Dragons Fill the Skies

Rhaenyra looked around and found herself beneath the sept of Baelor, she recognized the crypts where long-dead Targaryen rulers were buried. "This is where they buried me?" she said. She rose to her feet on shaking legs. The sensation of breathing and air filling her lungs burned her internally, but she became accustomed to it the more she breathed.

With the seven dragon eggs inside of the woven bag, she slung the strap over her shoulder and found her way out of the crypt. There were lit torches lighting the way toward the stairs leading to the exit. Many of the tombs were missing including that of her father, her ant, and her children. She looked for those belonging to the now long-dead greens including Allicent and her children. To her surprise, she found no tomb bearing the names of members of the greens. She reached the base of the steps and ascended them looking at the light escaping through the spaces of the door.

Pressing her hand against the door, Rhaenyra stepped out into the main floor of the Sept of Baelor, but there was a problem the moment she took her first steps back into the living world. It was empty with only two other people there seemingly waiting for her in the center of the sept.

A young man no older than twenty was sitting on a chair of wheels. The man standing behind him was a hefty man wearing a Maesters clothing and chains, and by the look of it, he had all chains. Rhaenyra walked over and took a few steps forward.

"Maester Sam, find some clothing for Rhaenyra Targaryen, please. It is neither dignifying nor just to keep her naked and shaking."

"Yes, your gra--Wait, Rhaenyra Targaryen? Rhaenyra from--"

"Now Maester Sam, we will have all the time to ask questions later, right now"

"Yes your grace." Maester Sam ran off to fetch her some clothes.

"H--How do you know my name?" she asked, keeping her clutch of special dragon eggs in front of her to shield as much of her shame as possible.

"I know because I foresaw your resurrection a few years ago. I don't know how you came back to our world exactly; I only saw a woman in the shape of a dragon rising back out of her resting place. I thought it was Daenerys Targaryen, but she isn't buried in the Sept of Baelor is she."

"Who? How do you know who I am, your gr--my lor--what do I call you?"

The young man said nothing, instead choosing to stare Rhaenyra in the eyes.

Through her eyes she saw this young man's energy vibrating like snow was billowing from him and like the flapping of a bird's wings, she saw images of his birth, adolescent life and who he was, and the journey he took to be seated right where he presently was. She saw his crippling, his journey beyond the wall, his meeting with the three-eyed raven, the children of the forest, and his meeting with the Night King himself in the battle for Winterfell.

"You're Brandon Stark, King Bran the Broken," Rhaenyra said softly, "But how do I, wait a moment, it was--"

"THE STRANGER," They both said together after a long thoughtful pause.

"The Stranger brought you back didn't it, for what purpose I don't know, but you are back in the world of the living once again Princess. And it seems the stranger gave you the same sight to you as the three-eyed raven gave me."

"So, it seems...what happened to this place, this isn't the grand sept, is it?" she asked, looking around innocently like a lost child.

"No, it no longer is. It was the grand sept in your time, then it became the great sept of Baelor, one of your descendants and now it's just the small sept." Bran answered flatly, looking around at the simple architecture.

Rhaenyra remembered there being stone pillars with a giant round stone with hundreds of small wax candles burning. She and Allicent prayed here before and each candle burned for one of the many Valyrian divinities. Now only giant stone effigies of men and women she did not recognize, circled the interior of the small sept. The windows had glass and designs and details of crows and trees and creatures unknown to her etched on them. Small stone effigies representing the seven had their own small shrines on the outer edges of the interior of the small sept. Small candles long burned out were laid out before them, with the stranger having none for it.

Maester Sam returned with purple robes and black accents. Rhaenyra accepted them and donned them. Rhaenyra, now a little dignified, approached the small statue of The Stranger and lit a candle for it.

When she grabbed a spare white candle dedicated to one of the other seven, Sam and Bran watched in surprise as the wax turned black at her touch. Rhaenyra instinctively waved her hand over the top of the candle's wick, and a small flame ignited and burned gently.