Chapter Text
On the night of Valerys Targaryen's birth, the Gods flipped a coin.
They chanted. "Heads, it's a leader; tails, it's a dictator."
The island of Dragonstone's fastness was threatened by a raging summer storm. The storm was terrible, the worst storm to ever occur to humanity. It was almost like a punishment from the Gods for all the bloodshed that had occurred. Ever since the town reveled and burned each and every one of the members of the royal Belaerys family, led by Helaerys, a witch with the innate ability to tame dragons, and her dragon Tyraxes, the land of Dragonstone underwent an insane storm. She used her dragon to burn down the walls of Castle Belaerys, allowing the crowd to break into the castle and end the line of House Belaerys. Helaerys had been carrying her the entire time the rebellion was taking place, having entered the last week of her pregnancy when she became ruler of Dragonstone; she had no last name. Being raised by dragons her whole life, she saw no need for one, as dragons didn't need last names to know they belonged somewhere. Every dragon was a family member, no matter how big or small they were. If they were a part of another den before being taken in by the new den, they never cared about that, as their fire was their blood. However, as the day of her birth approached, she realized she would need a name to secure her reigning time in the books; thus, she chose a last name, a last name that represented her house's connection with dragons.
Thus, after she gave birth to a healthy baby girl, she rode onto Tyraxes and went outside. Looking down at her people, she held up the bundle that was her newborn. A girl with pearly white silky hair and eyes as purple as wine.
"Today marks the day I brought you, my heir! The storm born! The first dragon born into royalty! Valerys Targaryen! The first of her name! " She exclaimed, and the crowd roared with contentment.
On the night of Ronald Weasley's birth, Bill and Charlie had flipped a galleon.
They chanted, "Heads, it's a girl; tails, it's a boy."
"Logically, it's a boy." Percy jumped in, "The Weasley family hasn't had girls born into it for far too many generations. A coin won't change that. "
"Bore!" The twins exclaimed.
"Percy, one never knows." Bill said "Maybe the curse ends here. Maybe this baby will be a girl."
"A dragon will be born into the family before a girl does." Percy rolled his eyes.
The Weasley sons jumped out of fear at the sound of thunder and the bright light of lightning, because storms had fallen on them the previous week, causing rivers to overflow, mud slides to destroy streets and crops, trees to fall and some to burn.Tonight was the worst storm yet, having to have cast twenty spells to make sure the Burrow wasn't destroyed by the rain that caused everyone to evacuate the town.
"Why didn't we just go to St. Mungo's?" asked Percy, who despised having to stay locked in his house with all his brothers.
"Percy, we already told you-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know!" Percy interrupted, another loud clap of thunder and lightning breaking the air. "Mom can't flo, we can't afford the hospital bills, uncle Bilius's cabin has been destroyed by a fire, we would rather die than be with Muriel, blah blah blah."
Even if he knew why they didn't leave, he still hated having to stay locked up, like a dragon in the Gringotts vaults he read about. The loud sound of his father's footsteps made them all turn to the doorway that connected the kitchen to the living room. His blue eyes were filled with nothing but dazzling amazement and love as he stared at his sons.
"It's a boy!" He exclaimed.
"Told you so," Percy said, standing up, only to be thrown by the twins, who were rushing towards their fathers, excited to go up in ranks, from the youngest brothers to older brothers.
"Kids, don't run up the stairs!" As Arthur warned, the twins immediately grew slower.
As in tortoise level slower, even making their voices deeper to appear as if they were in slow motion. Arthur fondly sighed and shook his head, walking up to the twins and helping them up the stairs. On the night of one of the worst storms humanity had ever seen, Ron Weasley was born from the storm. He held the Targaryen people's souls in his eyes, a periwinkle shade, with hair as red as dragon fire.
