EPILOGUE

RHAELLA

323 AC

Her heart was beating in her chest like a drum.

All her life was about to change.

With her eyes fixed on the ships approaching Salt Shore, Lady Rhaella Lyend recalled the heavy book in Maester Zed's rooms. She had grown hearing those stories about monsters that had risen from the snow and the ashes and the heroes who had defeated them. Even now she remembered her father's sweet songs and the promises he had made to her about the future. How they would one day leave Dorne to explore the Seven Kingdoms from North to South. He even promised to her they would visit the Order of the Winter Knights in the Tower of the Night.

Promises the wind had swept away.

Her father was no longer there, taken by some strange disease less than a year ago. Since that day, and despite her heart aching for her father, something had emerged within her. A discovery about the true Rhaella. The invisible walls her parents had built began to break, unraveling a new world, built on the very same dreams of her childhood.

But children's dreams are often the parents' nightmares.

The young lady had learned her lessons. She knew her chance to be set free had arisen in that very same moment when everyone else was grieving Lord Lyend. Daringly, she had made her first move, acting on her mother's back… and throwing herself into the spiderweb.

"The game of thrones, my child, is a dangerous thing." Uncle Varys had told her, smiling mysteriously. He lived in the Salt Shore Castle, a guest of the Gargalens along with the Lyends. But he rarely left his chamber, since he had had a falling out with father years ago. "But you are meant to play it since you came into this world."

That encounter had been more than seven months ago.

She had thought things would happen faster from that moment onwards.

But the days had dragged on, and Salt Shore Castle slowly transformed itself from her home into her prison. In fact, lately, the cursed towers of the castle seemed like gnarled fingers, trying to choke her every time she was awake. Losing her youth and beauty at its prime. Rotting like a winter rose in a dark and smelly cellar.

Not for much more, said that little voice in the back of her mind. The wind caressed her face softly, bringing to her the sweet almond scent of the leafy trees embracing the Summer Bay. Was that the perfume of freedom?

"Are you still sure you want to get on with this?" Her mother asked, standing next to her. Lady Lyend would always be afraid for her children, as much as Rhaella kept repeating there was no reason for her to be worried. But what are words compared to the red and black sigil of the Targaryens? The dragon with three heads was clearly visible on the sails of the approaching ship, taking to their home the intrigues mother wanted to keep at bay.

Time had been generous to Lady Lyend.

Still, the sorrows of the past had left their toll on her. The wrinkles surrounding her eyes were deeper since father's death and the silver threads that painted her hair seemed to grow each day, erasing her beauty slowly. Either way, she smiled nervously, squeezing Rhaella's shoulder with a trembling hand.

"I've never been so sure in my life, mother." Rhaella answered sharply, allowing her mother a brief quick look. The shadow of a smile touched Lady Lyend's lips. A smile that was nothing but a mask. More than fear, the mother also tried to hide something else: a feeling of guilt.

The roar of the dragon caught her eye.

Rhaegal.

The ship approaching Salt Shore rippled the banner of Queen of Dragonlair, Queen Daenerys Targaryen. It was not her first visit to Dorne, of course, but it was the first time she had come to meet them. But the most impressive thing was not even the ship, but the green dragon that flew overhead, leading the vessel toward the coast.

Rhaella looked out of the corner of her eye to the small group waiting for the entourage of the capital. Lord Rullin Gargalen was there, beside his wife, Lady Nyna, both sheltered under an umbrella. Rhaella had grown to admire those two as if they were her grandparents, even if they were nothing more than friends to her father and their hosts. They were the lords of Castle Shore, even though they didn't look like it.

Further down on the dock, keeping the twins under an eye, was Sandy, always ready to step in. The boys wanted to run back to the tower to see the dragon from a higher point.

And yes, there he was.

Lewyn Martell.

I'll have to deal with him later, Rhaella said, feeling her guts twisting. The young Martell had ignored her orders once again when she had been perfectly clear. He was supposed to be away, hunting on the woods or visiting his mother in Sunspear. But there he was, as a loyal pup. He had infiltrated the small entourage of Lord Gargalen's personal guard. Sneaky little boy.

Rhaella looked back at the twins, alarmed by Daeron's cry. Her brother was pointing indiscreetly to the sky.

"Look how huge the dragon is!"

Her brothers were too young to realize the importance of what was happening. They had been restless since the news had come that the Queen would pay them a visit, as well as Lord Jon Snow the Wolfrider. Nevertheless, it was to be praised that, for once in their lives, the twins were wearing ceremony garment and not the usual trousers stained with dirt and mud.

"You know it's going to change everything from now on," Said her mother again, grabbing her hand now. Her touch was cold as ice, even though the day was hot.

"Shall we talk about this again?" Rhaella asked, whispering between her teeth. "You said you would manage to live with my decision, Mother ... and this is what I intend to do. Can you settle down for a little while, please?"

Lady Lyend sighed but said nothing more.

Sometimes, Rhaella wondered if her mother could actually see the daughter she had raised. With that thought in mind, she immediately turned to kiss her on the cheek.

"Don't fret, Mother. Everything will be all right. Can you trust me?"

Mother nodded, but she was not entirely convinced.

At last, the dragon landed on the dock, a few feet away from the entourage awaiting. A hot, dusty wind embraced them, waving their robes and forcing them to half-shut their eyes. Rhaella's blond hair combed with the help of one of Lady Nyna's handmaids, fluttered wildly. She tried to straighten it, ashamed at the thought that the royal entourage would first meet her in such terrible condition.

Lord Jon Snow came down from his dragon and watched them from where he stood. Rhaella was not sure what to expect from the Commander of the Order of Knights of Winter, but the man standing before her was undoubtedly distinct. His hair was black, punctuated here and there by white locks. His face was hardened by the cold northern winds, but his gaze was gentle. He wore a sword at his waist, with the head of a white wolf in the pommel, just like Maester Yandel had written in his book. He also wore a white armor, with the Order symbol engraved on the chest: a white sword, pointing north, and an emerald dragon with its tail wrapped around the blade.

He is not an ugly man for his age, Rhaella thought, blushing.

