[Dorne - Sunspear] 

"Corlys! Look, it's a bird!" Alysanne Targaryen cooed at her son, his tiny eyes widening with curiosity as a crimson-feathered creature flitted by. Corlys' twin sister Valaena gripped her mother's hand, her own gaze transfixed on the fluttering creature. The warm Dornish sun kissed their faces, highlighting their silver hair.

Laenor Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark and Alysanne's devoted husband, watched the interaction with a gentle smile, his heart swelling with pride.

He still found himself in awe when he looked at them. He couldn't believe he had managed to sire trueborn children.

Children who would carry Velaryon blood for the next hundreds of years.

In the quiet of her chambers, Alysanne's handmaiden brought forth a letter, the seal of the raven cracked open, revealing grim news from King's Landing. Alysanne's heart skipped a beat as she read the words scribbled in haste. Joffrey Baratheon was dead. The Purple Wedding, they were calling it. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the chaos that must be unfolding in the capital. She looked up from the parchment to find Laenor's gaze upon her, his eyes filled with concern.

The twins, Valaena and Corlys, cooed in their bassinets, blissfully unaware of the tumult their futures were entangled in.

The egg Valaena had been given remained still, its beauty unmarred by cracks or signs of life. Alysanne knew it was only a matter of time before it too would join the ranks of the Targaryen dragons.

Alysanne folded the letter with trembling hands. "Laenor," she began, her voice measured. "Joffrey is dead."

Yet another "King" had fallen.

First, Renly.

Then Robb. Though, he was secretly still alive.

Now, Joffrey.

Three of the the five "kings" were now removed from the Game of Thrones.

But, Joffrey had a younger brother, Tommen, who would surely be crowned in his place.

If the rest of the Seven Kingdoms followed Dornish law, it would be Myrcella being crowned.

Myrcella who currently resided in the Water Gardens, engaged to Alysanne's younger cousin, Trystane.

Alas, they didn't.

So, the Seven Kingdoms would be ruled by another boy king.

Though, from what Alysanne has heard, Tommen is the complete opposite of his older brother.

In many ways, it made him better.

Yet, it also made him easier to manipulate.

In her chambers, Alysanne's eyes scanned the letter again, her thoughts racing. Joffrey's death was not something she had foreseen, but it certainly was not unwelcome. The boy king had been a tyrant. But his demise brought forth a new set of challenges.

The clank of steel grew louder as they approached the dining hall, the heavy guard a constant reminder of the precarious position they were in. The doors swung open to reveal a table set with exotic Dornish fruits and spiced meats, surrounded by figures known and unknown to her. Arya Stark, looking more the part of a hardened warrior than the girl she had once been, sat with Arianne Martell, the two deep in conversation. The Sand Snakes lounged nearby, their eyes sharp and calculating. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, was an unexpected sight, as he seemed to prefer solitude.

Alysanne's heart fluttered as she stepped into the room, cradling Valaena in her arms, while Laenor held Corlys. She had to tell them. "Arya," she called out, her voice carrying across the room. "I have news from the capital."

The Stark girl looked up, a flicker of hope in her eyes that was immediately shadowed by skepticism. Arya had seen much in her short life, and it took much to shake her. "What is it?" she asked, her tone flat.

Alysanne approached the table with a sense of urgency. "Joffrey is dead," she announced, watching as the room stilled. The twins, oblivious to the gravity of the moment, gurgled in their parents' arms.

Arya's eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking to the children before returning to Alysanne. "How?" she demanded, her voice edged with the steel of vengeance.

"It seems it was poison," Alysanne replied, her voice tight. "Tyrion has been accused and taken into custody to await trial."

Arya's jaw clenched, and for a moment, the room held its breath. Then, she spoke, "Good."

The Sand Snakes looked at each other, the slightest hint of smirks playing on their lips. "It seems the gods of the Seven have answered our prayers," Obara said, raising her goblet in a silent toast.

Alysanne nodded solemnly. "Indeed, but we must not let this distract us from our true goal," she said, her eyes sweeping over her allies. "The Iron Throne remains in the hands of those who have no right to it."

The room hummed with murmurs of agreement as the tension grew thick. Arya's gaze never left Alysanne. "And what is your goal?" she questioned, her voice like the cold steel of Needle.

Alysanne took a deep breath. "To see the Targaryens restored to the Iron Throne," she said firmly, her eyes meeting Arya's. "And to ensure that no more innocents suffer the fate of our families."

"What about my sister?" Arya asked.

