herself, not certain if she thought it or screamed it. I must fight for my child.

She couldn't endure the pain, it was too real and too tortuous. But before she knew it; she could hear a scream into the dark chamber, and Rhaella felt her heart thump within her chest again. She weakly reached for her child, for the noise; but she could not feel it. She heard the scream of her babe, and she wanted nothing more than to feel the small little child in her arms before the darkness would take her away. Rhaella let out a small whimper when she felt her stomach fill with pain again, and she released a loud and strangled sob.

''My baby…'' The queen kept muttering, her hands blindly reaching for her child while her whole body trembled and she was stabbed with pain again. ''I want my baby…''

She could hear Annabella's footsteps about the chamber, and she wanted to scream at her but could not find the power. Before she knew it; she felt Annabella's cold hands grip her thighs again, and she wanted to cry. Rhaella had to hold her child before she died and faded and turned to nothing but a memory of pain and suffering, she had to look at her sweet child. Still, she could not fight it when Annabella inched her pail, trembling, bloodied thighs apart again; and she barely heard Annabella gasp most suddenly. Rhaella's eyes fluttered open again, although she was so weak it hurt.

''Your Grace-'' Annabella's voice trembled, and Rhaella felt like crying. My baby…

''My child-'' Rhaella was cut off when the gnawing pain in her stomach reappeared, and she cried out again.

She felt wet tears stream down her pail cheeks again, but she could not stop fight it; and she weakly pushed herself up on her elbows, her violet eyes drifting down. Red, it was everywhere. Her own blood had stained her, and she could do nothing but shudder. Yet, she heard that little scream again, and she felt her heart ache. That's when she saw it; the small babe. She had not noticed that Ser Willem had entered the chamber under the time she had birthed, but he was holding her child; and Rhaella released a small cry. Her babe was so beautiful.. and she wanted to hold it so much her fingertips were tingling by the force of it. Annabella was still looking between her bloodied thighs, and Rhaella could see that she was gaping, her dark hair sweaty, but her eyes wide and surprised and she could even see fear within those dark pools.

''Your Grace,'' Annabella told her once again, before her brown eyes locked with Rhaella's violet ones. ''You...You are not finished… There is another child within you.''

Rhaella felt her body go warm, and heart heart twitched. She looked at Annabella with glossy and lilac eyes. ''Another child?'' She spoke, her tongue heavy and her voice quivering. ''Will it survive?'' She swallowed hard, ''Can you save it?''

Annabella licked her lips, ''I can try, Your Grace… But you will have to push now, urgently…''

Rhaella released a strangled sob before she fell down on her bed again, and did exactly what Annabella had told her to do. Never before had she thought that she could feel such agony, and such bliss, all at the same time. The pain was sickening and suffocating all the same, but she felt happiness within her, for the first time in so many years. She could hear her child's gurgles from the distant, and she would have twosmall babes now, and they would be perfect, with gentle hearts and greatness in their souls. They would be untouched by what had consumed their father, and they would be happy and free and loved. She could believe nothing else; she wouldbelieve nothing rather than that they would escape the tragedy that had drowned their people.

Rhaella flung her head down on the bed again after painfully pushing with all her might, trying to give her life to a child she loved with everything inside of her, and had yet to hold, to embrace, to kiss. She took a deep breath, the burning pain bursting over her sense side. She listened to her child's gurgling in Ser Willem's arms, and then she curled her fingers around the blankets that had gone damp beneath her sweating body; and she released another scream into the room, until another much smaller scream joined hers... and she could feel her heart flutter in her chest again. She could feel the blood slowly leaving her, and her vision grew glossier and her head became fuzzy. She listened to the little scream coming from her child, and she reached out for her babes again, reached for the ones she had left in this deviled land. She could hear faint footsteps approaching her, and her eyes fluttered open again; and although she felt like there was nothing left of her, she opened her eyes and was met by the sight of two, small, beautiful babes.

Rhaella reached out her arms weakly, witnessing how much paler she had grown, her skin which used to be so fair had now gone a sickly grey, like a ghost in the playing, wicked shadows… but she did not mind it any longer. All she could think of was her sweet babes, and she watched as Annabella and Ser Willem gave her the two children who were crying loudly, scrawling like the two babes they were. They were so beautiful, both looked so much like Rhaegar had done when he was but a babe, and it almost made Rhaella laugh and weep all together.

She felt Annabella stand beside her, and she pointed to the small child in Rhaella's right arm, ''This is your firstborn, Your Grace… It is a girl.'' She spoke, a small smile on her full lips. ''You have a name for her?''

Rhaella looked down at her daughter with blurred eyes. She was a beautiful sight, with thin hair on her red head, and Rhaella could clearly see the light silver color there. When the small child opened her eyes, she was met by the violent color; and Rhaella knew exactly what she would be called. She looked at her daughter with lit up eyes as she finally spoke;

''Princess Daenerys.'' She said, her voice slowly fading. ''Princess Daenerys of House Targaryen.''

Annabella smiled gently, and her brown eyes drifted to the small girl cuddling into Rhaella's right arm. ''The second is also a daughter, Your Grace.'' She smiled lightly. ''Do you have a name for her, as well?''

Rhaella licked her chapped lips, feeling hazy and fragile when she looked down at her second daughter. She looked exactly like her sister, although she had much more and thicker silver-white hair on her head than Daenerys, but she was just as beautiful and frail. The babe's lilac eyes were looking up at her with curiosity, trying to reach her chubby little hand up and tug at her mother's silver hair.

Rhaella took a deep breath, ''Princess Andralyn,'' she finally said. ''Princess Andralyn of House Targaryen.''

