Prologue

Rhaella Targaryen hated fire.

Somewhere in an unmarked grave in Old Valyria, her ancestors would likely be rolling over in their graves if they heard her say that. She was a dragon after all, dragons did not fear the heat or the flame. They did not fear being burned. She would have shamed her ancient family and her bloodline if those words had been spoken aloud.

But she also didn't care. Those people were dead and buried beneath the weight of their oppressive failure to turn Old Valyria into something that it wasn't. They had been burned by their ambition, pride and greed to the point where no one knew their names anymore and they were simply scribblings in a history book.

Her own family history had been dominated by the failures of her ancestors' foresight or lack thereof. The heat and flame of the past had burned away their memories as surely as the fire had burned away their bodies.

It's disturbingly ironic in a way, fire is a part of their family words, part of the true essence of a Targaryen and it is through fire that many of them have met their end throughout history.

Just as many of them are no doubt meeting their end now.

And now the reason for her hatred of flame made terrible sense, the reasons were just things that she never chose to acknowledge because of how distinctly un-Targaryen that they made her. But knowing them now, Rhaella felt a sense of relief that the fire will not claim her as it did them. Her husband's obsession with flame had nearly been the end of the family bloodline just as it almost had for others before him.

But not her….never her.

And certainly not for her children.

She glanced down at the two small bundles wrapped in her arms, both of them deeply asleep. They were both swaddled in a wrap of black and red cloth, a reminder of who they were as prince and princess.

Twins….she never would have believed it if the kicks had not been so distinctly different. Rhaella had known for a while that she was carrying two babies but thankfully it was a truth she was able to keep hidden from the maesters. She was also just doubly glad that there was an increased chance that one or both of them would be boys.

That Targaryens needed strong boys. Gods above and below, they needed as many heirs as possible if they were going to stave off complete extinction.

If her husband were here, he would likely be very pleased, saying that he was looking at the next king and queen of Westeros.

If she were lucky, she might get a smile out of him, perhaps even some words of affirmation.

It galled Rhaella to admit that she still sought Aerys approval even when she had begged her father not to have her marry him.

It was just her luck, she mused, that that same man had perished in Summerhall's flames.

The queen cocked her head towards the half open door of the tent, catching just a glimpse of the whisps of smoke that were still blowing all across the clearing. She could feel the heat of the flames even from this distance and grimaced slightly, turning her back towards where she knew they would be. Even though she couldn't see the inferno, it is still something that will affect her for the rest of her life.

It is the day that the Targaryens died and that Targaryens rose.

It's eerily prophetic that on the day so many of her family died, two new lives would be brought into their royal world.

But only one would get to experience the full effects of that life.

Rhaella glanced slowly back and forth between her son and daughter, imagining the sort of life they would have if she were to emerge from this tent with the news that she had borne twins.

Many would no doubt rejoice, praising her for her strength in bringing an heir and a princess into the world. They would be taken back to King's Landing with much fanfare and though the day would be ruled by tragedy, it would also be remembered with happiness as well.

At least to some.

But at the moment, Rhaella found that she couldn't move. No one outside this tent knew what had transpired within and she intended to keep it that way for a long time to come.

After much thought and deliberation, the queen had decided, even before the children were born that she would use the unknowns of their birth to her advantage. She didn't have much control in her life, but as a mother, she would have control over this.

It was the strength that she feared she lacked.

Because to accomplish what she wanted to do, what she intended to, was something akin to ripping her own heart out.

But she knew she needed to do it.

This was far too important to maintain some sort of status quo.

The status quo was what had rendered so many of them dead, herself nearly among them. The status quo had pruned the branches of her family tree, piercing the blood and marrow of the Targaryens, rendering them weak and vulnerable.

Her children would not be victims of the status quo.

Her son would be a great king, of that she was certain and Rhaella knew she would see to his rise with her last breath.

But her daughter would not be a queen.

She would not be like Rhaella, trapped with no way out and no other way to exercise control other than by sheer desperation. She would not be bound by tradition and insanity for though her brother might be a different man, he would be just as controlled as she would have been.

One of them would be spared that fate.

The other….she would just need to be a constant presence in their life. The heir would have to stay, the daughter would have to go.