Sansa had been married to Tyrion. Yet another way for them to control the Starks.

But now, she was missing.

Sansa Stark, who had suffered so much at the hands of the Lannisters, had vanished in the chaos of the Purple Wedding.

Arya had hoped that her sister had found a way to escape, but the uncertainty gnawed at her.

"It would seem your sister escaped during the chaos of the Purple Wedding."

"The Purple Wedding?"

"It's what they're calling it. Apparently Joffrey's face was a horrible shade of red and purple."

The room remained silent for a heartbeat before Arianne Martell spoke up, "A fitting end for the monster," she said, her voice dripping with venom.

"He was on my list." Arya murmured.

"Your list?" Alysanne asked.

Arya nodded once. "Aye," she said. "The list of all the people I aim to kill."

The room grew tense, but it was Laenor who spoke up, "We understand your need for vengeance, Arya. But let us not forget, vengeance can be a double-edged sword. It is important to focus on the bigger picture."

"They killed your father, did they not?" She asked.

Laenor's face grew sullen. "They did."

"And? Would you not wish to avenge him?"

Arya's question hung in the air, a silent challenge to the room.

Alysanne tightened her grip on Valaena, who began to squirm in her arms. "Our immediate priority is to ensure the safety of the realm and our people," she said, her voice firm. "Revenge is a personal quest, but the fate of the Seven Kingdoms is a shared burden."

Arya's gaze remained on the twins, her mind racing. "Your children are... beautiful," she said finally, her voice softer than Alysanne had ever heard it.

"Thank you," Alysanne replied with a smile. "This is Valaena, named for the mother of the Conquerors, and this is Corlys, named for his ancestor, the famed Sea Snake. They are the future of House Targaryen and House Velaryon."

As Arya's eyes widened in realization, Alysanne could see the wheels turning in her head. She knew Arya had to be thinking of the implications of her words. The presence of two healthy Targaryen children could shift the balance of the realm.

"They are indeed," Arya said, her eyes never leaving the twins. "I had not known you had... children."

Alysanne nodded. "They are young, but strong. Born of fire and blood, as well as salt and sea" she said, her eyes shining with pride.

Arya's gaze lingered on the twins. "They do not know the horrors we have seen," she murmured. "May they never have to."

"That is my hope. To build a better world for our children... for all children."

With a gentle nod to Arya, Alysanne turned to the rest of the assembly. The Sand Snakes had grown still, their smirks replaced by contemplative looks. Even Sandor Clegane, who had remained silent so far, was watching the exchange with a hint of curiosity.

"Joffrey might be dead, but he still has a younger brother, Tommen."

Alysanne's words cut through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

"Tommen is but a boy," she continued. "Pliable and easily influenced, who will surely become another puppet for the likes of Cersei Lannister."

Arya's eyes darkened. "The Lannisters are a cancer to this realm," she spat.

Alysanne nodded solemnly. "And it is our duty to cut them out," she said. "But we must be strategic. The Iron Throne is not won by rushing into battles blindly. It requires patience, cunning, and unity."

The Sand Snakes exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Obara spoke up, her voice like a serpent's hiss. "The time for patience has long passed. We must act now, once my father returns, while the Lannisters are weak and divided."

Alysanne knew they were eager for battle. "Patience does not mean inaction," she said calmly. "We must be wise and strike at the right moment. With Joffrey dead, the Iron Throne is vulnerable."

"And what of his sister, Myrcella?" Arya's voice was low, but the question was loud in its implications.

"I will admit. I have yet to meet Myrcella. She was accompanied by a Kingsguard. At the time, I was pregnant, and did not wish to risk news of my pregnancy travelling to the Capital. There are still those who seek the end of my family line. If word of my children spread, their lives could be in danger." She paused, sighing. "I'm sure you've heard what happened to my brother and sister, Aegon and Rhaenys, and my mother, Elia."

Arya's expression was unreadable, but Alysanne knew she had. The story of the Sack of King's Landing was notorious.

"It is in their memory that I seek to restore my family's rightful place. My mother was supposed to be the Queen. My brother and sister, a Prince and Princess. Either married to one another, or to secure the allegiance of a Great House."

"Until your father ran away with my aunt Lyanna." Arya concluded.

"Ah, yes," Alysanne said, her voice tinged with sadness. "The events that sparked Robert's Rebellion."

The mention of the rebellion sent a chill through the room, the weight of history pressing down upon them all. The Sand Snakes shifted in their seats, their gazes flickering to the children, then to Alysanne. They knew the story well. How their aunt and cousins had been slaughtered by the Mountain and Amory Lorch, how their own father had been denied justice.

