Samiere

What decision will Jon make? What if he disobeys her, decides to tell the truth his 'siblings'? And even worse: what if the world finds out and believes it? It's not like Essos, people aren't as kind to her, they don't love her, she hasn't done anything for them that they could. She can't let the truth get out. But what can she do? Steal and destroy the septon's diary, which Jon mentioned, containing the information about the wedding of Rhaegar and Lyanna? It's the only tangible proof, because surely people wouldn't simply believe Bran's words, right? And what if they do? Then what? Should she hope Jon dies during the Long Night and the problem resolves itself? And if  he survives? Should she... Should she order his death? Secretly, so no one would know it was her doing?

"Your Grace?"

"I'm always careful." she snapped, displeased that he'd interrupted her thoughts.

"I don't know if you heard me, Your Grace, but our enemy is returning with an army." Tyrion wanted to shake her, to force out what was more important than what he said, that she wasn't focusing on it.

"If we defeat death itself, Cersei will be like a flea to an elephant by comparison."

"Yes, however, we must consider that we don't know how great our losses will be, or what the condition of our troops will be after this battle. And what ambushes Cersei is planning." he explained calmly.

Finally, she looked up at him, and she stopped looking as if she were ignoring him. Now... Now she seemed bored with him. As if she were just waiting for him to leave her alone. She looked the same when he came here.

"Let us think about that after we defeat the Night King, hm?" she smiled briefly, too sweetly, falsely - an additional sign letting him know she was tired of his presence in her chamber. She stood up and walked to the window, where the snow had just stopped falling.

"Will you finally tell me what happened?" Tyrion stood up as well and followed her. "Suddenly, you stopped caring about anything."

There were times when it was difficult to talk to her. Especially when she insisted on something no one else supported - assuming she even said what she wanted. This time, unfortunately, she wasn't so kind, and despite all his efforts, he couldn't figure it out. Only one thing - or rather, someone - came to his mind, but he knew he'd only make her feel worse if he mentioned it.

"I have more important things to worry about," she replied neutrally at first, but there was a hint of irritation, a threat: 'Try saying anything more, and you'll regret it'.

"Your lover?" he decided to broach the subject anyway. If that was indeed the case, they had to resolve it as soon as possible, so she could focus on more important matters.

"The world doesn't revolve around men, Tyrion." she snapped back, clearly outraged that he'd even dared to suggest such a thing. "We could all be dead soon, and you dare remind me that I'm stressed? That I'm not thinking about the distant future, which might not even exist? If we survive, the plan is simple: I go south and destroy Cersei and everyone who fights for her. And if we die? I couldn't care less. Then I hope it's my walking corpse that tears apart her, Gregor Clegane, and everyone else."

Silence fell. Tyrion rarely didn't know what to say, and at that moment, he wasn't sure if he should say anything at all.

She tried to convince him that nothing had happened, but he trusted his instincts. Unfortunately, he also knew he wouldn't get anything out of her, and if he wanted to find out anything, he'd have to do it on his own. But well... he didn't know how yet.

"Your Grace." he bowed his head in respect and turned to leave. He didn't even think she would try to stop him. Whatever had captured her attention now mattered more to her than the Iron Throne.

* * *

She stood on a hill where dragons had found their current home. Little was visible below through the night that had fallen some time ago, but Visenya could have sworn she knew what was happening - or would soon.

She didn't even realize she was nervously playing with the sleeves of her white fur coat until Maelia nudged her hand with her head. She forced a soft smile, placing her hand near her nostrils and patting it gently. She could feel they were as nervous as she was. They shared similar worries.

Visenya feared that the embrace she'd shared with Robb, which seemed like ages ago, was their last. That she would never see him again. In that brief moment, the nightmare and the fears others had planted within her didn't matter. Only what her heart told her.

In addition, she had another worry, one she hadn't thought she could feel. She feared for Ser Arthur. She said she never wanted to see him again, but over the years she'd come to treat him like he was the father she'd never had. She trusted him like no one else in the world, and nothing had hurt her as much as this betrayal. But the thought of dying that night... it affected her far more than it should have.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Now wasn't the time.

"May I?" she asked Maelia, unsure how she felt about having a rider on her back, after all, she hadn't ridden her since her injury.

Maelia lowered her belly and twisted her torso so Visenya could grasp the thorns on her back. The dragon straightened, pulling her onto her back. She adjusted herself, settling as comfortably as she could, and glanced back at each of her children, who were looking at her with what she felt was fear but also complete trust.

Finally, they took to the air. She couldn't see much until they were closer. Only then did the gravity of the battle hit her. She might have seen the undead army in her dreams, but now, from the dragon's back, seeing this wave approaching them, the end of which she couldn't see... For the first time, serious doubts gripped her. How many of them are there anyway? Do they really stand a chance? Had life pushed her to this point? How was she supposed to cope?

The first time she could see anything more was when Maelia lowered her flight significantly and began breathing fire, flying deeper into the enemy ranks. The other dragons were not far behind, doing the same.

She preferred not to look back at the battle, but the scene ahead was no better. She couldn't see the end of this far-too-fast-moving mass. Furthermore, there was no sign of the Night King, if she could even see him from this distance. She shouldn't have strayed too far, after all, the dragons were supposed to set fire to the trenches, which were lined with logs far too thick to be ignited by arrows, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to see if this vast army had an end at all.

At one point, she felt as if she hadn't flown into, but rather crashed into, clouds. So dense that she couldn't see anything around her. Even Maelis's fire couldn't penetrate them enough to see what was happening below, let alone tell where they were.  She could only hear the sounds of the other dragons, which must have been somewhere nearby. They tried to soar higher, above the clouds, nearly colliding with Rhaegal in the process. The clouds seemed endless, whether they were high or low. To make matters worse, she could barely keep her eyes open because chunks of ice kept hitting her face.

She quickly tried to think of something that would somehow help them figure out where they were, or at least be useful in some way. Then, through narrowed eyes, she saw a long line glowing somewhere in the distance. Fire. Trenches. That was where the castle was.

They headed in that direction, no longer trying to escape the clouds that seemed to have clung to them there. The further they went, the better their visibility became.

Suddenly, a whistle of air that definitely shouldn't be there reached her ear. She leaned even lower on Maelia's back - if that was even possible. She closed her eyes. She felt Maelia react as well, for she dropped her flight abruptly. She could have sworn something had just passed right behind her. She glanced in the direction of the sound, hoping that from this distance and through the clouds - thinner now, but still present - she could see the source of the object hurtling towards her.

At that moment, she heard something pierce the skin, accompanied by a loud roar of pain.

Her head turned in that direction. Fear had already pierced her heart at the sound, and pain gripped it even more as she saw Viserion, a massive spear of ice embedded in his neck.

Helplessness.

It was the worst feeling. She could only watch her child suffer, howling in agony, and struggling for every breath, trying to cling to the sky.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn't even try to hold them back, at first, she couldn't even feel them. She barely felt her hands clench the spikes on Maelia's back, even though, beneath her gloves, her knuckles were white with the effort. She thought her breath had caught in her throat, but in reality, she was breathing faster and more erratically than ever.

For a moment, she heard the worried cries of her other children as if she were underwater. And when they finally reached her, they nearly killed her.

She couldn't bear to watch, yet at the same time, she couldn't tear her gaze away from the way her child slammed into the ground, crushing a significant number of the undead beneath it with its massive body. For a moment, she couldn't see anything below. Not only because tears blurred her vision, but the impact caused a mass of snow to rise into the air, obscuring everything.

She rested her forehead on one of her hands, only then realizing she couldn't breathe. A chill ran through her, she'd never experienced one like that before in her life. She knew dragons weren't immortal. She knew they could be wounded after the battle against the Lannister army. She knew that if they won this war, it would cost many lives. But she never allowed herself to think that one of her children might die.

She remembered how each of them had crawled over her, how tiny they were. How they laid on her. Then, as they grew larger, they simply rested their heads on her lap. And then she laid on top of them. How her heart had broken when she'd locked Viserion and Rhaegal away to protect the people of Meereen. And then they had all set off to Westeros together.

Now his story ends. Here, during the battle with the undead, in the North, far from the lands he came from.

He looked at her with the same fear, yet trust. He was afraid, but he was always with her because she was his mother. And now he's gone. She had failed him.

After a wave of despair, a wave of anger washed over her. She looked again in the direction from which the icy spear had come, but unfortunately, her vision was unable to see anything. She sniffled and rubbed her eyes, but still found nothing.

She should focus on the battle, on why she was here. She was the Queen, here to protect her people, to defeat evil, and then to take the throne - but how could she do that when she couldn't even save her own child? When grief and vengeance tore her heart apart?

They seemed to circle the field for an eternity, where the undead army was still marching towards the castle. She guessed it must have been one of the white walkers, or the Night King himself. Finally, all the snow kicked up by Viserion's fall had subsided, and... She couldn't see the body. It wasn't there, and she remembered exactly where her child had died.

She hadn't expected that sudden attack. She also hadn't expected to be nearly torn in half by the dragon's claws. Blue fire ripped through the air and the remnants of the clouds just before the massive paw slammed into Maelia's back, right next to Visenya. Any closer, and she would have been crushed by the paw or torn by the claw.

Instinctively, she moved back, but she had nowhere to run, high in the sky, on the dragon's back. She almost fell. Maelia contorted in midair, first trying to throw off the dragon, who had once been her brother and now served the Night King. When that failed, she launched a counterattack. Meanwhile, Visenya fought to stay on her back without being crushed. Flames flashed beside her, and she only moved further and further, at one point losing her footing.

She looked down. They were so high up that the undead were blending into a single mass, and she couldn't even tell if they were moving. A wing struck dangerously close to her head, and she instinctively closed her eyes. Then she felt them suddenly plummet. Her legs, which had been dangling almost unconsciously before, now found themselves above her head, which wasn't much better.

As they almost reached the ground, another dragon violently collided with them - she couldn't tell if it was Rhaegal or Drogon, because they hit the ground immediately afterward, and snow flew up around them. At least she knew that whichever it was, it had knocked off what had once been Viserion.

She looked up and was horrified to find the undead clambering over Maelia, who couldn't shake them off, because she didn't want her to fall. She quickly climbed higher, to her usual spot. Just as she caught spikes, Maelia leaped into the air - hardly, as the undead circled her like ants. Once she'd managed to rise high enough to prevent more from entering, she spun around in midair several times. Just before one of them was about to grab Visenya's leg, she managed to knock a few off, but some stubbornly held on.

When they stopped spinning in the air, she turned back, realizing it wouldn't be so easy. This conviction was further confirmed when she saw them plummeting straight towards the castle walls.

Somewhere above, Drogon and Rhaegal were fighting Viserion, she could hear their roars and Viserion's utterly strange voice.

She watched in horror as they approached the walls, certain they were about to crash into them. She looked up to see Drogon, who had just ripped open Viserion's neck, his claws still clinging to him like Rhaegal's. Now he was staring at them, as if torn about who to help.

But she had no idea what happened next, because then Maelia slammed into one of the towers sideways, the force of the impact throwing her off her back. The last thing she remembered was falling onto the battlements.

***

She felt someone shaking her shoulders. She probably would have felt herself still lying on the stones if her whole body hadn't ached. She groaned and rolled onto her side, moving her arm despite her body's immense protest.

"Visenya, we have to get up. We have to get up." Missandei's familiar voice said, and only then did everything that was happening come back to her.

The battle. She'd lost Viserion. She'd fallen from the dragon. She's on the battlements. The battle is still going on. As soon as the situation hit her, the pain subsided - at least for now, while the adrenaline kept her going.

"There's no time." It was also a familiar voice, one she'd longed for, one she'd worried about before the battle, and now anger flooded her again.

"I'll get up myself." she muttered, finally opening her eyes.

She recognized the voices clearly - Missandei and ser Arthur were crouching beside her. She couldn't do as she said, because as she started to stand, she felt a hand gripping one shoulder tightly, and two, with a looser grip on the other, helping her to her feet more quickly.

For a while, she didn't even know where they were pulling her. When she realized they were taking her from the walls into the castle, she wanted to resist, to look back one more time to see where her children were, to see if they were alright, but she couldn't fight them. They began to descend the stairs quickly, so quickly that she almost tripped over her own feet.

"What happened?" Missandei asked her, still holding one of her arms in case she stumbled.

"I fell." she said what was obvious to everyone, but she couldn't afford to explain at the moment. Especially since she would have to start with the fact that she had lost Viserion.

The lower they went, the more they slowed, until they finally stopped on the stairs. Not because of some disturbing noise nearby, but because of... silence. A silence that was now far worse than any sounds could have been. She wanted to lean out and see what was happening, but ser Arthur's arm stopped her.

"What-?" she asked in a whisper, but even so, the moment the words left her mouth, he covered it to keep her from saying anything more.

Nothing irritated her more than her ignorance and the feeling of being stuck here with him. She deserved at least an explanation, not a long, tense silence during which only he discretly peeked from behind the wall.

"They're here. They're futzing around the corridors and chambers. We move quickly, but quietly." he whispered finally, and without giving them a moment to prepare, he simply pulled Visenya after him, finally removing his hand from her mouth - or rather, she pushed it off, frustrated, almost stumbling from the sudden tug.

She tiptoed to avoid making any noise on the stone floor with her heels. For a moment, her heart leaped into her throat when she saw the back of one of the undead through the broken door, but she stifled a sound of fear. Aside from the time one of them had almost grabbed her leg while she was still on Maelia, she'd never been this close to one of them in person.

They managed to cross that corridor and turn into another. She didn't know where Ser Arthur was leading them, she didn't remember these places, she probably hadn't even been there before. Besides, the castle was enormous, it would be hard to memorize its entire layout in such a short time. She could only trust that he knew where they were going. And she could only assume that they were going to some 'safe' place, if there was one. It was supposed to be the crypts, but they were certainly still a long way from there.

The undead made occasional sounds, but she'd learned to ignore them, otherwise she'd end up falling over, constantly distracted. At some point, she couldn't ignore them anymore, not when the sounds were coming towards them. From across the hall.

There was no time for stealth, as one of the undead caught the others' attention, and thus everyone was aware of their presence.

"Down." she heard a soft curse escape ser Arthur before she was pulled in a different direction than the one they'd been heading. On the stairs, they encountered a single undead climbing up, but he quickly dispatched it.

"You think they're not down there?!" she shouted at him, looking back and grabbing Missandei's hand as she ran to keep them together.

"Better this than being stuck upstairs with an undead dragon!"

"I would argue!" she shouted back, but didn't try to break free.

Truthfully, neither place was good. It was more important to keep moving, not to be caught or surrounded.

Finally, they ran into one of the larger chambers, which had two exits. They closed the door behind them, hoping the undead wouldn't see them enter. Neither said a word, lest they be overheard. Visenya gripped Missandei's hand tighter and moved deeper into the chamber, to the window.

For a moment, everything that had happened in the arena in Meereen flashed through her mind. When they were surrounded, they thought they had no chance. They stood exactly the same way, clutching each other's hands so tightly it was almost painful.

"Valar Morghulis." even Missandei had said the same thing then.

This time, Visenya couldn't bring herself to say that they wouldn't die here today. Because she wasn't sure of anything anymore. Or at least, she couldn't say anything until they looked at each other. When she saw the fear in her friend's eyes, the unconscious search for support, comfort... Or perhaps even acceptance of her fate.

"This isn't the end." she said quietly, squeezing her hand with her other.

"Not for you." she replied, which stunned Visenya. Her throat tightened, and even if it hadn't, she wouldn't have known what to say. "My greatest dream was not to die in chains - you fulfilled it long ago. I promised I would always be by your side, that I would give my life for you if necessary."

"Missandei-" she was interrupted by a blow on the door, which nearly pierced the wood. "Don't you dare-"

"I won't protect you like ser Arthur. I'm no knight, but I can slow them down, I'll give you a chance-"

"I forbid you." she interrupted. Tears began to well up in her eyes again that night. She hadn't even noticed the knife the girl held. "There's no need, we'll all run-"

"And they'll run after us. That way, they'll focus on me."

Another blow to the door, of which less and less remained. Ser Arthur abandoned his attempts to block it, returning his focus to the task of getting Visenya out of here. He grabbed her arm, but she remained where she was, clutching Missandei's hand tightly.

"You're like the sister I never had. And the last hope for this world. You'll be a great Queen, the best, I truly believe in that. Make sure not harm a hair on her head." she said the last sentence to ser Arthur. She raised her knife and cut Visenya's hand, causing her to involuntarily let go, clutching the slightly bleeding area.

"No, Missandei! I forbid you, come back!" she shouted after her, as if completely oblivious to the fact that the door would soon let a horde of undead in. "Let me go! I hate you! You're letting her die! Save her! I command you!"

She tried to pull away, to run toward her friend, but she didn't stand much of a chance. Especially when, for lack of any other option, ser Arthur had thrown her over his shoulder to escape. She continued to thrash. She punched him in the back, kicked her legs, tried to wrench herself free, all the while screaming for her dearest friend. Another person she was losing in such a short time.

She didn't know how long he carried her like that. She was too focused on calling him names and trying to break free. Finally, he set her down, pressing his back against a wall. He covered her mouth again to stop her screaming, but this time he also pulled her to his chest, covering her other ear with his free hand. So she couldn't hear the screams. Instead, there was his racing heartbeat and breathing, which he controlled far too well for the situation they were in.

They stood like that for a few minutes, and then he slowly removed his hand from her ear, still listening. For a long time, there was silence, broken only by slow, heavy footsteps. Then a thud on the door - not hard, as if someone had accidentally walked in. A pause, and then another thud.

It was immediately clear they wouldn't let this go, they would definitely enter that room.

Ser Arthur pulled her toward the window. It was low, and there were sacks of something lying below, already covered with a layer of snow. It would be even easier to get down. He yanked open the window and glanced around the courtyard once more.

"Get out." he said, already pulling her to help her out.

"Are you crazy? You betrayed me, you killed my friend-"

He glanced at the door, which they were still stubbornly banging on. And they wouldn't last long.

"And I swore to protect you, so get out." she resisted, but he forced her against the window.

The cold air immediately hit her face. One glance down was enough, and she struggled even harder to keep him from pushing her out.

"Your words are worthle-!" she didn't finish, because at that moment she felt herself tilting backward, and that's when she was thrown out the window. She quickly hit the snow-covered sacks and rolled to the ground. It was nothing compared to falling off the dragon, but it left her in shock.

And she was angry. Before she even got up, she glanced up, but didn't see him in the window. For a moment, she wanted to scream, but then her blood ran cold.

She's alone here.

She didn't look back at all, and when she heard the sounds of fighting nearby, she stood up even faster than she thought she could. She could more or less pinpoint where she was. She headed in the only direction that came to mind: the Godswood.

She glanced back every few moments to see if anyone was following her. As soon as she reached the Godswood, she ran into the trees. She slowed down because of the thick layer of snow, which made her have to lift her legs high. Finally, she stopped behind one of the trees, leaning her back against its thick trunk.

She glanced back, and when she saw no one was there, she collapsed to the ground. She was shivering, not even from the cold, though that might change when the snow soaked her clothes. She couldn't care less when she had no idea what to do next. She heard a roar piercing the air, and as she looked up, she saw the silhouette of one of the dragons flying over the Godswood through the treetops. She should be somewhere up there, not here, that wasn't the plan.

She dreaded to think what was happening to Viserion now, or if any of her other children had been killed or wounded. Were they fighting their brother? Searching for her? They must be terrified...

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. This was the Long Night that the she was to bring morning? She had no idea how. She was alone here, and she couldn't fight. She drew the Valyrian steel dagger Arya had given her. She ran her fingers slowly along the blade.

'From my blood shall come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire.'