There were tears streaming down her violet eyes, and she did not bother to brush them away. She could feel herself growing weaker, her arms that held her children tightly slowly starting to lose their power. Please, Rhaella wept to the gods one last time. Make them good. Rhaella slowly leaned down and pressed her lips to Daenerys' brow as powerful as she could muster, before she quietly mumbled her goodbye. She then carefully lifted Daenerys up so that she found herself in Annabella's warm embrace, and Rhaella tried so hard not to cry out loud, but she couldn't help but release a small sob when she saw Annabella give Daenerys to Ser Willem, who grabbed her gently in his arms. Rhaella locked eyes with Annabella, whose brown eyes looked at her expectedly, silently pleading for her to say goodbye to her second daughter as well. Rhaella knew that she had to let them go; Daenerys and Andralyn and Viserys… but she did not want to, it hurt too much. But she could still feel herself loosing too much blood, and she looked down at the small babe in her arms.

Andralyn was watching her from underneath her heavy eyelids, and she gurgled softly, making Rhaella sob again before she released a strangled breath into the chilling chamber and then leaned down and pressed her pale lips to Andralyn's soft brow as well, saying farewell when all she wanted to do was grip her children tighter to herself. Even though, Rhaella cried when she leaned forward to Annabella to lay Andralyn into her arms; just to release a gasp of surprise and tug her babe tighter to her frail chest when she heard a piercing scream from outside the castle. It was a bloodcurdling scream, a scream that meant nothing but pain and blood.

They have come, Rhaella knew with a thumping heart, they have come for my babes.

Her eyes watched as Ser Willem's eyes instantly quickened, and with Daenerys crying in his arms, he quickly walked towards the chamber window. Rhaella watched with tears in her eyes as his white eyebrows furrowed and his back straightened dangerously. She heard Daenerys release a cry again, making Andralyn do the same in her mother's weak arms. Rhaella gripped Andralyn closer to her, humming a hymn although her voice was thick with tears and dead hopes. They would kill her babes, just as they had killed Rhaegar and Elias'. Rhaella whimpered with dread and pure grief, and she looked from Andralyn's blurred eyes to see Ser Willem speak, his blue eyes never leaving the window;

''It is the stag,'' he exclaimed with thick emotion. ''We will have to leave now, or fall into the darkness before us.''

Rhaella's heart froze, ''Viserys!'' She weakly screamed into the chamber, thinking of her sweet boy whom she had forced outside. ''Where is my son!?''

Ser Willem's head whipped to the side, and his eyes filled with fear for his prince, and now king. A split second later, he was running out from the chamber, faster than Rhaella truly comprehended. It only took a split moment for Rhaella to understand that he had still been holding her daughter Daenerys, and she screamed after him; a scream that quickly died on her tongue as it was overthrown by another dying scream from outside the castle. Rhaella could hear the clear noise of white-hot lighting flashing through the blackening sky, and the wind which breezed against the castle with such abnormal power that Rhaella was certain that Dragonstone would fall down to the ground. Rhaella looked back at Annabella who was shaking by her side, her brown eyes watery and her skin paler than ever;

''He took my daughter, Annabella!'' Rhaella tried, desperately twitching in her bloodied sheets. ''My daughter… My Daenerys…''

Rhaella looked down at her other daughter, who was now crying loudly, her eyes shiny with tears, her lips parted. Rhaella quickly tightened her hold on the small babe, quietly whispering comforting words… words that were not the truth.

''I will search for them.'' Annabella suddenly quipped up, her voice trembling as much as her legs. ''I will return, Your Grace… Just be quiet…''

The dark-haired girl did not wait for Rhaella's respond, but carefully marched out from the chamber. Rhaella listened carefully, weeping softly as she grabbed Andralyn's small frame to her body. She could feel her eyes dropping carefully, her powers draining; and she knew she did not have much time left in this cruel world. My children, Rhaella prayed again, let them live. Andralyn released a small cry again, and Rhaella's eyes drifted down to her daughter; feeling her own eyes burning so painfully.

Then suddenly Rhaella heard a voice; far away and yet so close, and her whole body froze. She quickly put her cold-sweaty hand over Andralyn's mouth and tried with all her powerless might to muffle her daughter's cries. The painful fear that they had slain Daenerys and Viserys still played through her mind, and she felt so broken and afraid. She would do anything to save them, anything. Still, the voice grew louder; and the hope that her children's heart were still beating was slowly fading. Andralyn was still weeping, barely muffled by Rhaella's hand; and she knew that she would have to go through the same fate as Elia… would have to watch as they murdered Andralyn before her very eyes and then do the same to her. Rhaella closed her eyes as she tightened her hold on her babe, praying to the gods to have mercy on her children. But Rhaella had already learned a long time ago that the gods had left this cruel world a long time ago. She had learned that horrid truth when she had married Aerys. Yet… her brother and king had given her her children, and he had shown her that beauty and greatness truly could be born out of cruelness and madness.

''Where are the children!?'' A voice suddenly shouted, lethal and perilous. ''Where are the Targaryen bitch's children?''

At the man's words; Rhaella's heart thumped loudly. They have not caught Viserys and Daenerys, she understood with a lightened heart. Ser Willem must have found Viserys and been able to escape with them both… Rhaella suddenly looked down at the small child who was laying in her arms, the little girl whose eyes were still watching her with wonder, so shiny and clueless. Rhaella felt her heart drop, and she released a small, strangled cry again. She had killed Andralyn, she had killed her babe. If she had only given Andralyn to Ser Willem as well… then she would have been able to flee, been able to live. She had not had time; and she had brought her babe the same fate that had been brought upon all the other Targaryen children. Rhaella leaned down and pressed her cold and trembling lips to Andralyn's soft brow again, her salty tears running down her white cheek until they landed on her daughter's silver-white hair.

''I am so sorry, Andralyn…'' She cried. ''I am so sorry, my beautiful daughter.''

