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Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning:
Major Character Death
Category:
Multi
Fandoms:
A Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsHouse of the Dragon (TV)
Relationships:
Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra TargaryenAlicent Hightower/Viserys I TargaryenJon Snow/Arya Stark
Characters:
Arya StarkJon SnowDaemon TargaryenRhaenyra TargaryenViserys I TargaryenAlicent HightowerOtto HightowerAegon II TargaryenHelaena TargaryenRhaenys Targaryen VelaryonCorlys "The Sea Snake" VelaryonLaena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Laenor VelaryonBran StarkCriston ColeAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenRickon Stark (Father of Cregan)Cregan StarkHarwin StrongLarys StrongArchmaester Vaegon Targaryen
Additional Tags:
Time TravelDaenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad QueenBut she is deadactually most everyone except Arya and Jon are deadBackground bran starkDaemon Targaryen is WhippedViserys I Targaryen Being an IdiotBut He Gets BetterMaybe - FreeformWarning: Otto HightowerManipulative Alicent HightowerPolitical Rhaenyrawell she's getting thereDaemon and Arya brotpeventuallyHouse Manderly (A Song of Ice and Fire)Lady Stoneheart - FreeformMinor Character Deathminor child abuseImplied Sexual Contentbrief depictions of torture
Language:
English
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Published:2023-06-28Updated:2026-05-29Words:443,023Chapters:40/?Comments:1,071Kudos:1,982Bookmarks:1,390Hits:150,558
(Restricted) A New Dawn
SereneDreaming
Summary:
Daemon and Rhaenyra's reunion in the Godswood is interrupted by two strangers appearing out of nowhere at the base of the Heart Tree. Once they awaken, the Targaryens learn of the death of dragons, and the end of the world of men. Can the two strangers out of time steer the course of history to prevent calamity? Or is the future already set in stone?
Notes:
Hello all, this is my first original fan fic in well over a decade! A few notes:
There will be Jonerys, but only mentioned in past-tense. This story features Jon & Arya endgame. If that's not your cup of tea, no worries, feel free to not read and go about your day. More relationship, character and other tags will be added as the story progresses. Constructive criticism is welcome. Like I said, it's been a while so I'm quite rusty. Hope you enjoy, or at least don't hate it. If you do, kindly keep it to yourself and move on. Cheers!
Updated 7/15/23 - I can't come up with a title, so I have removed the (Working Title) from the title.
Chapter 1: The beginning/the end
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
At the beginning
The Godswood of Kings Landing was quite peaceful when the lickspittles of the capital were off peacocking for the other members of the court elsewhere in the Red Keep. Prince Daemon closed his eyes and, for the first time in years, heard nothing but the breeze passing through leaves in the heart of his childhood home. His peace and quiet, well earned, was quickly interrupted. Fortunately for Daemon, it was interrupted by arguably his favorite person in the world.
Rhaenyra stood before him, no longer a child but a woman near grown, beautiful as only one of the dragon's blood could be. Yet glimpsing beyond that beauty, a weariness had a hold in her eyes, her shoulders, her entire stature. His niece had been alone these past years. His brother, beloved but a fool, had a young new wife and children. In his heart, he couldn't believe it to be intentional, but Rhaenyra had likely become an afterthought in Viserys's mind. With that odious cunt Otto Hightower whispering in his brother's ear, it was nothing short of a miracle that his dear niece hadn't been replaced by that sniveling half-breed yet. But it seemed a lack of disinheritance was all he could spare to give to his oldest child, his only living child, from his supposed one true love, Aemma.
She spoke to him, and he responded back without a moment's hesitation. Their conversation flowed easily, and Daemon felt himself relax for the first time in years. There were still dragons here. Rhaenyra was still here. He smirked, noticing the pendant he'd gifted here nearly five years ago. She was naïve then, a spoiled princess (thanks in large part to Daemon himself) with two loving parents and a brother that was set to displace both of them as heirs. That brother barely lasted a day, and their family started down a path to ruin. As they conversed, he saw his niece relax, and the impish, fiery girl he used to know began to peak through.
