First of Her Name

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1262587.

Rating: Not Rated

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence,
Major Character Death
Category: Gen
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Relationship: Ashara Dayne/Ned Stark, Ashara Dayne/Jon Connington, Catelyn
Stark/Ned Stark, fem! Jon Snow/OC, Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark,
Dacey Mormont/Robb Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar
Targaryen
Character: Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Catelyn Stark, Ned Stark, Ashara Dayne, Jon
Connington, Robert Baratheon, Cersei Lannister, Jaime Lannister,
Barristan Selmy, Daeron Connington(OC)
Additional Tags: Female Jon Snow
Stats: Published: 2014-03-03 Completed: 2014-06-19 Chapters: 4/4 Words:
13548

First of Her Name

by Basileus

Summary

Or a world where Rhaegar Targaryen was right about one thing he was wrong in canon.

Notes

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Comments with thoughts/criticism greatly appreciated.
‘When Westrosi think of historical women in the first three hundred years past Aegon’s
Landing, that are universally respected and feared till this day, three names come at the top:
Queens Visenya and Alyssanne and The Queen that Never Was-Rhaenys. Yet none of the
trio truly changed the lot of women in Westros, and the last of them fell trying to defend the
right of women to the Iron Throne. It took nearly another two hundred years before another
rose to bring substantial change. Though neutral records from that era are rare, a recently
discovered dossier from the library of Winterfell reveals a truly fascinating account of the
first female monarch of Westros. Written in third person by a Maester from the ramblings
of a dying Lord Paramount, it is still one of the most important accounts from that era.’

Slightly inspired by my own fic: The Weirwood on the Volcano

‘Had I been born a girl, as my father had envisioned, I would have avenged my siblings a
long time ago.'
See the end of the work for more notes
 The First of Her Name

294AL, Winterfell.

Robb Stark knew that his mother was not fond of his sister, but it still came as a shock for him to
see Joanna be harshly censured for practicing swords with him. She had been sent to bed with just
bread and water, and Robb wasn’t even allowed to see her and apologize for asking her to practice
swordplay with him. No, she had been the one made to apologize, for wasting the time of the future
lord of Winterfell, he though clenching his fists.

It wasn’t like this when it was just the two of us. Mother never treated her this way then, and I
almost thought she was glad to have a girl to dress up. But Joanna preferred swords to needles and
horses to clothes; and Lady Catelyn soon had her trueborn daughter, Sansa. After Arya was born,
she turned very cold towards Joanna. I don’t know what is her problem, she might be a bastard but
she is a girl, she doesn’t get to inherit with me and Bran around, to say nothing of the girls.

It might just be that she is so good with swords. Though he and Theon were stronger, they found it
extremely hard to keep up with Joanna, whose speed made her a truly formidable adversary.
Though neither I or Theon will admit it, she could probably beat us with a little more training.
They had begun training together, when they were three. Father encouraged it, saying about how
aunt Lyanna and uncle Benjen sparred together, though he did look a bit sad. But that was then
and this is now.

Mother is probably just worrying about her. All that talk about her needing to behave like a proper
lady to find a ‘suitable’ husband, as she is about to become a woman. And not being a bad
influence on Arya. The thought was laughable; Joanna was too demure despite her formidable
skills with a blade, whereas Arya was the real firebrand.

She is probably just worrying about the King coming.

294AL, Winterfell.

Robb finally got an idea why Mother was angry with Joanna so recently. It’s her semblance to Aunt
Lyanna, she and Arya are the only ones to take after the North, though she has her mother’s eyes.
Those violet orbs could not have come from elsewhere.

Sansa had been betrothed to Prince Joffrey, and this was why Mother was so flustered recently.
Mother feared that the King would want Joanna who looked like his lost love. The face, as the
singers say, that could have sailed a thousand ships, and bring a kingdom down. The King
however had chosen the true-born girl for his son. Though that has not stopped him from his
liberties with Joanna. He was shocked to see the way the King behaved with her. He had tried to
speak, but Father had silenced him. He is our King and we must obey. Even the Queen remains
silent, thought Robb.

Mother is unhappy too, and she has been yelling at Jo for her ‘inappropriate behavior’. Poor
Joanna has been hiding in her room, pretending to be sick, though that hasn’t stopped the King
from asking for her.

He was on his way to meet her, after the ride outside the Castle, Joffrey wanted to race, that little
shit, when he noticed the disturbance. Jo was running towards them, being followed by the King.
Robb’s blood boiled and he dismounted to run towards Joanna. Yet he was too slow, the King had
reached forward to grab her hand as just as he got off the horse. What happened next was a sight he
would never forget, for Jo turned around and slashed at King with the short-sword Father gave on
her last name day. It was simply a flesh wound, a long slash, but the sight of the King bleeding
from a sudden attack from an eleven year old girl left everyone stupefied. The King yelled and
tried to staunch the wound, and even the Kingsguard were too slow to stop Joanna from tearing the
reins from his hands, and ride Robb’s horse out of Winterfell. It was indeed fortunate that none of
the Southron Archers were around. Everyone was standing there, shocked into silence, before his
father rushed to the King and yelled for a maester. The Kingsguard took off after the girl, and he
had almost followed them, when Jory stopped him. One look at Jory’s face was enough for him to
realize that Joanna was better off not being found.

As he looked away, and started walking towards the castle, he could almost convince himself that
he was mistaken in thinking that the look on Queen Cersei’s face was one of admiration.

Ser Jaime had found the horse, riderless, close to the White Knife. There was simply no hope for a
eleven year old, nobly raised girl to survive in the wild alone, and so Robb could only watch as his
father burned her old clothes, and spread the ashes in the crypts, close to Aunt Lyanna’s grave.

Kings get whatever they want, he thought, clenching his fists. King Robert had recovered speedily
enough, with enough wine, and was too busy chastening Ser Jaime for not getting ‘his wild wolf’
back to him. How can father stand this man? He and his father had a shouting match in the crypts
the night before, and his father had finally silenced him by reminding what happened to House
Stark the last time they had defied a King. I don’t want to lose any more of you, he had said before
breaking down. And Robb could understand what his father was trying to say, though he disagreed.
If you were here and The King wanted to drag you South, I would have slit his throat, Kingsguard
or not. But you are not here Jo, and I cannot cause trouble for my family.

May you rest in Peace.

301 AL, King’s Landing.

Robb was surprised to see his father at the harbor, and even more surprised when the man ran
forward to embrace him. This was highly atypical , and he wondered how much these three years
as Hand had changed his father.

‘I am glad to see you too, but what is wrong?’

‘I wasn’t even sure if your ship had made it past the blockade, these are dangerous times.’

‘What happened?’

‘Targaryen.’

He had heard the rumors too, fomenting in the East. Dragons and someone creating trouble in the
Free Cities, a Silver haired man. Apparently the old Ghiscari Cities of Slaver’s Bay had fallen and
a new dragon is preparing his armies there.

‘Wasn’t Volantis supposed to fight ?’

‘Volantis lost, and their fleet was captured. The Targaryen forces have captured Dragonstone.
Velaryon has sealed off Blackwater, your ship was probably one of the last that made it in.’
‘Dragonstone fell?!’

‘Lord Stannis and his family has been put to the sword. Three for three, said the letter they sent to
tell us to run to the Night’s Watch when we can.’

The Queen, Prince Viserys and the newborn Princess, all of whom had died in the last battle for
Dragonstone. They were supposed to be the last Targaryens, but if so who is this?

‘Is this a Blackfyre?’

‘Possible, the Golden Company marches with them. But we are not sure. The Eyrie and
Highgarden have fallen silent. ’

The Tyrells had fought for the Mad King, but surely Aunt Lysa wont abandon us? Aloud he
wondered, ‘What about Dorne?’

‘Their letter came within moments of the Targaryen threat. Fire and Blood was the only thing on
it. Lord Renly has left for Storm’s End to get men, and Lord Tywin has been written to. He and
your Grandfather are massing troops, but there are loyalists like Darry in the Riverlands . Their
path will not be smooth. I have written to Lord Umber to help Bran call the banners, but it will be
too late by then.’

‘Why are we still in King’s Landing and not off to Storm’s End?’

‘We are unsure how many of the Lords of the Crownlands are still with us, and the war will be lost
should we leave Aegon’s Throne behind. Besides, Robert will not run.’

Of course. ‘So we stay and fight?’

‘King’s Landing won’t fall as easily as Dragonstone, not unless those rumors about dragons are
true. If they are, there is nowhere to run.’

The Field of Fire. Harren the Black and Harrenhall. ‘So we hole ourselves up in the Red Keep?’

