Today's disclaimer was fed to Ghost and Caraxes to keep them happy, so sorry.

Visenya:

So far they had stayed for near a week in the Water Gardens, getting to know Prince Doran and his household. It had gone a long way, Visenya had to admit to help her get over her distrust of the Dornish, as, her father Rhaegar's stupid actions aside, the Dornish had apparently been heavily invested in the Targaryens since the double marriage that brought them into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms, bringing Dorne greater security and trade alike.

So far Visenya had gotten to know Oberyn's two eldest daughters Obara and Nymeria quite well, easily dispensing of any notions of her being a 'simpering princess' as Obara had called her once. She had taken them both on in the sword ring, and although both girls had promise they were far from her own calibre, and she'd not needed more than five minutes to send them both slinking away to lick their wounds, figuratively of course, and though not the sort of company she preferred to keep, they were both too lustful and treated most anything like a jape, they were… decent company, a change from Ser Arthur at any case who could be grating to her temper at times.

Of course, Oberyn was hardly the sort of company she would prefer to keep either, not taking anything serious, apart from the safety of his family and of course his vengeance, but the man was pretty, and far too skilled a lover to just let go until she actually took a husband, that and it was a guilty pleasure of Visenya to see Arthur glare daggers at the Dornish Prince whenever she had to gingerly take a seat after a long night of sex, furthermore, the man was a virtual god with a spear in hand, the five bouts they'd had so far leaving him as the victor four out of five times, and Visenya could appreciate having such talent at her disposal, having a good spearman at her beck and call for some variety in her fighting didn't hurt either.

It was only now, a week later that she had been introduced to Oberyn's four youngest children, his third oldest Tyene, his lover Ellaria and of course Prince Doran's daughter Princess Arianne. The young ones were… decent, as far as children went, and his daughter Elia, who was but two years younger than Visenya was actually the one she preferred the most, sharing Visenya's passion for riding, and actually impressing her with her skill with a lance at such a young age.

Tyene and Arianne were a bit less interesting, in that they were far more like Rhaenys. Lustful, and hardly what one could call martial. Oh sure, Tyene apparently had some skill with a dagger, even if the fair woman preferred poison, and Arianne was beautiful enough to even tempt Visenya into considering taking her to bed. Not that she had any plans for it though. While Visenya had taken the occasional woman into bed during Aegon's absence from her bed, she was hardly interested in women, and while having a skilled tongue between her legs was all well and good, it couldn't replace a good hard cock on a man who knew how to use it, and unlike Rhaenys, Visenya hadn't strayed from her husband, so until she was wed, she might as well continue to use Oberyn to sate her needs, and if the 'sacrifice' was that she would have to endure Ellaria's ministrations as well, then it was a sacrifice she was willing to endure, the older woman was far from uncomely after all.

"Anyone else we are missing Prince Doran?" she asked from where she was seated at the head of the table in one of the meeting rooms in the Water Gardens, the others included in the small 'council' they were having were Doran, Oberyn, Arianne, Ser Arthur and lastly Prince Doran's guard Areo, a bearded priest of Norvos.

"No Your Grace, I felt it best if it were just us for the nonce," Doran said, "now, it is time to discuss how to best go forward."

Visenya nodded slightly, while she would prefer not putting all her cards on the table, she knew she wasn't in a position to be secretive towards her strongest and for the nonce only confirmed ally. "Very well, perhaps an accounting of strength first, and then we can move onto potential assets."

"I'll start then shall I?" Doran asked. "Dorne can muster ten thousand spears, two thousand of them mounted, in addition we have, perhaps five hundred to a thousand Knights to call upon."

"Any ships?" Ser Arthur asked, he had been removed from Dorne for far too long to know much about its current military strength, even with his spies.

"No," Oberyn shook his head. "The various Lords of Dorne can, perhaps muster thirty ships or so of any use in a military venture, with ten times that amount in total of merchant vessels in all, most of which are scattered to the fourteen seas at any given time."

Ser Arthur nodded, Dorne's navel might in other words was much the same it had been since Nymeria burned her ten thousand ships. "Then it is us I belive," Visenya said. "We have a dragon obviously, still not large enough to ride, but Caraxes is clever enough to be useful in any naval engagement, and swift and nimble enough to be safe from just about anything save a lucky shot," she paused for a breather while drumming her hands idly on the table.

"I would like to say that I have the North and Riverlands but I dare not. I know that my uncle will not marshal his forces against me, not unless I should prove myself as mad as my grandfather, but I dare not count on his support either. The Rebellion did however see many of the Riverlords loyal to my House, and while no sure thing until I can actually speak with them or declare my claim we can safely assume that there will be token support at the very least in the Riverlands."

"Not much to go on," Doran countered.

"Indeed not My Prince," Visenya agreed. "I will however have the support of the Narrow Sea, and almost certainly the Crownlands, at least the parts on the north side of the Blackwater."

"You've spoken with them?" Doran asked sharply.

"No, not as of yet. I intend to sail to Driftmark on the next available ship once we are done here. Lord Monford is my kin and holds enough sway over the Lords of the Narrow Sea that I need not even speak with them in person to get them to my side."

"How certain are you?" Oberyn asked.

This time Ser Arthur stepped forward. "While words with my brothers across the sea has been sparse indeed, due to the risk involved, there was a moment where we considered taking an offer from Lord Monford that was backed by every other of the Narrow Sea Lords."

Doran's eyes narrowed slightly, this was news to him. "What offer?"

"The offer to capture Dragonstone and return it to Viserys, they would then declare the isles of the Narrow Sea as an independent nation, restyle it as West Valyria if I remember correctly."

"A foolish venture, and doomed to fail," Doran interjected, though Oberyn looked to actually be considering such an idea.

"In the long run aye," But with Dragonstone, Stannis and his family in possession they would've lasted quite some time I think. In the end the idea was rejected, had not the Royal Fleet been sunk during the summer storm perhaps it could have been done, but it is only now that the Royal Fleet is what it once was."

Yes..." Doran said, more to himself than everyone else. "And if they were willing to do this when their fleets were far from at full strength they should be more willing to support us now, especially with Dorne in the fold as well." Doran studied the map in front of him. "And you are certain that you can capture Dragonstone?"

"I have it on good authority that I can easily get half the garrison to my side the moment I make my landing with the Dragon Banner flying at my back," Visenya said.

