GoT: The Blessed and the Cursed

Year 283 AC

"You should have gone with the Prince, Arthur." A Knight, clad in golden armour, walked towards the door where a much taller Knight was stationed, and seeing the lost expression on his friend's face, he could not help but sigh. 

"I promised Rhaegar that I will always stay by Young Prince's side." The son of the Lord of the House Dayne, and one of the most famous Knights in the Kingdom, hailed as the Sword of the Morning, answered with conviction that made the younger Knight sigh again. 

"Will he make it?" He whispered and watched a dangerous glint pass Arthur's purple eyes. 

"The Prince only has a slight fever, Mooton."

"Slight you say, but all the Maesters have failed to help him wake up. How long has it been now? Six moons?" Myles asked and showed hints of frustration that made the other Knight frown. 

However, having known him for years, Dayne knew that the younger Knight was just restless and meant no harm. The injury he had received during the Battle of Bells had not yet healed, and his left arm was clearly very stiff. 

Mooton's face looked pale as well, bearing clear signs of fatigue, and any normal person in his condition would not dare to get out of bed, much less wear his armour and come to perform his duty.

Arthur was there the day Myles had vowed to protect Rhaegar with his life, but the Prince had not taken him along when he marched to the Trident to meet the rebels. 

He was kind as ever and asked him to stay back and heal. Upon his continued insistence, the Crown Prince finally gave him a task and told him to protect his son together with him. 

Myles did not want to stay back. He wanted to march to the Trident, but he could also not disobey the command of the one he had promised his life. 

Rhaegar was always very clear with his commands.

And now, the young Knight was restless, both in mind and heart, and so, the Dayne did not make things difficult for him.

"Aye, six moons." He whispered. "Get some rest, Mooton. You can not even guard yourself in this state." 

"Shut up, Dayne." 

The irritated response made Arthur smile, and then the two knights stood side by side, guarding the door of the Prince, who was the light of this Keep. 

A Light that had fallen asleep six moons ago, and still had not woken up. 

"Is it true?" 

"What?" 

"Rhaegar once said something about the Young Prince being a Dreamer. He said that the Young Prince can see glimpses of the past in his sleep." Myles glanced at him, but Arthur's expression remained impassive. 

"Who knows." 

"And Magic?" 

The question made the Sword of the Morning frown, and as much as he trusted Myles, he did not tolerate this line of inquiries.

"Do not let the rumours trick your mind, Mooton." 

"I..." 

"You are speaking too much today." The coldness in his voice was enough to turn his companion silent. 

However, the silence only lasted for a few moments, and a sad whisper, which held all of his companion's fears, entered his ears. 

"I feel hollow, Arthur. The walls of this Keep suffocate me. I don't like this ominous feeling. I keep thinking that I should have marched with Rhaegar." 

The Sword of the Morning remained silent at his words. Was not this the same reason that made him restless as well?

Arthur did not want to say or even entertain the thought, but he really felt like he would never see his Crown Prince again. 

Yes, the old Barristen had gone with him. He had faith in his skill, but neither Lewyn Martell nor Jonothos Darry was a match for Robert. 

As much as he disliked that scum, he had to admit that the Baratheon Rebel was a mighty warrior. 

Arthur hoped that Rhaegar would not face him by himself. A single misstep would cost him his life. And never had he ever wished before that his Crown Prince was not such an honourable and kind man. 

Gods, he prayed that his fears would not come true.

He had seen enough honourable men meet an early end.

"Get some rest, Mooton. You are losing your mind." 

"Shut up, Dayne." 

Behind the door that the two were guarding, inside the room that was lavishly decorated, a young girl, probably around fourteen namedays old, with long and lustrous raven hair, lay soundly asleep in the large bed. Next to her was a young boy, whose silver-blonde hair was still as lustrous as they were on the night he had gone to sleep six moons ago. 

He had just passed his ninth nameday a few weeks ago, but he was tall, even taller than his father had been at this age, and he was ethereal. 

Azaerys Targaryen, the Twin who survived, was born to Rhaegar Targaryen and his younger sister by a year, and wife, Shaena Targaryen, in the year 274 AC. His birth was not celebrated and it was because whilst he survived, his twin sister was a Stillborn. 

The day that was supposed to be the most joyous day of the Prince and Princess's lives, turned out to be very melancholic, and Shaena never recovered from the difficult childbirth, which left her sick and eventually claimed her life before Azaerys even saw his second nameday. 

Some people with evil intentions started spreading rumours that the Young Prince was an Ill Omen; That he claimed the life of his twin in their mother's womb and then claimed the life of his mother whilst she held him in her embrace. 

The fact that the King started becoming more crazed after his birth, only fuelled these ridiculous rumours, and despite Rhaegar and Queen Rhaella's efforts, these ill thoughts still travelled within the city and the Keep. 

However, anyone who knew Azaerys would paint a very different picture of the Young Prince. 

He was the Prince who laughed the most, and whose laughter brightened everyone's mood. He was the Prince who was kind to all, just like his father, and he loved playing with the maids, enjoyed playing pranks on the Knights, and was so patient with the servants and everyone that they could not help but love him. He was well-mannered, never making things too difficult for anyone, and he was an attentive student.

Despite these facts, whenever those who had ill feelings towards the Targaryens heard such words, they would call the Young Prince an Evil Charmer. And then they would point towards the King, asking questions about his contrasting behaviour towards everyone else and Azaerys. 

The Mad King, to the confusion of people, seemed very normal whenever the Young Prince was around him. His Council had even seen him show compassion and care to his grandchild, something he had long stopped showering on anyone else. They did not even remember the last night the King had shown any affection towards his son, Rhaegar, and even towards his wife, who had been by his side all his life. 