"What can I do...?" she whispered, tilting her head back again.

She had been on the brink of death many times. Many times she didn't know what to do, if she could do anything at all. But now it was worse. Until now, she had always been driven by the thought that greater things were destined for her, that she couldn't simply die, that she would surely find some way to save herself. She was just as certain that she wouldn't die tonight, after all, she had a destiny to fulfill.

But now? When this was happening? She didn't know what to do. She wasn't even so sure she would survive. Would everything she had worked for all these years to make the world a better place vanish with her death? Would the weight she carried on her shoulders finally crush her, right here, right now?

She was about to burst into tears, but then she heard footsteps in the snow and quickly covered her mouth with one hand to avoid making a sound that would draw attention to her. She didn't dare look, afraid whoever it was would notice her. Footsteps echoed on either side of her and approached far too quickly. Her heart leapt into her throat, but she remained silent, her other hand gripping her dagger tightly, if she had to defend herself.

The moment the first footsteps passed her was the worst. They were the White Walkers. She felt as if one of them would turn around and notice her, and that would be the end of her. One of them walked almost right past her tree, and she froze when she saw him stop. Those few seconds she stared at him, wondering if he would turn around, were some of the longest seconds of her life. Similarly, perhaps she had never felt such relief as when she saw him leave.

Though the tension didn't leave her at all, as she was still in a hopeless situation. Even more so when she saw the Night King himself. Fortunately, he didn't see her.

That was the plan, they were supposed to lure him here, to Bran, so that was definitely where they were headed. But what now? Were those who were supposed to protect him still alive?

She knew she couldn't sit here and wait for everything to end. But what was she supposed to do? She couldn't fight, she wouldn't do much, she wouldn't help. She had no chance against the White Walkers, much less the Night King. Perhaps only if, by some miracle, she managed to sneak up on one from behind-

The sound of clashing swords. And another. It started suddenly, she hadn't expected to hear it so close. She couldn't see what was happening because there was too much distance and too many trees between her, but she knew someone was dueling, either a White Walker or the Night King.

She had to do something. She always found a way out, her whole life had led her to this moment, so she couldn't bone out now.

They would survive. They would return south. They would kill Cersei and every single one of her supporters. She would take rightfully her's Iron Throne, once and for all, and rule. It didn't matter who else betrayed her, who she lost. She would achieve this goal even if it meant moving heaven and earth. There was no other option. But first, this nightmare must end.

Finally, she began to rise from the ground, but at that very moment, she heard a strange sound behind her. She immediately fell to the ground. At the very last moment, because immediately afterward, she heard an icy blade slice through the tree she was hiding behind. A moment's delay, and she would have been literally cut in half.

She spared a quick glance back at the White Walker as she rose to her feet, practically slipping because of the snow everywhere. She retreated behind another tree, seeing him raise his weapon again. She glanced around quickly, seeing another one already interested in her presence, ready to kill her.

She turned in the direction she'd seen the Night King coming. The direction from which she could still hear the sounds of fighting. She ran there, occasionally glancing over her shoulder to see how close the White Walkers were behind her.

When she got close enough, she finally saw that it was Jon, dueling the Night King. And it looked like he was doing well, that he had a chance. And if they destroyed him, it would all be over. The entire army would collapse like a house of cards.

Everything was going well until she saw the Night King suddenly trip him. And she was slowly running out of escape. There were even more enemies ahead of her than behind her, nowhere to retreat. Time seemed to slow down for a moment. She felt as if she could hear her own breathing as she looked around, desperately searching for a solution, anything she could do.

The only thing that stood a chance of doing anything to the Night King, and the one she held in her hand the entire time, was the dagger. There was no way she could even get close to the Night King while practically surrounded by white walkers. Her best... or rather, only chance, was what she had just done.

She threw it.

The dagger flew just over the Night King's shoulder, grazing him with its tip, chipping only a fragment of his icy flesh as he swung, hoping to kill Jon.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. Valyrian steel cuts easily, clean.

Jon reached for the sword that had fallen from his grip and was about to prepare to block or dodge, but then everything ended.

From the point where the dagger had grazed him, the Night King's entire body froze, as if covered in another layer of ice, and then crumbled. Like ice falling on a stone floor shatters, like when glass shatters. And right after him, the same thing happened to the white walker, who had already swung at Visenya. And then another. Each one of them crumbled into tiny pieces of ice - almost dust - some of which fell to the snow, while the rest were carried away by the wind.

For a moment, she was at loss of breath.

It's over. Truly over.

She placed her hand over her heart, only now feeling it pounding like crazy. She fell to her knees and breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in hours. Everything was over. She survived. She was here.

One war over. They won. She hadn't failed.

She barely heard the sounds of her children, which she could have seen when she looked up at the sky. Drogon was closest, lowering his flight and landing, crushing several trees in the process, but that didn't matter to her. He laid his head - blood on his muzzle - beside her, as if to comfort her that everything was over, that everything would be alright.

Nothing mattered. She didn't even notice the tired Jon, who wanted to approach her, but hesitated when he saw Drogon lying down next to her. Or Bran, who was not far away, for whom the Night King came to kill. For a moment, even all that she had lost didn't matter. What mattered was what had survived.

Soon they would see the sun in the sky. Even after the longest night, the sun must rise eventually. And with it would come the summer that would never end.

~

No, it can't be her fault. She didn't do anything wrong, quite the opposite - she did everything she could. It's not her fault that he... It was him. It was his doing. She doesn't know what he told her, how he manipulated her, what lies he had to tell her to make her believe him.

She sighed heavily, her breath shaking, finally lifting her head from where she'd been resting it on her hand as she sat at the table on the ship. It's not over yet. They escaped, but anyone can be found. If there really is such a bond between these girls, it might be even simpler than it seems. Mae doesn't remember anything, but Osha does. All they need is for her to regain her connection to the Force and reach out to Elyssa, then there's a chance she'll sense where she is.

And she won't be alone. They'll find them both, and the matter will be resolved quickly. At least that's what she'll tell herself.

* * *

Even though she was exhausted, Lys couldn't sleep a wink at night, or at least not enough to matter. She knew she had to finally trust herself, but she couldn't. How could she trust a murderer? She'd let her emotions take over, and they'd always told her not to, to find peace even in the greatest storm.

She agreed to train, yet she was afraid of the first time she'd have to reach into the Force. She hadn't done so since killing Sol. She was afraid. If she'd used it for something like this, what else would she find the strength for? Especially after learning how important it could be. She thought she'd accepted the fact that she couldn't bring him back to life, but that didn't help her regain her composure. Or maybe she'd just convinced herself she'd accepted it? Maybe deep down, she was still fighting her emotions, but to feel nothing, not peace.

She closed her eyes, but the mux remained. It wouldn't go away just because she 'watched' the void.

She sighed and looked ahead again.

Many things frightened her now. But ironically, none of them was the ocean that stretched before her. Almost every wave that reached the shore crashed not only against the stones but also against her feet. Her eyes darted from wave to wave, from a bird that occasionally flew over the water to a stone that briefly emerged from beneath the waves, only to be immediately drowned by them again.

And what now?

"Hungry?"

She heard a now-familiar voice behind her, but she didn't turn around, even though her eyes finally stopped darting across the landscape. They settled on the sun, which hadn't fully risen yet.

"No." she replied curtly, which wasn't entirely true.

But... She felt good where she stood. She could pretend that everything had stopped in time, that she didn't have to do anything. The waves washed steadily over her shoes, everything was as it had been, the world hadn't been changed by that one death. Maybe if she stood here long enough, she could achieve that balance too?

Despite her answer, she heard him approach her. She glanced down at the bowl he held out to her as soon as he stopped beside her. She saw peeled fruits, cut into pieces, and two waffles, practically identical to the waffles she'd often stolen from the temple cafeteria as a child. She still remembered the way Yord had looked at her when she knocked on his door again, holding two waffles with powdered sugar and fruit in a container she'd hidden under her coat. But despite his principles, he never turned down the extra sweets she'd stolen from the kitchen.

He knew. And he never told me anything. He lied to me just like the rest. Maybe every death was deserved. After all, I don't know what all those Jedi could have had on their consciences.

She looked at the bowl for a moment longer, then at Qimir's face, and turned her head away, clearly showing she didn't want to eat. Her stomach might be eager for something, but she wasn't sure if she could swallow it.

She waited for him to say something. Ask her what was going on, anything. But he said nothing. She felt his gaze on her, even as she heard the soft thud of the bowl being placed on one of the larger stones. She still didn't turn until he forced her to. He took her chin and turned her face so she finally looked at him. He still didn't say anything, just was there. Right there, watching, waiting for her to say something, not just dryly answer his questions.

"I'm afraid." she muttered, breaking under the intensity of his gaze. She withdrew her face, looked away again, and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Of what?"

She fell silent again. She felt like this was still the same problem she couldn't resolve. Maybe she's tiring him with her constant talking about it? Maybe she should have gotten caught? Faced the consequences, and then it wouldn't bother her so much? Or even at all? No. How should other murderers judge her actions? Perhaps even worse ones than her, because they arrogate to themselves the role of defenders of the galaxy.

"I can't think. Not without going back to..." she began, but stopped. She thought he'd interject, say something, and she wouldn't have to say anything more. But he waited. She didn't need to turn to know he was staring at her. She didn't know whether it encouraged or discouraged her to speak. "I'm afraid of what they'll do to them." she didn't need to say who she was referring to, to make it clear to them both. "What if they find us? I'm afraid of... myself."

"They won't hurt them, they're too important. And if somehow they find us and we don't have time to leave, we'll face them together." he replied rationally. "Why are you afraid of yourself?"

He was so... calm.

She would give anything for that peace, for that balance. Her insides were like the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore, the rocks, and sometimes even crashing against each other. He, on the other hand, was like a lake. Sheltered by trees, or the one that was a little further on the island, surrounded by rocks. The wind hardly stirs it, it seems a much safer place than the ocean.

"What I'm capable of. How far my emotions can push me when I can't control them." she replied, her gaze fixed on the horizon. If she could have even a shred of his peace, perhaps she could close her eyes for a moment and not think about anything.

"If you're hoping for some miraculous solution, there is none." she was about to sigh in resignation at these words, but then Qimir continued. "The one that does exist is utterly mundane. Emotions make us human, whether Jedi, politician, worker, or anyone else. It's your fear of them that shatters you."

She glanced at him for a moment. She wasn't sure whether to believe it, after all, she'd learned differently her entire life, and besides, she hadn't dealt with emotions that were difficult to control, and certainly not as often as she had recently. Pushing them aside, meditating, clearing her mind - it had never been a challenge.

And now? In the past, she hadn't had to face anything like this. It was easy to believe this was the right path when it wasn't put to the test.

"Let them come, and they'll go away in time." like her, he turned and looked at the vast expanse of water spreading out before them. "Like the waves. They crash onto the beach and then retreat." he took her hand and lifted it to his chest, where she felt his heart beating steadily, rhythmically. She closed her eyes for a moment, it perfectly captured the peace she longed for. "If you need to grieve, then do it. You want to cry - cry. You're happy - you can show it. Don't be afraid to feel."

She opened her eyes again and frowned, feeling him pull her down. But she sat down, as he clearly wanted. She crossed her legs and didn't protest, simply waiting to see what he would do next.

He placed her hand flat on the sand but didn't remove his. He remained close, and she was grateful for that.

"Close your eyes and feel."

She looked at him for a moment longer, then, as he asked, closed her eyes. She was afraid to reach out to the Force, but she broke through within herself at his encouragement and the feeling of closeness. The ocean waves, their movements, even the depths she had so feared until recently. A whole separate ecosystem, the life that unfolded there. The sand, the rocks, the sun that warmed it all and, even more importantly, allowed the plants to live. Countless living creatures and inanimate matter, but everything essential, everything with its own reason for existence, was clearer than when she saw it with the naked eye.

Everything lived, coexisted, created a world, seemed in balance, but when you reached deeper than most could, into the Force, you felt an imbalance. It was hard to put a finger on, because everything fit together, life unfolded, so how could you explain the imbalance? Was it just an illusion? Or perhaps something beyond consciousness, impossible to understand?

She focused on what she yearned for: peace. She heard her racing heartbeat so loudly in her ears, as if someone were speaking directly into her ears. The same with her breathing.

She thought of him, of how he maintained balance despite everything. She didn't have to hold her hand against his chest to feel his heart. It could calm her for some reason. She could focus on that, and that alone. She didn't even feel the gentle smile touching her lips.

Seeing this, Qimir himself smiled and finally removed his hand from hers. He sat for a moment longer, then was about to stand, but he noticed a very brief grimace that crossed her face.

At that moment, her mind began to wander, something she couldn't explain. It was as if something was drawing her in. It wasn't like anything else on the island, or even on the entire planet. It was... Cold, furious, but also patient and intelligent. It couldn't be a plant or an animal, but a more evolved form of life. It had ambitions, desires, emotions. Powerful emotions.

"Lys?" Qimir said, seeing that frown on her face for the second time.

The figure was hiding, but for some reason she could sense it. For a moment, it even seemed to her that the creature wanted her to see it. The entire figure was in darkness, she couldn't even be sure of the shape of its face, or if it even had one. But the eyes... Red-yellow eyes seemed to pierce her to the bone. Her breath caught in her throat as the eyes stared directly at her, literally cutting through her soul.

From the outside, it didn't look alarming, until the rocks they sat among on the beach began to crack, as if unable to withstand the strain. The wave that was supposed to wash over the shore instead intensified, reaching right up to them.

"Lys!"

She heard the familiar voice only after she felt a touch on her shoulder and another hand lifting hers from the ground, even though the order was actually reversed.

She opened her eyes, but for a moment her head felt so light she felt like she was about to faint. She would have, even if she hadn't remembered she needed to breathe - and nothing was choking her throat anymore.

"What was that?" he asked. 

Still trembling, she looked ahead at Qimir, who knelt directly in front of her. He took his hand from her shoulder for a moment to brush her hair away from her face. Lys' hands tightened in the fabric of his shirt, but she quickly began to loosen her grip, forcing herself to remain calm.

I fancied that, it didn't happen. It could be anything, it might not even exist, it might be a ghost of the past, the future. Anything. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter...

"I don't know." she finally replied, looking at him. "It..." It wants me. "...it was as fleeting as a breath."

She lied.

What was she supposed to say? She had no idea what it was, how could she describe it? That was more feelings than images, it wouldn't lead anywhere.

"You're tired. You're not sleeping, not eating." for a moment, he hesitated whether to move even closer, whether to wrap his arms around her. He didn't. If she needed him, she would reach for him. He turned and half-rose to pick up the bowl of food he had placed on the rock at the beginning of their conversation. "Rest, eat, lie down. You don't have to worry about anything, you're safe."

But he didn't doubt for a moment that she hadn't told him everything.

Lys nodded, staring at the food he'd thrust into her hands. She didn't say a word until Qimir stood up.

"Thank you." she said finally, looking up.

She didn't follow him with her gaze as he walked away. Only after a moment, when she was sure he'd walked further away, was she about to turn around, but then her gaze landed on a crack in the rock that had definitely not been there before. She began to look around and saw that this wasn't an isolated incident.

This... She did this?

She raised her hand to her cheek, feeling it wet, though she didn't know why. Much like some of her clothing.

Rubbing her cheek, she felt a roughness on her palm. She looked at it, palm slightly grimy with sand. It began to tremble as she thought about the possibility that this could be her doing, and she hadn't even realized it. When had this happened? When she had seen this figure?

She wiped her hand on her thigh and took a deep breath. She looked at the food again.

Qimir was right. She was sleepy and hungry. She will think about all this when she feels better. If it still bothers her then.

~

-> general masterlist -> Star Wars masterlist

"I start to regret wearing it though, I'm boiling in it." she added, grabbing the hem of the neckline and tugging it a few times.

"Don't be dramatic, we run ninety minutes in it and are okay." Riano passed her, and all three of them started walking down the corridor.

"Sweaty, not 'okay'." she murmured, for what she got a soft elbow in the side.

Anastasia might have been half-spanish, but when it came to weather, she was much more of a russian. She grew up in Moscow, spending long hours in the rink, where no matter the weather was cold. But it took just a few minutes into training to get hot, get rid of a sweater and skate only in a training t-shirt. Every time she went to a warmer country, she felt hotter than others. And didn't even have time to get used to the temperature, as there was soon time to get back.

But even her look better matched colder places, unlike Riano. They were very similar, yes, when Shakes looked at them right now, side by side, he once again laughed at himself, that he thought they might be a couple. Yet, at the same time, Anastasia's skin tone was much lighter than Riano's, her eyes were blue almost like his, just slightly lighter. Even her hair was lighter, much more brown, than his black.

He also had purple highlights on hair. They weren't done at the hairdresser at first. She just turned sixteen, on a tear in her first senior season, just winning European Championships, when they made a bet. For some time she wanted to give his hair some highlights, but he always said: 'No. Absolutely no, Nastya'. But she never backed down, and then he said that if she wins the World Championships, he'll let her do it.

And she did. And he had to spend a few hours in the kitchen, when she was playing with his hair, thinking if she should add more highlights or not. Riano didn't expect two things: One: Anastasia didn't completely ruin his hair and it looked quite good, considering she never did that. Two: He himself liked that look, and started going to the hairdresser, to keep the highlights.

That day she even posted on her Instagram story a few photos of the process and the final effect. Those photos and much more are still on her camera roll, and probably on the internet as well.

"Hey, it's not that bad. We take a shower after a match."

"Thank God, otherwise I wouldn't be here with you two." she replied to her brother.

"You surely smell like flowers after training." Riano nudged her again.

"Hey, that's an abuse of a minor!" she joked, faking a cry.

"Maybe it's good I showed up, he won't beat you so much." Shakes joined the joke.

"No, now it's two against one, unfair!"

"Oh, is some mischievous older brother jealous?" this time she nudged him, but with her whole side, and Riano pretended the force of a push was so big, that he almost fell on the wall.

"I'm telling mom."

It was so ridiculous, yet she loved it so much. She could forget everything she would have to come back to tomorrow, and everything since she came back to Moscow from Ice shows. Forgot quad salchow she couldn't land, part of the step sequence that still wasn't perfect enough for Eteri, and all other things.

And now? Now it all didn't matter. She wasn't Anastasia Levedeva, Russian Champion and one of the favourites for Olympic gold. She wasn't even a sister of a football star. She was just Nastya. Still a teenager, who wanted to have some time (and liked to tease her brother).

But not everything she could leave behind. When they left the stadium, they went on a walk and quickly ended in a restaurant. She knew this one, this wasn't her first time here. Again she had to keep back a grimace, as soon as she smelled burgers and fries.

It's not like it was out of her diet - basically, she had no diet, only a condition: keep your weight. How? Doesn't matter. She didn't want Riano to worry about her, so she hadn't eaten anything today, so she would be able to eat something when they go to eat out. They always eat out when they meet like that, so luckily she could prepare herself. Riano probably wouldn't say anything now either way, because they were with Shakes, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

She got a burger with salad instead of fries, and tea instead of coke, hiding behind 'I'm on a diet'.

"Come on, diet coke." Riano still tried to get it in her, pushing his own glass, as he sat next to her.

"I said: no. Burger is already a killer for my diet." it wasn't fully a joke, as she felt she may have to burn off that burger at the gym or rink tomorrow.

"Then some ice cream. You didn't even get fries."

"I never do." she pushed the glass away. At the same time, to bring a joyful tone to the conversation she grabbed a fry from his plate and smirked while eating it.

"Yeah, you always steal." he rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance.

"Stolen taste better."