"And if it is a lie?" Arianne said, speaking up for the first time.

"It is for that very possibility that I will be bringing with me men of unquestioned loyalty to my House."

"Clawmen?" Doran guessed.

Visenya nodded. "After I've spoken with Lord Monford, I'll sail for the point. Once there I'll meet with the Clawmen and win them to my side," she turned and pointed to Arthur, "Ser Arthur meanwhile will travel to Rosby, Duskendale and Stokeworth with a letter from me, and try to convince them," she took a moment to take a bite out of one of the juicy plums from the bowl on the table.

"When the time comes I will land on Dragonstone with Clawmen and Velaryon men. Lord Monford will raise my banner and lead the siege from the outside, while I will take the Clawmen through underground passages and assault the castle from within as well as open the gates, assuming the garrison doesn't turn on Stannis the moment I make my landing."

"Hidden passages," Arianne questioned with a raised eyebrow.

Visenya gave a cold smile at the Dornish beauty. "Where do you think my namesake and her son got the idea for the hidden passages in the Red Keep from?"

Arianne let out a brief laugh. "How do you know of them though Your Grace?" she asked curiously.

"I know," Visenya said sharply in a tone that brooked no argument, "That ought be enough for all here I should say," they all acquiesced swiftly, none of them willing to meet her eyes at the moment.

"Then we know where we stand," Doran said, "now we needs discuss how to gather more support," he looked at Visenya, "The best ways to seal an alliance is through marriage."

"Well there goes the Reach," Oberyn grumbled.

"Explain," Ser Arthur said.

"Mace and Olenna both desire Margaery to be Queen, she was raised in hopes that she would be taken as Joffrey's Queen, offering Arianne to Willas would not work, not if Margery is offered the Crown Prince as a husband."

"Which we know she will the moment that conflict break out," Doran said tiredly.

"Aye, and Joffrey is not said to wed my cousin Sansa for another three years at the very least, and a betrothal is easy enough to break if it brings the Reach with it, so if Arianne was to wed Willas all we'd be doing would be to grant them a hostage," Visenya said, "Nor can I allow my heir to be half Tyrell either."

There were more than one muttered agreement at that statement. "Perhaps Edmure Tully," Arianne questioned, "He is said to be a handsome man, and unwed, and only a few years my elder."

Visenya was the first one to disagree, probably surprising her father and uncle. "Wedding you to Edmure would give us Riverrun and their closest friends, but the Riverlands are just too fragmented as the Rebellion, and every single war in the years past have shown, furthermore, their only natural defenses are their Rivers, and there are enough fords and bridges in the Riverlands that, combanied with its fair wind Lords make it into the worst strategical place in the Seven Kingdoms."

"Aye," Doran said, his voice impressed at Senya's council, though how was Doran to know how old Senya truly was. "In any war the Seven Kingdoms has seen the Riverlands has always been its playground, with the Rivermen dying in far larger numbers than any others."

"What then?" Arianne asked. "I cannot wed Edmure Tully, nor Willas Tyrell, and Robert Arryn is far to young, who am I to wed?"

Visenya would've been touched, truly, if she didn't know that the reason Arianne was so adamant to be wed was simply because the woman wanted a husband to call her own, and children. "Our best option would be to marry both of us to the eldest son or a grandson of one of the Volantene Triarchs, with Quentyn taking a daughter for wife, but I would not wed one of those arrogant descendants of common footsoldiers to save my life, and even with you wedding one, and Quentyn wedding another, the last Triarch would've been so offended at being left out that he would no doubt do everything in his power to prevent the other two from going to war," Visenya studied Arianne for a moment. "Your best option, should you wish for your wedding to bring in outside offers would be to wed a son or nephew of the Archon of Tyrosh, which in and of itself will bring its own problems."

"What do you mean?" Arianne asked, Oberyn and Doran watched in silent interest.

"Since the fall of the Three Daughters, Myr, Lys and Tyrosh have been in almost constant war with each other, the moment one of them starts gaining a seizable advantage, the other two join forces for however long is necessary to bring the last one down to their level. Should you wed a Tyroshi of the Archon's family, the chances are that we will be drawn into a war with the other two, or even worse, Myr and Lys will side with our enemies." Visenya sighed. "In this case I would suggest you prevail on your father to either allow you to wed a man of your own choosing, or to at least find you a husband who will not mind to move to Dorne and take your name as consort."

Doran shuffled slightly. "There were...deals made," he admitted. "Before we knew of you, a marriage pact was signed between House Martell and Targaryen, Arianne for Viserys and Quentyn for Daenerys."

Fire burned behind Visenya's narrowed eyes as she turned her gaze directly upon Doran. "And with whom did you sign this pact Prince Doran?" she asked.

"Ser Willem Darry," Doran admitted with a slight gulp, no doubt seeing the fury on Visenya's face.

"Ser Willem Darry," Visenya deadpanned. "At the very least you should've negotiated with Lord Commander Higtower, at any rate, from what little rumours have reached me, my uncle is not someone you would wish upon your only daughter, and thanks to that… fool my aunt is wed to some dothraki savage, better lay to rest any dreams of marriage to House Targaryen, at least for this generation."

"I had hoped..." Doran paused, looking between Visenya and his brother, causing bot Visenya and Oberyn to start laughing.

"My dear Prince," Visenya said with a rare chuckle. "While your brother is a wonderful lover," she shot a sultry wink at Oberyn, "and knows how to handle a spear, I as the future Queen could not possibly marry a man with eight bastard daughters, or a know proclivity to bring men into his bed."

"Yes you are right," Doran conceded, "perhaps Quentyn..." he truly was eager to have his blood tied to Visenya, but in this case it was Oberyn who shot him down.

"I have enough trouble handling her myself," Oberyn admitted with a salacious grin that made Arthur actually growl and unsheathe Dawn a few inches from its holster. "SO listen to me when I say that our Queen will eat him alive," he finished, laughing when he saw the satisfied smirk on Visenya's face.

"I'll see if arrangements cannot be made for a most highborn beauty for Quentyn to take to wife at a later date," Visenya said, "but for the nonce it is better to keep all options open, Arianne will be the next ruler of Dorne anyhow, so better to try and find her a husband first."

"Very well," Doran conceded. "So how do you intend to deal with the other Kingdoms?" he asked.

