XLIV.

After having slept one of her, lately, typical naps after lunch, surely the product of her more advanced stage of pregnancy, Lya was finishing reviewing the household's ledgers along with Thucydides.

"Are my sums correct?" she asked the boy, whom during the march of the column was used a little for everything. Although nominally the young braavosi was the court scribe, he also acted as steward and accountant.

Parmeion examined her ledger book and them his notes, tapping with his quill on one line of his parchment.

"If we don't add the expenses to be made in this city in the future, your sums are correct, my princess." the boy replied. "But if we add it up, it would be around two hundred thousand, two hundred fifty thousand gold dragons more. Which would bring to around seven hundred twenty thousand gold dragons spent since the column left the Lost Daughter."

"And how much have we confiscated, looted and taxed?" she asked.

"Difficult to calculate in coins my princess, since are mostly jewelry, ornaments and raw materials. But it could be close to four hundred thousand, four hundred fifty thousand."

"Good. In your parchment to the Bank indicate the total expenditure, including the maximum foreseen for Ghoyan Drohe, as well as what we have obtained and the balance between both." she said curtly, though without aloofness. It was the tone she adopted automatically and almost without realizing it when she carried out tasks that were her duty. And this was a tone that she was used to use.

Since she was a little girl, due to her mother's death and her older brothers fosterages, she had always helped in running the household. As cold, greedy, stern and strict as was her father, and despite Maester Walys's objections, he always counted on her to run the house and the North. It was not a few times that she, since she was barely ten and three days of her name, had sat on the stone throne of the Kings of Winter in the Great Hall of Winterfell when her lord father was absent in some visit to their bannermen.

Although it was not the most common thing in the North, it was not something totally exceptional either. Her friend Maege and her daughters, as well as the lasses from the mountain clans were accustomed with the running of the households shoulder with shoulder along with the males from their houses. In Dorne for example, it wasn't something unheard of either, and even the women were the heir in case of being the first born, being raised as heiress to their houses.

In her case, when her older brother was around in Winterfell, with Brandon's proclivities, he considered the running of the household a trivial matter to which his wife would tend in the future. So she never had any help besides that of her father sometimes would give and learned from own experience.

Brandon's line of thought about the how the household should be ran was shared by Ned, leaving all of that matters to the hateful trout, at least until she told him otherwise after her coming among the living again.

'If Ned would have ever worried about his own household, he would have known about the mental mistreatment to what my Aegon had been subjected and maybe my son wouldn't have felt that his only way out was to die by his own hand. Mayhaps he would be less somber and brooding. Or maybe it doesn't matter because my son's destiny was to die in order to be reborn.'

She mused sadly about a topic barely talked among her son and his parents. A topic that within the betrayals of her brother, was the most hurtful to her.

'If only Aegon had felt welcomed by his uncle and seen as more than a mistake or a tarnish in Ned's honor, Ned's betrayal would have been more tolerable. But my brother's distant and aloof treatment of my son, allowing the trout's scorn and treatment, as well as Ned's plans to send Aegon to the Wall, are things I would never forgive Ned for.'

"There is it, my princess. Now I only need your seal on this one and I will send one copy to master Izembaro and one to magister Prestayn. The sealed one I'll add it to the account ledger for magister Fugger."

The scribe said, taking her out from her musings while putting in front of her a parchment neatly penned divided in six columns full of letters and numbers.

She pulled from under her linen sky blue tunic her pendant with the seal over her head, while Thucydides heated the lead wax over the parchment that would go into the ledger. Once the young scribe spilled enough, Lya with her left hand pressed her seal onto the melted white lead wax in the bottom right corner of the parchment.

"With this, all is done for today, your excellence." said the young scribe standing up from his chair in front of Lya, while grabbed the ledger, the scrolls and parchment from the desk. Something to which she answered with a nod and a sincere smile towards the scribe.

Lya's duty since the re-founding from the Freehold, was not something new to her. Maybe in a larger scale and with a superior station, but in the end it was the same duty she had carried almost all of her life.

It really was a shared duty, since Rhaenys also managed the household, although her daughter-in- law was more a politician than an accountant, leaving her with the daily management of the household and its expenses. Not to mention that Nys, along with Arya, at that time were surely already in the city of Nymeria waiting for them. So with their departure the next day from Ghoyan Drohe towards Ny Sar, Lya had to tie all the knots regarding the administration of Ghoyan Drohe now that it was part of the domains from the Freehold and House Targaryen. While Rhaegar dedicated himself with the law of one, ten and fifty, the census and compartmentalizing and delimiting the domains that the city would exercise in its surroundings. Her mother-in-law was in charge of selecting new personnel for the service and administration among the population.

Since she and her husband had come to the marching column, she had felt better in her role, embracing it more. Though it was rougher and harder for her in her state, she was more sprightly and chirpy than in Braavos when having continuous luxury courtly lunches, dinners, gatherings, petitions or being locked up in her palace quarters.

Maybe it was her upbringing or her way of being, but she felt more happy and in tune within the army, the frenzy of the march, the banter with the women of the rear echelon of the column or riding a horse along with Rhaegar, than being every moment aware of what and how she talked, moved, posed and acted.

It was a harder, but simpler and freer life than that of the court and that of noble lady. A life more akin to what she always dreamed.

'Pregnancy apart.' Lya thought slightly amused and somewhat annoyed that her last two years of living life she's been pregnant.

In a morbid way of seeing it, her death and later coming back among the living, had shedding her from almost all of those restraints she whole heartily hated. And the ones that remained, absolutely different from those she expected to have and more related to how was she and Fate, than as restraints themselves.

'There's the threat from beyond the Wall...and the Game of Thrones I suppose. Politics is never an easy affair, and the hunger of power some people have, could be even more dangerous than the Others and their magic. Though; I can hardly judge them can I? After all, my hunger for freedom caused thousands of deaths. But now, now I have everything I ever dreamed of, and my son should be the one to vanquish Death. Does that help compensate for all the deaths I caused... perhaps, perhaps not. Either way, I now have everything I wanted, a loving husband instead of an oaf who only sees me as a broodmare, one who accepts me instead of forcing me to become a proper lady,

one who gave me a perfect son and daughter to dote upon, and I have a chance to redeem myself by helping my son set the world to rights. I must not squander it.' Lyanna thought with resolve.

She mused dreamily and happily, her loins still sore after a week in which every night she had been taken by Rhaegar in every way imaginable.

'Encouraged by me every night to take me.' Lya thought as she almost blushed in front of Parmeion.

Lya didn't know if her almost out of proportion libido was due to her pregnancy or because of seeing her husband's inner dragon awaken in front of her.

Although she would have liked to meet her nephew on better terms for the first time, Lya understood where her husband was coming from and the reason for his intimidating and imposing reaction.

'He did what Jaehaerys did with Lord Rogare Baratheon, albeit a little much more intimidating.' She thought remembering what Rhaegar told her after the battle was done and from where he had

the inspiration for his threat.

'Ghost, Summer and Stormy also helped to enhance the threat. It was a miracle that Arthur did not piss on himself.' Lya mused between proud of her husband and how he defended her, and being sad about the lies and mental image her nephew had from his father's house.

She was able to see her husband awakening his dragon because during the battle for the capture of the city, upon the hill Lya had felt helpless as she had felt only once before in her two lifetimes.

'And being locked up in the Tower of Joy while everyone I loved died without me being able to do anything, it's not something I like to remember often.'