It was a little lie on her side, as she stole them just to stop him from suspecting anything. Enough that he sometimes asked about her weight and... she lied. Always. She remembered what is the healthy weight for her height and answered something around it when he asked. Did he believe it? She hoped so.

"How is it? We also have a diet and the chef tends to get annoyed if we want something unhealthy, but from time to time it isn't bad, is it?" Shakes asked, frowning a little bit, while grabbing his own fry and dipping it in ketchup.

"But you don't balance on a thin blade." she answered, and got serious, more in a professional state. "In figure skating even little weight change may influence abilities. Just like... When growing, foot size changes, meaning longer boots, longer blades, and it may be difficult to keep balance, to land jumps." she paused. "Some don't even drink water on the day of competition to feel lighter." she looked at them both after she said that. "I'm kidding!" she laughed it off. "I can't even remember when and where I heard it."

"Not funny, you scared me for a moment!" Riano rested his elbow on the table, and his forehead on the head, acting as if he got a headache from her talking.

"You're too sensitive, even Shakes didn't believe it." she pointed at him, sitting on the opposite side of the table. "Or did you?"

"I know nothing about it, you could tell me anything." he raised his hands in mock surrender. "But you'd have it harder with my teammates."

"Oh, they're interested in figure skating?" it was visible that she was surprised.

Even Riano's teammates, who knew her personally and spoke with many times, didn't really get into it. They saw one or two of her performances - or maybe some more or tik toks, when Riano, as a proud brother, had to show her off being like: 'see? That's my sister, she's a champion!'

"Who?" Riano spoke up, frowning.

"Tiger and Klaus." Shakes played with the straw in his drink. "Well, at least I think so, they were at some show in Japan this year, so we had to postpone the barbeque at Rasta's house." He lied.

But what else was he supposed to say? 'I saw them running to the locker room to watch something. I peeked, saw some girl ice skating that reminded me of you, and asked like a total idiot 'is she Riano's girlfriend?', and then I learned you're actually his sister and got... I don't even know, a crush?'. Absolutely not. Nor that he checked her Instagram a moment later. She'd think of him like some kind of creep.

"Fantasy on Ice." Anastasia prompted, getting some salad on the fork and eating it.

"You were there?" he already knew she was, but would never say a word about it. Somehow he had to keep the conversation going.

"Yeah." she even smiled at the memories. "Actually, it was my second time there. Great fun, awesome skaters and a gorgeous audience. From one of the fans I even got a plush swan in a... something like my dress from my first Worlds in seniors, sewn onto it. Amazing, a crazy amount of work. It has an honorable spot next to the bear plushie in a dress from one of my junior programs, I got it from the Grand Prix."

"You got many plushies." he pretended to be a little surprised, that people throw plushies on ice.

In fact, he at least knew which dress she meant with the swan plushie. When he searched her name on YouTube, it was the first video, with the most views. 2020 World Championships, which she won and even set a new record. But even he, who knows almost nothing about figure skating, had to say, it made him feel... something. Something he couldn't quite name, but made him agree with people in the comments saying that it's her best program.

It was titled 'Longing', Anastasia wore a blue dress with loose elements that moved beautifully, when she skated. Dropped shoulders, and short gloves, everything in this ombre, mostly light, but intense blue at the ends, material. Someone in the comments wrote what Anastasia herself said about this program. It's about a girl that misses her partner so much, that she's not even imagining skating with him, be she's sure he is there. That explanation added even more depth. When she did crossovers with one hand closed tight, as if holding someone else's hand. How before some jumps she had hands on her waist, as if someone was to help her into the jump. And much more artistic elements, like taking a glove at the end, as if to touch a face, like an ending position, her kneeling softly on the ice, then moving as if one of her hands was on the partner's neck, holding onto him when she lays back.

No wonder she got a record score with that.

"Fans throw them on ice for their favourites just after they finish their performance. A lovely tradition." she explained.

"Add that you don't keep all those plushies." Riano threw this comment in "Even El Matador's house wouldn't be able to keep that amount of plushies."

"So... What do you do with them?"

"Donate." she shrugged. "Most often to orphanages and kindergartens."

"That's so nice of you. All of you, skaters."

"I wouldn't be able to keep them all anyway. But when I was little... I didn't really want to give away what I got. Mom wasn't happy." she admitted, playing with the last piece of lettuce on her plate. "At least you didn't get out through a window to play." seeing her sharing a little bit of her story, he decided to say something about himself. Not that he was proud of running away through a window... but he couldn't say he regrets that.

"It reminds me of someone..." Anastasia nudged her brother.

"Ugh, and why did I tell you that..." Riano shook his head, wishing Anastasia wasn't here after all, or that he at least never told her that.

"Hey, topic started, you have to tell the story now."

They waited for her to say something. She didn't know what, but her mouth opened of its own accord, and words spilled out, words she couldn't control.

"Yer gronzi tirh dozgo. Yer denta ann fekh reshiso darit!" she first addressed the Dothraki. Immediately after her words, the dragon perched on the remains of the fortress walls let out a long roar, underscoring her words. "Ao issarosi hen Dārys Tegorīr daerēdas. Vīlībāzma toliot iksis daor, konīr issi iēdrosa issarosi yet naejot sagon daerēdas. Kessa ziry lēda nyke gaomā?!"

*"You killed my enemies. You gave me the Seven Kingdoms!"* *"You liberated the people of King's Landing. But the war still rages, many people still await liberation. Will you do this with me?!"*

As if it weren't her body, she couldn't control what she would do. Yet she watched with her eyes, breathed with her lungs, felt her heartbeat. She heard the shouts, the cheers, and the steady thuds of spears striking the ground, that those short sentences evoked. She watched them with pride in her eyes, but she felt none of it. She didn't know what had just happened, the effect of what she had seen, and...

She wouldn't have burned a city.

"You betrayed me. You swore your lips will be sealed. I should have killed you along with Varys." she didn't even know who she was talking to until her head turned and Tyrion appeared before her eyes.

Killed Varys? When?

He was clearly terrified, disappointed, and in deep despair all at once. He didn't look the same as she'd seen him, even yesterday.

"You slaughtered a city." he said, trying to sound cold, but a crack had crept into it. Then he grabbed the symbol of his title as Hand of the Queen, ripped it from his clothes, and threw it down the stairs like trash. She felt her brow furrow. "He should have killed you." he added, referring to Varys, of course.

Slaughtered a city? She was the one who did it? No... Impossible. And why would Varys want to kill her? She was only trying to help everyone! Make the world a better place!

"Zirȳla qrīdrughagon gūrogon." she ordered the Unsullied to take him away, most likely to the dungeons.

She waited for nothing more, gazed at the crowd of people devoted to her for a moment longer, then turned and headed towards the ruined castle. She felt her thoughts cease to be her own. Voices rose, shouting that she had done the right thing, that all who did not adore her deserved only death. That only she could make the world a better place, only she knew how. The capital was the first step.

They refused to love her themselves, this should force them to. What was the Iron Throne when she could have the entire world at its feet?

Just like Aegon the Conqueror. After all, his legacy was completely, in every sense, hers. No one could threaten it anymore, no one would take it away. After all, the Iron Throne she could already see at the end of the throne room was hers. She fought for this for so long. She spent years, endured nightmares, just to finally call it her own.

Snow had already seeped through the utterly ruined walls and ceiling, but she didn't mind. When she was right in front of it, she removed her glove and extended her hand toward it. She didn't pull it back. Her hand finally rested on the armrest of the throne. It was worth it. All those efforts, all those lost lives, had made sense for this one moment. For the right person to be in the right place. She ran her hand along the length of the armrest, wiping away the snow, and prepared to sit on her throne, but a familiar voice suddenly interrupted her.

"Was it worth it?"

She turned and saw Robb. She didn't seem to mind that he didn't share her delight. She looked at the throne again, a small smile playing on her lips. She removed her hand and turned fully.

"When I read about it as a girl, how it was made from the thousands of swords of Aegon's fallen enemies... I had a pile of swords in my head, many times larger than me, so high that climbing it would have been a miracle. So many men sought to destroy him, yet he defeated them all-" 'like me' she wanted to add, but then Robb interrupted her.

"I saw the Unsullied slaughter Lannister soldiers in the streets. At your command." she was surprised by how cold his tone was. "They are prisoners, the war is over."

"It is necessary." she replied, a faint smile never leaving her face. But seeing his unconvinced expression, she sighed, then spoke again. "If I were a man, no one would have a problem with me killing my enemies. No one would blame me for doing to King's Landing what Aegon did to Harrenhal-"

"You are not Aegon the Conqueror!" he interrupted, sharper than before. His cold tone was replaced by anger. "You are Visenya Targaryen, a good person who wants to improve people's lives, not take them away if they don't bow low enough!" there was a moment of silence. Robb shook his head, sighing heavily, as if unable to believe what had happened. "Those people were innocent."

"They didn't rebel against Cersei, though they could have." her lips almost pressed into a thin line. She didn't like the way he was addressing her. This wasn't how it should be; he was supposed to be happy for her. She had to prove him right. After all, she always was. And he couldn't lecture her or leave. "These are the same people who cheered your father's death-"

"And the children? You weren't down there, were you? You didn't see all those burned bodies. Go, see, before the wind scatters the ashes, how mothers tried to protect their children to the very end-"

"I didn't make the rules of this game." she interrupted him this time. She was increasingly dissatisfied with his attitude. How could he question her decisions? How could he not see what she saw?

This city was evil. It deserved it. And she was still too kind to them.

"Just because others did it doesn't mean they did good. And that doesn't mean you can only win through cruelty."

"It wasn't cruelty, I freed them." she said quickly. "Those people couldn't be saved, they were corrupted - this whole city was. Now we can build it anew. With people who will love me for everything I give them. For the future. Let's create it for them together." she began to explain from a different perspective. After all, she's still the same Visenya, her goal hasn't changed. She still fights for the good of people, for the future of the world. The only thing that has changed is the vision of the path that leads to that goal - because she's understood that a good heart won't achieve anything in this world. But in the new world, there will only be good, gentle hearts. "We've both made a lot of hard choices, but we did what was right. Duty was more important than what we felt. Now we don't have to choose. I've gotten rid of everything in our path, and now the world will only be a better place."

"How can you know that? How do you know it'll be better?" his voice broke. She didn't know why, his heart seemed to break as he looked at her.

"Because I know what's good." she placed her hand on his cheek and stroked it gently. Her gestures, her smile at him, were so out of sync with what she'd just done.

"I'm sure many feel the same way-"

"They're so small I can't hear them, I can't even see them." she cupped his face and forced him to look only at her. "I'm their only choice. This is my world now, they can live or die in it."

She saw he was still unconvinced. So she moved even closer, pressing her body against his. One hand remained on his cheek, the other rested on his shoulder, squeezing it. She had to do something, had to make him understand. She couldn't be left alone. No matter what. She had given so much of herself; she didn't want to be forced to make a difficult decision if he didn't stay by her side.

"I know it's hard to see something that's never been seen before. But... I love you. We trust each other, you know I can do this, create a good world. You know I'm right. Please." she felt pathetic, pleading, but it was the last thing she had left. "Please, be with me. Don't leave me like all those traitors. Let's build a new world together, the one we want."

"You're my Queen. Even if the world starts to crumble, I'll only look at you."

She smiled, feeling his hand wrap around her waist. Everything was alright. She needn't have worried, he loved her, and somewhere deep inside, he knew she'd done the right thing. Once they created a new, better world, he would be by her side, even if everyone else betrayed her. He knew what loyalty meant.

He leaned in and kissed her, which she immediately returned. She even put her hands in his hair, something she always liked to do, it was so soft, just like his lips-

She opened her eyes, tearing away from him. She felt a searing pain in her chest, as if something had pierced her flesh. Her breath trembled, almost impossible to draw. She looked down and... it wasn't imagination, the dagger was buried in her chest, hilt-deep. In an instant, she felt warmth spread throughout her, she could have sworn she felt the life draining from her along with it.

No, she couldn't die. Not now, not when everything had ended well, when she could finally be happy... Especially not at his hands, he...

He had betrayed her too. In the most awful way. She hated him.

She couldn't stand. She didn't want to surrender to death, she had escaped it so many times, but it finally seemed to catch up with her. Her legs gave way beneath her. She felt his arms still supporting her, but he fell to the ground with her.

The exact moment her body hit the ground, she sat upright in bed with a silent scream.

Her heart was pounding furiously, and just moments ago she'd felt it stop. She placed a hand on her bare breast, pressing it tightly. She was okay, alive, everything was fine. Was it... just a dream?

She ran her other hand through her hair, tilting her head back. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When her heartbeat had calmed somewhat, she glanced to the side to see if she'd woken Robb with her sudden outburst. Fortunately, she hadn't. He was sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of what she'd just experienced.

It had to be just a dream. He would never kill her. Besides, she wasn't cruel. This person in the dream... She looked like her, but she didn't speak with her voice. She wouldn't do something like that, wouldn't burn down a city, wouldn't kill innocent people. That wasn't her. She didn't act like that.

She laid back down, facing him. She played with the hair on his chest for a moment, then ran her hand through his hair, resting her hand on his cheek, in which he snuggled in in his sleep. Sensing it, she smiled softly. They love each other. Not all her dreams have to mean something. People have nightmares, this must have been one of them.

She moved closer, snuggling into him, threw a leg over his hip, and placed his hand on her waist. This is her safe haven, she can't let anyone take it away.

* * *

The sun rose far too quickly. Before she knew it, the slow morning and the conversations just after waking had turned to dressing, preparing for a hard day, and perhaps an even harder night. She was finishing buttoning up her white cloak, the one identical to the black one she'd worn when she entered Winterfell. Then she remembered something that had been nagging her for so long, something that kept recurring.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the clasp she'd had since she'd been in Meereen. Without a word, she walked over to Robb and fastened the clasp for him. He looked surprised for only a moment, then reached into his pocket himself.

"May I?" he asked, holding up the silver necklace she'd briefly thought she'd lost.

She turned and lifted her hair, which she hadn't yet tied. He fastened the necklace around her neck, and she immediately tucked it under her clothes, making sure she wouldn't lose it and keeping it close to her.

"For a moment, I thought I was crazy."

"I said I believed in fate." she turned back to him and rested her hands on his chest. "Some dreams come true." she gave him a gentle flick on the nose.

'If all that has happened to me isn't a sign that I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms, I don't know what else it could be. If not fate, how else to explain it?' she had said it when they first met.

'"Do you believe in fate?"

"Yes."' - and that echoed between them later, in the cave, just before they began extracting dragonglass. He hadn't expected then that they might share the same views on the matter. And in fact - among other things - the thought that he had survived for a reason allowed him to move forward.

"You’re an extraordinary woman, has anyone ever told you that?" he asked, gently cupping her face, and instead of returning the nose-pinch, he kissed her right on the tip.

"Quite a lot of people, but coming from you, it sounds best."

This brief moment together ended far too soon for her liking. She was left alone, surrounded by people who, for the most part, still didn’t look kindly on her. She didn’t need their love, but even a little gratitude would be welcome. It would give her confidence when the Long Night comes, which would most likely be today.

She stood with her hands resting on the wooden railing. At the same time, all this made her think twice about the conversation she’d had with Baelish before leaving the capital, despite Tyrion’s objections. It made her even more uneasy that the letter requesting a meeting had been delivered by Christer, and Baelish... had warned her against him.

Why would he deliver such a letter? She doesn't believe he didn't know what was inside, but did he knew what Petyr wanted to tell her? Why? Why cast such a shadow over himself? There's no reason to distrust him. He helped her, if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be here.

However... On the other hand, she'd heard the same advice from both of them, just wrapped in different words. Both had told her not to trust anyone. Christer emphasized that everyone was selfish and would betray her at the first opportunity, even without material gain. Baelish, on the other hand, had said that the least trustworthy people were those who would gain the most from you - at which point she snorted, because in her current position, who wouldn't? But she had to swallow one thing and admit, saying: 'At least I'm honest, I can't be trusted, I always act in my own best interests. Aren't those with false loyalty more dangerous?'.

From another perspective, if he's acting in his own best interests, then what he told her must also have some purpose, pushing him closer to his goal. Talk about guessing people's motives, how he always assumes the worst possible reason why people would behave the way they do, and say what they say. And then he asks himself how well that reason explains it.

He just wanted to boggle my mind... Tyrion was right, I shouldn't have gone to that meeting.

"Visenya?" Missandei's voice echoed beside her, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Yes?" she let go of the railing and turned to her, a faint smile on her face.

"Jon Snow would like to speak with you. He asked if you had a moment. If so, he'll be waiting in the crypts."

She frowned. They'd exchanged no more than a few words. What might he want to talk to her about? And why didn't he come directly to her? Why in the crypts?

"Alright, I'll see what he has to say." she nodded. Then she took a step closer and grabbed Missandei's hand. "How are you? We haven't had much time to talk lately."

"I've been... busy."

From the faint blush that spread across Missandei's face, she immediately deduced what exactly her friend was up to, and her smile immediately widened. She squeezed her hand a little tighter and moved even closer to whisper,

"Me too." she admitted, wiggling her eyebrows. Seeing Missandei's surprised expression, she quickly added. "I'm glad you're happy. Don't worry, Grey Worm won't let himself be killed by some undead, if only to come back to you."

"I... I don't want to sit idly by." This time, it was Visenya who was surprised.

Is she saying what I think she's saying...?

"Please. I'm not a soldier, but I can't just wait around knowing you're there."

At first, she didn't respond, just pulled her close, squeezing her tightly. She should respect her decision, but she desperately wanted to order her to hide with the other non-combatants, just as she had instructed Tyrion. Her heart would shatter if anyone took her away.

"I'll be on the dragon's back, the safest of all the fighters." she said finally, pulling away but keeping her hands on her shoulders. "You're my friend, no less important than me. Therefore..." she took a deep breath. "I'll respect your decision, but think it over; there's still time." as she spoke, she squeezed her shoulders, as if to reassure her that she would think it through properly. "When this is over, I need you by my side, just like Tyrion."

"I'll be by my side. As always." she assured her.

* * *

Curious about what Jon might want to tell her, she immediately went to the crypts. She'd been there before, so she knew her way around. Though it wasn't a big deal, as she quickly spotted him standing by a statue of a woman, Lyanna Stark.

She immediately assumed this conversation would concern her. After all, she was his aunt, and her father... He did what he did. No amount of previous good deeds would absolve this crime.

"Is that why you wanted to talk with me?" she said, drawing his attention. She stopped beside him, but her gaze was fixed on the statue. "My father... He should never have done that. He started a war that took thousands of lives and killed not only him but almost the entire dynasty. Is that what you want to talk about? I know perfectly well what he did."

"No." Jon replied curtly, turning to her, slowly averting his gaze from the statue. "Your Grace... We barely know each other, but there's something you need to know."

She frowned. She didn't understand what he was saying and wasn't sure she wanted to. Jon was serious, even looking as if it was difficult for him to speak. It filled her heart with fear of what she might hear. If she needed to know something, and it concerned Lyanna Stark, then it meant she had this connection through her father.

But what new thing could he tell her that she hadn't already learned from Ser Arthur?

"Rhaegar didn't kidnap or rape her. They eloped and married in secret. And shortly after he died at the Trident, she gave birth to a son... Lyanna knew that if Robert found out, he would kill that child. So the last thing she did before she bled out on the birthing bed was to hand the boy over to her brother, Ned Stark. To protect him, he raised him as his bastard." he said outright, without dancing around such a serious topic. "My name... My real name is Viserys Targaryen."

If it weren't for the fact that each word he spoke brought increasing shock, she would have cut him short, interrupted, anything. But she just stared, not even sure if she blinked. Her breath was heavy in her chest, and the blood roared in her ears.

