Chapter Text
The Narrator
During the dance of dragons there were only four that made it out of the battle. Among them was the largest of the four wild dragons, the cannibal, the mighty beast that was never claimed and never would be. Dragons were fire made flesh, but they were also being of nature. A perfect storm, one dragon is all that is needed to bring back the magic and allow eggs to hatch.
Many thought that the Cannibal had died, that there was no way that he could live longer than Vhagar or Balerion, that he surely must have been dead. Yet after the storming of the dragon pit, he was one of the few if not the only dragon left. The end of the dance was at 130 ac now 152 years later in the year 282 the Cannibal was alive and well.
Hidden in the dragon mount deep in the bowels of the mount is the Cannibal, the Cannibal was Black as coal, with menacing green eyes. He was the largest and oldest of the wild dragons and as the maester stated dragons’ reproduction varied. Two dragons are not needed to lay clutches of eggs.
According to Archmaester Gyldayn, and agreed upon by Maester Yandel, the ability of a dragon to lay eggs is proof that said dragon is female. When a dragon is never observed to have laid eggs, this is taken as proof that it must have been male. However, according to Barth and Maester Aemon, dragons have no fixed gender, but are now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. Barth believed that dragons could change sex as needed and he did not know how right he was.
The Cannibal, much like the Targaryens sensed the need for dragons, began to lay clutches that never hatched. Now Rhaegar Targaryen was searching in the deepest recess of the caves on the dragon mount. Hoping to find the mighty beast that would lead to the salvation of his people His father was growing madder by the day eventually that madness would lead a war that right now no one could afford picking a fight at this point would be suicide.
Snubbing the lion for the spear was not something that Rhaegar found wise. But try telling his father that and it would have been high treason. So now he was groping in the dark with desperation trying to find something that would resolve the problem. That would ensure the song of ice and fire would have the tools needed to unite the realms.
So, in his desperate search he went hoping to find the last hope for his family. Dragons. Though there was no way for him to know, they only mad hope that the wild Cannibal left some eggs in its wake.
A sense of giddy joy rushed over Rhaegar in a never-ending wave threatening to drown him, the island was in an uproar struggling to find him, but he would not be found. Not until he got what he came for, he walked in here with an empty satchel and he wanted to leave with one filled with eggs.
The vast darkness threatened to swallow Rhaegar whole, the scent of sulfur slithering through his nose like a snake curling tightly around his brain trying to choke his rational thought. Eyes threatening to turn blurry but the scent of death rippling through him only brought a greater sense of joy. This sent to him was undeniable; it was the scent of dragons. Surely, he would find something of excellent value.
Dragonmont is a volcano on the island of Dragonstone in the crownlands known to once house dragons and Rhaegar hoped that it would soon house his family's dragons again. The activity of the volcano gave rise to the island. The castle of Dragonstone is a small fortress located on the face of the mountain.
Seeing the dark stone and daunting gargoyles and stone dragons would have scared anyone else. It scared most taunting them with nightmares and whispers in their heads from all the people that died in this castle. A dragon fury haunts the halls to this day. At least in the mind of the fish folk that remember the day that dragon once lived on these hollow shores.
Late at night when the storms were raging, and Rhaegar was plagued with images of dragons he swore that he could hear the roar of them and the clapping of their wings late at night.
After months of hearing, it ever since he thought about his children being brought into this world increasingly it was the only thought that Rhaegar could process. One of dragons and hope, and hope that one day his family would return to the height of their power before the dance before so many dragons deaths both Targaryen and dragon lives.
Back during the year of 130 AC the Cannibal lived in the eastern mount that is where Rhaegar searched desperately. Rhaegar walked until his lungs burned and his body felt broken down. Eyes glassy desperately searching, needing a rest before going on, though his body said to stop his mind was rushing telling him to keep going with all of this might. That there was a light at the end of this tunnel.
Despite the pain and the venom surging in his mouth as he swallowed his bile doing his best to keep his breakfast down Rhaegar moved forward through the darkness the further in the cave that he got the more that he could see small flickers of lights. They were glinting on the ground and in the walls like precious gemstones luminous in the light.
There was no way for Rhaegar to know if there were any dragon eggs that would be any use. The cannibal got its name for a reason there was no way to know if its own eggs would be safe.
