Twin Flames of the Doom
Chapter I – Before the Dream
POV: Aenarion (MC)
I was reborn in fire.
Not metaphorical fire. Real fire — the red-gold blaze of braziers burning perfumed resin in the halls of Old Valyria.
And I remembered everything.
Another life. Another world. A story of dragons and ash and betrayal. Of a silver-haired queen stabbed by the man she loved.
I also felt something else.
Power.
Three gifts burned within me like living stars:
Immortality — I could feel it in my bones. Time would break before I did.
Telekinesis — the air trembled when I focused; objects shifted with a thought.
Logia Fire — my body could dissolve into flame itself, untouchable, endless… and with no weakness to sea or salt.
And then—
Brother.
A voice inside my mind.
Clear. Feminine. Familiar.
You remember too… don't you?
I froze in my cradle.
Daenerys?
Silence. Then a breath of wonder.
Yes… but not as I was. We are twins now.
I turned my infant head toward the other cradle across the chamber. Silver hair. Violet eyes. A tiny fist clenched like a conqueror's.
Reborn two years before Daenys the Dreamer would foresee the Doom.
We were born into House Targaryen in the height of Valyrian power.
And we both knew what was coming.
The Doom.
POV: Daenerys
I remember snow.
I remember a knife.
I remember whispering, "Let it be fear."
And then darkness.
Now I awaken to heat and incense, to dragonlords speaking High Valyrian around me. My last memory is of Jon Snow holding me as I died.
And now he does not exist yet.
Instead, I have him.
Aenarion.
My twin.
We speak without sound, mind to mind.
He tells me of our powers. I test mine — my tiny fingers flare into harmless golden flame. I do not burn. I am fire.
Not just blood of the dragon.
I am the dragon.
We can stop it, I whisper to him in thought.
He answers calmly.
No. The Doom must happen. But we will survive it.
Old Valyria roars outside the window — dragons crossing the sky, fourteen flames blazing in the distance.
They think themselves eternal.
They are wrong.
But we are not.
Chapter II – The Empire of Ash
POV: Aenarion
Years pass like sparks on the wind.
We grow.
Dragons respond to us unnaturally well. Fire bends toward us. I can lift entire marble pillars with thought alone now. Daenerys melts stone for amusement.
No one understands.
They think we are prodigies.
We know better.
The priests speak of omens. The Fourteen Flames rumble more often. Earth tremors ripple through Valyria.
And then Daenys dreams.
POV: Daenerys
When Daenys the Dreamer screams in the night, I already know why.
The Doom is coming.
Fire from the earth. Sky splitting. Dragons falling like broken stars.
In my first life, I wanted to break chains.
In this life, I understand something deeper.
Power does not prevent catastrophe.
It only determines who survives it.
Our father listens to Daenys. House Targaryen prepares to leave for Dragonstone.
Other dragonlords mock them.
We do not.
It begins soon, my brother tells me quietly in our shared mind.
Let it burn, I reply.
This time, we will not die in the ashes.
Chapter III – The Doom of Valyria
POV: Aenarion
The world ends in a single heartbeat.
The Fourteen Flames erupt.
Mountains explode into the sky. Firestorms devour cities. The sea boils. Dragons scream as ash chokes the heavens.
Even from Dragonstone's decks, we see the horizon turn into a wall of fire.
Old Valyria — the greatest empire in the world — vanishes.
I step onto the prow of the ship.
Flames surge toward us, carried by wind and magic.
I lift my hand.
Telekinesis spreads like an invisible shield. Fire parts around us.
My body dissolves into pure inferno, roaring outward.
Daenerys joins me.
Twin comets of living flame.
The sea tries to swallow burning debris — but salt has no dominion over us.
The Doom cannot claim what is already fire.
POV: Daenerys
I watch my birthplace die.
And I feel nothing.
No fear. No grief.
Only certainty.
This is necessary.
The Freehold was a chain around the world's throat.
From its ashes, something new will rise.
My brother's flames blaze gold.
Mine burn white-hot.
Together we carve a path through destruction so House Targaryen's ships reach Dragonstone safely.
None aboard understand what we truly are.
That is good.
Let them think it luck.
The last screams of Valyria fade into silence.
And the world changes forever.
Chapter IV – The Long Vigil
POV: Aenarion
Dragonstone becomes our new home.
A lonely fortress in a cold sea.
The surviving Targaryens mourn what was lost.
We do not.
We walk the volcanic shores at night, speaking silently.
The Long Night will come one day, I tell her.
White Walkers. Ice against fire.
She smiles faintly.
Then let them come.
We are immortal.
Time bends around us like smoke.
We could rule now.
We could conquer Essos before Aegon is even born.
But power without timing is wasteful.
The world is not ready.
And so we decide something that no Targaryen would ever imagine.
We will sleep.
POV: Daenerys
Prophecy is a river.
Sometimes you do not fight it.
You become part of it.
I dream of a distant future — of a young dragonlord named Aegon I Targaryen. Of conquest. Of Westeros united under flame.
I dream further still.
Of winter without end.
Of darkness that devours the sun.
That is when we will return.
Not to conquer.
But to end what cannot be killed by mortal men.
Are you certain? I ask my twin softly.
Yes.
For the first time since my rebirth, I feel peace.
No throne.
No betrayal.
Just patience.
Chapter V – The Sleeping Flame
POV: Aenarion
Beneath Dragonstone's volcanic heart, we carve a chamber of black glass and fire.
No one knows.
Not our family.
Not the maesters.
Not the dragons.
I weave telekinetic sigils into the stone. Daenerys binds it with living flame.
A seal tied to blood and prophecy.
We stand together before the molten glow.
We wake when they need us most, I say.
When ice threatens fire, she finishes.
Immortality means nothing if spent foolishly.
We lie upon twin stone slabs.
Flames curl around our bodies, cocooning us without heat.
POV: Daenerys
I close my eyes.
This time, I do not die.
I choose to sleep.
In the distance, I feel time moving.
Generations rising and falling.
Targaryens conquering.
Targaryens falling.
Dragons dying.
Winter growing.
And far in the future…
A boy named Jon Snow.
When the last dragon roars and the dead walk again—
We will awaken.
Twin flames.
Not to rule.
But to burn the darkness itself.
The chamber seals.
Dragonstone sleeps.
And beneath it, so do we.
Waiting.