Daemon recalled the tight smile Viserys gave Rhaenyra in the garden, and remembered overhearing that Rhaenyra had her six-month suitor finding tour in half. He decided to push the issue. "I heard you were supposed to return in three months with a future consort. Dare I ask why you came home three months early?"
At once, her smile faded and an angry gleam entered her eyes. "Half the men were old enough to be my father, the other half young enough to call me mother!" she exclaimed. A fair enough, if somewhat shortsighted point. "How am I to build my support if my consort either has one hand already with the stranger or has just been weaned?" She questioned, and Daemon smiled. It seemed his niece wasn't as naïve as he'd heard.
She continued on, unprompted "And the suitors of age? Minor houses: the small council would never accept it. And all of them, all of them, looked at me like a piece of meat. The men who could tear their eyes from my chest could never meet my eyes. They all looked past me, towards their glorious future as consort, with a Targaryen bride to pump full of heirs. They want the throne, not Rhaenyra." Her statement took on an almost mournful tone towards the end.
"Iksos ziry foolish naejot jaelagon jorrāelagon, raqagon issa muñar ēdan? (Is it foolish to desire love, like my parents had?)" She questioned him directly, catching his gaze. "Se vali istan ōtor. Nyke jaelagon nykeā zaldrīzes. (The men were sheep. I want a dragon)." At this he smirked, and she looked away. A pregnant pause settled between them.
"Why are you here, Uncle?" she asked. Her cheeks were flushed, and he could see the way she twisted her rings subtly. Daemon was no stranger to desire, and he could not help but feel excitement. His niece, unwed, heir to their family's throne, a dragon rider of unmatchable beauty had declared throughout her childhood that her uncle would be her husband. Now, she was of age, and he could see, clear as day, her interest in him. Sheep indeed sweet niece, but before you stands a true dragon he thought to himself
"Only the comforts of home," he replied, and her blush darkened. She stepped closer. At once, a hush fell over the Godswood; the air felt charged.. Daemon was instantly alert. The leaves of the heart tree, only moments before flowing softly from a gentle breeze had gone stiff. The air around them quiet as a grave.
Something is not right here.
He palmed Dark Sister with one hand and grasped his niece's forearm with the other. "Umbagon va aōha guard. Nyke gaomagon daor pāsagon bisa. (Stay on your guard. I do not trust this)." he whispered and saw her stiffen before him. She moved closer, and he grabbed her shoulder and pulled her flush against him.
The breeze which had disappeared before returned in full force, now a gale wind that blew Rhaenyra's skirts asunder.
"It's going to feel like dying, but you must hold on," A voice whispered from behind them, and Daemon spun them around, ensuring Rhaenyra was behind him.
"My sister, my brother, you must endure," The voice whispered again, louder and more frantic now. The voice came from the Heart Tree. "All else has failed, now I must place all my faith in you. Forgive me."
The leaves of the Heart Tree were flurrying, and the very ground beneath them began to tremble.
"GUARDS!" Daemon cried, keeping an iron grip on Rhaenyra all the while. He could feel her arm trembling in his hand and loosened his grip slightly so as to reassure her.
Despite the previously sunny day, lightning struck the Heart Tree, and Daemon staggered back, keeping Rhaenyra behind him all the while. It struck once more and he backed up further, hollering for the guards once more. Smoke and dust spewed from the base of the Hearth Tree but the garden was quiet once more.
Daemon relaxed his posture somewhat, and he could feel Rhaenyra shift behind him, angling her body to see beyond his towering frame. Daemon turned to face her when he heard what sounded like coughing behind him. He tensed and gripped Rhaenyra again.
"Umbagon inkot issa. Lo nyke yell, mazverdagon syt se holdfast. Jiōragon naejot Viserys, (Stay behind me. If I yell, make for the holdfast. Get to Viserys)" he muttered, not trusting common to convey his urgency. She appeared to want to protest but closed her mouth and nodded promptly. "Kirimvose, (thank you)" he responded, and briefly kissed her forehead. Ignoring her blush, he spun around, unsheathing Dark Sister as he moved towards the Heart Tree and continued coughing.
