[Dragonstone]

"Lady, a raven has arrived," announced the young page, his voice echoing in the vast chamber.

Alysanne looked up from the scrolls she had been studying, her eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "What do they bring?"

"Words from the Riverlands, my lady," the page replied, handing her the rolled parchment with trembling hands.

Her heart quickened as she broke the seal, the crimson wax bearing the mark of a trout—a symbol of House Tully. The message within spoke of treachery and siege. The Freys, those turncloaks who had feasted on the blood of their kin at the Red Wedding, now laid claim to Riverrun, holding Edmure captive and plotting to wrest the fortress from the steadfast grip of the Blackfish, Brynden Tully. The Lannisters, those lions of Casterly Rock whose pride had brought them to the brink of ruin, had the audacity to ally with them.

Alysanne knew she could not let this stand. She had sworn to avenge the Starks and protect the realm from the tyranny. Gently, she set aside the parchment and rose from her seat, her silver hair cascading down her back. She called for her trusted advisors, Lady Elinda Massey and Lady Gwyneth Yronwood, who hastened to her side. In hushed tones, she relayed the dire news.

The two women exchanged solemn glances. "We must act swiftly, my queen," Elinda urged, her eyes filled with determination. "The Freys are serpents, and the Lannisters are their fangs. We must cut them down before they grow too strong."

Alysanne nodded, her gaze drifting to the open-roofed dome where the dragons slept. "Prepare my armor," she ordered, "and alert the dragonkeepers. We fly to Riverrun at first light."

The night was a restless blur as the castle bustled with preparations. The dragons stirred, sensing their queen's urgency.

As dawn broke, Alysanne, clad in armour, approached Elaenys, stroking the pearl-white dragon's snout. "We go to war," she murmured, and the dragon's purple eyes searched hers, understanding in their depths.

[Riverrun]

The two took to the skies, the chilly air whipping Alysanne's hair into a silver storm as they flew northward. The dragon's mighty wings cut through the morning mist, carrying them swiftly to the banks of the Trident. Below them, the vast meadow spread out like a quilt of greens and yellows, soon to be marred by the crimson stains of battle.

They descended silently, landing in the concealment of the trees surrounding the meadow. The castle of Riverrun loomed in the distance, its towers stark against the rising sun. The Frey and Lannister banners fluttered in the breeze, their colors stark reminders of the treachery that had claimed so many innocent lives.

Alysanne dismounted, her hand on Elaenys' neck, feeling the dragon's warmth and the tension in her muscles. The dragon knew the gravity of the situation as well as she did. The air was thick with anticipation, the only sound the distant murmur of the Trident's flow.

The Trident where her father had lost his life.

Alysanne had never thought she would find herself anywhere in the vicinity of where her father was killed.

Yet, here she was.

Her mission was clear: save Edmure, break the siege of Riverrun, and deliver a message that would echo through the annals of Westeros.

The Freys had made a grave mistake, believing that the might of the Lannisters could shield them from the wrath of the Targaryens. They were about to learn that no force on earth could stand against the fiery breath of a dragon.

The meadow grew tense with anticipation, the dew-kissed blades of grass bowing slightly to the dragon's heat. Alysanne's eyes never left the castle, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and valor. Then, the signal came: a solitary flaming arrow arced through the sky, a beacon of hope against the stark morning blue.

Her heart pounding in her chest, she leapt onto Elaenys' back, the dragon's scales warm and familiar beneath her. "Rise," she whispered into the dragon's ear, and with a powerful lurch, they ascended, the sun's early light glinting off their silver-white forms. The Frey and Lannister soldiers, caught unawares, scurried about like ants before an impending storm.

The flaming arrow streaked across the sky, and Alysanne's eyes narrowed. The signal had been given; Edmure was safe within Riverrun's embrace. The dragon's eyes flickered with excitement, matching the fiery emblem that marked the end of the Blackfish's peril.

With a deafening roar, Elaenys took to the skies, her wings unfurling like a silver phoenix born anew. The dragon's fiery breath washed over the meadow, setting the grass ablaze. The Frey and Lannister soldiers looked up in horror, their eyes widening at the sight of the Targaryen queen astride the pearl white beast.

