Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos

"How many dynasties have collapsed under conspiracies, lies and assassinations? Countless in human history, no dynasty was eternal, but I want to make one that is eternal." Aenar Targaryen, sitting on the Iron Throne.

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Rhaenys had met Lyanna when she was still pregnant. She didn't understand why she had to call another woman Muna, but since her father and mother had asked her to, she had done it. In the end, she lost both Munas.

Under Rhaenys' shocked eyes, Lyanna was giving birth, and it didn't take a genius to know the identity of the boy at that moment.

She had witnessed everything, from Aenar's birth to the moment Eddard Stark rushed into the room, finding his Muna on the verge of death, a large pool of blood beneath her.

Rhaenys felt tears gathering in her eyes. Despite promising herself that she would never cry again, she couldn't hold back the hot drops that slid relentlessly down her cheeks.

"Promise me, Ned. Promise me."

"You must protect him. If Robert finds out about him, he'll kill him..."

"You must protect him... protect him..."

Rhaenys sniffled, wiping away the tears that kept streaming down her face. She watched Lyanna with a mixture of sorrow and admiration, while she, in her last breath, still thought of her son's safety rather than her own.

Then Rhaenys' world changed again. She was no longer in the Tower of Joy, but back in the field of flowers, where a deafening silence now hung in the air.

"I hate to see that moment, but my mind always goes back to that moment, her death is something I hate with all my might. The worst thing is knowing that if she had been in the Red Keep, surrounded by the best meisters, she would have survived." Rhaenys listened to her brother speak, his voice calm but emanating a sense of sadness that she was all too familiar with.

She knew exactly that pain, the pain of losing her ground and heaven.

Brother. A word she never thought she would have to address to another person again. And yet, here she was, standing in front of her younger brother.

Looking down at him still lying in the sea of blue flowers, Rhaenys moved closer and brought him into the comfort of her bosom while stroking his hair tenderly.

"There, there." She whispered in his ear, trying to convey as much comfort as possible. It was a big sister's duty to look after her little brother, and at that moment, that was exactly what she was doing. She couldn't do it with Aegon, but she could keep her promise to Lyanna with Aenar.

Jon looked at the nine-year-old girl trying to comfort him and was speechless. He wasn't a child, how could he need comfort from a girl who wasn't even ten years old. However, he didn't move and let her do what she wanted, because it wasn't that he was being consoled, but also Rhaenys.

As he had imagined, he soon felt his shoulder get wet. Her embrace, instead of loosening, became tighter as time passed, as if Rhaenys feared that everything around her would disappear in a dream - which, in a way, it really was.

Suddenly, feeling the connection between them weaken, Jon looked up at the girl who was still holding him tightly and spoke gently:

"You're about to wake up, Rhaenys."

At his words, her embrace became even more intense.

Rhaenys felt the heat of shame rise to her face as she realized that she had cried in front of her younger brother. She looked at the boy with the incredibly adorable features and, with a threatening tone, declared:

"Call me Rhae."

Seeing the look on her face, Jon couldn't help but want to squeeze her cheeks, but he held back and obeyed her earlier request. "Rhae."

A big smile appeared on Rhaenys' lips, she never thought she would hear something so intimate and sweet come from her brother's lips again.

Before she could say anything, darkness swirled before her and before she knew it, she was in her room in Sunspear, in the chair she had fallen asleep in earlier.

Looking around desperately, Rhaenys couldn't find the figure of the boy with the white-gold hair and purple eyes. This brought a feeling of extreme anxiety to her chest, as if someone was holding her feelings in their hand and squeezing as hard as they could, leaving her breathless.

Slumping helplessly in her chair, the Targaryen princess hiding under an alias in Dorne couldn't help but stare at the ceiling of the room with an expressionless, lifeless gaze. How did it feel to hope and then find out that it was all just a lie?