‘And hope Lord Renly and Lord Tywin get here in time.’

The attacks came on the third day. The defense of the City lasted bare moments after the very
much real dragons tore a section of the walls down, as the eunuch soldiers attacked the City. We
might as well have followed the Imp’s advice and used Wildfire, but Father and the King were
against it. Besides, the dragons could have used that to burn the whole City down. They were all
holed up in the Red Keep, in Maegor’s Holdfast, waiting for the inevitable. The gold cloaks had
yielded a long time ago, and their only hope was that the Targaryen leader would be reluctant to
turn his family’s legacy into another Harrenhall. To make matters worse, Lord Varys, who knew
all the passages out of the Keep, had disappeared.

They were all standing the Throne room, the Kingsguard forming a circle in front of the Iron
Throne. The Northmen huddled to a corner in the left. Your orders are to protect your Mother and
sisters, and no one else, not even me, Father had said, same goes for all Northmen here. Ser Jaime
stood next to the Queen and her children, with more Lannister men. The other men from the
Westerlands formed two protective lines in front of the room, along with the last Baratheon men.
No Lord of the Crownlands had sent aid, and they all awaited the inevitable. If we can take their
leader down.

Nonetheless, no one had anticipated that they would use wildfire to bring the door down. The
explosion and the instantaneous crossbow fire in the momentary confusion had finished the last of
the defenders. Only the Kingsguard, and the men guarding the women and children remained.

In walked the leaders of the assault, the four warriors who promised Doom. The Dornish Prince
would have been easy to recognize from the armor bearing the Sun and Spear of House Martell,
even without his father whispering The Viper. There was a red headed man, with a Griffin on his
armor, gripping a sword as his eyes darted over the room. The silver haired man however bore the
Star of House Dayne, and not the Targaryen dragon, as he gripped his greatsword tightly.

No, it was the dark-haired woman, clad completely in black armor, who bore the Targaryen
insignia. On her headed rested a circlet of Valyrian Steel, adorned with many rubies. The
Conqueror’s crown, that the Dornish took from the corpse of the Young Dragon. Seems like they
have returned it.

She glanced once over the room, and raised her bastard sword before yelling ‘Charge!’. The
Kingsguard, with the exceptions of Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan rushed to meet the challenge. Yet,
it proved to be a near one sided slaughter as all the four proved to be formidable foes. Meryn Trant
fell to the woman in less than six strokes, and his brethren did not fare much better. Arys Oakheart
lasted the longest, but the red headed man put him out of his misery soon enough. The Dayne had
taken down two of Knights alone.

‘Are these all your recruits, Usurper?’ taunted the Targaryen woman.

Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime stepped forward now. The Dayne moved on to attack Ser Barristan,
while Prince Oberyn took on Ser Jaime. His Father had moved away now, and stepped in front of
the Throne. He was about to join him, and so was Jory, when his father waved them back.

The other two however seemed content to wait and watch the outcome of those two duels. Ser
Barristan and the Dayne were near evenly matched, but Ser Barristan’s age made him slower,
giving Dayne the upper hand. Oberyn on the other hand was playing with Ser Jaime, using his
spear, to keep Ser Jaime off a significant distance while trying to deliver shallow cuts. Coated with
venom.

It did not last too long either. Dawn slipped through a crack in the armor and Ser Barristan Selmy
fell into the ground. At about the same time Prince Oberyn succeeded in impaling Ser Jaime. The
Queen’s scream filled the whole room, and yet Robb only had eyes on the woman who now
stepped forward, as Lord Stark raised Ice. Close up, Robb could see her violet eyes narrow with
contempt.

‘Daeron’, she commanded, and the silver haired man approached his father.

‘I warn you, Lord Stark, step aside now. Howland Reed is not here to save you this time.’

Robb froze as he saw the Dayne’s eyes. Grey, like Arya’s eyes. But he did not have time to wonder
as Dawn and Ice met once more in battle. Yet the outcome again was clear. Daeron Dayne was
clearly much more skilled and had the advangtage of youth. An armored hand crashed into his
father’s helmless face, and Lord Stark fell on the ground, the Dayne placing his foot atop him. He
was still alive however, and Dayne made no attempt to dispatch him off, the only thing that
stopped Robb from going to his help. That and mother, Sansa and Arya will be defenseless.

The woman now approached the Iron Throne. Robb half expected King Robert, the demon of the
Trident to rise up and attack with his war-hammer. But the fat man gripped the throne harder, and
yelled ‘No Dragonspawn will take this from me!’
‘Or what?,’ the woman replied lazily ‘Even an eleven year old girl can cut you with ease and you
expect me to take your threat seriously? In case you did not notice, Im not half as honorable as my
father-Victory is Victory, however it comes.’

‘Nonetheless, I had wanted to do this for six years now, to finish a job I should have completed on
that day in Winterfell,’ continued the woman.

No, it cannot be. But how?

‘Lya?’ whispered Robert Baratheon.

‘Visenya’ spoke the new Queen as Blackfyre swang down, and the second royal corpse graced the
Iron throne, after Maegor the Cruel.

Visenya Targaryen kicked the corpse down, as she sat on the throne, and leaned back, further than
what any man would consider safe. And, unlike Rhaenyra Targaryen, she rose uncut.

‘Lord Connington, as Lord Hand I leave the task of securing the City to you, more urgent tasks—‘

‘You think you will get away with this, my father—‘ yelled Queen Cersei.

‘I am not a four year old and my Balerion is not a cat. And for your information, it is a long
overdue meeting with Lord Tywin that beckons me away from King’s Landing.’

‘Lord Varys,’ she spoke to the fat man who had just stepped into the room. ‘To the black cells with
this woman and her bastards. Lock the Starks in the Tower of the Hand till I get back. ’

‘Long live Her Grace’ yelled the red headed man and the others who had begun flooding in
followed in chorus. But the Queen walked out, followed by the silver haired Dayne-Stark-he did
not know.

He had yielded than risk resisting and being killed. The red headed Lord Connington had them
locked up in the Tower of the Hand. His father’s injuries were not serious, but a maester had been
sent to have look.

It was the next visitor though who provided the highlight of their stay. A dark haired woman, older
than the Queen, but with violet eyes and clad all in black came to pay a visit.

‘Hello Ned,’ spoke Ashara Dayne.

‘Ashara,’ begun his father.

‘Checkmate, dear Ned. I lost the battle but won the war.’

‘You were behind all this?’

‘Visenya was, I have to give her credit-she does justice to both her parents.’

‘I can expl—‘

‘I have absolutely no interest in hearing your drivel. I had heard enough from her when I found her
starving in the streets of Braavos. Daeron found her on the verge of selling herself to a sailor, and
brought her to me. One look at those eyes, and I recognized my folly in not insisting that I take both
babes with me to Essos.’
‘She was my family—‘

‘And if this is how Northmen treat family, I am really glad that I escaped that. Exile might have
been a bitter pill, but it is better than being a female bastard in Westros.’

‘You know, what is funny Ned? If you had let me take her, I would have never told her she was a
dragon. She would have been my daughter, and not the heir to the Iron Throne, as I had promised
to you then. But you failed in your part of the bargain, and I saw no need to uphold my end,’
finished Ashara Dayne.

‘You were plotting all along?’

‘I wasn’t. Even Jon gave up hope. There were no more dragons left, and I never even told him.
Kept him focused with the Golden Company, he is commander now, did you know? I only told
him after ‘Senya came to me. Since then we have been using all our options. Blackfyre’s were very
willing to ignore the color of the dragon once they were sure it was a dragon, since they had none
left. And after the egg’s hatched, the rest was history. It was her idea to use the slave Cities as well,
good standing with the Faith as a side benefit and all.’

‘What will happen to us,’ whispered Lady Catelyn.

‘Ah, that I can answer. House Lannister and Baratheon have death warrants against them. Anyone
bearing the name, or anyone with the blood within three generations, be it true-born or bastard has
three weeks to take the Black or join the Silent Sisters. After that, it will be Fire and Blood. Lord
Tywin can’t escape that way though, the Queen wants his head rather too badly. House Tully- your
father sold his daughters for his own gain. He chose to play the game, and now must pay the price.
Every man has to take the Black, or face the same fate as Lannisters. Your sister also has to join
the Silent Sisters, she did poison her husband after all. A proper regent has to be found for the Vale
in any case. You’ll be spared though, since you are technically ‘family’. In fact, any Stark who
bends the knee can run back up North.’

‘Why?’ whispered Ned Stark.