It was for this reason that, without the need to persuade Rhaella too much, once they got news that Gerion's detachment advance had broken into the city and with the complicity of Istarnië and Narion, they marched in pursuit of Rhaegar and the ford over the Rhoyne.

There they'd arrived and what a scene she had behold.

Rhaegar's armor with some scratches and a bolt embedded on his backplate, with blood and gore spill over it. The sword coated in blood from their enemies and her shield chipped from blows to her husband, proving her right in leaving it to him. His silver straight hair matted under his helm and protruding from the nape. Her husband's handsome, round angular pale marble face with slightly splashes from blood, with a glare that expelled flames and burned where it landed. His eyes two pools that simmered in between deep purple and indigo.

It was an image from Rhaegar that still give her chills. At the sight she felt a warm glow within her chest that warmed her face.

In her previous life she had seen him in Harrenhal's jousts, training with Arthur and Os and even she had fought against him when they first met. But that Rhaegar was a different person from the one she had seen on the Rhoyne's ford a week ago. Her husband now was a warrior, not a bard playing with swords and lances.

And by the gods that made her horny like she had never imagined something would make. Since the capture of the city, she was following in the steps of her daughter with Aegon, and there was not a night in which half from the army didn't hear them.

It was as it were after they married, but somewhat different. More passional, more needy, more desperate and animal.

Lya even thought that maybe their companions, Winter and Vhagar, could be affecting them. Because some nights it was as if they were beasts in heat mating.

A knock on the door of the rooms where the royal solar had been installed, brought her out from her lusty reverie.

"Who's coming?" Lya asked, knowing well that the knock on the door was from Istarnië.

There was not any reply from the soldier woman, meanwhile the door opened, giving way to her husband.

"It's me my dear wife." Rhaegar answered warmly and with a smile grazing his lips once he crossed the solar's threshold. "I've already came back from allocate grant's of land, but I need to lend Thucydides from you to help me for the limits markers." ended her husband while nodding towards the young scribe, whom bowed.

Rhaegar wore a velvety scarlet robe with threads of silver in the neck underlining the white linen shirt under it. On the left side of the chest, also threaded in silver trim, the three-headed rampant dragon. Baggy black breeches tucked under his black high knee riding leather boots with spurs on the heels. Rhaegar's golden head circlet with rubies fashioned her husband hair as a halo around his perfect face, down to his neck. His gaze was vibrant and serene.

The latter something which only had come again once they've received the tidings of Bran from what had happened in Pentos.

'I think that knowing that his sister is safe, has lifted a weight off him. But, I don't know what he's waiting for to tell his mother. Sometimes I feel like I should tell her...but Aegon and Rhaegar are who needs to explain to Rhaella.'

Lya mused before she warmly and with some mirth said;

"You're in luck, my dear husband. Because we've just finished from going over the household ledgers and we have closed the balance of expenditure and income to date."

"And what's our margin as the Free Bank's main investors? I hope we aren't broke yet." quipped her husband.

"My prince, if I could?" shyly asked the scribe, anticipating her in the reply to Rhaegar.

Her husband looked at her, to which she shrugged while raised her right eyebrow and half pursed her mouth. Afterwards their exchange, Rhaegar nodded towards the scribe with a forced smile typical of her husband when tried to be polite and amicable.

'I think that except those from the family, nobody knows that that isn't Rhaegar's true smile. Sometimes it's no difficult to see the similarities in behavior and pose between father and son. Stiff and stark as they alone themselves and with null social enchant. Maybe is the weight they both feel fall on them? It's almost as if they are awkward around people to whom they do not share blood or bed.'

Lya mused as always as she was witness to the interactions from both of them, unable to explain why her son and husband were in that way when in public or doing their duty.

'It's not that they're rude or impolite. Quite the contrary. But they always impose that feeling of aloofness and distance from the rest of the world that is not us in the family or those they blindly trust. And the latter are rare to find in the lives of both.'

While she was thinking about that, Parmeion stated; "House Targaryen is currently in a proportion of almost six to one. If it continues in this rate of growth, maybe in two and half years house Targaryen would own more than half from the investment in the Bank."

"So in three year we're going to reclaim our debts to ourselves. I see that as amusing, don't you think my lord husband?" Lya japed.

"Well, I would not say is amusing, but it's better than the best of my projections in the North." answered her husband, now with a true smile that reached his eyes, for then more curtly said, "Parmeion, if you could go to saddle your pony, Ser Dale is awaiting for you outside the Inn. Tell him that I will come out in a moment, but first I need to check somethings with my lady wife."

The young scribe knew when he was being dismissed, bowed to the two of them, for then left the solar.

Once the door was closed, Rhaegar narrowed the distance between them, sitting lazily on the desk to her left. She promptly stood from the chair, and soon the two of them were intertwined in a tangle of kisses and fondles.

"Gods, I can't wait for tonight. I can't wait to tame my big, thick, dragon." she said in a purr and sultry voice, while slightly panting. Her forehead on Rhaegar's.

"Me neither." Rhaegar replied between gasps to breathe, while he tenderly caressed her left cheek with his right calloused hand, his left arm on her lower back. "I doubt that between your pregnancy and what's we had left of the march, we will have many opportunities as in this last week."

Knowing that in the night they would have all the time in the world for themselves, she parted a bit from Rhaegar and asked in dubious tone.

"Any trace of the half-maester?"

"None. It's as if the earth has swallowed him. And albeit I still have some distrust issues towards our nephew, master Yandry was as well with our party in the sortie. So even if Arthur for some strange reason didn't recognize him, the Rhoynar should do it."

"Should we worry about that?"

"What could he do? Mopatis is no more. Connington is under our power. For what our nephew has said, the half-maester was in the Golden Company before coming to teach him. Maybe he went towards them? Maybe he would try to contact Varys? I don't know, but I think the Blackfyre plot is ended."

Rhaegar said while stretched arms and shoulders, for finally cross his hands over his lap.

"Even if Myles Toyne is the Commander of the Golden Company and he knows about what happened here, he will surely know about my dragon as well. I have no doubt he would turn on us, but that's not how the Golden Company works." he paused, shrugged while looking at her, pursing his mouth and trailed in what he intended to say to reassure her. "With no gold involved, I doubt most of the men under his command would be willing to go into open battle against a Dragon. I do not rule out that there are old Blackfyre loyalists within the ranks and some of these are in cahoots with Toyne. But from there to the Golden Company coming to fight against us of its own accord,

now that they have no claimant to the Throne... I see it as doubtful."

"The thing is that they have a pretender, Rhaegar. Lord Dayne, as it is now, and even knowing not about whom he is, could pose as a long term thorn on our side." Lya said grim.

She disliked that the half-maester escaped their grasp. It felt as if they have left something that would come to haunt them ahead in the road to their destiny. But she couldn't do anymore than what she already did. Least in her state.

'If I were without Elaena inside me, I would have ride in search of that dammed half-maester until the end of the world if needed.'

Lya got a bad feeling about the man, but Rhaegar insisted that they've cut the head from the snake, and so there would be no more danger lurking from the Blackfyres until they come face to face with Varys. Something which was bound to happen before or after, in the next five years.

Noticing her distress, Rhaegar extended his left arm towards her big belly, softly caressing with his hand

"Worry not, Lya. I will not let anything happen to you or our children, even if it costs me my life once again." He said with fire in his tones, almost swearing an oath to her. "Not even the gods would prevent me to see our family grow. Also, our son, surely will know how to deal with the Golden Company and Varys if we come to that. Remember, the half-maester for all we know, could be thinking that I'm Viserys. For sure only knows from a man in my armor, an army with the Targaryen banner and about my dragon. The gossips around our quest prior to our arrival to the city were at best wild tales, at worst all prophecies and sayings without any base."