As he approached, stripping off his black gloves, Jon Snow kept his eyes on the group waiting for him. The twins, surprisingly so, had finally shut up. They seemed so intimidated by the presence of that legend of old stories like Rhaella. Still, they did a fine job opening their mouths in a very uneducated way.

Sandy, behind his helmet, must be laughing.

But Jon Snow's eyes were full of tears, and as he approached Rhaella's mother, he fell to his knees.

"For years I thought your story had ended during that bloody Tournament," he said, as Lady Lyend laid her hand on the top of his head.

"Stand up, brother. There is no need for that. The days when men were to kneel at my feet have long gone by."

Jon Snow sighed and stood up immediately, enveloping his sister in a long hug.

"Sansa," he said, his voice muffled by her mother's hair. "You really are alive."

Dorne's hot wind caressed them for a few seconds when no one spoke. The seagulls screamed, anticipating the ship that was docking. No other sound could be heard at the moment. Everyone stood in silence, from noisy Daeron to the maid holding Gargalen's parasol.

"A part of me is still alive, yes," said her mother, also succumbing to tears. Rhaella was close enough to hear them. "But I'm no longer the woman who left Winterfell more than twenty years ago or the scared queen who was taken prisoner at King's Landing."

Time could heal a lot, but certain wounds were impossible to appease. From the cold voice her mother used, Rhaella wondered again if she had made the right decision sending Lord Varys to the capital. Allowing Lewyn to do what he had done. Stepping out of the shadows.

There is no turning back.

Rhaella had believed the secret about her identity, and that of her brothers deserved to finally come to light. Yes, father and mother had decided to hide the truth for years, deafening out all the voices that advised them to do otherwise. Lord Varys, of course, had been one of them. But also, the Princes Doran and Oberyn, and even Lord Gargalen. All of them had advised her father to step further, but he had never done so.

Yet her father was no longer there.

This is the right thing to do.

Rhaella was a woman made.

She was sixteen years old and already bleeding. That meant decisions regarding her future would soon to be made. But what future could she hope as the daughter of Lord and Lady Lyend? Marry a smaller lord, bore him a few children and govern his household. That idea made her shiver.

No, she had been born to something much greater than that.

At least, that was what Lord Varys had told her so many times. And she was not going to let her parents cut off her wings. Her mother, of course, still opposed to her decision, but without father's support, it had not been impossible to convince her. It had only taken a little longer.

But what wounds am I going to inflict upon mother by bringing back these ghosts of the past?

She had never met her half-brother, but she would always be haunted by the memory of the young king.

Edwyle.

Sansa Stark had lost a son in that stupid war years ago, a child of five years forced to wear a crown on his head. But more than resentment against the people who had used her son as a pawn, Rhaella knew mother was especially resentful that the North had turned her back on her when she needed them most. Her own people. If her brother Robb had fought for her instead of marching to fight the Others in the North, Edwyle might be alive... but at what price?

Rhaella shook her head, pushing away again the questions that Grand Maester Yandel's chronicle had put in her head.

The hug between Sansa and Jon finally broke, and an awkward silence surrounded them for a few seconds.

"Let me introduce you to my daughter, Lady Rhaella Lyend," said Sansa, gesturing towards her Rhaella.

Lyend.

Even her name was a lie.

"Lady Rhaella," said Lord Jon bowing his head. He was indeed a fine strong man. "It's good to meet at last."

"Likewise, my lord," she replied, lowering her head.

Next the docked ship, a board was already being set up for the crew to descend to the dock. It was remarkable that Sansa was still managing to smile.

"We were very glad when we heard that you..." Jon Snow began the sentence but hesitated again. He looked around, clearly looking for mother's approval. "Well, that you existed."

Rhaella tried to smile back, but her lips betrayed her.

"And my sons..." Sansa intervened again, clearly not knowing what else to say. "Sandor, please bring them here."

Sandor Clegane had been on the Salt Shore since Rhaella remembered, but it had not always been so. The knight had found her mother, hidden in Dorne, two years after the end of the war. At that time, everyone believed Queen Sansa had died in the Red Tournament, but Sandor Clegane knew better. He had been there when Rhaella's father, pretending to be a bard named Modaen, had rescued Sansa to take her to Dorne. Sandor had supposedly come to free mother and take her back to Winterfell or Duskendale, but by the time he had arrived Sansa Stark had already decided not to return home, not after having lost so much in that war. So, Sandor Clegane – the man many knew as The Hound - had sworn his sword to Sansa and remained at her side ever since.

Sandy was the nickname Rhaella had given him when she was only three years old, unable to say his name. The Hound still smiled every time she was to call him in such a way.

"Behold my children, Eddard and Daeron Lyend."

The twins bowed before Lord Snow, with smiles on their faces, before asking if they could pick up his Valyrian steel sword.

"Yes, you can." Jon said, laughing. He was clearly emotional with something else. Maybe Eddard's name, who had been called after her grandfather.

Even so, Rhaella laughed with the others when her uncle drew his sword to show it to the children. The green dragon watched them cautiously from afar, threads of smoke arising from his nose.

At last, the plank bridging the ship to the dock was safely mounted, and the procession went down to the quay.

Rhaella had to hold her hands to hide how much they shook.

She was more excited than ever, especially after recognizing the figure of Daenerys Targaryen among the guests climbing down from the ship. The Mother of Dragons had lost two of her sons, including her mount, but had won much more since then. She had founded the capital city of Dragonlair, where she sat now in the Dragonglass Chair. Her heart had hardened with her loss, according to her subjects, but she was praised by her capacity to rule. With light, almost white hair, she wore an equally white gown with little gold details forged after the Targaryen symbol. At the age of forty, she was known in the Seven Kingdoms by many names, but in recent years people had grown used to call her the Lonely Queen, for having refused to remarry or produce an heir.

An heir.

According to rumors, that was one of the reasons why she was there.

"Your Majesty," said Sansa, curtsying before the queen.

"Queen Sansa, I've heard a lot about you over the years... but I never expected that we would ever be face to face."

Rhaella looked up to observe the queen once again when she referred to her mother not as Lady, but as Queen. It was not only a sign of respect but also a predisposition to know her.

She seems like any other woman, Rhaella thought, nervous, while looking to the queen closely. Another old woman, after all.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sansa said, still using her cold tone.