"Our biggest challenge is the Reach," Visenya admitted. "They bring more men and more food than any other two or even three Kingdoms combined. Fortunately the Tyrells hold on the Reach is and always has been tenuous, so while we'll struggle to bring the entire Reach to our side, we can try and force the Reach out of the war by sowing conflict within them. Some are still loyal to my family, others will be hesitant to do anything so long as they run risk of Dornish spears appearing at their back, while others will want to depose the Tyrells. Post a few thousand men in Skyreach under command of the Fowlers, and you'll see most of the southern Reachlords hesitant to offer more than a pittance to a Tyrell army, at the same time I will send a declaration to all the Lords on the Realm, asking for their loyalty, hopefully enough men Lords will be swayed to reduce the Tyrell strength."

"All good plans," Doran admitted, "And the Stormlords, Westerlands, and the other Kingdoms?"

Visenya grimaced. "It all depends on the North and Riverlands. If they support me I can afford to wage a more aggressive war, lure Tywin into the Riverlands and block him at Harrenhal, Lord Harroway's Town and Maidenpool in the east, and the Northern forces in the North. If I can do this, Tywin will either have to march through the Reach, or be blocked from King's Landing."

"And the Stormlords?" Oberyn asked.

"What Donrish strength not posted in the Prince's Pass will be stationed in the boneway, well positioned to make fast raids in and out of the southern regions of the Stormlands, not enough to take control, but enough of a nuisance to ever keep them from marshalling their full strength."

"I assume you intend to take the Crownlanders and Narrow Sea Lords with you to block Tywin in the Riverlands?" Doran questioned.

"Yes," Visenya replied. "At the same time, my fleet will cut off the Blackwater. If Rosby, Stokeworth and Duskendale join me that is the best, otherwise I shall have to storm their castles first to make sure that no food arrives to King's Landing."

Doran furrowed his brows. "taking any of those castles will be a chore, costly in time and men."

Visenya smirked. "Not necessarily, I've yet to see the castle gate that can withstand dragonfire, and in the dark of the night their gate will already be aflame before they stand the chance to try and bring down Caraxes."

"You intend to starve the capitol then?" Arianne interceded.

"In the beginning yes, with no supplies from Rosby, Stokeworth or the Blackwater, they'll need to have food brought in from the Tyrells via the roseroad, and that can be dealt with."

"How?" Arianne asked.

"You Dornish are good at hiding," Visenya responded, somewhat bitterly as she remembered their early attempts at conquering Dorne. "Five hundred riders with good horses and able to live off the land and remain hidden can ambush any shipment of food, unless guarded by an actual army. Ride in during the night and set fire to it all, or poison it," Visenya looked to Oberyn. "Can such thing be done?"

Oberyn grinned, "It might," he admitted. "It just might, and I know just the man to organize such a band."

"Then see it done before we leave," she turned her gaze back to Doran. "Take no action until you receive word from me. I'll have a raven sent to Sunspear with the words 'Fire and Blood' when it is time to strike."

"It will be done," Doran nodded.

Visenya smiled slightly. "Fear not Prince Doran, even if half of our plans and contingencies fail, it should still stall the Usurper and his allies long enough that Caraxes will have time to grow properly, and then only a fool will face us on the field, they'll be locked in their castles and cities until they starve to death or bend the knee."

Doran smiled slightly. "Then let us raise our glasses, for the wars to come."

Varys:

Varys watched with pity as Eddard Stark stormed out of the Small Council chambers, King Robert's screams following him. Varys both admired, and despised Lord Eddard. He admired him for his morals, who else in the Realm would've had the courage to not only council Robert to let the Targaryens go, but actually chastise the King and then resign his office?

It was a shame. The Realm was in need of good men like Eddard Stark, and yet at the same time, Eddard Stark was one of the biggest obstacles to Aegon's eventual Conquest. He and Illyrio had worked years on the plan, they both knew that something extraordinary was needed it Aegon was to succeed. While hardly united, the Realm as a whole was strong, each Kingdom scheming and plotting, and flush with potential men to call to war. And for all his vices, Robert was well loved, Aegon's invasion would be stopped before it could even begin as long as Robert was King. The alliance that had held the Realm together since the Rebellion was tearing at the seams though.

Jon Arryn's death had left Lysa in charge of the Vale, a good thing normally as Lysa was so fearful for her son that she would adamantly refuse any call to war, no matter who asked for her aid, but she was also so infatuated with Petyr Baelish, and should Baelish ever gain the permission to wed Lysa, he would be in control of the Vale, and in prime position to use it's rumoured forty thousand men to devastating effect, and thanks to its geography the Vale was an almost unassailable stronghold, only truly vulnerable from the sea, or the air as Visenya Targaryen had proven near three centuries earlier.

And even if the King should die it still left Eddard Stark. If he found out the truth of the Queen's children, then the alliance would most likely collapse altogether, but if he didn't then Eddard Stark, regardless of his feelings towards Joffrey would feel honour bound to serve and protect, and if he did find out out… well, there was the reason Varys despised Eddard Stark. Honourable men were truly the worst to try and predict he found out, as one could never know when they might do something incredibly… foolish. No, Eddard Stark would have to go, one way or the other, as his death would break the bonds between House Stark and House Baratheon, and leaving the North in charge of a boy barely five and ten, he just had to find out a way to do it. Unlike Jon Arryn who had been poisoned by his wife, Eddard Stark was far more cautious, employing a food taster, and never leaving the company of his guards, he knew, sadly what a vipers den King's Landing was.

"Damn stubborn fucking fool," Robert's continued mutterings drew Varys' attention back to the present. "Are there any other matters?" Robert asked impatiently.

"Ah yes," Pycelle started mumbling and fumbling about with several sheets of paper, with both Varys and Baelish, still under heavy guard sharing a brief moment of camaraderie as they both rolled their eyes with exasperation, how was it that no one else saw through the old fool? "Grave, grave news Your Grace," Pycelle said as he found the paper he was looking for.

"WELL?" Robert yelled, he had never been a patient man, and certainly not when angry, so Pycelle's dithering must be especially grating at the moment.

"A message from the Citadel Your Grace," Pycelle said gravely. "Foul murder and theft as well."

Now that was interesting, Varys had always had trouble getting his little birds into the Citadel, distrustful lot that the grey rats were, only Dragonstone and Driftmark were harder to get information from, to his great regret.

