Chapter Text
They had lost. The Night King and his army of the dead had decimated the men and women in their way, only adding to their numbers. Lyarra Snow, or Rhaena Targaryen which she later learned was her birth name, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, led her army into battle with the dead. She watched her family and friends fall with only a few left to their ever dwindling numbers.
Her Aunt Daenerys fell during the initial battle. An ice spear hit Drogon, piercing the dragon’s throat. He fell; hard. Daenerys was still clinging onto Drogon’s back as they fell into a sea of dead bodies. The Mother of Dragons didn’t even get a chance to scream before her body was ripped apart.
When they retreated, Rhaena and a few others rushed to the crypts to get the women and children out, Rhaena’s sister, Sansa, was one of them. She didn’t expect to find only the dead. One of the first bodies she saw was Sansa herself. Her red hair was matted with blood a shade darker than her hair, and her once sweet, Tully blue eyes were now shining the cold, bright blue of the dead. The long dead Starks buried in the crypts had risen, too, slaughtering the people taking shelter.
Tormund had to drag her away as she was screaming Sansa’s name. Arya appeared next to her, tears in her Stark grey eyes as she closed the crypt back up, sealing everything inside.
Rhaena led her remaining troops south, hoping that they would eventually be far enough to rest and prepare for the next fight, but the Dawn never came and the Night King followed them wherever they went. She lost Arya, Gendry, Bronn, and Sandor in one fell swoop.
The Night King had Bran cornered. Rhaena was fighting her way through to get to him, but Arya beat her to it. The smaller woman leaped at the Night King with a battle cry, but the dead warrior was faster. He grabbed Arya by the throat, and Rhaena had to watch as the life was choked out of her youngest sister. The Night King finished her off by snapping her neck, letting her lifeless body fall to the snowy ground.
“No!” Gendry cried, running over with his war hammer raised. He swung towards the Night King, who easily dodged the blow, and shoved his spear through Gendry’s chest, killing him instantly. Gasping for breath, Rhaena looked around to see more of her soldiers falling or already dead.
“Retreat!” She ordered. “Move back!” The rest of the living moved back, running further south. She saw Sandor fighting back to back with Bronn and Jaime near him. Bronn took a sword to the knee protecting Jaime’s back and then a knife slid into his throat. He choked, collapsing to his knees and died slowly. Jaime ran towards Rhaena, reaching towards her with his golden hand, which she grasped tightly. Sandor looked over at Arya’s fallen form and his eyes grew frigid. He had lost the only two people he truly cared for, Arya and Sansa. He looked back at Rhaena with a determined look on his face and titled his head in a mockery of a bow before tossing himself into the fray of the dead, taking out as many as he could before he disappeared under the sea of bodies and didn’t resurface.
“Rhae, come on!” Jaime urged, his arm now looped around her waist as they took off in a sprint.
The remaining couple hundred of her men put enough distance between them that they had day of rest, and Jaime took the opportunity to ask her to marry him. “Are you sure?” She questioned, gripping his flesh hand tightly. “We’re most likely going to die tomorrow.”
“All the better reason,” he urged with a bright smile. Rhaena didn’t expect to fall in love with the man who killed her grandfather or crippled her brother, yet there she was; completely in love. She smiled and leaned forward to press her lips to his.
“Alright,” she agreed. “I’ll marry you.”
“About bloody time,” Tormund grumbled good naturedly, clasping her shoulder with a heavy hand.
Tormund gave her away while Davos led the ceremony. She wanted Bran to give her away, but he stated that as the Three Eyed Raven he was no longer her brother. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”
Jaime reached for her and Rhaena clasped her hands with his. “Let it be known,” Davos continued. “That Jaime of House Lannister and Rhaena of House Targaryen are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder. In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”
“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger,” Rhaena and Jaime said in unison.
“I am hers and she is mine.”
“I am his and he is mine.”
“From this day, until the end of my days.”
“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Jaime whispered, leaning forward to capture Rhaena’s lips in their first as husband and wife.
“Unfortunately, I’m not sure how legally binding this was as I’m not a Septon,” Davos admitted.
“Fuck it,” Jaime breathed, kissing her again.
“The Gods owe us one,” Rhaena agreed.
“Does that mean it’s time for the bedding ceremony?” Tyrion questioned from his brother’s side. Both Rhaena and Jaime shot him a glare.
“No,” they replied in unison. Unfortunately for them, there was no time to fully consummate their marriage. Rhaena could feel the air getting colder, meaning the dead wasn’t too far away.
Their lovemaking was quick and passionate with too much clothing on, but Rhaena still thought it was perfect because it was with the man she loved in this lifetime and hopefully the next.
A few short hours later, they were battling again, though this time Rhaena could feel it in the pit of her stomach that this would be the last. She lost sight of Jaime a few minutes previous and she was pretty sure she saw the light blonde hair of Brienne disappear into the darkness about half a mile away, but she wasn’t completely sure. Rhaena blocked another sword, slicing the White Walker in front of her in half before something collided with her armored back. She glanced down to see what had hit her and fell to her knees with a cry when her husband’s lifeless green eyes stared up at her from his severed head.
As she stood back up, a blow hit her in the chest, caving in the black armor that was supposed to protect her from such a hit, and dropped to a knee again. Rhaena felt her mouth fill with blood as she coughed, knowing the hit did some damage internally. She looked up and saw Gendry standing there, war hammer poised for another strike.
Was this how Rhaegar felt as he stared down Robert Baratheon? How poetic it was that Robert’s bastard was about to kill Rhaegar’s daughter with the same weapon of choice. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning forward with all her might, shoving Longclaw into Gendry’s stomach.