"I'm sorry we have only been able to meet now," Daenerys said docilely. "But I believe there are good reasons for your exile..." The queen's eyes darted toward Rhaella for the first time, and a smile immediately tinged her lips. "And you must be Lady Rhaella."

"Yes, I am, Your Majesty," Rhaella said, curtsying after her mother.

"You are beautiful, young lady." Daenerys said, raising Rhaella's chin with her hand. "And you are so much like…" The meaning of her words was lost forever. "Yes, you would do well at court, if you ever have the chance to travel."

Sansa moved uncomfortably, and Daenerys understood it better than anyone. The Mother of Dragons was not a fool, and Lord Varys had told her a lot of what she would meet in Salt Shore, for sure. Gracefully, the queen moved her attention from Rhaella to the twins.

"And who do we have here? You must be the infamous twins the Spider told us about."

Rhaella noticed her mother was not even looking to the queen anymore.

Her attention was craved on another woman, stepping from among the royal entourage. The group that had come from Dragonlair consisted of about fifteen people: a maester, some soldiers, a knight of Queensguard, Lord Varys - who seemed to have returned to Salt Shore as a prisoner, with his wrists chained together - and of course, the woman her mother was staring at so hard.

Sansa Stark advanced to a short woman, who wore a black armor like a common soldier and kept her hair black and small. From the look they exchanged, Rhaella understood who she was.

Arya Stark.

"Sorry," said Aunt Arya, bursting into tears, hurling herself into her sister's arms.

Sansa Stark returned the hug, but once again there was ice in the way she treated one of her siblings. Still, both sisters gave in to tears immediately.

"Sorry?" Sansa asked, loud enough to be heard by her daughter. "But I'll never forgive you." She continued, sobbing as she clung to her sister.

Rhaella touched her mother's arm, trying ease the harshness of those words in some way. It was uncomfortable to see those two women weeping and sobbing like that, and right in front of the queen. As most of the present there on the dock looked with curiosity to that encounter, Lord Gargalen extended his arm to Queen Daenerys and invited everyone else to follow him into the castle.

Sandor took over the guard of the twins, pushing them toward the staircase, while Jon Snow signaled to the remaining royal entourage to proceed inside. Lord Varys seemed hesitant, but he acceded and followed the group to the castle. The knight of the Queensguard kept close to him.

It's good to see you have not lost your head, thought Rhaella, exchanging a look with the Spider. She would make sure he would lose his chains before dinner.

Sending Uncle Varys had been a risk since he was considered a traitor of the kingdom after the revelations of the Great Council of Duskendale. He had briefly collaborated with the cause of Shireen Baratheon, even though he kept swearing he had never known the true purpose of her claim. But time had passed and, as the Spider had told her before leaving, he had friends in both Dragonlair and across the Narrow Sea who would defend him before the queen.

He had been right because he had returned in one piece.

On the dock, as the summer sun began to assume its reddish twilight tinge, the only family remained. Rhaella looked around, exchanging glances with Jon Snow. The knight seemed utterly lost.

There was nothing he could do.

His sisters had to resolve their differences on their own.

"I failed," Arya continued, sobbing. "Sorry, I failed him. If I knew you were alive, I would never have had fought for Edwyle's cause without your blessing... I would never have... "

"But you did." Sansa interrupted. "And my son's blood is in your hands, Arya." Sansa said, breaking her embrace to take her sister's face between her hands. "It was you the one placing a crown on his head. You threw a five-year-old child into this damn game of thrones. And now you're here again, with your Dragon Queen... and for what? To take my kids again?"

"We came only because your daughter invited us…" Arya tried to defend herself immediately, looking to Rhaella, trying to find some help there.

"Sansa, you're being too hard on her..." Jon interjected, reaching out to touch her shoulder. His sister gave him a pointed look. "Our sister only did what ..."

"I know what she did," Sansa replied, keeping Arya's locked between her hands. Fear had taken possession of her. "You failed my son, Arya."

"And every day since then, I suffered." Arya insisted, still with tears in her eyes. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live with that burden? Even after avenging him and making sure Shireen Baratheon suffered in her death, I never managed to calm this sense of guilty burning on the pit of my stomach. It only grows worse, because now I can't do anything else to bring justice to your son." She gulped, pausing for a few seconds to catch her breath. Mother didn't relent holding her face. "But what alternative did I have? Were you expecting me to sit, doing nothing, watching your son being robbed from everything that was his by right? Is that what you would have wanted? "

"I just know I wanted my son here with me and alive," Sansa retorted, still struggling with her fears. "Still, yes... a part of me is grateful, Arya." She continued, to the surprise of everyone around her. "You were the only one who came to my rescue when Joffrey put me behind bars. At least you tried to fight for me and Edwyle. " The queen finally removed her hands from her sister's face. "But do not apologize for failing my son, because a mother will never be able to forgive that."

Sansa stepped back and watched her sister from head to toe.

"And I will not let you take my children back to this bloodthirsty world of yours. Not after everything I have done to protect them ... "

"We just came because your daughter called us," Arya repeated defensively. She wiped the tears with the back of her hand, before glancing at Rhaella once more. There was an odd mixture of feeling in that glance. Curiosity, maybe, but also fear.

Rhaella adverted her eyes and blushed once more.

Before Arya could say anything else, she reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out a small wooden figure in the shape of a deer. A toy, carved with a knife on a piece of wood.

The symbol of the Baratheons.

Sansa bit her lip, again letting a shy tear trickle down her face. Slowly she reached for the wooden figure and grasped it with her trembling fingers, bringing it to her lips.

"You loved him. I never doubt that." Sansa said, still holding the toy close to her lips. Rhaella did not understand the meaning of it, but she supposed the toy had some meaning. Maybe it had belonged to Edwyle. "And I'm grateful for that too, Arya." She gulped dryly. "But cordiality is the maximum I can guarantee for the future of our relationship."

Sansa kept the little toy hidden in her closed hand, before turning her back to her siblings and advancing toward Salt Shore castle. The royal entourage was already far off near the entrance.