"As Aegon and Rhaenys said it would be. Those two sometimes seems to know the future better than Bran with his green dreams. The worst of all, is that they know what will happen in base of their experiences in their past. Sometimes I'm incapable of not being in awe from them."

"Yes, they're such a pair. With Visenya at their side, it's not a mystery they've conquered Westeros with the ease they did it. If the warrior queen was half of what the two of them said she was the few times they mentioned her..."

"Rhaenys once in Braavos told me that all of the duties you and me have, were those that Visenya did for herself. Even some of your mother's. I don't know when she had the time to learn to be a sorceress." she interrupted Rhaegar.

"Isn't that a bit contemptuous? Between three of us we are barely capable of doing what she did in the past..." Rhaegar muttered somewhat bitter under his breath.

"Are you jealous from the Warrior Queen, dear husband?" she inquired with mirth. "You though that a woman couldn't be better than the silver prince?" Lya scoffed and glanced towards him with raised right eyebrow. "Visenya is the reference for a lot of girls like Arya and me for some reason, dear. Rituals and sorcery apart, she is the quintessence of what a woman as myself aspire to be. And I don't see you whining for that. Quite the contrary."

"I know, but sometimes I feel that I've to fill the boots from your brother, those from Aerion Targaryen and those of Visenya to prove myself in front of them. Maybe with Aegon we're at ease since our little chat in Forlond. But Nys? Sometimes I think that I would have to defeat Death itself for redeem myself in her eyes. I only can hope that being parent of our future children will be more simple."

"Aww. Come on Rhae. You know is not in that way. Nys could had have some pending quarrels with you, but since you two aired your relationship, I think she's been more understanding from you and you're up to your words with your actions. She will be proud of you when I tell her how you fought against de Black Dragon! You'll see!" she said while tenderly slapping Rhaegar's right shoulder. Then she trailed. "That's the reason I need to talk with Ashara and Arthur. I've to air out our qualms and quarrels. Even if it hurt."

Lya finished solemnly.

"Are you still insisting on that?" asked worriedly Rhaegar.

"She is the last person alive that saw and talked to Brandon before his death. I need to know what pushed my brother to do what he did. And I need to mend bridges with his son, Rhaegar. In a way, it's all my fault. I need that closure."

"Well...If you insist, Ash was with my mother along the washerwomen in the wash-house. Our nephew was sparring with Narion and Maloquo."

Rhaegar removed his hand from her belly and he rose from the desk. With his right hand he adjusted the collar of his robe and shirt, his ring glistening with the sun coming through the windows.

"By the way, between Gerion and my mother have already selected the political council for the city. In the same note, Gerion and I have already recruited the pages, scribes and squires bound for The Lost Daughter."

Lya sneered at that. "Call them hostages. That's what they are. Aegon and you can pretend all that you want to pretend. But we all know those are hostages."

"Maybe they're hostages, but those hostages as you call them, nowadays, prevent our new domains from revolt against us and forms bonds with the Freehold, the army and house Targaryen."

She scowled, but remained silent. She knew her husband was right. That didn't mean she had to like their practice of acquiring hostages under technicalities.

"As 'Tis a city under the direct fief from Valyria on the Rhoyne, I was thinking in give it a military administration. As we already are leaving three hundred men as garrison, why not one or two of their commanders as Magisters from the Freehold?"

"So you're also insisting on that?" she mocked her husband's previous words. Rhaegar nodded and she sighed. "I would prefer Maloquo or Araquo, but I can understand you. Those two are the best along with Araldo. I don't even know how is that they only were part from the Titan's watch."

"But it's the good thing! Don't you see Lya? Those two are the ideals for guard our inner frontier. And with their wit, cleverness and resourcefulness they sure bring this city to some of its former glory."

"Yes, I see that point. But I would lost my guard. She is so nice to have around. And always makes me feel safe."

"I recognize that in that sense, just like at the army level, their absence will be noticeable. In the same way I recognize that we need more King's Guards. Mayhaps one day we'll find a woman worthy of being wrapped in the white cloak. But all this is just words. I don't know what their opinion would be on that. Maybe they reject the offer"

Lya snorted as reply and then asked. "So you've planned to told them on the dinner, isn't?"

"That's exactly what I intend. We may ask them the things that have ourselves misplaced about them and then present our offer. My mother agrees with me, but if you don't want, I'm not going to force it."

"Don't worry, Rhae. At the end of the day, they will be at two weeks of brisk trot from our capitol and they're the best for the station. It would be selfish of me deny it because she is my friend and I want to have her by my side. Also I'm sure we'll find a woman or women worthy of the white cloak. Maybe Arya someday. Could you imagine her?"

Rhaegar gave her a somewhat funny gaze, bit the inside of his right cheek and said, "If it has a sword around it, I can imagine Arya doing whatever it is."

They both chuckled at that.

"Well, I'm going now or Dale it's going to think that I've been kidnapped. I'll be back for the dinner."

After the which her husband approached her and give her an scorching kiss, leaving her in daze.

When she regained her bearings, Rhaegar had left the solar and she was alone.

It was time to finally close her past. She had been putting off the talk for a week. She couldn't put it off any longer. Although it was likely that she would be hurt by what she knew was awaiting for, Lya owed it to Brandon.

"Care to come with me to see your husband spar?" Lya asked Istarnië once she had put her white silk shawl and left the royal's solar.

"Sure, my princess. It's always nice to see that oaf being beat." answered cheerily the copper haired woman wearing her dazzling armor, her greatsword strapped in the back. A fiery red cloak crossed her chest from left shoulder to right hip in a sash. The clasp from her cloak, a silver eight pointed

star. Without the helmet fiery hair loose in long flowing cascade over her back.

Lya smiled and nodded, for then a couple steps in front of her, direct their steps towards the place where her nephew was sparring with Istarnië's husband.

The capture had done practically no damage to the city, although this did not mean that the city was in good condition. As the sun raised the day following the capture of the city, they could observe that it was really a practically ruined city.

The canals were choked with reeds and mud, and pools of stagnant water gave birth to swarms of flies. The broken stones of temples and palaces were sinking back into the earth, and gnarled old willows grew thick along the riverbanks. Dirt trails in between weeds and undergrowth were all that was left from once cobbled streets. More than half of the city's houses still inhabited were patched buildings made from scrapes of the ruins and wood. The river at it pass under the stone bridge was practically choked, piling up torn trees in its pillars.

They concentrated the population in the most sturdy buildings and assigned the idle hands in crews of workers to do those tasks that were urgently needed. Those were the pruning of trees and reeds form the canals, irrigation ditches cleaning, the removal of wrecks from the ford. As well, of the first things they did was to clear the undergrowth in the city, in the same way as they filled the pools of stagnant water with dirt. With Vhagar's help, they razzed some of the old temples and palaces to have a source for stone.

From house Targaryen and the Freehold a general pardon was extended to the entire population of the city, whether or not they had been related to the hiring of the swords for hire. Grain, wheat and cattle were granted in exchange of fealty.