It's impossible - her head screamed. How does he know? Who would confirm it?

Her father... She'd rather he was a rapist and a kidnapper, a villain, than someone who left his family out of 'love'. She'd rather think he'd gone mad and abandoned his values than that he'd done it... out of love. True, she'd never heard any stories of any deep affection between him and her mother, but they were friends... He might not have loved her, but what about the children? Didn't they matter?

This... This can't be true... She would know... She would have been told... It's impossible...

"If this were true..." she began cautiously, speculatively, trying to deny what she had just heard. "Then you would be my half-brother."

"I wish it weren't true. But Bran saw it, in his visions. And Samwell found notes in the diary of the septon who married them that confirmed it."

This was evidence, but she couldn't accept it. How could she? This... This turned her world upside down. She would rather not hear it. She would give almost anything for it not to be true, or at least to forget it.

If they were married... Was her parents' marriage still valid? Was it even possible for her parents to divorce? Is... is she...? It didn't even want to cross her mind.

Does anyone else know? Does anyone know this secret that should never have come to daylight? Something no one should have discovered, and so many problems wouldn't have loomed over her. It couldn't be allowed to be spread. No one else could know. But could... could anyone else know already? A single thought entered her mind, and no matter how reluctant she was to delve into it, it unfolded on its own.

If... If Ser Arthur hadn't fought at the Trident, had...? Had he not been completely honest with her? If he was her father's best friend, then if anyone in his circle was supposed to know, it would be him.

She felt a lump tighten in her throat, but it might as well have been her heart.

"That... It would make you the last male member of House Targaryen. The last to perpetuate the line." she said, and then added another thought, with a hesitation that was uncharacteristic of her: "And with a claim to the Iron Throne."

"I don't want that. I never did," he assured her quickly. "I just thought you should know, Your Grace. After all... He was your father." he avoided saying 'our' or anything about them being family, seeing her reaction. Besides, he'd been raised as Ned Stark's illegitimate son, and he still saw him as his father. He didn't feel Targaryen in the slightest, and he never would. Regardless of what his genes say, he was raised among the Starks, and he is a Stark.

He told her this not to try to take her place because he's a man, but because he truly believed she deserved to know. He doesn't know her personality well enough to judge it, but from their appearance alone, you could tell they were completely different. She looks every bit a Targaryen, even moving in a way that suggests royal descent. He, on the other hand, looked completely Stark. And yet, they were siblings, she was his older sister. The people he considers siblings are his cousins.

Regardless, he wouldn't dare take the crown. He didn't know her, but she had come to help them, and even more importantly, in his eyes, Robb trusted her. And he trusted him. Besides, he didn't care. He didn't want to rule, and with that, take responsibility for thousands. He wanted to help others, but not like this. She had spent the last few years gathering strength to fight for the throne. Who would he be to take that away from her?

"What you want doesn't matter." she replied, sharper than she intended, but quietly. As if someone stood just around the corner who would remember every word. "If the world knows, it won't let you decide. Who would the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms choose, given the choice between man and woman? Most don't consider the same values as I do. Most aren't like Dorne. Most don't have a female authority over them like the Reach."

"So the world won't know. I wanted to tell you, Your Grace. And my siblings-"

"A secret isn't a secret when more than one person knows it." she quickly interrupted him, trying to appear calmer on the outside. "We're not close, and I doubt we ever will be. You were raised by the Starks. What's the point of talking about your real parents? What difference will it make? They're dead anyway."

"Forgive me, but as you say: I was raised by the Starks, I have honor. The man I still consider my father lost his head in King's Landing for the truth. Perhaps this approach will kill me someday, but at least some deserve to know the truth." he bowed his head for a moment and wanted to end the conversation, but then Visenya suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"And what then? Hm?" she asked, tilting her head. "You don't want to be drawn into a fight for the crown, Robb won't force you into it, but are you equally confident in the others you'll tell the truth to?" she asked, continuing the matter. "Do you really trust that they won't tell anyone? That it won't unitentionally slip out?"

People here disliked her, she could see that. She didn't even want to think about what might happen if they found out Jon might have a claim to the crown. She wasn't afraid of losing, that wasn't the point. Jon's true identity didn't so much determine whether she would become the Queen, but how it would happen, and above all, how she would think.

Even without the soldiers of Westeros, she would have enough strength to fight for the throne. However, she wanted to avoid using force where it was unnecessary. What would become of her if she gained the crown at the cost of decay her values? Why complicate matters? Especially when you can save yourself so much by simply staying silent.

"Think about it." she said when Jon remained silent. "Once you say it, there's no going back. You don't have to stay silent forever, you can confess it when the war is over, when the situation on the continent stabilizes." she finished, releasing his wrist. "If family is so important to you, and I am your family, then I guess I deserve something too, right?"

She couldn't stand it anymore, and what's more, she felt the crypts were getting very stuffy. She stopped looking at anything and quickly walked out. She couldn't even take a deep breath, not wanting to draw anyone's attention. She felt like one bad look would be enough and everyone would know.

She needed to be alone quickly, but also to speak with Ser Arthur, immediately... As she climbed the stairs, she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus solely on her breathing and her steps. But it was no use, and her thoughts kept veering in directions that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart want to leap from her chest. Until she spoke with Jon, she had been happy. Even a nightmare hadn't mattered so much. And now?

She felt like she was back in Meereen, back when everything seemed to slip through her fingers.

She had kept herself under control while she could still be seen, but as soon as she reached her chamber, she burst into it like lightning. However, she stopped immediately when she saw Tyrion inside. He was standing at the table with a jug of wine, pouring himself a glass, as was his habit. She had to calm down right now, or he would start to suspect something. He's too good at reading her emotions, this time she has to do everything to make sure he fails.

"Your Grace, I've been waiting for you. A message has arrived-" he began, but he was already eyeing her a bit suspiciously, wondering why she'd burst into the chamber so abruptly.

"Could you please call Ser Arthur to me?" she interrupted, also pouring herself wine, more than usual. She tried to do it slowly, at her usual pace. She wasn't sure if it would do any good.

"This is an important mess-"

"Can't this matter wait a moment?" she interrupted again, setting down the jug and looking at him not with irritation, but... with exhaustion. As if she'd had enough and didn't have the strength to argue with him. Asking him to respect her decision without argument.

"And the conversation with Ser Arthur?"

She didn't answer. She bought herself a moment, raising the goblet to her lips, but still nothing came to mind. How could she justify this without sounding suspicious? The very way she pressed it was surely giving him pause.

"I'm your Hand if something's happening, I need to know." he added in a gentle tone. She tried to assume a demeanor as if nothing had happened, but he was clearly worried. And again: she didn't want to tell him everything. She didn't trust him enough. "I will. But this conversation isn't over." he finally said, when Visenya remained stubbornly silent, looking from him to the wine in the goblet, which she had begun to play with.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she sighed heavily and put the wine down. She couldn't drink, she couldn't blind her mind, not now. She sat down on the bed, burying her face in her hands. She should prepare herself for this conversation somehow, because she doesn't even know how to begin. She felt like everything she could think of made no sense.

But how could she gather her thoughts when so much had suddenly, unexpectedly fallen apart? How could she find the right words?

So she sat. Eventually, she removed her hands from her face and rested them on her thighs. Playing with the ends of her gloves, she stared at an undefined point. She didn't feel like Visenya Targaryen, the woman who had challenged the order of the world, but like Maegelle, who wondered if her life had any meaning. Who felt as if she had no past and didn't deserve a future, who existed, not lived.

"You wanted to see me, Your Grace?"

She hadn't even heard the door open as Arthur entered. She felt her heart skip a beat once more this day. On the one hand, she didn't want to start this conversation, she didn't want to accuse the man who was so important to her, but on the other, if she didn't, she would torment herself forever. She had to know the truth. No matter how much it might hurt.

Or maybe he didn't know at all? Maybe her suspicions are unfounded and that's what she'll find out?

"You didn't fight at the Trident, you didn't stay in King's Landing with the King... So where were you?" she didn't move.

She got straight to the point, which caught him off guard, as he'd expected much, but not this kind of conversation. It seemed to him that she didn't like to be reminded that Robert's Rebellion had happened, and therefore she never asked about it, so he didn't talk about it either. Besides, he couldn't speak much about those battles firsthand.

Why was she bringing this up now? Besides, she didn't look her usual self when they spoke, even when she came to him with a concern. More like she was talking to a stranger, even a potential enemy.

"With the prince, your father." he replied, without going into detail, but he had a feeling he knew where she was going.

"He later returned to King's Landing, led the army at the Trident... But I'm not asking about him, but about you. Where were you?" she asked a second time, much more pointedly - not only her tone, but also her facial expression. She practically drew out the question, each word forcefully, with a space between them.

"At the Tower of Joy, Your Grace." he replied in a formal tone, not the relaxed, sometimes joking one that usually reigned between them, especially when they were alone.

"And Lyanna Stark was there too, wasn't she?" she asked, but received no answer. She snorted with a quiet laugh, unable to believe what she was hearing. How could she have been so foolish to believe it was a misunderstanding? "So that's how it was... Instead of protecting my mother and siblings... Or even my father..." now the word sounded like an insult on her lips, as if she were ashamed of being associated with him. "You protected him. Your new prince." she clapped slowly, which only added to her contemptuous tone. "Is this how you try to erase your sins, by protecting me? You knew and you didn't tell me. I will never forgive you, you betrayed me!"

"I don't understand-"

"But I have good news for you! The boy is still alive! You can continue your service and protect him!" earlier, in the crypts, she'd spoken quietly, cautiously, afraid someone might overhear. Now? Now it all seemed to pour out of her. "If you remember Rhaegar so well, then surely you remember the boy too and will find him easily. Here, go!" she rose from the bed and took a few steps toward the door, gesturing at it.

"I didn't even know the child survived-"

He's lying. He definitely knew. He knew and didn't tell me. I should have known.

"Now you know, you can go! You can... Serve the rightful heir to the throne, the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Rightful child, after all, they were married, right?"

"How do-"

Then even that is true...

"It doesn't matter how I know!"

She wouldn't even let Arthur get a word in. She felt as if something was about to burst inside her.

It wasn't enough that she wasn't special. She wasn't the last of her line, the last hope, the last dragon. Perhaps she shouldn't worry about her rights to the crown, perhaps they weren't even her main concern - after all, the dynasty had been overthrown. Only by right of conquest could she gain rights to the crown. But how could she ignore the importance of blood when for years she had called herself the rightful heir to the Iron Throne solely because her father was Crown Prince, son of the King? If she'd been emphasizing it all along, how could she suddenly ignore it?

There was one more question - more than one, actually, but this one had now risen above the rest - that had initially refused to come to her. A question she hadn't shouted, for which she lowered her voice so low that even Arthur barely heard it.

"Am I... a bastard?"

"What...? Rhaegar never divorced Elia. He took Lyanna as his second wife." he sighed. He didn't know what to do.

He never spoke of it, not even because she didn't ask, but because he didn't see the need. What did it matter, ultimately? He didn't even know the child had survived. He did what he did, he wasn't proud of it, but he didn't regret it either. Whether he helped or not, Rhaegar would have done it anyway. At least he stayed with his friend until the end. He never betrayed his trust. But he had failed her.

"I never said your father was perfectly good, that the kidnapping was a misunderstanding, a distortion of history - quite the opposite. I knew what he decided was wrong. Not as it was remembered and written, because... They loved each other. We didn't kidnap her, she agreed to come with us, she didn't want to marry Robert Baratheon."

"So you helped with this... If it weren't for that kidnapping, do you know how many terrible things could have been avoided?! The war wouldn't have happened!"

Who knows, maybe another war would have broken out then? Maybe Rhaegar would have rebelled and led an army against his father, who had gone mad? Or before that happened, Aerys would have destroyed the entire capital with wildfire? That's unimportant in her eyes now, in her opinion, they've destroyed everything.

"I did it for your father, as a friend, the person closest to me. Not for the dynasty. Just as I serve you, as a friend."

"No, you do this because I'm his daughter. Because surely, no traitor will ever be my friend! I don't want to see you, I don't even want to hear about you!"

What could be the worst reason he could have for behaving this way...?

If she can't even trust him, then who can she? That hurt the most. She truly can't trust anyone in this world if even Arthur has betrayed her. Then perhaps she was right when she ordered Varys killed in her dream? His loyalty lies with the people, not with her. How can she know he won't suddenly decide she's unfit to be the Queen and decide to get rid of her? And Missandei? Grey Worm? Tyrion? Robb...? He killed her in his dream... Can she feel safe anywhere in this world? Is there anyone who won't one day turn traitor?

"Leave." that was the last thing she said, looking at him. She turned her back to him and clasped her hands in front of her, adopting the stance of a cool ruler who had never faced him before.

"Visenya-"

"Do not speak my name." she interrupted him, but without a shout. Though her cold tone cut deeper than the desperate, wounded cries. "I remind you that you swore to obey orders. The Queen orders you to leave and never show your face to her."

"That's not the only thing I swore. You know I would give my life for you. I will never abandon you. I swore to protect, advise, and serve you." he said desperately. It couldn't end like this. He hadn't betrayed her, it had never even crossed his mind. He truly believed in her, that she would change the world, and he wanted to witness it, to help. "I love you like the daughter I never had."

Love, how dare he speak of love?

"Leave." she repeated, this time with a lump in her throat.

She treated him that way too, he was like the father she never had. Someone she could always turn to when things were hard, when she didn't know what to do. Someone with whom she didn't have to be strong. Someone who supported her, offered advice, and saved her life many times. Someone who held her like a parent holds a child. Someone with whom she wasn't ashamed of her tears.

And yet, now she held them back.

She waited for him to leave, but nothing happened. She tried to ignore it, telling herself that if she held on long enough, he would eventually leave. And then she would finally be alone. Finally, she would be with no one, no one to doubt. But he wouldn't leave.

"What do you want?!" she turned abruptly. "Tell me, what do you want?!"

"Only to see you on the Iron Throne. Happy."

"Why? I don't deserve it anyway," she snapped, returning to her accusatory tone. Perhaps that was better, it hurt less than the indifference, the coldness.

"Not because of your name, your birth, or your titles. You know you have a good heart. It's a rare thing. You can hide it and deny it, but you know you have it, and that you inherited it from both your parents. And it's precisely because of it that you will be a good Queen. I believe you will even be the best ruler this continent has ever had. With or without me by your side." he finished, lowering his gaze and bowing. "My Queen."

She watched him leave, then turned her back to the door, as if expecting him to re-enter her chambers, and she didn't want to see him. She stood there for a moment, struggling with her thoughts. What should she do? Leave? Where? Why? Stay here? Why, cry? She can't cry for a traitor, she can't feel sorry for someone who never cared about her, it's pathetic. Tyrion will surely come back soon, he can't see her like this.

She placed her hand on her face, the other crossed her chest, supporting the one resting on her face. She covered her eyes and began to breathe deeply. A mirror stood nearby, she refused to even glance at it. Her appearance only reminded her of everything. It was now more of a curse than a source of pride. How could she possibly enjoy her beauty if she owed it to the man who destroyed... Everything?

With his decision, Rhaegar had robbed her not only of her mother and siblings, not just of her childhood or future, but of her entire life. He had decided it even before her mother, in pain and tears, had given birth to her. Because of him, she had had to endure the insults, live in fear, and fight for survival. For a moment, she felt as if, in a fit of rage, she would tear out her hair, scratch out her eyes, and then curse the day Rhaegar Targaryen was born.

But she took another breath. And another. She sat down on the bed, then lay down. She wasn't like him. She wasn't evil. She had sworn to herself that she would free the world from tyrants and make it a better place, she couldn't forget that goal, that single goal. She herself didn't matter, all these hardships didn't matter, she had to focus only on that. Then, perhaps, she would somehow come to terms with the pain that pierced her heart, trying to tear it apart from the inside.

If it weren't for all this... Neither would dragons have been born into the world again, nor would the fate of slaves in Essos have changed. She hadn't thought about that. She was so consumed with despair that she tried to suppress it so no one would think Visenya Targaryen was afraid of something.

~Author's note~

Yes, I changed Jon's name because naming him Aegon in the show was so stupid (Rhaegar already had a son named Aegon). Besides, I like the headcanon about Rhaegar wanting to recreate the original trio and therefore wanting a third child, and for it to be a girl (Visenya).

She was so excited as a child, watching Yulia at the Olympics, in Sochi. Even more, when later observing gorgeous programs by Evgenia or outstanding free skate of Alina at the next Olympics. But what she also watched was how their careers ended. Around the age she was just now or even earlier.

Anastasia didn't feel as if she was going to be burn out soon, or that her body was going to give up. But at Test Skates, she already saw how the tides may change. Until then she was the absolute, outright favourite, another golden girl, another champion. Starting almost perfectly with two seasons in juniors, where she got two golds of Junior Grand Prix, and gold and later silver of World Junior Championships, losing to her teammate and friend, Alexandra. This silver was a loss for her, when other girls dreamed of any medal.

Entering seniors she repeated Medvedeva's feat and finished every international competition with gold. Being barely sixteen she already achieved almost everything in this sport, when for others it took years and even then, they didn't get it. But every win, every performance that gained her title of Russian's favourite, fans calling her Blade Queen or Black Swan (probably not only because she liked to skate to music from Swan Lake Ballet, but also that her surname meant 'Swan'), was occupied by hard work, tears, bruises and other sacrifices.

To get gold you have to be the best at everything, jumps, spins, artistry... You just have to be the full package. Of course she wanted to be the best in the group - especially when they told her she can, with just a bit more work. So... when Alexandra started training quads, she wanted it too. Bigger base value equals more points if she can fully rotate and land them. Maybe she wasn't as focused on quads as Sasha, but wasn't far worse.

Last season wasn't the best for her. She defended her title of Russian Champion and Grand Prix Champion, but got an ankle injury and finished third in both European and World Championships. Just before the Test Skates she thought it all was already far behind her. But then watched the performance of her younger teammate and further friend, Kamila, who just this season came of age to compete at senior level. And she wasn't happy with what people were saying online. Always the biggest threat to the gold medal were her teammates, but this time, she felt much less confident, as she was so close to age of - what people said and she hated when she saw it: Eteri's expiration date. She tried to push it out of her mind, but it came back as soon as she read a praising comment towards Kamila.

She shook her head. Now is not the time to think about it. She's out of Moscow, far from the rink and still far from her first start in the season. She'll think about it later, and show everyone that she's still the best in the women category. She worked so hard since she was seven years old for a reason.

She walked out of the airport building and saw her brother standing against his car, typing something on his phone, but soon he looked up and his eyes met hers. She quickly picked up her pace and ran up to him, dropping her backpack somewhere close to the car and jumped at him.

"Woah woah, you didn't seem this enthusiastic through messages." Riano laughed, catching her of course.

She chuckled too, hugging him for a moment, before letting go and standing on her own feet.

"Because when we are texting, you're mostly annoying." she snapped back. "Hey!" she squealed when he raised his hand and mussed her hair. "Weren't you in a hurry?" she added, while pushing his hand away, and bent over to pick up her backpack.

"Yes, and your little jump will probably cost me a rebuke from my teammates." he answered in the same, joking tone as she used. Then he watched her go over to get to the passenger seat, before getting to his driver seat.

"First of all: All of your teammates adore me. Second: Not 'little' jumps. We both know I jump higher than you ever could."

"I wouldn't be fast-forward to such a conclusion." Riano rolled his eyes. "Fastened your seat belt?" he side-eyed at her, while fastening his own belt.

"Yup, captain headache."

Riano just shook his head, starting the engine. Who does she call a headache? She was his biggest headache even before she injured her ankle, just when he was watching what she's doing. Actually, maybe that will be her new nickname in their chat. Yeah, it would suit her perfectly.