Feeling lost and at the same time guilty, Rhaella Lyend stared at those two familiar faces, and at the same time unfamiliar ones. Arya Stark was still staring at her, her eyes half-glazed, as if lost in a sea of nostalgia. Jon Snow approached her and touched her lightly on the arm, awakening her from whatever stupor had taken control over her.

"Maybe we should head back to the castle," Rhaella said, lowering her eyes. Her mother was already striding away. "Dinner will be served soon."

The dinner that followed lightened up the tension in the air, but only briefly.

Thankfully, the twins were too excited to dine with the adults and were taken to Lord Gargalen's private solar do dine. Meanwhile, a small dinner party assembled in the dining hall. Beside Lord and Lady Gargalen, there were a few other guests around the table. Queen Daenerys, being the distinguished guest of the night, sat at the head of the table in the place of honor. She seemed regal in her white dress, but not the powerful figure Rhaella had always imagined. It seemed something had really broken inside her.

Jon Snow sat at the queen's side. He had removed his armor and was now wearing a simple garment that suited him well enough. Arya Stark, on the other hand, sat on the other side of the table and had not changed clothes. She seemed somber in her seat, remaining silent during a great part of the dinner. Varys sat next to them, free of his chains at last. Rhaella sat at his side, with her lady mother right next to her at the other head of the table, right in front of Queen Daenerys.

What an odd and sad party dinner.

The conversations were very elusive for most of the meal.

Lord Gargalen led the conversation, like the good host he was. He had many questions about the political status of the Seven Kingdoms, and his wife had also two or three words to give regarding gossip. There was a talk about the Riverrun Tournament, held on the occasion of Lord Edmure's second marriage: it seemed young Rodrick Greystark had won the mêlée. They also mentioned the crisis of the Westerlands, and how young Lady Joanna Lannister - daughter of the late Lord Martyn – was doing a fine job ruling the land, despite being only thirteen-years-old. And at last, they mentioned Princess Arianne Martell, who had sent blood oranges for that very same dinner, and who had become a grandmother two weeks before. Her eldest daughter had given birth to a little boy, called after her late father, Doran.

But the topic that really caught Rhaella's attention was Tommen Arryn, Westeros' most eligible bachelor, and the five marriage proposals he was considering.

"It's important that the lad is well-guided on the matter," said Lady Nyna, wiping her mouth with the corner of a napkin.

That was a wrong choice of words, Rhaella thought, feeling sorry for Lady Gargalen's lack of filters. The Lady of Castle Shore was too fond of gossip for her own good.

Even so, she was right.

Tommen Arryn, as they were all well aware, was the heir to the Dragonglass Chair, however much it might displease the Lords of the Vale. And it seemed the Lord of the Vale himself was already quite firm in the likelihood of such a future. After all, Daenerys would never have children of her own, and it was unlikely that Jon Snow would also produce an heir.

The most eligible bachelor of Westeros, Rhaella said to herself as she brought a fork with kidney pudding to her mouth.

It was quite hilarious. Westeros' most eligible bachelor was rumored to be a bastard of Petyr Baelish and not the legitim son of Robert Arryn. That Queen Myrcella had done her whoring quite well. Her son had at least inherited a name and land. But inherited the Realm? Well, that had to be prevented and it was quite clear Daenerys Targaryen had that in mind.

Finally, the boring conversations faded.

The night had already come down by then, and a few candles dripped wax along the wooden table. Lord Gargalen, knowing that the queen was there to discuss other matters, bid farewell and left the room with his wife.

Sansa had spent most of the dinner spinning between her fingers the wooden figure her sister had given to her. Arya, on the other hand, looked as uncomfortable as her, averting her eyes whenever Rhaella looked at her. Still, it was Arya who began to speak as soon as the doors of the hall closed, finally leaving them alone.

"Sansa, I know you're not glad we came, but now that we are here, I think we deserve to know what happened to you all this time." Arya said, making an absurd effort to keep her eyes fixed on her sister. "The war ended fifteen years ago. Even if you were hurt by what happened to your son, you could have said something, given some sign that you were alive... "

Daenerys Targaryen sighed, shifting in her chair.

"I'm sorry if your sister is being too keen on you, Queen Sansa ... But we're tired of our trip and your family is curious." She said very quietly, very softly, resting her hand on Jon Snow's. "And according to what Lord Varys has told us - and that is the only reason he is alive at this moment - there is something you are still hiding from us. Something that can change the course of the Seven Kingdoms. Was he right?"

Rhaella lifted her head to see how her mother reacted to those words.

Sansa Stark kept her eyes fixed on the toy, like a stubborn child.

"Sansa, please help us understand what..." Jon Snow began to speak but was interrupted immediately by his own niece.

"This is not an easy matter for my mother." Rhaella said, realizing from the corner of her eye that her voice had been enough to force her mother to take her eyes off the accursed wooden stag. "Especially after my father's death." She swallowed, feeling the glint in Queen Daenerys's gaze, and the subtle smile that touched her lips. Almost as if she was amused. "It was me the who instructed Lord Varys to seek you in the capital so that he could invite you here and we could tell the truth…"

"The truth," Sansa interrupted, putting the toy on top of the table. Mother sighed and reached for her glass, taking a long sip of wine. "And what truth is that that you seek? Well, Lord Varys, go ahead, since it was you the one whispering these dangerous ideas into my daughter's head. " She set her glass down on the table with a thud. "Go ahead, then."

"My lady, I never whispered into…"

"Enough. I'm tired of hearing your lies." Sansa snapped, raising her hand to shield herself from Varys' words. Rhaella closed her hand in a fist under the table. Mother had promised to be open-minded about the matter, but she had drunk a little bit much and was just embarrassing her before the queen. "I should have gotten rid of you when I could have done it."

Lord Varys was rarely nervous, but this was one of the times he was. His life hung at the tip of many blades and his own survival depended only on his ability to justify himself.

"I never wanted to bring pain to anyone." Began Spider, his eyes on Sansa. "Much less to you, Lady Sansa. But the cause that brought me to Westeros so many years ago spoke louder… and I had to manipulate this game in order to succeed. It was greater than me, you or any of us sitting at this table. The future of the Seven Kingdoms and of mankind itself depended on what I had to do."

"How dramatic," Arya said, ironically, also drinking some wine.