Rhaegar’s legs were steady carrying him through the cave. The further he got the more he noticed the shimmering gems. Knowing that the wrong move could cause a whole mess of problems he was careful. Though he just could not help himself, fingers moved with child-like wonder curling around the glittering rocks.
They were rough to the touch and changing in colors. Somewhere deep crimson others were a pale blue, some were a mix. Others were slick and black at night while others were as pure as snow and radiant.
They were as large as stone, and they were natural on their side. Rhaegar knew what they were before they were even mentioned aloud. Dragon eggs. Surely if there were eggs there must be a dragon. Wading through the muck and bones Rhaegar moved forward hoping to find a living dragon.
Something that would chase away the war slowly creeping across the horizon, he knew that eventually with his father’s cruelty and madness he would no longer be safe. Rhaegar’s eyes began to water and the scent of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, fingers gripping at eggs collecting four shoving them in the satchel before moving further into the cave wanting to pick out the next three eggs.
Rhaegar pushed forward, eyes locked on the goal, there were plenty of eggs shining through the dragon glass but none of them called out to him. It was not until he got closer and closer to the dragon's lair that he noticed.
Bones burnt black, some looked to be sheep heads, others were the bones of missing people or even small dogs and cats, even large animals. The most startling sight though had to be the eggs the closer to the den that he got the larger the eggs seemed to be, the eggs belong to a fierce dragon that seemed to be laying clutches of eggs for years, more than enough to keep the cannibal well fed and still have plenty of eggs left over for the next generations of dragon riders.
Rhaegar knew that while the sight was startling and exciting that he could never mention this to his father. He knew that man’s madness and need for power would drive him to create another tragedy like Summerhall and he would not allow his children and wife to be injured in the venture he would have to keep hidden.
Getting closer to the danger his guard was up and he noticed in the middle of the den covered with bones and death there rested three jewels that shimmered bright then the other eggs and these were three times the size of the ones that he had his in satchel.
Looking at the jewels shining in the dark Rhaegar drank in the sight as he took a step forward wanting to reach out and examine them better. Noticing all three were massive in size they were assorted colors all together. The egg in the middle was pure white like untrampled snow.
The egg sitting beside it resting in the middle was black as the night with swirls of crimson-like blood mixed into tar glinting in the light. The final egg to the right was an egg the color of blood with swirls of Black people running through the eggs. Knowing that they were something special Rhaegar quickly snatched them from the ground, his heart thundering and his blood rushing in his ears, rational thoughts mixing into that of fantasy as he watched the darkness slowly starting to shift.
Slowly moving, taking the shape of a mighty beast, the power in Rhaegar's legs threatened to fail him as he forced his heart to steady. There was a reason that the Cannibal remained wild after all this time and Rhaegar knew getting too close could spell his death before he got the chance to return these eggs to his family. He should have known the eggs resting in the middle of the den were a threat and trap inching him forcefully.
The darkness took the shape of a dragon slithering in the dark as bright green eyes menacing and glinting locked on Rhaegar, they said that the Cannibal was Black as the night, and they were right. Menacing eyes locked on Rhaegar threatening to lock him in place heat rippled over the beast scaly skin.
Large dagger shaped teeth gleamed shiny and dangerous, a massive head moved forward hovering in front of him, flaring black nostrils that blew sulfur against Rhaegar’s face. If not for the Targaryen blood rushing through his veins he knew that he would have been dead.
Rhaegar did not break eye contact, but he knew he had to get away Rhaegar began to take slow steps back, not foolish enough to think that he would be the one to tame the dragons after centuries of it being wild. Rhaegar clenched tightly to the eggs stalking out slowly, not once taking his eyes off the dragon.
Knowing the moment that he did, the beast would snatch at him threatening to send him to meet the fourteen flames. Steadily he crept out of the den and into the sun rising from the entrance as he hoped the mighty beast would not burst forth and snatch him whole.
Knowing no one would believe him, thinking that he was as mad as his father, Rhaegar would keep what he saw to himself for now. Though he would come to regret that choice, Rhaegar sequestered the eggs away for a time when he could hatch time and present them to his children. Though he would never get the chance to see the hatchlings for himself.