"Little more than a week ago, the Arch Maesters were discovered in the morning, dead from poison. The restricted library broken into with several books missing and all four of the Citadel's glass candles gone."

Varys winced slightly. Glass candles meant that the thief in question was obsessed with magic, and no good ever came of magic.

"Who is behind it?" Robert asked.

"We-we believe it was Arch Maester Marwyn Your Grace, he was the only Arch Maester not found dead, that is, it appears he has left in great hurry, as most of his personal possessions have been left behind. A full accounting was done, we keep meticulous records after all, and one of the acolytes, some Summer Islander boy named Alleras seems to be his accomplice."

Varys considered for a brief moment if he should inform the King about just who 'Alleras' was. He had always made it a point to keep track of Prince Oberyn and his children, so he kenw that Prince Oberyn's daughter Sarella, who just so happened to look like a Summer Islander was studying at the Citadel, also, simply turning her name backwards so it became Alleras instead of Sarella was hardly a great feat of deception.

But he held his tongue at the last minute. No matter how much he hated magic, he hated a mystery even more, and this was just the latest mystery that Dorne was connected to. Dorne would be Aegon's strongest ally, if they bought the tale he and Illyrio had come up with, which was why they had Jon Connington with the boy. So, if only for Aegon, Varys would hold his tongue, at least until he knew more of the situation, and there were several things he wanted desperately to know.

"Bah," Robert snorted, "Let the old cunts deal with it I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule, I've no time to worry about some dried old cunts getting robbed or poisoned," and then he rose from his chair and stormed off.

'Rule indeed,' Varys thought drily, if Robert spent even half as much time ruling as he did between a whore's legs then Varys might not participate in Illyrio's plot. A good friend who he owed very much, the Realm was still Varys' greatest concern which was why the situation in Dorne was so vexing as of late.

Quite recently Princes Doran and Oberyn, as well as Arianne Martell had met in private with Ser Arthur Dayne and his niece, Lord Stark's bastard daughter, the question was why, and was Lord Stark involved? Eddard Stark for all Varys knew had not declaimed his daughter missing, nor had he informed the King that Arthur Dayne was no longer in Winterfell. That Arthur Dayne was the mystery Knight who had caused such furore in the Reach was obvious, and that his niece was actually his squire was evident, and it had been the pair of them who had killed Gregor Clegane, the Mountain's head had been proudly been carried through the streets of Sunspear less than a week after Ser Arthur and Lyarra Snow had appeared in Dorne, even if Doran never revealed who had delivered it.

So why? Was Ser Arthur hoping for Doran to give the girl a good wedding? Perhaps wedding her to Prince Quentyn now that Daenerys Targaryen was no longer available, or did he have some other purpose? The girl had after all been seduced to Prince Oberyn's bed if the words of one of his birds were true. Gossip in the Water Gardens certainly supported the theory as one of the cleaning maids swore she had discovered the Prince in bed with the bastard one morning.

'And such a rare beauty as well,' he thought, 'almost like a Dragonlord of old,' he drew in a sharp breath, 'surely not...' but it fit, it fit so well. He could only blame the Sack, and the still lingering Targaryen presence on Dragonstone for why no one had questioned why a member of the Kingsguard had been doing in Dorne, guarding a lone woman and rumoured lover of a Prince, especially during time of war. And for that matter, hadn't both Oswell Whent and Gerold Hightower also been there? The latter two hadn't shown up at Dragonstone until several months had passed since the sack, long enough to have verified if Lyanna Stark bore a boy or a girl…

Wary of the fact that both Baelish and Pycelle were staring at him after his sudden gasp Varys held a hand faintly to his forehead. "My, I think the heat is getting to me," he tittered, making both men roll their eyes. They knew he was lying, but as always in the little games they played with each other, appearances had to be maintained. Giving them both one last look Varys skulked off.

It was past midnight when Varys appeared in Lord Eddard's rooms through a false wall, he had no intention of being discovered, the risk was too great. "Varys," Eddard Stark gasp from where he was seated at his desk, reading over a few letters. From the state of the room, Lord Stark had come quite far in packing already.

Varys spread his arms slowly. "Lord Eddard, we must speak alone, please follow me."

Stark moved much quicker than a man his height and bulk had any right to, almost vaulting his desk and then he had Varys against the wall with a dagger at his throat. "I'll go nowhere with you in the middle of the night Spider."

"I'm afraid I must insist," Varys leaned closer so that his mouth was but a few inches from Eddard's ear, "It concerns your niece," he whispered, almost laughing as Eddard's dagger fell to the floor with a loud 'clank'.

"How," he whispered breathlessly.

"Not here," Varys said as he walked back into the entrance he had arrived from. They continued to walk, their only source of light was the small candlestick in Varys' hand until they reached an intersection, one passage led into the city itself while another went into a steep downslope that would end in a small hidden cove along the Blackwater. Varys turned to Ned. "I must commend you My Lord, you've had the whole Realm fooled."

Ned glared angrily. "Say what you want to say Varys," he said stoically.

"War is coming My Lord, your niece is already hard at work."

Ned's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean."

"I have little birds everywhere," Varys said softly, "One whom has it on good accounts that you niece has taken Oberyn Martell for a lover, furthermore she and her good Ser Arthur have been meeting with the Martells in secret."

Judging by how Lord Stark's clenched fist was trembling the man was no doubt furious at the mere thought of his niece bedding the well known Dornish rake. "If I ever get my hands on that man…" Ned almost snarled.

"The question, My Lord Hand is what will you do? I am not the only one in this city who knows how to put two and two together… If I can figure out the clues, then so can others," Varys paused. "And you know what will happen should the King find out."

Ned swallowed thickly, if he was lucky then losing his head was all that would happen, at worst his entire family would be murdered by Robert. "Why tell me then?" he asked, "You did not hesitate to send your knives after the Targaryen girl."

Varys laughed. "Who do you think has ensured that they've lived this long hmm? Oh yes," Varys said as Ned's eyes widened. "'twas I who spirited them across the sea. I alone that ensured their escape in the nick of time from the assassins Robert forced me to send. I've kept them alive My Lord as a viable alternative… should it be needed."

"If needed," Ned Stark was gaping. "You speak of the future of the ruling family."

