[Dorne - Sunspear, Alysanne's Solar]

Alysanne Targaryen, the unyielding flame that burned in the shadows of Dorne, sat regally in her solar, her eyes scanning the intricate replica of the Painted Table before her.

The solar she sat in was indeed a replica of the chamber of the Painted Table on Dragonstone. The room had been transformed to serve as a war room, a place where she could plot and plan the restoration of her family's reign over the Seven Kingdoms. The carved replica table was a masterpiece, a smaller but equally intricate version of the original, with a map of Westeros etched into its surface.

Her silver hair, a beacon of her Targaryen lineage, cascaded over her shoulders as she meticulously placed her carved wooden tokens—each one representing a house from the vast tapestry of Westeros—on the map.

The silver dragon tokens stood proudly on the table, reminding her of the fierce alliances she had forged. With the crimson lions of House Lannister and the proud stags of House Baratheon at the forefront of her enemies, she felt the weight of her destiny on her shoulders. Her belly grew at an alarming pace, a testament to the child she carried within her, a symbol of hope and the future she sought to secure.

Oberyn's bastard daughters, the Sand Snakes, lounged around the solar, their sharp eyes studying the table as well. They had pledged their swords to her cause, driven by the memory of the injustice done to their aunt and cousins. Their loyalty to House Martell was unquestionable, and Alysanne knew they would be vital in the battles to come.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and the soft glow of candles, casting shadows across the walls adorned with ancient tapestries. The Painted Table, a replica of the one at Dragonstone, was a constant reminder of her heritage and the throne she had been denied. It was a silent witness to her strategizing, a map of the realm that she longed to rule with wisdom and justice, not fear.

Alysanne's hand hovered over the tokens, her mind racing through the possibilities. The dragon tokens, carved from the finest woods and adorned with precious stones, were arranged to reflect the shifting alliances in her quest for the Iron Throne. The Velaryon dragons, akin to her own house's, were placed alongside her, a symbol of the unity between Dorne and Driftmark. The Celtigars, fellow Old Valyrians, had their own section, showing their unwavering support for the Targaryen cause. House Massey's tokens were placed on Stonedance, which was across the Narrow Sea.

She had considered sending terms to House Bar Emmon, who ruled over Sharp Point, which cut off Stonedance from Driftmark. Duram Bar Emmon, only ten and five, was reportedly growing tired of being overlooked despite his loyalty to Stannis Baratheon.

Men's egos often led to their downfalls, so if Alysanne could capitalize on this and secure House Bar Emmon, it would be worth it.

She even pondered contacting House Brune. There were two branches; one who led from Brownhollow, the other from Dyre Den; of which were located on Crackclaw Point, West of Claw Isle.

Both were regarded as "half-wild", and notoriously distrustful of outsiders.

Not to mention, a recently knighted Lothor Brune was taken into the service of Petyr Baelish, or Littlerfinger. A man who was more snake than human, whom Alysanne trusted with nothing, especially not her life or the life of her unborn child.

Though, they had remained loyal to her father to the very end, fighting with him in the Battle of the Trident.

The map on the table was a puzzle, one she had been piecing together since her father's untimely death. Each token a pawn in a grand game of thrones that had consumed the lives of so many. But Alysanne was not just playing to win; she was playing to survive and restore her family's legacy.

But it was the empty spaces that troubled her most—the lands of the unaligned or the unreachable.

The thought of aligning with House Stark was a tempting one. If she could find Arya, perhaps she could mend the rift between the two houses and gain the loyalty of the North.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Arianne, her cousin and confidante, slipped into the room, her gaze immediately drawn to the Painted Table.

"Alys, you look like you're about to conquer the world," she said with a smirk, her voice carrying the warmth of the Dornish sun.

Alysanne looked up from the table, a smile playing on her lips. "Perhaps I am," she responded, her eyes never leaving the map. "With Dorne at my back and our dragons in the sky, who's to say what we can achieve?"

She leaned back in her chair, caressing her belly, which was growing at an alarming rate.

"You're growing quite quickly," Arianne asked, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

"Yes, but the maestar assures me it nothing to cause concern."

Alysanne did not trust most maestars. In studying text regarding her ancestors, she had grown increasingly weary of them. Mainly with the idea they were secretly attempting to eradicate the Targaryens.