And though slowly, the city was another compared to what it was a week ago. The extended grim mood of gloom and doom hanging over the city, changed for one of expectation, contemplation and some hope that the situation would result in an improvement for the city and the lives of those who inhabited it. They saw their new overlords with awe mixed with fear and respect. Something reflected in that there was not a single attempt to oppose the occupation and not a few of the young lads had enlisted in the army.

Even the weather seemed to cheered up, because since they captured the city there was not a cloud in leagues around. An inclement sun that caused unusual humidity ravaged the city of the Little Rhoyne from dawn to dusk.

Walking down the dirt paths now, outside the fresh and sturdy stone building on the banks of the Rhoyne, she felt the dampness even more, weighing on her condition. Nonetheless, she shouldered through that, even starting to get used to the hot and humid temperatures.

Lya whistled, in hopes of Ghost or Summer coming to her, since she felt more at ease when one her she-wolf's pups was around her.

Ghost's sudden appearance from the bushes behind the inn elicited a chuckle from the female soldier accompanying her. Something that was undoubtedly due to the aspect of the, at times, pristine wolf.

"It seems that the king's wolf loves to romp in the mud, your excellence." the woman said amused.

"I think you're right, friend. But you have to understand. Although he looks like an adult dog, he's barely a puppy. From what I intuit, I think the landscapes and surroundings are very curious to him. Not to mention that he seems to have no problem in eating every lizard or aquatic animal that

comes within range. Ghost is naturally suited to the North. If you saw him in the landscapes around the Wall, you'd hardly notice he's there. The only thing that lets you know he's there are his eyes, otherwise he blends in with the snow. And he's so silent. He's going to be awe inspiring when he grows and come back to the North."

"If it terrifies seeing him come from afar, I don't want to imagine the dread it must cause to find him suddenly in front of one."

Lya chuckled at that, while bending down a bit to pat her son's wolf's head. "He's a good boy with our friends." she said, scratching Ghost's neck.

Raising her gaze from the wolf to the silver eyes of the woman with her, Lya asked. "Why was a woman like you in the Titan's watch?"

While she was at it, she wanted to take advantage and ask questions she and Rhaegar had for Istarnië and her husband.

The braavosi shrugged her shoulders, raised her right eyebrow and looked up as she pursed her lips. Then looked at her, crossed her arms in the chest and answered.

"It is somewhat difficult to explain my princess." she paused, sighed, and continued. "For this you have to understand the idiosyncrasies of Braavos and its people. Especially those of us whom descend from the exiles of the Freehold. Not all of them were slaves. As in my case and in that of my husband, it were families of Valyrians not belonging to the forty, nor sworn to any of these families of dragonlords. They had no political voice, nor wealth. They were third-rate people, for even some slaves were more of the Valyrian social fabric than these families. They were the workforce and the cannon fodder from the families of the forty."

Lya straightened again, she nodded at Istarnië and resumed their walk, Istarnië now following at her left side, Ghost on the right.

"On the other hand, there were also sworn families to those of the forty with wealth but no political power." Istarnië trailed in her words, pairing her steps with those of Lya. "Families who wanted their place under the sun, so to speak. But without blood of forty, it didn't matter. One in Valyria had power depending on having a dragon. From these families descend the Nestoris and the Forel, for example. Tendyris and Prestayn as well. Practically all the great landowners of Braavos were. That was another reason why those with land voted in favor of your proposal, my princess. After all, you were offering them what they wanted in Valyria and had denied, causing them to set themselves up as the leaders of the exile. The legend remained that they were all slaves. But really less than a third of the exiles of Valyria were. In a way, it gave more humble and honorable roots to the founders of Braavos."

"I can understand that. But that does not explain why you, your husband, Araldo, Maloquo, people whom are very capable and educated, were restrained to the second echelon in the city."

"Because in a way, the status quo continued." she sighed, as she scratched the back of her neck.

"Those who had wealth soon established their supremacy over others. Forming their own echelon. Unlike in Westeros, or in Volantis, where nobility bases its power on oaths and nobility of the blood, in Braavos wealth gave and It gives nobility. Fugger is an example of this. He descends from a couple of Tyroshis who settled in the city more than a century ago. At first as simple merchants. In the third generation they took a risk with the spice market and it turned out well for them, becoming the purveyors of exotic spices to the wealthy of the city. This enabled them to

invest in the Bank. Something almost all of us of Valyrian descent have done, though generally to a lesser extent than large landowners or wealthy merchants. I think I have about half thousand, or a thousand gold dragons in the bank." the woman explained while they passed the corner from a building where some of the soldiers were swirling around some lasses and a couple of bards with lutes played the peddler's song.

Those who noticed Lya's passage with her companions bowed their heads, although they were the least of those present in the hubbub.

"So why you or your family didn't try to became keyholders? You sure seems to be more competent than Reyaan. For sure in best shape." Lya japed.

"Going through ledgers, hoarding coins, making twisted contracts...that's boring." Istarnië chuckled. Something Lya also made, because she could attest to what the red haired woman had said. "My craft really is to sculpt, but I'm also a warrior. My husband's a great blacksmith almost on par of those from Qohor, but he's one of the best warriors from his generation. Being part of the Titan's watch is a privilege restricted to those descendants of Valyria who were not in the bank or owning land. Braavos literally had no more defense than us. Water dancers are not proficient in pitched battle or sea battle. Therefore, although not among the powerful, we had a station above the rest of the inhabitants of Braavos. They needed us."

"So, you were comfortable in your roles?"

"Not comfortable, but used to. You see, the issue, my princess, is, that if you can invest in the bank while having great profit in your trade, you begin to form a virtuous circle, or that is what they call it. Circle in which the more they invest in their trade, the greater the return they have and the greater the investment they make in the bank. So until the point where they became one of the thirteen Keyholders of the bank. Generally because they bought the investment of the keyholder they replace, because one of these is going through a crisis in his trade and they need coins. Once you were Keyholder, you were noble and have power in the city. The next step was trying to acquire lands. But under Braavos domain there was not more land to acquire. So to speak, the access to lands where you could expand your trade was restringed. Almost all the great land owners are the same whom were at the founding from the city. For this reason, our families traditionally dedicated themselves to the trade of soldiers, seafarers, shipwrighters, blacksmiths and crafters. We formed a close knit, marrying between our families. That's why my husband is a second cousin of mine and I've the eyes I've. The silver irises were one of the colors prominent among those of the valyrian blood. As well as those black, indigo, sky blue and deep green. Even our names come from the archaic Valyrian. My husband's means Spirit of Fire, and mine The One Who Knows. Our son's, whom's along Varicho's reinforcements, Maitimo, means the well made."

"I will, I will go out into the tall rye, I will wait there till the night comes, Once I see the dark-eyed lass,

I will showcase all my goods."

One of the verses of the peddler's song rang in the air, now mixing along with the nearby clash of swords and the muffled sounds coming from the training grounds.

"The one who knows ehm? What would you do with your knowledge in this city?" Lya asked amused, but with certain iron in her tones.

Slowing down in their steps as they nearly reached the fence around the ground where were training many men from the army. She could saw Gerion and Araldo drilling their soldiers, while Maloquo and Araquo were training the new recruits and those whom were considered auxiliary infantry.

Near the end of the grounds almost on the little Rhoyne banks, a pair was sparring fiercely. Both of them donning black and red padded gambesons and boiled leather breeches. It was as if they were they dancing, going to and fro among theirselves, totally oblivious to the rest of the world.

Both of them were donning helmets, but at their napes she could see their hair. The taller and broader of the two had a long jet black braid hanging at his back, while the lithe and slightly shorter one had some pale blond hairs poking out his helmet.