The day Valerys Targaryen met the seer Kassandra was the day of her thirteenth birthday. His mother's dragon had laid three eggs; three dragons that would protect her during her reign. The eggs were still too young to hatch, needing two months to hatch into powerful and healthy dragons. The castle had been filled with gifts from the townspeople and people from overseas, who felt curious as the stories of the house that reigned with dragons traveled across the dark seas and reached other kingdoms. The seer, Kassandra, stood out amongst the crowd. Her hair was unlike any hair seen in Dragonstone, as it was the brightest red one could ever imagine. Her eyes were a blue that seemed out of this world. She strutted across the dance floor with confidence and poise, her hand linked to the hand of a boy who appeared to be Valerys's age; his hair resembled a den of golden snakes tangled together; and his eyes were a mystical red color that put the princess in a trance.The redheaded woman smirked with a knowing grin as she reached the thrones, only to be stopped by the guards, who formed an X-shaped barrier in front of her with their spears.
One of the guards said, "Announce yourself to the queen."
"What are your intentions with the royals?" The other guard asked.
"My name is Kassandra, the daughter of time; this is my apprentice, Bokamoso. l bring a gift to the princess" she said, motioning to the boy. She explained, looking at the girl "The gift of knowing her future." She added.
"Let her through" Valerys said, curiosity itching at the back of her head.
The guards stood back, breaking the X-shaped barrier and letting the seer walk towards the queen and princess, her dangling necklaces hitting against each other, creating melodies that broke through the instruments played by the musicians. The seer stopped in her tracks as she stood face to-face with the royals. Her apprentice alongside her.
"Happy birthday, your majesty." She bowed, her bright blue dress pooling around her legs, looking just like the water of a fountain.
Bokamoso imitated her, except he said no word, almost as if he had been mute. His dress robes were like his teacher's, except his was as red as blood.
"Thank you." The princess bowed her head.
"You're a seer?" His mother asked, looking at the woman in front of her with great interest.
"Indeed I am" Kassandra said, "I heard the story of the queen who led dragons on the battlefield and the princess with dragon blood swimming through her veins and decided to pay a visit." She smiled.
"What will you see?" Valerys asked.
Kassandra kneeled down in front of her, her blue eyes meeting hers.
"Whatever you want to see," She answered.
Valerys nodded her head, not needing to think about the question, as she had wondered about it since she could remember.
"How will my reign be?"
Kassandra nodded, closing her eyes for a second before opening them again, revealing her eyes were now shining.
"Your reign will be filled with nothing but loyalty and flourishes. You will be a king that will go down in history as Valerys, the Queen of the Free; your children will be a trinity, with abilities beyond yours." She said, her voice sounding deep and demeaning. Her face had been completely serious the whole time, until something seemed to shock her.
"What's wrong?" Her mother asked
"She will be born twice." Kassandra said, "After the Targaryens go extinct, their dragons will proceed, flying and living across the entire world. You will be reborn as a boy, a leader in a family of warriors; with dragon fire in his hair, but a Targaryen soul in his eyes. He will be like you, a storm born, the dragons that will accompany him will have the souls of your dragons, who will be linked to your soul until the end of times"
Valerys stared in amazement as the seer's eyes lost the light that emanated from them, her eyes slowly moving towards Bokamoso, who was also staring at her with great interest.
The day Ronald Weasley met the seer was the year he had turned thirteen. He had met her in the strangest-looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn’t look like a classroom at all, more like a cross between someone’s attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little poufs. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed, and the many lamps were draped with dark red scarves. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire that was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly sort of perfume as it heated a large copper kettle. The shelves running around the circular walls were crammed with dusty-looking feathers, stubs of candles, many packs of tattered playing cards, countless silvery crystal balls, and a huge array of teacups.
“Where is she?” Ron stated.
A voice came suddenly out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice.
“Welcome,” it said. “How nice to see you in the physical world at last.”
Ron's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect. Professor Trelawney moved into the firelight, and they saw that she was very thin; her large glasses magnified her eyes to several times their natural size, and she was draped in a gauzy spangled shawl. Innumerable chains and beads hung around her spindly neck, and her arms and hands were encrusted with bangles and rings.
"Sit, my children, sit,” she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into armchairs or sank onto poufs. Harry, Ron, and Hermione took seats at the same round table. "Welcome to Divination," said Professor Trelawney, who had taken a seat in front of the fire in a winged armchair. “My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending too often into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my Inner Eye.”
Nobody said anything about this extraordinary pronouncement. Professor Trelawney delicately rearranged her shawl and continued.