In the year 282 the rebellion was raging. All eyes were on Robert and his army, none of them noticing the thunderous growls escaping the dragonmount. As blood soaked the kingdoms as they ripped each other apart the dragon was feeding off the energy, the death growing larger and stronger. This is where the story begins.
Lyanna
I could tell that there was something wrong as I looked at the chest cracking it open ever so slightly, I could see Darksister and Blackfyre glinting in the light. The power that rippled from the flames drinking the light in. Sitting in front of the swords were three eggs, one was bigger than the rest was one of pure snow glimmering in the morning light.
The golden light pooling in from the harsh desert of Dorne forced my heart to rush as I looked at the largest egg. It reminded me of the snow I used to ride on with my horse. The other eggs were ones of smooth gray like that of the dire wolf that rushed against my family's coat of arms, it was about half the side of the white egg.
Finally, the last of the eggs was a deep blue egg the color of the sky. The sight of them filled me with doubt, I knew that magic was real, that dragons had once been real. Rhaegar told me about his journey with the eggs and I knew that he was not mad that it truly happened.
How could I think otherwise when I could go in and out of the mind of birds, wolves, and horses. I knew that there were things beyond rational thought. But the thought that these stone eggs were ever going to hatch filled me with doubt, but I had no choice but to hope against all odds with the war knocking on my front door begging to come in.
Sighing heavily, I collapsed backwards into my bed. My skin was clammy and cold and the cool breeze that rustled through the blank empty tower forced me to shiver slightly but as I clutched my son, I felt a shift in the air. Wondering for a moment what he might think about all of this, about the war raging outside, about his father’s hope that the eggs could be hatched. I did not know but the tension racking my body screamed that eventually this war would rage for years or only a few more minutes. I knew that further down the line it would reach fever pitch.
I looked back to the chest resting underneath the eggs was a letter from Rhaegar. Something told me that he knew he was not going to make it out alive. In a sense of desperation Rhaegar left a letter to each of his children and his siblings. Detailing his account of meeting the Cannibal and where to find more eggs. He wrote it in high Valyrian knowing that the language was dead in the west.
I had hoped that he would never have to read that letter, though I knew that luck was not on my side, I would have to give him that letter one day. Clutching my baby to my chest as he suckled at my breast, I could see in his eyes that there was a pain there that was not there before. Smooth gray eyes almost black, and thick black curls. His coloring screams Stark but his face is the same ethereal beauty of his father, to see him made my heart ache knowing that this was the last piece of Rhaegar that I had left.
I wished that I could be filled with joy but my son, not even a few months old, was left without a father and only dragon eggs to ease his pain. I knew that eventually Ned would come for me, and I was torn. Filled with rage, one that I thought would turn me bitter if I let it and a part of me wanted to let it. It was easier to be angry about all of this because a man thought he had a right to me.
I was marrying him for the sake of my father's hunger for power, not for any love that I bore him. I was more than willing to do my duty until I saw Rhaegar. I forsake my duty to love and that was something that I would have to live with. I knew that I helped to plunge this country into war.
I did not know what would become of my son. I was no longer a maiden, and I was married to Rhaegar. Robert would have me killed. Would he have my son killed? Would I be forced to marry him? I did not know indecisiveness ate away at me. Would I be dead by the end of the day? Would my son? Confusion whirled around me as I thought about my choices.
“Lyanna are you alright?” Arthur spoke in a sweet voice.
Violet eyes filled with fear and worry there were grim looks on his face as he loomed over me turning to look at the golden sands as a heavy frown formed on his face as he looked over to me. His body was stiff and cold. I knew that he was coming to tell me that Rhaegar was dead, but I already knew that.
“Rhaegar is dead, how will I ever be okay again?” My voice was flat and monotone.
My mind was weary, my shoulders were hanging as I looked down at Daemon, his sweet gray eyes locked on Arthur. Arthur refused to look at me out of cordiality and being polite, instead his eyes were locked on the horizon as he let out a heavy breath. There was this weary look on his face. I knew that there was more to the story then.
“There is more isn't there” I spoke again this time I could sense the change in the air.
Something dark and cruel came into the air as Arthur nodded his head. I knew that he was grieving that Rhaegar was his best friend. He lost a man that he loved like a brother he might as well have lost a piece of himself for what he was at it.
