Summary:

Rhaella Targaryen lost her crown, her home, her husband, her firstborn, and her grandchildren in a matter of months. The day her daughter was born, amidst a raging storm, she had nearly lost hope... Yet she found hope in the eyes of her young son and newborn daughter.

A fallen queen may not have any freedom, but she still has a will and the strength to use that will to her own ends. The dragons may have been defeated, but they would not forget.

Written for the ASOIAF Big Bang 2015.

Notes:

This story is told from five distinct POVs, all Targaryen. Each chapter is its own POV and they all cover differing amounts of time. The beginning date is at the start of each chapter.

This story was written as part of a challenge, running from May to December which led to the story being far shorter than I am accustomed to writing. The challenge includes art made by another person which I will post a link to as soon as I know it is done!

One chapter still needs to be written and should be done by February if it cooperates, at which point the epilogue, timeline, and family trees of the Great Houses will be posted. I also will post short sections of the story that couldn't fit into the flow of the chapters at a later point.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Rhaella: The Fallen Queen

SECOND MONTH, 284 AC

The wind was howling as it buffeted the stronghold. It whistled and moaned through the cracks of Dragonstone. The waves of the sea broke the masts of ships which were anchored in the port and sinking many which were near the island. The swells occasionally splashed against the lower windows of the fortress. Inside, Rhaella Targaryen's screams echoed through the halls.

Viserys...

She knew that he must be terrified. Her boy, her last remaining son. She prayed the gods would keep him safe. She prayed that they would protect the babe who was being born into the world. How long her labor lasted, she could not say. Hours passed as her body contracted and her child began to make its way into the world.

Mara held her hand for hours, coaxing her, encouraging her. Rhaella did not think she could have made it long without Mara. The girl was just a servant, and yet she was now her strength.

"How is Viserys?" She asked between contractions.

"He is well my lady," Tissina, another servant, said. "He is with Alessia. She is trying to calm him." She glanced at the windows which were shaking from the wind.

Rhaella released a heavy, ragged breath. "Good."

Maester Loreth returned to the room with a bundle of clothes and a satchel filled with his medicines. He gazed at her with sympathy as she contracted and screamed again. She knew that the child would come soon. Part of her wished that she and the babe would die. She wished that their sufferings would end. Then she thought upon Viserys and knew that she must live. She must live for her son. She must live until the blood of her son and his children was avenged.

An hour later she cried out in relief as the child left her body and entered the world. A world which held no hope for a Targaryen.

"A girl, your grace," the Maester told her. The girl's cry was strong.

Storm-born...

Tissina took the girl from the Maester while he helped Rhaella through her delivery of the after-birth. Eventually, she laid the newborn girl in the arms of her mother.

Rhaella wept as she looked upon her beautiful little girl. "Daenerys," she whispered, her voice hoarse from her screams. "She will bring peace as her namesake did so long ago." She kissed Daenerys on the soft white hair atop her head. "Please, bring Viserys in to meet his sister."

Tissina complied readily to fetch the Prince, while Maester Loreth and Mara made the room more presentable. She felt so weak, so exhausted. She placed her daughter to her breast and helped the newborn feel where she needed to latch on. Rhaella's eyes had closed and she had drifted asleep by the time Viserys and Alessia arrived.

"Your Grace," Mara said, gently rocking Rhaella's arm.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw her eight year old son looking up at her. His lilac eyes were big and tear-stained. "Come here my little dragon," she whispered. Quite swiftly he climbed into the bed and cuddled close to her.

"Why do babies hurt you?"

She smiled sadly. "They only hurt to come out sweetling, but I am well now. I am just tired. It is quite exhausting to birth a child."

He was staring at his sister as she slept upon their mother's breast. "Was I so tiny?"

She had to laugh at that. Viserys had been smaller than Daenerys, to the best of her recollections. "We all start out this small, even you, even me. This is your sister, Daenerys."

"Daenerys." He gently touched her cheek. "Will she be my queen, mother?"

Rhaella shuddered at the thought. Never again... she would not have her children wed... never again... "Perhaps sweetling." Thunder cracked outside the walls of the castle. Her son burrowed closer against her. She ran a comforting hand through his tangled hair. "Hush my love, we are safe. I must sleep now, but you may stay beside me as I rest."