''I do not know,'' Rhaella could hear Annabella cry out to the men from outside her bedchamber, her voice so sad and frightened, and still she remained loyal even though the men must have a sword pressed against her throat.

Rhaella could feel fear fill her as she heard Annabella release a pained gasp before a low thudwas heard throughout the chamber; and Rhaella knew that they had murdered her friend just as shamelessly as they would murder her and her daughter within a few moments. Panic gripped her as she heard footsteps coming closer to her chamber, and she tried to do everything in her power to stand up; but her body was heavy, and her vision started to blur dangerously.

Andralyn gurgled in her arms, reaching for her hair once again; and Rhaella looked down at her small little babe, feeling her heart weakening. ''Please forgive me, my beautiful Andralyn…'' She cried out. ''I cannot do it. I cannot fight.''

She laid down on the bed again, before she gingerly placed Andralyn on her chest, and listened to her as she gurgled once again. The whole chamber smelled of blood and sweat; and Rhaella was certain that she only had a couple of moments left before she would join her kin, join her sweet Rhaegar, and she loathed herself for bringing Andralyn down with her… But Westeros was a cruel place, and Rhaella knew that she could protective Andralyn if she were to follow her to the place they all called death, could be the Mother she hoped to be for her.

Rhaella felt her breathing grow weaker, and her whole body went numb against the sheets; her fingertips slowly uncurling from Andralyn's fingers. She heard Andralyn release a cry again, just as she heard the men outside the chamber door try to push the door open again. Rhaella kept her fluttering eyes on her daughter; trying to remember beauty in a world that held so much ugliness. She felt her breathing getting weaker and weaker and weaker, until she could feel nothing anymore. It felt almost like a fallen star; like those shining and glittering things that she and Rhaegar would always try to witness at dark nights. Happiness engulfed her. She could see herself running through King's Landing with flowers in her fair hair, and she could feel the infinity in her heart. She could see Rhaegar who was always practicing sword-fighting with Ser Willem, and she remembered the way her heart had swelled up with pride as she had watched him from the balcony above. She could see Viserys being born, and that little gleeful look in his eyes as he always begged her to tell him the names of the dragons, and that joyful smile of his as he told her that hewould name his dragon to something much better. Rhaella could see Bonifer Hasty, with his dark hair and his dazzling blue eyes, and she wondered what her life could have been if she had been able to love him unconditionally, for she could still remember the way his shy lips had pressed against hers with most gentleness. She could see Daenerys and Andralyn, two small girls with hair as light as the snow; running around and laughing. There were no death there, no screams, no blood, and no madness.

She took a ragged breath, coldness corrupting her every sense. She released a small gasp of pain, tightening her slender arms around Andralyn who had started to cry because of the forceful pushes at the chamber-door. Rhaella Targaryen then distantly heard the oaken-doors open with a cruel thud, and she heard the horrid noise of men pouring through the heavy doors just to carefully approach them to where she was lying lifelessly upon the bloodied bed. Rhaella wanted to scream, to burn, to fight for her daughter. She wanted to tell them that they ought to have mercy on her child's life, for she was not her father. None of her children were ever her brother. They would not let the madness that had ran through Aerys' veins, and now theirs, consume them like her weak brother had done. Rhaella had raised them to be gentle people, with mercy and love in their hearts.

But Rhaella could do nothing against these cruel men, for her violet eyes fluttered close right before she saw the glittering sword in the man's hand, and the dark blood upon it, and her pale arms fell limply to her sides. Somewhere in her mind; she felt Andralyn being ripped away from her fallen embrace, although her small and weak fingers had gripped at her bloodied nightgown. And then darkness came; and Rhaella was far away when she felt the last tear that would ever fall from her eyes again gracefully slide down her ghostly pale cheek.

And that's how Rhaella Targaryen died; a victim to what only would be the beginning of the games of thrones.

Eddard

Eddard Stark hadn't expected it all to come to this.

He walked with easy steps, careful and calm and collected, although he was nothing of the sort. The dark boots he was wearing were loudly echoing throughout the halls, creating a haunted noise in its awake. Yet he was not certain that it was his footsteps that created such a sickening noise at all, or if it was simply this keep that had been filled with ghosts that would forevermore be trapped in the darkness of a monstrous madness. He knew, just like anyone else, what had occurred within these castle walls; and nothing could ever make them forget. Eddard almost expected to see the dark blood that had once been so alive - the walls that had once been untouched by tragedy, and only created staring eyes. But much to the Stark's surprise, it looked just as it had done before everything had happened, before Westeros had been drowned by dark-red fluid and great suffering. Eddard had almost expected - for he remembered his friend's fury that had always interrupted like a sudden blazing storm upon a calm sky - that Robert would take pleasure in seeing the Targaryen's blood upon the walls; enjoy seeing the lives that his accessions had taken.

He could still remember Robert's crazed blue eyes, could still hear his curses as he spoke of the Targaryens', and the fate he would bring them all; and Eddard finally realized that his close friend had done as promised… had destroyed a house so pure and powerful, and now taken their crown with his own fury, and deep grief. Eddard was not certain if he should feel that relief, as well; to know that his dear friend now sat upon the Iron Throne… but Eddard had no desire to walk in these halls again, could not think of anything but to return to the land he called Winterfell, where he could feel the cold snowflakes upon his heating skin, or where he could finally feel his heart being at peace again; and that was all that truly mattered within his heart now.

Yet here he was. Eddard was almost afraid to look to his side, afraid of meeting the sight that he knew was waiting for him. But on their own accord Eddard could feel his grey eyes flickering to his side; and that's when he saw them, their holes for eyes staring into his soul. They had that strange magic over him every time, like they somehow bewitched him in a way unknown. He halted in his movements, and his grey eyes watched them until he was certain that he must have gone mad as well. They were all here because of the Targaryen's dynasty; and Eddard was clueless as to why Robert hadn't decided to destroy these skulls as well, until there was nothing of the Targaryens' left, only pained memories that people would much rather only want to forget.

