[Dorne - Sunspear]

The Dornish sun blazed down upon the stones of the castle of Sunspear as Alysanne, her silver hair tied back in a tight braid, danced with the grace of a gazelle and the fierceness of a dragon among the Sand Snakes.

Each swing of her blade sent a flurry of sand into the air, a silent symphony of deadly intent that was music to the ears of her aunt's bastard daughters.

Obara, the eldest, with skin dark as the night sky and eyes like the gleaming edge of a sword, watched with a fierce pride as Alysanne's blade sang against hers.

Nymeria, the fiery middle child, her hair a wild mane of brown tresses, sparred with the agility of a whip, her eyes never leaving her sister's opponent.

Tyene, the youngest, with her serene beauty and poisons hidden beneath her gentle smile, offered quiet words of advice to each of her sisters as they took their turns facing Alysanne.

Their training was interrupted by the mournful toll of a distant bell, its echoes carrying on the warm Dornish breeze. Bells in Dorne were seldom rung, and when they did, it was for moments of great significance—either the birth of a new life or the departure of an old one.

Arianne, standing under the shade of a weirwood tree, her eyes shaded by a wisp of her dark brown hair, tilted her head at the sound. The expression on her face was a mix of curiosity and concern. She knew the traditions of her land well, and the solemn note of the bell sent a chill down her spine.

As the echoes of the bell faded, a servant, his chest heaving from a sprint, approached them, bearing grim news from the capital. He spoke in hushed tones, informing them of the death of Robert Baratheon—known as "The Usurper" to those who still held loyalty to House Targaryen.

The revelation cast a pall over their training session.

Alysanne's eyes narrowed, and she clenched her fists around the hilt of her sword. The man who had claimed the throne that was rightfully hers had finally met his end.

"The realm trembles," she murmured, more to herself than to the Sand Snakes surrounding her.

Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne, had always spoken of the injustice of Robert's rebellion, of the blood that had been spilled to put a usurper on the throne that belonged to her family.

Now, as the news of his death reached them, Alysanne felt a strange mix of emotions—relief that the man who had taken everything from her was no more, and a cold, burning anger that he had stolen so much from her family.

"And Lord Stark," the servant continued, his voice tight with tension, "has been arrested on charges of treason. He sought to deny the true heir, Prince Joffrey, his rightful place on the Iron Throne."

The Sand Snakes exchanged knowing glances. They had heard whispers of Eddard Stark's suspicions regarding the parentage of the Lannister children. Alysanne's thoughts raced. Could it be that he had discovered the truth about Joffrey, that the boy was not Robert's but a product of the twisted union between Cersei Lannister and her own brother?

The rumours of a romantic relationship between the Lannister twins was nothing new. For years, people have suspected their relationship was deeper than familial.

"The gods must be laughing," Alysanne said, her voice hard as the steel of her blade. "To think that a man as honourable as Lord Stark could be brought down by the very lies that have kept the Usurper's alleged children in line for the throne."

Arianne stepped closer, her own eyes flashing with a mix of anger and fear. "What do we do now?" she asked, her hand resting on the pommel of her own sword.

Alysanne took a deep breath, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily upon her. "We must prepare for what is to come," she replied firmly. "The realm is in chaos, and war is sure to follow."

The death of Robert Baratheon and the arrest of Lord Stark were just the beginning of the storm that would engulf the Seven Kingdoms.

The Usurper's death could be the key to setting her family's legacy right, but it also meant that the monstrous Joffrey now had a clear path to the Iron Throne.

The bell's toll had brought with it not just news of Robert's death, but the specter of the impending war for the very soul of Westeros.

"Joffrey will not be a gentle ruler," Alysanne said, her gaze sweeping over the Sand Snakes. "His cruelty is already the stuff of legends, and with Cersei whispering in his ear, the realm will know no peace."

They had all heard the whispers of Joffrey's tyrannical nature, and the thought of him wielding the power of the Iron Throne was a nightmare come to life.

Alysanne knew that if her suspicions were true, as she suspected, if Lord Stark had indeed discovered the incestuous secret of Cersei and Jaime Lannister, then his arrest was a precursor to a bloody struggle for power.

If the truth were to come to light, it would not only threaten Joffrey's claim to the throne but also the fragile peace that had held the realm together for the past seventeen years.

The implications of Lord Stark's arrest were not lost on Alysanne. If he had indeed found out the truth about Joffrey's parentage, then his actions were not those of a traitor, but of a man trying to prevent a false king from ruling.