The storm had destroyed the remnants of the Targaryen fleet. Of the ships that survived the storm, many fled Dragonstone within the month, filled with deserters. Worse still, word had arrived that a fleet was on its way from Storm's End.

"What news do you bring, Ser Willem?" Rhaella asked the knight shortly after he entered her room.

She was still bed-ridden after her daughter's birth. She had been feverish for weeks. Though the fever had abated, she was still very weak.

"Your grace," he replied with a bow. "I have heard some of the men talking about betraying you to the Baratheons when their fleet arrives."

Rhaella closed her eyes. Would these terrors never cease? "Are any loyal?"

"Some," he said with a weak smile. "Myself included, your grace. We can still take a ship from here, flee to Essos."

"Essos," she whispered. "Would that I could Ser Willem. However, Maester Loreth insists that I am not well enough to leave my bed as of yet, let alone to travel. I fear that I would not survive a journey across the Narrow Sea."

"We cannot abandon all hope my queen."

"No, my good knight, we cannot. This is my command to you: take my son and all whom you know to be truly loyal to my House. Flee to Essos. Raise him. Protect him."

He was flustered by her response, his mouth gaped like a fish as he tried to find words. "What of yourself, your grace? What of your daughter?"

"I cannot leave and I will not be parted from my daughter."

"They murdered Princess Elia, Princess Rhaenys, Prince Aegon!" His passion for her family was inspiring and agitating.

She glared at him. Her words poured forth with fire. "Do you think that I have forgotten them! Would that I could flee with you, but I cannot. Go east, across the Narrow Sea. Take all of the jewels and gold you can. Pray that I may find mercy for myself and my daughter."

He knelt before her. "I shall do as you command, my queen. Viserys will be kept safe and raised well." He hesitated. "Will you surrender?"

"Yes," she whispered. May the gods grant mercy. "They will find no fight in me."

Mara held her hand when Stannis Baratheon entered her chamber. Mara and Maester Loreth had remained with her while Alessia and Tissina had fled with Ser Willem Darry and many other retainers as protection for Viserys. There had been no fight, no deaths, when Lord Stannis took Dragonstone. Now her cousin's son stood before her while she cradled her young daughter.

"Stannis," Rhaella greeted coolly. "I half-expected your elder brother to come here that he might remove my head and that of my daughter."

He did not react to her words, remaining stubbornly grim. He seemed gaunt, as though he had not eaten in many long days. "Where is your son?"

She forced herself to maintain a neutral expression. "Gone. They took him from me one night and abandoned myself and my daughter. Her birth has left me too weak to leave my chambers and a girl was too useless for them to take it would seem. Or they believe that she will soon die as so many of my children have done."

His jaw clenched. "Do you submit to King Robert Baratheon?"

King? By what right is Robert Baratheon a king? Fire and blood... I would burn all of you alive if I could.

"I do not seem to be in a position to do otherwise, dear cousin."

He flinched. Her gentle words had cut him deeply. "I will see that you are protected, my lady. It would not be right to kill a woman and her child."

"Did your brother think of that when he murdered Elia and her children?"

"That was Tywin Lannister," he hissed.

"And my son Rhaegar? Or my son Viserys whom you would have killed?"

For a moment he softened. "I swear to you, upon my life, that I will allow no harm to come to you or to your daughter."

Robert Baratheon had been furious at the news that the former Queen and her newborn daughter were held in his younger brother's custody. He had wanted all of the dragon-spawn to be destroyed. He had been enraged that Viserys Targaryen had not been with his mother. Lord Arryn had calmed him. Lord Arryn had told him that to ensure the Targaryens could not arise against the Iron Throne they must wed the former Queen to a loyal subject.

Robert had hated Lord Arryn's suggested spouse for the former Queen. He did not trust the man. He was too ambitious, too cold, too calculating. He was Robert's father by marriage.

Tywin Lannister accepted the proposal.

Rhaella Targaryen was not given a choice in the matter.