Rhaena tried standing back up when a cold blade slipped into her side. She gasped, feeling her muscles weaken quickly and she fell into the snow, blood pooling around her. She blinked slowly, each breath becoming more difficult as her vision darkened along the edges. I’m so sorry, she thought, tears springing to her grayish-indigo eyes. I failed you all.
With one final gasp, Rhaena finally succumbed to her injuries.
~~
Chest heaving, Rhaena shot up with a gasp. She was warm; warmer than she’s been in months. She glanced down at the furs covering her and realized that she was sitting up on something soft. She looked around wildly, realizing she was in her old room in Winterfell. “What?” She gasped, standing up clumsily and making her way towards the door. It swung open before she could reach it and Robb was standing there, tears staining his still wet face.
“Lyarra?” He croaked. They stared at each other before a sob ripped out Rhaena’s chest and she launched herself forward into Robb’s arms. They clutched each other tightly, neither willing to let go. Rhaena always felt closer to Robb than any other sibling, even Arya. They were more like twins to her. “I thought you dead,” he cried, face buried into her mess of dark curls.
“I was,” she whispered, a shiver going down her spine as her thoughts went to the cold eyes of the dead and the cold blade that ended her life and her husband’s. Oh, Gods. Jaime.. He was probably in bed with Cersei and didn’t even remember her or what they went through. But Robb did, so did that mean others did as well? Davos, Tormund, Dany? “Gods, so were you, Robb! I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” His arms tightened.
“I’m glad you weren’t. You would’ve been slaughtered along with the rest of us. What happened when you left? I know you died before me-”
“I didn’t,” Rhaena cut him off with a head shake. “I died a few years later.”
“Where did you go after father left? I looked everywhere for you, and then all I get is one letter telling me you’re fine?” He pushed away from her a bit, grabbing Rhaena’s now much thinner shoulders. “I was worried.”
“I went to the wall,” she admitted. Robb’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. “I cut my hair and passed myself off as a boy named Jon. I learned how to fight there.” Robb stayed silent for a moment, staring at Rhaena in disbelief before he exhaled shakily.
“Did - did anyone learn your secret? The men that get sent to the wall - murders, rapists. Gods, anything could have happened to you, Lyarra!” His voice raised near the end and Rhaena had to place her hand over his mouth to keep him quiet.
“Enough with the dramatics, dear brother. What happened, happened.”
“You aren’t planning on joining again, are you?” Robb questioned, smacking her hand away from his face.
“No,” she assured him with a serene smile. “I have other plans that I need to set into motion quickly.” Robb’s eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, but when he opened his mouth to voice it, a scream echoed down the hall.
Rhaena tore out of her room and into Sansa’s rooms quickly. Sansa was sitting up in bed, face red and chest heaving. She threw herself into Rhaena’s arms as quickly as she could. “Why didn’t we think about the crypts?” She cried. “They were everywhere! Gods, it was a massacre! We didn’t stand a chance!” Rhaena just soothingly stroked her, making soft humming noises to calm her.
“I know, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“We have to plan better,” Sansa continued from the warm embrace of her elder sister. “We know what is coming, and-” she paused, leaning back. “How do we know what’s coming? Gods, how old am I? How old are you? Rhae, you haven’t looked this young since I left with father and Arya to King’s Landing.”
“Why are you calling her Rhae?” Robb questioned from the doorway. Sansa peeked over Rhaena’s shoulder and her blue eyes filled with tears again and she made her way over to him in a matter of seconds.
“Robb!” She cried, throwing her arms around him. He held her tightly, stroking her hair as Rhaena did a moment previous, murmuring softly to her.
Arya suddenly appeared, young and wild again, slamming into Rhaena’s side with enough force to send them both careening into Robb and Sansa. The two only laughed as the four of them wrapped each other up in their arms. Rhaena noticed that Arya was trembling faintly, minute shudders shaking her slight shoulders. “His eyes, Rhae,” she whispered. “Everything was so cold.” Robb was staring down at both of their younger sisters with concern and confusion.
“Lyarra, what happened after I died?” He questioned, Tully blue eyes meeting gray-indigo.
“Too much to cover in one night,” she answered with a small grin that probably didn’t meet her eyes.
“Ugh,” she heard Sansa say, disgust painting her tone. Rhaena looked at her and saw Sansa’s gaze glaring pointedly at a dress laid out on a chair. It was bright and frilly; Southern. “I will need to sow a new wardrobe for us. Especially Arya.”
“Please,” Arya chuckled. “I saw a dress laid out for me, as well. I miss trousers.” Rhaena snorted in amusement at her sisters, and then she saw Robb’s confused, and possibly a little frightened, expression. “Is anyone aware of what time we came back to?”
“Well, I do not hear Joffrey complaining about the cold in the castle, so I assume before Jon Arryn was murdered,” Sansa replied.
“Which means he could be finding out now that Cersei and Jaime were together and that the King’s kids are the products of incest,” Arya finished. Rhaena’s lips pressed together tightly at the thought of Jaime and Cersei fucking in this lifetime. The thought hurt. She didn’t want that whore anywhere near her husband. Could Rhaena still call Jaime her husband?
“Lyarra? Where did you go?” Robb questioned, ducking his head down to be able to look into her eyes. She blinked and took a deep breath.
“Nowhere; I’m fine.”
“She’s thinking about-” Arya started before Sansa slapped her hand over the younger girl’s mouth.
“Arya,” Rhaena warned sharply. Her gray eyes stared at her in confusion before they widened as she shot Robb a look.
“Oh, right; he doesn’t know.”
“Someone needs to explain some things right now!” Robb finally exploded, hands raising in exasperation.
“Yes, I agree,” a voice that Rhaena hadn’t heard in years said from the doorway. She turned and there was her father; well, her uncle.
Ned Stark.