The chamber was a peculiar intersection of time and space, where the threads of the past, present, and future wove together in a tapestry of destiny. Members of noble houses from different eras stood in silent communion, their eyes fixed upon the mystical screen that revealed the intricate dance of fate.

Robb Stark, clad in the regal attire of the North, watched with furrowed brows as his future unfolded.

"I led my people, fought for their freedom, yet the cost was unimaginable," Robb muttered, a mixture of pride and regret tainting his voice. He clenched his hands eyes turning red in anger as he remembered the treachery and the anguish his family and he went through.

They had awakened the wolf and now they were going to face the consequences of it…

His sister Sansa, no longer a naive little girl, but a woman of grace and resilience, clasped his fisted hands, her eyes cold as ice. "We endured the harshest winters, only to face the coldness of betrayal. Our choices shaped our fate but now they will face the fury of winter."

Arya, the warrior in the shadows, remained silent, her eyes reflecting a journey of faces changed and names forgotten. She kept her cold grey eyes on every person in the room, creating a new list, winter was coming for them, all of them.

Bran stat with his eyes closed, he could hear the screams and sorrows of the innocent who suffered this treacherous war and destruction.

In a corner, Ned and Catelyn Stark observed their children, the weight of duty and sacrifice etched into their spectral expressions. Catelyn with tears streaming down her eyes and forgetting every protocol clutched her youngest, Rickon to her chest and the lord Stark, Eddard Stark, watched with horror filled eyes, the annihilation of his family, people and land.

Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna, the time-displaced members of House Stark, stood in silent awe as the spectral visions unfolded before them. Rickard, with the weight of his responsibilities as a lord, witnessed his legacy. His stern expression softened with both pride and melancholy though the anguish of betrayal was ever present.

Brandon, the wild wolf, cast a sidelong glance at the shadows of his fiery past, contemplating the choices that led him to this juncture. A ghost of a smirk played on his lips, a mixture of regret and rebellion. Though his cold grey eyes kept on shifting to his sister, Lyanna and shown with emotions of Betrayal, Sadness and above all Anger.

Lyanna, the she-wolf, her eyes betraying the fiery spirit that defined her, observed the tapestry of events with eyes full of tears, as she gazed at the destruction her choice had brought.

Benjen, the lone wolf who had taken the black, watched with a sombre demeanor. His eyes, reflective of the North's icy resolve, betrayed a silent acknowledgment of the sacrifices made in the name of honor.

Torrhen Stark, Cregan, and the enigmatic figure known as the 'Dangerous Wolf,' Atlas Stark, sat side by side, their expressions a blend of curiosity, nostalgia, and a hint of sorrow.

Torrhen, the King Who Knelt, observed the events unfolding with a measured gaze. His decision to bend the knee weighed heavily on his soul, and as he witnessed the consequences rippling through time, a shadow of regret flickered in his eyes.

Cregan Stark, the Wolf of the North, bore the demeanor of a stoic warrior. His eyes, reminiscent of his ancestors, betrayed a mix of pride for his house's resilience and concern for the challenges that lay ahead.

For a second Cregan’s eyes drifted to his uncle Atlas Stark, there were many things he wanted to talk to him about but he kept silent, for now.

Atlas Stark, the Dangerous Wolf, leaned against the seat, his piercing eyes taking in every detail of the visions. A wry smile played on his lips, a reflection of the mysteries he had unravelled and the battles he had waged. The memories of his encounters with Daemon Targaryen, the long-forgotten duels and camaraderie, danced in the recesses of his mind.

For a moment, the Dangerous Wolf was lost in the memories of his exploration, the laughter shared with his nephew Cregan, and the thrill of duelling in distant lands. Above all his time in Lys with his beloved.

The mention of his name in the chronicles of Westeros brought a rare, genuine smile to his face. For a minute his eyes were clouded in extreme grief when he remembered that cursed night, the night he lost his precious treasure...

As the visions continued, Torrhen, Cregan, and Atlas exchanged glances, a silent acknowledgment passing between generations of Starks. The weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future hung in the air…

As the visions of the future played out before them, each Stark experienced a kaleidoscope of emotions, pride, regret, sorrow, and a flicker of curiosity about the uncharted territories of destiny that awaited them.

Tywin Lannister, the Lion of Casterly Rock, observed the unfolding future with a stern expression that betrayed no emotion. His steely gaze bore witness to the triumphs and tragedies that awaited House Lannister. The weight of legacy and power rested heavily on his shoulders, and as he surveyed the events to come, a flicker of concern crossed his eyes, a rare vulnerability that Tywin seldom revealed. He fisted his hands as he remembered, the monster, the mistake, his so - called son, his own blood murdering him, his father in cold blood. He threw a murderous glare to the nonchalant man, who was slowly sipping his wine.