Rhaella arrived at the Red Keep ten months after Daenerys was born. She was brought to the Keep in a covered palanquin. Though she was recovered from her daughter's birth, she did not have the strength to fight or escape. Where could she run? Where would she hide? Even if escape were possible, they had kept her daughter. Daenerys was being kept on Dragonstone as surety that Rhaella would incite no violence against the new King.

She kept her head held high as she was escorted to the rooms which would be her prison until she was wed and shipped to Casterly Rock. She noticed familiar servants who scurried around the castle. She saw the way they would bow to her, ever so slightly before hurrying away with their heads bowed low.

She was still their Queen...

She did not cry when she entered the rooms. She doubted that anyone would know whose rooms they had once been. Anyone except perhaps Tywin Lannister, if his memories did truly extend so far into their youth.

"Mother," she whispered when she was alone inside her prison. She touched the wardrobes, tapestries, and mirrors which had not changed from the time when the room had been her mother's. So long ago, when Rhaella had only been a little girl, she had often come to this room to seek out her mother. She wished for her now. Her mother who had died so very long ago.

She sank onto the bed and prayed that the gods would protect her last living children.

"Lord Tywin," she murmured in greeting when they met shortly before their wedding. She dipped into a polite curtsey and looked at him, wondering how he would respond. She found a strange fasciation in watching people not know how to refer to her.

"Lady Rhaella," he replied, cool and crisp. She should not have expected him to be bothered by her new position. Yet he did seem at a loss for what to say to her.

"You seem well my lord, rebellion becomes you." He raised a brow but did not take the bait. "You must be proud of your daughter's new position. I have yet to see her, but I am certain that she is a lovely Queen. I am certain Joanna would be proud of her children."

He flinched and she allowed herself a small smile at his expense. "I am inclined to agree most days."

"Yet they name your son Kingslayer, and your daughter usurper. I do wonder that you did not place the crown upon your own head. Aerys may have been a madman but he was not so wrong about your ambitions. Your son took the King's life. Your daughter took my throne. Now you take me for your bride. They call Robert Baratheon the King and Jon Arryn his Hand, yet it is you who holds the power."

His lip curled, a faint smile which she only recognized by having known the man since they were children.

"I have acquiesced to this arrangement, my lord. I shall be your wife and Lady of Casterly Rock. I shall protect the honor of House Lannister and I shall be a mother to your children with Lady Joanna. Perhaps I might even be a mother to a child whom we shall share. I ask only for one thing, my lord."

Was it her imagination or did he truly seem impressed by her words? "What is it that you wish?"

Saying what came next with calm instead of fire took more restraint than she thought possible of herself. "The head of Gregor Clegane. I do believe that would be a fair present for wedding and bedding me."

He hesitated. She knew that he did not want his monster to die.

She pressed again, enunciating each word precisely and with fervor. "He murdered Elia Martell. He murdered my grandson and granddaughter. The Dornish have not yet been appeased and neither have I. A gift, my lord, in the name of peace."

His response betrayed no emotion. "I shall consider the request."

She inclined her head respectfully, doubting his sincerity. "I would like to speak with Ser Jaime and Queen Cersei." Queen Cersei... The words tasted strange upon her lips.

"I shall see if that can be arranged."

A soft laugh escaped from her lips. "They have nothing to fear. A knife is held at my daughter's throat should I choose to act against the throne."

"Indeed."

They spoke little more before he left. Ser Jaime and his sister arrived together an hour later, three hours before the wedding. Two halves of a whole, Joanna had always said. So similar in face, beautiful compliments to one another. They reminded her of Joanna far more than they did of Tywin.

She saw in their faces the same anxieties that she had noticed in many other faces. Yet while Jaime's visage held an amount of fear and respect, she sensed an air of entitled pride from Cersei.

"Your grace," Jaime murmured politely, earning him a venomous glare from his twin.

Rhaella smiled. "I am afraid that courtesy now belongs to your sister, Ser Jaime. You may call me Lady Rhaella now."

He was taken aback and lowered his eyes. "Of course, my lady."

"It is a pleasure to see you again, your grace," she told Cersei with a curtsey. "I have not seen you since you were a girl. You resemble your mother very much."