But they were all there, just as Eddard had witnessed them before, when they had been in King's Landing to visit; and he remembered watching them with his brother Brandon who had only rolled his eyes and pretended not to be interested in the legendary skulls, although Eddard had been able to see that glimpse of excitement in his brother's eyes. But there was something different about the white skulls now, they looked more fierce and mighty than they had the last time, like there was a power inside of them, like they knew exactly what had happened to their masters and people; and Eddard couldn't help but swallow at the sight before him. There were several skulls lined up on a line, and Eddard's grey eyes flickered to the mighty doors that held the Great Hall… and he knew that the biggest skulls would be kept inside of that room. What he was seeing now was only the dragons they called small, and much worse was to be seen.

Out of sheer instinct Eddard's calloused hand reached down and gripped his sheathed sword, and he clung to it like a starving man gripping food within his desperate reach. He was an experienced man, and he knew just as much as every man that was seasoned in deathly battles that one was truly in need of a weapon at time like this. The man took a deep breath, before he started to walk again, hearing his boots making that awful noise again all while the sword that hung at his waist clangwith every careful step he took. His eyes flickered to the large doors, and he watched as two muscular men that must be Robert's soldiers were keeping the Great Hall most carefully guarded.

Eddard walked closer to them, and he watched as their eyes startlingly travelled to him right before recognition hit them and drowned their eyes the same. Eddard truly wondered what the people in the south were whispering behind his back like a couple of fishwives; most likely about the great lost he had experienced, that everyone he had held dear to his heart had somehow vanished between his gripping fingers. Father. Brother. Sister… all gone, all slain. It was only the Quiet Wolf that remained with his small brother who was just as undone as him. It all made fury boil within him to know that people whispered behind his turned back, but Eddard knew that it was not an anger that was created because of them, but rather because of himself; for the thought that he could have somehow prevented it all still lingered in his mind at all times and made sleep at silent night an impossible task. No, it had all been the madness that had taken a form as a man named King Aerys' fault… but Eddard knew that everyone in the Seven Kingdoms had a bit of madness inside of them, and it had not only been the Mad King's fault; but everyones'. It was just so much easier to put the blame on a dead man, and tell oneself that the darkness had vanished, and that the light would come back to stay forever. It was so much easier to forget.

Eddard finally arrived before the two soldiers he did not recognize, and he halted before them. He only watched as the guards quickly nodded at him as if to acknowledge his presence in these halls; before they reached out for the doors that were made of oak banded with black iron and opened them for him, at last shuffling to the side to let him in. Eddard's grey eyes watched as the doors opened before him, and he could finally look into the mighty room. He carefully nodded his gratitude to the guards without a single word, before he forced his feet to move; and before he knew it he was inside the Great Hall once again, and he heard the mighty doors close with a loud and forcefulthud.

Eddard slowly looked up from his dark boots, and a piercing shiver ran down his spine just as a coldness swept over him, and not like the chilling cold that Winterfell held and he so strongly longed for; but a coldness he wanted to escape, but could not. The Great Hall was a room of beautifulness, and truly a sight for sore eyes. The floor was shining as the sun shone on it from outside the large windows. On the walls, Eddard caught sight of the hunting tapestries that decorated the room, the crowned black stag rampant on a golden field; representing House Baratheon in an elegant way, representing the new king. It was indeed a beautiful hall, but it held too many memories, too much history, too much blood, and too much lost love. Eddard swallowed thickly, and he grabbed the sword at his waist in a much tighter grip, feeling the cold handle finally turning his palm sticky with sweat.

The Stark finally looked upon the Iron Throne, the throne that had never seemed more powerful before. Like a man drowned with curiosity, but also filled with pure anguish and disgust; Eddard walked up to the monstrous throne until he stood where the Kingsguard shall stand. He slowly tilted his head up, and stared at the throne as if he was a man seeking for an answer, and in that moment Eddard understood that he was. The Iron Throne was a monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal. There were thousands of blades sticking out from the mighty throne, glistening and shining in the light; and Eddard wondered exactly how many lives this throne had taken and if he even wanted to know. Ageon I Targaryen, the first king of the Seven Kingdoms made the throne from the sword surrounded by his enemies, and it is said that it took thousands of dangerous and sharp blades to form, all heated in the breath of his powerful and feral dragon.

The back was danged with steel which made it impossible to lean back, and Eddard remembered what Old Nan had once told him when he was nothing but a small boy; ''The dragon king Ageon I had it made that way, with sharp steel sticking out and poking him in the back whenever he wanted to ease back and rest from his duties, when he did not sit as a king ought to… and all because he ordered it deliberately. Everyone thought of the man as mad, but the wise dragon only told them that a king never should sit easy…'' Eddard looked up at the throne again, and he could finally understand what the old woman had told him, and he discovered the truth that was hidden beneath those words. It was said that the Mad King had always cut himself upon the sharp steel, and that the throne itself had caused the death of hundreds of innocent people. The Mad King had never been a true king, but had only been a man that had been driven to madness until he had died because of his own accessions.

It does not matter anymore, Eddard thought to himself, the dragons are all dead now.

Suddenly, a loud boom could be heard throughout the large hall, and Eddard chastely turned around, the hand around his sword twitching and tightening as if he feared that someone were to jump on him. His worries faded though, as he saw two - all too familiar - men standing by the reopened doors. Eddard felt his heart uncontrollably squeeze within his chest at the sight. The man that had been his friend since he was but a boy stood now as tall as a king, just as he ought to do as the crown that had been made as a golden stag was now glistening upon his head.