Narion seemed to be one step ahead, forcing her nephew to be on the defensive. Blocking with the shield and deflecting with the sword the slashes and swings from the commander of the army.

While she had taken in what was present before them, Istarnië seemed to be thinking hard about how to answer the question she had asked.

'That's something I like about her. Before speaking, she always thinks twice about what she is going to say. She is not impulsive. Although it hurts me, Rhaegar is right. Either we dispense with one of the three highest ranks in the army, or Istarnië and Narion. Nowadays, the army is far from being a well-oiled machine. Araldo, Maloquo and Araquo are essential. The men in this column will form the middle ranks of all the other armies we will have. They are all being trained to the exhaustion by Aegon, Rhaegar, Jaime, Gerion. It's not going to be the numbers that would give us the final victory, I'm sure of that.'

Lya reflected as she glanced at the redhead and they closed the distance with the position where her nephew and Istarnië's husband were.

Reaching about ten meters from both of them, she leaned her left arm and foot on the fence and Ghost had lain down in the grass beside her. Her redheaded friend and guard, for her part, climbed the fence and sat to Lya's right in the direction of both fighters, though with cocked head at her.

"Raze everything except the inn, the bridge, the canals, and the irrigation ditches. Reuse all possible material to make a dozen of communal buildings two or three stories high. Cobble the streets. Using the stone from the ruined temples to build a wall where the palisade was. Eliminate all stagnant and rotten water in the city and nearby areas. Prune the surrounding forest and use it as a source of wood. Clear the bed of the Little Rhoyne. Build moorings and piers just above the Rhoyne ford. Establish trade with the Lost Daughter and Lorath in the shortest amount of time possible, especially to bring grain, wheat, rye, barley from Pentos, the Andal Coast, and the mainlands of Lorath."

The woman stopped in what she was saying, glanced sideways in the direction of her husband whom had tripped Arthur and had his sword at Lya nephew's neck and concluded.

"He's the creative one. I'm sure he would have more ideas to what to do." Istarnië said honestly for then scrunch her face and fix an inquiring gaze on her. "But why ask me, my princess? I'm just a humble warrior and a sculptress. I just know my sums, my lore and my history, but nothing more. How could I know something about ruling or running a city? What I've said it's my common sense speaking in my name."

Lya laughed at that, patted the steel plated back from the red haired woman, and said. "My friend, the common sense it's the less common of the senses. If you think you couldn't rule o run a city,

forget about that, because I would do almost the same as you've proposed. And I've been ruling the Lost Daughter for almost three moons and the North many times in my father stead. So, or we both don't know anything about ruling, or we may be onto something here." Lya smiled as she replied.

"I'm humbled and honored, my princess." sheepishly replied Istarnië.

"Good fight lad." Narion's powerful voice rang out while he patted Arthur's shoulder, as he and her nephew approached the fence where Lya and Istarnië were. Both of them had removed their helmets and had left their weapons on the rack.

"Not good enough, as my defeats prove it." said in low and disappointed tone her nephew.

"Nonsense, m'boy. I'm almost five and ten years your older, taller and stronger. Also I've more experience than you. It's logical. But know this; few could claim to be as good as you're now. In a couple of years you're going to defeat me without any trouble. You'll see. Once Ser Jaime and his grace pick up their pace of sparring with you, they'll hone you as a fresh forged blade."

For what she had seen from her nephew, she had no doubt in the truth behind Narion's words. It's true that Rhaegar beat him without any troubles, but the circumstances were entirely favorable to her husband. Also was true that Arthur had been repeatedly and soundly beaten by Araldo, Maloquo and Narion every time they'd sparred during their stay in Ghoyan Drohe for rest, train and refit from the march. But it was not less true that her nephew was a gifted swordsman. Maybe still not a warrior, but good enough to beat Syrio Forel every time they had squared up in the yards and to put in trouble to both Gerion and Ser Dale, gaining a victory once in a while against those two.

She spoke to him, trying to cheer him up. "Worry not nephew. Those against you have lost are the top crop in our ranks. Only your cousin, uncle and the Lord Commander can claim to be better than those three. Narion is right. Once you begin to spar with Aegon, you are going to be better than your late uncle and your father."

"My princess." Narion said in deep baritone voice and bowed deeply once they reached the fence.

"My lady aunt." Curtly replied her nephew while he gave a little bow. "I hope you're right. I thought I was good, but..."

"Everything one says before but is horseshit, dear nephew. Do not sell yourself short." Lya interrupted warmly.

"Heed her excellence's words, lad. My husband may be an insufferable smartass, but he's right about what he says. Beating you would cost me a lot. At best, I would say that we would draw every time. You would beat our son Maitimo, who is a year younger than you without a problem." Chimed in Istarnië.

"You see lad? The best women in the army are singing your praises." Narion slapped her nephew in the back, chuckled and said. "If a woman whom loves ya it's saying that something is in a way, you must accept that is in that way. Believe me, you don't want to argue in those instances."

They all chuckled at that, afterwards Lya inquired her nephew.

"Nephew, I'm going in search of your lady mother and her grace Rhaella to the wash-house, would you care to be my escort? I would like to leave Istarnië some quality time with her husband."

"What I've done to deserve such punishment my princess?" japed the husband in question with a horrified face. Something which was answered by a playful slap from his wife towards his left shoulder.

"What? Are you too old that are already tired to face me in the yard, husband? I'm itching to cool down your pride." quipped the copper haired woman with a toothfull smile and a twinkle.

"See Arthur? These two need to relieve their feelings." She said and giggled, the rest of them following suit.

Her nephew nodded, smiled at Narion, and climbed over the fence.

"Come on Ghost." she said as she straightened her dress and shawl, after which she extended her right arm forward "Would you give me your arm, nephew?"

Istarnië and her husband bowed towards her, meanwhile Ghost shot towards the wash-house not far from the training grounds.

Having laced her arm with that of her nephew, they began to walk in the white wolf's trail. Once they left the yards behind, an awkward silent hang above them.

Far from look towards Lya even askance, her nephew looked everywhere but nowhere in particular. She was absentmindedly fiddling her left hand with her long braid, while trying to find the words to break the silence.

"So how are you faring, nephew? How are you coping with everything?" she cautiously said, avoiding using his name, a sore topic for sure.

This one sighed, slightly shook his head and mumbled something incomprehensible to her. "What was that? I couldn't hear you."

"Excuse me, my princess. I have said that I was faring well, taking into account the circumstances."

"And that's it? And how many times I've to say that you can call me Lyanna or Lya when we're alone? We're family. We're pack, nephew."

Her nephew paused in his steps, stopping her too. With a pout and without really looking at her, he asked. "How can you be so...Oblivious? Aloof? Accepting? Don't know how to term it. But shouldn't you be more...Contrite? Distrustful of me? Less warming and near to me? I don't know, but whom I thought was my father terrifies me and he hasn't tried to talk anything with me, save to say me that I looked as my late uncle and I know not what to say to my mother, whom I've always saw as my caring and stern septa, but in truth she's my mother and a player of the Game of Thrones whom used me as her pawn..."

"Shush nephew. You're rambling. You didn't knew that you were living a lie. I can't hold you accountable for your actions. Since you know the truth, you have not do anything wrong to me or mine. As for my husband..."

Lya sighed, unlaced her right arm from that of her nephew, then placed her hand on Arthur's left shoulder and fixed her gaze on his eyes.