"You jest, my lady... But it is dramatic indeed." The eunuch replied.

"Lord Varys, can you go to the point?" Daenerys asked quite directly.

The shadows cast by the small flames on the candles danced around Varys.

"When I was just a child, a red priest cut my balls and burned them before my eyes."

"Seven Hells." Arya said, filling her glass again with more wine. "Why would you tell us that?"

"That is how this story begins, my lady." Varys spoke, and this time he seemed to have little regard for his life because it was clear he despised Arya Stark as much as she despised him. "I still remember how the flames rose high on the priest's brazier when he threw my parts into the fire… The pain was unbearable, and I believe I was feverish… But I am sure I heard the voice clearly. A voice emanating through the flames. My skin crawls with the simple memory of that night. More than the pain that tormented me for weeks, what I heard through the fire marked me, like a hot iron branding my skin... "

"You told me this story before," Jon Snow said coldly. He too was not a friend of the Spider.

"But I didn't tell you what I heard in the flames, did I, Lord Snow?" asked Varys, raising a finger. "And what motivated each of my steps up here."

"So, get to the bottom of it once and for all, Spider." Daenerys cut again, irritated. "We have no time for charades."

"If you don't interrupt me every time I speak, I may manage to come to the end of my tale." Told Varys. After assuring no one else would talk, he continued. "The voice in the flames said ... well, how do I explain this? The voice said that the Song of Ice and Fire resided in my blood… And that I had born with a single purpose: mend what had been broken. Forge a future with fire and ice, and make sure the God of Death would be killed."

"Use me as a mere brooding mare," Said Sansa, attacking Varys openly.

"My lady, you are being unfair ..." Varys said, hoarsely.

"It's true," Sansa replied, pointing a finger in his direction as if accusing him of a crime. "Lord Varys believes that my children were born with one purpose only: save the world, as the prophecy says. Three heads have the dragon, and my children represent each of these heads, having in their veins ice and fire."

"Ice and fire." Daenerys said, exchanging a look with Jon Snow.

That means something to them, Rhaella noticed, feeling her heart leaping once again.

"I suppose you're familiar with the Blackfyre Rebellions, Your Majesty." Varys said again, trying to get back to his story.

Of course she was, like all the others around the table.

The Blackfyre Rebellions had started many years ago, in the year of 196 AC, when Daemon Blackfyre - a bastard son to King Aegon IV - rose against his older and trueborn brother, King Daeron. A civil war ensued, as did many others after that first rebellion, which one led by different bastards and descendants of Daemon Blackfyre. The whole Blackfyre Rebellion had only ended when Ser Barristan Selmy had managed to slay Maelys the Monstrous during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

Or so it was presumed.

"Well, there was a Blackfyre left, one that no one believed it would be relevant." Lord Varys said. "Lady Rhaella Blackfyre, daughter of Daemon III Blackfyre to a pentoshi whore." Daenerys whispered something to Jon Snow's ear again. "I don't know much about this woman, only that she would later have children of her own, a pair of twins... Unfortunately, she died during childbirth, and her children were sold by Rhaella's own mother to be slaves. After selling her own grandsons, the woman had enough gold to live the rest of her life without selling her body again. Before parting from the children, however, she lied to protect them. They were Blackfyres, but they wouldn't last long if the Targaryens were to uncover that two children of bastard lineage were still alive… So, she called them Lyend. A lie to hide their true lineage."

"How do we know this is true?" Daenerys asked, interrupting Varys once again. "It very could be a lie."

"Well, I'm the living proof, Your Majesty." Varys said, managing a sad smile. "Since I am one of those twins. My brother Daeron Lyend was the other half."

Arya Stark laughed, and this time it was clear she had had too much to drink.

"That does not prove anything."

"I have the blood of kings in my veins." Varys said, anticipating. "That was why the red priest wanted me. He wanted to burn my private parts to summon his Red God and hear what he had to say. That was how he understood how important I was, and did his best to save me from the pain he had inflicted upon me. He even helped me discover my twin brother after telling me the Blackfyre blood lived within me."

"That doesn't make any sense." Daenerys said again, suspiring once more. "The Red God wanted to destroy our world. Why would he share with you a prophecy destined to save it? The three dragons are destined to bring down the Nightgrove."

Varys smiled as if he was already waiting for that question.

"I despise the Red God as much as you do, Your Grace. They elude us, casting false light into our eyes, making us believe in what we shouldn't." He said. "The blade that cut me was moved by the hand of the Lord of Light, remember. I have every reason to despise him. But we are just playthings to these evil gods. The Lord of Light wanted me to bring to form this ancient prophecy, yes, and make sure the world could be saved from the threat of the Others… But that time I didn't know that. I only knew there were supposed to exist three dragon riders to save the world of an unnamed threat. The God of Death, as the voice told me. But I was just a pawn. You understand me, Lord Snow. I know you do."

Jon nodded, understanding what the old Master of Whispers was trying to tell.

"The old prophecy of the Three Dragons was given to us by the Children of the Forest. It is more than a prophecy, I believe. It's a way to truly defeat the Others." He said. "The Nightgrove can only be destroyed when three dragon riders rain their fires over the icy slopes on the far North. But the Red Priests used that prophecy in their own way, taking appropriation of its meaning… And making us believe we were following the Lord of Light's commands to save the world. But no, the red priests only shared with us such a prophecy because they believed it was the right way for their Red God to come."

"Yes, my lord." Varys said, nodding. "I still believe they had hoped the dragon riders wouldn't only bring down the Nightgrove and the threat of the Others, but also engulf the world in flames as Lady Melisandre did in the end. Of course, by that time I didn't know all this too. I just knew the prophecy of the Three Dragon Riders had to be brought to form…The Red Priests wanted to bring it to form so that the Others could be destroyed, the world set ablaze and, finally, so that their God could emerge from the sacrificing fires lit."

"Unfortunately, they failed." Jon said. "There were three dragons, but the three dragon riders supposed to led them were brought down."

"Yes, yes… But they didn't fail completely." Varys said. "Two of those dragons fought the Others in the North, making sure the threat was controlled. That was not ideal but was enough. Enough, at least, for the Red Priestess Melisandre to step further and summon her god, casting her own fires. Still, the Red God has been dealt with, but the Nightgrove stands, and the Others will come again if not stopped. The prophecy of the Three Dragons remains to be fulfilled."

