| Chapter 01: The Sack of King’s Landing |

| Author's Note: Comments, Reviews and Powerstones are the only things that fuel my motivation to continue strong. |

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3rd Person Pov - Elia Martell - 283 Ac

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The Red Keep trembled. The distant shouts of collapsing wounded men, the thunder of boots clattering down the stone corridors, and the screams,— the endless screams of the innocent,— of women, men, and children filled the air.

It was as if the very red walls of King's Landing were mourning its own fall.

Elia Martell sat frozen in her chambers, her children pressed tightly to herself. She could hear the roar of flames outside, smell the stench of smoke drifting in from the city below. Her heart raced, but her limbs felt numb. She had always feared this day would come, but nothing could have prepared her mind for the reality of it.

Rhaenys, her eldest child, trembled against her side, her wide brown eyes filled with the unspoken question no child should ever need to ask.

"Mother, what will happen to us?"

Elia wanted to answer, to comfort her daughter, but the words wouldn't come. She knew the cold truth. They were doomed. The dragon had fallen, and the lions were at the gate,— death was coming for them.

She looked down at her son Aegon, barely a babe, as he stirred in her arms, his tiny hands clutching at the soft fabric of her dress. He let out a soft whimper, oblivious to the death that hung in the air like a storm cloud, and her hearth felt heavy with pain as she took in his form.

It was then that the doors to her chamber rattled, as more screams,— and the sound of fighting reached her ears. Elia flinched, clutching Aegon tighter, pressing her lips to his soft, silver hair. He was so small, so innocent. The weight of his future, a future that would never come, crushed her chest.

She could only hold on, only whisper one last prayer to the gods,— the very same that she no longer believed in.

The door then opened quietly. Too quietly.

Not with the crash of soldiers or the screams of war, but with a gentle click, as if someone meant to sneak in unnoticed.

Elia's breath caught in her throat, as a shadow moved in the doorway.

"Your Grace." a low, soft voice whispered.

Varys, the Spider, stepped into the chamber, his feet gliding over the stone as if he were a ghost. His pale, smooth face betrayed no emotion, his hands clasped inside his flowing robes.

Elia caught herself blinking twice, half expecting a monster,— Gregor Clegane, Tywin's great beast,— but it was the eunuch who approached her. The Master of Whispers who had always spoken in half-truths and shadows.

"Varys," she breathed, her voice hoarse from the smoke and fear. "They are coming, aren't they?"

"Unfortunetly, they are already here, Princess," Varys replied softly, stepping closer. His eyes flickered briefly to the door, then back to her children. "There is little time for useless chatter, I am afraid."

"I know." Elia whispered. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes but forced them back with a small sniff. "Rhaenys,— she's just a child. And Aegon…"

Varys lowered himself to one knee before her, his gaze calm but insistent. "Listen to me carefully, Princess. There is still hope for your house,— for your son, at least."

Her heart leaped righ then, though she feared to believe in him. "Hope? How?" She questioned him in disbelief.

Varys then reached into his robe, showing her a small bundle wrapped in cloth. Elia's breath caught in her throat as she recognized the figure of a small babe,— not her son, but another infant, identical in appearance to Aegon.

Said baby lays still in the man's arms, quiet, as if in deep sleep, and she caught herself frowning.

"I have prepared for this." Varys said. "Aegon's life does not have to end here, princess. We can save him, but we must act with haste."

And Elia's hands trembled as she looked from the bundle to her son. "What are you asking of me, Varys?"

"The boy will take his place. The world will believe that your son, Aegon Targaryen, perished today, along with his sister. But in truth, he will be spirited away. Across the sea, far from the Lannisters' reach. Aegon will grow, and one day, perhaps, he will return to claim his birthright, with fire and blood."

Elia's mind raced. It was madness. To trust her son's life to a man like Varys,— a man of secrets and whispers,— how could she be sure? Yet, what choice did she even have? If she did nothing, both her children would die at the hands of monsters.

And so, she looked down at Aegon, his tiny face so peaceful, so unaware of the world's cruelty.

Her heart clenched painfully. "They will kill him." she whispered, her voice breaking.