However, with Azaerys by his side, Aerys, the Mad King, was Aerys, the Kind, as he was in younger days before the madness gripped him, but as soon as the Young Prince would go out of his sight, the King would return to being crazy and would start talking to himself and the shadows. 

Even the sanest of minds could not help but see that something was strange with the Young Prince, and given the rumours that were going around, people started growing wary of Rhaegar's eldest child.

The last days before he went to sleep, even the servants were scared around him, and their estranged behaviour had caused him immense sorrow. 

"Did I do something wrong?" He innocently asked Ashara, but despite all her efforts, his mood did not improve. 

Now, that he had been silent, away from their eyes, the people in the Keep strangely felt hollow deep inside their hearts. It was just as if someone had stolen the light of their lives from them.

And those who were wishing for Azaerys' death, would surely rejoice if they knew what kind of hell the innocent Prince was going through. 

What had the child not seen in his never-ending dream this time?

He had seen Blood, Fire, betrayal, Kinslaying, Madness, Genocide, Lust, Greed, Arrogance, and sheer stupidity of people that infuriated him to the core. 

From the time the Ancient Magical tribes roamed the land of Essos, to when they disguised themselves as shepherds, to the time they rediscovered the long lost creatures in the Fourteen Flames, and how they rose above everyone by binding the Dragons to their Blood. 

He saw the rise and fall of the Valyrian Freehold, he saw the tragic fate of the beautiful creatures who paid the price of the Valyrian Nobles' overindulgence in the Blood and Dark Magic, and he saw the bloody aftermath of the Doom. 

And if the pain he felt over those tragedies was not enough, he saw how his House made Dragonstone their home. He saw how Visenya and Aegon decided to unite the Kingdoms of Westeros into an Empire, and he saw how they realised their dream. 

Azaerys saw how the unworthy people sat on the Iron Throne, how weak they were, and how they stopped honouring their Blood and mingled with the sheep, taking and accepting their traditions and Gods as their own. 

Was not it laughable that the Dragons sought the approval of the Sheep? 

He saw how the power slipped from their hands and how the enemies grew bolder when Targaryens lowered themselves to their level and started treating them as equals. 

The Young Prince felt ashamed of the actions of his ancestors and wanted nothing but to turn them to ashes as he witnessed them making stupid and utterly selfish choices one after the other. 

He saw how the worthy and those who honoured their Blood never really got to sit on the Throne, and they paid the price for their loyalty to their family. 

The greed and lust for power of crazed children of the failure of a King and Father eventually led to the demise of the Dragons, and what followed next was nothing but a nightmare. 

It was a miracle that his noble Blood had survived, but it was only thanks to another Foolish King, Aegon, the Fifth of his Name, who conducted a Blood and Fire ritual at the Summerhall and died miserably in the flames.

However, the real nightmare started for Azaerys when he reached his present, saw himself lying on the bed next to the raven-haired girl, and then stepped into the Future. 

Tears streamed out of his eyes when he saw the fate of his Father, his mother, Elia, his grandfather, his grandmother, his beloved younger siblings, Viserys, and his aunt who had not even taken her first breath yet. He saw the future of his brother who would be born in a couple of moons, and he saw every horror imaginable to the living. 

There was nothing but darkness in the world, and the Long Night had returned.

Just when he started despairing, Azaerys realised that something was amiss. Where was he in the Future? 

Once he found the abnormality, he sensed something very sinister, and things became clear to him.

He was not seeing the future. He was seeing what someone evil believed would happen, all according to its plans.

It was the same sinister voice that possessed Brynden Rivers, the same voice that had made his grandfather crazy, and the same voice that had been filling the brains of his family with the false prophecies, all to realise its goals. 

Azaerys wanted to lock on it, trace it, but his consciousness ended up smashing against the Wall in the North that kept the evil from stepping into Westeros again, and then he saw the glimpses of the night that had seemed to last forever thousands of years ago.

He saw things that chilled his soul, saw beings at work that no Mortal could go up against, and saw the Blood losing its blessings. 

And then he travelled further back into the past when the First Men discovered Westeros. He saw how the beautiful creatures, the Magical Children of Forest, were forced to protect their Trees and land, and how they were seen as abominations by the First Men and were slaughtered. 

He saw how they were pushed into a corner, and how they were forced to unleash an Evil that now threatened to consume the entire world.

When the nightmare finally ended, or such he thought, he found himself flying in the sky, passing the King's Landing, travelling across the sea, and panic kicked in when he realised where he was headed. 

Azaerys tried to stop himself, but it resulted in him gaining in speed, and a blink later, he was in the Ruins of Valyria, surrounded by the Evil and the Blood Magic that threatened to rip his soul apart. 

He tried to get out of there, fearing his death, but his soul was being pulled by something, and before he could even make sense of what was happening, he crashed into a small silver stone, which was shining inside a wooden chest. 

"Uuhhhh!" 

As if hit by a galloping horse, his soul returned to his body and he shot up, gasping for breath. His entire body was covered in sweat, and his heart was painfully beating against his chest.

For the next several seconds, he kept seeing glimpses, and locations of certain things, and finally, he saw glimpses of what was about to happen at the Trident tomorrow. 

Tears streamed out of his eyes as his body went numb. His already pale face turned paler, and then he started sobbing in grief. 

A short while later, Azaerys sensed the warm embrace of the girl who had been sleeping by his side and finally heard her panicked calls. 

"Azer!" She called him by the nickname she had given him, and he finally formed some words. 

"Father is going to die, Ashara... Elia, Rhae, Egg... you..." His voice wavered, and when he opened his eyes and saw through the tears that blurred his vision, he found something warm resting in his lap.

A Dragon Egg, a shiny silver egg, the very same "stone" that he had seen inside and crashed into in his dream, and Azaerys' mind went blank at the sight of it.