Summary: Prophetic dreams, fire resistance, magic, and dragon bonding were all tall tale signs of a Targaryen. Not that it mattered to her, she wasn't one of them, being an orphan who merely grew up with the tales of dragons and silver hair she had brushed it off as children's stories. That as until she came across a nest of dragon eggs. Dorne/Targaryen centric. Fem OC, pairings, somewhat decided lol
A/N: Oops another story instead of updating what I have? And this isn't even the Game of Thrones fanfic I have been writing for the past three months? What is this? Oops is all I can say. Also, I'm stuck at home for a while so have at it. (This was really self-indulgent ngl fam.)
The Targaryens were dead.
Long gone from Westeros like fairytales of old. The only ones that were left were spirited away across the sea somewhere in Essos, far out of reach of King Robert.
Although they could also be dead as sightings of the silver-haired dragons were far and few between. Either way, no Targaryens lived in Westeros anymore.
When the Baratheon king came to power, he slaughtered every Targaryen he could find, friend and foe, ally and bastard, all were killed. Even those whose features resembled the family were dead, purple eyes and silver hair were gone from the land.
But for Shaera it mattered not what became of them.
Why would it? She was a bastard, and bastard doesn't have time to worry about dead dragons or wars from years ago. For her, all that mattered was finding something to eat and a warm place to sleep, although the later wasn't as important.
She supposed, when she was younger she did enjoy the stories of the dragon kings and queens, but that was a long time ago, almost 10 name days ago. Back when she was a child at the matron's home with the other kid before the place was burned to the ground during the Greyjoy rebellion.
Along with four other kids, they were the only ones to live. One of them, a boy named Cayde went off to try his luck at becoming a squire to some rich knight down south while one of the older girls, Lenila, found her luck with a rich lord up north.
The only other one left beside herself was a mousy girl around her age named Anira, Anira Sand to be exact.
Shaera hadn't known much about her previously, she hadn't really cared about anyone else at the matron's place truth be told though. Anira wasn't like the others though, she was dark with inky hair and small suspicious eyes. She was taller than herself, lanky in size, towering over many of the other kids even though she had only been 10 namedays. And she was quite quiet. A mouse as many referred to her as but she wasn't scared like one though.
When the fire had started in the children's home, Anira had been quick to grab what she could and slip out disappearing into the wooden clearing as everyone else had been too shocked or scared to react. In truth, if it hadn't been for Caydee practically dragging her outside Shaera may not have survived. And she thought back to that day often, the way the fires licked at her skin and the smoke filling her lungs what would have happened if she did stay?
It was a lesson she learned that day. Never freeze at the sign of danger, always keep going no matter what.
After the fires had burned down and both Lenila and Caydee went their separate ways after they buried the what remains they could find, it was just herself and Anira who remained.
The first few days were awkward, herself unsure how to go about the Dornish girl. It took a while but by the end of the week, the two had grown relatively close. Or at least close enough for her to share what little food and coin she had managed to take before everything burned.
But once it all ran out they were left with a decision: What do they do now?
"Let us go."
Shaera gave the girl a confused look, "What do you mean? Go where?"
Anira glanced over to her, "We need to move, staying here will lead to our deaths." The older girl kicked a few branches into the dying fire before them, "There is nothing left for us. The others had the right idea of going somewhere else."
She shook her head, "But to go where? The North has nothing for bastards like us, and there is no future for us in Kings Landing where else-?"
"There's Essos," she interjected looking out into the woods, "though you may not like sea travel." There was a pause as she thought a little more before her lips curved upwards in a small smile, "Let us go to Dorne."
It took a long time to travel to Dorne.
Well considering they could only manage to go by foot or when the occasional merchant allowed them to hitch a ride, it was a long journey.
In the first month of traveling together, they had managed to see a lot of Westeros. From small towns and barn houses, they could stay for the night to a few famous places like the Trident where the Dragon Prince fell.
Though they never had a reason to stop at any of those places, just like where they came from there was nothing but the ghosts of the dead and broken swords. Well, not all the swords they found were broken, most were rusted over to the point of uselessness.
Nevertheless, Anira had managed to salvage two in moderate condition. Considering that they had both been in mud pools for years was remarkable to Shaera. When she had asked the older girl why she needed two, the Anira snickered at her, "Why not?" she asked, "We may be young but we are still girls. It's dangerous to travel without protection."
And so the next day as they left the Trident, she found an old dagger that wasn't too dull, it's only flaw was that its handle had been stripped of its rich jewels and finery, but good nonetheless.
From then on, whenever they could, Anira would show Shaera how to clean and use the small dagger. It was difficult at first, the weight of the blade was unbalanced and awkward to hold but she was able to manage it by the end of the second week, albeit shakily.