"I'm a martyr or a climbing whore, depending on which side one was, but him? He has got the brunt from our failures in Robert's Rebellion. You've to understand that since we came back to life in the crypts of Winterfell, Rhaegar has been branded as soft, irresponsible, irresolute and immature. First it was our son on the same night of the ritual. Then it was uncle Aemon at the Wall. Some former loyalists in the watch did not hesitate to drop some barbs at him. As you can guess, Rhaenys also gave a piece of her mind to your uncle. So when he found out about Mopatis

and Varys scheme, along with your alleged kin...And to battle in a ford, almost six and ten years after the Trident against another pretender...Let's say you unwittingly woke the dragon every Targaryen has in them... So, you could not know best and the truth is that the ways in which you met were not the best..."

"But once the fight finished, I insulted you" Arthur exclaimed in disbelief, interrupting her. "I called you things that I have found out are severely penalized in the Freehold. I denigrated your house, which in the end is the same as mine, and posed as your son. None the less, you call me family. Pack. And we barely know each other."

"And what? You expect that I'd held a grudge over those things for the rest of my days? I acknowledge and recognize my faults in the past. I screw it big six and ten years ago. But I resolved to continue forward. Fuck the past. My present and future it's what matters me now. You weren't one of my errs. You were loved before you even born. I was so excited to have a nephew to spoil rotten and to accompany my son in his life. I had envisioned yourself as the Orys to my Aegon. Your uncle Arthur was radiant thinking that he would train his successor as sword of the morning. My husband, whom which you've begin your relationship with the wrong foot, has cried bitter tears when he learned you were allegedly murdered by the Mountain. Your mother was the first woman I befriended."

At this point Lya was almost crying, her lips and voice trembling. But she shouldered through her emotions and trailed in what she intended to say.

"We barely know each other, that's true. But the same blood run through our veins. You can not imagine how much sorry I feel for everything that has befell on you. But that's the past. We can't live prisoners of this, because would eat us alive. You already must know, but I will say it again. I'm willing to forgive and forget. You were a pawn in a twisted Game, without having any guilt, and even not knowing your own truth. As the mother of a son who has been through the same thing as you, I can't help but feel sympathy and affection for you. Give me a chance to be your family, nephew. Don't close in yourself. Forgive your mother, because you're hurting her. And wait for my husband to apologize, for he sure will do it when he cools down in the moment all the family is full anew. Ask him to spar or to talk about your uncle Arthur. He was Rhaegar's brother in all but blood. I'm sure you'll want to know about him. And so Rhaegar will ask for apologies. I'm sure he also has a bad aftertaste for the forms you two met again since you were but a babe."

"Thanks, I guess. You're very different from what I thought you were." after the which, Arthur sighed and shrugged. "The truth is that I don't quite know what to think about you. Everything I had heard about you from Connington made me think of one of the things you mentioned before..." her nephew said, looking askance towards Lya and towards the tips of his boots at the same time.

"Say it, a whore. The Dragon's whore who bewitched the silver prince. HA!" she bitterly laughed. "I've heard it all." She sniffed and trailed in what she was saying. "I knew of it since I've decided to marry him. What I didn't knew was that I would marry the man whom I met fighting against him."

"WHAT?!!" asked almost in a shriek her nephew, eyes as saucers.

"You didn't know?" she chuckled. "Of course you don't!! Connington didn't know and your mother could not say it. Damm oaths..." Lya shook her head and explained herself. "You know about the Knight of the laughing tree?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well, you're in front of him. Or her, to be precise. The oafs of Robert and Lonmouth made my mad father in law shot his paranoia towards the sky. He believed I was mocking him with my

shield and with what I had asked as prize from the fallen knights. In our meeting a week ago your mother mentioned it. Trumpeting about honor and values I thought she called it then."

"Ahh...Now that makes sense...I would have asked, but the situation was...Tense?"

"That's an understatement, nephew." Both chuckled at that. "Should we resume our walk?"

Lya nodded towards him while extended her right arm again. This time Arthur latched to her arm without doubts, and both of them resumed their walk towards the wash-house, around where Ghost and Summer were playing between each other.

"The thing is, as you know, Aerys sent Rhaegar in search of the mysterious knight. What hardly anyone knows, although more and more people are learning, is that what he found surprised him. After I jousted and said my piece, I headed towards the godswood of Harren's castle. I though there I could shed my armor and then I would come back as if nothing had happened. Oh boy how wrong I was!" she chuckled and trailed with her story. "Hot in my trail, in a powerful black destrier and in his black imposing armor, the crown prince was looking for me. I had two options; try to run in a tired mare, myself sore and numb from the jousts, or try to hold my own against one of the finest swords in the seven kingdoms. You can guess which one I chose. For, it wasn't the same you picked a week ago?" Lya ended in a quip.

They both laughed at that.

"I can guess that the prince trounced you with ease." said with some mirth and banter her nephew.

"Wait till you cousin Elaena is born and you'll see what I can do with a sword and my shield." she proudly challenged, for then in resigned tone say.

"But you're right...Rhaegar played with me, for then surrender. Or pretended to surrender. He dismounted, threw his sword and helmet and came towards me. I threatened him, but I could not harm a disarmed person. So he took advantage from my moment of doubt between fleeing or do any harm to him, dismounted me from my mare and put Visenya's dagger in my throat. When he stood up and let me up too, I took off my helmet. And I think at that moment he fell in love with me. Then with the passage of the days, we became friends and confidants, your uncle and mother being our chaperones. We shared our fears and hopes...and in the end Rhaegar won the dammed jousts to recognize me as the winner of the tournament. But only my brother Benjen, Rhaegar, Elia, your uncle Arthur and your mother knew about this. The rest of the people assumed what they've wanted to assume."

"I've never heard so much about Harrenhal's Tourney...It was as if the sole mention of it would brought some dreadful at the doorstep...Could you tell me something about...my fa-father?" her nephew almost mumbled under his breath.

"Sure. What want to know?"

"Well...I'm only have heard of him that he was a brash fool and that was the culprit who began everything."

"Aye...that sounds as my Bran. A man-child" she sighed sadly. "But that's not all of him. It's true that he had some wolf-blood that myself also have in less proportion. Also my niece Arya, and I believe that yourself have it. It's a certain rush to do things without thinking about them twice, or in the consequences."

Lya shook her head and looked askance towards her nephew.

"You have traits in common with Ser Arthur, that's true, but If you weren't blonde, you'll look almost the same as Brandon, but in pretty I must add." she let a small giggle and for then sadly said. "Your father, at least for me, was one of those persons that was larger than life. He always looked after the joyful things in the life. He was boisterous by nature. A caring, protective and sometimes overbearing older brother. He had charm and knew how to use it. He was the soul from every feast and gathering. With a couple of charming words and a disarming smile made fall in love half of the maidens from the realms. Your mother in a certain way, was a victim of this. Though she can't claim to be fully innocent in that. But I think that's an issue you should discuss with her, not with me."

She finished saying just when they arrived to the wash-house, so she cast a glance in the direction of her nephew's mother. Whom as Rhaella and Marië, were looking towards the front, given them the back.

In low tone, she added.

"Give her a chance. She suffered and lost a lot. And even if somewhat twisted, her intentions were good. Don't waste your chance, because trying times await us." Whereupon she unlaced arms with him and patted Arthur's left shoulder.

Some of the washer-women looking towards the entrance notice them, because soon the lasses and some maids were blushing at her nephew and others were bowing towards her.