The whispers of Joffrey's cruel nature had reached even the far corners of Dorne, and Alysanne felt a shiver of dread at the thought of the boy-king's potential reign. The stories spoke of his penchant for torture and his lack of mercy, traits that had only been exacerbated by his mother's influence. It was widely feared that his ascent would plunge the Seven Kingdoms into a war more brutal than any seen before.

Her thoughts turned to the dragon eggs, the last hope for House Targaryen's restoration. They were hidden in the depths of Dorne, a secret known only to a trusted few. Their vibrant colors—obsidian, pearl white, and deep purple—were a stark contrast to the bleak future that loomed ahead.

Of course, she now knew her aunt Daenerys, who lived in exile across the Narrow Sea, also has three unhatched dragon eggs.

But Alysanne's destiny was not in the East; it was here, in Westeros, where the blood of the dragon still flowed strong in her veins.

With the Usurper dead and the realm on the brink of chaos, the time had come for the dragons to rise again.

Alysanne looked to the horizon, her thoughts racing with the possibilities that lay before her. Her heart ached for the innocents who would suffer in the coming conflict, for the families torn apart by the lust for power that had ravaged the lands since her family's death.

The mention of Renly Baratheon brought a frown to her lips. Renly, the charming, dashing brother of the late king, had fled the capital after his brother's death, hastily marrying Margaery Tyrell. Alysanne had always felt weary of the Tyrells and their ever-growing influence.

Olenna Tyrell, the Queen of Thorns, had offered a marriage pact, proposing that Alysanne marry one of her grandchildren to unite their houses and bolster her own claim.

But Alysanne had not forgotten the treachery of the Reach during her grandfather's reign.

During the rebellion, House Tyrell initially supported House Targaryen, but they switched sides to support Robert Baratheon after he won the Battle of the Trident, where Rhaegar Targaryen, Alysanne's father, was killed by Robert.

Their change of allegiance had secured their wealth and power, but it was a betrayal that still stung. Now, with Renly's hasty marriage to Margaery, it seemed that Lady Olenna was orchestrating another ploy to ensure her family's dominance over the Iron Throne.

Alysanne's eyes narrowed as she considered the implications of this new alliance. Renly's claim to the throne was already dubious, as he was the younger brother of the alleged "rightful heir", Stannis Baratheon. Yet, with the power of Highgarden behind him, he could amass a formidable army and challenge the Lannisters for the throne.

The thought of her bloodline being used as a pawn in the Tyrells' political games was repugnant to Alysanne. She had seen the chaos and destruction that such alliances had wrought in the past, and she was determined not to let the same fate befall her.

Olenna Tyrell had always been a formidable player in the game of thrones, and her granddaughter Margaery was a rose of even greater thorns. Renly's marriage to Margaery was a strategic move that had the potential to shift the balance of power significantly.

Alysanne had to admit, the alliance between Highgarden and House Baratheon was a powerful one. The Tyrells had the resources and the men to bolster Renly's claim, and with the beauty and cunning of Margaery at his side, the realm might rally to his banner.

But as she watched the sun dip lower in the sky, painting the dunes of Dorne in a fiery tapestry, Alysanne felt a cold knot form in her stomach. If Renly was willing to overlook the claim of his own brother for the sake of power, what would he do if he discovered her location? Would he, too, seek to eliminate her to clear the path to the Iron Throne?

Her mind raced with the implications of his marriage to Margaery. If he managed to take the throne, the alliance of Highgarden and House Baratheon would be virtually unstoppable. But she knew that alliances in Westeros were as fleeting as the shadows on the sands of Dorne. Betrayal and treachery were the currency of the realm, and she could not afford to trust anyone fully.

Despite Olenna Tyrell's earlier proposal to unite their houses, Alysanne had remained silent, weary of the serpents that lurked in the gardens of Highgarden.

Now, with Renly fleeing the capital and securing a powerful alliance, it was clear that the Queen of Thorns had set another plan into motion.

In the absence of Alysanne's agreement, she had turned her sights to placing her own granddaughter on the throne, bypassing the rightful claim of Stannis Baratheon.

The mere thought of the Tyrells wielding such power was enough to make Alysanne's blood boil.

They had always been opportunists, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And now, with Robert dead, the realm in disarray, and the Iron Throne up for grabs, it seemed they had found their opportunity.

Alysanne knew she could not stand idly by while the fate of her family's legacy was decided by others.

