Chapter Text
Rhea Royce of Houses Stark and Royce stands on the wall of Winterfell. She breathes in the cold northern air and she feels at peace. She spent the morning playing with her grandchildren and then rode through the wolf wood with Eli and her good brother Bennard. And now as the sun begins its journey below the horizon she thinks this may not be the life she wanted all those years ago but it is a life she has grown into.
Rickon was a good man. A man who accepted every part of her. A man who held her as she cried herself hoarse their wedding night over another man. A dragon who did not fight for her. A dragon who in the end was just as much of a coward as all Targaryens were. Rhea has birthed three children and now has three grandchildren. She has helped rule and guide the North. Her four children make her proud. Her grandchildren make her smile. And as she lays her head down upon her pillow she smiles and ignores the feelings in her gut. The feeling of stagnation, restlessness, sorrow, and yearning. She pushes these unwelcome intruders deep, deep down into her mind.
That night she dreams. She dreams of a dragon of gold, of a boy with white hair and haunted eyes, of Daemon (older and different than the boy she once knew) looking at her with a fierce love in his eyes, a child kicking in her belly, and runes glowing in the dark. She wakes gasping, covered in sweat, and the Runes tattooed into her skin almost seem to itch and burn. She is off balance throughout the entire day. Everyone gives her concerned looks but Rhea ignores them all. She keeps to herself and takes all of her meals in her room.
That night she dreams again. The same dreams as the night before. All are twice as vivid and bright. She feels the child kicking in her belly and reaches out her hand towards Daemon. His hand reaches for her own. And then she wakes up. But she is not in her room. She opens her eyes and she is in the godswood standing before the weirwood. The carved face in its trunk stares at her with its haunting facade. Its eyes have begin to bleed. The Runes begin to burn and Rhea screams, falls to her knees, and looks at the glowing symbols in her skin. And then she hears the voice. A voice that seems as though a hundred men all speak at once all the while echoing.
RHEA OF HOUSE ROYCE. KINGS BLOOD HAS BEEN SPILT IN YOUR NAME. THE ELDEST SON COMES NORTH. THE RED ONE WILL SOON FOLLOW. PREPARE. PREPARE.
All the souls of House Stark in Winterfell awaken hearing these words. The sun rises against a sky of night and clashing blood red. A raven arrives from Elena Florent announcing their return North with a ward of the Blood.
(Aegon knows that Harwin is the father of his nephews. He knows that this is treason. But he sees the love in the eyes of the one called Breakbones when he looks at Jace, Luke, and his elder sister. Aegon knows his mother would want to know this. But then he remembers Harwin helping him with his sword, telling him stories of Harrenhal, and the way he wants nothing from Aegon. He gives and asks for nothing in return. And that alone grants Harwin a loyalty no one else in the world has except Sunfyre. (And that loyalty will carry far into the future. When Aegon Targaryen holds his first born son in his arms he names him Harwin.)).