Varys set his eyes on Sansa Stark again.

"Before the events of the War of the Three Queens, I didn't know what I know today. I didn't know the three dragon riders existed at some point, and that the prophecy could have happened if things had aligned properly." He sighed. "I kept on trying to bring to form this song of ice and fire, bringing into this world men or women capable of riding a dragon. So, long ago, when the Targaryens still ruled, I tried to join a daughter with the blood of the First Men and a son with the blood of Old Valyria. Ice and fire joined together, forging a lineage to rule for three thousand years."

"This is ludicrous." Arya said, shaking her head. "We should rip his tongue out."

"No." Daenerys said, raising her hand. "Go on, Lord Varys."

The Spider nodded, smiling his thanks.

"Prince Rhaegar was a fascinating man." He started. "And very different from his father. It's a pity he died so soon because I am truly sure he would have been a great king." He gulped. "In my early days at court, I managed to get close to him and told him what I have now shared with you. He became not only fascinated with the Prophecy of the Three Dragons, but also curious. He traveled to the Citadael to study ancient books about divination and prophecy… And when he returned, he smiled and told me he was destined to bring the prophecy into its form. That, I still remember today, happened the night before he left to Harrenhal's tournament.

"When news reached me about him kidnapping Lyanna Stark, I knew what he had done… And I was glad, even though the war was soon ripped apart in war. But if Rhaegar and Lyanna were to have a child, they could bring to form the old prophecy." Varys looked toward the table to Jon Snow. "Well, for years I believed Rhaegar had failed. I have kept many secrets, but not this one. When Prince Rhaegar was killed on the Trident, and news came about Lyanna Stark also being dead, I knew I had failed. I didn't even suspect the bastard Lord Eddard had brought to Winterfell, so sure I was about my failure. How could I bring the prophecy to form if there were no Targaryens left?"

"This brings me back to my brother, Daeron Lyend." Varys said. "I met him when I was seventeen-years-old. It wasn't easy to track him, but I did it before leaving Westeros to try my luck with the Targaryens. My brother was fighting as a sellsword in the Golden Company, so I went to him, prepared to convince him to fulfill the prophecy since I couldn't. My brother laughed at me when he saw me for the first time, surprised to see a reflection of himself. He knew he had a twin, but he had never hoped to find me. However, when I told him about the voice in the flames, he laughed again and told me to stop chasing the Red Gods. We took our separate ways then, and I traveled to Westeros, sure I would find here another way to fulfill the prophecy... I climbed my way to the throne room, and worked, extending the web all around the Seven Kingdoms, combing bastards everywhere to find someone with silver hair. I tried my luck with Rhaegar and saw him fail. I was truly desperate then, sure I would never succeed. If only I had known Rhaegar had had a son…

But then, on the aftermath of the war, when I got back to work, something happened. A friend of mine, that had become Magister in Pentos, sent me a child. A young little man, no more than six years old, that had been sent to him by a dying man that looked just like me."

Sansa sniffed, at the end of the table, holding back her tears.

"The boy was called Daemon Lyend." Varys said, smiling. "And he had been sent by my brother. I found out later that Daeron died with greyscale not long after that, and wanted to save his child and make my wish true. Make my son a king, he had told my friend Illyrio. So, I took the child under my wing and sent him here to the protection of Prince Doran. Prince Doran knew about him, of course, harvesting through years the possibility of marrying to his own daughter to the young bastard child... And Daemon grew, an educated little man, taught to fulfill a prophecy one day.

"I had only to wait for the right time."

Varys stopped for a few seconds, to sip a bit of wine.

"And then Jon Arryn died, and the Realm was without a Hand." He continued, placing again the cup on the table. "And I knew the time had come. When Robert Baratheon departed to Winterfell to invite Eddard Stark to be his new hand, I send for little Daemon. I hid him at court as a kitchen boy and then later moved him to the court, placing a harp on his hands... "

"Making sure he seduced me." Sansa told, coldly. "So that ice and fire could lay in bed, and forge the dynasty to bring your damn prophecy." She retorted, drinking again. "I was never a queen. I was a mere brooding mare."

Varys opened his mouth, but no word came out of it for a moment.

"In the end, he truly loved you, my lady." He said. "And so did you."

Sansa looked at him sternly.

"Do not ever tell me again that he loved me in the end." She said, furious. "He may have loved you, Spider, but I do not. I have kept you here to honor Daemon's memory, but if you say that again... I swear I will let my sister rip your tongue."

"I will gladly take the fall for it, my lady. As I told you many times." He said, smiling, and his eyes turned then to Rhaella. "Because my mission is finally done."

Sansa gulped, stretching again her hand to the cup.

She knew he was right.

"A prophecy." Arya mused, astounded. "I cannot believe this."

"But I can." Daenerys said, nodding. "I saw the true prophecy when I visited Asshai. The High Priestess showed me the flames, too. And I saw there the three faces that should ride the dragons. I saw Jon, myself ... and the boy I never had the chance to meet." Sansa looked across the table at the Dragon Queen. "Brandon Stark."

"If Victarion Greyjoy had not taken control of Viserion, we could have done it." Jon continued at her side. "The Nightgrove could have been destroyed and the peace secured. But he could not do it." Jon traded a glance with Daenerys once again. "And for many years we have feared the prophecy cannot be mended. We have two dragon eggs, but they never hatched."

Rhaella had always imagined herself hatching a dragon egg. Riding the dragon. Becoming a legend of this New Age. That's why she had sent Varys to Dragonlair, and why Mother insisted so much on keeping her behind walls.

Her dreams were coming true.

"They may hatch now." Daenerys said, looking again at Rhaella with curiosity. "Your children have the blood of the dragon, Queen Sansa. It's their destiny."

"No." Sansa said, shaking her head.

This is enough.

"Yes." Rhaella stepped in over her mother.

"No." Sansa repeated, loudly. "This was not supposed to happen. Me and your father have sacrificed a lot to prevent this."

"Mother, please, do not humiliate me now... You said you would accept my decision."