"If you were afraid of me taking a taxi, I could have just run to your apartment, you know? I have the keys." she spoke, interrupting the short silence that fell between them and pulled out her phone. He didn't have to look to know what she's doing, there are only two options: she's becoming a dj or posting a story on her instagram. Or both.

But from hearing a notification from his phone, he guessed the second one.

"Oh, your little legs have endurance to run such a way?" he teased, and when they stopped at the red light he looked at her properly.

While watching her through the screen she looked more... normal. Not that she looks bad in real life, just... He can't shake off a feeling that she's small, too small. Underweighted, he meant. She never admitted that, they even sometimes argued about this, but she never complained. And it wasn't easy to say just by looking, most would probably say she's just skinny, but for him, it was concerning.

He can't recall the time when he wasn't worried for her. He tried to explain to himself that she's living with their mom, and if something bad was happening she'd know and react. And that his sister - just as him - had a whole team caring for her, but somehow, he knew it's not the same. And their mom might have not cared enough. Maybe it's just how they were raised up. After all, Anastasia moved to Moscow with their mom when she was barely seven, and he stayed in Madrid with their father. Two different worlds.

But he will never forget how many times she complained to him, that training is hard, or she's aching. If she had time to complain, of course. The whole year it was often hard to speak with her, but in the middle of competition months? Almost impossible. She typically answered in the early morning or late night.

Sometimes he feels his little sister is working harder than he is.

"I'm surprised the witch even let you come." he added, before she could talk back after his last comment.

"Because I'm her favourite." she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Even if she wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

"Yeah, I watched Test Skates." Riano smiled and looked back at the road, as the light turned to green.

"You actually watched or just saw some tik tok shots and edits?" she raised an eyebrow, looking at him suspiciously.

"Both...?" he teased. "Of course I watched the whole thing. Live, even!"

"Let's say I believe you." she chuckled. "Bet you still can't tell apart jumps."

Wrong, he could tell which one was an axel and somehow caught lutz, just because it was her favourite.

"Bet you still don't know what offside is."

"I know!" she raised her voice a bit, defending herself.

"Because I explained it to you on M&M's!"

"Doesn't change the fact I know what it is." she scoffed and reached to the pocket of his jacket - she knew he kept his wallet there - unzipped it, and took it out. She remembered he usually keeps tickets for a match for her there. "When will there finally be online tickets? Super League wastes so much paper." she took out her ticket. "This should be just a memento, optional thing."

"Yeah yeah, anything else?" He asked, taking his wallet out of her hand. "Maybe cash is also too old-fashioned?"

"Maybe it's just you who is old-fashioned?"

"Ouch. You're right, my almost six years older ass is just so old, I barely know how to use my smartphone. Maybe you could show me how to take a photo?"

"I can show you how to like my new post."

Anastasia was enjoying their little banter a little too much, but to be honest - so did Riano. It was rare for them to see each other not through the screen, that both of them learned to treasure such moments.

Growing up apart was hard for both of them. Not only because them, as siblings, were far away. It also concerned their parents. Anastasia with mom, Riano with dad. Of course they all were talking though a video calls, but actually seeing each other? Holidays, birthdays... But not always, sometimes training got in the way, especially on her side.

Looking back at it, and even at the current situation, Riano recalled his childhood rather sadly, despite having many friends and doing what he loves, with the support of mostly dad.

"You remember when we left dad a note written in cyrillic?" he asked suddenly, confusing Anastasia.

"Not really, just him waiting, frustrated, for mom to come translate it." she admitted, shrugging. Why was he speaking about it right now?

"And we just wrote we love him and pretty please for more ice cream." he chuckled at the memory.

Even these days, when he was visiting father he sometimes liked to mess with him and speak Russian. Through all these years he picked up quite a lot, but still wasn't anywhere near to the level of speaking fluently. Their mother did a much better job with learning Spanish. Still, they mostly spoke with each other in English. Growing up listening to three languages... Yeah, must have been sometimes hard not only for them, but for their parents too.

"Why remind of it now?" she asked, looking over the window, realising that they're almost there.

"Just... Crossed my mind." he shrugged. "Try not to blow anything up, okay?" he added, trying for the light tone, as his thoughts once again turned to the sadder area.

"Key word: try." even before he stopped the car, she had already grabbed her backpack. "I can't wait until I'm eighteen and can live alone. Mom will finally move back to Spain, surely both of them will be happy." she opened the door as if she didn't just say something that was making him a bit sad again. "Don't get your ass kicked by Supa Strikas again, huh?"

"New season - new start."

He reached over to turn up the air conditioning in the car and was about to say something more, but she already closed the doors and disappeared in the building. He wanted to ask if she doesn't mind a third person at their meeting after the match, but course she already left. Yeah, he still didn't ask about, but to be honest... He forgot. Many things were on his head and he didn't put a reminder to do it.

Who tf?: You left so fast, already have enough of me? Lucky you, we might have a special guest at our after-match meeting.

He planned to wait for an answer, but as it didn't come in five minutes, he gave up and started driving again.

"I bet she went straight to the bath tub." he murmured to himself, pulling off to the main road again.

She indeed went to the bath tub rather quickly after entering the apartment, but not as the first thing. First, she threw her backpack on the bed in the guest room - or her room, as she liked to call it. Surprisingly, some of her things were still there. Like leggings, or even a pair of her old skates. She remembered she left them here, because she was already having a new pair waiting for her in Moscow, and those - both boots and blades - were already worn out.

Another thing in the wardrobe were Riano's team jersey, sweatpants, sweatshirt, tracksuit with a zip... Everything she either got or 'stole' from him (not counting the garments she had in her room back in Moscow). Of course, those things were too big on her, but were also so comfortable to sit in after a long day. And made her feel as if he was close.

Before she went to take a bath, she trained for a little while in the living room. Run in place, plank, squats on one leg, stretching, these kinds of things. Also jumped a few times, for example doing an off-ice triple axel.

Only after all that she grabbed a shirt that once belonged to her brother, leggings, and went to the bathroom.

* * *

By the time she saw the message, Riano had already been busy, because he didn't answer her question about who that special guest was supposed to be. She took her place in the front row, looking like a true fan in Barka's jersey and tracksuit. She saw how someone noticed that on the tracksuit were autographs of the members of the team. It had to be the one Riano gave her three years ago. First he said that when they see each other again he will give it to her, and she answered jokingly that she doesn't want it if it isn't signed. She didn't expect to get a tracksuit signed by every member of the team - especially not with a note that they expect her to wear it on training sessions.

Well... She had it a few times, but when she was on ice in her free time, not typical training. And even posted it on her instagram. And still remember some fangirls crying that they want one too, that she has it too good being Riano's sister.

"Are they real?" asked a man sitting next to her.

"Every single one." she smiled softly.

She was used to the fact that most people here didn't recognize her, even though she was a sister of the captain of the team. But she was kind of grateful for that, because in Russian figure skating is very popular and usually when she went out there was someone coming up to her, asking for a photo or autograph.

"Wow... How did you get it? Some contest held by the club?"

"Yeah, something like that." after that she turned her focus to the field.

Maybe soccer wasn't her biggest interest, but when it was concerning her brother, it caused emotions. Maybe not as high as when she watched Yuzuru make a triple axel out of nowhere (she wished to achieve it at such a level one day), but there certainly were emotions.

Especially when the game was even, almost goal for goal, no team dominating.

When it ended in a draw, she watched as Riano spoke with someone from the opposite team, even exchanging jerseys. She frowned and immediately thought: Is this that special guest? She didn't have a clear look, but she could swear she exchanged glances with that boy, when he was looking in her direction during the match (which happened a few times).

On the screen was a woman in a black dress, currently spinning on the ice, in a position he'd probably have to break a few bones to reach. She was holding her leg over her head, before dropping it and going into some choreo sequence or something like that. Out of spin he could have a better look on her face, and he couldn't shake off the feeling that he saw her somewhere before.

The girl moved as if she flew over the ice, and when she entered a jump, it seemed way too simple. But just as she landed it, Tiger let out a breath of relief, so it must have been much more complicated. For him it was hard to even say how many times she spinned in the air, not even speaking about telling apart particular jumps. Everything looked too similar, but commentators were saying different names.

"Who is it?" he asked finally, when the girl on the screen entered another spin.

"Anastasia Levedeva. My personal favourite among all ladies." said Tiger.

"Who's favourite she isn't?" Klaus scoffed. "First season as a senior she won every major competition. Only Olympic gold is missing, I root for her to get it!" he got excited as if it was about himself. Shakes thought he knew him well, but definitely not from this side...

"And that will be her Olympic free skate program." Tiger explained what exactly they're watching on the phone, with eyes still glued to the screen, as Anastasia stood up from the sit spin, now holding her leg straight up - but this time in front, not behind.

"Pff, I could do that too." El Matador scoffed, just being himself. Not that he couldn't even tell apart jumps or raise his leg like that.

"I bet you'd fall after only taking a step on the ice." said Tiger, first time glancing from the screen, raising his eyebrow at El Matador.

"Bet!"

"Sorry, El Matador, but you could never pull off a quad lutz." Klaus crossed arms and looked offended by El Matador's action. How dare he disgrace his second favourite sport?

"Quad- what?"

"Beautiful!" Klaus didn't answer El Matador, instead clapped his hands, as Anastasia landed the just-said quad lutz, and finished the program, one knee on the ice, other leg straight, arms and back tilted far back.

Shakes suddenly remembered where he may know her from, when there was a close up on her after the program. It was after they lost a match to FC Barka, Riano just after a very short celebration with his team ran up to the stands and hugged some woman, even bringing her down on the field. He didn't pay much attention to it then, but it was definitely the same girl. They were very close, she even seemed to know his whole team. Could they be...? At least that's what he thought witnessing that moment...

Well, nothing easier than to ask.

"Is she... Riano's girlfriend?" he asked cautiously, rubbing his nape.

After this question, silence fell in the locker room. Everyone looked at him as if they couldn't process what he just said. He immediately felt how warmth spreads on his cheeks, even reaches his ears. Did he say something stupid? Ugh, he should have checked on the phone instead of asking...

"He has a girlfriend and I don't?!" El Matador shouted, looking just as surprised as the other two in the room, but because of a different reason.

Tiger and Klaus, after another moment of silence, burst out laughing, probably at both of their teammates' words.

"She's his sister!" Tiger shouted through laughter, trying to calm down. "Don't you see the resemblance? They have the same eyes." he quickly searched up the photo of them next to each other, on Anastasia's Instagram. Photo of them both holding gold medals with caption: 'Golden siblings 🔥😎 (I'm better, but don't tell him 🤪)'.

"But... You said she is 'Levedeva'. And she represents Russia, while Riano is from Spain. His surname is 'Sanchez'. It's pretty confusing." he defended himself, still feeling his cheeks burn.

"It's because their father is Spanish, and their mother is Russian. They probably have double nationality, so can represent one of these countries. Also, on Wikipedia they have double-barrelled surname. Anastasia once spoke, that because her name is Russian, she prefers using mother's surname, and Riano father's. The whole story. Not that confusing."

"No, if you're a fan." he scoffed, still trying to save his face in all this.

"So she's single?" El Matador asked such an important question, that everyone in the room rolled their eyes.

"Yeah, waiting specially for you." Tiger snapped back sarcastically. "What? Are you considering playing badly in our next match with Barka just to endear her?"

"No, I'll become her favourite striker." he answered, looking at his nails and their perfect manicure.

"And then Riano will accidentally foul you." Klaus said definitely too lightly, taking what he meant.

Shakes didn't say anything more. Just took his back, said goodbyes and walked out of the locker room. As soon as the doors closed behind him, he took out his phone. There were already a few notifications from Spenza, asking where he is, and if he's close to the cafeteria he may grab something for him. He just quickly wrote that he'll be out in five minutes.

Slowly walking down the corridor, he switched to Instagram, first checking Riano's profile, as he was following it already. And yes, there were some photos of them together. She was even mentioned in his bio! How has he never seen that? It was just before his eyes.

He clicked to her account, and first was surprised that she has over a million followers - okay, maybe being a celebrity himself he shouldn't be surprised, but he wasn't into figure skating and had no idea how many people were interested in it. But what surely was impressive, were the medals she had listed in bio. It seems she was in sport since the 2017/18 season, and even since then was successful.

Only when he switched to the look through the posts he felt a bit uneasy, that he was checking her out like that. But it's public information, she publishes them herself, so it's nothing bad. Just first three posts and he already met with words he doesn't understand.

There was a video with the caption: 'Another cantilever with the Queen of it' and a tag of probably her friend also into figure skating. The name of the move said nothing to him, but watching the video of two girls doing it side-by-side said enough: He'd break his spine, knees and a few more things before doing it. He looked down and raised his t-shirt a bit, looking at his abs. But if these girls are doing it, with a bit more flexibility he would be able to do it too, right? His core muscles wouldn't betray him... Right?

"What am I doing?" he scolded himself, pushing t-shirt down and shaking his head. But then he looked back at the phone and couldn't just turn it off.

There was something about how she moved on ice that was really eye-catching, maybe even a bit hypnotising. She was so graceful, making everything look easy (actually a bit too easy, he was a little afraid that El Matador might want to try it all himself). He was never interested in this sport, but just might get into it a little bit... At least to be able to tell apart jumps... Or no, just name them for now. Telling them apart is definitely impossible, he looked at the videos of two named 'lutz' and 'flip' and they looked the same. Interesting if Riano can see the difference... She's his sister after all.

"I can't believe I'm down bad since I heard she's actually not his girlfriend..." he muttered to himself, leaving a follow before closing the app.

She was really happy for a moment. In the moments, when she realised how much she has, how her younger self could only dream about it. Even if her little crush wouldn't change in anything more in the future, she still would have a wonderful friend, and a priceless memory to cherish. And she had a career. Enough money not to worry about the next days, weeks, months, years even. She had a wonderful companion always waiting for her at home, fans, team... Yet all of this had no worth when her mind turned towards him.

Billy.

One of the most - if not the most - important people in her team. Someone trusted with her career, one of the people responsible for her image. Taking care of her contracts, finances, shows and tours, and many more things... Yet she despised him.

His hand moving down her arm, slowly sliding the strap of her bra, while whispering in her ear how he adores her. Other hand holding on her chin, turning her head to face him, because she was turning it away... "I knew you would become a star... Since that moment in that cafe" His nose softly touching hers, she could feel his breath on her lips and she knew he was looking at them. "I created you, I deserve something in return, don't I?" His hand holding hers, moving it to his-

"Damn him...!" Rosalie thought of it again, while sitting in the bathtub. Hot water was pouring from the rainshower. Hot enough to create thick steam that was already in the whole bathroom. She heard some scratching on the doors. Not caring of the water still flowing and that she'll water the floor, she got up and out of the tub, just to open the doors for Lady, and close them again just as the cat walked in.

And then she got back in the tub. Hot water burned her skin and scalp, hair plastered to her back and face.

His hands moved over her nape and down the back, as if tracing her spine. She shivered, but not because of excitement, but terror in her heart. It wasn't the first time, she shouldn't feel anything anymore. She should have gotten used to it. But every time she felt more and more terrified that he would take another step and touch her most intimate part. That he would desecrate her even there. Ruin every love she could possibly feel in the future.

My father would kill him if he knew. I think Michael would too. Back then it wouldn't be called rape, because that wasn't sex, he didn't touch my... and didn't put his... we all know. Even today it might not have been classified like that. As If I wasn't forced to... It's still hard for me to even write about it, but I know it's important. It can happen to everyone, no matter who you are and how safe you think you are. It was especially hard for me then, not only because of what I mentioned a moment ago, but also because he didn't use strength. 'Just' threatened me. Then it would be 'just' sexual assault. And a big scandal and image problem for me. Combining it with my feeling of loneliness in this... I was equally afraid of going to court as about the next time he'll touch me.

"One to ten years... But in reality?" she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and trying not to cry.

In reality, it was possible that no one would believe her. That he would have gotten an even lighter sentence. Maybe even probation. Or maybe he would have been acquitted altogether, if no one had believed her and she would lose everything. His life also wouldn't be the sweetest after such accusations, but apparently, society takes such cases much easier on men than women.

What she saw some times in the newspapers? 'There was no violence', 'She didn't try to run', 'We can't ruin his life basing on words and weak evidence', 'That's not a rape', 'That's not an abuse'. Worth mentioning, that 'weak evidence' described in the article wasn't weak in her eyes. But in judge's was.

Rosalie just felt... Powerless. That she could do nothing. Nothing but write songs.

No one would ever hear them anyway, but at least her emotions could even get a little bit out. Sometimes she would play them on her guitar, ending up sobbing after the first chorus. Billy once flipped through the notebook in which she wrote lyrics. And ripped away the page with lyrics he really didn't like. About injustice, pain, helplessness and work, everything she had to bear. Things that were happening to her just because she was a woman. She got this ripped out page from the bin anyway, and put it back in the notebook.

Good he didn't find the song in which she calls him a devil, following her like a shadow.

Some of those songs she knew by heart already. Even better than her biggest hit.

Rosalie didn't know how much time she had been in the bathtub, deep in the thoughts. But suddenly she heard Lady meowing loudly and scratching and the doors again.

"What is it? It's too hot for you here, sweetie?" she said, her voice breaking a little. Eventually, with a sigh she got up and out of the tub. Again, to open the doors. But Lady didn't want to walk out, instead, she looked at Rosalie with her big eyes. "What?"

Lady meowed again and then Rosalie realised what she meant. Phone rang. Probably for some time now, so she quickly turned off water and grabbed a bathrobe, putting it on as she walked quickly to the living room.

"Hello?" she was wondering who it could be, but then she glanced at the clock: 1 a.m.

God, how long was she sitting in the bathroom? It surely wasn't even midnight as she got in, maybe not even 11 p.m....

And there was only one person who could be casually calling her on this hour, but before she got to ask, the person spoke:

"Applehead to Rosie, do you copy?" Michael. Of course it's him.

She chuckled, though still wasn't in a good mood. Lady was purring and brushing against her leg, as if she knew who Rosalie was talking to. Rosie sat down on the couch, not caring that her whole hair was wet, her feet left traces on the floor, and the bathrobe was already also wet. Lady quickly jumped on her knees and laid comfortably, curling up into a ball of fluff.

"Hear you loud and clear." she answered, trying to bring a light tone to her voice, but - taking into account his reaction - failed.

"You alright?" he asked, hearably a worried tone sneaking into his voice. "Did something happen?"

"A horrible evening. First I burned chicken, then I hit the dresser with my little finger, then Lady found herself a new bed - in my ruined dress..." here Lady looked up at Rosie, as if saying 'Excuse me?', because none of what she said was true. "...and now... And now you called." she finished, joking, this time faking a light tone well.

"Ouch, that hurt my soul." he went along with the joke, but remained suspicious. "Gonna call you out in the next song for that."

"And how will you title it? 'Broken Call, Broken Heart'?" she teased. Maybe it's good he phoned? Instead of sitting in the tub and wasting water, she'll get at least a little bit of comfort. And forget for a short while.

When she couldn't sleep, to get her thoughts to focus on something and eventually drift into sleep, she would play 'The Lady in My Life' or 'Liberian Girl' and most times it worked. Especially when Lady came and laid next to her, nudging Rosalie to hold her - yeah... She liked to sleep with her, she didn't even try to free herself from the hug often.

"Maybe. But simply 'heartbroken' would work as well." he answered and silence fell between them.

Michael - typically for him - couldn't sleep in the night, that's why he called - but that wasn't the only reason. But he didn't know how to start the topic... He wanted to ask her out without asking her out. Like... You could treat it as a date, but didn't have to.