"Dracarys!"

The word left Alysanne's lips as a whisper, a command that resonated through the meadow and in the heart of the dragon beneath her. With a fiery exhale, Elaenys sent a plume of scorching flame towards the advancing Frey and Lannister lines. The soldiers' screams of terror melded with the crackle of burning wood and armor as the dragon's fiery breath consumed all in its path. The smell of scorched flesh filled the air, a grim testament to the power that was now aligned against them.

A volley of arrows shot upwards, aiming for the dragon and her rider, but Alysanne had anticipated this. With a deft movement of the reins, Elaenys weaved and dove, her agility making a mockery of the clumsy projectiles. A few arrows found their marks, but the dragon's scales, forged from the fires of Old Valyria, proved impervious to the crude weapons of men. The archers, their faces contorted in desperation, realized the futility of their actions too late.

The dragon's breath swept across the meadow, leaving a charred landscape in its wake. The Frey and Lannister banners were no more than smoldering rags, their once-proud colors reduced to ash. The surviving soldiers fled in terror, their cries of despair echoing through the countryside. But Alysanne had not come merely to lay waste to her enemies; she had a message to deliver, a promise to fulfill.

Guiding Elaenys with a gentle touch, she directed the dragon to hover above the fleeing men. The silver-haired queen watched with steely resolve as they scurried like prey before a predator. "Dracarys," she murmured once more, and a second column of flame erupted, cutting off their escape. The dragonfire painted the morning air with an orange and gold brilliance, the heat almost palpable from where she sat.

The surviving Frey archers, driven by fear and desperation, loosed another volley of arrows. Yet, their shafts of death found only emptiness, as Elaenys danced through the sky with the grace of a swan. The bolts of dragonfire continued to rain down upon the soldiers, each one a fiery punctuation to the end of their treachery.

As the last of the Frey bannermen fell, their screams fading into the distance, Alysanne surveyed the smoldering battlefield. The stench of burned flesh and melted steel hung heavy in the air, a testament to the power she now wielded. With a heavy heart, she knew that vengeance had been served, but the true battle was only beginning.

With a gentle command, Alysanne coaxed her dragon to fold her wings and land gracefully on the river bank, the displaced water sending a gentle spray over the waiting men. The dragon's talons sank into the earth with a soft thud, and the ground trembled slightly beneath the weight of her majesty. The guards at the gates of Riverrun watched in awe as the silver-haired queen dismounted, her eyes never leaving the castle's entrance.

The dragon's eyes remained alert, watching over her queen as she stood in front of the castle, not yet sure if she would be viewed as friend or foe.

Her men, clad in the colors of House Targaryen, fanned out around her, their swords drawn but held low in a sign of peace.

"I am Alysanne Targaryen," she shouted. "Daughter of Princess Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."

Her voice carried over the smoldering meadow, resonating off the stones of Riverrun's battlements. The castle's gates remained closed, but she knew they were watching.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she awaited their response. The dragon at her side was both a symbol of terror and a beacon of hope, a living embodiment of the power she offered and the protection she vowed to provide.

Alysanne's men remained steadfast, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of threat. The air grew still, the only sound the distant rush of the Trident's waters, as the castle's gates slowly began to creak open. From within emerged a group of armed men, their faces a mix of awe and wariness. Among them, the banners of House Tully fluttered proudly.

"Lower your weapons," Alysanne called out, her voice clear and commanding despite the tremor of excitement. "I come in peace to speak with the surviving Tullys."

Her men, recognizing the gravity of the moment, did as she bade, the clatter of their steel echoing through the desolate meadow. The Tully guard, however, remained wary, their eyes never leaving the dragon.

"We come with no malice," Alysanne assured them, her voice carrying the authority of a Targaryen and the warmth of a potential ally. "My dragon shall not harm you, unless you wish harm to me."

The Tully guards exchanged glances, their fear of the creature momentarily overridden by curiosity. Slowly, they lowered their weapons, allowing Alysanne and her men to approach.

The castle's gates stood open, a silent invitation to parlay.

"Elaenys, sōvēs."

