This fanfiction is based on the story 'Robert's rebellion: writ in blood' by

To be clear, this is not a continuation or a follow up story. It is fanfiction-fiction, and I pray every day that the author continues their masterpiece.

Chapter 2: Targaryen Queens

(Lyanna Targeryan)

When next she stirred she found herself still laying in bed with a warmth in her arms, dry tear streams down her cheeks, and a uncomfortable lightness to her body.

She stilled herself to see if she could hear anyone else in the room. Finally she opened her one eye angrily, only to meet the very grim faces of Rheagar's kingsguards, with the white bull, Ser Gerold Hightower in front. And suddenly she felt silly at having tried to deceive them.

"It is a boy," the Lord Commander of the king's guards said firmly, with a sort of dread filled distaste that caused a flare of anger to shoot through her once more. "You should wait to name him until King Rhaegar sends for you". King Rheagar?

She freeze and felt her exhausted eyes go momentarily wide. Rheagar was king? What had happened?

"Is… has the mad King passed then?" she breathed in shock.

But silence was all that met her query. Behind Ser Gerold stood the other two kingsguard at the tower, Ser Aurther Dayne and Ser Oswell Whent. Both looking uncomfortable, which made her grit her teeth.

"What of the rebellion?" she asked in a stiff way, and she had to blink away the tears in her eyes as she tried to find any trace of friendship in their gazes.

Dread and pity was all that met her eyes, and suddenly she felt very alone, before the child in her arms moved and a hot warmth filled her, even as tears began to stream down her face.

Her father Lord Rickard, and her brother Brandon, and all the rest of her family. She had ruined everything for everyone. Rheagar had ruined everything with his lies - and all the false promises he had made when he married her.

"We have sent word to King Rheagar of this development, and we shall wait and hear what he says on the matter.'' It was Ser Oswell who spoke this time, gesturing at the babe, and she could tell that he was trying to be kind, but fatigue and impotent anger was all she managed to feel at his words.

Her brother, Ned, when trying to make marriage to Robert seem better had once repeated Robert's words for her, in a letter, 'fury is the Warrior's way of demanding a man to seek vengeance'.

She could hear those words queerly echo in her mind now; vengeance, fury, revenge. All the things that had apparently caused them to march to war.

Lyanna looked down at the child in her arms as he awoke. A mist of black hair with light purple eyes, filled with Rhaegar's promises. A red and gold cloth wrapped around him.

Her son.

She felt a wave of pain from her abdomen and a breeze of turbulent nausea pass through her before she looked up with a weakness and fierceness she had not summoned for many days and said - with what seemed to herself to be an otherworldly conviction - "No. I'm going to name him." And she saw Arthur's eyes widen, even as she stumbled her words momentarily, cursing herself and forcing the rest out. "Prince Revan Targaryen. The greatest man there ever will be!"

(Rhaella Targaryen) - This Section was Partly Adapted from RR: Writ in Blood

As she entered her chambers, a flash of gray and silver bounded towards her and threw itself into her chest. Rhealla gave a gasp of pain as Viserys wrapped his arms around her. His nurse scolding him as she hurried after.

"Mother!" he said, burrowing his face into her bosom. "I missed you, mother. Rhaegar is here, did you know? He came to see me. They say he is king now. Is father dead?"

"No, my sweet," she said, hesitantly, brushing his silver hair from his face. "Come here. Would you like to meet your sister?"

Viserys' eyes went wide and he nodded his head enthusiastically as she began to weakly guide him over to the cradle where her daughter slept.

Glancing behind, she saw Viserys' twin brother, Cassius, dressed in elegant black and silver, standing irreverently by the doorway. His blank eyes, which always seemed to see too much, were flickering between her and the cribb. He looked so much like Rhaegar had at that age, if they were the same age they would have passed for twins. In demeanor, though, they were distinctly separate.

"What are you calling her?" she heard Viserys half-wisper innocently while peering at the girl resting peacefully in her wooden bed, swathed in deep crimson.

After a deliberate moment she spoke, "She shall be named… Daenerys." It was a better name than her own cursed one. Unlike herself, Daenerys would have companions and friends. Equals.

It was strange, she had to admit. She remembered naming Cassius so well…. The wave of nausea passing over her, the pain from the difficult birth, and the Stranger whispering the words overtop her own as she spoke his name to the world. He had been third in line for the throne. Aerys had been the one to name Viserys, his second-born.

As she looked at her three children, she could only pray that they would each be of better mind and health then herself. She had lost too many children to the cradles and birthing beds already.

(Elia Targaryen)

She heaved a gasping breath of joy and pain, as pearls of salty water streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks. Her baby boy had finally been given back to her, after so long apart. He had been dressed in fine clothing, with brown fabric interwoven by golden lace, as though to somehow hide the base color beneath.

Oberyn, who had carried the child to her, was smiling down at her, with sly eyes and a curved smile which spoke of some mischievous ill intent. "I shall have to teach him to fight when he is older. It would be a shame to have the Crown Prince not know how to kill."

Her child squirmed in her grip slightly and she could see now that his light Targaryen hair had grown longer and more curled in the four moons they had been kept apart.

Rheanys was watching from her uncle Doran's hip with wide eyes and a tight grip.

No doubt she must look rather uncomely, with how wide her smile was. But for once she didn't care. She was with her family. The only one missing- no, best not to spoil the mood. Although her earent thought had already dimmed her smile.

Doran himself looked rather stiff and forced. And he was decidedly not looking in Oberyn's direction. Which was strange.

She wondered suddenly if Oberyn had done something to make them give Aegon back to her. But this would surely not be the case. With Raegar as King they wouldn't keep her baby from her if she asked for him, right?

She felt another tear run down her smile as she kissed the top of his head for the umpteenth time. His eyes had been a light purple when he had been born, but they had darkened to purple-black within the year, and now she could hardly tell the difference between them and her own dark ones.

Before, when tending to Rhaenys, she had found great joy in carrying her around the halls of Dragonstone, singing songs that Rh-… She nuzzled her face to her child and hid herself in his loving giggle. She would never be able to walk with her little Aegon. But perhaps she could convince someone to carry him along for her. Ser Arthur had always been kind and patient about such things with her... but he wasn't here now.

Suddenly there was a hesitant knock on the door, and a Dornish face poked his head in.

"A letter for you, prince Doran," the speaker looked very nervous, and Oberyn looked unhappy, until the man spoke nervously again, "from your wife."