For their size and mode of transportation, walking, they were making decent time even if they did get lost ever few days. Of course, they had stopped in Kings landing for a few days, Shaera's curiosity over whether Caydee truly did manage to make it to the city and become a squire took over. Unfortunately and fortunately at the same time, neither girl could find any information on him or whether he even made it. The pair quickly left after Anira had managed to steal a bag of silver stags and a few gold dragons from an unsuspecting lord.
They continued to move, never looking back until they were well into the Stormlands and even then their pace had quicken as they grew closer to Dorne. Although that was until they stopped at Summerhall.
The relic that was Summerhall was just as it was named, in ruins. It was broken and crumbled, what remained of the stones and structure were charred black and left by the Lords of the Stormlands as a nothing more than filth. It was one of the strongholds of the Targaryens, a place of both defense and vacation for the family.
As Shaera stood in front of the old stronghold she couldn't help but wonder why it was still up. Like the descendants of the dragon family, the Baratheons destroyed many of the family's relics and possessions. From castles and houses to even the famous dragon skeletons were all said to be crushed by the king's Warhammer itself, it made her curious as to why keep such a place around. Especially as it was located in the King's own homeland.
"Did you want to take a look inside?"
Shaera jumped, startled by Anira who came up behind her, "You've been staring for a long time, thought you might've died standing up."
She laughed, "And die this close to Dorne? Don't think you can get rid of me that quickly."
"You mean easily, not quickly," Shaera pouted in response but nodded, "You know I'm not good with my words like you."
"You'll learn with time," the Dornish girl stated before grabbing her arm and tugging her into one of the broken holes of the walls of the stronghold, "Come, the longer we are here the longer the ghosts of all those dead royals could grab hold of our bodies."
"You don't really believe that stuff right?" She asked back as they wandered through the crumbling halls, "That can't happen." Even as she said it, the look on Anira's face gave her the answer.
Wandering around the place they found themselves in front of one of the Targaryen paintings. Or at the very least what was left of it. It was torn apart, the canvas yellowing with odd splotches of what looked like rot. The frame was bent inwards and jagged and looked like it would fall apart at any moment.
"Who do you think it was? The painting I mean"
"I don't know, I wasn't good at remembering names," Anira replied before beginning to walk away down back to what she assumed was the main hall, "Come there is not much left in this place. It has been pillaged by every bastard in the area."
Not wanting to be left behind shaera turned to follow, although before he did she couldn't help but reach up and touch the painting.
She wasn't sympathetic to the Targaryens. They were mad and cruel, the Mad King was evidence of that but she couldn't help but wonder. Wonder what would have happened if the Dragon prince had survived the Trident and became king, or if he had not kidnapped that Stark girl. Perhaps her life would've been different.
As her fingers brushed against the faded painting it seemed to fall apart like ash. As it disintegrated before her, Shaera noticed something behind it. It was a hole.
But it wasn't like the other holes that covered Summerhall, this one looked purposefully made as if it was built in. It was small in size, just big enough to put her arms in and reach in if there was anything there. Curiosity got the best of her though as she attempted to see if there was anything inside.
She felt something cold and smooth, her fingers grasped something oddly shaped in the hole as she tried to grab it. There was a high chance, she knew that it could be the remains of some noble and in which case she knew it would be time for them to leave.
As she pulled whatever it was out, she managed to shift her other hand inside to draw it closer. Steadying herself on her feet she gave it one last yank as it came out in her hands.
The light from the sun shone down on it, the shattered mosaic glass created rainbows that danced along the ground as Shaera took a good look at what it could be.
She let out a gasp. In her hands was a red and golden orb that was perhaps the size of a melon. Whipping the dust away, the light made it glisten creating its own glowing pattern on the floor. The edges of the orb were curved, creating a pattern of overlapping scales but it wasn't sharp in fact it was smooth. Bringing it closer to her face as she cupped it, she could've sworn she felt a warmth budding inside.
"Shaera where were you, I believe I found a servants passage down to the cellar and we should-" Anira's voice trailed off as she made eye contact with her and then at the object in her hands, "-go look at it."
The Dornish girl stepped forward hesitantly, "Is that-?" she couldn't even manage to finish her sentence. It was the first time that Shaera had ever witnessed Anira being unable to speak, her words catching in her throat.
"Yeah," she replied back quietly, "It's a dragon egg."
.
.
.
A/N: Alright that's all good and done. Age-wise Shaera was around 8 during the Greyjoy rebellion (which took place 9 years before canon) and Anira was 10 which would make her 18 by canon as well. So far we ain't nowhere near canon, as they are still 8 and 10 respectfully. Obviously Shaera is a Targaryen descendent (being of Daeron's line although that will be explained later rest assured)