Rhaenys could answer that question with extreme accuracy. It was as if the world had lost its color, even the most delicious food had no taste and the sweetest wine seemed like candle wax. Happiness, joy, feelings had completely disappeared.

Leaving her with only an empty, indifferent shell in a relentless pursuit of revenge and hatred.

No!

"That can't be a dream!" Rhaenys thought fiercely as she rose from her chair. There was a way to find out if what she had dreamt was real or just a hallucination in the face of her neediness and extreme desires to have a family again.

At nine years old, Rhaenys was intelligent and mature for her age, coming to terms with her thoughts in an instant. "Ask Uncle Oberyn what happened at the Tower of Joy."

Slapping both hands against both cheeks, Rhaenys regained the sparkle in her eyes. She slipped her silk shoes on quickly, didn't wait for the maids to arrive to fix her hair and went straight out of the room.

The sun streamed through the windows of the Old Palace's corridors like tentacles of light, bathing the sandy walls in a pale shade of gold.

Rhaenys's steps were quick and particularly silent. She ignored the countless doors and corridors, focusing on getting to the place where her uncle would be all morning. The courtyard, where he trained every day at the same time of day.

As she expected, Rhaenys found her uncle wielding a spear as skillfully as an extension of his body. The spear could suddenly change direction and arc through the air, like a snake striking its prey. His movements weren't pretty, they were deadly and precise.

Prince Oberyn has the characteristics of a salty Dornish. He is a tall, slender, graceful and fit man with a wrinkled, saturnine face with thin eyebrows, black "viper" eyes and a pointed nose. His hair was a lustrous shade of black, with just a few silver locks from age.

Rhaenys didn't have to wait long before his uncle stopped training to catch his breath. Wiping the sweat dripping from his forehead, he let out a satisfied sigh and cracked his neck, his eyes narrowed viciously, almost like a snake's, which could seem extremely threatening to anyone.

"Father!" Rhaenys called out, approaching him.

In order to hide her identity from the spies in Sunspear, she was just another of Oberyn Martell's bastards with a prostitute in Lys, at the same time, she had been given a new name.

"Rhayna." Oberyn turned and greeted his niece, whom he had raised as his own daughter, with a gentle, warm smile, a totally different expression from when he spoke to anyone else.

Rhayna Sand.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, stroking his niece's tousled hair, something not very elegant for a Southern Lady, but irrelevant in Dorne.

"I want to ask you something." Rhaenys didn't answer and asked looking straight into her uncle's eyes.

Raising an eyebrow in doubt, he looked at the nine-year-old girl with a touch of curiosity and spoke. "Ask away, child."

"I want to ask if Eddard Stark has a bastard called Jon Snow." Rhaenys was direct, without hiding her intentions.

Although he was becoming increasingly surprised and confused, he still answered truthfully. "Yes, he has a bastard called Jon Snow. I remember it because it was a hot topic at the time. The honorable Eddard Stark, with his impeccable reputation, had his honor tarnished at that time."

Rhaenys sighed with relief and smiled brightly. Although she didn't know if Jon was really Aenar, her brother. Now at least she had hope that the dream she'd had last night was real and not a hallucination of her brain.

As long as Jon Snow was a real person, the dream was real too.

After all, she had never heard that name before, but in the dream she had met him and even spoken to him, as well as fought with him and learned about his origins.

How could something like that be her imagination!

However, Rhaenys' cheerful, innocent smile made Oberyn's eyes widen in complete surprise. How many years had it been since he had seen his niece smile like that, so sweet, gentle and genuinely happy, unlike the forced smile she had most of the time.

Although he didn't know what caused this happiness, Oberyn didn't care, as long as she was happy, he was more than satisfied.

"I'm going to take a bath and we'll break our fast together with my brother." Oberyn stroked her hair once more and spoke in a gentle, laughing tone. Not giving her time to reply, he left holding his spear, leaving little Rhaenys alone in the courtyard with a happy and joyful expression.

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