Dust and smoke still permeated the air, but he could see what appeared to be a figure crawling around on all fours. How in the hells did they manage to sneak into the Red Keep, into the garden? He thought to himself, but shelved that query for a later time. .
Daemon walked swiftly but quietly, hoping to catch whoever was before him off guard. He could see them kneeling now, facing away. He raised Dark Sister prepared to strike should the intruder should they make any sudden moves. Another figure lay beside them, unmoving. They twitched, and Daemon swung Dark Sister down. To his immense disbelief, the stranger parried his strike. The clang of the two swords rang out, and Daemon winced at the shrill sound. He pulled back, and the intruder stood.
Was this a child he was fighting?
The smoke and dust finally began to clear; he was met with not a child, but a young woman with blood running down her face. He could make out desperate, grey eyes under the muck and blood. She was clutching her bleeding side with her right hand, and in her left…
"That's not possible," he whispered aloud, for how could such a thing possibly be? Gripped in the girl's left hand was Daemon's own sword. He would never, could never mistake Dark Sister so long as he lived, and there it was, held in her hand. Stranger still, Dark Sister still sat in his own.
The girl trembled a bit but stood her ground, leveling Dark Sister to his neck "Who are you?" she demanded, and he became incensed at her tone. Who was she to question a Prince of the Blood in his own home? "Where is Bran?" She yelled, and he grew even angrier. How dare this wench, this thief (Daemon ignored the voice in his mind asking him how she could steal something from him that was in his own hand) scream at him?
She took another step forward, then noticed the sword in his hand. She looked towards her own, still head shakily to his neck. "Seven hells Bran, what have you done?" she asked, and abruptly collapsed in front of him.
At the end
Hidden behind a well-placed tapestry of the Seven, Arya could not recall the last time she saw a living person. In truth it was likely not longer than a few hours ago, but trapped among the dead, it felt like a lifetime. The once immaculate red keep had become an immense tomb, and the scant resistance grew smaller each passing day. I could be the last one left. There is no pack, only me. She shook her head, banishing the negative thoughts. She must focus and find her family. Bran had been keeping to himself the past few days, muttering incoherent phrases. Jon had attempted to speak to him, to no avail.
They had taken shelter in the great hall under the shadow of the iron throne, and irony that was not lost on anyone. When they barred themselves in the throne room, Daenerys took a look at the throne and laughed until she began to weep. When Jon approached her, she waved him off "Everything I sacrificed before was for this throne. My brother, my son, my husband, my people. All for this ugly, useless chair!" Her tears turned to rage as she took Dark Sister from her scabbard and hacked away at the swords lowest to the ground, screaming in anger, in despair. Arya had watched in understanding
Like everyone else who'd survived to that point, Daenerys had suffered great losses. Her unsullied, killed and brought back during the failed battle at Winterfell. Her Dothraki, valiantly sacrificing their lives to allow others to escape at the Twins. Rhaegal had died there as well, killed by his own, reanimated brother.
What agony must it be to watch one child kill the other? Arya had thought to herself as they watched Rhaegal's death from Drogon's back. By that time there were so few remaining they were all able to escape on his back.
Despite her obvious despair, Daenerys had soldiered on and guided Drogon to Kings Landing. They'd landed directly in the courtyard of the Red Keep. It appeared the Spider still had friends within the capital, and despite their few numbers were able to take the Red Keep within the day.
Brienne had personally executed Cersei Lannister with Oathkeeper. What she whispered to Cersei remained a mystery to all present, but Arya could see tear tracks down her face before her head was removed from her body.
They barred the gates of the Red Keep, knowing that the army of the dead were just weeks away. The respite, though necessary to lick their wounds and gather strength, left them time to think on the dead.
They had no time to rescue those hiding in the Crypts the night they lost the battle for Winterfell. Arya could only hope that Sansa's death had been quick. A dark part of her mind whispered that he dagger Arya had shoved in her palm before the battle may have come in use. Valar Morghulis, no? All men must die, and your sister was no exception. Arya tried not to dwell on it. There was enough pain in the present without bringing up the past.
