Chapter Text
Death was strange.
That was the first thought that drifted through Clara's mind as everything went black. She didn't even feel any pain, a silent scream barely able to leave her lungs before her life came to an end.
She hadn't seen it coming, too lost in her own mind to notice the truck lose control of its brakes. She hadn't even heard the blaring horn or the desperate shouts and screams from the people around her as she'd started crossing the road.
Her music had been too loud, her thoughts too scattered.
Maybe one day she would laugh at how utterly preventable her death had been, but for now she would content herself with releasing her regrets in the only way she felt she could.
Crying.
How she could cry after dying, Clara didn't know. But the tears came anyway, and she clung to the feeling of them as tightly as she could.
Darkness surrounded her, and she could barely move, feeling like she was trapped in the confines of her own mind. The idea that she might actually be in a coma flitted through momentarily before she immediately batted it away.
She was definitely dead, her life snatched away before she'd even allowed herself to live it.
No friends.
No boyfriend.
No life.
Work was all she had ever known, from her childhood all the way into adulthood. Her parents had started their business months before they found out they were expecting her, and they'd refused to let anything, not even a child, slow them down.
After she was born, she was handed off to anyone willing to babysit until they could afford a full-time nanny. Their hard work eventually paid off, providing more than enough for everything a child might need.
Everything except their time and their love.
Clara grew up in a large, empty house, surrounded only by the few people paid to raise her while her actual parents travelled the world expanding their company, only returning every few months for mere days before leaving again.
The emptiness had followed her into her adulthood, even after she moved far away. She’d thrown herself into her Uni work and eventually her job. She didn't have time for friends or love, denying every invitation her coworkers sent her way until they finally stopped asking.
And now…
Now she was dead, her hard work leading to nothing but regret.
So yes, death was strange. Stranger than she had ever thought it would be.
It grew stranger still as what felt like hours passed, the oppressive silence around her slowly fading as the invisible walls that kept her from moving grew tighter, as if she were being pushed through something far too small for her body.
The sensation was one of the most uncomfortable things she had ever experienced.
That's when her hearing seemed to begin working again.
It was small noises at first, muffled voices becoming clearer with each second she was pushed through the small tube she seemed to be trapped in, as though people were waiting for her on the other side.
Maybe she was in a coma.
Deep inside her mind, she let herself wonder if her parents would be there when she woke up. Would they have even heard about her accident yet, halfway across the world?
Would they even care?
She tried not to let herself think too hard about the answer to that question.
Something touched the top of her head, the sudden sensation making her jerk in surprise, legs kicking instinctively against her confinement. That was when she heard the screaming, the sudden noise growing louder after her sharp movements.
The sound, though still slightly muffled, was louder than any noise had been so far, and it was quickly joined by what could only have been a male voice, shouting over the screams. His words sounded jumbled, as though he was speaking a language that almost resembled English but not quite.
It made her panic, the idea of being in a coma now firmly in place as frantic thoughts and worries flew back and forth in her mind, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
What if the accident had done permanent damage to her brain?
What if she were never able to walk or do anything for herself again?
Would she be able to talk? To see?
Her last question was answered all of a sudden, her confinement tightening one last time before she was finally pushed out in what could only be described as a slick waterslide, cold air hitting her like a shockwave as bright light blinded her.
A pained cry escaped her lips at the unexpected change in environment, the noise making her jump as hands started grabbing at her, wrapping her in some kind of material that both scratched and soothed her skin all at once.
It had sounded like a baby cry.
She tried again, a desperate scream leaving her lips as her body was wiped down by whoever was holding her.
Another baby cry.
And another.
And another.
Eventually, she couldn't stop, the fear and confusion taking over her mind before logic could even get a chance to step in.
The screaming hurt her lungs, the movements exhausting every part of her body until she genuinely couldn't continue any longer, the cries slowly switching over to whimpers as she desperately tried to understand what was happening.
Gentler arms encircled her now, the soft touch making her slowly blink open her eyes once again, the light not so offensive now. A woman's face was what greeted her, the features startlingly familiar in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.
She looked exhausted, her face pale and sweaty, silver hair plastered to her damp forehead. Her breathing was weak, but an adoring smile slowly pulled at her lips as she reached up to stroke a shaking finger down Clara's cheek.
The sight dumbfounded Clara, her mouth falling open ever so slightly as she stared back into the woman's startling purple eyes.
She almost looked like a woman who had just given birth.
The thought slammed into Clara's mind like a freight train as everything clicked into place, a small gasp falling from her lips as her renowned intelligence finally decided to kick in.
Her death. The darkness. The tight walls that had surrounded her. The muffled screaming.
The baby cries that filled the room in time with her own.
Either she was in some extremely fucked up dream or…
She had just been reborn.
The sudden realisation didn’t fill her with panic like she thought it might have done, an odd calm taking over her mind as she continued to stare back at the woman who had just given birth to her.
Her mother.
Indignation pushed back at the sudden calmness, her face screwing up at the thought. Clara didn’t want to be reborn! She didn’t want to relive a life or have a new family. She certainly did not want a new mother.