Eddard inspected his friend. Robert's shaggy dark hair remained unkempt, reaching down to his muscular and broad shoulders. His brightening blue eyes were fierce, and his tall frame stood straight and unbroken. It was clear in every movement that something was strongly bothering his friend, Eddard had learned to see that dangerous glimpse in Robert's blue eyes a long time ago. There was a scar across his friend's face, small… but red and irritating; and Eddard did not remember seeing that scar upon Robert's face moons before when he had last seen him. Robert was dressed in fine clothes, and it felt almost surreal to Eddard to see him in such dignified clothes. It felt as if Robert had always worn that boiled leather and that heavy and unbuckled armor that had always shone in the darkness by virtue of the moonlight's haunting strays. Now though, he wore a long and black tunic that was wool with gold, as if to present his house, and dark breeches that looked ridiculously thin. The man that stood before him was clearly not the dirty and obstinate and headstrong man Eddard had once known, for this man before him was a king.

To his right, Jon Arryn stood just like the man Eddard remembered. The older man's white hair had also grown awfully much since Eddard last had seen him, but not as long as Robert's, and unlike both Robert and Eddard; Jon kept his grey-white hair trimmed and well cut. Jon's tall frame had grown more slender, and Eddard was certain that he had lost awfully much weight. Eddard felt his stomach clench at the sight of the older man, and it was almost unbelievably that he hadn't understood how much he had missed Jon as well. He was a wise man, Eddard knew, and he had learned more than he had ever hoped for. He is almost as good with words as the cunning Maester Luwin, Eddard thought to himself, which is a task that I have always thought impossible. Eddard still had his eyes upon Jon Arryn as the older man's blue eyes found him; and he watched as a great smile was placed upon his thin lips, showing Eddard that several of his teeth had been knocked out, if the older man had not already begun to drop them all.

Like a sudden wind interrupting the calm sky, the Stark watched as Robert's eyes chastely found him as well, and Eddard could feel a brotherly love for his friend as he watched Robert's stormy blue eyes lighten for his close friend. ''Ah, Ned!'' Robert's booming voice called out, his voice lit up and his laughter loud.

Before Eddard truly knew it; Robert was marching forward to him, and the Stark could only but open his arms as they suddenly embraced as the two close friends they were. Eddard remembered all the times he had embraced Robert, before all of this madness had interrupted; and he could still feel the smell of saltwater and wood and sweat, as his homeland was just beside the beautiful Shipbreaker Bay. But Robert did not smell like Storm's End any longer; but more like dust and stone and sun… more like the pithole they named King's Landing. Still, Eddard embraced Robert the same; and he found himself doing what he had so strongly commanded himself that he wouldn't do. He closed his eyes and imagined that everything was still the same, that nothing had vanished and left; and Eddard loathed himself for not being stronger, for still living a life that was no longer his reality. When the two men finally departed, Eddard felt Robert put his calloused, strong, powerful hands on his shoulders and shook him as he released a laughter again, making Eddard feel the awful smell of Dornish wine on his warm breath.

''Your bastard,'' Robert exclaimed again, clapping his hand harder down on his shoulder. ''You have been goddamned missed…''

Eddard couldn't help but smile, and he rose his eyebrows in amusement. ''Oh, have I?''

Robert beamed, ''More than I truly going to admit.'' He spoke with humor. ''It has been too long.. I have too many stories to tell you,'' His eyes narrowed in affect, ''Gods, the girls in this city, Ned… They are impeccable, and they will do everything and anything you ask of them… I am no longer certain that they are doing it because of my good looks, or if it is the crown on my head. Ha! Ha!'' Robert's spoke him loudly, before he roared a laughter, clearly amused by his own crude joke.

Eddard only smiled at his friend, but his eyes drifted to Jon as he slowly walked up behind Robert, blue eyes locking with Eddard's grey. As Robert watched his friend's attention settling somewhere else, he turned around and watched Jon Arryn as well. Eddard could have sworn that he felt his friend's happiness quickly seep away, and a boiling fury returned as his back strained and his knuckles curled to shaking fists. There were something in Jon Arryn's wise eyes that told Eddard that he was not simply summoned out of a friendly request, but rather for something much more important. Even as Eddard had received the words that he were to return to King's Landing after he was halfway on his way to Winterfell, to home; Eddard had never truly understood why. He could not understand why he had not been able to return to Winterfell, like he had dreamed of doing so many nights. He wanted to return to Cat, whom he had received a raven from as she informed him of the son she had birthed for him. Robb, she had named him; and Eddard had never in his life longed for home as much as he had then. He wanted nothing more than to hold his son in his arms, to finally witness the son that his lady wife had so strongly tried to describe for him in her letters. It had not made any sense to return south, and he knew that his lady wife would be angry at him for maneuvering his horse when he was so close to them. Eddard was uncertain of everything. All he truly wanted was to go home. He could only pray that the old gods would finally let him meet his family before long, before it drove him mad.

Eddard's thoughts were abruptly interrupted when he could hear boots approaching them; and he was cruelly snapped back to reality. It was always hard to think of home, and then return to the cruel reality he was living within. And Eddard knew that he could do nothing but get filled with pain, and it hurt just as much as it had done when he was clothed in armor, and sitting on-top of his horse, waiting to attack the enemy on the battlefield. Home would forever give him peace and love whenever he had nothing; but it was also a weakness he could not afford. Before he truly knew it, Jon Arryn stood before them; and Eddard's grey eyes flickered back to him just as he sensed that the older man was to speak.

''Your Grace,'' Jon addressed to Robert, who gloomily grumbled under his breath. ''This must be done now, I am afraid.''