Sansa was not the only casualty of the Crypts. Tyrion Lannister, Missandei the scribe, Gilly the wilding and all the remaining women and children were left to die when word was spread that Winterfell was lost. Arya likely would have joined Sansa in death if not for Theon Greyjoy and Meera Reed. They stood between Bran the Night King, allowing Arya to sneak into the Godswood and whisk Bran away. Arya watched their last moments before fleeing the Godswood. Theon died from his own spear thrust into his stomach. Arya had not seen how Meera had gone but heard her scream as she fled down the halls, Bran draped over her shoulders.
Even more lives were lost at the twins. The last scions of House Tully, her Uncle Edmure and great uncle Brynden, both died in the fire that took down the first tower of the Twins. Jaime Lannister took command of the last of the Dothraki and Valemen and held the second tower. As they prepared to flee on Drogon, they watched as the reanimated Viserion unleased blue fire on the tower. No one could have survived that. None of us will survive the voice whispered again, this is where the world of men begins its end.
A guttural scream sounded through the halls, breaking Arya out of her reverie. Arya knew that scream. She took a shuddering breath. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Even now, Syrio's words brought her comfort. She would not abandon her fellow man. She gripped Needle ever closer, and slowly stepped out from behind the tapestry. The hall was empty, save for the headless corpses of wights. Another scream ran out, and Arya took off running. The sting of her last encounter with a wight had her limping not long after she began. The damn monster may have been undead, but it could wield a dagger well enough. Her bloody, aching side was proof of that.
She rounded a corner and found a newly deceased wight half covering a bloodied Daenerys. Her coat was ripped, and Arya could see the blood pooling beneath her body. Moving closer, Arya could see a dagger sticking out of her stomach. Daenerys saw her and smiled. It was the first time she'd seen her smile since before the battle of Winterfell. She weakly reached out her hand, and Arya went to her.
Arya knelt down beside the dragon queen, and tenderly took her hand. "I was…so worried that I would d-die alone. Thank you my friend, for being by my s-side," she rasped, and Arya gripped her hand.
"You are not going to die Daenerys" She responded, but the lie felt bitter on her tongue. Daenerys only laughed but quickly winced in pain.
"Yes I am. Valar Morghulis." Arya said nothing, and Daenerys closed her eyes. "And please, call me Dany." She opened her eyes again and stared up. From where she lay, you could see through a hole in the roof the night's sky. She lifted her other arm weakly. Still gripped in her hand was Dark Sister. "I want you to t-take it."
Arya opened her mouth to refuse, but Dany did not let her. "Take it and live to see another sunrise. Promise me." Arya promised, and delicately took the sword from her hand. Dany smiled again.
Her eyes became glassy, but her grip remained strong. "I just wanted to go home. The house with the red door, the lemon tree, I just wanted to go home." Arya had no idea what she was talking about but nodded her head. "Promise me we'll go to the house with the red door. Viserys is waiting there, Rhaegar and my mother as well." Arya promised again, and again Dany smiled. "Hurry now, we don't want to keep them…" her words trailed off, and the grip on her hand loosened. Arya looked up at her face, but her eyes were empty.
"Valar Morghulis, my Queen," she whispered, and closed Dany's eyes. Water dropped onto her face, and Arya realized she was crying. Arya did not know how long she sat there, holding vigil for the last Queen of Westeros. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. She carefully gripped Dark Sister and spun around, only to be greeted by Jon's handsome, scarred face. Dark Sister slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the floor.
He pulled her close and kissed her hair, and she gripped him back just as tightly. They broke apart, and he looked down at Dany. His eyes were pooling tears; mouth formed words, but no sound came out. "She did not die alone." Jon said nothing but gripped her hand again. "Have you seen anyone else?" She asked, but he shook his head. This is the end, we're the last of the pack. More tears threatened to fall, and she steeled herself.
A chorus of groans traveled down the hallway, and Jon faced her again, and gently kissed her forehead. "Different roads lead to the same castle. Who would have thought they meant this one?" He muttered, and she couldn't help but laugh. She picked up Dark Sister and stood by his side. If this was the end, so be it. The groans grew louder, and Arya fingered her grip. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The groans reached a crescendo and Arya braced herself.