"To let you die?!" Sansa said. "You will lose yourself in their games. You will die, Rhaella..."

"Or I may win." She replied, before turning her face to the other side of the table. "I want to claim my inheritance, Your Grace. I want to do what my father should have done. I want to have a chance to hatch a dragon." Her breathing was fast, and her heart was ready to jump out of her mouth. "This is why I sent Lord Varys."

Daenerys smiled, triumphantly.

"You are an ambitious little child, Lady Rhaella. But I don't want to meddle between you and your mother."

"I'm a grown woman, and I can decide for myself." Rhaella said. "Please, Your Grace, let me have a chance to prove myself. My father and mother tried to protect me for years, because of what happened to my half-brother. But I cannot live on the shadow of a ghost, hiding behind walls. Not knowing that I could be out there flying a dragon, destroying the Nightgrove and even ... "

"Getting a crown upon your head." Daenerys said, to Rhaella's surprise. The Queen could read her like an open book, and still smile amused with her ambition. "That's what your father was destined to do, wasn't it, child?"

"Don't you dare talk to my daughter that way." Sansa replied again. "And do not talk about my husband."

Daenerys maintained her smile, but she did not open her mouth again.

The Mother of Dragons was right, though. Varys should have told her that bit of the story. Many years ago, after fleeing King's Landing with mother, father had traveled to Sunspear. That was where Rhaella would be born later, while her father was still preparing to march to war. That had been part of the plan all along. While the Three Queens fought among each other, father was busy gathering an army for himself - the Golden Company had even traveled to Dorne to swear his swords to the cause. He even had the support of the Dornish Princes. After the death of Trystane Martell to the fires of Daenery's dragons, they had decided to support another cause, another dragon.

But her father would never march.

The news of Edwyle's death had taken mother down into a spiral of grief and fear. Finding out the truth about who her lover really was, she also felt betrayed and hopeless. And there, when Rhaella had been born to this world, she had asked her husband: "Do not let war and crowns take you away from me, Modaen. Do not pull my children to these bloody battlefields. They do not deserve it. Promise me."

For the love and respect he had for her, he put his sword down.

Lord Varys, of course, would beg him to ponder his decision again in the following years, as well as most of his friends in Dorne. But Daemon had made a promise, and he lived by it. Later, he would travel to the Great Council of Duskendale - posing again as a bard - to see with his own eyes the game being settled. When he returned home, he had simply said: "You were right. These bloody games will only end in more blood."

They married a few days later, and father never left mother's side again.

Even so, that was their story.

Not Rhaella's.

"Sansa, we would like you to return North." Jon Snow said, after a few seconds of awkward silence. "We know you are wounded, and you felt betrayed by Robb when he did not fight for you, but ... Winterfell will always be your home. You would not be alone anymore. Rickon is eager to see you again, too… and your children could grow with their cousins, as we did long before. We could mend our differences and even ... "

"The North is not my home since father said yes to Robert Baratheon."

"And yet, this is not home too." Jon said. "Not if you are living in the shadows."

"In the shadows, no one sees me." Sansa said.

"But I see from the shadows." Rhaella said. "And I still want more. I want to go to Dragonlair, to dance in a ball and get a flower from a knight in a Tournament. "

Daenerys kept smiling each time Rhaella opened her mouth. Her mother, though, was done with the evening. Sansa stood up in that moment and made a gesture toward her daughter so she would also get up.

"We will resume the talks tomorrow." Sansa announced, bitterly. Her hand danced through the table, catching the wooden stag. "If you will all excuse me, I will retire for my chambers."

Sansa did not even say her goodbyes, moving out of the room quickly.

"With your excuse, Your Majesty." Rhaella said, curtsying before the queen as Lady Nyna had taught her. "Lord Jon. Lady Arya."

"You seem a lot like your mother when she was younger, child." Arya said, looking at her from head to toe. "She also wanted to be part of something greater, to travel to the capital and fall in love... Maybe you should heed her words, girl. She may be right in one thing or two."

Rhaella smile faltered a little, but still, she managed to say a few words.

"I will, Lady Arya. Now, if you will excuse me..."

Her mother was waiting for her in the corridor, outside the dining hall.

"I know what you're trying to do." Sansa said, coldly. "You think the Targaryen Queen will make you her heir. I saw how you looked at her. "

Rhaella raised her chin.

"I'm the blood cousin of Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen. I have the blood of Daemon Blackfyre on my veins, mother. That makes me, and those little dragons that I call my brothers, the next of kin to the queen. You know it. Even father said it one time. We should be heirs to the Throne, not that Arryn bastard ruling the Vale as if he is already the Lord Protector of the Seven Realms. "

Sansa slapped her.

"You are a stupid, little girl, Rhaella." She said. "I wish someone would have slapped me when I had those dreams in my mind."

"You slapped me…" Rhaella said, touching her face. Tears prickled in her eyes. "Even after you said you would respect my decision…"

"Your life is over the respect I have for your decision, girl." Sansa replied, bitterly.

Sandor Clegane appeared at the end of the corridor, certainly attracted by the sound of their voices.

"Go to bed now." Mother ordered, averting her eyes from her. "We will talk again tomorrow."

Rhaella returned to her quarters immediately, feeling tears streaming down her face.

As soon as she opened the bedroom door, she realized that her day was still far from over. Lewyn Martell was waiting for her by the bedroom window, staring at the bay and the green dragon sleeping right where he had landed.

"What are you doing here?" Rhaella asked through gritted teeth.

It was the last thing she needed.

Lewyn turned. He was a handsome young man, with Martell's dark skin and light green eyes. Her hair, equally black and curly, melted like waves whenever Rhaella touched them. Two years ago, when Princess Arianne had sent him to serve as a squire to her father, he had been a true gift to the boring daily life of Salt Shore. In half a dozen nights, Rhaella decided she would surrender her virginity to him if only to irritate her parents. And so she had done, always in secret, allowing him to climb to her bed often.

But since her father had died, Lewyn had become a liability.

"I wanted to know how dinner went." He said, approaching her. He noticed the tears on her face and grew serious immediately. "What happened?"