He closed his eyes thinking about his incestuous twins and the atrocity they had done. All of his children had only brought him shame and his head was paining from the loud curses Robert Baratheon and Cersei were throwing at each other and the whining of his bastard grandson Joffery. For a second he thought about Joanna, his beloved Joanna, it’s a good thing she wasn’t alive to see this destruction.

Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent, felt tears of vengeance fill her eyes when she saw the dead bodies of her beloved brother and herself. She will kill them all, everyone will die. They took her children, her throne, her everything.

She glared at Robert with murderous hate and felt like throwing the wine jar at his face as she listened him rant about her and Jaime while she calmed down her dear Joffery.

Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, stood with a conflicted expression. His eyes, haunted by the ghosts of past decisions, traced the path that led him to infamy. The weight of regret etched lines on his face as witnessed the consequences of the oaths broken and loyalties tested. He kept his head down trying to escape the accusing, disgusted eyes of the people in the room.

Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, lounged comfortably in his chair, sipping wine as the visions of the future played out before him. He surveyed the scenes with a wry grin, his sharp wit undiminished. Unfazed by the gravity of the unfolding future, he raised an eyebrow at the chaos that awaited House Lannister. He did not regret killing his bastard of a father though seeing Jaime’s dead body did falter him, he kept his face blank, not giving away anything.

Daenys - The Dreamer, who was the saving cause of House Targaryen from the doom of Valyria stood with her eyes ablaze with a storm of visions. Her trembling hands betrayed the weight of the unseen horrors she had foretold. As the unsettling images unfolded, she struggled to maintain her composure, grappling with the undeniable truth that her dreams had painted. Never had she felt such rage within her, and for the first time in her whole life, she thought about what would have happened if she hadn't saved her family from the doom.

Shocking but true, after seeing this horrific demolition and the inaneness of her own descendants, she for the first time wished, she hadn't interfered, at least her house would have ended in glory but these imbeciles had ruined everything the House of The Dragon stood for...

Aegon the Conqueror, usually the stoic ruler, couldn't hide the turmoil within. With his head in his hands, he felt the echoes of his past choices reverberating through the future. He couldn't believe, didn't want to believe, his House, The Targaryen name had been ruined, finished. He felt as if he was finally succumbing to his family's madness.

The Legendary Queen Visenya, wielder of Dark Sister exuded a stern aura, her eyes surveying the room with calculated vigilance. Visenya's expression remained inscrutable, a mask of queenly composure but her hands trembled with anger as she saw the way her descendants had treated the women of The House of Dragon. Her hands instinctively reaching for the hilt of Dark Sister as she wished to impale these stupid men with it. How dare these morons tarnish her legacy, they abandoned their gods, The Fourteen, Lost their Dragons, Dragons, the reason for which they stood proud and tall. They teared apart their house with their own hands. Fucking Fools...

Rhaenys, the wild one, cracked a wry smile, her demeanor a mix of rigidness and hostility at the unfolding drama. She wasn't the one to use violence but these brainless idiots had made her want to bury them alive. Just how far has her house fallen...

Maegor – The Cruel was trembling in anger as he glared murderously at Viserys, Hightowers, Aerys, Rhaegar, Aegon/Jon, the Baratheons and the Lannisters. One swipe, one swipe is all that would take for him to finish these fuckers, bloody useless fools.

Aenys Targaryen was slumped in his seat with an expression of disbelief but soon his eyes darkened in rage, never had he felt such rage, his dragon blood was boiling.

Jaeherys, the wise and just king, sat with a heaviness in his heart. The visions of what unfolded before him weighed on his conscience. His once-proud gaze now held a shadow of regret, haunted by the decisions that had led to the complicated fate of his descendants.

Alysaane, the good and gentle queen, gasped in disbelief at the scenes playing out before her. Her shock mirrored the flickering candlelight, casting shadows on the certainty she had thought defined their dynasty. The revelation challenged her ideals and left her questioning the very foundations of their rule.

Aemon, the fiery son, clenched his fists in anger. The unfolding future painted a grim picture that clashed with the valiant ideals he had been raised to uphold. The flames of Targaryen wrath burned in his eyes when he saw, his beloved daughter was robbed of her birthright and pushed aside and the ruler these morons chose brought destruction to their great house.

Jocelyn, Aemon's wife and Baratheon by birth, shared his ire. Her Baratheon bloodline added fuel to the fire of her rage seeing the injustice done to her daughter. The storm within her mirrored the tempest outside, as if the gods themselves bore witness to her fury but her eyes burned into her descendants. The boisterous and useless Robert who was still cursing out loud, this fool had ruined everything for the wolf girl.