But this maestar was different. He was a Martell loyalist and had served House Martell for decades. His lineage was almost as noble as hers, and she had come to trust his counsel in matters of health.

The room grew quiet as Alysanne contemplated her next move. The alliance with House Stark was crucial, not just for the military might of the North but also for the symbolic power it would hold. A united front of Targaryens and Starks would be a formidable sight to behold, a stark reminder of the alliance that had once brought peace to the realm.

"We need to find Arya," Alysanne spoke firmly, her eyes still on the map. "The Starks' support is vital. With them, we can claim the North and the Riverlands."

"Any world from the men you sent to locate her?"

Alysanne shook her head. "Not yet. But I hope soon."

Arianne nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "What of your other allies?"

"The Velaryons stand with us," Alysanne said with confidence, her hand resting on the wooden dragon token that represented House Velaryon. "My marriage to Laenor has united our houses. Driftmark's fleet is ours, and with it, the power to control the seas."

"And the Celtigars?" Arianne inquired, pointing to the tokens a short distance away.

"Loyal as ever," Alysanne affirmed, placing a wooden dragon token with emerald eyes atop the region of Claw Isle. "Their house is small but strong, and they have never forgotten our shared heritage."

The Painted Table, a testament to her ambition, had been meticulously crafted by the finest Dornish carpenters. It was a smaller version of the one her ancestors had used to rule the Seven Kingdoms, but it served its purpose well. The map of Westeros was carved into the table's surface, the lands and seas etched with such detail that it looked as if one could reach out and touch the very heart of the continent. The dragon tokens were arranged with purpose, each one a declaration of power and intention.

The lion and stag tokens were placed with precision, denoting the Lannisters and Baratheons, the usurpers of her family's throne.

They rested on Casterly Rock, Storm's End, and Dragonstone, which was House Targaryen's ancestral seat, which was stolen from them at the end of the rebellion. It now housed Stannis Baratheon and his family.

Stags in the house of dragons, Alysanne couldn't help but scoff.

The Tyrells had aligned with Renly, thus a stag with green emerald eyes was placed over Highgarden.

The allies she had accumulated and hoped to accumulate rested mainly amongst the Narrow Sea and Blackwater Bay. She had secured houses Velaryon, Celtigar, and Massey. And she was considering correspondance with House Bar Emmon as well as both branches of House Brune; of Brownhollow and Dyre Den.

There was many other small houses as well.

House Staunton of Rook's Rest. House Rykker of Duskendale. House Mooton of Maidenpool. House Sunglass of Sweetpoint Sound (and their vassals House Rambton of Rambton). House Buckwell of Antlers.

Amongst others. And those were just the ones from the Crownlands. By targeting these houses, she was essentially surrounding Dragonstone.

Eventually Stannis would have to leave to fight in the war, now that he sought the Iron Throne.

When he did, it left Dragonstone ripe for the taking. Alysanne could regain her family's ancestral seat, which her ancestor Daemon Targaryen claimed was relatively easy to defend. Even more so with dragons.

It might even help her dragons, which were known to thrive on Dragonstone.

Alysanne felt a sudden urge to stand, her hand moving to her swollen belly. Her child was strong, a sign of the dragon blood that flowed through its veins. She could feel the life within her, a force as fiery as the dragons that had been born to her. Her mind drifted to the creatures she had named after her ancestors: Visemyria, the obsidian dragon with eyes of molten orange, symbolizing the fierce Queen Visenya and the legendary warrior-queen Nymeria; Elaenys, the pearl-white dragon with purple eyes, a gentle giant that mirrored the grace of her mother Elia and her sister Rhaenys; and Aegarax, the deep purple dragon with eyes of gold, named after her brother Aegon and the god of all creatures that walk, run, swim, or fly.

The dragons had grown rapidly since their hatching, a sign of their Valyrian lineage. They were not just weapons of war, but the embodiment of her right to rule. The people of Dorne revered them, and she knew that when the time came, they would stand with her and her allies.

Dragons did not age in the same way as humans. Given freedom, they were able to grow far quicker.