But how to say it? Hanging out with people you have no romantic feelings with is easier. A lot easier. You don't think about how to put things on your mind in words, you just say it with no care.

And now... Especially that Rosalie was clearly not in a good mood, though she tried to hide it... But if he doesn't do it now, he'll think of it all night, and next day, and next, and again, and again... Come on Michael, why one day you can flirt without problems and next you're afraid to ask a simple question?

"Hey, I just thought... Have you ever been to Disney World?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She frowned, though he obviously couldn't see that. That... That definitely wasn't something she expected to hear at over 1 a.m. Though she knew he liked to go to Disneyland, such a proposition never crossed her mind.

"You do know we are currently in New York, right? And still have work." she said cautiously, she didn't want to sound rude, just... serious, taking into account their current position.

"And you do know, there are such things as planes? Even private planes!" she rolled her eyes at that. "And who's to decide when is a day - or two - off, if not the employers?" he pointed out.

She didn't say anything for a long moment. She actually was thinking about it. Going there, with him... It probably won't be peaceful, as people will surely recognize him, but at least they'll spend some time together, away from work. And away from Billy. Well, he has to know where she will be and how long, but he won't be there... So far away, just the two of them (not counting the security...).

Michael's heart was suddenly beating faster. The longer she didn't say anything, the more stressed he was, playing nervously with the phone line.

"A bit above two hours and we have Cinderella Castle in sight. So?" he added, couldn't wait more in the silence.

"So maybe four days off? I'll manage to get to my father's birthday without trying to get through the traffic jam to the other side of the city?"

Every year I wait for my father's birthday. Ever since I was little and my mother was no longer with us. Because on that day I could do something for him, and he couldn't complain. Couldn't say that I shouldn't worry about anything, that he'll manage, that I should have childhood.

When I started working in the cafe I was even happier, because alongside handmade things, I could buy him something, help him. And since I released a successful album, nothing else brought me more joy than helping him with this money. I saw he didn't want to admit it, because he was the man, my father, he was supposed to provide for me, not the other way around...

But he and mother took care of me when I couldn't, when they brought me into the world. He is my father, who else than me is supposed to take care of him, when he needs this? I love him, he loves me, it's easy. And after a long talk, he finally seemed to accept that.

I couldn't wait to see him.

"It's okay with me, as long as you pass to your father a 'happy birthday' from me." at first he wanted to say: 'as long as I'm invited too', but quickly decided against it. It's not the right moment yet...

For now, he got to get her to go to Disney World with him. He couldn't be happier. Well, if she told him why she sounds sad, he might have been happier, because he could look for a way to cheer her up, solve her problem... But maybe she'll tell him on the flight, or in the car, or in the park. If she wants to.

~Author's note~

"I have a vision." he started, taking a seat on the small table, pushing to the side Rosalie's cup of coffee and some hair cosmetics. "To make the scene better, but wanted to ask you first."

"Then go on, ask." she picked up the cup and drank some coffee.

"Do you mind a kiss?"

Luckily she quickly swallowed and only then started coughing. John was really good at surprising her, but this time it hit different.

Of course I didn't mind. I had a crush on Michael, after all, I was fifteen when 'Thriller' aired. I remember spending my pocket money on the vinyl.You know what? I will open my soul completely to you: I skipped school to buy a poster, because I heard from my friend that in the shop that her friend's father works there will be some. Well, I didn't pass the math pop quiz the next day, but to this day I think it was worth it.

If a fifteen year old me heard that she would be able to kiss not the poster, but the man she had on it, she would either laugh or pass out.

Well, but she certainly wouldn't be happy to hear what will be happening between her and her manager.

"Excuse me? I mean-" she stuttered out. A few moments later, when surprise disappeared, she did everything not to show that she actually didn't mind at all. "Did you speak with Michael?"

"Ladies first."

What she didn't know was that... John didn't come up with this idea himself. No longer than a dozen minutes before John knocked on the door of Rosalie's changing room, he spoke with Michael - or rather he spoke and Michael was whispering.

Michael asked him, if he were to take Rosalie to a date, where it would be. It wasn't the most discreet way to admit he liked Rosalie and would like to have something more with her. John's answer was rather direct: 'Michael, just say what you want from me'. When it comes to Michael... Well, he was still rather shy about it: 'Nothing, just... She's nice, I'd like to go out with her, but dunno what she'd like... You think she would enjoy Disneyland?'.

Then something happened that the King of Pop surely didn't expect, but after knowing John for so long, should: 'Give me a minute, you'll thank me later'.

Of course he tried to stop him. Giggling awkwardly he grabbed his arm, but John kept on assuring him that everything is alright and will be perfect, he just has to trust him and not make a scene.

"I trust professionals, if that's your vision..." she put the cup back down, her hand was shaking a bit, but she hoped he didn't see it. "Yeah, sure."

It wouldn't be the first time when she was to kiss someone, outside or for a video. But towards those people she had no hard feelings, surely had no crush. To kiss the Michael Jackson... And have it on the video and be able to watch it over and over again...

I was never so happy that I brushed my teeth.

"Perfect." John smiled, got up from the table and hugged her briefly, before leaving the room.

Just as the doors closed, Rosalie checked her breath. She didn't feel like eating anything after what happened yesterday and brushed her teeth in the morning, but still reached for the mint. Better be sure. But then other thoughts came... What if he's gonna think too much, smelling that she prepared herself? But come on, knowing she's to kiss him, she cannot let her breath be bad. It's rather obvious, she would beg the ground to swallow her if she kissed him with a bad breath.

Well, until I was angry and ate some garlic just for this one purpose.

It was no easy moment for her, when she was standing with her back against the wall, tapping tights with her fingers and waiting for everything to be ready to start filming. Her heart was already beating fast, but started to even faster, when she saw him approaching her.

"Don't stress out, it's just another one of John's ideas. Not like it's something extraordinary..." Michael said. Ironically, while telling her to not be stressed, he looked stressed himself.

"Me? Stressed?" she even scoffed, folding arms across the chest, so she would stop tapping her thighs. "I have no shame in me."

I think at that point it was a lie, but after launching 'Scandalous' in 1991... No, I have no shame at this point.

"How's Lady?" he asked an out of topic question, probably to turn her thoughts to a different direction. And his too, as he almost attempted to rip his hair off after John left to speak with Rosalie. But it seemed that the talk went well.

There he is now, standing in front of her, trying to look cool, hoping not to blush and that his breath is good after quickly grabbing a mint when John was away. And there she is, a beautiful woman he was too shy to just ask out. Maybe now is the time? No, it would be too suspicious... After, after they shoot the scene. The mood will be lighter, there will be some adrenaline, perfect moment-

No, that's even worse. How could he ask her out just after a non-committal kiss? It would be weird and she would quickly figure out he's up to something. And whereshould he invite her? Or rather - where he can invite her so they can have at least some privacy? His house is the most obvious answer, but she was there many times already, nothing new. Restaurant sounds a bit... pathetic, and visibly a date. Theatre or cinema don't sound bad, but there isn't much occasion to talk. Well, he would most like to go to Disneyland... But is she gonna like it? At the same time it wouldn't look so much like a date, so maybe it's a good idea?

"She's... Well. Like always. A little chaos, but lovely chaos. Three days ago she knocked down a flowerpot and was whole in the soil. And she's white, you know. So..." she sighed, but smirked a bit at the memory. "I had to wash her, and surprisingly she enjoyed it. At first she was fighting, yes, but when I got into the tub with her, she calmed down. And now when I take a bath she's scratching the doors to let her in and I have no choice. I guess I no longer have any privacy." they both chuckled as she finished the story.

Actually, yesterday when Rosie was taking a bath, she was scrubbing her body with a sponge so hard that at first she didn't even hear Lady's scratching doors. Probably her soft cries also drowned it out a bit.

She looked up into his eyes, realising how close they're actually standing. Not like they never were close, they hugged quite often after all. But it was different, felt different. She was about to feel his lips on hers, maybe his hand would cup her cheek. In her head 'The Way You Make Me Feel' and her own song about acting like a girl next to this one boy, were playing alternately, instead of the song that was supposed to be in the background when they kiss.

You may believe me or not, but while listening to 'The Way You Make Me Feel' at home I was imagining I'm the girl Michael is chasing and singing too. It might have looked a bit weird. Lady just sat on the couch and looked at me as If doing something very weird, that's why I got this impression.

Actually, I was playing along to his music videos quite often. Sometimes mimicking his moves, sometimes playing some other role and - obviously - singing. I even bought a fedora to be more realistic, but it remained well hidden in my wardrobe as If it was a murder weapon or something.

Oh, and I'm about to embarrass myself, but as I said I have no shame, so I may tell you... Once, perfectly on the beat I hit the table leg with the little finger and let out - I think - the best 'ow!' of my life.

Also, she felt safe next to him. It was so different in comparison to how she acted when Billy was around - and she herself wasn't even aware of the small gestures she did. Like taking a little step away from him and towards Michael. Like fidgeting fingers or playing with the hem of clothes. Like holding breath for a short moment, or slight shiver, or running away with a gaze.

Now all those bad memories and negative thoughts were away, because she was with him. Because he would never hurt her. He is a true gentleman. Such a good change, to feel safe and be free of worries. Through her mind even went a wish, that it could last forever. It was so much better to be on set with him than anywhere else with Billy.

I should have fired him the moment he made a move on me. But I let him cow me.

"No, she just loves you." he said with a chuckle.

"Just like she loved you fedora."

"But she definitely didn't like my pants." he joked, taking another little step closer. "And by the way, I'm still finding white fur in my fedora."

"Sorry?"

She didn't even realise that the music was already in the background, that John shouted something, until she felt Michael's hand on her cheek and just after his lips on hers.

It was so... so good. He smelled mint, same with taste. His lips were soft, almost just like his feather-like touch, as if he was afraid he may hurt her. It was just a short moment, mere seconds, yet she daydreamed like it was hours. She had to hold back, gripping her skirt from the side where there was no camera, to not seek for his lips as he moved away.

"Come on, Mike, I give you a girl looking like a million dollars and you are so dispassionate?"said Johnafter the shot. Oh, I felt pretty hot. "Grab her leg, show some interest. Hey!" he snapped his fingers. "You too Rosie, or did you forget how to move?"

I think we did this scene like five times. All I know is that by the last shot Michael held my leg under the knee and stood so close, that I felt his body on mine and I was afraid I might start sweating. Especially because his other hand held my waist. And what about me? One arm over his neck and another gripping on the hair as If I was holding for my dear life. Well, my heart surely did.

In particular, when I saw the recorded scene at the day of launching that music video.

And I'll add something you probably know, If you're interested in me enough to read this book, but I'll write it anyway: in the first of many special editions of the album the frame of us kissing passionately became the cover. It sold out in a day.

~

What were the chances that this was the same weapon she had seen in her dreams? Probably a slim chance, but since it had recently appeared in them again, it must mean something. Maybe that was why she had dreamed about it, because it was somewhere here, because she should find it.

"A beautiful dagger." she said, drawing the attention of the two talking. She smiled, trying to look warm. "Valyrian steel? They say it cuts clean." she came closer, stopping a step away from them.

"How did you know?" Arya asked, immediately adding, not looking too pleased: "Your Grace."

"Your Grace." the man also spoke, bowing his head for a moment.

"I guessed, because I think I know this weapon." she explained shortly.

"Have you ever held a weapon in your hands?" Arya's tone came out more mocking than she intended.

She promised her brother - just like Sansa - that she would not be hasty in judging Visenya, but would give her a chance to show her good side, the one he supposedly got to know her from. It wasn't easy after what she had been through, but if Robb had managed it and asked her to do the same, then she was going to at least try - no matter how hard it was for her.

"No, but I've seen it many times in my dreams." she didn't show that she didn't like Arya's slightly mocking tone. "May I?"

At first, she hadn't planned to mention that she had seen something in her dream, because she knew how people approached such things. Most didn't believe in dreaming something, especially the future, despite the evidence, like Daenys, who had dreamed the destruction of Valyria. She had seen for herself many times that her dreams were true - or at least the vast majority of them. She had dreamed dragons, that Jorah would attack her, a meeting with Robb... At this point, she was interpreting every dream she had, taking it as a vision of the future.

Reluctantly, but in the name of trying to build good relations, Arya held the dagger out to her so she could look at it. Visenya took it gently in her hands, immediately searching for the words she had tried to read from the weapon in her dream. However, the signs were too vague to read.

She was about to sigh in resignation, but her eyes were drawn to the fire between the glowing coals. Without saying anything, she inserted the blade there, hoping that the heated steel would reveal its secrets. Arya looked annoyed and on the verge of saying something unpleasant, but she decided to bite her tongue one more time and suffer in silence. She tried to distract herself by looking at the knight who had come after Visenya. She was aware of who he was, and maybe if he hadn't been on the Queen's side, she would have spoken up, to have a sparring match with him, to see for herself if he deserved his reputation.

In the meantime, the steel had managed to heat up and Visenya pulled the dagger out from between the heated coals. This time the words were much clearer, but she still had to squint a bit.

"Hen ñuha ānogar kivio dārilaros māzigon, se zȳhon kessa vāedar suvio perzo sagon." she read in Valyrian, drawing Arya's attention back as she frowned in confusion. "The one who was promised will bring the dawn, and his will be the song of ice and fire."

Or rather: 'From my blood shall come the prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire' in a free translation, but remembering that dārilaros has no gender in Valyrian. However, she did not want to translate it this way, referring to her family, so that Arya would not think she feels superior because of her origin. If she had any opinion about her, it was probably bad, but she did not want to add to it the fact that she considered herself exceptional.

Although she did not hide from herself that she considered herself to be just that. But not only because she was a Targaryen.

She remembered Melisandre, who had first presented her with this prophecy, and even some of its further part. She also said that her father believed in this prophecy, that it was a dream of her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror. Was she right, was she telling the truth? In such a case, Aegon I must have ordered this weapon to be forged, or at least the text on it.

A song of ice and fire... Is the Night King and his army ice and she is fire? Has her whole life come down to this moment? Has she survived all the odds because that's her role? And the rest of her future is in question...?

"Is this an ancestral weapon?" Arya interrupted her thoughts, who - at least from the outside - didn't seem to care much about what Visenya had just discovered. "You'll be outside? During the battle?"

"Yes."

"Do you have anything to defend yourself with?"

"I have dragons." she answered with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Arya wanted to roll her eyes, but she held back. She wrestled with her thoughts for a moment, wondering if she was making the right decision. Finally, she sighed inwardly and decided to do something nice - at least in her vocabulary.

"Take it. In case you fall off." there was a hint of mockery in her tone again, but better hidden than last time. "They'll make me a weapon I designed myself anyway." she added, seeing that Visenya was already opening her mouth to probably refuse.

She didn't want to part with this dagger, but surely if she hadn't suggested it herself, the Targaryen would have asked her for it in some way. Perhaps very veiled, so that it didn't sound like an order but rather a request, but she couldn't refuse anyway, so she got ahead of her. Let her treat it as a good gesture on her part, to start their acquaintance. Although for now she didn't have any opinion about her, apart from the thought that somewhere in the back of her mind was that she was a woman who was entitled. It clashed with what Robb had said about her, but who knew if she had shown her true face even once so far? Maybe this was all just a game to gain trust, to wrap them around her finger? And she came to help only because she didn't want to rule the wasteland?

Visenya, on the other hand, wanted to thank her, but when she said it, Arya was no longer there. Only that boy remained.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gendry, Your Grace."

"Genry, will you please tell her that I thank her? And that I appreciate the gesture?" she asked, looking at him seriously, as if she was asking for something much more important than passing on thanks.

"Of course, Your Grace." he replied, bowing his head. "Did Your Grace come here for some purpose, or...?"

"Thank you. And no, no... I'm just using the last few free moments. I'd better go, I won't interfere with work." she replied, forcing a smile and started to walk away.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was unwanted here, and that everyone who addressed her was doing it out of necessity. It was a nasty feeling, because her intentions were sincere. And what was even worse was that she didn't know how to show it, and in a way that everyone would notice and appreciate.

"Thank you." Gendry said, stopping her in mid-step. "If it weren't for you, Your Grace... None of this would exist. There would be no dragonglass to craft weapons, nor people to use them. There would be no chance of survival. I don't know if I can speak for everyone, but... at least for myself, thank you, Your Grace."

Her forced smile transformed into a completely sincere one, which also took over her eyes, in which there seemed to be sparks of emotion. She hadn't expected such words from him, so they shocked her even more.

"I swore to myself that I would make the world a better place. I can't do it by standing by and letting people die, regardless of whether they are under my rule or not. So this is the only decision I could make." she felt the need to explain herself, so she did just that, before adding what had been on her mind from the beginning: "I'm very glad you appreciate it."

* * *

After visiting the forge, she went to do one more thing - this time something that Arthur had suggested to her, and even Varys before, but she herself didn't really feel like it. It was about talking to Sansa Stark. Contrary to appearances, they had a few things in common and they should be able to come to an understanding at least a little. Well, not if one side was set in a bad way from the start.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, entering the chamber where she saw Sansa talking to a man. She asked Arthur to stay behind the door and went inside herself.

The conversation died down immediately. Sansa just nodded at the man, probably indicating that they would finish the subject later, and right after that he left, bowing his head as he passed Visenya.

"Is something wrong, Your Grace?" Sansa clasped her hands behind her back and straightened up, turning her full attention to Visenya.

In a way she couldn't admit to herself, she admired her. It might have been largely unconscious, but in the short time they'd known each other, she'd come to adopt her hair style. She'd spent more time on her own hair, on how she could style her braids differently, even though they weren't as visible as they were on Visenya's silver hair.

Besides, she was interested in how, despite her clothing, which borrowed heavily from men's wardrobe, she remained feminine. She didn't hide her trousers and high boots, yet she still had at least an emphasized waist and bust. It was a different approach to femininity, which may not have appealed to her personally, but it suited this woman.

That wasn't the only fact that surprised her. Another was that her brother had fallen in love with her. She had no doubts about that, she was only afraid of what might come of it. Out of love people easily to foolish things, what if she took advantage of it? How would she talk some sense into her brother when the time came?

"I just wanted to talk." Visenya said, pointing to a chair while sitting down at the table herself. She waited until Sansa had also taken a seat before continuing. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't understand. You've done enough, Your Grace."

"You understand." she replied quickly, not taking her eyes off her. "I'm aware I'm a stranger here, and if you didn't need me, you wouldn't be so nice. This isn't my place, and I know that, so I won't try to fit in, but I'd like to be on friendly terms with you." she explained, throwing her leg over the other and resting her hands on her thighs.

"The people of the North don't trust easily, and those of the South don't trust anyone, because everyone only cares about their own interests."

For a moment, Visenya almost took this as contempt for her, as someone born in the South, but she decided to take it as a generalization and keep quiet. She couldn't let herself be walked over, but at the same time she couldn't argue about everything if she wanted to establish even the slightest friendly relations.

"Everyone has some goal in life that they strive for in some way. The most disgusting ones are unfortunately often the fastest." she said, in a way defending the people Sansa had despised.

"And your goal?" she asked, although she answered for her immediately afterward: "The Iron Throne. The path to it is certainly not strewn with roses and it is not won with sweet smiles and kind words."

It wasn't exactly meant to be an attack, more of a provocation, so that she would have to admit that she wasn't as good as she pretended to be. Even if she really wants to be like that, she must have made some mistakes that she regrets. She won't believe that she has gone through life so far without any dilemmas or remorses.

Well, she didn't take into account that people don't confide in anyone about such things, or they do to people they trust a lot.

"The Iron Throne is not my goal, it is only a means to it." it was a simple and honest answer, or rather a correction to the assumption that Sansa had. At the same time, however, she did not address the second part of her statement.