‘Arryn getting poisoned? I don’t know, maybe her lover Baelish convinced her? And if you are
wondering why this sudden mercy for House Stark, I can assure you I have nothing to do with it.
Jon, Daeron and I proposed taking an extreme hard line, but the Queen was merciful.’

‘Anyways, I have to go now, I have a Castle to run while Jon runs the City, ’ finished Ashara
Dayne.

‘Ashara, before you go, is Daeron—‘

‘Blood does not matter Ned. For the world he is Ser Daeron Connington of Storm’s End,
legitimized by the Queen herself. What the smallfolk think is their affair, but I can very much
assure you that Daeron does not consider you to be his father, in any sense of that word.’

‘We Dornish use the name Daeron for two reasons. One for all the children resulting from the
Young Dragon’s invasion’

His father stepped back as if he had been slapped.

‘or after our goodbrother, King Daeron II the good. Think what you will Ned, but you have lost
and I , Ashara Dayne have won. I have seen Rhaegar’s daughter to the Throne, while your friend
rots in a ditch. Learn the difference between the dolls of a Septa and real women in future.’
And with that, Ashara Dayne left.

305 AL, Winterfell.

Robb Stark looked at the latest missive from King’s Landing. It was the customary invitation to
the forthcoming wedding of the Queen to Ser Daeron Connington. The Realm had healed fairly
easily, after Reach and the Vale had bent the knee, and Lord Tywin perished in a second Field of
Fire, close to Harrenhall. The Westerlands and Stormlands had fallen to order, after Lord Renly
burned in Storm’s End. It had taken the greater part of a year, and only then were the Starks
allowed to leave King’s Landing. A few thousand men got sent to the Watch by the end of it,
including Uncle Edmure and great-Uncle Brynden. He was glad that his grandfather had died
before the order had reached Riverrun. The Darry’s got the Castle, along with Paramountcy in the
Riverlands, for the exceptional service rendered to House Targaryen. A dead lord and four sons.

Robb still did not know what to think of the Queen. He had pleaded for a private audience, and was
surprised to be granted one. It was awkward as he tried to speak, while she sat silently. Her only
words were ‘the realm is more important than any family’.

He could acknowledge that the Queen was a success. She had put the Crown’s finances in order,
conscripted the gold mines in the Westerlands, and placed the Westerlands under a Governor
appointed by the Crown. The smallfolk loved their Warrior Queen, and the High Septon preached
that she was the mortal incarnation of the Warrior, though he suspected the Septon’s preference to
be alive had been an important factor behind that. But the realm finally had peace, and the end of
Lord Tywin had been a thing most people had considered favorable.

Except the three thousand that were sent to the watch, the bastards that were chopped down for
simply existing. Even the Conqueror had showed more mercy.

History may remember their First Queen favorably, but those of us who witnessed it firsthand will
only have bittersweet feelings. Visenya Targaryen had crushed a wilding invasion, and been
extremely successful in managing resources for winter, making her popular in the North. Our
Queen, the smallfolk say. No doubt they are celebrating the wedding, hoping more heirs, more
dragons to perpetuate House Targaryen, though they will have more Stark blood than not. She will
not be calling herself Connington in any case.

He had tried to speak with his brother, but had been coldly rebuffed. Ser Daeron was happy to
ignore his Stark ancestry, and most people felt it was for the best. That was a veritable can of
worms best left unopened. His mother had been struck by the whole thing, and she barely spoke
with anyone now. Especially after what the Queen did to her family. Sometimes I wonder if she was
spared only that she could suffer. The Queen had made a not so veiled threat against them getting
comfortable in the North. I have a Stark to place in Winterfell if it needs be. His father and he had
taken the warning seriously enough.

They would be unable to attend the Wedding , though his father would probably want to go. He
had tried to seek Daeron out too, but had no better luck.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember the little girl he used to play swords with, but he could
not reconcile her with the Queen. And it was only then, did Robb Stark acknowledge something.

I hate you, brother for not having anything at start and still winning this game. You get to have her
while I squandered my chance long ago.
355 AL, Winterfell

Lord Robb Stark read the letter thrice, just to be sure that he read King Aemon’s message
correctly. Visenya Targaryen, the former Queen was dead at the age of seventy two. She had
abdicated seven years ago in favour of her son, who now ruled from the Iron Throne, and retired to
Dragonstone.

Lord Connington had gone up to the Dragonmount when it erupted. The Queen attempted to ride
Melys to the summit but had failed. A charred form was recovered later, that was identified by the
presence of her ring.

She had requested her ashes be spread half in the Trident and half here in Winterfell. The King
requests me to grant this.

I cannot refuse, and nor shall I. The greatest member of our House has finally come to rest, the
same way she had lived her life-in fire and blood. Winterfell will be well honored to house some
relic of the First Queen.

He closed her eyes and thought about the days past. Violet eyes flashed across his memories, as he
wondered when the Gods will take him too.
 The Old Wolf
Chapter Summary

Visenya Targaryen and the realm, through the eyes of Lord Eddard Stark.

Chapter Notes

I own nothing.

To my favorite Rurouni and L_Cloudy

This was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but Himura wanted a Ned POV for this.
It got horrifyingly detailed, and there is probably a bit too much supernatural in here
but oh well!

Also: Those who have read my other fic, 'The Weirwood on the Volcano', Jaehaerys
and Visenya are not the same. Jaehaerys is a politician and lacks a conscience, while
Visenya is a warrior who still has traces of humanity left. A lot of the storyline is
different too, for story reasons.

Also: Ashara was the fav character to write about :)

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Starfall, 283AL

‘So you want me to pretend to be her mother?’

Eddard nodded, barely daring to glance up at Ashara to see her expression. ‘I don’t have any other
choice.’ Not with those violet eyes, no matter how much she looks like Lya otherwise.

‘I can certainly dispute that, plenty of Lyseni whores around. Although, I suppose it will be easier
to go with me, after all the story of my dishonor is already sung across the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘Ashara—‘

‘I made my bed Ned, and it’s my time to sleep on it. We were not betrothed, and I had the choice to
take Moon tea.’

‘If Brandon hadn’t –‘ choked Ned.

‘But he did, and you chose honor. I cannot blame you for that, Arthur was much the same.’

Thoughts of Ser Arthur Dayne were most unwelcome at the moment, but he forced himself to look
at the man’s sister at the face. ‘Will you do it?’

‘I owe the dead as much. But you are not getting Daeron, he stays with me.’
‘But Winterfe—‘

‘Is not his home. Your wife had a son by the way, congratulations. We all know the story of
Daemon Blackfyre, and the Redgrass field. That is not a fate I shall permit for my son and that’s
why we must leave.’

‘Leave?’

‘To Essos. If we stay, there will always be people who will want to use Daeron against your son.
Besides, there will be too many rumors about why you took only one bastard back, as I presume
you are not leaving me with her here.’

He nodded; he was not going to leave Visen-no-Joanna here in Dorne. That would not be what
Lyanna wanted,

‘Smart move, I’m not sure how long we could keep the story up under intense interrogation.
Besides, we don’t want to give Doran a new Queen, do we?’

He looked at her in surprise, he was more afraid of what Elia’s brothers would do with Lyanna’s
daughter.

Ashara laughed, and laughed hard, though there was a manic edge to it. ‘You didn’t know, did
you?’

‘Know what?’

‘Elia and Oberyn had a bit more in common than you would think.’

‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘Are you aware of, ah, Oberyn’s preferences?’

All the rumors he had heard about the Viper over the years, flooded to his mind. ‘Are you
suggesting—‘

‘Elia was as involved in this as Rhaegar. She even got Oberyn to take Lyanna’s maiden-cloak off,
seeing that there were no Starks available.’

‘She was just fifteen!!’ he yelled.

‘And was about to be married off in a few months!!’ screamed Ashara. ‘The hypocrisy of you
Northerners shocks me to the core. You could expect her to get married and have babies at that
age, but not make decisions about her life?’

He had to fall silent, because the barb hit close home, if only because of the consequences of
Lyanna running off.

‘We Dornish do not act this way, our women have choice,’ spoke Ashara Dayne. ‘Elia quite liked
Lyanna in Harrenhall, and prevailed over Rhaegar.’

‘Lyanna would not—‘

‘Says the man who spent half her life away in the Vale. Although I am not sure it made a
difference anyways, seeing the understanding exhibited by Brandon and Lord Rickard.’

His temper flared up as he jumped up, ‘Do not dare speak that way about my family!’
‘I will speak however I choose to!! Do not forget you now stand in Dorne and I have enough men
to reunite you and Reed with your sister!’

He collapsed back, knowing the truth in her words. Dorne can secede if it wanted to, and we can
do nothing. The threat of Robert will not stop the Daynes from killing me should they desire.
Prince Doran has a boy he can marry a Targaryen Princess to, and it will all end.