The Velaryons, with their silver hair and sea-going prowess, were a natural fit for her cause. Their fleet, combined with the fire of her dragons, could reshape the tides of the war. The Celtigars, whose blood also ran thick with Valyrian magic and ships, had recognized the truth of her claim and pledged their swords to her. House Massey, with their storied loyalty to the Targaryens, had come to her side through her marriage to Laenor, who was their Lord's paramour, and she knew their stalwart support would not waver.

It was the minor houses that posed the greatest challenge. They had little to gain from aligning with Stannis, who treated them with the same contempt as the rest of the realm did. Alysanne believed that if she could offer them respect and protection, they might be swayed. Thus, she had called for Uncle Doran and Uncle Oberyn's counsel, along with Ellaria Sand, whose sharp mind and political acumen had proven invaluable.

The three of them entered the solar, the light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor. Uncle Doran's eyes immediately fell upon the Painted Table, his gaze lingering on the wooden dragons that lay scattered across the map. Ellaria's gaze was more calculating, her eyes darting from token to token as she assessed the situation.

Her Uncle Oberyn, ever the warrior, walked straight to Alysanne, his eyes alight with the fire of battle. "What moves do you wish to make, my queen?"

"I am considering letters to Houses Bar Emmon, Staunton, Rykker, Mooton, Sunglass, and Rambton," Alysanne said, her voice steady. "Their status with Stannis is uncertain, but their lack of respect may be our opening."

Doran stroked his beard thoughtfully, his eyes moving over the wooden tokens that represented their allies and enemies. "Bar Emmon may be the easiest to sway. Their lord is young and eager for recognition. Offer them a place at your side, and perhaps they will cast aside their current loyalties."

Ellaria stepped closer, her raven hair a stark contrast to the Targaryen silver. "And what of the others?" she asked.

Alysanne turned her gaze to the unclaimed territories, the wooden dragons of her allies standing tall against the lions and stags. "Houses Sunglass and Rambton may be persuaded with the promise of protection from the Iron Throne's reach," she said, placing her hand on the region of Sweetpoint Sound. "They are but small fish in the sea, and I suspect they fear being swallowed by the larger sharks."

Doran nodded in agreement. "And House Buckwell? They are distant, but their lands are rich in resources. If we can guarantee them safety and prosperity, they may find our cause more appealing than Stannis's."

Oberyn's eyes gleamed with the fire of his house's words—unbowed, unbent, unbroken. "And what of the Brunes?"

"The Brunes are more of a wildcard," Alysanne replied, placing her hand over the rugged lands of Crackclaw Point. "Lothor Brune is a freerider in the service of Petyr Baelish. But, I am told the Brunes do not consider him their kin."

Doran's gaze followed her hand. "If you can appeal to their sense of honor and loyalty to the Targaryen cause, it may be possible to sway the other branch. They did fight alongside your father, after all."

It was true. The Brunes were loyal to the end of the rebellion, fighting alongside Alysanne's father, Rhaegar, in the Battle of the Trident.

"What's this?" Doran asked, picking up a piece of parchment.

"A list," Alysanne replied. "Of Houses and their allegiances."

Doran studied the tokens, his gaze lingering on the unclaimed lands. "The minor houses," he mused. "Oft forgotten, yet their swords can still swing the tides of battles."

Oberyn's hand clenched into a fist at the mention of the minor houses. "They are ripe for the taking," he said with a fiery glint in his eyes. "Their loyalties lie where they think their futures do. Offer them a better tomorrow, and they will follow you to the ends of the earth."

Alysanne nodded, considering her uncle's words. The dragon tokens of her allies looked almost lonely amidst the vast sea of unknowns. "I want to win their allegiance," she said firmly, "not just their swords."

Oberyn's eyes narrowed, his thoughts clearly on the battlefield. "Respect is earned, not given," he said. "Stannis does not understand the hearts of the people. He offers them fear and duty, not loyalty and honour."

Alysanne knew her uncle spoke the truth. Stannis's stern demeanor and unyielding nature had earned him a reputation as a cold and unforgiving leader. If she could offer these houses something more, perhaps they would see the value in aligning with a Targaryen queen who promised peace and prosperity, rather than the chaos that had engulfed the realm under the Baratheon (and now Lannister) banners.

"Send your letters," Uncle Doran advised, his voice measured. "But be careful with your words. These lords are not fools. They will need more than pretty promises to abandon their oaths to Stannis."