"And what off it My Lord hmm? You've seen Joffrey yourself, another Aerys if ever there was one, Myrcella is a girl, without the benefit of coming from a family known for warrior women and dragon riders, and Tommen… Tommen is a sweet boy, the court will tear him asunder I fear, if his brother does not do it himself upon inheriting the Throne."

"So you what? Keep an extra pair of possible rulers at hand in case you need to have Robert's children replaced?"

"An overly simple explanation My Lord, though not entirely inaccurate."

"And now?" Ned spat. "You think you've found another, better option?"

"Hardly," Varys said. "I merely wanted to warn you, and inform you that the King will no doubt find out sooner or later, it only takes one wrong comment and someone will fit together all the pieces."

Ned was pacing by now. "My children are not safe in the city," he stated finally.

"No they are not, neither are you My Lord."

"I have a duty to Robert," Ned growled, "If he finds out then so be it, but I'll not endanger my children any longer," he turned a sly eye on Varys. "Who do you serve Varys?"

Varys smiled, "I serve the Realm My Lord, the old and the young, rich and poor, and most importantly, the innocents who so oft get crushed under the heel of the nobles who play their games."

"Aye, it's always the innocent who suffer the most," Ned agreed with a heavy sigh, "But my daughters are young, and innocent in these games you speak of."

"That they are My Lord," Varys agreed.

"If I were to ask, could you spirit them out of the city? Tonight?"

"I could," Varys admitted. "But why should I?"

It took all of Ned's willpower not to hit him, it was clear as day to Varys upon spotting the rage in his face. "They are my daughters" Ned snarled, "hate the Great Houses for their games all you want Spider, but my daughters have committed no crime, and I'll not have them in danger in this pit of vipers any longer than I need to."

Varys stayed silent as his mind worked through a hundred different scenarios, should he aid the Warden of the North? Or not. "I can get them out My Lord, but I cannot ship them back to Winterfell," he held up a hand to silence Ned. "If your daughters were to end up in Winterfell, the King and Queen would question why you sent them off in secrecy in the dark of the night."

Conflict appeared on Ned's face. "What do you suggest."

"I have a friend," Varys admitted, "A few friends actually with whom the girls could stay, at least until it would be safe to bring them back," he smirked slightly, "You know one of them I believe, and old flame whom you met during the Tourney of Harrenhal."

"What?" Ned asked in confusion.

"Ashara Dayne is not dead My Lord," Varys said. "She lives in Essos, she desired a new life away from Westeros I believe, what with her daughter taken from her, and her brother leaving for the North to guard his Princess… I must commend her for her loyalty, not once did she mention Rhaegar's daughter living with you."

"Ashara…" a pained look crossed Ned's face at the mention of his old love. "What do you mean her daughter being taken away? Our daughter was stillborn."

"Was she?" Varys questioned. "Ashara never wanted her daughter to grow up as a bastard, nor did she wish for you to take her with you North as she feared you would, so she gave the girl to her parents to raise as her sister instead."

"Allyria," Ned's voice was almost a whisper. "Allyria Dayne, she's my daughter."

"Yes," Varys confirmed. "And she's had a good life, and set to wed a good man."

Ned hesitated before giving a resigned, heavy nod. "Do it," he said harshly. "Get my daughters to safety…" he gave a moment's pause. "Would you be able to send word to my son and wife?"

"Best not My Lord," Varys said sadly, "At least not at first. Once I receive word that the girls have been safely delivered to Ashara's safekeeping I'll have you pen a letter to be given to your wife."

"How will it be done?" Ned asked.

"Go to sleep My Lord Hand," Varys calmed him. "I'll take care of everything, a few of your guards will wake up with ringing heads but that will be the worst of it, and the girls will not be here tomorrow morning."

Ned nodded. "One more thing Varys, in the Weeping Rose my daughter's tutor is staying, make certain he goes with them, I assume you can continue to make certain he is paid."

"Ah yes, the water dancer," Varys remarked. "He could be useful," he admitted. Aegon could certainly benefit from having the former First Sword of Braavos teach him a few tricks.

A resigned smile crossed Ned's face. "Make certain that whomever you send to spirit away the girls, bring with them Arya's sword as well, their ears will regret it for a long time after if they don't."

"I'll see it done."

Visenya:

Visenya sighed as she took a deep breath from where she stood upon the cliffs on Driftmark. It had been far too long since she visited the island where her mother Valaena had been born on. "Amazing sight to see," Oberyn remarked as he watched Caraxes soar through the air in the fading gloom of day.

"They are amazing creatures," Visenya admitted. "My ancestors conquered most of the known world with them," she smiled slightly, "Can you imagine it Oberyn? Hundreds of them, white and gold, red and black, blue and bronze, soaring through the air."

She let out a little smirk as Oberyn shivered. "Oh I can imagine alright," he admitted. "And any who cannot should take a look at Harrenhal, or even here," he admitted, pointing out the burned out husk that remained of High Tide, the magnificent castle that had been raised by Corlys Velaryon after his journeys, and subsequently been burnt down to its foundations in the Dance. "Though I wonder why Corlys or his grandson never rebuilt the castle after the Dance was over, he certainly had the funds for it."

"He left it as a reminder," Visenya remarked angrily.

Oberyn raised an eyebrow.

"A reminder of our own foolishness." Visenya admitted. "It was the first time my House wed someone not of Valyrian blood, and because of it the Realm bled, and my House nearly brought to ruin."

"You support Rhaenyra then?" Nymeria asked.

"Aye I do," Visenya said simply. "She was older than her brother by far, and with three children of her own, and most importantly, she was Viserys' proclaimed heir, of which the Small Council and the Lord Paramounts all signed off on. Aegon, that whelp of Alicent Hightower had no rights to the Throne… No, if not all the following Kings of my House learned a lesson then I certainly have."

Visenya studied her Dornish companions. "I can assure you that my father's marriage is the last time a man or woman of House Targaryen will wed someone not of the Blood of Old Valyria, and especially not to an Andal."

"You don't seem to like the Andals much," Obara said with a small grin.

"And why should I?" Visenya questioned. "Look at them, each time a Targaryen has married an Andal the other Andal Houses have become wroth or insulted and started to plot together," she shook her head. "No, Like my ancestors of Old Valyria I'll let men follow whatever Gods they wish, but never again will I allow Andal filth and corruption to mar the blood of my fathers."