The she-dragon listened instantly, taking to the skies.

With a grace that seemed almost impossible for a creature so massive, Elaenys alighted on the banks of the Trident. Her scales shimmered in the early morning light, casting a silver glow across the water. The men at Riverrun's gates watched, frozen in place.

"I wish to broker an alliance. Ending the siege was my sign of good faith."

Alysanne's words were met with skepticism and a hint of hope. The Tully guards nodded to their captain, who stepped forward. His eyes were hard, but there was a flicker of something else—respect, perhaps.

"You may enter, Queen Alysanne," he called out. "But beware, the Blackfish does not suffer fools."

Her heart swelled with pride as she stepped through the gates of Riverrun, surrounded by the men of House Tully. The castle had seen better days, its stones scarred, but the pride of the house remained unshaken.

The captain of the guard led Alysanne and her small entourage to the Great Hall, where the Tullys had gathered. The room was vast, with high arched windows that allowed the light to stream in and cast an eerie glow over the battle-worn faces.

Lord Edmure sat at the head of the table, his countenance a mix of relief and suspicion. The Blackfish, his uncle, stood at his side, his arms crossed and his gaze sharp. The sight of the dragon outside had surely unnerved them, but the absence of the Frey bannermen spoke louder than any words could.

"Welcome to Riverrun, Lady Alysanne," Edmure said, his voice strained. "What brings you here?"

"The same cause that has united our houses before," she replied, her eyes sweeping over the weary faces of the Tullys. "The restoration of justice to the Seven Kingdoms."

The Blackfish's gaze was piercing. "And what makes you believe we would align with a Targaryen?" he asked, his voice as unyielding as the stones that surrounded them.

"I am not my grandfather, or my father," she told them. "I don't seek to conquer."

The Blackfish's gaze remained unyielding, his jaw clenched as he studied her. "Your words are sweet, but your kind has a sour history with ours."

"You judge me for my family's sins. Despite the fact that I burned your enemies, preventing you from either wasting away inside your castle, or being forced to yield it."

Her voice was firm, unwavering. The Tullys looked at her, their expressions unreadable.

"If I thought the same way you did, I wouldn't have stopped with the Freys and the Lannisters. I would have turned Riverrun into another Harrenhal... But, I didn't. I didn't, because we have more in common than you realize."

"And what is that?"

"A common enemy."

The Blackfish raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking to the dragon outside. "And what enemy is that?"

Alysanne stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. "The usurpers who sit upon the Iron Throne. Those who spilled the blood of the innocent and tore apart our families."

"You speak of House Lannister."

Alysanne nodded gravely. "And all who stand with them. The Iron Throne is not where it rightfully belongs, and I aim to change that."

The room was silent, the echo of her words bouncing off the stone walls. The Tullys exchanged glances, their expressions a tapestry of doubt and curiosity.

"You seek the Iron Throne?" Lord Edmure asked.

Alysanne nodded. "But not to rule as a tyrant. To restore peace and order to the realm. House Lannister has bled the Seven Kingdoms for too long. Their reign must end."

The Blackfish's eyes narrowed, his gaze traveling from Alysanne to the dragon outside the windows. "And what do you offer in exchange for our allegiance?"

"I know where your niece's daughters and sons are."

"Her sons are dead."

Alysanne shook her head. "They are not."

"And how are we supposed to believe you?"

"Daenys the Dreamer had a prophetic vision of the fall of Valyria. She is the reason House Targaryen is still in existence."

"Let me guess... you had a 'vision'."

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"Yet you did not warn anyone."

"That is the curse of dragon dreams. They are not always clear. Besides, what if I had sent a letter. What if one of the Boltons or Freys read it first? I would lose the advantage. I would have revealed my intentions to the Lannisters. They have already tried to kill me, as they did my mother, brother and sister. They sent an assassin to murder me in my bed."

"And what happened to this assassin?" Edmure asked.

"I killed him."

To her surprise, the Blackfish let out a hearty chuckle.

"You're a cunning one," he said, stroking his beard. "But if your intentions are true, I would hear them."