‘Aerys—‘he tried.

‘Was mad, we don’t dispute that. Which was why this union was necessary. He was getting
suspicious of Rhaegar, and Elia could not have more children. If anything happened to Aegon, we
would have ended up with Viserys on the throne.’

‘You did end up with Viserys,’ he noted, with savage pleasure.

‘I wish we had, we wound up with Robert instead. Lyanna had told Elia all about him you see, and
I was around. Another reason I must leave, for I cannot bear to remain in a Westros where Robert
Baratheon sits on Rhaegar’s throne, stained with the blood of Aegon, Rhaenys and Elia.’

‘The Targaryens were mad to begin with, it’s no great loss.’

‘We will see who was right, two decades down the road. You look at Aegon the Unworthy,
ignoring the fact that you gifted the throne to someone worse. The Targaryens built the Seven
Kingdoms and it will be unmade soon enough without them. There is no Jaehaerys I, no Daeron II,
nothing of worth that can come out of that line of savages that cannot read and the realm shall
bleed again. But I don’t care, we Dornish will be free by then, and the rest of the realm can go to
hell for all I care.’

‘So you want to crown Viserys?’

‘I want to crown no one; my allegiance was to Rhaegar and Elia, not to the realm. Now that they
are dead, I simply wish to move on, after I am sure Visenya is safe. Under normal circumstances, I
would want her to rule, but these are hardly normal times and safety comes first.’

‘You should give her to me, you know. She would be safest in Essos, where those eyes are not rare.
It is not easy being a bastard is Westros, not even in Dorne. Your wife would be happier too,’
finished Ashara Dayne.

‘And let you unite with loyalists and wage war?’

‘I certainly understand why you distrust me so, very well, have it your way.’

‘People will talk about you vanishing. ‘

‘They will find my dress in the sea, and no body. They will think it was from grief over Arthur’s
death, and you ripping my babe from me. Suits me well enough. Goodbye Ned, I hope we do not
meet again.’

294AL, Winterfell.

Ned heard the argument coming from Joanna’s room, long before he got there. Or rather, he heard
Catelyn yelling and silence from the other side. Lyanna would have not been silent; she would have
raised hell by now. Strangely, he almost wished that Joanna would speak back, despite the resulting
lack of domestic peace. She would be less like her father then, too little fire to too much ice in her.
Catelyn’s punishment could not get any worse even if Joanna spoke back, for Ned had drawn the
line about corporal punishment a long time ago.

He wanted to interfere, to go stop Catelyn, but it had been an unwritten rule that she was in charge
over the girls, even though Joanna spent most of her time with Robb, riding, playing swords and
acting like a boy. He had hesitated about leaving Catelyn in charge of Joanna, but to his surprise
she had not objected at first. She was so young then, and just wanted to mother the little girl.
Judging from how glad she was to have Sansa, she probably just wanted a daughter. Joanna also
posed no threat to Robb inheriting, which probably had a lot to do with why Lord Hoster had not
raised too many objections, especially considering the circumstances behind the ‘death’ of Ashara
Dayne. But now things are different. Too many people compare Joanna to Lyanna for her to be
happy about it. He loved Sansa and did not mind her looking like a miniature version of his wife,
but Catelyn had despaired over failing to give him a son with the look of the North. Arya was the
only one of their brood who was of the North, and Catelyn resented that the five year old was not
as beautiful as her half-sister had been at the same age. When people spoke of Lyanna, the
comparison was always to Joanna and not Arya, even though Ned knew that Arya resembled
Lyanna much more. We went to war for her, and so her beauty increased a thousand fold in the
eyes of men, so much so that only the blood of Old Valyria could fit their imaginations. Perhaps it
was just him, but he could see all the Targaryen features men missed on account of her dark hair.
Her eyes, nose, bone structure all screamed Rhaegar Targaryen, but men were more likely to think
of Ashara Dayne, another dead beauty of the Seven Kingdoms. Catelyn resents that Joanna will
grow up to be beautiful, as beautiful as the songs describe the dead to be.

It was petty, but it was not an issue he dared address to his wife, after all the initial kindness she
had showed to Joanna. The King’s impending visit had made both of them more agitated. He
worried whether he would have to hide Joanna elsewhere, but decided against it as that would
make men suspicious. His wife’s worry came from another level, for she had been suggesting
betrothing Joanna to someone, as she was about to become a woman. He had objected at first,
wanting to wait a few years. Bastard or not, she will grow up to be one of the greatest beauties of
the North, if not the realm. Few would refuse such a bride with the blood of House Stark. Lord
Bolton in fact had expressed interest in arranging something between his son Domeric and Joanna,
but Ned had stalled. She is too young, and I was not sure that Catelyn wanted her engaged before
Sansa. Catelyn had certainly resented the near contemptuous glances Roose had shot at her and
Sansa, and that steeled his resolve even more. Roose may have plans of taking over Winterfell
using her, and I have no intention of letting this marriage happen. Perhaps Jon Umber or Eddard
Karstark, or Daryn Hornwood or Clay Cerwyn would be better. All four boys would probably be
too happy to get such a beautiful wife, and their fathers would not mind too much on account of her
Stark blood. Though I hear Domeric Bolton plays the harp, as memories of Rhaegar Targaryen
rose to the surface. While a bastard running off would not cause as much issues like a trueborn
daughter, he at least wanted Joanna to have the choice of choosing her husband, if only to prevent
another tragedy. However, he suspected that Joanna will just smile demurely and ask him to find
her a match.He would find a Northern heir; he would at least let the children of the Last Targaryen
be in a position to inherit something, a meager recompense for the Iron Throne.

Catelyn is worried about that, she thinks Robert would want Joanna to marry Joffrey instead of
Sansa, as she fears that Joanna looks so much like Lyanna that Robert will not care for her
bastardry. That was not a completely unreasonable fear, and it was one he would have shared if the
Queen was not a Lannister who would never let her son wed a bastard. Nonetheless, Catelyn had
been insulated to reason, and she was acting very harshly with Joanna, strongly taking exception to
her practicing swordplay with Robb. She has heard too many stories about Lya and Ben. He had
tried to speak with her, but her only response was ‘your daughter will be Queen in either case’ and
then she began to weep. He tried to convince her that he would try to find a match for Joanna after
the Royal visit had passed but she was convinced that Joanna’s behavior made her unmarriageable
and she was setting a bad example for Sansa and Arya. A pity there are no Mormont boys, for I
could have betrothed her there, and fostered her off to Bear Island. She would have liked that.
Finally, he had agreed that his wife should try to make Joanna ‘more womanly’, she was eleven
and would soon become a woman. Perhaps Lya would have settled down, had she had a mother.
This was not his expertise, and he had to trust Catelyn in this. He only hoped that Joanna’s demure
nature will stop her from doing anything as drastic as running away.

The King had not suggested replacing Sansa with Joanna, for he apparently wanted Joanna for
himself. Catelyn had gone near berserk, screaming that her daughters will not share the company
of a King’s concubine. She had been screaming at Joanna all the time for being ‘improper’ and the
girl was too scared to leave her room now. Ned did not think it was quite fair, but it was perhaps
the best solution-he knew Robert was the King and will not change his ways, though he was not
aware that his friend’s taste ran to such young girls. Probably because she looks so much like Lya
or maybe it is because of the Lannister woman. Ashara’s words rang in his head again, for he knew
that she would have said something like ‘do not always blame the woman’, but he shook that
thought off. This is not Dorne, things are different here. For once, he was glad that Catelyn was
nothing like Ashara, for Ashara would have thrown Robert out after his behavior with the serving
girls, King or not. Or poisoned him in sleep. Robb had raisen concerns about the King’s behavior,
but he had shushed him down, the boy did not know how to deal with royalty after all.

Did Brandon know? Or Father? A sly voice spoke in his head, but he had to silence it. Thinking
about Targaryens was not something he took pleasure in.

He was out in the courtyard, speaking with Ser Rodrik. Robb and Joffrey were just returning from a
ride, and Joffrey looked pretty angry. Truth be told, he was not very happy with his future goodson,
but he too would be King someday.

Nothing of worth that can come out of that line of savages that cannot read, spoke that traitorous
voice that sounded awfully like Ashara’s but he quashed that thought.

A commotion made him turn around to see Joanna trying to run away from Robert. He knew he
had to move, to just distract Robert and let Joanna hide somewhere, but his body froze as his mind
drifted back to a similar scene with her mother in Harrenhall, where Brandon had intervened. Robb
has dismounted and was yelling something, and he knew he should stop his son from doing
something he would regret.