Slow clapping made Visenya turn around and give a rare smile. Walking towards them was Ser Arthur whom she had sent to meet with Lord Monford Velaryon, while Visenya, Oberyn and his two daughters waited by the ruins of High Tide. Following Ser Arthur was ten guards, clad in shining plate and aquamarine surcoats with the seahorse of House Velaryon, and a man who could only be Lord Monford himself.

Like most men in whom the Blood of Valyria still ran strong, Lord Monford was a tall man, easily surpassing six feet. His silver gold hair was kept short, nearly shaved all the way down on the sides and his short beard was well trimmed. "Well said," he lowered himself to one knee, his guards following him, "My Queen."

"My kin," Visenya said as she stepped close and raised his head to look upon her. "It brings me joy to see House Velaryon is still strong and true."

"The Old, The True, The Brave," Monford said with a smile, reminding Visenya of the words House Velaryon had sworn by for centuries. "House Velaryon has always served House Targaryen, and I'll not be the first of my line to break that faith."

"One would think you would hail to Viserys," Nymeria quipped.

"Enough" Visenya barked as she shot Nymeria a dark look that promised her a painful beating at a later date. "Rise My Lord," Visenya gestured for Monford to stand.

"Quite so," Monford agreed as he glared at the Dornish bastard. "We fought for Rhaenyra who was by all rights the true Queen of Westeros. It is Queen Visenya who is the last living child of Rhaegar, and unlike Viserys who begs across the sea she has the first living dragon in over a century."

Visenya laid a hand on Monford's shoulder, "And I'll not forget your loyalty My Lord, and I can assure you that the time for dragons will come again."

Monford nodded. "How did you hatch it My Queen?" he asked. "Our last egg hatched before the Dance, and none of our ancestors from House Targaryen has managed to hatch one since."

"I do not know why," Visenya admitted reluctantly. "Eggs do sometimes petrify, but it should be easy enough to reawaken them if one but knows how, and there should be more than enough books and scrolls in the library at Dragonstone…" she paused. "I personally suspect foul play, not only this, but in other matters as well, though we shall have to speak in private about this."

"Of course," Monford agreed. "I've made preparations for your arrival My Queen, none shall know of your presence here I assure you. I also brought extra horses."

"Thank you," Visenya said as she accepted the reins of a horse, easily swinging herself into the saddle.

It was a short ride to Driftmark castle, filled mostly with pointless smalltalk. Visenya herself not willing to discuss important matters around others, and Monford was clever enough not to attempt it either. Though old and somewhat cramped, the castle was still strong, and shaped much like Dragonstone, it's design almost like a star instead of the round or square designs so often favoured by the Westerosi, with gargoyles shaped in all manner of mythical creatures decorating the castle.

Inside the main hall they were met by a table groaning under the weight of all kinds of dishes and flagons of fine wines stood ready to be poured. Seated beside the Lord's chair was Monford's only son and heir Monterys, a young boy of six. Next to Monterys was his mother, Lord Monford's sister wife Alyssa, and then was another man, who, much like Loras Tyrell ahd no business being so pretty as he was.

Long flowing locks of silver gold, an elegantly styled moustache and shining purple eyes. He was much slimmer than Monford, though near as tall, and unlike Monford he had a roguish grin that made Visenya do all manner of things that would've earned her a thorough scolding from her mother.

A cough brought her out of her daze and she delivered a warning glare to Oberyn who, judging by his smirk was this close to letting out a remark that would earn him a lashing. At least good Ser Arthur was as dependable as always, doing his very best to murder the handsome man with his eyes. "My family Your Grace," Monford remark, and to Visenya's chagrin there was a definite tinge of amusement there, he'd no doubt seen the look on her face just as Oberyn and Ser Arthur had.

"My son Monterys, my sister wife Alyssa and lastly my bastard brother Aurane," he pointed each of them out in turn. "This," he gestured to Visenya, "Is her Grace Visenya of House Targaryen, the second of her name, rightful Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

A fair few people gasped in surprise, with many taking a swift knee. "Please," Visenya stalled them. "There is a time for supplication, but it is not now, not when I am hungry and weary of travel."

Monford laughed and escorted Visenya up to the table where she was seated beside him, fortunately on his other side so both his bulk, as well as his wife and son blocker her view to his bastard brother, she'd need a few moments to collect herself. 'Damnit Senya,' she cursed herself. 'You're a Queen, not a simpering maid lusting for any handsome face,' But Aurane Waters wasn't just any handsome face. The Blood of Old Valyria ran as strong in him as it did in his brother, but his slightly more slender frame was a sharp reminder of her own, now long dead brother Aegon, and for all the Oberyn was a good lover, she longed for a proper man of the Blood to call her own.

As they dined she split her attention between Monford and his sister-wife for the most part. Young Monterys for all that he was quite adorable for a child was simply too young to fully appreciate conversation, especially when he had a plate filled with desert.

Alyssa she learned, was Monford's elder by two years, and had served as a lady-in-waiting for Queen Rhaella until her death, having been one of those who helped bring Daenerys into the world, and had later studied under her father Lucerys while Monford was a hostage in King's Landing. As was their fashion as a House of Old Valyria she had wed her brother upon his return from King's Landing upon the death of their father, young Monterys making his appearance a year after their wedding, though they'd not been blessed by another child since. "Not for lack of trying," Alyssa had said with a grin.

"Must you speak of this in front of my nephew," Aurane huffed, though his grin revealed that it was in jest. "I'll not have you corrupt him so soon sister," he smirked, "as his uncle that is my job after all."

Alyssa sniffed primly. "I'll twist your ears until they fall of if you teach my son your wicked ways," she said warningly.

"Come now my love," Monford cut in. "There are far worse men that our son could learn from."

"I suppose," she said grudgingly.

"There you see?" Aurane said with a victorious grin. "Leave him with me, we'll sail all around the world once he gets a bit older and when we return he'll bring with him a whole gaggle of little boys and girls of his own for you to dote upon."

"I suppose you'll return with all the treasures of Old Valyria and a dragon each besides," Alyssa said drily, "I know you well enough brother that I'll never let you drag Monterys away to introduce him to every whorehouse from Sunspear to Qarth."

Aurane chuckled. "You know me too well sister," he remarked ruefully, before shooting a grin at his young nephew, "Worry not nephew, there are enough establishments in Westeros that I'll yet manage to sneak you in to sample a few."

