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Not a warm welcome

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Whatever Rhaegar had expected when entering the afterlife into what first looked like Dragonstone, being nearly beheaded by a sword that could possibly be a ghostly version was not one of the welcomes. A fist in his face, then followed by a powerful kick in his groin, sending him kneeling in pain. 


And the tall woman with classical Valyrian features, clad in ringmail and with her long hair bound up in braids…


“Did you really think, that my dear sister would feel honored by having a bastard carrying her name instead of a legal daughter?!” 


Visenya Targaryen, and the woman behind her could only be Rhaenys. 


“The dragon must have three heads….” Rhaegar whispered, but found that it was a mistake to just open his mouth, since Rhaenys looked like she was about to transform into a dragon in her fury. 


You betrayed a loyal wife who almost died to give you the two children you have by her! Do you really think that she would be fine with you openly disgracing her in front of all the Lords like that?! 


Rhaegar suddenly was in a hurry to escape, for the two sisters was working well together to chase him. 


As the two female parts of the founding trio of the Targaryen dynasty chased Rhaegar around, a male voice called: 


“Betha! Myriah! Your unappreciative descendant have showed up!” 


Two other women then revealed themselves, and Rhaegar paled in horror as he recalled who they was from the family portraits. The black haired lady, with a Riverlands  accent, was his own great-grandmother Betha Blackwood, the wife of Aegon V Targaryen. 


“I knew that my Aegon should have separated Jaehaerys from Shaera the moment we found out about their secret marriage and made her drink Moon tea to ensure that she would never have become pregnant with your parents, then marrying them both off to their original Tyrell and Tully matches with strict orders to never let them be alone together again! You are a disgrace to what Aegon hoped to end the old family traditions for!”  


Betha was not late in proving why Aegon V had fallen in love with her. She was not a tomboy and had never stricken any of her family members, but she was not afraid of using her fists to show her anger on others. By hitting Rhaegar in the chest where Robert Baratheon's warhammer had struck him, the former crown prince fell backwards. 


And landed on his back, looking up in a face that showed some distant family traits with the present Martell generation. Myriah Martell, the wife of Daeron II Targaryen. 


“You are not worthy of a being a husband to a Martell princess, not when you act more like my father-in-law and dishonor your wedded wife by taking a mistress to sire bastards on!”


And then Rhaegar found himself stamped on the wound in his chest again, for Myriah was not afraid of using her greater body weight for increase his pain. Then all four of the offerended Queen consorts trapped Rhaegar under them for a joined beating up, all while he screamed in horror for their wrathful faces for any help that would not come to his rescue. 


Aegon the Conqueror could hear the terrified screams in the distance, but knew better than trying to stop his sister-wives when they were offended in some way. And really, he could not blame them, Visenya was one of a kind and her name was too special to be given to a bastard daughter. 

“No, Maegor. Wait for your turn or at least your mother allowing you to keep beating that idiotic descendant of mine up,” he requested to his second son, who looked like he really wanted to join Visenya on “ disciplining ” Rhaegar. 


At the other end of the chamber, Daeron II pretended to be buried in a book during the wait for his dear Myriah to come back, for he had been greatly shocked by how Rhaegar had treated his Dornish princess. After all, Myriah had once faced difficult trials for being his wife and people whispering that he was not the rightful King of Westeros, so surely that must mean that his four sons by her could not inherit the throne?  


Aegon V was once again off somewhere with Duncan the Tall, but there was no doubt that he would be cheering on his Blackwood wife for showing their great-grandson just how he had messed up by running off with Lyanna Stark, all because Elia Martell could not have a third child. 


“Get him, Betha! Mash his pretty face into minced meat!” 


“Egg! Are you telling her to almost slaughter him with a shield like I did with your brother in that trial of seven?! Ah, nice clout on the ear you gave him there, lady Betha!” 


The former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard sounded like he was trying to prevent his former squire to join his wife, in a manner that likely had happened a lot when they had travelled the Seven Kingdoms together.