Her mind turned to the dragon eggs, hidden away in her chambers, waiting for the dragons to return and bring fire and blood to those who would dare challenge their reign.

The future of the Seven Kingdoms was a tangled web of alliances and betrayals, but Alysanne was not one to be bound by the strings of fate.

Her mother's Dornish blood ran thick in her veins, and she knew that the only way to survive in this game was to become the player that could not be predicted.

With the news of Robert's death and Lord Stark's arrest, the political landscape of Westeros had shifted dramatically.

Alysanne knew that she could not remain hidden in Dorne for much longer. The time had come for her to claim her birthright and set the realm to rights.

But, she is not the only one seeking to claim the Iron Throne.

Currently there were three "Kings"; Joffrey, Stannis and Renly.

Joffrey was a monster, Stannis was a hard man who had been corrupted by his own sense of duty and Renly was a charming peacock.

All of them had no right to the throne.

The true heir was right here, her lineage a fiery secret whispered in the shadows of Dorne.

A secret that was growing as common knowledge.

The Sand Snakes, who had been sparring with Alysanne, had gone quiet. They knew the gravity of the situation as well as she did.

Obara, the eldest and unofficial leader of the trio, spoke first. "The realm will be torn apart by these pretenders," she said, her eyes flashing. "We must choose our battles wisely."

Alysanne nodded, her gaze never leaving the horizon. "We will," she said firmly. "But first, we must ensure Dorne's survival. We cannot allow ourselves to be drawn into a war that does not serve our interests."

The Sand Snakes exchanged looks, understanding the gravity of her words. The realm was a storm of ambition, and Dorne had always been an island of stability in the chaos.

But Alysanne knew that they could not remain neutral forever. The dragons had to fly again, and she would be the one to lead them.

The decision to claim her birthright was not one she made lightly. It was fraught with danger and the potential to unleash a maelstrom of war across the land. Yet, as the daughter of the last dragon, she felt the weight of her family's legacy upon her shoulders.

Her heart swelled with a fierce determination to restore House Targaryen to its rightful place. But she was not naive to the consequences. The Lannisters would not yield the throne without a fight, and the North would likely rally behind the Starks in defense of their own honour.

Alysanne knew she had to be careful, to plan her every move with the precision of a venomous snake.

Her allies, Houses Velaryon and Celtigar, had sworn fealty to House Baratheon after her father's death, but their hearts still beat with the blood of the dragon.

The Velaryons, with their silver hair and proud mariners' heritage, had once been as powerful as the Targaryens themselves.

The Celtigars, wealthy from the bountiful harvests of their lands, had the resources to stand against any foe.

But the Velaryons, with their ancient ties to House Targaryen, were the ones who could truly tip the scales in her favour.

House Velaryon, with their storied navy, had been a bastion of Valyrian power since the Doom. Their allegiance to House Targaryen had never truly wavered, not even during the tumult of Robert's Rebellion.

Their silver hair, a trait shared with the Targaryens, was a silent testament to their lineage and loyalty.

Alysanne knew she could count on House Velaryon. Their ancestral ties to the Targaryens were as strong as the steel of their swords. The Celtigars, though less openly connected to the blood of the dragon, had a wealth and power that could sway the balance of the war.

But she had to tread carefully. To declare herself openly would be to invite the wrath of House Lannister and the new boy-king, Joffrey, upon Dorne. Her uncle Doran had taught her the value of patience and cunning, and she knew that revealing her hand too soon would be folly.

Alysanne knew that she could not reveal her true intentions to the world just yet. House Velaryon and Celtigar had to bide their time, hidden beneath the guise of fealty to the Baratheons.

The Velaryons, with their ships that ruled the seas, could cut off supplies to the Lannisters and blockade their forces, while the Celtigars could flood the rebellion with food and gold to sustain the fight.

Their combined might could be the difference between victory and defeat.

But Alysanne knew that her allies alone would not be enough to conquer the Iron Throne. The Tyrells had chosen their side, and their wealth and military might would bolster Renly's cause significantly.

The Reach was the breadbasket of Westeros, and with the allegiance of Highgarden, Renly's forces would be fed and equipped beyond measure.

Alysanne knew that she needed to act swiftly if she were to counterbalance the power of the Tyrells. Her thoughts turned to the other Great Houses, specifically to the Starks of Winterfell.

Their liege lord had been arrested by the Lannisters; an act that would not go unanswered.

Lord Stark's daughters had journeyed to the capital with him, his eldest engaged to Joffrey.

Though, they were more than likely now hostages.