"That's quite enough," Monford said finally, chuckling slightly at his son who looked confused, not knowing exactly what his uncle was talking about, only that it was apparently bad if his mother was anything to go by.

"I hate to interrupt this marvellous feast," Visenya said, "But I require a word with Lord Monford," she looked at Arthur and Oberyn, "Alone."

Alyssa nodded. "Of course Your Grace, I shall see to it that your companions are given proper lodgings after the meal is done."

Visenya followed Monford through the corridors of the old castle until they were both seated in his darkend solar, only a few candles for light, while outside the door, Ghost prowled to ensure their privacy. "Now we can speak of your worries My Queen," Monford said.

Visenya nodded slowly. "I fear for the future of my House Lord Monford, the Rebellion…" she shook her head. "Too obvious I think, merely the last in a long line of attacks aimed to eradicate my House."

"You suspect something… deeper is behind it all?" he questioned.

"As do you I should think," she said slyly, smirking slightly as he gave a short nod. "There is so much that does not add up," she continued. "Balerion, dead at two hundred and two of old age," both of them scoffed.

"Dragons grow until the day they die," Monford affirmed, "and I've yet to hear of any dragon to die of old age, with the exception of Balerion."

"Yes, and then of course, shortly after the Dance that was caused by those greedy Hightowers every dragon egg is suddenly refusing to hatch."

"Not quite," Monford admitted. "Rhaena Targaryen's dragon hatched, quite healthy even, and yet soon after she wed her Hightower husband the dragon withered and died, same as the last dragon that Aegon III hatched, it was weak and withered from the start and died soon after… since then no dragon egg has hatched, to my knowledge at least."

"Yes…" Visenya paused. "And then there are the problems we've experienced in the last generations or so. My great grandfather Jaeherys, born weak and sickly, grandfather Aerys an actual madman by the end, and of course my grandmother… one and ten children, all but three either miscarried, stillborn or died in infancy."

"I never knew the Queen that well," Monford admitted. "But by all accounts she was a healthy woman, hardly frail or sickly."

"Yes," Visenya agreed. "Ever since the Dance there has been an abnormal amount of Targaryens born frail and sickly, I refuse to believe for a moment that it is coincidence." She studied Monford for a moment. "Tell me Monford, when you wed, did you do it in the fashion of Old Valyria? Did you perform the proper rites?"

"Of course," Monford said aghast.

"I suspected as much, you still keep in your possession books and scrolls from Valyria that has been shared between our families yes?"

"Naturally," Monford said. "Should the worst happen, my son will still learn of his heritage."

"As it should be," Visenya praised. "We had much the same on Dragonstone, as well as a few additional books and scrolls pertaining to dragonlore."

"As was your right as the last true Dragonlords," Monford said.

"And yet, near every wedding as far I can tell since that of Jaeherys has been done in a Sept," she wrinkled her nose in disgust. "What if someone have been systematically stealing or destroying the collected knowledge that we saved from the Doom? What if the men and women of my House simply stopped performing the proper rites?"

"It would explain the sudden ills that has befallen your House My Queen," Monford admitted. "I'd say that someone of my House would've educated your ancestors, but they would've found it hard to do so if they were unaware of this."

"Just so," Visenya agreed. "I'd say after the Dance was probably when it would've started. Aegon was but a boy when the regency council took over, and your ancestor Corlys died long before he could've told Aegon anything."

"Pardon my curiosity My Queen," Monford halted. "How is it that you know all of these things."

Visenya smirked slightly. She trusted Monford, far more than any other man, save perhaps for her uncle, but he'd find the tale as hard as anyone else, far better to deliver a believable lie. "Daenys the Dreamer saved my House from extinction, and she is far from the only one with Dragon Dreams."

Monford's eyes widened slightly. "That would explain it," he admitted impressed. "You have a rare gift My Queen."

"Indeed," Visenya agreed. "Now, I hate to seem uncouth, but is there a reason why House Velaryon has fallen upon such hard times?" she asked carefully. "A single son and a bastard brother as the only heirs should something befall you and your sister."

Monford grimaced. "Monterys was a difficult birth, and Alyssa has yet to conceive since."

"My condolences," Visenya said softly. "And Alyssa, what would her reaction be if you were to take a second wife?"

"I'd rather not ponder it," Monford admitted with a wry grin.

Visenya laughed. "She would not be pleased I imagine, but it may be necessary, especially if my plans are to bear fruit."

"What plans?" he asked curiously.

"We will retake Westeros, that is a certainty, it is only a question of time before Caraxes becomes large enough that most of our enemies will yield rather than face a second field of fire, but why stop there?" she asked, fire burning in her eyes. "For centuries the Free Cities, Myr, Lys and Tyrosh in particular has been a thorn in our side, pirates and smugglers interfering with trade or levying unjust taxes, raiding our shores in the night to carry our subjects off as slaves, and at times even going to outright war, the time has come My Lord to have a proper reckoning and bring them to heel...for good."

"Were it not for that bitch Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra and Daemon would've done it already," Monford said surly. "I read it from Corlys' own journal. Less than a year before the death of King Viserys, plans were already made for an invasion of the Triarchy."

"Exactly," Visenya said, even though she was surprised that the idea had actually been seriously considered. "Which is why I would suggest you speak with your wife about taking a second wife. I will need dragon riders, and House Velaryon has proven its loyalty too many times to count, it is time that you are finally recognized as a House of Dragonlords in your own right."

Monford's eyes widened. "My Queen," he said in a hushed whisper. "This… you honour us."

"An honour you've earned through generations of sacrifice, yours will be the first House of Dragonlords, sworn directly to House Targaryen."

"An oath that shall never be broken My Queen," Monford said adamantly. "You have… plans for others as well?"

"Perhaps," Visenya admitted. "Celtigar may be considered. But for the nonce I think the best option is to make use of the dragonseeds, I'll give them dragons if they can hatch them, and like my namesake I'll bind them in bonds of unwavering loyalty. A few choice marriages perhaps, and some generations of hard and true loyalty and one of mine descendants might raise them up."

Monford chuckled. "Even if you or your descendants decide not to, you'll still have a core of loyal dragonriders, I assume you'll attempt to employ the same methods Queen Visenya used to ensure the loyalty of Aegon's Kingsguard?"

Visenya grinned. "The very same," she admitted.