And yet he never got the chance, for Joanna had slashed wildly with her training sword to shake
Robert off and had succeeded in dealing a wound. It was a scene that he had not expected, and
apparently no one else had. Therefore, no one stopped Joanna from tearing the reins from Robb and
riding off. The Kingsguard too were shocked, but he could have sworn he saw appreciation on
Jaime Lannister’s face.

He rushed over to Robert and called for a Maester. The spell was now broken, as people were
yelling and some of the Kingsguard were riding out. He briefly considered sending Jory out as
well, but reconsidered almost immediately. I cannot save her from this, it is better if she is not
found.

Bastard or not, she was raised in a Castle-how long do you think she will last in the wilds, spoke
the treacherous voice that he ignored, as Maester Luwin ran over, examined the wound and
declared that there was no permanent harm.

‘Stick them with the pointy end Ben!’ rang in his mind, a voice from the same place but a different
time.

Lannister found her horse by the White Knife, but no rider. Robert was disappointed that he could
not get his hands on the girl, and Catelyn made little effort to hide her relief that one problem had
faded from her life. He did not want to endure either of their company today, though he knew he
would have to forgive them soon enough.

He instead walked over to Joanna’s room and was unsurprised to find Robb there, looking at a
book. The Conquest of Dorne, by Daeron I Targaryen, Joanna’s favorite and for a moment a chill
rose up his spine. But he steeled himself, and asked Robb if he would join him in the crypts.

They were burning her clothes, around Lyanna’s grave, both watching the flames in silence, neither
speaking their thoughts.

‘Beloved daughter of Lyanna Stark and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was
lived fearlessly, and died amidst blood, her fiery spirit untamed till the end. She was eleven years
old.’

‘Thus ends House Targaryen, for Visenya Targaryen was last of her kind. The line of Aegon the
Conqueror, Jaehaerys I, Aegon Dragonsbane, Daeron II and Aegon V ultimately comes to an end,
an end of the era that defined the Seven Kingdoms.’

Memories drifted across his mind, faster than he could believe possible:

‘Stick them with the pointy end, Ben!’

‘Dragonspawn!’

’Promise me, Ned!’

‘The Prince who was Promised, whose song will be the Song of Ice and Fire’

‘The realm shall bleed again!’

‘You denied the throne to our niece in favor of the man who was fathering bastards while fighting
a rebellion in Lyanna’s name!’

‘Family, Duty, Honor.’

Ashara was right in the end, I would have to sleep in the bed I have made. Joanna is gone, and
Benjen will never forgive me for this. I wish I could have had this knowledge eleven years ago, of
Family, Duty and Honor.

I hope that you will forgive me-Brandon, Father, Lya. I am just as responsible for the destruction
of my family as anyone else. Yet there is no way for me to make amends, Benjen and Joanna are
lost to me, and I must do the best I can for Catelyn and her children, honor be damned.

Robb had begun to yell at him now, and he understood his rationale. Father, Brandon, Lya or
Benjen would have not stood for this under their watch, they would have gutted the King and his
men. But I cannot lose anyone else now.

301 AL, Kings Landing

He wandered inside the store room, right at the bottom of the Red Keep for the first time in three
years. Robert had wanted to burn all of it down but Jon Arryn had stood firm to not destroy all the
legacy of a united realm. He still remembered Jon yelling ‘They were your ancestors too!’ and the
compromise had been to stow the entire Targaryen legacy away. Robert had forgotten all about it,
but Varys hadn’t , this had been one of the first places he had mentioned after he had become
Hand, three years ago, wondering if it was time for these to be destroyed. He had said no, but today
he wished he had said yes.

There had been stories about a silver haired man in the East, and rumors of dragons for four years
now. At first it had been ignored, for the old Valyrian cities in the East often sprouted such stories,
but the fall of Slaver’s Bay had changed things. It was a far graver threat than one would think, but
Lord Tywin had gotten Volantis to act against them. Tywin had been smug about that, saying that
the Volantene Navy could take even the fabled dragons down, from the wisdom of Old Valyria.
They had thought it was dealt with, another Blackfyre threat, dead before arrival and were
preparing for Sansa’s marriage to Joffrey. Except Volantis had been crushed, and their entire fleet
conscripted to the Targaryen cause. The news had reached them from the victors themselves, for
the former Volantene navy had crossed the Narrow Sea and seized Dragonstone, putting the entire
Castle to the sword.

Three for Three, Jon Connington had written, as the ‘Hand of the True Imperator’ and not simply
as the leader of the Golden Company. Stannis Baratheon and his family for Queen Rhaella, Prince
Viserys and Princess Daenerys, cruelly slaughtered in the sack of Dragonstone. This was a
formidable threat, as Dragonstone had never fallen to Blackfyres before and the army of freed
slaves from the East was guaranteed to be threat. To make matters worse, the Braavosi had joined
hands with ‘the breaker of chains’ and were blocking any attempt of aid by Manderlys.

Thank god Robb had left before all this truly began. There was a great risk though, that his ship
had not gotten past the Velaryon blockade of the Blackwater. Many of the Lords of the
Crownslands had shown their true colors at this hour of crisis, and were openly backing the
dragons. The safety of Kings Landing itself was at stake. The Lords on the mainland had not
marshaled troops to attack yet, but the fall of Kings Landing was a foregone conclusion, with
enemies in Dragonstone and Driftmark, and Blackwater sealed. Unless we can hold the siege long
enough for Renly to get here with forces from the Stormlands. Renly had left the night the letter
had arrived, and he was supposed to use Loras Tyrell to get help from the Reach. That is our only
hope, as this Targaryen had an army ten times the size of the Conqueror’s had been for the Field
of Fire. The Golden Company, and the freed slaves from the East, coupled to the might of the
Crownslands. And Dorne. The letter from Doran Martell had arrived today, and it was dated before
the sack of Dragonstone. The only words on that missive was Fire and Blood. The message was
clear, and it severely restricted the abilities of either Renly or the Reach to help, for Dorne could
lay their South to waste should they move too many men North.

The assumption being the Reach will help. Renly may have Loras Tyrell, but Lord Mace will
probably write him off if the alternative is the complete end of his line in another Field of Fire, like
the Gardeners. There have also been far too many loyalists there, waiting all this time for a dragon
to come from the east. ‘A coat of black, a coat of red/ the fire burns the same,’ muttered Ned. The
same Blackfyres that these loyalists had resisted for Daeron II and his line were now going to be
welcomed back, to take the Iron Throne away from Aegon V’s great grandson. If only Robert took
Jon’s advice. Jon Arryn has insisted that disposing of the Targaryen legacy was going to lead to
disaster one day. The dragons united the realm, the stags never did over eight millennia. Your
claim comes from your grandmother Rhaelle, be careful how far you can push that, the Valyrian
mystique that makes people fear the Throne, long past the death of the dragons. Robert had
resisted and the end result was a strange hodgepodge, with the Capital remaining in King’s
Landing, a brother holding Dragonstone, and the Iron Throne remaining where it was, while the
cultural shift was clear to any who looked. Aegon the Unworthy might have been worse, but people
knew he had a Daeron the Good to take over from him. And Robert has ruled longer than Aegon
IV by now and all are aware that Joffrey is no Daeron II.

He looked at the paintings of the old Kings that were stowed away in this room. That why I came
down, to see what those of the past think of us and to seek forgiveness. Stories were abound of how
sorcery was infused into each of this images, right down to Jaehaerys II, Aerys never having gotten
his own. He expected Aegon IV to look happy that his bastard son’s line had come back to rule,
and he was, Aegon IV was depicted laughing in a fashion that would have befitted a madman. But
the contentment on the face of Daeron the Good surprised him, he too wants our defeat. Censure
was clear in the eyes of Aegon V, Maekar, Viserys II and Aegon III, the warrior kings look
harshly down upon us. Aerys I and Jaehaerys II only showed sadness, which did not surprise him,
lovers of peace. The only ones he had his eyes for though, were Jaehaerys I Targaryen and the
Good Queen Alysanne. It was to them he had come, wondering what Jorelle Stark’s children
thought of him, with their songs of Ice and Fire. The coldness in their eyes frightened him, the look
father used to have and their faces only revealed censure.

Kinslayer! , a voice rang in his head, this is the fate that awaits you!

I did not do so willingly! I tried my best, but even he knew had their positions been reversed , had
he been the girl who ran off with a Prince, Lyanna would have threatened to cut Robert’s throat
had he dared act improperly with her niece, and would have actually done it the second time. So
would have Brandon, Benjen or Father. My love for Robert making me blind to the end, I had not
learnt my lesson after all. He had spent three years in south, weaving through Lannister
machinations and politics of the Red Keep, not for the realm but for Robert.