Alysanne nodded, and as she began to speak, her words were measured and sincere. "I seek not to replace one tyrant with another, but to unite the realm under a just rule. To bring peace and prosperity to the people who have suffered so much under the Lannister's yolk. To honor the memory of the Starks, and to ensure that no child ever again faces the horrors that they have."

The Blackfish studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "What makes you think you can succeed where others have failed?"

Alysanne stepped closer to him, her voice filled with determination. "Because I have what others lacked. I have dragons," she said, her eyes gleaming. "The true power of old Valyria, the might that has not been seen in centuries. With them, I can enforce peace, protect the realm, and ensure that justice is served."

"I thought you said you do not wish to be a conqueror... or a tyrant."

"I don't," Alysanne said firmly. "But I will do what is necessary to protect my people and the realm."

The Blackfish's gaze softened slightly, and he gestured for her to take a seat. The Tullys exchanged looks before following suit, the tension in the room palpable.

"Tell us of your vision, Lady Alysanne," Edmure said, his curiosity piqued despite his caution.

Alysanne took a deep breath, her silver hair framing her face like a halo in the soft light. "I dreamt of a time when dragons roamed the skies again, freeing the realm from the tyranny that has plagued it for so long. When the Iron Throne was not a symbol of fear, but of protection and unity."

The Tullys listened intently, the gravity of her words sinking in. The Blackfish leaned forward, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deceit. "And what role do you intend for us in this vision?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

Alysanne met his gaze without flinching. "As allies and equals. House Tully has always been known for its honor and valor. Your strength and strategic prowess are assets that would be invaluable to our cause."

The room remained silent, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air. The Tullys exchanged glances, their expressions a blend of hope and skepticism. Finally, Edmure spoke up. "Our loyalty to House Stark is unwavering. What of them?"

"Your loyalty is admirable," Alysanne said. "And I assure you, I come as a friend to the Starks as well. They have suffered much at the hands of the Lannisters, and it is my wish to see them restored to their rightful place in the North."

"The only Stark left alive is Lady Sansa, and no one knows where she is. Except for that woman and squire I sent away."

"I do."

"Well... where are they?"

"You must be wondering who those men and women who infiltrated the twins were."

"I'm sorry," Edmure started. "What does this have to do with my nieces?"

"I'm getting there. Because of my dream, I sent men and women loyal to me to trail the Stark forces. Their objective was simple: save the king, and as many others as they could."

"They didn't save my niece."

"And they are truly sorry for it. The king and your niece were top priority to them, but, it would seem, in the chaos, they were unable to find Lady Catelyn."

Edmure's eyes searched hers for truth. "What do you propose, Lady Alysanne?"

Alysanne paused, her eyes, searching the men around the room . "Do you trust these men?"

"I do," Edmure replied.

Alysanne took a deep breath before continuing. "I know where at least half of your nieces and nephews are."

"Robb is dead, so are his brothers."

Alysanne shook her head. "Robb is alive. It was my spies who crashed the Red Wedding. They saved him and took him somewhere safe."

"Where?"

"Greywater Watch." She replied. "I have Arya. She showed up at the Twins and I have been teaching her as my ward since."

The room erupted in shock and disbelief at Alysanne's revelation. Edmure's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with hope and disbelief. "Robb lives?" he whispered, his hand trembling as it gripped the arm of his chair.

Alysanne nodded solemnly. "He does, and he is safe."

"And what of Sansa?"

"In the Vale, with Littlefinger, posing as his bastard daughter."

The revelation hit the room like a storm, leaving the Tullys speechless. The Blackfish leaned back, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "So, the rumors of Lady Sansa's survival hold true," he murmured.

"Yes," Alysanne said, her voice firm. "And with your help, we can bring her home, and restore the Starks to their rightful place in the North." She paused. "It might also interest you to know that Bran and Rickon might still be alive. According to my spies, the boys Theon burned were farmer's boys. Bran and Rickon escaped with a wildling woman and a castle worker who had been looking after them."

The Blackfish's gaze grew intense, his expression unreadable. "If what you say is true..." he began, his voice trailing off.

"It is," Alysanne said firmly, her own eyes unyielding. "I have no reason to deceive you. Our enemies are the same, our cause is just. Join me, and together we can bring an end to the Lannister's reign of terror."