The girl flushed. "Thank you."

"It seems that I am to become your father's wife. I wish to be a good mother to both of you if I may. Though I will be at Casterly Rock, I would have you write me with any concerns. Especially when you have children, your grace. I know how terrifying it is to birth a child when you do not have a mother beside you." Rhaella's offer was genuine. She recalled that she had wanted nothing more than her mother when her first child was born... but her mother had been in King's Landing that tragic day.

Cersei's smile faltered. Did she wonder if the words were spoken truly? "I would be happy to have your support, my lady."

"Have you adjusted well to your new position?"

She forced a smile. How much anger shown in her emerald eyes... "It is going well."

Rhaella allowed herself a small smile at the girl's expense. Cersei was not yet a good liar, but King's Landing would likely turn her into one over time.

"I shall need to prepare myself for the wedding soon. Your Grace, I wonder if I may speak with your brother, alone."

The twins shot one another wary glances. Rhaella was well aware of how uncomfortable they were with her presence. She was well aware that Ser Jaime had slain her husband. He could not have been ignorant of her knowledge either.

"Of course," Cersei replied haltingly. "I am certain that you must have much to speak upon."

"You have my thanks, your grace," Rhaella responded politely, giving the young Queen another curtsey.

Cersei gave her twin one last look before she fled the room. He knelt to the ground as soon as they were alone. "Forgive me your grace." He was on his hands and knees, not daring to look up.

She took a few steps toward him and laid a gentle hand upon his head. She needed this moment. She needed to know. "Could you have saved Rhaenys or Aegon?"

He trembled beneath her fingers. "No," he choked out. "No, your grace. I didn't know... I didn't think that..."

"That your father's men would brutally murder my grandchildren, babes whom you held and guarded? Is not your father the one for whom the Rains of Castamere weep?"

"I was with the king," he whispered. "I..."

"You slit my husband's throat. Why? Why at that moment and never before?" Her voice strained to keep her emotions in check. She needed to know.

He looked up at her, tears still falling from his eyes. "He was going to burn the city to the ground. There are caches of wildfire throughout the city. I... I couldn't let him."

She closed her eyes, knowing that the boy did not lie. Aerys had been fond of wildfire, and had been consulting with pyromancers more and more as his madness increased. "Then what you did was just." She whispered the words, accepting the doom of her family at last.

"Your grace?"

"Aerys was a madman. You and I know that better than any other people who live. I forgive you for his death, Ser Jaime. Would that the gods had taken him from us sooner." If they had, then Rhaegar and his children might live. Viserys would not be in exile... if only... "I bear you no ill will. You were just a boy, sworn to protect a madman."

He stumbled over his reply. "I... I wanted to protect you. When he... the night before you left for Dragonstone..."

She smiled sadly at him and cupped his cheek. How old was he? Ten and seven at most, a boy still. "You are a good boy. Learn to forgive yourself for the things which you can not change."

It was a strange sensation to be wrapped in a lion's cloak. Gold replaced black. Lions replaced dragons. 'Fire and Blood' replaced by 'Hear Me Roar'... Yet dragons roar louder and more fearsome, and Rhaella would always be a dragon.

Tywin Lannister's kiss was surprisingly gentle. She did wonder if he felt some measure of guilt in making her his bride. Or was it only a sense of victory and pride?

In bedding too he was gentle. She had never known touches so soft or tender. He seemed to worship her body, though it was marked with a thousand scars. Scars from her many pregnancies and scars which Aerys had given her. He even seemed concerned when he saw how dark and thick many of the scars upon her legs and back were. "Aerys," was her only reply to his questioning gaze.

He coaxed sounds of pleasure from her lips. Noises which she had never known herself to utter. Sounds which filled her with guilt and shame. This man had been responsible for the death of her grandchildren. Yet she lay in bed with him and submitted to becoming his bride. She found pleasure at his touches and kisses.

She could do anything so long as Daenerys was safe.

They tarried in King's Landing several months. Lord Stannis sent word frequently that Daenerys was safe and cared for with great attentiveness. Mara and Maester Loreth had remained as caretakers for Daenerys. Rhaella trusted her daughter in their care.