"Good," Monford said. "And yourself? I assume you have a husband in mind?"

"Not for the moment," Visenya admitted. "I had hoped you had a son closer to me in age, or perhaps Celtigar, gods know I cannot wed Oberyn."

A sly smile appeared on Monford's face, "And my brother is a bastard, and as such not suitable, regardless of how much you wanted him."

Her face was burning she knew it. "Careful Monford," she said angrily as she tried to force the redness away from her cheeks. "Careful now, I give you much more liberty than most considering the bonds of loyalty and kinship between our Houses, but speak to me in such a fashion in public and I'll have to take you to task for it."

"Of course My Queen," Monford placated her, though he still had that knowing grin on his face.

She stayed on Driftmark for a further three weeks, ironing out as much detail of her plans as she could with Monford. She would've preferred to leave as swift as possible, but according to Monford, Lord Celtigar was about to send out a force of men on his yearly attempt to get a bent copper from the Houses on Cracklaw point, and according to Monford, these last years Celtigar had sent enough men that a few of them even returned alive, no coin with them though, and Visenya had to suppress a smile of triumph. Ever since she personally gained their loyalty during the Conquest the men of the 'Claw had been fervent loyalists to House Targaryen, and only House Targaryen.

And with Lord Celtigar coming to visit Monford in onrder to discuss wedding his grand daughter to Monford as a second wife, Visenya would accompany Celtigar back to Claw Isle, and join his little tax 'expedition' from there. Also accompanying her would be Oberyn as a personal guard, Ser Arthur had already left for Duskendale, where he would attempt to sniff out their loyalties, before moving on to Rosby and Stokeworth, having been given great freedom as how he wanted to act. According to him he would attempt to find out their true loyalties, before making subtle hints about a future Targaryen restoration that was backed by several important Lords and a Kingdom or two. Their response would determine whether Senya would have to set aside time and plans to take the castles by storm once she made her move or not.

On another front, Oberyn gave her news that his daughter Sarella had been successful. Once she was first told of Sarella and how the girl was masquarading as a boy studying at the Citadel with none the wiser she had discussed with Oberyn about the possibility of Sarella stealing the fabled glass candles in the Citadel's possession. She hadn't thought the girl would do it, certainly not succeed, but apparently she had. Successfully stealing the candles, along with several books and scrolls from the Citadel's secret vaults, and she'd been aided in her efforts by an Arch Maester, fondly nicknamed Marwyn 'The Mage', one thing was certain, Visenya was looking forward to meeting this man, very much…

The White Bull:

His hands were shaking, Gerold noted suddenly as he paused in his packing. They were in Vaes Dothrak. Had been there for weeks actually, and it had as a whole been a completely horrible experience. They hardly spoke the language, people acted like barbarians, rutting or drinking themselves into a stupor wherever one turned his head.

The ancient rules of the city forbade weapons, so he, and Oswell as well as the mwn whose loyalty they had gained for Viserys' cause since escaping to Essos had to walk around without so much as a dagger by their sides, and it made him feel as naked as whore in a brothel. He was a Kingsguard, and furthermore, he was Kingsguard to a King who made his job even more difficult than Aerys had ever done.

Aerys had been mad, not even Gerold would deny that, but he had the full weight of Westeros behind him, nominally at least, and was for the most part fully capable of acting out on his threats. Viserys though… He had nearly gotten them killed several times on the journey to Vaes Dothrak alone, the biggest incident was the one where one of Khal Drogo's riders near strangled Viserys to death, only quick thinking by Oswell had saved their lives that day, first by cutting the whip and then overwhelming Viserys with tales of this wondrous wine he had discovered and expertly led their King away, no doubt to sample this wine, while Gerold had to calm donw the furious screamer who had nearly killed the King, only wisdom, and Princess Daenerys' pleading eyes had stopped him from ending his life, even if he fulfilled his duty and challenged the screamer to a duel later that night and removed his hand with a single swing of his sword, just as the law dictates, 'he who raises a hand to the Blood of the Dragon loses the hand'.

And now, it was all over If only the King had consulted with him or Oswell perhaps they could have stopped it, instead the fool had marched straight into the Khal's large tent and threatened him and Princess Daenerys at sword point. Oswell had tried to interfere, and only his quick reflexes let him escape with more than a fright. For the King that brief interruption mad all the difference though and he'd quickly been apprehended, as had Gerold and Oswell, and the two Kingsguard had been forced to watch as the King was nailed, hand and feet to a pole and simply dumped into the cooking fire, the Khal had not the patience to wait for the gold he put into a large pot to melt.

"Ser Gerold?"

Geruld spun around at the voice only to be met by the sight of Princess Daenerys. "Princess," he greeted her.

Daenerys wrinkled her face slightly. "I am Queen now that my brother is dead," she said sullenly.

"Forgive me Princess but you are not," Oswell interjected. "By the precedents set by the Great Council of the year one hundred and one after Aegon's Conquest, and later again in the Dance of Dragon, your brother, as the last son of House Targaryen was the rightful King, but your niece Visenya's claim comes before yours Princess, and the Queen is alive and well in Westeros."

Daenerys face fell. "So you'll just l-leave me here?" she asked.

"Our duty is with our Queen," Gerold said sadly, he had no desire to leave his Princess, but his duty was clear. "If you wish for it, we would take you with us, it would be difficult, and the Dothraki would no doubt give us chase, but it could be done."

"N-no," she shook her head, "I cannot leave, not without my sun-and-stars."

Gerlod gave the Princess a nod. "Then I wish you good fortune Princess, and know that I will do my best to keep your niece the Queen safe."

Gerold stiffened, and gave a murderous glare towards the chuckling Oswell as Daenerys threw her arms around him and sobbed. He was a damn Knight, give him a sword, and half a dozen men to kill, but confront him with a weeping woman and he was so green he might as well piss grass. "There there," he said weakly as he patted Princess Daenerys lightly on her back.

At least Oswell got the same treatment, he noticed smugly, even if Oswell seemed more at ease than he himself felt in that moment. And so, with the night still young, he, Oswell and fifty other men saddled their horses and rode west, towards Westeros, he could only hope that the Queen would be forgiving and welcome them into her service, it would be just his luck if the Queen should turn out to be as cold and unyielding as the rumours said, at least she was only named for the first Visenya, dealing with the original one would have been a nightmare if the tales were true...