Alysanne knew that the key to victory lay in forging new alliances and securing the loyalty of those who had once been her family's bannermen.

The Velaryons and Celtigars were a solid foundation, but she needed more.

Alysanne knew that she could not rely solely on her Dornish kin and the two remaining Valyrian houses.

The North, with its vast lands and fiercely loyal bannermen, was a prize worth fighting for. If she could convince the Starks to cast aside their pride and see the bigger picture, she would gain an unstoppable force to stand against the Lannisters (and Baratheons and Tyrells).

The bond between House Targaryen and House Stark had been strong once, back when her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had unified the Seven Kingdoms. The Starks had bent the knee to Aegon and had been rewarded with the North.

It was a bond that had endured through generations, through the battles that had shaped the realm.

But the bitterness of Robert's Rebellion had driven a wedge between them, a wedge that had only grown deeper with time.

The Starks had chosen the Baratheons over the Targaryens, a choice that had led to the devastation of her family.

Yet, Alysanne could not fully blame them for their decision. Her grandfather, the Mad King, had committed unspeakable atrocities, including the execution of Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark. Their deaths had been a spark in the tinderbox of rebellion, a brutal act that had sent shockwaves through the realm.

The Mad King had demanded the heads of Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, the two men who had rebelled against him. When Brandon Stark had come to King's Landing to demand the return of his sister, Lyanna, who was believed to have been abducted by Alysanne's father, Rhaegar, the king had taken it as an opportunity to display his power.

The screams of the two Starks as they burned alive in the throne room had echoed through the halls of the Red Keep, and their deaths had set in motion a series of events that would lead to the downfall of House Targaryen.

The memory of their fiery ends was a stark reminder of the brutal legacy that Alysanne now carried. Her grandfather's madness had torn the realm apart, leaving a trail of pain and suffering in its wake.

The Starks had lost their lord and heir, and their house had been forever changed by the events of the rebellion.

Yet, House Targaryen had also suffered greatly.

Now, only she and her aunt Daenerys, who lived across the Narrow Sea, remained.

The death of her grandfather and the subsequent Sack of King's Landing had left her family in ruins. Her mother, the beautiful and fierce Elia, had been brutally defiled and murdered by The Mountain, and her two siblings, Rhaenys and Aegon, had also met their end at the hand of The Mountain, and Amory Lorch. Rhaenys had been stabbed at least fifty times. Aegon, whom had recently celebrated his second nameday, had his head smashed against the wall.

The memories of that horror filled Alysanne with a rage so potent it was akin to the fire of her ancestors' dragons.

Her grandfather's madness (and father's impulsivity), had brought about a war that had stolen her childhood, her home, and her family.

Alysanne knew that she could not change the past, but she could shape the future.

The Mad King's sins had cast a long shadow over her family, and the Starks had every right to despise the Targaryens for the pain they had endured.

But Alysanne was not her grandfather. She did not wish to be a tyrant, nor did she wish to continue the cycle of bloodshed that had plagued Westeros for so long.

Her siblings' deaths were a constant reminder of the price paid for power, a price she was determined not to exact from others.

Her siblings had been innocents, slaughtered in a power struggle not of their making.

Their deaths had been a gruesome punishment for their father's perceived crimes, a macabre spectacle that had stained the very fabric of the realm.

She had heard how they had been wrapped in Lannister cloaks and paraded in front of the new "King", who laughed and called them "dragonspawn".

It was a cruel irony that she, who had never asked for the throne, bore the weight of her family's legacy, while her siblings had suffered the ultimate price for their father's ambition.

Their deaths had been a chilling message to the realm—that no one, not even innocents, would be spared in the pursuit of power.

Their blood had stained the very stones of the Red Keep, a grim reminder of the cost of rebellion.

Alysanne knew that the path to the Iron Throne would not be easy. The sins of her father and grandfather had left a deep wound in the hearts of the people, and she could not simply demand their loyalty without addressing the atrocities that had been committed in her family's name.

Rhaenys and Aegon had been pawns in a game of thrones, their lives snuffed out to clear the way for the Usurper's reign. The pain of their loss was a constant reminder that she could not simply ignore the past.

Alysanne knew that to win the hearts of the people, she had to be different from her predecessors. She had to show that she was not the monster that Robert's Rebellion had painted her family to be.

She also knew that if she could somehow bridge the gap between her house and the Starks, she would gain not just an ally, but the largest kingdom in Westeros.