Robert's stormy eyes returned to Jon, and his lips pursed dangerously. ''Bloody hell,'' Eddard heard Robert curse beneath his breath, before he mumbled other crude words that he could not comprehend. Finally, Eddard watched as Robert stood straighter, although he was clearly in a fit of rage. When the Stark looked back at Jon Arryn, he witnessed that the older man was watching the king with expected eyes, as if he was waiting for the muscular man to do something; and Robert's fists tightened further, and his body shook with fury as he finally looked back at Eddard.

''Seven Hells,'' he cursed again, voice shaking with hidden fury. ''Fine… Follow me, Ned…''

With that, Robert turned around his mighty form; and he instantly started to march out from the Great Hall again, his steps rigid and ironclad, his frame unbowed and powerful. Eddard only looked back at Jon Arryn with clueless eyes, a silent plead for an answer that seemed to want to stay in the dark. Yet when he heard Robert let out a curse again; Eddard carefully started to walk after his friend, all while his mind was trying to find an explanation to all of this. Eddard truly wanted to speak up and ask where they were going, but knowing that being quiet was probably a better course of action; he decided to wait and see exactly what was so important that they had, once again, prevented him from travelling home to Winterfell.

Before him, Robert was walking like a man possessed by anger as Eddard and Jon followed him out through the Great Hall, and this behavior of his made Eddard certain that something was terribly wrong. They walked through the mighty halls with quick steps, as both Jon and Eddard had to walk more briskly to keep up with Robert's steps that were most likely controlled by the fury that seemed to have taken root deep within his heart. Before long, Robert halted in his movements, and the sudden stop made Eddard's dark eyebrows furrow. His eyes quickly inspected his surrounding, but found nothing than seemed to be worth stopping for. But then he witnessed a single door in the end of the hall, and Eddard's stomach knitted together painfully as he caught sight of five members of the Kingsguard standing on the outside. Eddard remembered a few of them, men like Ser Barristan and Ser Meryn and Ser Boros. They were all good knights, and Eddard knew that whatever there was inside of that chamber they were so carefully guarding - it was something deathly feral. The chilly tension that Robert had created now hung in the air most heavily; and Eddard watched as the king finally cracked his knuckles right before he slowly started to walk towards the door again.

Before long, they arrived before the chamber door; and the Stark watched as the five knights chastely kneeled down before their king. Eddard's eyes lingered on Ser Barristan, who he remembered had sworn his loyalty to the Targaryens before the rebellion… It is no wonder, Eddard thought to himself as he watched the older man kneel down before Robert as well. A man's words of loyalty is not to be trusted. They will bow before everyone if they were to lose their swords in battle.

Ser Barristan rose from his knees again, ''Your Grace,'' he addressed Robert. ''No one has been granted entrance, as commanded.''

Robert nodded gloomily at the man. ''Keep it that way, good ser.'' He told him, before his voice mockingly said, ''We would not want anyone to slay it…''

Ser Barristan's blue eyes slightly narrowed, but his mouth remained shut, but although so the Stark was most certain that he had been able to witness a glimpse of revulsion in the older man's eyes. But Eddard had no time to think over Ser Barristan's cold eyes nor Robert's words, because before he knew it; the new king knowingly nodded towards the guards and Ser Boros and Ser Meryn moved to grant them permission to enter the locked chamber. The oaken-doors dangerously creaked when they were finally opened, and Eddard watched with confused eyes as Robert once again mumbled a curse before he entered the chamber with chaste steps, moving as if he would much rather have this over and done with, or as if he was simply disgusted by just being near this particle chamber. Eddard quickly shook his head, before his eyes drifted to Ser Barristan who was still looking after the king with icy eyes, his lips dangerously pursed. He took a deep breath, and walked into the chamber just before Jon did the same.

Firstly, he was meet with nothing but complete darkness. It was clear that the sun that shone from the blue sky could not reach its lightness inside of this chamber; and Eddard found himself having to squint his grey eyes slightly to catch sight of the chamber before him. When his eyes finally comprehend to his surroundings Eddard could see that it was only but a normal chamber. It was awfully small, and held no importance of any sort. His eyes drifted through the chamber again, trying to get an answer for that unspoken question that had so long lingered in his mind. The castle-walls were cracked, and many dark and deep splits were to be seen. There were only but a simple window, and the view one could witness from that window was not one that of beauty; but rather only a great and dark part of the other castle tower; shading the chamber from the sun and the beautiful view that Eddard had to admit was something that made King's Landing such an exquisite place.

But there was nothing elegant with this small and dark chamber, and it looked much more like a dungeon than an actual chamber that someone would desire to sleep the night in. The Stark only inspected the small chamber one last time before his grey eyes flickered back to Robert again, who was standing only a few inches away from him, his back just as strained and his breaths coming out in short breaths. The Stark was just about to speak up until he caught sight of Robert's eyes; and he felt his mouth shut again instantly, his tongue heavy and wickedly twisted. Much to Eddard's surprise, Robert was looking at something in the corner of the dark chamber, while his jaw clenched as hard as iron. Eddard followed the direction his friend was looking; and he felt his stomach clench painfully as he witnessed a shadow in the corner, a shadow taking a form in something that could not be the truth.

And then he heard a small and pure noise, like a voice that sounded so innocent and frightened that it was enough to tie his insides in knots. His breath faltered, and it felt almost as if time had stopped for a split moment, like he was swaying between madness and sanity; and he wondered if he would ever understand the difference again. He could feel Robert bristle before him as he heard the same sound, and the noise of his knuckles cracking could be heard throughout the chamber as well. Eddard's eyes travelled back to the shadow he now certainly knew was a crib. Before he knew it; his feet moved without his mind acknowledging it… and everything somehow seemed so strange and unrealistic. Soon, his hands gripped the crib that was made out of dark and cold wood; and he took a deep breath, frightened of the sight he knew he would witness within seconds. Finally, Eddard slowly looked down to see what was inside of the small crib; and he was struck by surprise in the worst way possible and his lips parted in pure wonder. He was certain he was seeing a ghost, for it could not possibly be the real truth before him. Eddard was certain that the gods couldn't possibly be so cruel. But if this was the truth he was seeing; Eddard was certain that the gods had left this world a long time ago.