"Sister, brother, hurry now," Arya startled, hearing Bran's voice in her head. She looked Jon, who appeared to be just as confused. "To the garden, you must make it to the Heart Tree. Hurry!" before she could comprehend his words she felt Jon pull on her hand. They raced down the hall, away from the oncoming wights.
"Left, right, another right," Bran's voice guided them through the maze of halls. They encountered no wights as they ran their way through the remains of the Red Keep.
Bran had them turn once more and they found themselves in a ruined garden. Bran sat at the base of the felled Heart Tree with a bloodied but still alive Brienne standing watch, and Arya ran to her brother. She encompassed him in a hug, and felt larger arms wrap around her own. A small tug led her to loosen her grip, and Jon did the same. Arya quickly nodded at Brienne in gratitude, who returned the nod and continued to keep watch.
"I am happy to see you, but we have no time for rejoicing. He is nearly here. We have run out of time and options." Arya gave her brother a questioning look, but he pressed on. "Place your hand on the Heart Tree, both of you," he ordered, and they followed without protest. Jon kneeled beside Arya, one hand on the stump and the other gripping her own. A screech of what could only be Viserion sounded out in the night; the Night King was closing in.
"It's going to feel like dying, but you must hold on." Arya looked at him questioningly, but he carried on. "My sister, my brother you must endure. All else has failed, now I must place all my faith in you. Forgive me."
He then spoke in a language Arya had never heard. It felt old, even older than the old tongue spoken by the Skagosi. He began to chant, and Arya felt tension build in her chest. She gripped Jon's hand tighter. She looked up and him and caught his eyes. All at once lightning struck the Heart Tree. She screamed in agony, and the Tree was struck again. She wanted to grip herself but remembered Bran's words. It took everything in her to keep her hand on the stump.
She closed her eyes, and darkness took her.
-x-
Moments, or perhaps an entire age later, Arya opened her eyes. Dust and smoke filled the air. She could feel another body next to hers. She squinted, and could make out Jon's cloak and Longclaw's pommel. She pushed herself up until she was on all fours, feeling the presence of steel at her waist. It appeared Dark Sister had made it as well.
Using what little strength she had left, she pushed herself up into a kneeling position and caught her breath. A footstep behind her made her freeze, and she quickly reached her left arm down to grab Dark Sister from her belt. She felt movement behind her and stood, raising Dark Sister defensively. A loud clang pierced the air, and she winced.
The dust cleared, and before her stood a tall man who could have easily been Dany's brother, father, or son. Have I died and made it to the Valyrian afterlife? She wondered. Until proven otherwise, Arya had to assume she was still alive. She looked around, but saw no sign of Bran or Brienne. She stared the unknown Valyrian in the eyes and raised Dark Sister to his neck. "Who are you?" she demanded and saw him grow angry. "Where is Bran?" she cried, and his expression grew darker. She broke eye contact and glanced down, only to see a very familiar sword in his hand. She looked at the sword still pointed at his neck
In her left hand she held Dark Sister, and his right hand, he held the same sword. What dark magic is this? She thought to herself. "Seven hells Bran, what have you done?" she asked allowed. Black spots flooded her vision, and she collapsed to the ground.
My dear brother, what hell have you sent us to?
Notes:
Update 6/28 - made a few grammatical updates, changed thoughts to bold and valyrian (and Bran talk) to italics. This is what happens when you post at 1 AM!
Valyrian Translation - hope it's accurate!
"Iksos ziry foolish naejot jaelagon jorrāelagon, raqagon issa muñar ēdan?" Is it foolish to desire love, like my parents had?
"Se vali istan ōtor. Nyke jaelagon nykeā zaldrīzes" The men were sheep. I want a dragon.
"Umbagon va aōha guard. Nyke gaomagon daor pāsagon bisa." Stay on your guard. I do not trust this.
"Umbagon inkot issa. Lo nyke yell, mazverdagon syt se holdfast. Jiōragon naejot Viserys" Stay behind me. If I yell, make for the holdfast. Get to Viserys
"Kirimvose" Thank you
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