Chapter 2 Dragon's Awakening: The Rebirth of Valarissa Targaryen

The creator nodded in a slow, deliberate manner, "Very well," it said " You will remember nothing of your time in void , any and all the benefits you gain from the Gift I gave you need to mastered by yourself and finally you will only regain your memories of your past life once you reach a certain age, .

Until then, you will live as an ordinary child, oblivious to your true identity." The being stated.

Laila's heart skipped a beat upon realizing the significant disadvantage this entailed. However, a certain something instilled within her the confidence that she could overcome it.

With a nod of agreement, she affirmed her choice, knowing that she could change her status with hard work even if she was to be born a basterd, but she had her own fare share of worries, if she were to be white Walker, wildling or an slave even with her Modern-day knowledge as martial arts skill she won't be able to survive in that world.

Laila expressed her gratitude for the opportunity, her tone serious and her voice filled with determination. She recognized that this moment held the potential to end the life of Liala, who she would in her next life yet to be known, but her resolve to create a better life for herself and overcome the looming darkness was unwavering.

The creator, acknowledging the unfulfilled wish, offered compensation by stating, "Take this as a token of recompense for not granting your desired wish." In that instant, a brilliant green light flashed and entered Laila's body.

Surprised, she inquired, "What was that?"

As soon as those words left her lips, a swirling vortex of energy engulfed Laila, pulling her into its grasp. The familiar world around her dissolved, replaced by a mesmerizing display of vibrant colors and exhilarating sensations. It felt as though she had been transported to an alternate realm, where the boundaries of reality blurred and endless possibilities awaited.

••

By the seaside, a funeral was taking place, adorned with somber colors that reflected the heavy atmosphere of grief. Among the mourners were members of the Royal family of Targaryen and Nobles from Westeros. Amidst them stood a girl of ten names day with ethereal beauty unbeffiting of a child, lost in a daze, her red teary eyes mirroring the pain etched on her face. Even among the Targaryens, known for their striking looks, she possessed a divine beauty that left onlookers in awe. Standing beside her was Rhaenyra Targaryen, her eldest sister, accompanied by her friend and confidante, Alicent Hightower. They stood silently, offering a comforting presence during this time of sorrow.

As the mourners gathered, a figure emerged from the crowd. It was Deamon Targaryen, who approached the grieving girls with gentle words and a heavy heart. His intention was to console them and remind them of their duty to their father, Viserys Targaryen. Although his voice sounded normal, it carried a deep sadness as he spoke softly to Rhaenyra, sharing memories and offering solace in the face of their devastating loss. However, the girl standing beside Rhaenyra remained unresponsive, seemingly detached from the world around her.

Rhaenyra cast a helpless glance towards her younger sister, her heart breaking at the sight of her distant and unresponsive demeanor. She understood that grief affected each person differently, but she couldn't help but worry about her sister's well-being. It was evident that the weight of their shared loss had taken a toll on her sister's spirit. Rhaenyra yearned to reach out and provide comfort, to offer solace during this dark hour. Yet, she also recognized that each individual had to find their own path through mourning.

With a deep sigh, Rhaenyra took a step forward, her eyes shifting towards her father's lifeless and agonizing gaze. It was painful for her to witness him standing there, but she also felt anger towards his desire for a son, a desire that had cost her and her sister their mother.

The weight of responsibility settled heavily on her shoulders as she reluctantly uttered the command that only a true dragonlord could give: "Dracarys!" The word hung in the air for a brief moment before a mighty roar filled the space.

In response to Rhaenyra's command, the dragon materialized, its scales reflecting the flickering flames of the funeral pyre. The presence of such a magnificent creature served as a stark reminder of the power and legacy of House Targaryen. For a fleeting second, Rhaenyra's gaze met her father's lifeless eyes. There was pain and resignation in that glance, and as she looked at her sister's dazed expression, she directed her gaze towards the dragon.

As the dragon unleashed its fiery breath upon the pyre, flames consumed Aemma Targaryen's body. The intense heat mingled with the collective sorrow that hung in the air, creating an ethereal atmosphere. The funeral pyre became a symbol of farewell and new beginnings, as Aemma's spirit soared into the heavens on wings of fire.

The girl possessed an ethereal beauty that seemed to radiate divinity, yet she remained motionless amidst the chaos and symbolism unfolding before her eyes. Lost in her own thoughts and emotions, she paid little attention to the presence of the dragon or its fiery spectacle.

She stood there, seemingly trapped in a dream, oblivious to the world around her. Little did anyone suspect that within this girl, a dormant force was awakening, bringing forth a strength and resilience that would shape her own destiny and influence the future of House Targaryen.

In the midst of the solemn silence of the funeral, a gasp pierced the air. Liala, now reborn as Valarissa Targaryen, collapsed to the ground, her face contorted with an unimaginable pain. A cry of "The Princess!" reverberated through the crowd, shattering the mournful stillness. Guards swiftly moved forward, a blur of silver and steel, to cradle her unconscious body.

The ceremony, steeped in ancient Targaryen traditions, was abruptly concluded. A concerned maester declared Valarissa unharmed, but in need of rest. However, as the royal carriage made its way back to King's Landing, a storm raged within the unconscious princess.