And now the day of Judgement arrives, he thought, looking up to the largest painting, of the
Conqueror and his sister-wives. Rhaenys and Aegon were openly smiling, but it was the smirk on
Visenya’s face that did him in. Visenya Targaryen, First of her Name, the woman who helped
conquer the realm, secured the Vale alone, ruled the Seven Kingdoms alone after Rhaenys died
and chose her nephew over her son. Visenya’s choice still shocked maesters till this day, for she
had been the one to insist on Aenys, the one who led the charges against the Faith from Vhagar,
and finally who saw the Old King to the Throne. This is not the Visenya Targaryen who crowned
Jaehaerys I, this was not a woman in her sixties, but a proud young warrior, with her lips turned up
in a smirk. Does she know that judgment is coming, for what I did with her namesake? He thought
of his own Visenya again, and was struck by the semblance, only that Lya’s girl had not been
blonde. She would have been seventeen now, wed and a mother perhaps, had fate been kinder. The
Sorceress Queen’s smirk was somehow more unbearable than all of the others put together and he
wanted to leave. But he could not-he had come here to receive their judgment, the giants made
unsurpassable by death.

‘My Lord,’ Jory spoke from outside, ‘It seems like a ship from White Harbor has arrived to the
harbor, perhaps the last.’

Robb may be safe, and I must go to check. Though it did not really matter, Fire and Blood was
coming for all of them pretty soon. There was no scope of abandoning Kings Landing, the Gold
Cloaks would do them in the moment such was suggested, and Robert had refused to flee. I should
have sent Catelyn and her children away, but to where? They would not get to Riverunn in time,
and the enemy will find it easier to catch up with them. The only hope was North of the Neck, if
those rumors of dragons proved false. They are not, he sensed, for how else did this Targaryen win
his wars and assemble this great host? King’s Landing would be their funeral pyre, irrespective of
what happened. He had already written to Lord Umber, to take over as regent for Bran, who was
both young and a cripple, so that Bolton did not seize the moment. Bend the knee if there are
dragons and secure the safety of my last sons, irrespective of my fate. Else declare the North free.
Manderly, Mormont, Glover, Karstark, Hornwood, Cerwyn had all gotten the same letters, Robert
thought I was calling for aid. He wasn’t, the forces of the North could not get there in time. If the
Reach helped them and there were no Dragons, they could perhaps win this, but in every other
circumstance, it was a lost cause. Tywin could not do much, the Westerlands did not have too
many men, and all the sellswords he had hired with his gold had perished in Slaver’s bay,
Connington’s letter tauntingly said. Still, Lord Lannister and Lord Tully were trying to assemble a
host, made difficult by Riverlords like Darry who were still loyal to the dragon. The son trying to
avenge his dead father and four dead brothers. They would not get here fast enough, and it all
came down to Renly and the Reach, the Vale having fallen silent for some time, Lysa is scared and
we cannot send men to make contact. And if there were truly dragons, it was all over already.

He was glad for Jaime Lannister’s insistence that all the wildfire be thrown into the Blackwater.
The Imp had suggested using it, and the Queen was interested at first but the Kingslayer went
berserk, yelling about how they were not going to act like Aerys. That had been the final straw for
Robert, who had all of it thrown into water. It was a good thing, else we would all be dead by now.
The dragons needed to light just one dump off, and we would all burn.

But their end was already nigh, the very much real dragons had torn down the city walls and the
Gold Cloaks had defected. Varys had also vanished, taking with him any hope for a secret escape
route. Treacherous slime. They were all holed up in Maegor’s ,waiting for the final blow to come,
hoping that this Targaryen will not turn the Red Keep into a second Harrenhall.

He had made his peace with his fate for quite some time. Robb and his men were ordered to defend
Catelyn and the girls. I wish I had not asked her to come after Robb turned sixteen. But he would
go down defending Robert. I made my bed and now I must sleep on it, no escaping my fate now.
But I will not see the North go further down on account of my follies.

He watched almost dispassionately as the door was brought low by wildfire, and the majority of
defenders slain by crossbow fire. He was unsurprised to see Jon Connington stride in, followed by
the Red Viper of Dorne. No, it was the man with Silver hair that shocked him the most. He had
feared right from the start that Ashara had been working for the Targaryen across the Narrow Sea,
but that could not prepare him for the sight of seeing a replica of Arthur Dayne walk into the room,
clad in Dayne insignia and clutching Dawn. Only those grey eyes proved that the dead were not
walking again, the only features he had bestowed upon his son.

The greatest shock was the woman who walked in last, clad in black armor bearing the Targaryen
insignia. The red dragon, not black-this is not a Blackfyre invasion, but the prodigal daughter
coming home. Never had he entertained any hope of Visenya being alive, and so he was shocked to
see Lyanna’s daughter walk through the door, looking just like the Queen in the painting, brunette
not blonde.

This is it, the end. If he could have expected indifference from the Blackfyre conquerors, he now
needed to steel himself for annihilation. The Rains of Castamere. None of the four were going to
show mercy.

His eyes darted to the corner of the room where Tywin Lannister had laid the bodies of Rhaegar’s
children. His breath caught as he saw two shadowy figures rise up from there, and stand on either
side of Visenya. No, it cannot be, Rhaegar and Elia are dead. But on closer look he could see the
sharp bones in the Dornish woman’s face and the thinness of the frame of the Silver haired man.
Rhaenys , Aegon and Visenya, the dead have come to watch our ruin.

No one else had exhibited any shock, except Robert, Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime. We are the only
ones who can see them, for we are the ones awaiting total ruin.

‘Charge!, ’ yelled Visenya Targaryen and the four marched on to meet their foes. He and the
shades watched her lay Meryn Trant wide open with single stroke of Blackfyre, sorcery cutting
through armor like butter. The other four had not done well either, his son had taken two down
without much apparent effort. He has Arthur’s skill with the blade, which none of the new recruits
can match.

‘Are these all your recruits, Usurper?’ taunted Visenya.

Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime stepped forward now. His son moved on to attack Ser Barristan, while
the Viper took on Ser Jaime. Everyone else were content to stand back and watch these two duels,
neither of which lasted very long. Age had made Barristan slower, and Oberyn was merely playing
Jaime before going for the kill. The road to the Iron Throne was laid wide open.

He stepped forward, the last defender of Robert Baratheon, knowing full well that any of the four
could finish him in moments. Visenya’s eyes narrowed in contempt as she barked her orders:
‘Daeron’

I wonder, does she remember the story of Bael the Bard? Is this why my son must be my
adversary?

‘I warn you, Lord Stark, step aside now. Howland Reed is not here to save you this time,’ spoke
his son.

I know that, I also know my end is nigh, he thought as he moved forwards face his enemy. Yet their
blades had barely met thrice before an armored hand crashed into his helmless face, knocking him
to the ground.

So it ends, he thought but the final blow never came. An armored foot held his body tightly in
place, but he could still turn his neck and see the Throne, as the three heads of the dragon
ascended.

Robert gripped the throne harder, and yelled ‘No Dragonspawn will take this from me!’

‘Or what?,’ spoke the only corporeal head ‘Even an eleven year old girl can cut you with ease and
you expect me to take your threat seriously? In case you did not notice, Im not half as honorable as
my father-Victory is Victory, however it comes.’

Realization finally dawned in Robert’s eyes, as he whispered ‘Lya?’

‘Visenya’ came the response as Blackfyre swung down and the Throne was dyed red with his
friend’s blood.

Visenya Targaryen kicked the corpse down, as she sat on the throne, and leaned back, further than
what he, Ned Stark had ever dared. And, unlike Robert, she rose uncut. The shades of Aegon and
Rhaenys smiled, and bowed before her before holding hands and dissipating, as he watched in
shock.

He remembered Arthur Dayne, on that day, bleeding out on the sand, whispering ‘She is the
Queen,’ till he died. She finally is but what for the rest of us?

He heard Cersei yelling, but the sounds all mixed up together as it all went black.

Ashara’s visit had cleared things up a bit, but he still marveled at the depth and sophistication of
the whole plan. Visenya executed it all.

Rhaegar’s intellect and Lyanna’s fire, a deadly combination if there was ever one. I wonder how
did she find a way to control all three dragons alone. And she has learnt her politics well; it will be
the Rains of Castamere with Lannisters, Baratheons and Tullys.