"You sure have your father's and uncles charm with women." Lya quipped under her breath, something to which Arthur answered looking sheepishly towards his boots and blushing when noticing the stares he was reaping.

It was Syrio Forel whom announced her, causing her mother in law, the young lady in waiting and Ashara Dayne to turn on their heels.

"The princess Lyanna Targaryen, Lady of the Freehold of Valyria!" Heralded the water dancer.

Now with all attention garnered up to her, she raised her left hand. "As you were." after which some women left the wash-house, others continued washing the cloths and the young ones gravitated towards her escort, to whom looked with shine in their eyes.

"Dear, what a nice surprise having your here!" greeted Rhaella.

"My princess." politely greeted Ashara while smiling and bowing slightly.

"Your excellence." chirped Marië, who also was looking dreamily towards Arthur and blushing.

'It seems Bran has competence for Marië affections, for until today only had eyes for him.' she noticed, while looking askance to her nephew, whom without a doubt was a handsome lad. Not as her son or husband, but he wasn't hard to look either.

"I was done with the ledgers and thought I'd take a walk around. In my condition a little walking doesn't hurt. And I've been sitting so long this week my ass is going to go square." she snorted.

In response Rhaella slightly shook her head but had mirth in her gaze, her nephew looked at her amused, while Marië and Ashara giggled.

"When coming here I found this strapping young man and thought that maybe he could escort you." she paused, nudged Arthur's ribs with her right elbow and asked. "What do you say nephew? Would you join with her grace and her gracious and pretty young lady in waiting while your lady

mother and I take a walk along the river bank? I'm sure the furball will protect us meanwhile." She knew she was putting her nephew in a bind, but she wanted to talk alone with Ashara.

'Poor Marië! With my praise and Arthur in front of her she's blushing red almost like a tomato.' She though amused at the sight from the young valyrian.

It seemed as if her nephew knew about her intentions with his mother, because he gallantly said.

"Of course my princess! I would be delighted to be in such beautiful company."

After which he bowed deeply to Rhaella, took her right hand, and kissed softly. Then she repeated with Marië, whom almost fainted, and lastly was a more awkward kiss in the hand of his now jet black haired mother.

Despite the passing of the years, the sorrows and exile, Ashara Dayne continued to be a beauty. Especially now that she was back to her natural hair color in contrast to her pale skin and deep violet eyes.

Gone were the demure septa clothes in which she had been seen again a week ago. Some Rhaenys cloths and garments were re tailored and given to her. Wearing them with almost the same elegance and charm as Lya's step daughter.

"Oh!" said her mother in law while with the left hand half covered her mouth and stared intently towards her. "Would you not grace us with your presence for a little longer, dear?"

"I must decline for the good of the washed cloths and the work made here. It's probable I would do something wrong by accident. I've never been friend of the pile wash or the wash houses. In that regard, I'm always been more of a wildling than a noble lady. I only need a river and a bar of soap while I'm bathing in the river. In that regard, I'm one with my she-wolf."

Lya said for then laugh at her own silliness.

"Tsk!! See what I was telling you my star? My great daughters cut their hair in a manly fashion. My daughter in law washing her clothes while wearing it in a river. My great sons slept under a dragon's wing as if it were a tent. They're impossible!" said resigned but amused her mother in law.

"I see my queen. But for my part, I can hardly wait to bring this new courtly pomp's life to Westeros. I would pay a hundred dragons to see the proper prissy ladies from the Reach dealing with the royal family. There's going to be a lot of squirms, nervous chuckles and gossip's scandals." Ashara replied amused, while half covered her mouth with the right hand.

"Well, I think you could go with the princess," for then Rhaella stared at her. "Dear, have my son told you about something to happen in the dinner?"

"Aye. I've been making my own research on the issue and I think that my lord husband as well as yourself, your grace, are in the right. If the prince has not any qualms after he makes his own research, I vehemently approve of the choice."

As the chat between Rhaella and her took place, it seemed that only Ashara knew, or inferred, about what the two of them were talking. Marië was looking to and fro between Rhaella and Lya while scrunching her face and closing her gaze, as if in that way she could understand better what they were saying.

Her nephew for his part, was equally lost, gazing curiously with a raised eyebrow.

"So I take for grant that I'll see you at the dinner, dear? Or would you come a little before, so I could mend some cloths for you in our parting night in the city?"

"I will definitely come a little earlier. I think the occasion deserves more than just my plain garments."

"In that case, take care of yourselves." Rhaella nodded towards Lya and then glanced askance towards Ashara. "You too should come my Star. I have a dress and some jewels that will fit you like a glove. Here little Marië has already saw what she's going to wear. Tell them little one."

"Yes!" answered excited the girl. "The queen has gifted me a deep moss dress with two dragons intertwined trimmed in gold thread on the left chest and emeralds braided as clovers petals on the neck, a pair of emerald and sapphire rings and an emerald pendant."

"She's being modest. All the trimming, threading and tailoring was made by her. She thought it was a dress for the Queen, but it's my parting gift for her as my lady waiting."

"I hope you like swords, for that would be my gift once you part from my retinue." Lyanna said totally serious.

"Of course I would like to! And I hope you'll train me to be a mighty knight as you are. I want to beat prince Brandon some day." the little one said between hopefully and wistfully.

Ashara let out a little giggle, interrupting "Not even the death can change you, my princess!"

"Of course not!" Lya said as she crossed her arms in front of her big breast and pouted. "Before dead, than being a Lynesse Hightower of the life was your saying, wasn't it Ashara?"

"You got me on that, your excellence. But in my defense, she's a very, very unbearable person. If she would trip from her ego, she would fall to her death."

"It's not polite to criticize those not present." Rhaella chided them. "You two should go before the young man and the little one begin to think that every noble lady from Westeros is some kind of haughty dimwit."

The late-afternoon sun colored the sky orange, gold, and yellow, as it began to set in the west. The dew in the bushes and grass along the river bank glistening at the reflection. The temperature was beginning to give Lyanna a break, in turn lifting some of the prevailing humidity. She, like her companion, had the sandals in hand and was enjoying the feeling of the sandy riverbank. Ghost, a few meters ahead of them, played around chasing butterflies and other insects, occasionally rolling in the grass. The lullaby of the river passing by, a constant company in the background.

"Rhaella knows how to define the vast majority of the noblewomen of Westeros with two words." Lyanna broke the silence between the two women, letting out a giggle after that.

"Those are years of court, my princess. One learns to insult without doing it and without seeming so. Subtlety is still not your greatest strength, although from what I've seen, something is improving."

"Cut the princess crap and your excellence shit when it's just the two of us, Ashara. You were my first female friend who wasn't the daughter from a bannerman of my family or sworn to my house."

"You weren't a princess at the time." Ashara curtly replied.

"Don't you consider me your friend anymore? Is it because I'm a princess now? That's bullshit if that's the reason."

"No, it's not that. My appreciation for you hasn't diminished over time. On the contrary. But I'm still trying to adjust to seeing you...alive and the same as last time. Although looking healthier and livelier. Somewhat understandable taking into account the circumstances of the past compared to those of the present."

Ashara paused, took a deep breath, and stared at her.

"I don't know if you know, but now you exude a kind of aura that you didn't have before. A poise and a power seems to exude from you. I don't know. I've also noticed that you're more...lady-like? As if you've matured a lot more than what one sees in your body. Your gaze now is harsher and colder. You've lost some of the warm, naiveté and bliss you once had."