“Robert sacked the city, the Lannister’s killed Elia but not before their men raped her then cut her in half, bashed in Aegon's head and slaughtered Rhaenys. We can only assume that someone will be coming here soon to collect you and kill Daemon. It is a good chance that it will be Ned coming for you, but I cannot be sure of that. Now the Wardens have all been summoned to the capital. Soon if something is not done there will be a fleet around dragon stone that will overtake them. Rhaella sent Viserys away with one of the eggs, the one of blood red and black but she and the babe to come are still trapped. She sent Viserys to meet the Griffin who knows how long they will be able to stay hidden, unknown to the spies of the throne. He was made heir in the decisive moments of the king; Daemon had no claim to the throne; his father was disowned right before the battle of the trident. We cannot assume that means Daemon will be safe. Robert could kill him out of spit and hatred for Rhaegar.” The critical voice of Arthur ripped through me.
I did not care that the mad king made Viserys his heir, I did not care if my son got dragons or a throne if he was alive. Though the enemies were closing in and there was no way of knowing when they were going to come here.
I felt my mind drifting as the birds I had brought with me were flying overhead. Images of Ned and his men were flashing in my mind among them was Howland Reed. A talented green seer and warg much like me if not better and his ability to control and bond with animals is by far greater than mine for now, I was still familiar with it.
“They will be here in a matter of minutes.” I said, knowing my eyes were a milky white color.
“Maester Aemon,” I called out.
I watched an old man walk into the room. I knew that this was hard for him as it was for me, but we knew that there was no one that we could trust more than Maester Aemon.
So, during the confusion as I was fleeing from the north with Arthur and Rhaegar, I asked Aemon to come with me. Right now, he was standing before me, the sweet old man's eyes failing with each passing moment but right now he was locked on the babe resting in my arms.
Aemon is bald, wrinkled, and shrunken. His blind eyes are clouded and milk white. He has a thin, fleshless neck. His unearthly beauty was no longer telling that he was Targaryen, only his name showed his birth much like my own son of grey eyes and black hair. Aemon was quick-witted as a boy and that did not change in his old age.
The maester speaks softly but his counsel is so valued and respected that many fall silent to hear it, it was one of the many reasons we picked him. Despite his age, Aemon's mind is still sharp as is his hearing. Aemon is calm and courteous even now amongst the war and the panic he is as still as a calm pond.
“Head back to the wall quickly. The letters that Rhaegar created for now keep them hidden; it would be better suited for people to think that Daemon is a bastard. As snow snows will have more freedom. When the time is right you will send out the letters to the Wardens and let them declare for house Targaryen or be ready for the fire and blood. You to send the letters the ones that Rhaegar prepare let the world know that Daemon was born a true born son of the Starks and the Targaryens even if we are killed the North will not let him die, he is one of the last of the Targaryens. Even if he does not get to be king the more people that know that he is a true born and not a child of rape. But for now, this is what we need.” I spoke quickly as Aemon nodded his head.
“Once the letters are hidden away you will pretend not to know a thing about this until the time comes.” I spoke in a rushed, concerned voice.
Arthur was stiff behind my back. Thinking that we were better to run but there was nowhere to run to Ned was one way the whole group of us would not be able to sneak off unseen. At least Aemon could sneak away unseen, Arthur shifted to look at the window he must have seen them as well. Though he would not be able to make out the sight of the people he could see the dust clouds and the hear the pounding of hooves.
“Right away my queen please take care of yourself and the young prince.” Aemon spoke with reverence before rushing.
As he rushed out of the room, I looked over to the chest looking at the sword and eggs as well as the letter that desired next steps. Taking in a deep breath I began to utter commands, “Prepare the chest to be shipped to the north even if Robert still wants to marry me. I have been soiled and I cannot keep a husband, at least not the new king of the heavens. By now the fleet is surrounding the island of dragonstone. Eventually the Queen will be taken hostage and her child locked away and sold off to the new royal family. We need to be prepared for a long-standing holding action.” I spoke in a commanding tone.
Arthur nodded his head firmly as I looked over to Whent, and the White Bull both were stalking in the room gripping the chest and get ready to build the cart, I could only look down at my son with great grief knowing that he was going to be bastard though he was a true born son. I felt a great weight of sadness resting on my shoulders as I waited for my brother’s arrival.