A babe with hair as white as genuine snow and eyes holding a violet color was peacefully lying inside of the broken crib. It was such a small little thing, so weak and frail and powerless. Eddard looked down with confused eyes, watching the small little babe's lilac eyes finally staring up at him, before it slowly started to squirm in the little bed; and Eddard could clearly see that the child was sad and frightened and lost to a world it shouldn't live in, not anymore. The Stark swallowed thickly, watching the small babe's fair hair, and after such a long time.. he could finally remember the color of the snowflakes that fell from the skies in Winterfell. The small child let out a small whimper, twitching and reaching up its small hand as if it was trying to reach for something, or someone that could finally pick her up. The chamber remained quiet as Eddard stared down at the little babe, and he didn't even need words anymore; for he knew exactly what this little child was… and why they had summoned him, it had never been as clear before. The Targaryen children were all butchered in their sleeps, Eddard thought to himself. They are all supposed to be dead.

But yet here it was, a child with silver-white hair and violet eyes; and it was still breathing while all in her family did not. As if the babe could hear his thoughts, it let out a small cry and Eddard watched as the child's lilac eyes were filled with glossy tears, and its pale cheeks turned a shade of pink. Its small fingers reached up again, and this time Eddard watched as Jon Arryn slowly approached them before he gently reached down and grabbed its small fingers. When the babe comprehended the touch of another, its tears vanished and it settled quietly again. Eddard inspected the child again, and it was like someone pinched his heart when he could see the shades of Prince Rhaegar in those eyes and that hair… and Eddard knew that although this babe may not be feral, its flaming blood definitely was.

''Gods have mercy,'' Eddard heard himself breathe moments later. ''This cannot.. It is not possible.''

Jon Arryn's blue eyes never left the babe as he finally spoke up into the silenced chamber, ''She was named Andralyn Targaryen just before Queen Rhaella died with her babe still bloody in her arms…'' Jon's eyes finally flickered to Eddard, and the Stark could do nothing but listen with a thumping heart that would not settle right. ''She was caught at the ancestral seat of Dragonstone, ripped from her dead mother's arms.'' Eddard remembered the Queen Rhaella, a beautiful woman that always looked so unbelievably pained whenever she sat beside her king husband. She was a fair lady, with silver-white hair that always tumbled down her back and violet haunted eyes that caught any man and caged them. Eddard could only but feel pity for the beautiful lady, for having to have her children ripped away from her so brutally. Suddenly, Jon Arryn spoke up again, ''But she was not the only babe that was birthed from Rhaella and Aerys…'' Eddard's eyes flickered up to Jon in surprise and wonder. ''The Dragon Queen was awaiting twins… two small princesses. But Ser Willem Darry was only able to escape with her elder brother, Viserys, and her twin-sister Daenerys… Those who took Dragonstone told us that Ser Willem tried to go back for Andralyn as well, but it was already too late as she had already been caught and brought here to King's Landing.''

Eddard only shook his head, ''He will be back for her…'' He promised, looking back at both Robert and Jon as if they had gone mad. ''Ser Willem is a loyal man, and a fine warrior… He swore his life to the Targaryens, and he will return for this… small babe…''

Into the chamber, Robert snorted ungracefully. ''Ser Willem Darry is an old little shit and is now one of the most hunted men in Westeros, and if he would even fucking think the simple thought of returning to my kingdom; I will have his filthy head on a spike for everyone to show exactly what happens when you stand on the Mad King's side and betray my direct orders.'' Robert's mood was as black as the chamber, and he marched up to Eddard before he looked at him with stormy blue eyes. ''No one will blame you if you were to say no to this, Ned; they will understand if we were to kill her…'' Robert looked down in the crib where Andralyn laid peacefully, her lilac eyes closed and her breaths heavy. And although this small babe was as innocent as could be, there was neither pity nor kindness in the look Robert gave her. ''She's a Targaryen, she's the sister of the man that rapedLya, Ned.. She deserved nothing more than the pain and blood her ancestors brought all of us… everyone knows that just as well as you and me.''

Jon Arryn's voice had never been as icy as he spoke up, ''And what will the people do if their new king were seen to murder as brutally as the one before?'' He told Robert, and the Stark was surprised by the amount of power in his wise words. ''Reluctant lords will not think twice before rising up against you, Robert.''

Robert's dark eyes turned to Jon Arryn, and Eddard could see the way he wanted to lash out on the older man, but just like Eddard; Robert knew that Jon only spoke the truth and it only made his fury boil so much more. Instead of saying what the king so clearly desired, he pursed his lips, ''Seven Hells…'' He finally cursed. ''Just take her away before I snap her little throat myself and do what should be done.''

With those last crude words, Robert instantly turned around his muscular and tall frame; and Eddard could only but watch with gloomy eyes as his close friends marched out from the chamber with angry and loud footsteps, the heavy doors slamming powerfully in his leave. Eddard thought of it almost as cruel, for someone to want this little girl murdered like the ones before. She had done no fault but being born from her mother's womb, and having the same coloring as her house. But Eddard knew that Robert had become a broken man because of much more than his rebellion and the lives he had taken on the dangerous battlefields... No, it was because of his sister Lya who had so shamelessly taken his heart all while she had no intention of doing such; and Eddard knew that Robert wanted nothing more than to see all the Targaryens dead because of his love for her, the love that had caged him and made him so cruel and mindless.