"And so you have, Ashara."

"It's different. I wasn't dead for five and ten years. I lived a harsh life in a even harsher environment and with schemes over schemes. But I lived. I've seen my son grow, albeit from afar. I chose what to do with what fate gave me and it brought me here. I finally could come clean with my son. At least I can be me again. What are you and Rhaegar?"

Lya left out a bitter laugh.

"You know? Just before the battle to take this city and end with the Blackfyre line for good, Rhaegar asked me that same question. Though he made the question in a more morbid way than yourself. Which being whom he is, is not a surprise, really."

Ashara chuckled and relaxed her body a little.

"My former sister in law said that we were aberrations and breathing sins coming from the seven hells." she said with contempt and then trailed in her answer. "My nephew Bran says we're a byproduct from the ritual." she sighed and finished. "I'm only know that even if I know I'm not myself anymore, I'm alive. I have a new life inside me. I've met my son and this one loves unconditionally me even if don't deserve his love. I'm what and who I am. I am the Knight of the Laughing tree. I am a lady from the North. I am a martyr for some, a whore to others and a naive maid in love for the rest. A sister and a wife. I am a princess without kingdoms and a Lady from an entity that ended four hundred years ago, but is anew reigning over these lands. I am a warg and a skinchanger. I am a warrior, but also a woman with some female interests. I am Lyanna Targaryen, the dragon reborn's mother and this is my second chance in life. I don't care what it will cost me, but I swear that I will grew old and will see my grandchildren. Not even death itself would stop me."

Ashara stared at her as silence fell between them facing each other. The Little Rhoyne at the fallen star's back reflected the last rays of sunlight that lit up above the treetops.

"See? This is what I say. You had steel, yes. But this? This resolve, coldness and this chilling sense of dread you impose..."

"Ashara, it's either this or break down again." she took a deep breath and sighed. "The first two moons after the ritual were not easy at all. I have been on the verge of returning to the abyss of melancholy, sorrow and guilt. The blood of thousands it's on me. You can't grasp what it is to be me. When you were telling your harrowing tale, I couldn't stop blaming myself for what you had to live through. Even now, there are times when I don't even know how I'll be able to look into your eyes. Your brother died because of me at the hands of my own brother!!" Lya sobbed.

"Oh no! Not that! Claim all the deaths and blood you want, except for the three who died defending you and your son. Blame your brother and blame them on themselves. From the moment those three took their oaths, the only way they would stop serving Rhaegar and his son would be after their last breath." exploded Ashara "You're not like this Lyanna. Rhaegar is the brooding one who blame himself for everything. You can't have this weight continuously on your soul. In the end it will end up eating you. You are quick to forgive everyone who has failed you in the past, including me, but you don't forgive yourself."

"How have you failed me? Without your visit to the Tower of Joy I don't know if I would have had the strength to continue."

"Don't you see that I was going to use you so as not to be disgraced before the whole kingdom and to provide a bastard son with a life worthy of princes?"

"You can't use someone who wants the same thing as you. You're my friend. You're Rhaegar's friend. The fact that you fucked my brother and got pregnant by him didn't hurt you in my eyes." she paused, gave a half smile and amused, she said. "Honestly, better that it was you who got knocked up than haughty bitter Barbrey Ryswell."

"That's high praise." bitterly replied the fallen star, for then said. "So, we are still friends?" "Of course we are."

"Well, maybe we aren't anymore once I tell you your brother's last days alive."

"And pry, tell me, why not?"

"Because I had the chance to free him, but I left him to rot in the Black Cells."

"WHAT?" Lya shrieked.

"The day after being apprehended by the Mad King, I bribed the jailer, Rugen, so I could go to saw him. I demanded Brandon to answer me about what he had done with everything he had promised me in Harrenhal's first night and I also told him the truth about my son and about you and Rhaegar. He replied that he didn't care, because he was sure that some other bastard of his would be running around the Seven Kingdoms and that he wasn't thinking of marrying me or the trout. In turn, he told me that from the beginning he knew that you wanted to be the Dragon's whore and that you gave him the perfect excuse to put on a little act through which he would fall out of favor with your father and the lordship would later be inherited by Ned. He told me that what he wanted was a life without ties or duties. Once he got that, he'd wonder if he wanted to be with me, but meanwhile he offered to beget me another bastard."

"Fucking fucktard." she muttered acidly. "But I don't understand, being Brandon and being in the situation he was in, it wouldn't have been unusual for him to promise anything in order to get out of the mess."

"I may have told him that the condition for his escape was that we must first be married by a septon and under a dowry and noble marriage contract." Ashara replied almost in a whisper with sorrow etched in her face.

"Still, had he not realized that he had committed treason or the alliances our father had formed?"

"Lyanna I loved your brother madly and at the time I was foolish enough to take his bait. But I can assure you that I have never met anyone as stubborn in his stupidity as he was. For starters, he was ignorant of the whole plot hatched by your father, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn. In fact he called it court's gossip ravings." Ashara sighed, crossed her arms and bitterly said. "When I told him that I knew about the plot through you, he replied that it was a tall tale that you had made up to justify your running away to slut yourself with Rhaegar."

"Charming." chimed Lya with resentment. "The whoremonguer calling me whore whom whored herself. Oozes of Brandon from everything you tell me. Did he ever said how he found out about my alleged kidnapping?"

"In the tavern of the Kneeling Man one of the wenches told him that she had seen the prince and two white cloaks take a woman who had the same eyes as Brandon's on the prince's black charger." said the Dornish woman resignedly, for then bitterly and with acrimony she cried.

"The worst thing is that he believed that the situation would be resolved without a hitch. I am the son of the lord paramount of the North. A Stark! He shouted proudly for his companions to hear him. I wish my father would let me be my own champion in the Trial by Combat and my opponent the son of the mad King. I will beat the silver prick without problems. In that way I can screw the old lunatic and my sister at the same time. If can't have my freedom and my cravings, she shan't either."

Ashara shook her head as she put her right hand over Lya's left shoulder in a tender caress.

"I tried Lyanna. I really did try. I tried to explain to him that Aerys' moniker was well earned. That Aerys' character was more unpredictable every day and that he had done something equally mad. I tried to convince his companions. But they accused me of being a liar and a dragon's bitch who wanted to scare them to admit their guilt when the justice was on their side, all of this while Brandon cheered them." sniffed Ashara as she shook her head.

Lya felt powerless, sad and angry at the same time. She wished she could revive her brother so she could kill him again. 'Or at least I'll beat him. Could he have been more stupid? More stubborn? More proud and blind of what was in front of him?'

She squeezed her eyes shut as she exhaled all the air she had in her lungs, trying to hold back tears. Tears of pain, tears of guilt, tears of shame and rage. Tears of disappointment for the brother who left early for being too unique and faithful to himself. For being too proud, too lazy, too hot- headed.

Ashara now squeezed her shoulder and in barely a breath, she concluded.

"I was there when he was brought up from the Black Cells. I was in the upper gallery. I could see in his eyes the moment of realization of what awaited him and his father. I saw his demeanor change and how he lost his pride to being scared shitless. And I saw how valiantly, helplessly and

stupidly tried in vain to save your father's life, murdering himself in the process."

"At least, you tried. I believe you and I owe you thanks for give this closure. I know my brother and know how he affected those whom followed him. I know whom he was and how he was. A true wild wolf he was, leading the pack to the abyss and despair."