Ned
I was riding towards the Tower of Joy with six companions. One of the companions is Howland. I looked up at the towers to see that the ravens were swirling around the tower, their eyes milky white. The color befitting those of a warg my sister if she had this power why she did not fight back.
Confusion and doubt swirled around me. I did not know what was going on. The confusion littering my mind forced me to spiral into chaotic thoughts burning through my veins. The thought of having to drag my sister against her will made me nervous that she might have left of their own violation. Trotting forward I watched as three forms began to shimmer into the sight. The golden and red sands of Dorne shifting with the wind and baking in the sun.
Three Kingsguard are sitting at the foot of the tower, one of which is Ser Arthur Dayne, the best swordsman in the entire realm. Dayne looked ready like he knew that I was going to have to fight him, and we would lose in a fair fight. I dismounted from my horse, my heart thundering in my chest.
Howland stiffened at my side, for once he, much like me, knew that we might not get out of this battle unscathed, Arthur stabs his sword into the dirt, a fury floods his stare cold and hangs with grief as he sneers at me.
“Lord Stark.” His voice was cold and heavy.
I knew that he knew that his king was dead and that he blamed me anyone would it was the Vale and North marshaled against his precious prince. To him we are the ones that killed his prince with our enemy forces. Rhaegar took my sister Robert from me. They killed my brother and father. Rhaegar deserved death but Arthur did not, he did not do anything that is deserving of death.
“I looked for you on the Trident.” I spoke in a cool voice.
Ser Whent had a sneer on his face as I noticed the white Bull, his fingers were curling around the leather grip of his sword. There was a fierce protective energy swirling around each of them as if they were still fighting for the dead king to be that lay bleeding the rubies from his armor plate streaming down the river.
“We weren’t there.” Arthur spoke in a brisk and cold voice.
“Your friend the usurper would lie beneath the ground if we had been.” Ser Whent spoke as he sharpened his sword.
“The Mad King is dead. Rhaegar lies beneath the ground. Why weren’t you there to protect your prince?” I questioned.
I could see the pain that was glimmering in his eyes as he thought about his dead friend, his bright violet eyes were darker than the black sky at night, his fingers were gripping just a bit tighter to the might blade Dawn.
“Our prince wanted us here.” Arthur spoke in a murderous voice.
Hate filled my chest as I noticed a movement in the tower, men and women were making their way out of the tower there were goods resting in their grips, I could see the carriages making sure that they were ready for a long journey. They were not going to take my sister. I would not let them.
“Where is my sister? Where are you taking her?” My voice was booming and cool as I leered at the man before me.
Arthur, Whent, and Gerold were gripping tightly to their blades as their feet dug into the golden sands of Dorne. The Kingsguard drew their blades. There was a tension rippling over us. The air was thick. Spit dribbled down my dry cracked throat struggling to clear my mind, my hands threatened to shake. There was no way that we would be some of the best swordsmen in the world.
“And now it begins.” Arthur spoke in a smug voice
“No. Now it ends.” I spoke softly.
Arthur cut down Howland in the blink of an eye. I could hear the wet gurgles, so I knew that he was still alive. Arthur was on me in a single moment, dawn gripped tightly as he brought the sword down with all his might but stopped with a commanding voice.
In a flash Arthur was looming over me, blade in hand, pointed at my tender skin. I could feel the stare steel threatening to rip apart my throat, the smoky blade shining as I heard a thunderous shake. I looked up to see that the door to the tower had opened and a woman with a babe walked out. The thunderous voice shook my very foundation.
“Stop Ser Arthur, take Howland and Ned alive despite what they have done, they are my fellow north men.” Lyanna’s husky voice filled the air.
All eyes turned to look at her, her smoke gray eyes filled with fury as Whent put a knife to Holden's throat while Arthur slammed my arms behind my back. As I was forced to watch my sister descend the steps the most startling thing had to be the black-haired boy with deep gray eyes.
“Lady Lyanna, you had that monster child” Howland started in doubt.
The pinning stare my sister gave me said all that it needed to know they did not steal Lyanna away she went with them willingly.
“My Rhaegar was kind and strong, he was no monster, be careful or I will have it plucked from your head. Now shall we go back to the North” Her deserved voice reached out over the sands. I wonder how things were going during the rest of the war.