But he did not know everything… Robert's head had always been too thick to see the clear signs before his very eyes. No, his friend would forevermore live while blinded by the darkness that was the light for someone else, and Eddard could do nothing but watch his friend get consumed by it all. But Eddard knew that the truth did not always make sense in the eyes of the unknown, and he was most certain that the dark truth would bring nothing but more pain and darkness and blood if he was to ever tell the broken king what he had witnessed and understood. Truly, Eddard wanted to tell his friend everything but he had promised, and he was powerless to do anything else but obey, for he could still hear her voice at silent nights when sleep would not come for him... her voice which had been so weak and frail and desperate… And Eddard knew that he would forever keep that promise, until his dying breath on this cruel world. It was more important than any vow he had ever taken.

Just as the cruel thud was heard throughout the chamber, the small babe in the broken crib woke up again. Eddard listened to her cries disrupt the sweet silence again, and he helplessly looked down at the small crying girl. He knew why he stood here now, why Robert told him that he could say no; he knew everythingthat was expected of him. Eddard thought about it, thought about the small girl that was still weeping in the broken crib… and somehow his mind maneuvered to the small child he and Cat had made together; Robb. His son was only but a little babe himself, only but one nameday older than the silver-white hair babe before him, and Eddard knew with all of his heart that he would slay any man that dared to hurt his son. For truly Andralyn was just as innocent as his own son; and he knew he had lost the battle with himself the moment he had compared the Targaryen babe with his own son that waited for him in his mother's arms. She was just as Jon as well; Gods, Jon… the small little babe who was wrapped up in warm furs and waiting for him to do his business in here as well. Just like the small babe with dark hair and grey, Stark eyes…. Andralyn was a lost soul than needed love and tending. They were only but children, whatever their names were or how they looked; and if Westeros would ever be a land of peace Eddard knew that he needed to do this. He had vowed a promise that was not unlike this one; and he was meant to keep it because of his honor and duty and family and love.

Eddard finally looked up from the small babe to see that Jon Arryn was still watching him. ''You mean for me to take her home to Winterfell.''

Jon Arryn nodded knowingly, ''She ought to be safe there.'' His eyes flickered to the heavy doors that Robert had marched out from in his fit of feral rage. ''I do not trust to keep her here, not with Robert, not with the Lannisters roaming around… not with anyone.'' He smiled gingerly, although he did not look delighted. Eddard could clearly see that Jon would rather have Andralyn under his own protection, maybe in the Vale of Arryn where he could keep his eyes on her; but when Eddard had declined the offer to be Robert's Hand, Jon had had no choice but to accept. The Stark could clearly understand why he did not want to keep the small Targaryen babe in King's Landing, where they say lies drowns he city whole and the blood of innocents are carved into the stones.

Jon Arryn licked his chapped lips again, ''The North is the only place she can truly be away from all of this… You are the only one I trust with her life, Ned.'' He said, before he slowly walked closer to him. ''You are Robert's oldest and most loyal friend, and is is only with you that I can rest peacefully at nights without having to return to a chamber to look if she is still breathing… Ned, I beg of you as a man with no other reasonable course of action.. Find mercy in your heart and take Andralyn under your roof as your sworn ward and keep her within the icy walls of Winterfell. Teach her the new ways, and make her loyal to the new crown; and brush away any sign of madness that may run deep within her veins from her Father.''

Eddard's grey eyes were cold as he asked, ''And what if she is her father's daughter?'' He shook his head, ''Aerys' madness took everyone by surprise. He was like any other man before he finally snapped and became the lethal dragon that breathed fire upon the innocence as he butchered and murdered everyone who dared not to do as he desired.'' Truly, the Stark did not want to think such deviled thoughts; but he had no desire to see such a cruel madness in this world again. ''What if she becomes exactly what her father was?''

Jon's blue eyes did not show any sign of emotion as he coldly replied, ''Then we have tried and failed… and Robert can do as he please.''

Eddard swallowed hard, but did not speak.

Jon sighed, before he finally reached out and put his warm hand over Eddard's clothed shoulder, ''But we would be no better men than The Mad King if we were to murder an innocent child, would we?'' His words were just as wise and truthful as they always were, and the Stark couldn't help but let a small, grim smile place itself on his lips. ''We can give her a chance, and when the rightful time comes; the choice of madness is Andralyn's to decide.'' Jon Arryn's blue eyes almost burned him when he finally asked, ''Are you willing to do this, Ned?''

Eddard looked down at the small babe again; and he knew that the answer to this decision of his would forever be the greatest thing he had ever decided, or the most perilous one. Nonetheless, he could only think about Robb and Jon; and how the murder of a child would forevermore be the most horrible thing a man could ever commit. So when he finally watched as Andralyn's lilac eyes slowly reopened and her vision caught sight of him; Eddard couldn't help but let a small and sincere smile place itself upon his thin lips. She was abandoned by the family that should be here to love her, to protect her; just as the wolves does when the cold winter winds blows. And although Andralyn was a dragon, Eddard had no doubt in his heart that the wolves could keep her safe and warm, and protect her from harm. Because somewhere in his mind he could still smell the dark blood in his nostrils, and he could still see all those cities lying in dust and ruins. And truly, the Quiet Wolf was tired of it all, and all he wanted was to return to Winterfell and feel love again, feel like the man he once was. Eddard knew that he would do this; for fire and ice, and for the memories that still lingered in his mind and would forevermore.

But what Eddard didn't know was that as the new war slowly creeped closer, and as the feral lions would roar their dark lies and betrayals in the south, and as the dragon would rise again and speak in a voice as powerful as the blood running through her veins across the Narrow Sea, and as the wolf would be crowned in the North, and as the living death would come back for them all from beyond the Wall; Andralyn Targaryen, The Dragon of Winter, would be just as feral as feared.

Thank you so much for reading :*