"So what is your goal, Your Grace?"

"To change the world." when she said it, surprisingly it did not sound like a hackneyed phrase that many people had repeated over the years, and ultimately did nothing to fulfill it. Surprisingly, it fell from her lips more like a promise, a certain future. "The Iron Throne is the only way to achieve this in Westeros. Once we defeat the Night King, I will deal with Cersei once and for all - it does not matter where she fled or when she plans to return, I will pull her out of the ground if I have to - and finally claim it completely, taking over the power."

In reality, power was already concentrated in her hands - or weighed on her shoulders, depending on the approach we take. Or at least most of it, since Olenna Tyrell, the Greyjoy siblings, and Dorne had pledged for her. Storm's End didn't have a Lord, so that could be a problem. As for the Vale and the North... Well, that remains to be seen.

Either way, only when all of her enemies were defeated would she be able to truly call herself Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and hold a coronation, to make it official and for the common folk to know that they had a new ruler over them.

"What about the North?" Sansa asked, returning to a topic she would rather forget. "It was taken from us, but we got it back - not to lose it again by kneeling to someone."

She understood what Sansa meant, after all, she had encountered something similar before: When Yara and Theon had sailed to her in Meereen. They had offered her ships, but had also asked her to give them the Iron Islands when the war was over. She had finally agreed, after some conditions had been set.

In this situation, it would be harder to achieve the same thing.

'If everyone starts demanding independence, eventually you won't have any land left to rule, Your Grace.' Who knows, maybe Tyrion was right. Everyone will start ruling themselves, there will be more wars, until someone like the Conqueror and his sisters appears again, who will subjugate the entire continent.

Not a very optimistic vision.

"Robb did not bend the knee to me." she reminded. She also deliberately said 'Robb' and not 'your brother', to put some distance.

"You are here only out of the goodness of your heart, you expect nothing in return?" the tone of this statement was saturated with distrust, which did not surprise Visenya.

"I believe it is my destiny to make the world a better place, to free it from the tyrants who destroy it. And I will do so, no matter the cost." she began slowly, weighing her words. "I don't know much about you, but from what I've known Robb, I know he's no tyrant." she reached out and took Sansa's hand, as if to emphasize her good intentions. "I realize our families have a painful history, but also one of great friendship, such as when Cregan Stark stood up and fought for Rhaenyra Targaryen. I don't know if I can count on that much, but I hope the Crown and the North will become friends in the near future. If we can agree on a few changes that the entire continent needs." at first she wanted to let that last sentence go, but she decided she had to emphasize that she could back down, but not completely.

Visenya's words clashed with the vision Sansa wanted to have in her head. A vision she might not like, because it would be easier than trying to build trust after so many disappointments. But this - just like the person who stopped what she was doing to play with the children with a smile on her face - was impossible not to like, as long as it was sincere, of course.

She had doubts about the last part of her statement, but it was still more than she expected. She thought that asking about the North would provoke a more defensive, sharp reaction, but instead she was surprised - and quite pleasantly so.

She was about to answer, but then Maester Wolkan entered the chamber.

"Forgive me, my Lady, Your Grace..."

It turned out that Theon had arrived at Winterfell with several Ironborn. Contrary to what Visenya had expected, he had managed to rescue Yara, who was sailing with several ships to the Iron Islands to take them on her behalf.

She just couldn't understand why he hadn't gone with her. At least not until she remembered what she had learned from Robb. What Theon had done, both bad and good. And most of all, that he had grown up with the Starks.

She even envied him. He hadn't been raised with his blood family, but at least he had one. Among good people, in a place he could call home. She wished her past had looked at least like that.

* * *

The meeting was supposed to take place in the afternoon, but it started earlier when several wildlings and brothers from the Night's Watch arrived at Winterfell, reporting that the gate in Castle Black had been breached. It was only when she heard this that she felt threatened. Up until now, it had been just conversations, with a huge wall separating them from the undead. Now it all became real and she began to stress out. Especially when they were standing over the map.

"How much time do we have?" Robb asked, looking towards the red-haired wildling, whom she heard they called Tormund.

"A day? No more than two." he answered him.

It was hard to estimate, considering that their enemy was not getting tired and could therefore constantly move. They managed to overtake them, urging their horses all the time, pushing them to the limit. But with what advantage exactly?

"We won't defeat them in direct combat, but at the same time we won't all fit behind the walls."

"The Dothraki are best in the open field, no one rides horses better than them." she said.

"Then they will definitely be outside. Maybe they can attack from the side."

"The Night King created them all, if we defeat him, the whole army will fall. This may be our best chance." Jon interjected.

"If that’s true, then he will never show himself." Jaime pointed out, and she had just thought about it herself.

If that’s true, then they are in a losing position from the start. They have no certainty that the Night King will show up. After all, why would he risk-

"He will." Bran interrupted her thoughts. He hadn't been speaking up until now, and everyone turned their attention to him. "He will come for me. He has tried to kill the Three-Eyed Ravens many times, and he will do it again."

"Why? What does he want?" Sam asked, standing closer to the wall than to the table with the map.

"Endless night. He wants to destroy this world, and I am its memory." he explained, almost too calmly for what those words meant.

To be forgotten. Once, that was what she would have wanted. For Robert to forget her existence, for everyone in the world to forget, and then she could live in peace. If people didn't know the history of her family, there would be no burden on her, no expectations or shameful deeds. She would simply be... herself, and people would judge her that way. But then again, if it weren't for that history... She probably would never have had the courage to do all that she did.

"That's what death is, after all, isn't it? Even if we survive, but we're stripped of our history, we'll be nothing more than animals." it sounded like Sam was talking more to himself than to everyone in the room, but everyone heard it, and there was a long moment of silence.

She doesn't want to be forgotten. She wants to be remembered, as Aegon is still remembered. She may have already made history, but that's not enough. She may be even better, surpassing anyone whose history has been recorded in books so far.

None of this is just pure intentions to change the world for the better. She doesn't want to queen it over those she wants to enlist, but she can admit to herself that she wants to grow into - and even surpass - the expectations that she... has actually imposed on herself. The more you have, the more you want, right? Ambitions grow alarmingly fast. And combining them with a gentle heart that wants the good of all, can be a combination that can easily break morale.

"How will he find you?" Tyrion asked, but at this point she wasn't really listening.

"He marked me." Bran pulled up his sleeve and showed the mark of a hand squeeze on his forearm. "He always knows where I am. So I'll be the bait so that we can destroy him before he destroys us."

She remembered her dream, which she had had back in Meereen. Now she knew that she had to be beyond the Wall. She remembered how every undead she could see had knelt before her on one knee. She remembered the one figure who hadn't. He was different from them, he had no ruined clothes, no bruises or scars, and he wasn't missing any limb. She remembered the cold breath on her face, as icy as the blue of the figure's eyes. She remembered how he almost touched her cheek, and then smiled mysteriously. As if he knew that they would meet someday...

'Death itself will bend its knee' - it would be hard not to repeat Melisandre's words in her head, part of the prophecy she had presented to her. She had dismissed it before, but now it all came together into a coherent whole. This dream had a deeper meaning, despite what she had thought.

Perhaps she is only convinced of her own greatness and adapts the words of the prophecy and all its other signs to her person, but in the end she believed with all her being that she is the princess that was promised. Hers will be the song of ice and fire, her victory over darkness will be remembered even hundreds of years after her death, longer than Aegon's conquest.

But... Does this mean that her role will end there? That all the great things she has planned may not come true? This is her destiny, until then the history need her? No, her future must hide much more, it must...

"And how can you be sure that he will come for you personally, and not simply send his army to kill you?" she asked Bran, finally joining the conversation again.

"He was once a man. He waited for this moment for thousands of years, he will want to do it personally. I will wait for him in the Godswood." he answered her.

"You won’t be alone there-" Arya began, but then someone interrupted her.

"He won’t be alone, because I’ll be with him, along with the Ironborn." Theon declared, and almost everyone’s gaze shifted to him. "I took this castle from you once... Let me at least defend you now."

"You’re mostly archers." Visenya pointed out. "At least have a few Unsullied with you, they’ll be better at close range. You can shoot from behind them."

"That's what we will do." Bran agreed.

It was hard for her to focus on planning, even though it was the most important moment - right after the battle itself, of course, but decisive for its outcome. She caught a repetition of the fact that despite its size, the castle would not accommodate all the soldiers - besides, it had already been mentioned earlier that the Dothraki will fare much better on the field. She also heard wondering whether the Night King could only revive those he or his army had killed. After all, a shelter had to be found for those who would not fight. Normally, such a place would be the huge, multi-level crypts extended under the castle - and she doesn't think anyone even came up with a better idea, at least from what she heard.

In her defense, she probably wouldn't speak up anyway, because she simply doesn't know anything about planning a battle. Even if she ever had any ideas, she consulted them with her advisors, who were more familiar with the subject. However, after noting the need to prepare barrels with oil, she heard something that made her have to interfere. The idea was to give a signal to set the trench on fire.

"I’m sure Ser Davos will be just fine with swinging the torch himself." she interrupted the conversation, turning to Tyrion. "You’re better at thinking than fighting, and that’s what I need you for when the battle’s over. That’s why you’ll stay safe in the crypts."

"Your Grace, I’ll point out that I’ve fought before, so I can-"

"I have over a hundred thousand soldiers - and only one you. As I said, you think better than you fight, so that’s what you should focus on."

Tyrion knew he could do no more than nod. This was one of those moments when it would be hard to convince Visenya, and it wasn’t exactly urgent matter that he would do anything to change her mind on.

"The dragons will help us in the field, perhaps even give us an advantage." Davos said after a moment of silence.

"They won’t be defending Bran then, and we need to stay close to him. Not too close, because then the Night King won't come, but close enough to get there in time." Jon pointed out.

"Will dragonfire stop him?" Arya asked, turning to her younger brother.

"I don't know. No one's ever tried that."

"We can easily find out." Visenya said. "I'll go, find him and check it out."

"I must strongly protest, Your Grace." Tyrion immediately intervened, looking at her seriously. "It's too dangerous."

He protested the same way when she had a similar idea before. And this is one of those moments when he has to do everything to get the idea out of her head.

"Sooner or later I'll expose myself to some danger. What's the threat? From what we know, the undead can't shoot a bow, so nothing will hit me." she replied, even shrugging slightly.

"But you'll be alone." he emphasized.

"Not alone, but with Maelia, Drogon, Viserion and Rhaegal." she used the same firm tone as he had a moment ago to emphasize her words.

"We've discussed this before, dragons are not invincible, and neither are you."

"He's right." Robb interrupted, something neither of them had expected. "We don't know the full capabilities of our opponent, it's best not to take unnecessary risks."

She said nothing, but stared at Robb for a long moment, then sighed softly, which Tyrion already knew meant she had given up.

There was a long silence, during which the only sounds were breathing or some brief noise outside the hall, somewhat muffled by the closed door. Everyone looked at each other or averted their gaze, wandering around the map, just to avoid meeting someone's gaze.

"We will all die." Tormund said finally, as if summing it all up. "But at least we'll die together." he smiled slightly, a little sadly, looking at Brienne, who refrained from rolling her eyes.

"If I shared your approach, I would have been dead long ago." Visenya replied, referring to her difficult past. "But I am here and I do not intend to die. And attitude changes a lot, I assure you." a slight smile appeared on her face, as if she was actually able to comfort and raise the morale of the others gathered in the chamber in this way.

"We should all rest. We do not know how much peace we have left." Robb said this after another short moment of silence. His gaze fell on Visenya again, and this time it took a long moment for their eyes to meet.

Tyrion noticed this. Even when everyone started to leave, they kept looking at each other, furtively, but if someone had looked at them for even a moment, it would have been obvious. He didn't know what to think about it.

Visenya, on the other hand, was afraid to tell about her true feelings, out of fear of rejection - something that had never happened to her before. She had always been courted, she didn't have to try to keep someone's interest. It seemed to her that Robb might be waiting until they were alone, which she was also afraid of. She wasn't prepared for that, not now, not here. Not when everyone would know that they were the only ones left here and that they were definitely talking about something, heck, someone could even overhear. Besides, maybe it was more about the fact that she was used to chasing something she cared about, not someone.

That was why she also - although she was one of the last ones - took her steps towards the exit, but she did not break their eye contact, especially when she noticed that he was watching her leave.

Was it... an invitation? Did she want him to follow her? He himself was confused. Even when the uncertain future was more distant, he had been postponing the moment of confrontation - after all, there was still time for it. Maybe he had just imagined something. Maybe this was all just a brilliant manipulation. Maybe it wasn't fair to Talisa after all.

They could die any day now. She loved him, she would want him to be happy. Maybe not in the arms of another woman, but she was already dead, and Visenya was very much alive. Maybe there was nothing after death and they would never meet again. And if they had at most a day left to live, he couldn't waste it on worry and stress. He himself had said that they should rest, and he won't be able to do that if he doesn't get out what he himself had no idea when it had accumulated inside him.

Before he knew it, he was alone in the chamber. But not for long, because he stepped out with determination, swinging the door open.

Perhaps the storm in his heart would finally end. * * *

When she returned to her chamber, she immediately began to prepare for bed. She really needed a quiet night, so that when the time came, she could act as best she could. Although it was not certain whether she would be able to sleep through the night and get enough sleep, not in these circumstances. She took the ornament out of her hair and removed the silver chain from her chest. Immediately afterwards, she began to unbutton her coat, but then she heard a knock on the door.

"A minute." she said, fastening the hook and eye again. She quickly reached for the ornament to put it back in her hair and the chain across her chest.

She showed herself 'unofficially' to few. Appearance was very important to her, after all, appearance can say a lot about a person, create different impressions. What impression would the Queen make with her clothes unbuttoned, her hair only half-done, her head lowered and her back hunched?

Of course, there were a few people who could see her like that and she didn't feel uncomfortable with it. Among them Missandei, with whom they often done each other's hair. Or Ser Arthur, who was like a father to her. Daario, with whom she had shared many nights, could also be counted in this group. She remembered how on Dragonstone, after a sleepless night, she had stumbled upon Tyrion in the corridor, who had seen her in more sloppy clothing because of it, which frustrated her a bit. He said they could trust each other, but she seemed to want to prove something all the time.

She ran her hands through the strands of hair on the sides of her face and finally went to the door, opening it. At first she thought it was Tyrion who had come to talk to her about what had happened during the meeting, so she looked down instinctively, but her gaze met someone's chest, so she quickly lifted it.

Robb.

She had some hope that it would turn out to be him, but she tried to convince herself that it was just her imagination.

"Can I?" he asked, of course he meant if he could come in.

She didn't answer, only feeling her heart speed up she let go of the door and moved aside, making room for him. While he closed the door behind him, she took off the things she had just put on to open the door. She put them back on the dresser and stood in front of the mirror, reaching her hand to her hair and starting to unbraid it.

"Are you afraid?" he didn't know how to start a conversation or how to actually say what he wanted. Right after he said it he thought that it might not be the best start, but someone had to start somewhere, and it didn't look like she wanted to do it.

For a second her hands in her hair stopped. He surprised her with that question.

Fear had accompanied her most of her life. Even when she had nothing to lose but her life, it was worth a lot in itself, wasn't it? All the more so because she was the last of the dynasty. Then, when she started to gain, she was afraid of losing what she had. As her relationships with her friends developed more and more, she also began to fear losing them more and more.

But most of all... Most of all, she's probably afraid of failure. Letting down all those who believed in her, entrusted their lives to her, and followed her. Her fall means the fall of thousands of people.

Stupid, that's not what he means.

"I won't die," she replied confidently and in line with what she believed in. "I'm afraid for those who are dear to me." she added, casting him a look through the reflection in the mirror.

"Life without some hurts more than death itself."

By now, she had finished unbraiding the last braid and turned to him. He was looking at some undefined point, so she guessed he was recalling what he had just said. She had heard about the Red Wedding much earlier than he had told her about his experiences, but to hear it first-hand... It hit much harder.

"I believe in destiny, it makes it easier to accept certain things." she said, clearly tearing him out of his thoughts.

"You look beautiful with your hair down." he complimented her, his gaze roaming over her face and briefly over her figure.

She knew it was just an attempt to distract her from what he was going through inside. She wanted to help, especially since she wanted to occupy an important place in his heart, and she couldn't even be sure if it was free. And what if this was her last chance? Since she had terrible experiences behind her, maybe she would be able to reach him and become his oasis, and he hers?

He thought he had already worked through it. That after all... After all, he could move on, but... He wouldn't be able to do it alone.

"I've never met him, like most of the people they teach you about. But I've heard a lot of rumors, even from Tywin himself, sometimes he liked to talk to me. From them I know that Walder Frey would betray you anyway, no matter what you did." she stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, then sliding it lower, and finally squeezing lightly above his elbow. "They're dead, and you're alive. They're in the past, don't stay there with them."

Selaria, Daenerys, Ser Barristan... I hope I haven't let them down completely, that if there's something after death, they're at least a little proud of me.

"I know how it feels." she said quietly, taking another step closer. "I think about them, almost every day, I do, but I've accepted those losses. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have had my dragons, my army, I wouldn't be where I am, I wouldn't have helped all these people and... I wouldn't have..." she hesitated, biting her lower lip. Her heart was pounding with emotion, she didn't know what the outcome of what she was going to say would be.

She fell silent. At the same time, she really wanted and didn't want to say it. It got stuck in her throat and she couldn't take it back or throw it out. She may break off the sentence or finish it. She was never a coward, and yet she was on the verge of backing out. If he hadn't just looked up and looked her in the eye, she would have done it.

"I wouldn't have you." she finished in a whisper, and then immediately looked away. "If I... If I have you." she added, and it was a good thing she had hurried, because she would not have been able to say anything just a moment later.

Robb took her face in his hands and lifted it slightly, kissing her right on the lips. Encouraged, she immediately returned the caress. His lips were softer than she expected, even if she had already realized that his touch could be firm but still gentle. They pulled away only when they ran out of breath.

"I am yours, for the rest of my days, even if you are not mine." they remained close enough that she felt his lips on hers as he spoke.

"I am." she replied, but very quickly and quite indistinctly, because she stood on her tiptoes and initiated another kiss.

She wanted it. She wanted it so much that the layers of clothes that separated them ached as she threw her arms around his neck to get closer. She felt hands gripping her waist tightly, as if they were afraid that she might leave. She removed one hand from the back of his neck and began blindly untying Robb's leather shirt, still actively participating in each of their kisses.

Her body fit so perfectly in his arms, as his hands roamed her back, that it was like a dream. He still held her close with one hand, and pushed the other between their bodies to unbutton her coat, but even the rush in which they undressed each other was not enough. They both wanted to feel each other as close as possible as soon as possible, they had waited long enough for this. Now was not the time for sweet words and confessions, but for the action of bodies desiring each other.

The tops of their clothes quickly found themselves on the floor, it was harder with the trousers, which got tangled at the shoes and it took more commitment to kick them off - yes, not take them off but kick them off, because their hands were already busy exploring bare skin or buried in hair. In one quick movement, bending down and catching her under the thighs, he lifted her up and threw her on the bed a few steps away. She smiled through the kiss, he could feel it.

"M-m." she managed to squeeze two fingers between their lips to push him away for a moment. "Not in dirty shoes to my bed."

He laughed briefly, burying his face in her neck, momentarily immersing himself in the wonderful scent of her skin. She was all wonderful, both inside and out. The best person he had ever met in his life, so pure and... impossibly perfect. If this was just an pretense, then he didn't want to know the truth, he'd rather stay in this sweet illusion for the rest of his life. He wanted to wake up next to this woman every day, feel her warmth next to him, braid her silver, soft hair for her, be the reason she would smile. After all, her smile was beautiful, it warms heart, but  appears so rarely. He wanted to surround her with love and adoration, because that's what she deserved. To worship her, to make love to her from sunset to sunrise and even longer, if she allowed it. With her, nothing could end badly, with her everything made sense, with her he felt fulfilled. If he won't be inside her in a moment...