Nearly twenty-seven years she had survived without one, she didn’t want to suddenly be forced into dealing with a new one. One who might not be like her last and leave her to her own devices at all times.
The regrets that had piled in at the sudden time of her death were now nowhere to be seen as she realised that the independence she had relished in once upon a time was now gone.
Who cared if she had no friends or no love life?
Her life had been perfect. Sure, she had maybe worked a bit too much and never left her house… but she had freedom! She liked watching TV for hours on a Friday night, not taking herself to bed until the next day had already begun. She liked ordering take-away every day for dinner without someone moaning in her ear that it was too expensive or too unhealthy.
She liked being able to move her own head without someone having to support it at all times!
If she were a child again, all of these menial things that came with freedom would be taken away. The very thought of having to spend another 18 years going through another round of growing pains and hormones made her face screw up even further, another scream readying itself in her lungs, when a foreign voice caught her off guard.
“Maester, tell me! Is my heir finally here?” The man's voice was jovial, clearly overjoyed at the arrival of a baby as he practically threw himself into the room.
Clara could just about see him in her peripheral vision, unable to turn her head in her freshly newborn body, the first thing she noticed being the bright silver hair that almost matched the woman holding her exactly.
The woman who now seemed to want to fall into a hole and never come out. Her mouth was pulled into a worried frown, eyes looking everywhere except the man who had just walked in, her arms gently pulled the babe in her hold even closer.
“It is another healthy girl, your grace,” Another voice answered his question from out of Clara’s eyesight.
Silence followed, no one in the room speaking, waiting for the reaction they clearly all dreaded.
Clara scoffed internally, a gentle sigh making its way out of her exhausted lungs as realisation clicked into place. Her new ‘father’ wanted her to be a boy, of all the things to be worried about after the birth of a new baby.
It was slowly becoming clear to her as time dragged on that this was not the world she was used to. The walls around her were made out of stone, not dissimilar to the keeps and castles she had once visited on school trips, and the doctor who had aided in her delivery had been called a maester.
Add on that the man she was supposed to know as her new dad had been addressed as ‘Your Grace’, and Clara knew that she was now very far from the place that she had once called home.
“That is excellent news - a healthy babe at last, Aemma!” The silence was shattered with the man's sudden proclamation as he continued his previous path towards the bed his wife lay in. His previous happiness was obviously dimmed but not completely gone, a smile visible on his face when he finally stopped to see his daughter.
If Clara could have moved her new body of her own will, she might have jumped right out of the arms that held her and straight onto the floor the moment her eyes landed on the face of her father.
She knew this man. She had seen his face more times than she could ever hope to count.
Viserys Targaryen.
King Viserys Targaryen.
This had to be a dream. It couldn’t be anything but.
She was in a coma, and her mind was now creating screwed-up realities to punish her for not checking before crossing a fucking main road.
Mind running at 100 miles a second, she barely even noticed that she had been taken out of her mother’s arms and into her father's, his fingers gently stroking the soft tufts of hair that covered her head. The silence in the room as he gazed down at her was more to her liking, desperately trying to process the fact that if this wasn’t a dream and her father was a king, then that meant she was a-
“We shall name her Daenys,” Viserys announced proudly, completely unaware of the life-changing turmoil that was currently swirling through his daughter's mind, cooing softly as she automatically gripped tightly onto one of his fingers.
Aemma, who had been softly watching her husband interact with their newborn, jerked slightly at his words.“Daenys?” She questioned feebly, head lifting from her pillows with a frown, “Viserys, I’m not sure-”
“Daenys was the woman who saved our family once, Aemma.” His cheerful voice cut off her worries, never once looking away from his daughter’s face, “Another girl has been born healthy after so many years of trying; she has saved our hope for a healthy boy in the future! How could we name her anything but Daenys? Our little saviour.”
Clara glared up at him, not even caring about whatever ridiculous Targaryen name he wanted to give her. She had never been able to stand men who talked over women, especially their wives, when they were talking. It told her more about the type of person they were than they’d ever realise.
With the help of her midwives, Aemma adjusted herself into a more upright position, wincing slightly at the movements, “I just don’t want her to suffer from having such a legacy pressing down on her, Viserys. Being named after Daenys the Dreamer is a big decision.”
Her worries were brushed off without care, her husband adjusting his hold to stroke her cheek lovingly, “She shall make her own legacy, my love. One that rivals even the Dreamer herself.”
Aemma’s mouth pulled down even further, but she didn’t say anything else, no matter how hard Clara mentally shouted for her to do so.
Viserys, taking his wife’s silence as agreement, turned to the man who was now standing near the door, addressing him loudly, “Maester Mellos, please let it be known that Queen Aemma’s labours have been successful and we have been blessed with another daughter! Princess Daenys Targaryen, the realm's jewel!”
Clara closed her eyes, blocking out everything and everyone else around her in a desperate attempt to find her happy place and ignore the fact that this was most definitely not a dream.
She was a princess.
A Targaryen princess.
A loud wail left her mouth as she finally allowed herself to cry once more, panicking the King as he rushed to hand her back over to his wife.
She was so fucked.