Baelon, the son caught in the maelstrom, sat in stunned disbelief. The images of his kin locked in conflict unsettled him. He exchanged glances with his sister-wife, Alyssa, they were both stunned to see the destruction their sons and grandchildren had brought.

Alyssa, sharing her brother's disbelief, felt the foundations of her world crumbling. The Targaryen unity, once taken for granted, now hung in the balance. Her breath caught as the implications of the vision settled like a storm-tossed sea within her.

Saera, the runaway princess, leaned back with a sardonic smile playing on her lips. The chaos unfolding seemed to amuse her, and yet, anger simmered beneath the surface. The secrets she held were nothing compared to the revelations now laid bare, and her eyes sparkled with a dangerous knowledge. Her eyes drifted to a figure sitting on the Stark side and her eye softened as a small smile graced her lips.

Viserys looked as good as dead, he seemed to be aged a few more years. The last he remembered was the fight between the children at Driftmark before he was brought here and he got the shocker of his life seeing the older version of his children and above all his ancestors, descendants and his dead ex-wife, his beloved Aemma, who looked at him as if she wished to drive a sword through his heart.

He closed his eyes remembering the future, what annihilation his choices had brought and now he couldn’t face anyone, he did not know how to…

Daemon Targaryen was gripping dark sister tightly while glaring at everyone in the room especially the hightower cunts and his descendants.

Rhaenyra sat with a cold face but her hand clutched her children to herself. Rhaenyra was trying to, trying very hard to not slip into the maddening rage that turned her into Rhaenyra – the cruel. Yes she regretted many things but the injustice and betrayal she faced, the rage she felt diminished every other feeling. Her family’s madness was calling her and she really wanted to give in to it…

Jace, Luke, and Joffery Valeryon kept looking from Harwin Strong to Laenor to Daemon and kept sharing looks of disbelief at the whole ordeal.

Aemma Arryn, Rhaenys, Colrys, Laenor, and Laena sat together with rage clear in their eyes. Laena clutched Baela and Rhaena to her while she glared at Daemon and the others.

Otto, Alicent, Criston, and Larys sat in a corner trying to be invisible while Aegon – the second, Aemon, Haelena, and Daeron, were all sporting various different expressions from anger, anguish, to regret and concern.

Aerys and Rhaegar and Viserys at silently in their seats with their heads down while for the first time the people of Westros saw Rhaella Targaryen raging like a true Dragon as she held her daughter Daenerys to her chest who had been sitting silently for a very long time but her eyes gave away her feelings, a storm was brewing in them and this time everyone was going to drown in it.

Jon Snow, or Aegon Targaryen, looked traumatised at everything he had seen till now.

Doran Martell sat with fisted hands, he turned towards his dead sister, his dear Elia, who sat with her head high, eyes shining with thirst for revenge, Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, the words of house Martell was seen clearly in her stance and the Prince of Dorne decided, it was time for the seven kingdoms to see the power of Dorne.

Oberyn Martell leaned back in his chair, twirling his wine glass, he slowly took a sip of his drink, his viper eyes on his trembling paramour Ellaria before shifting to his daughters, who refused to look at anyone and kept their heads down. His hands clenched when he remembered what they did to his brother and nephew.

He shared a look with Doran before keeping a hand on Elia’s shoulder and his eyes connected with those of Rhaegar Targaryen and a low chuckle left his lips and trust me, everyone who knew the red viper and his fury felt a shiver down their spine.

Robert Baratheon who was shushed into silence by his brothers Stannis and Renly was trying hard to drown into his wine to avoid the glaring eyes while the other two kept beating themselves for the choices they made in the future.

Olenna Tyrell was planning her next move, her old, experienced eyes stared at the Lannisters with a killing intent, Mace Tyrell and Alerie Tyrell and Willas Tyrell sat with horrified expressions. Garlan looked furious while Loras held Margaery’s hand as both siblings tried hard not to attack the Lannisters.

Jon Arryn was glaring at Lysa Arryn formerly Tully who held her bastard son Robbyn to her chest while Hoster Tully sat with his head in his hands and Edmure Tully sat looking traumatised.

Petyr Baelish and Varys sat with disturbed looks, especially Petyr who was on everyone’s ‘to kill’ list.

Everyone in the room were going through different emotions but soon it was like a damn burst and the real Chaos began when Maegor - The Cruel and Daemon Targaryen attacked Aerys, Rhaegar, and Aegon/Jon.

So it begins…