Her daughter would be strong…and the only way to accomplish that would be to get her far, far away from here.

She glanced down at the tiny pale face that, unlike her brother, was awake and looking up at her with large violet eyes.

So beautiful…and yet so fragile.

"Sweetling," she whispered. "Love of my life. I will just have to be strong enough for the both of us. You are just a hatchling, but for now, I will be the dragon and I will do what I must."

She turned to the wide eyed maid who had just finished throwing clothes into a bag along with a few other odds and ends and had come to stand before her, eyes wide eyed and hands trembling slightly.

"Listen carefully Emris," the queen said softly to the woman, though her eyes were still fixed on her children. "Get on a horse and do not stop until you have reached the Vale. My contact will be there waiting for you. There will be a keep where you will lay low and here is a letter for you to give to the man who I have decided will help us. Jon Arryn is an honorable man, but he can also keep his secrets. Do you I have your word that you will keep yours?"

"Yes your grace," the maid said, nodding so hard, her head might have fallen from her shoulders.

"Good," Rhaella said softly. And then with a constancy whose origin was wholly unfamiliar to her, she slowly reached out and handed the girl to the maid. "Be strong, do not fear."

Though she was unsure if those words were intended for her daughter or for the maid, her daughter whose wide violet eyes were still locked on hers, as if she knew what her mother was doing…as if she accepted it.

Somehow that thought made giving her up just a tiny bit easier.

"Ser Duncan," the queen called softly, knowing that the knight stationed outside of the tent would hear her.

The words had no sooner passed her lips when the tall man entered the tent, his gaze steady, even as he perceived the child in the maid's arms. "Yes your grace?"

Rhaella held out the letter she had penned herself and kept on her person for the last few weeks, waiting until she could be rid of it. "Take this and my daughter. Do not stop until you reach the Vale. There are instructions on it about how to make contact with Jon Arryn. He will help you. Only do not look back and do not under any circumstances return. Do you understand?"

It was a credit to the man's long service of her family that he didn't react. He merely nodded and took the letter before folding it into the satchel at his side.

"Good man," the queen said softly. "Now go. Make sure no one sees you."

The man of the Kingsguard when to the doorway of the tent, eyes darting back and forth beneath his helm to make sure that the way was clear.

Rhaella was oddly grateful that it was coming on to dusk and their flight would be cloaked in darkness.

The final step that marked the escape of her daughter was commemorated with a single word from the tall man. "Now."

And then they were gone, vanishing into the night like phantoms, leaving Rhaella to hold her new son in her arms. They felt painfully empty now.

Leaning down so that she might breathe in the fresh scent of new life, Rhaella allowed her tears to fall on her son's perfect cheeks.

"You will meet again Rhaegar," she whispered, barely moving her lips. "Once it is safe, once we are no longer marked by tradition and constriction….you will meet your sister again. But for now, even though you do not know it, I wish to say her name. It is the first and last time, you will hear it uttered from me."

And then, she brought her lips to his cheek, the movement barely a caress on his new skin, and into her breath, she released the name she had loved from the moment she found it in the history books.

"Laena…"

And even though she was now far away from her mother, far enough for the wind to have completely stolen away the word, even the phonetic sounds, the tiny girl still heard it.

She heard her name even though it was not one that she knew.

And Luna Lovegood opened her eyes.

Ω

*Scratches head while laughing* Sooooo...you know that rewrite that I mentioned that I didn't know when it would happen? Surprise! I just sat down and wrote like a hurricane this evening and this is what I managed to pound out. I know its short but its not uncommon for prologues to be brief. So, Ser Duncan and a maid are taking Laena/Luna away from the Targaryens to be raised in the Vale. At the burning of Summerhall, John Arryn would still have been a young man so its not completely out of the realm of possibility for him to be in the know. Also, I don't know when he would have become Lord Arryn but for the sake of this story, we're going to assume he has that title already. Laena will be raised in a keep well away from Eyrie, but it is not out of the realm of possibility that she will meet Ned during his fostering in the Vale...wink wink. Alright, so that's it for now, let me know what you think of the rewrite and I'll see you all next time!