After a few kisses planted in the crook of her neck, he sat up - reluctantly, because she was combing his curls so wonderfully - grabbing her tightly around the waist and pulling her along. She laughed gently and rested her foot on her knee, starting to untie her right shoe. Every now and then they glanced at each other, and taking off their shoes was like a race.

They finished at about the same time. Visenya took the opportunity to reach out, prop on his shoulder and straddle him. She immediately felt hands on her hips, which then slid down to her buttocks and squeezed them. She took his face in her hands, stroking her thumbs over his stubble. Once again she looked into those blue eyes, as intense as Maelia's scales when they sparkled in the sun. Ever since she saw them in her dream she hadn't been able to get them out of her head, even when she was with Daario. And now they were finally together. She felt in her lower abdomen how much she needed him at that moment, and if that wasn't enough, the situation between her legs only intensified that feeling.

He's so... perfect - with that she leaned down and started kissing his jaw, almost immediately feeling the open-mouth kisses on the side of her face. It made her feel even warmer, plus her hair surrounded her entire back, as well as his shoulders. It was as if they created an even more private space in an already closed room.

She reached between them and grabbed him, causing Robb to sigh loudly - and herself as she lifted her hips and then, with his assurance, lowered them. She slid her hands from his face to his neck and shoulders, gripping them tightly as she breathed deeply, getting used to the feeling of being filled. Robb pulled her by the nape so that their foreheads rested against each other. Words were so unnecessary. No poet, not even the best, could convey what a look, a touch, a breath or hearts beating in unison could. Even valyrian, the most perfect language, could not convey it. It could only be felt and understood with reciprocated love.

After the rush to get rid of all the barriers between them as quickly as possible, came this moment of silence, of peace. When bodies merged into one, just like hearts, and communication occurs subconsciously.

A few minutes of sweet pause passed and again desire began to demand fulfillment. Both of Robb's hands were on her hips again, encouraging her to raise them herself and then lower them again. She did so, slowly moving up and down, savoring every moment when pleasure shot through her body like lightning. She moved her hands from his shoulders to his hair, tangling them between dark curls, when he leaned down and began to tease her breasts with his tongue. Unhurriedly, with deliberation, first one received attention, then the other. Lips kissed and caressed, tongue left wet traces, and stubble teased the skin, especially delicate on her breasts. Then the caresses accumulated in the central point between them, causing more shivers as the kisses went higher and higher. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, feeling him gently reach her chin.

His hips began to meet her calm up and down movements, which clearly suggested impatience. She smiled gently, straightening her head and combing his hair. She was about to say something, maybe even joke about his impatience, but then Robb's arms tightly grabbed her waist and she only managed to gasp loudly in surprise when he turned her onto her back. His lips found hers in a passionate kiss, not waiting for any invitation, just inviting himself inside with his tongue. He grabbed her calf and threw her leg over his hip, creating a better position for intense thrusts.

A moan escaped Visenya's lips - the first of many - only slightly muffled by the kiss, and her nails dug into his nape and back, surely leaving some mark. When she kept her leg hanging on his hip on her own, he slid his hand down, to her thighs. The skin on the inside of them was soft and smooth as silk, but the top of them was an even nicer place. One he wished he could never leave. And he wasn't the only one with an impossible wish for this moment to never end. It was obvious from her reactions that her only regret was that neither of them found in his heart to do it sooner.

While Robb and Visenya were enjoying each other and the feelings they had finally admitted to, Jon stopped outside the chamber. He wanted to tell her what he had learned from Sam and Bran. They barely knew each other, but she had to know that they were related, that they were half-siblings. He didn't know how she would react, but it was the right thing to do.

He stopped with his hand just over the door's surface, he was about to knock on it, but he heard sounds from inside that suggested only one thing - and it was certainly not a good time to interrupt, whoever was there with her, although he had his suspicions.

So he left, deciding that he will tell her everything the next day.

~

Not to mention that Valaerya had been irritated by her sister's behavior most of the time. She could understand her dislike for Alicent and her desire to escape the problems of the court, but it was her duty as the heir to the Iron Throne. Especially now, when their father was getting worse and the Hightowers had gained more power than ever before. She was afraid of what would happen when her father died, and that would certainly be sooner rather than later...

They were just walking through the Red Keep, despite the cane he was also leaning on her. Despite everything, she was glad that he wasn't just lying in bed, and that he wanted to leave the room and go for walks - even if only for a short while. It meant that he hadn't given up yet, and that was worth its weight in gold in their current situation. As long as he lived, they were at least relatively safe.

They went to the terrace, where as always a chair was waiting for Viserys, in which she helped him sit down, adjusting the pillows under his back.

"What a beautiful day we have today." he said, breathing deeply - partly enjoying the truly wonderful weather, and partly tired of coming here from his chambers. He turned his gaze to her, or at least the one eye that remained, the other one the Maesters had removed, since he couldn't see anything with it anyway, and it was supposed to help stop - or at least slow down - the unknown disease. "You're glowing." he stated, smiling at her sincerely.

It was one of those rare moments during the day when he was happy. When his daughter was with him. Just like that, she just was there. She didn't have to say anything, it was enough for her to listen to what he had to say or even spend time in silence, which wasn't uncomfortable.

He loved looking at her. She wasn't just the image of her mother, she reminded him of the glorious history of conquest - maybe because of the clothes she wore. Additionally, her name brought to his mind the image of Old Valyria, which he had always been so fascinated by. But that wasn't all. Her appearance brought to him memories of his own youth. She didn't seem older than the day after the twentieth name day.

Valaerya smiled back, clasping her hands under her slightly outlined belly. She was glad that she had managed to get pregnant again - after all, so much time had passed since Visenya's birth, she was afraid that she wouldn't have any more children. Besides, her father seemed to be heartened by the news of another grandchild.

"Thank you, father." she said, although she had to admit that every time she looked in the mirror she felt uneasy.

She should be glad that neither her face nor any other part of her body showed any signs of aging - after all, anyone else in her place would have been over the moon. But she couldn't help but wonder why, but she never came up with an answer.

Standing and looking out at the city spread out before them, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. As if someone's gaze was fixed on her back, which only added to her discomfort.

"I'll have some tea brough for us." she said, so she could look around unnoticed.

It wasn't hard to see who was watching her. As soon as she turned back to the keep to accosted a servant, she saw Aemond standing in the doorway. She passed him, locking eyes with him for a moment. It didn't take long for someone to pass by, and she told the servant to bring the king some tea. As she was returning to the terrace, a voice stopped her.

"Sister."

She stopped and turned slowly, forcing a gentle smile onto her face.

"Is something wrong, Aemond?" she asked, tilting her head. She didn't like the sudden attention from her younger brother, especially since it wasn't the first time she'd noticed him in her vicinity. "Do you want to spend some time with your father?" she added when he didn't answer.

"I'd rather not." he replied dryly, but not taking his eye off her.

She didn't say anything more, just went back to her father, but perched on on the railing so she could see Aemond, who hadn't moved from his spot. She was tempted to go over and tell him to leave, but she didn't want to start any unnecessary conflicts. After a few minutes, however, it began to bother her and she couldn't ignore it.

"Maybe I could read something to you?" she suggested to her father, tearing her eyes away from her brother.

"That would be wonderful. If only it could be a story-"

"I know, I'll get something." she interrupted, stepping away from the railing. She leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, smiling - in a forced way, but perhaps he didn’t notice.

She didn’t mind reading to her father, especially since his eyesight had gotten worse, but this time she used it as an excuse to go and talk to Aemond, who annoyed her with the way he kept looking at her.

She grabbed his arm tightly as she passed him. He didn’t resist, allowing her to pull him down the hall, a sly smile on his face.

"May I ask what you’re doing, dear brother?" she asked, trying to keep her voice flat, but she couldn’t stop the suagry tone from creeping into her question.

"Is it something forbidden?" he replied innocently, as if he really didn’t realize that Valaerya didn’t like what he was doing.

"I’m uncomfortable with this." she answered truthfully, letting go of his arm and instead crossing her arms over her chest.

"Why?"

She took a deep breath, so that her nerves wouldn't get the better of her. She usually didn't run into her siblings too often.

Not that she hadn't saved a few servants from Aegon over the years, trying to root out his behavior - even though she wasn't his mother, but she clearly hadn't been up to the task of raising her son with her father. His older sister might not have been any kind of authority figure to him, but at least he pretended to listen to her as she explained why it couldn't be done. Every time, she wanted to tell him that the next time she finds out about something like this, she'd find someone who would treat him the way he treated those girls, but she held herself back. What good would it do if she intimidated him if he still didn't understand why he couldn't act like that - If she'd even scare him. Well, she hadn't heard anything alarming in months, so maybe she had finally managed to achieve something - or maybe Aegon had learned to hide it well enough. She was disgusted and repulsed by everything he had done in his life, but at least she could try to prevent further harm.

Alicent tried to keep Halaena at distance from her, and she was well aware of that. Alicent had always thought Valaerya would be a bad influence on her only daughter. When Halaena gave birth to the twins, they almost had a fight in the middle of labor, precisely because Alicent absolutely did not want Valaerya there. The princess was willing to let it go, so as not to cause trouble, but then Halaena asked her mother to let her sister stay with her.

On second thought, she had the least contact with Aemond, rarely even accidentally bumped into him - apart from the fact that the Red Keep was huge, and neither of them spent all day there.

Though who knows, maybe he saw her more often than she saw him. Since he did not talk to her, and only stood in the distance, his gaze roaming over her body, from the top of her head to the heels of her shoes.

"I have a husband I care about very much. And I would rather he did not beat my younger brother to death over some stupid idea of ​​his." she explained rather evasively. "Don't do that again." she added in a much more blunt tone, walking away towards the king's chambers, to get the book she had promised to bring.

* * *

Returning to the chambers in the early afternoon, she expected her eleven-year-old daughter to throw herself at her, longing for her. However, she found something else: Daemon, spending time with her. He was sitting in an armchair with her on his lap and teaching her Valyrian, from what she had managed to notice.

She held back a sigh. It seemed that they were seeing each other less and less. She guessed that Daemon was not coping well with his brother's illness and instead of facing reality, he preferred to avoid it.

She didn't say a word, but they noticed her quickly. Visenya quickly jumped off her father's lap and ran to her, hugging her.

"Will you go with me and dad to the Dragonpit?" she asked, taking a step back and looking up at her.

"Of course, my dear." she smiled at her, moving hand through her daughter's loose hair. She noticed that there was a ring on Visenya's finger - she hadn't taken it off since Daemon had given it to her. It was the same as hers, she remembered her husband giving it to her after their daughter was born.

At least she is happy. She has no idea how uncertain the future is.

"But you won't go like that, will you? Unless you want to ruin your dress. Oh, and sit still for two hours waiting for Lara to comb your hair?"

The girl laughed at her mother's words.

"Then I'll go and change. But wait for me!" she ran out of the chamber, followed quickly by Lara, one of her servants.

They were left alone. Neither of them said a word as the door closed. They just stared at each other, Daemon crossed his legs and looked away, perhaps a little embarrassed by his attitude towards his brother's illness.

"Daemon." she approached and stood next to the armchair, resting her hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Love." he turned back to her,grabbing her waist and pulling her a little closer so he could rest his head on her stomach.

"If you care about me so much, you could start supporting me." she replied, her tone quite sharp, even though her hand was gentle as she lifted it and ran it through his hair.

"I’m here."

"More for her than for me." she moved her other hand to his chin and lifted it up so he looked at her. "He is your brother."

"And she is our daughter, she has her whole life ahead of her-"

"I do not choose between my father and my child. And the longer he lives, the longer our fate is certain, and the war is distant." it was a very cold view of the situation, as if Viserys was more of a pawn on the board than a living person, but unfortunately that was how it was. Especially since his condition was getting worse day by day, she could see it.

Daemon would see it too, if he did not avoid seeing his brother. On the one hand, she understood it, because she herself watched with sadness how her father's life was becoming more and more fragile, and she could do nothing about it. But she loved him, no matter what had happened in the past, he was her parent, she had many pleasant memories of how he took care of her. She could not imagine leaving him to slowly die surrounded by vipers.

"Would you like Visenya to leave you like this when you're old and sick?" she asked.

"I'd rather die in fight before that." he let go of her and put his hands on the armrests, tapping them lightly with his fingers. "As for Visenya... We should talk." he stood up.

She frowned. She didn't like the sound of that. What could possibly be relevant to their daughter now? Had she done something bad? No, definitely not, she's such a lovely child...

"What's there to say?"

"The matter of her getting married."

For a moment she didn't know what to say, until a loud laugh escaped her lips, as if Daemon had just told the best joke she'd ever heard. She braced herself with her hand on the back of the chair she was still standing by. But her laughter quickly stopped when she realized Daemon was completely serious.

"I'll pretend I misheard." she said, the smile disappearing completely from her face.

"We know how uncertain even the coming days are, and this is one of the few things we can do to protect ourselves: arrange for Visenya and Jace to be engaged."

"As far as I know, Rhaenyra plans to talk to Rhaenys, and betroth the boys to Laena's daughters. And what would be best for our situation would be for Rhaenyra to be in the capital, so that when father dies she can take the throne and crown herself the Queen." she pointed out what had been annoying her for a long time. "That's all." she emphasized it, wanting to show that this conversation should end here, but anyone who knows Daemon knows that if he wants to have his way, he will.

"That won't stop the rumors about the boys' birth."

"And how would Visenya silence them?"

"Because she is ours, and above all yours, in a direct line from the current king, completely of Valyrian blood. By doing so, she will strengthen his position, and one day they will rule together-"

"And what does it matter what people say?" she interrupted him. "There is no doubt that the boys are Targaryens. Only the Velaryons may feel offended, and it is their support that we must remember and worry about."

"I would prefer - probably as much as you do - for Visenya to stay close to home, and not go somewhere to the other part of Westeros." he tried to force his convictions, but so far he had only succeeded in annoying Valaerya.

"No. And that's my final word. You will not marry my daughter to anyone."

As soon as he brought up the subject, she remembered how many years ago she had sat on the edge of the bed, not long after her father had fainted, and had talked to him about her marriage. He had not indicated a specific person to whom she should be bound for the rest of her life. He had said that Daemon had asked him for her hand, but that it was her decision to make, because it was about her life.

He had given her a choice, and she was very grateful for it. That was why she would not make decisions for her daughter, and she would not let anyone else make them for her.

"I want her to have the same choice as I did." she replied slowly, approaching him. "Do you think you would be my husband if I didn't agree to it?" she looked at him from the bottom to the top, as if with contempt. "I could have said 'no' and that would have been the end of your dreams about me. I could have chosen from all the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms and who knows... Maybe I would have been happier." she added the last sentence not so much believing in it, but to hurt him.

Truth be told, she didn't know who else she could bond with and be happier with. She didn't feel like her heart had a chosen one for whom she would be ready to tear it out of her chest. Sometimes she wondered if she wouldn't feel best if she was alone. But then there would be no Visenya, her most beloved person in this vile world...

"No one would care for you like I do, no one would do more for you than I do!" he replied. Clearly her words, which were meant to hurt, had fully fulfilled their role.

"Everyone would be eternally grateful for a connection to the court and heirs who would ride dragons!" she walked past him, spreading her hands to the sides in frustration. She snorted, rested them on her hips and turned to him. "Do you really think I would let some Lord rule over me? That I would let you rule my life and that of my daughter?!"

"She's also my daughter!"

"And Viserys is your brother, yet you act as if you don't care about him!" she pointed out. "You said you loved him, that you loved me. I don't want the kind of love that only exists when it's easy!"

She moved away and approached the table, leaning her hands against it, because she suddenly felt weak after this outburst of anger. She didn't want to hear anything from him anymore, not a single word, not even a murmur. He wanted to do something like that to her daughter, her only daughter, her only child for now, the apple of her eye...

It seemed to her that he loved her as much as she did, but maybe she was wrong... Maybe what they say is true and women love their child differently, more than anyone else in the world can, she is with her child from the very beginning, protects it her whole life...

She felt a surge of emotion, as if she was about to cry. Her daughter... Still so young. Her little flower, her sun, her brightest star in the night sky. She would do everything to make her live in health and happiness. She couldn't live her life for her, so she wouldn't dictate it to her either. When she will be old enough to understand all this... When perhaps her heart will beat faster for some young man... Then she will make this decision about her future. And no matter what it is, she will support her in it.

"Sweetheart..." he approached her and hugged her gently, resting his head against hers and speaking quietly into her ear. "You yourself are talking about what will happen when the king dies, what we must do to win the coming war as soon as possible, to ensure a safe future for ourselves. If Visenya marries Jace, it will unite the family - or at least the real part of it. That will be the first step-"

She didn't even say a word, she didn't know what she could say, as if she wasn't thinking at that moment. She grabbed a vase with a few flowers, standing on the table, which she was leaning against. She turned - at the same time moving away from Daemon as much as she could - and broke the vase on his head.

The glass, before it fell to the floor - or individual pieces dug into his skin - injured the side of his head and part of his face, although she thought he didn't feel it yet, looking at how shocked he was by what she had done.

He almost fell over from the force of the blow and instinctively covered the sore spot with his hand, but the pain was only just beginning to creep into his consciousness. There was silence, dead silence. They looked at each other, Valaerya's eyes getting watery, but she didn't seem to regret what she had done.

He doesn't understand, he doesn't understand anything, absolutely nothing.

She slowly let go of the edge of the table, not even realizing how hard her hand had gripped it. She turned and started to leave the room, not thinking that she could have even killed him, that she should call for the Maester. The only thing on her mind was that she had hit him.

She raised her hand and rubbed her eyes, expecting tears, but she was surprised to find that there were none.

She had never stood up to anyone like that, had never fought so hard for her reasons, had never wanted to get her way so badly. What she was feeling was strangely... Very liberating. She is not someone who can be disposed of left and right, and she can show it. She is not anyone, she is not like everyone else. She is the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, she is a Targaryen, she has dragon blood in her.

I hit him. I really hit him.

I can do anything.

She can and will make people listen to her when she wants them to. She wasn't born to be a quiet, obedient girl, at the beck and call of men who would decide her future, but to stand up to those very people. To prove to them that they are not all-powerful, that their egos are bigger than their capabilities.

She slowly left the room, closing the door behind her. With each passing moment, the shock she was in was letting up a little. She wanted to go to Visenya's room, to see if she was ready. She would go with her to the Dragonpit herself.

However, the more the shock wore off, the worse she felt.

"Princess?"

She didn't even have the strength to respond to Criston in some sarcastic way. She already thought she had managed to escape from him or Alicent had finally decided that she didn't need to hear about her every step. Eventually, she leaned back against the wall, pressing her hand to her stomach. Something was wrong.

"Princess, are you okay?" he stopped next to her, frowning.

"Gods..." she said quietly through clenched teeth and with another wave of pain, she slid down to the floor against the wall.

"Call the Maester, now!" he called, but it didn't seem like anyone was nearby. He grabbed Valaerya by the arm and tried to pull her to her feet, but it didn't look like she'd be able to get up anytime soon. He cursed under his breath, crouched down, scooped her in his arms and got up.

~

I don't usually leave notes, but I had "Breakin' Dishes" on my headphones when I wrote Valaerya breaking a vase on Daemon's head, quite ironic, thought I'll share this with you.

-> general masterlist -> Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon masterlist