Cersei and Jaime both spoke with her during her time in King's Landing. Their conversations were often stilted and uncomfortable, but still they spoke. Robert Baratheon never saw her, never spoke to her. The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, often apologized for the new King. She wondered if he was apologizing for everything which had transpired against her as well.

Her belly began to swell again shortly before their departure for Casterly Rock. She could see the triumph in Tywin's eyes as he watched her grow round with his child.

The head of Ser Gregor Clegane was laid at her feet the day she arrived at Casterly Rock as its new Lady . A gift from the Lord of the Rock to his new bride.

Lordaeron Lannister was born on a crisp, clear day in early autumn near the end of the year. He was a perfectly formed and healthy babe. His eyes were violet-green, his hair white. When Rhaella recovered from his birth, Lord Tywin began to treat her differently.

She was no longer a prisoner. She was now the Lady of Casterly Rock. He gave her charge over the household and over the children, including his young son Tyrion.

She liked the boy. He was intelligent, attention hungry, and gentle. He may have been a malformed dwarf, but she could mold him, shape him into her ally. So she became a mother to the boy no one wanted, and he responded immediately to her attentions.

Near the middle of the year, 286 AC, she won Tyrion over completely by hiding the peasant girl he had bedded and attempted to wed. Jaime had come to her about the issue, concerned at how Lord Tywin would react to news that Tyrion had seemingly eloped with a peasant. Upon talking to all parties involved, she learned that the wedding the septon had performed had not been a real marriage. The girl, Tysha, adored Tyrion. Tyrion in return adored Tysha.

It was tempting to affirm the marriage and in doing so remove Tyrion from the line of Casterly Rock, allowing her son to inherit the Rock and the West. Instead, she sheltered the girl within the household of the Rock. Tyrion and Tysha could not wed, but she would allow their trysts to continue. After all, young loves die in time. Rhaella knew that Tyrion would eventually tire of the lowborn girl. She also knew that Tyrion would be forever loyal to her from that day forth.

With incident smoothed over, her lord husband was none the wiser.

She waited until her son was nearly a year old to demand her daughter's return.

"I want my daughter back," she told her lord husband when they shared a midday meal.

He looked at her, impassive. "Your daughter is a ward of Stannis Baratheon."

"My daughter is a prisoner, held to ensure my loyalty. I have given you a son, my lord, surely that is a sign of my loyalty."

"The king still views you and your daughter as threats against his throne."

She laughed, rueful. "I have given you a son," she repeated, emphasizing the word son. "A son who will one day learn that his eldest brother was killed by the King. A son who will one day learn that his uncle was slain by his half-brother. If your king has anything to fear it will be from yourson, not my daughter. Luckily for you, your daughter is the Queen. She has a young prince who could be betrothed to my daughter."

She saw his lip curl ever so slightly. She realized faintly that it was a smile, a smile she had only seen when he looked at their son. He sipped his wine. "Joanna always said that you were cunning."

"She said much the same of you my lord. So did Aerys, quite frequently. I do not doubt that you saw the benefits to wedding me when the match was proposed and I do not doubt that Robert Baratheon saw the downside, yet what could he do? If he had ordered my execution I doubt that he could have maintained the support of Lords Stark and Arryn. The realm would have fallen into chaos again."

She stirred her tea, allowing time for him consider all of her words. "Instead he chose the lions. He will grow to rue that decision I am certain, but he cannot claim that I am a threat if I am wed to the father of his Queen and my daughter is betrothed to his son. It would be a start to mending the realm."

He raised a brow. "A start?"

"Dorne rests uneasily. Highgarden supported my family until the end, no doubt they still feel the wounds of defeat. The Greyjoys will bide their time as well to see where the Baratheon regency is weak."

"And your son Viserys is still alive somewhere in this world."

He was accusing, but she had no knowledge of her son since they had parted on Dragonstone. "Whether he lives or not I have no way of knowing. I pray that he does live, for he is my son. I want him to live a long, happy life. The crown is not for him. He would have no support. All I want is to raise my daughter here, in peace."

"I shall think upon writing to his grace, my lady."

"That is all I can ask of you, my lord."