He understood Ashara’s rage, could feel it himself when she uttered ‘found her starving in the
streets of Braavos. Daeron found her on the verge of selling herself to a sailor’. But it was in the
end his fault, and he wondered what horrors truly awaited them. The sentence to the Tully’s is to
see Catelyn suffer, but what will my punishment be?

‘Learn the difference between a real woman and the dolls of a Septa’, Ashara had spoken. He
wondered if she was comparing Catelyn with herself, or the sweet simple girl who once used to live
in Winterfell with Queen Visenya Targaryen, First of Her Name. Either way we suffer.

Daeron had been the unkindest cut of all, and this was not my complete fault. He could not truly
blame Ashara for finding a new life across the Narrow Sea with Connington, united over grief over
friends lost. But he still had not expected her to mention the children born out of rape in the
Conquest of Dorne by the Young Dragon, and subsequently naming them after Daeron I himself.
Their last conversation had not focused on affairs of the heart, merely of politics and Visenya’s
future. Decades of rage unleashed in one blow.

She thinks she has defeated me now, having seen Rhaegar’s daughter to the Throne. Ashara had
won, there was no doubt-she was not simply the wife of the new Lord Hand or mother to the heir
of Storm’s End, she was one of the most powerful advisors to the Throne itself. But he wondered if
he had truly lost, for he finally felt a measure of peace that had not been present over the last two
decades, despite the grief of losing Robert. I will accept my verdict, be it the wall or anything else,
as long as my family is alive.

I wonder if the old Kings are smiling now, down at the store-room, he thought before turning to
face Robb and explain the whole story to his children and also to Catelyn, who was sitting silently.

305 AL, Winterfell.

It had taken them nearly a year to get back home, for they had been held prisoner in the Keep till
the Great Council to formalize the New Queen’s reign. Ashara had brought information
periodically, and he knew that the Vale and the Reach had bent the knee as soon as hearing about
the fall of King’s Landing, Lysa had been sent to the Silent Sisters for murdering Jon Arryn, Tywin
and Hoster had been killed by their own men after half their army burned in dragonfire and that
Renly had tried to hole up in Storm’s End before it became a second Harrenhall. Over three
thousand men got sent to the Watch by the end of it, including his goodbrother Edmure , the
Blackfish and nearly all Lords of Westerlands and Stormlands. He had also heard how all of
Robert’s bastards had been chopped down- two here in Capital by Connington’s men, the girl in
the Vale by Nestor Royce to secure the Queen’s favor. The Darry’s had ended up with the
Riverlands and the Castle Riverunn itself, a gift in return for the loyalty shown during Robert’s
rebellion, which almost saw the House extinct.Velaryon had been sent West to directly tie the
Westerlands under Crown control.

He remembered the first and last meeting he had with Visenya, the new Quee-no its Imperator
now. She had simply told him that they were being spared only because she did not wish to
destabilize the realm further, and the North needed a Stark. ‘But remember Lord Stark, I also have
a Stark of my own, should it needs be’, was how she finished. Of course, even if Daeron refuses,
Benjen will be too glad to be of use to his niece.

He doubted that Visenya had completely forgotten the family connection though, for Arya had
refused to come North with them. She was going to squire for Daeron Connington, and be a
Knight, having taken a leaf out her cousin’s book. That, he suspected would not have been possible
without the Queen pulling strings, nor the position Bran was offered from the Citadel. He had been
sad to let both his children go, but he knew they would be happier. The Queen will not let any harm
come to them, she loved them once and that affection has not simply vanished.

It was the older people who had more reason to fear the Queen. She had annihilated House Tully,
and Catelyn barely spoke to anyone after returning North. She spent nearly all her time in the Sept,
trying to recover from her families fate, along with the triple blows of Ashara Dayne, Daeron Sand-
Stark-Dayne-Connington and Visenya Targaryen. The Queen’s antipathy for Catelyn had been no
secret (he suspected Ashara had played some part in publicizing it), and there had been no offers of
marriage for Sansa from anyone. He knew a Southron match was unlikely after what happened, but
even Northern Lords hesitated, not daring to provoke the ire of the Queen. She and Sansa did have
a shouting match once, or rather Sansa had yelled at her for a long time, for sending Joffrey to the
Watch and being a false Queen. He had been shocked to see the depth of Cersei’s influence, and
had tried to stop her.Visenya had raised a hand to silence him, and coldly informed Sansa that she
was free to join Cersei in the Silent Sisters should she so wish, or she might join Joffrey and be a
second Danny Flint. Everyone in the room had taken notice, and within weeks the whole realm had
Sansa’s name in the list of things the Queen despised. That automatically ensured that everyone
would make up excuses when he tried to approach them for a betrothal. Even he knew better to try
to make the Queen change her mind, she and Sansa had never been on the best of terms. Arya and
Bran choosing to remain unwed almost a blessing as that left only Rickon, and he hoped the Queen
would calm down by the time Rickon was old enough, or Arya prevail over her.

Robb had been married to Dacey Mormont within days of their return North, Maege Mormont
wanted the betrothal kept before the Queen interfered. Visneya and Robb were not on particularly
good terms, especially considering their earlier closeness. But it was more of awkward distance
between two people who used to know each other than hatred, and that was why alone Maege had
gone ahead with the wedding. They now had a son, Rickard.

And now my eldest is getting married, and I cannot go. Visenya was marrying Daeron, a highly
unconventional marriage where the husband will take the wife’s name. He understood Visenya’s
reasons, Daeron had been fiercely loyal to her, and him being a bastard and not having
dragonblood meant he could never be a threat to her authority. But perhaps that had not been all of
it, it was as if Rhaegar and Lyanna all over again, with their features mixed up.

Catelyn once said ‘your daughter will be Queen nonetheless!’ and now my child is becoming a
 consort to the Throne and yet I cannot go. The invitation had only been tacit politeness, as he knew
he could not go. What is my role there? Lord Paramount of the North? Pardoned traitor? The
Imperator’s Uncle or the Consort’s father?

He had tried to speak to Daeron but had been coldly rebuffed, redirected to ‘my Father, Lord Hand
Connington for official matters’. Robb had gotten the same reaction, and only Arya had been able
to slip through, thanks to Visenya herself. Their children will have my blood, more than Rickard or
my other grandchildren, but we will not be related in any sense.

I can only wish them the best.

325AL, Winterfell.

Prince Aemon Targaryen’s visit was the first time in centuries that royalty had visited Winterfell.
The Prince was exploring the realm he would one day rule and wanted to go see the Wall, where
his namesake had served for seventy years. Aemon was only seventeen, five years younger than
Rickard but there was harshness in him that Ned had rarely seen in young people. He had been
nothing but the most polite, thanking him and Dacey for the hospitality, enquiring after Catelyn
and Sansa and playing cyvasse with Rickard. Yet Aemon was completely cut off from the North, in
a fashion his parents could never be. Ned had to admit, he was afraid of Aemon’s indifference, and
hoped that the North would be in good terms with the Iron Throne when Aemon’s turn came to
rule. There was no shadow that hung over him, the way it had hung over Visenya and Daeron, that
made them threaten and rage but withdraw before actually dealing a mortal blow.

Aemon was skilled no doubt, the realm spoke of his looks, intelligence and skill with the blade.
Perhaps the greatest of all my grandchildren, he thought but he will never acknowledge that, as he
watched the Prince fly off on Skrykos.

Six days later, Lord Eddard Stark was found dead in his bed, laid low by a sudden chill.

Chapter End Notes

Ned's reference frame: Keeps on doing the same thing even after knowing it is wrong ,
from some misguided sense of Honor.

The shades: I wanted an Elia, Rhaegar and Lyanna triad-that would also be Rhaenys,
Aegon and Visenya.

The paintings: Nothing fishy about them, Ned is depressed and sees what he wants to
see. Its his POV after all.
 Joanna I
Chapter Summary

The Rise of Lord Voldemort of Westros. Edition-Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Chapter Notes

Have been absent from the site for quite some time, work tends to do that.
No matter how much I want to close this fic, I keep getting drawn back to it. The story
is done, it is just the perturbations I need to play with. This time we get a POV of
Lyanna’s daughter from the beginning to the end, a story that begins in Snow, but ends
in Fire and Blood.
I will not use fixed years for this fic, merely use Joanna’s age to show the year. She
was born in late 283 AL.
Liberal references to Byzantine history, especially Justinian and Theodora. In real
history Theodora died first, here Justinian goes before her. Basil is Basil II, a rather
infamous individual who evokes both respect and horror, depending on who you are.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

The King’s Visit

Joanna’s earliest memories were not particularly sad ones, and she often wondered where it all
went wrong. Looking back, the farthest she could go was the day Lady Catelyn had introduced
them to the harp. Robb had been absolutely terrible at it, and she still remembered the servants
laughing at their young lord’s flustered face. She had not been too bad then, but her fingers had just
begun to tentatively pluck the strings when their father came in. She still remembered the shock on
his face, and had noticed him gesturing at Lady Catelyn to come outside and talk. Robb had
stopped coming from the next day, as Lady Catelyn said that he needed to learn how to be a lord.
‘But, a little bit of culture never hurts a man, while it is essential for a woman’, she had told her,
‘so don’t think you can run away as well.’