"You could have waited for tomorrow." Rhaella mumbled, locking the door behind her. "You know very well that Sandy is starting to grow suspicious about us. The last thing we need now is to get caught in bed while the royal party is around. "

Lewyn rolled his eyes and threw himself onto the mattress.

"What matters if they find out? Soon, you will be able to do whatever you want."

Rhaella watched him with irritation. Could she have a quiet night? That was the only thing she wanted at that moment.

"I still cannot do everything I want, though," she said, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed. "Do you want to risk my future when we're so close to having everything?"

Lewyn sat on the bed, his arms surrounding her waist, just as vigorous as chains.

"Your future ... or our future?" He asked, kissing her on the tip of his nose.

He still thinks I'm going to marry him.

"Our future, yes," lied Rhaella, averting her face to escape his kisses once again. "But lately only I have been fighting."

"Did you see the size of that dragon?" Lewyn asked, changing the topic of conversation. "You would be the most powerful woman in Westeros if you could have your own dragon. Even if Queen Daenerys decides not to take you to court and name you her heiress, you could burn her in her own castle and steal her throne."

Rhaella laughed with the idea. Lewyn was incredibly stupid sometimes.

"We'll never get to that much, my sweet Lewyn," she said. "I am sure that with the right incentives, and the whispers of Lord Varys, she will make me her heir very soon." She looked at her lover, allowing him to kiss her on the lips. "Although I wouldn't say no to a dragon ... Of course, I would have to go with my Uncle Jon to the Tower of Night to try to hatch a dragon egg ..."

"Or you could claim this dragon." Lewyin replied, smiling. "If anything happened to your uncle..."

"Are you jealous of my uncle?" Rhaella said, slapping his chest. "I won't shed any more blood."

"You did not complain when we poisoned your father."

Rhaella hit him again, but this time she slapped him in the face.

"What did I tell you about it?" She said, plucking a finger into his mouth. "You want someone to hear us? We may well end up with our heads on spikes, you fool." She inserted another finger in his mouth, catching his tongue. "Even my mother would want me dead."

Lewyn grimaced when she pulled his tongue.

"Is that what you want?" Rhaella asked, pressing her body against him. She could already feel how hard he had grown in his pants. "To have us killed?"

She freed his tongue, pushing him away back to the bed.

"You are mad, Rhaella." He said, touching his lips.

His tongue may hurt, but he was smiling.

"I'm your most faithful vassal, Your Grace..." Lewyn sitting on the bed again. He started to loosen up the ribbons of Rhaella's dress. "And I am here to serve you as you wish."

Rhaella sighed. She had not that in mind for the night, and was not truly on the mood… But maybe it was the thing she needed.

"In that case ..." She said, allowing a smile to touch her lips. "Prove the value of your tongue, my faithful vassal, or I might ask Sandor for your filthy tongue before it's the end of us."

And so Lewyn proved, his mouth sliding along the dress, his hands finding their way to her breasts, as his head disappeared beneath her skirt.

Rhaella stared at the ceiling of her bedroom as Lewyn kissed her as only he could do.

The roar of the dragon outside made her even more excited.

Powerful.

It was her time to play.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's done. I first published this story in May 2016. Three years later, it ends. It's not how I wanted to end it, but at least it's done. The final part of the story is summoned up in around 120 pages and 60K words. I believe I would have needed more than 300 pages to actually write all of this with the original POV structure. And at least 10 years, right?

Most of the ideas and twists that I have now shared with you have been on my mind since the very beginning of this story. Some of them I managed to write down better than others, but the final result makes this a story I would like to read. And that is the reason why I started this.

I always wanted to explore the mythology around the Others, as well as the one behind the Red God of Asshai. Since the book series is named A Song of Ice and Fire, I wanted to create an enemy equivalent to the Others, but that played with fire. The dragons are meant to be the fire, I think, but I wanted to exert the power of the red faith of Melisandre and the legend of Azor Ahai. I don't know if you liked it.

I know some plots are off, there are holes in some storylines, but I tried to do my best with the time and resources I had to finish this. It's hard to write down about so many complex characters, placed in a world just as complex and managing the time and patience to write and rewrite and rewrite again all the tale. I made a lot of research, especially regarding the military points. Some of the numbers of the armies, as some of you pointed out, were off, but I wanted to give you the greatest battles and prove that Shireen had enough power to strike against all the others united. She was, after all, representing not only her cause but the magisters of Essos who wanted to get rid of Daenerys.

Adding to that, I have struggled with my English writing, as I told and apologized constantly, so managing to write a tale with almost 200 000 words has to be an achievement, right?

But putting this story down to rest, I can finally focus on other stories, original stories, and reflect how good it was to write this one: how much I practiced my writing, how much I learned and got better thanks to your reviews, and the pleasure I had from all of it.

And I must confess: writing this last chapter, this epilogue in Rhaella's point of view, I started wondering: how would it be her story? In fact, how would it be a story set in the future, with the sons and daughters of the characters of this fanfic? Well, let me know if you are interested in reading something like that. I can always try it if I have the audience.

Rhaella and her twin brothers are meant to be the answer to a prophecy, but the young princess, as you have seen it, is tormented by her past and has an ambition that led her even to kill her own father. I believe she has a touch of the Targaryen madness. And it was the perfect character to give you a bittersweet ending.

A lot happened in three years. I have lost my father, and then my grandfather, both important pillars in my life. I have moved from my home to build a new one. I started and finished my master's degree. I changed jobs. And now I finished this. I feel relieved, and I'm now ready to write something else.

So, to all of you who have read this story, who have accompanied me in this journey, either expressing your love or hate…

Thank you.

THE COURT OF LIES

I'm also considering writing another AU fanfic about what would have happened if Renly hadn't died. A few years ago, I read amazing fanfic called The Parliament of Fowls by Silver Phantom 2 (check it out, it is really good) that explored this AU, but where the future of Westeros was decided with a kingsmoot called by Catelyn Stark. I would like to explore what would have happened if there was not a kingsmoot, but war resumed.

Here is a little sneak peek of what would this story be:

Renly defeats Stannis during the Battle of the Peach.

Robb turns against the Iron Islands.

Daenerys sails to Dorne after leaving Qarth.

The Lannister plot their survival.

Jon's vows are shaken.

If you are interested in reading something like this, let me know.