Alysanne was unsure when her mind began to disassociate, only that she was no longer in her solar in Dorne.

The room she found herself in was vastly different, the smell of the sea replaced by the scent of rain and the sound of waves with the clank of armor and the murmur of a distant storm. The walls were made of ancient stone, weathered by time and war, and she knew she was not in Dorne anymore.

The chamber she stood in was cavernous, with a high vaulted ceiling lost in the shadows above. A massive fireplace roared to life in the corner, casting flickering light across the floor, revealing a tableau of chaos.

In the center of the room, a figure lay lifeless, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. Alysanne's heart raced as she recognized the crimson cloak and golden antlered crown—it was Renly Baratheon, the self-proclaimed king, slain by a shadow that seemed to rise from the very earth.

The shadowy form was unlike anything she had ever seen—a monstrous creature of darkness, with a sword made of pure shadow. It was almost as if the very essence of betrayal had been given form and had struck down the false king.

As the shadow dissipated, the room grew clearer, and Alysanne recognized the banners adorning the walls. The castle was indeed Storm's End, and the scene unfolding before her was one of horror and confusion.

The shadowy figure retreated, and in the flickering firelight, she saw Lady Catelyn Stark, her face a mask of shock and disbelief, standing over the lifeless body of Renly. The woman beside her, the mysterious knight with short blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, grabbed Catelyn's arm and whispered urgently. They exchanged a knowing glance, and together, they turned and fled the chamber, their footsteps echoing through the vast hall.

Immediately after the disappeared from view two guards entered the room to find their slain "king".

The scene quickly shifted, now showing Stannis and his men sieging Storm's End.

With their "king" slain, the Stormlanders who had supported Renly were forced to yield.

The Tyrells were nowhere to be seen, likely having fled upon hearing of Renly's death. But, from some of the sigils on the armour of the yielding men, Alysanne realized there were also soldiers from the Reach who had remained.

The vision grew more intense as the two women ran through the castle, their steps echoing through the cold stone corridors. The blonde knight, with a grace that defied her size, guided Lady Catelyn with surprising ease. Alysanne had never seen this knight before. Her curiosity piqued, she studied the knight's features—tall, with a sharp jaw and a proud bearing that spoke of valor and strength.

As they fled, Alysanne felt the pull of the vision begin to fade, the images of the unknown woman and Lady Catelyn slowly dissolving into the ether. Her mind raced to make sense of what she had just witnessed. Could it be that Renly was about to be killed by a shadowy assailant? And why were these two seemingly innocent women fleeing the scene?

The vision had been as disturbing as it was enlightening. Renly's death was a pivotal moment in the War of the Five Kings, one that had shifted the balance of power significantly.

"Alysanne! Alysanne!"

She was jolted back to reality at the sound of someone calling her name.

Her heart pounding, Alysanne looked around the solar, the vision of Renly's death still fresh in her mind. The room was just as she had left it, the Painted Table still bathed in candlelight, her allies' tokens unmoved. The only indication that she had been anywhere else was the cold sweat that clung to her brow.

"Alysanne, what's wrong?" Arianne's voice was filled with concern as she rushed to her cousin's side.

Breathless, Alysanne recounted her vision, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I saw Renly...dead. In Storm's End. A shadow...it killed him. And there were two women, Lady Catelyn and...and another, a knight with blonde hair. They fled together."

"A shadow," Her Uncle Doran repeated.

Alysanne nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "It was like nothing I have ever seen. It just...emerged from the ground and killed him; stabbed him in the heart."

Oberyn's gaze sharpened. "A shadow with a sword of pure darkness," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "The tales of shadow demons are not just for children's bedtime stories."

Ellaria's eyes flashed with understanding. "You believe this vision is a true reflection of events to come?"

Alysanne nodded, her silver hair framing her pale face. "Or one that has already come to pass."

Her mind raced with the implications of what she had seen. If Renly had indeed been killed by some dark force, it could mean that the path to the Iron Throne had just become more treacherous. This War of Kings was already a tangled web of alliances and betrayals, and the death of one of its major players would send shockwaves through the realm.