"They will kill him, like they killed Rhaegar."

"Not if you let me help him." Varys insisted gently. "I cannot save you of what is coming your way, my lady. But I can save him. For the sake of House Targaryen,— and the realm, he must live."

A long moment of silence passed after that, broken only by the distant clamor of war beyond the walls. Elia looked down at her son, feeling the crushing weight of her decision. She thought of Rhaegar,— the man she had loved despite everything,— and their dream of a brighter future for their children. That dream was ash now. All that remained was survival.

She nodded, though the tears streamed down her cheeks. "Take him." she whispered. "Take him, and make sure he lives."

Varys moved quickly, taking Aegon from her arms with the careful grace of a man well-accustomed to handling precious things. He swapped the boy for the other infant in the bundle, a child who would never know he was born to die in Aegon's place.

Elia leaned down and kissed her son's forehead one last time. "Valar morghulis, my sweet boy." she murmured. "But not you. Not yet."

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The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway. Heavy, armored. The dread that had been building in her chest since the sack began now bloomed fully, sharp and cold, as Gregor Clegane's monstrous silhouette appeared in the doorway.

The Mountain.

Elia's heart seized. She held Rhaenys closer, her fingers digging into her daughter's skin. "Stay behind me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Stay close."

Gregor stepped into the room, his great sword dragging against the stone. Blood dripped from the blade, forming a slick trail behind him. His armor was dented, his eyes dark and hollow beneath the helm.

Elia's breath was ragged now, her terror barely contained. She knew what was coming, but she would not beg.

"You have taken everything from us," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. "But I know your time will come,— so enjoy it well, for I am sure that you will pay with fire and blood, you monster."

The Mountain didn't respond however.

He was a creature of violence, a blunt instrument of death. And his lips curled in a cruel smile as he raised his sword.

Varys had already long vanished, taking Aegon to safety, and Elia knew it was too late for her and Rhaenys. Her body moved on instinct, shielding her daughter as Gregor advanced with the intent to kill her.

Rhaenys whimpered behind her, clutching her skirt, too terrified to speak.

The sword came down, and Elia closed her eyes.

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Flashback to before Rhaegar left Elia - Dragonstone

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She remembered the way Rhaegar had looked at her the last time they were together. It was in the halls of Dragonstone, before he rode to his death, at the Trident.

His eyes had been full of distant sorrow, his mind already lost to prophecies and dreams of a promised prince.

"I will return," he had said, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. "And when I do, we will make the world anew. Our son… He will be the one to unite the kingdoms, Elia."

She had smiled then, weak and tired, though a part of her still hoped. "And if you do not return, husband?"

He had only looked away, into the flames that flickered wildly in the hearth. "Then let him be the flame that burns."

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| End of the flashback - Back with Elia, at the present |

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"A-Aegon..." Elia gasped as the sword cleaved through her then, the pain as sharp as the steel itself.

Blood pooled beneath her, staining the stone floor of the chamber. Her vision blurred, but through the haze, she was able to see Rhaenys' wide, terrified eyes staring at her.

Elia's strength was fading, but she reached out with a trembling hand, cupping her daughter's face. "Be brave, my love." she whispered.

The Mountain laughed, a deep, rumbling sound as he stepped forward, the blade of his sword dripping with blood.

The last thing Elia saw was the glint of steel in the dim light, and then, mercifully, darkness took her.

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Scene change to beneath the Red Keep - Some moments later

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Far from the bloodshed, Varys moved quickly through the secret passages beneath the Red Keep, cradling the infant prince in his arms. Aegon was silent now, as if he mysticly understood the gravity of the moment.

The Spider would see him to safety, to a faraway land where the name Targaryen meant nothing,— at least not to the emperor himself.

But one day, Varys promised himself, one day the world would remember. And the boy in his arms would rise like the dragon his ancestors once rode.

And as they descended deeper into the darkness, the sounds of King's Landing burning faded into silence.

One day, the price of Fire And Blood would come knocking at Westeros' doors.

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| Author's Ending Note: So, what are your thoughts, dear readers? Any thoughts of how this story will play out? I'm excited! |