She had not minded, for she liked music and even Maester Luwin said she was good with the harp
and had a good singing voice. Apparently her feminine qualities ran out there, as she proved to be
absolutely terrible at needlework. She was good with arithmetic and languages, at least far better
than Robb, but those were not essential skills for a wife to have. And going riding with her brother
or practicing swordplay with him was sufficient to liquidate any benefits associated with her
musical skills, Lady Catelyn had told her firmly. Yet their father had not asked them to stop, and in
fact had permitted her to train with Ser Rodrik after catching Robb and her sneak out at night. Lady
Catelyn had disapproved and tried to make her do more needlework with Septa Mordane, but even
that venerable woman had given up. ‘My Lady,’ she had told Lady Catelyn, ‘this would be a
complete waste of time for both of us. Perhaps she should further her musical skills and consider a
life in service to the Seven.’ Her father had shot the suggestion down instantaneously, declaring
that it was not a career for a woman of the North.
That got her thinking about the various religions of Westros, and she had spoken with Maester
Luwin about it. It was perhaps a sheer stroke of luck that the Maester had mentioned the Valyrian
Gods, about whom she had heard nothing about. ‘Well, Joanna; I can tell you that that there were
fourteen of them, three of which were called Meraxes, Balerion and Vhagar. But I confess I know
little more about that faith. Perhaps you should look at the older library books, for you know
Valyrian well enough.’ Another thing father disapproved of, she thought, a southron custom that
Lady Catelyn brought in, insisting that children needed to know two tongues. She was far better at
the language than her brother, who honestly saw no advantage in pursuing it. But she was a bastard
and needed every little skill to survive on her own, and not leech off the generosity of the Starks.
There may not have been a female maester, but her skills might lead to some employment
elsewhere. Or so I thought then, not even in Dorne would they willingly hire an educated woman
as anything save as a Septa. The old books left by Jaehaerys I had changed her world, as she read
about the Sunrise Kingdom in the East, with their Dragons and Sorcery. Her Valyrian improved
exponentially over the last two years, as she spent more and more time in the library than the tower
room, swallowing the old texts, dreaming about Justinian and Theodora, imagining herself a part of
Basil’s army in his final conquest of the Rhoynar or sailing across the Narrow Sea with Queen
Nymeria. Maybe I will go east when I am older, there the women can fight with swords and no one
will look twice if I try to become a healer. That was but a vain hope, as she knew well enough. Her
father intended her to marry some Northman and breed children for him. Not the future I wanted,
but such is the fate of all women, even ones as highborn as Lady Catelyn. She at least would not
run away, even though she was a bastard and worth far less than her aunt Lyanna, she would not let
such a shame to fall across her family. But dreaming up in the tower did not hurt, until that one
fateful day when she would have to leave them behind in Winterfell and move to her husband’s
hearth. Even an employment as a singer at a pleasure-house would perhaps be preferable, for then
I can choose my own fate. Wasn’t Theodora one before she met Peter Sabbatius and became
Imperator of Valyria? But this was not Essos, and she was not going to shame her Lord Father and
Lady Catelyn by giving in to the suggestions of all those who had suggested she use her music to
serve men instead of the Seven.

Lady Catelyn probably expects that of me in any case, she thought bitterly, where did it all go
wrong? It had never been bad between the two of them at first, Lady Catelyn had cared for her
more than her distant father or the various disgruntled servants ever had. Sure, she had treated
Robb better, but sons were always more privileged, while Sansa and Arya were only babies who
had needed more attention. Lady Catelyn had seen to it that she got a good education, had looked
after her while the servant girls whispered behind her back, and for the longest person she thought
she could be something other than a bastard to this one person alone, more than her father who put
much effort into avoiding her. She was wrong of course; an elegant Lady like Catelyn Tully kept
all her feelings buried within her head, and not exposed them before the world. I wonder if she even
cared.

The lesson had been sudden, she had been practicing swordplay with Robb and Catelyn had
brought Arya out to watch. To her mother’s obvious chagrin, Arya cheered for her sister over
Robb, though Catelyn Stark hid it well. Joanna had just been about to disarm Robb, when she
heard Catelyn’s voice ring in her ahead, How dare you!. It had been sudden and she dropped her
sword to trun around and face her. Yet no one looked like they heard anything, and they were
looking at her in surprise. She locked eyes with Catelyn and heard know your place, girl; even
though her lips did not move. She had ran from the field and hid in the library for the rest of the
day wondering if she had gone mad. But no, she could now hear thoughts whenever she wanted to,
a fact that made her avoid Catelyn like a plague. She didn’t mean it, maybe I should try to let her
cool down. Except her retreat to the library worsened the situation, the more distance Joanna tried
to put between the two, the greater Catelyn’s contempt grew. She could perhaps forgive a
barbarian a besting her son, but not permit him to be bested in education by the same. She gave up
after a year, and simply resigned herself to avoiding Lady Catelyn and Sansa. That was the
unkindest cut of all, to be hated by my own kin for being able to sing better.

Her becoming a woman a few weeks ago, and the King’s upcoming visit had worsened their
relations. She was genuinely glad Sansa was going to be Queen, she was a better fit for the South
than elsewhere; but the chaos almost made her wish otherwise. Both are worried that I will usurp
Sansa’s place, but have no fear-I would have remained unwed if I could, but if I must, I shall wed
and die in the North. She had suspected for long that it was her much commented similarity in
looks with her late Aunt Lyanna that had prompted such fears, and her Uncle Benjen had confirmed
as much. Her favorite person in the world was a rare visitor to Winterfell, but she eagerly awaited
each his visits, to play The Dance of the Dragons on the harp and show how much better she had
gotten. She could almost bear it all if he was here but he wasn’t. This next month would perhaps
be the greatest ordeal in her life, one that she would have to bear with Robb alone.

I am indeed fortunate that Lord Tywin’s grandson will not glance twice upon one like me, and for
once she was glad to be a bastard.

She might have had figured out how to tackle the Prince, but certainly had not prepared for the
King, whose mind was filthier than all other men in Winterfell put together. I cannot believe
Father is friends with him. Her opinion about her father had decayed rather drastically over the last
few days, although she had to admit that the situation was now beyond salvation.

I have stabbed him, and now I am a traitor to the realm. She was free at last, a freedom that was
both frightening and liberating. She briefly considered going to Uncle Benjen in the Wall, but the
Watch did not accept women, and the Tale of Danny Flint was lesson enough. The Free Cities it
will be , but how to get to White Harbor.

Cross the ford, spoke a voice in her head, the same that had made her draw her blade and strike the
King. And then command the horse to cross again and run along the other bank of the White Knife.

That was the wisest solution, and she did as commanded, and saw Jaime Lannister ride past a few
moments later, focused on the tracks and ignoring the small detour the horse had taken over water
to relieve its passenger. She could now come out of her hiding spot and plan to walk South, You
are lucky it is Summer now, we need to kill whatever animals we can with that small sword of
yours, spoke the voice.

Who are you?, she asked, being familiar with the tales of skinchangers, even though her skill in
managing her horse had proved beyond doubt that she was one too.

Look into the river.

She did and nearly screamed, her reflection had silver hair and grey eyes, quite unlike how she
looked.

I am you and you are me. A twofaced human. She had read about them, including Imperator
Anastasius himself. Two eyes, two minds.

You have to be brave Joanna, spoke the voice. King Daeron was brave enough to conquer Dorne
at fourteen, At eleven, you must get to White Harbor alive, which the soft, castle raised Joanna
Snow cannot do. Therefore, I need to take over.

Do you have a name?

 Visenya.

Chapter End Notes

Kind of crappy isnt it? Lesson learnt-cant do young girl POV.

Anastasius: Real Byzantine Emperor (492-518CE). Had irises of different colors-here

metaphor for having two minds in one body.
 Author's Note

First of her Name is going to be totally revamped, and written about in great details. Some
characters appear, some vanish and some come and go.

The story can be found in http://archiveofourown.org/works/1502489/chapters/3173489

End Notes

Culmination of all my fem! Jon feel, along with Dangerous Women.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!