“So you have chosen to study divination, the most difficult of all magical arts. I must warn you at the outset that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you... Books can take you only so far in this field.
Both Harry and Ron glanced, grinning, at Hermione, who looked startled at the news that books wouldn’t be much help on this subject. Trelawney stood up, rearranging her shawl once again before walking around the classroom.
“Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future,” Professor Trelawney went on, her enormous, gleaming eyes moving from face to face. “It is a gift granted to a few." She abruptly stopped as she met Ron's eyes. "You're Ronald Weasley, aren't you?"
Ron looked at his two friends, his face a mixture of confusion and fear.
"Uhm, yeah." How did you-"
"I can recognize the hair anywhere, hair as red as dragon fire." She interrupted. She leaned in, her face on level with Ron's. The room grew more and more uncomfortable around them; Ron looked down, trying to flee the eyes of the teacher, but was forced to look at her once again when she grabbed his face with one hand and angled him to look at her in the eyes. "I see a fire in you." She began, her voice sounding strangely deeper "And in that fire, eyes looking back at me; brown eyes, grey eyes, blue eyes... Eyes you'll shut forever"
Ron heard a gasp coming from somewhere else in the room. He had no idea where, as he was too focused on the icy look on the professor's face. With a hum, Trelawney let go of his face, standing up once again.
“We will be covering the basic methods of divination this year. The first term will be devoted to reading the tea leaves. Next term we shall progress to palmistry... " She continued her lesson, only this time, Ron was too confused to even focus.
The day Valerys's dragons hatched, she wore a maroon dress made of silk, a gift that her mother gave her for the hatching ceremony.
"A dragon needs intense fire to hatch." She had told her as she looked at the three eggs she was holding, "There are two ways to hatch them." She began, laying the black and wine-coloured egg in one of the smaller circles formed with hay "The slow way, by leaving an egg in a source of constant normal fire, which can take up to months." She explained, laying the blue and gold egg on another circle, "And the fast way, or the dragon's way, which is using dragon fire to hatch them immediately." She laid the third egg, the orange and grey one. "Normally, dragons will use dragon fire to hatch the eggs. That's how Tyraxes was hatched. " She smiled, scratching the neck of Tyraxes.
"But... Aren't we harmed by dragon fire?" Valerys asked.
"Indeed," Helaerys said, looking at her daughter with a smile, "but when a dragon is hatched, or dragons in your case, the magic is so strong that it protects us from the dragon fire... If you were to be burned by dragon fire at any other time, you would burn. But that will not be the case today.
With a reassuring kiss in the temple, Helaerys walked backwards towards the staircase of the palace, the entire town also witnessing the hatching of the dragons on the side of the courtyard of the palace. Valerys took a deep breath, turning around to face the townspeople, whom she would one day rule over. The light of the dawn was shining bright in their faces. She sat down in the middle of the pyre, surrounded by her three dragon eggs.
"Today, I enter the fire as Valerys Targaryen" She called "Daughter of the dragon. But once I rise from it, I will be reborn! As the mother of dragons! Future Queen of Dragonstone! "
She turned her face to her mother, nodding as she stood alongside Tyraxes. With a deep breath, her mother called.
"Dracarys"
Large flames went darting up the wood like swift red mice, skating over the oil and leaping from bark to branch to leaf. A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover’s breath, but in seconds it had grown too hot to bear. The wood cracked, louder and louder. The flames whirled and writhed, racing each other up the platform. The dusk shimmered as the air itself seemed to liquefy from the heat. Valerys heard logs spit and crack.
She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood, brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down on her, and Valerys was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall, Valerys heard women shrieking and children crying out in wonder.
And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her, and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the townspeople raised in shouts of fear and terror, and her mother shouting for them to calm down.
"No," she shouted, "Do not fear for her. The fire is ours. She is Valerys Targaryen, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons. Don’t you see? "
With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Valerys stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.
The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.
When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Malaerys found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away... yet she was unhurt.
The blue-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast; the orange-and-grey was at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-wine beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Malaerys, it raised its head and looked at her with eyes as red as coals.
As Valerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time ever, the night came alive with the music of Targaryens and dragons.
The story of how Ron received his own eggs was more complicated than Valerys' was.