Oberyn Martell had never forgiven the Lannisters for what they had done to his sister Elia, or her children. The thought of his sister's youngest child growing up in a world where her mother's killers remained unpunished must have been a festering wound.

Now, he was surrounded by them.

Having attended the wedding of Joffrey and Margaery in place of his brother, Oberyn remained in the Capital, amongst the Lannister usurpers.

"I wonder if you have any tales from the North," Alysanne mused.

"Tales?" Arya questioned, her brows furrowed.

"Children's tales perhaps."

"Old Nan told many stories, though I hardly cared to listen. I preferred sneaking out to watch my brothers train."

The words brought a sad smile to Arya's face. "My father used to tell us stories as well," she said softly. "Of dragons, and kings, and heroes of old."

"Stories are the lifeblood of our people," Alysanne said, her eyes on Corlys as he reached out to touch Valaena's cheek. "They remind us of who we are, and where we come from."

"And who we can become," Laenor added, a knowing look in his eye.

Arya nodded, her gaze still fixed on the twins. "I've heard tales of Targaryens, too," she said. "Some say you can't be trusted. That you're all mad, and cruel."

"And what do you believe, Arya?" Alysanne asked, her voice steady.

Arya looked at the twins again, then back to Alysanne. "I believe in the tales of the dragonlords," she said slowly. "But I also believe in the tales of the Mad King."

"Ah, my grandfather," Alysanne said, her tone a mix of sadness and frustration. "His reign was indeed troubled. But let us not judge a house by the actions of a single man."

Arya nodded, though her eyes remained hard. "Fair enough," she said.

"Your sister, Sansa, was married to Tyrion Lannister, who is now being accused of Joffrey's murder," Alysanne said gently.

Arya's eyes snapped to Alysanne, her jaw tight. "And what of it?" she demanded.

Alysanne's gaze was calm. "The death of a tyrant is not something to mourn, but to celebrate," she said. "But we must not let our emotions cloud our judgement."

Arya's eyes searched hers, and for a moment, Alysanne saw the little girl she must had been before the world had hardened her.

"I have sent some of my best men to search for Sansa." Alysanne assured her.

Arya's eyes searched Alysanne's, looking for a hint of deceit, but found none. "Thank you," she said finally, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

"They will find her," Laenor promised. "And when they do, they will bring her to safety."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air. It was a promise not easily made in a world where safety was as fleeting as the alliances that once held the realm together.

With Joffrey's death, three of the five original "Kings" in the War of the Five Kings, were now dead.

Renly, Robb, ad now Joffrey.

But, the reality wasn't so simple.

Joffrey hada younger brother, Tommen, who would now ascend the throne in his older brother's place, despite neither having a true claim to it.

Ad Robb laid in Greywater Watch, nursing his wounds, and likely his pride.

Alysanne felt a pang of pity for the Stark boy-king. He had been so earnest in his quest, so sure of his place in the world. Yet, he had been outmaneuvered by the Lannisters and two of his own treacherous allies; the Freys and Boltons.

But the war was not over yet. Stannis Baratheon, who believed himself to be the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, was still alive, despite his failed attempt at marching on King's Landing. He clung to his own claim and had a fiery priestess at his side.

Alysanne felt the pressure mounting, the whispers of doubt and the ticking clock of fate echoing in her ears. Her dragons grew stronger by the day, but so did the chaos in the realm. The dragons needed time to mature, to become the powerful weapons of war they were meant to be.

So much was happening so fast, it was hard to keep track of every rumour and plot, though her spies did their best to try. The news from throughout the Seven Kingdoms was a constant stream of betrayals and alliances, a whirlwind of blood and fire.

The Iron Throne was not the be all, end all for her. Though, it did help. The looming threat from the North meant all of the Seven Kingdoms needed to be united.

Aegon's words echoed in her mind. The prophecy that had driven him to conquer Westeros centuries ago now felt like a personal warning to her. Alysanne knew that she had to act swiftly, but carefully.

The pressure to unite the fractured Kingdoms weighed heavily on her. Her ancestor's dream of the "Song of Ice and Fire" was more than a mere tale to her; it was a premonition of the horrors to come if the realm remained divided.

Alysanne looked at her children, the future of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon. Their silver hair and purple eyes a stark reminder of the legacy they carried. She knew she had to act, not just for the Iron Throne, but for the very survival of Westeros.