"I will need a list of all the men who now answer to Stannis. He had a third of the men his brother did, and still emerged victorious. Now many of the Stormland houses have switched to his side, along with some from the Reach."

With his newly accumulated men, Alysane suspected his reliance on the minor houses would become even less, giving her an opening to acquire the allegiance.

It also didn't escape Alysanne the relevance of this siege.

As the second son, Stannis should have inherited Storm's End upon his brother's ascension to the throne.

However, after he failed to reach Dragonstone in time to capture and kill Alysanne's grandmother, aunt and uncle, his brother awarded it to Renly instead, leaving Stannis to claim Dragonstone.

Her vision had shown her a stark reality, a harsh truth that could reshape the tapestry of the realm. Renly's death, if it had indeed occurred or was soon to come, would leave a power vacuum in the south that could be exploited. The Tyrells, who had backed Renly, would be grieving and seeking new alliances.

The Tyrells, despite not being overt players in the game of thrones, longed to see their blood on the Iron Throne.

Which made Alysanne suspect they would now ally themselves with the Lannisters, who sat the throne, through Joffrey, regardless of their illegitimate claim.

Because she had rejected, or refused to respond, to their marriage pact, she highly doubted they would reach out to her again.

While they maintained majority of their army, there were some houses from the Reach who had or would side with Stannis after Renly's death.

Alysanne knew that she had to act swiftly. If the vision was true, then the balance of power was about to shift dramatically. The Tyrells would be grieving and vengeful, and Stannis would be stronger than ever before. She needed to ensure that she and her allies were prepared for whatever was to come.

She turned to one of her servants. "Send word to my spies in the Stormlands. I want a list of Houses and to whom they've pledged their allegiance."

The servant nodded and hurried off to do her bidding.

Alysanne remained seated, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. Her vision of Renly's death was a stark reminder of the treacherous world she was about to re-enter. The map on the table, which she had studied so intently, was a tangible representation of the chaos she had glimpsed.

Her attention was returned as her Uncle Doran cleared his throat.

"Now might not be a good time to tell you this, but news of your dragons has likely reached the capital."

"What? How?"

Her dragons had been growing at a steady pace, with their insatiable appetites. They could no longer reside in her room.

Thankfully, her uncles had anticipated this and shortly after their hatching had ordered the construction of a large dome like structure, similar to the old Dragonpit in King's Landing. Only, her dragons were not chained and confined.

While much of the lore surrounding dragons had been lost, they sent word across the sea to the Free Cities, summoning any with the blood of the dragon, who also spoke Valyrian, to come to Dorne, and engage in the process of becoming dragonkeepers.

At first, this frightened Alysanne who worried her dragons would not take kindly to strangers. But, with patience, and a few close calls, a few of these people had managed to somewhat tame the dragons. Mostly due to Alysanne's insistence and repetitive conversations with her dragons.

Alysanne trusted them. If any of these people had nefarious intentions, her dragons would not hesitate to burn them.

"Myrcella arrived over a week ago. With her, a Kingsguard, Arys Oakheart. "

Of course. With her strategizing, she had completely forgotten about the betrothal between Myrcella and Trystane, arranged by Tyrion Lannister (who was probably the only decent Lannister), who was the temporary Hand of the King, as his father fought in the war against Robb Stark.

"Do they―" She gestured to her bulging belly.

"Do they know? No. We've done our best to keep her relegated to the Water Gardens. But, eventually she will come to Sunspear."

At which point Alysanne would need to be increasingly careful to conceal her pregnancy.

Her belly was more than noticeable. It was large and round, to the point the maestar suggested it might be more than one babe.

Twins were not a common occurrence in the Targaryen bloodline. Though, there were a few instances. Aerea and Rhaella, daughters of Princess Rhaena and her brother-husband, Prince Aegon. Baela and Rhaena, daughters of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Laena Velaryon. And Jaehaerys and Jaehara, the son and daughter of Rhaenyra's half siblings, Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena.

Alysanne held little doubt if the Lannisters found out about her pregnancy, they would do everything in their power to ensure her child or children were not brought to term.

But, Alysanne would be damned if she let those disgusting, obnoxious, self interested lions take any more of her family from her.

No. As long as there was breath in her lungs, she would do whatever it took to see House Targaryen rise again.

And it would. Of that, she was certain.