The North was a land of harsh winters and stoic men and women who do not take kindly to outsiders, but it was also a place of fierce loyalty and honour.

If she could convince the Starks to cast aside their bitterness and anger at her family's past, and ally with her cause, she would not only have gained the largest kingdom in Westeros but also an unbreakable bond forged in the fires of shared hatred for the Lannisters.

The North had suffered greatly under the reign of the Mad King, and their resentment for House Targaryen was as cold and sharp as the winds that swept across the Wall. But Alysanne knew that the true enemy was not the memory of a madman, but the Lannisters who had usurped the throne.

The Lannisters had betrayed her family, slaughtered her kin, and now sought to keep her from her birthright. Yet, she understood that the path to redemption was not paved with vengeance alone. If she could convince the Starks that their true enemy was not the daughter of the last dragon, but the lions that now ruled the realm, she might stand a chance.

The Starks had been loyal to her family once, and she knew that beneath the frosty exterior of the North lay a deep well of grief and anger at the Lannisters' treachery. If she could tap into that, perhaps she could forge an alliance that would shake the very foundations of the Iron Throne.

Alysanne knew that the key to the North's loyalty was in the heart of the Starks—specifically, the fiercely protective and honourable Lady Catelyn Stark. If she could appeal to Catelyn's sense of duty and justice, perhaps she could convince her that the true enemy was not a long-defeated House Targaryen, but the Lannisters who had stolen the throne from its rightful heirs.

The Starks had suffered their own loss in the rebellion, their beloved Rickard, Brandon and Lyanna, and it was this shared grief that Alysanne hoped to leverage. If she could show that her own suffering was genuine, that she bore no malice towards the Starks for their part in her family's downfall, then maybe, just maybe, they could find common ground in their mutual loathing for the Lannisters.

Alysanne knew that to win Lady Catelyn's trust, she would have to be honest about her intentions and her desire to set the realm to rights. She would have to convince her that the throne was not something she lusted after for personal gain, but rather a responsibility she bore for the sake of the people.

The Starks were a proud and honourable house, and their loyalty was not easily bought or swayed. Yet, Alysanne was not without her own allure. Her silver hair and purple eyes marked her as a true Targaryen, a descendant of the ancient bloodline that had once unified the Seven Kingdoms.

If she could cast aside the bitterness that had grown from the ashes of her family's destruction, and extend an olive branch to the Starks, she might find an unexpected ally in the frozen lands of the North.

The prophecy of the Song of Ice and Fire foretold the rise of the dragons, a union of fire and ice that would bring balance to the realm.

Perhaps this was the moment. With the Usurper dead and the Iron Throne contested, that the prophecy would begin to unfold.

Alysanne had heard the whispers of the Prince That Was Promised, the hero foretold in the ancient text of Aegon's dream. It spoke of a child born from the union of ice and fire, one who would have the power to save the realm from the great evil that would descend upon it.

As the daughter of Rhaegar Targaryen, the last dragon, and Elia Martell, whose blood was as fiery as the sands of Dorne, Alysanne knew that she carried the fire within her.

Yet, the prophecy of the Prince That Was Promised spoke of a union between ice and fire. Her mother's lineage was as much a part of her as her father's, but it was the Starks, the lords of Winterfell, who were the embodiment of ice in the songs of the Seven Kingdoms.

The more Alysanne pondered the ancient words, the more she realized that she might not be the one destined to fulfill the prophecy. She had been born and raised in the fiery south, her skin kissed by the sun, not the icy winds of the north.

Yet the dream of Aegon, passed down from ruler to heir, had always whispered of the union between ice and fire. The very essence of the prophecy suggested a bond between the two great houses that had never been forged— Stark and Targaryen.

Alysanne, with her fiery spirit and Dornish heritage, knew she was not the ice the prophecy spoke of. The union of her mother's fierce Martell blood and her father's fiery Targaryen lineage had produced a daughter more akin to the blazing sands of Dorne than the frozen lands of the North.

Yet, the whispers of the Prince That Was Promised grew louder in her mind. If she was not the one foretold to wield the power of the dragons, then who was?

Alysanne knew the prophecy was vague, leaving much to interpretation, but the idea of a Stark-Targaryen union was as tantalizing as it was elusive.

In the many years both Houses have resided in Westeros, there was no mention of a Stark-Targaryen marriage.

They closest they have ever gotten was when her father ran away with Lyanna Stark, who had perished in the Tower of Joy in Dorne, under mysterious circumstances.

She needed to speak with her uncle Doran... Immediately.