"What about the Freys?"

"They have been dealt with."

"Dealt with?"

"Your niece wished to come with me, but it was not safe. So, I made her a deal. I would avenge her mother. Any Frey who is not at Winterfell with the Boltons will die, except for women and children."

"How?"

"Laced wine. Walder has planned a celebration at the Twins with his remaining sons and grandsons. Though, I do need to deliver the last part in person. A message directly from Arya."

"So, what do you propose?" The Blackfish asked.

Alysanne leaned forward, her silver hair shimmering in the candlelight. "An alliance. Together, we stand a better chance of achieving what we both want: the end of Lannister tyranny. I am willing to aid in the restoration of House Stark as Wardens of the North. If I'm not mistaken, Jon Snow plas to face the Boltons and reclaim Winterfell."

"He is a member of the Night's Watch."

"Lord Commander if memory serves me correctly. And yet he is still the son of the last true Warden of the North, Lord Eddard Stark."

"But, Robb is alive..."

"Yes. As are his brothers an sisters. Jon Snow is under the impression that Ramsay has married Arya, and he intends to rescue her. That is all he cares about. He is not trying to seize Winterfell for himself. What does it say if we allow a pretender to stay in the ancestral seat of the liege lord they betrayed? What message does it send? I'll tell you. It says that if you betray your liege lord, you may steal all that is his. Much like how Tywin Lannister ordered the deaths of my siblings, so they could not grow to oppose his grandchildren."

The Blackfish's eyes narrowed, the gravity of her words sinking in. "And what of the Ironborn?"

"My men and women hold Moat Cailin. They also took Oldcastle, Hornwood and the Dreadfort-"

"The Dreadort?!" Edmure explained.

"Ironic, isn't it? While those traitors feast in the hall of those they betrayed, they lost their own seat... Now, will you support me in my quest to unseat the Usurpers and restore House Targaryen?"

"You saved me from surrendering my family's ancestral seat," Edmure began. ""You have saved Riverrun, Lady Alysanne," he said, his voice gravelly with emotion."We owe you a debt we can never repay."

Alysanne smiled, the weight of her choices settling upon her shoulders."Together, we can forge a new alliance.The Riverlands will stand with us—against the Freys, the Lannisters, and anyone who threatens our homes."

Edmure nodded, and the pair shook hands.

With their newfound alliance solidified, Alysanne set her sights on the Twins—the seat of House Frey. She would not allow them to go unpunished for their treachery. With her men at her back, she rode atop Elaenys towards the Crossing, the dragon's wings casting shadows over the land as they approached.

The Great Hall of the Twins was bustling with activity when Alysanne arrived. They had been reminiscing their supposed victory over the Starks and Tullys at the Red Wedding, but that celebration was about to turn to dust.

Alysanne dismounted and strode into the hall, her presence commanding attention.The Freys, caught off guard by her audacious entrance, exchanged wary glances as she approached their table, where Walder Frey sat flanked by his sons and grandsons.

"Lady Alysanne Targaryen," Walder greeted, his voice dripping with false bravado."What brings you to my hall? Surely you haven't come to join the revelry?"

Alysanne's lips curled into a cold smile. "I have come to deliver a message," she said, her voice steady. "A friend of mine asked that I leave you with this message. When people ask you what happened here, tell them that the North remembers.Tell them Winter came for House Frey."

As she spoke, she noticed the sly glances exchanged among the Freys, their expressions shifting from smugness to unease. Suddenly, the hall erupted into chaos as the Freys realized the wine they had been drinking had been laced with poison.

Walder's face drained of color as he grasped his throat, gasping for breath. One by one, the Freys slumped over, taken by the treachery they had so willingly embraced. As the last of them fell, Alysanne turned on her heel and walked out of the hall, leaving the chaos behind her.

Back atop Elaenys, Alysanne soared into the sky, the wind rushing past her as she made her way back to Riverrun. The Riverlands were now firmly under her control, and the Freys had been dealt with. But in the back of her mind, another storm brewed—one that awaited her in King's Landing... and the North.