XXVIII.

Flying on a dragon gives you many opportunities to reflect.' Thought inwardly Arya while looking askance at the tapestry that under the mighty dragon of Rhaenys formed the earth. The speed at which her Targaryen sister liked to soar through the skies, coupled with the height at which she

did it today, made it almost impossible to talk with Nys, if not at the top of her voice.

'And yet, it is difficult to understand each other, as well as you run the risk of ending up eating bugs.'

Arya still recalled the lesson learned on her first flight on the Black Dread, clinging to Jon's waist as if her life depended on it.

However, Aeg... 'Jon! His name is Jon! ' had never flown so high with Arya on Balerion. But Bran did once. Arya's younger brother, or whatever Bran was now, had told her in great detail about the night of Bloodraven's cave and the subsequent clash with the Others. And although Arya was often reckless and adventurous, she broke out in cold sweats just imagining what Bran told her.

Fortunately for the two sisters of the Dragon Reborn, the reason for flying high today was not to flee from an enemy from Old Nan's tales.

'Nys flies at this height so that Nymeria does not get overwhelmed by the heat of Meraxes.' Arya acknowledged to herself, knowing about Rhaenys' motivation to fly so high. In this way she was able to counteract the unbearable heat that the dragon expelled. And although Arya was grateful to her sister for thinking in Arya's she-wolf, after almost a full day of flying, Arya's arms and back were beginning to go numb from Nym's weight. She-wolf which rested quietly between her and Nys, hanging from the sling that hung from Arya's neck.

'Without a doubt, this is the last trip of one of our wolves on a dragon.' Arya thought with some sadness, as she looked towards her ever-growing silver she-wolf and saw how fast time was passing.

Almost six moons had already passed since the day of Jon's name-day when everything changed. From one day to the next, Arya's older brother stopped being her older brother to become her cousin. From being a bastard, Jon became a King. From being a Snow, the North made person, Arya's older brother became The Targaryen par excellence. From having nothing, no future beyond being a watcher over the Wall, Arya's favorite brother had come to have the weight of fate on his shoulders.

'And that, without going into blood rituals, various returns to life and impossibilities that are shown as normal occurrences of each day.'

Suddenly, Jon ceased to exist, to make way for Aegon. Arya's new older brother, and her King and Lord.

At first she tried to ignore the changes in her favorite brother. After all, after Jon's name-day, in the early days after the ritual, the changes were more visual than really in dealing with Jon's himself. However, with the arrival of the dragons and the subsequent expedition to the Wall, her brother Ae..Jon became colder, broodier, and busier.

After Arya's older brother's encounter with the Others and the subsequent reunion with the brothers of the Watch, the traces of Jon that still remained on Aegon began to disappear almost completely. Soon their time together was almost entirely devoted to training, studying, or planning.

With the arrival of the Free Folk along with them to Forlond, Arya spent more time with her aunt Lya and uncle Rhaegar than with Jon. Arya's older brother spent endless hours securing his new domain and supervising the construction works in the company of Bran, Ser Jaremy, Mance Rayder and occasionally the elderly Aemon Targaryen.

Despite the estrangement in their relationship, Arya knew that her brother's love for her hadn't changed at all.

'What happens now is that instead of hugging me for hours while I complain about some alleged injustice, he shows his love for me with his actions.' she knew the truth in her thoughts.

'Both in the first, as in the second.' Arya reaffirmed herself.

With his actions, Jon showed that he had not forgotten her or that he had stopped loving her. Arya's brother always considered her opinion in the daily meetings. During the grueling daily routines he would ask her how her day had gone or tell her about his day and the situations that might take place. After training, he worried about how Arya's lessons were going and always took out a couple of hours a day to be all together as a family. Although many times those couple of hours coincided with petitioners, visits to the provisional camp where the Free Folk had been established or to supervision the work carried out during the day, for Arya they were one of the best moments that the stay on the wall had.

In those moments at the Wall, the Jon she knew came out with splendor. Jon's treatment was close with the family and with those who approached them. He did not hesitate to roll up his sleeves and lend a hand to whoever asked him, or to listen to the needs of his citizens. And more than one night they ended up eating sitting on fallen logs around a bonfire, among members of the Free Folk.

'I should never have tasted fermented milk.' Arya remembered with longing and disgust at the same time, the night she got drunk for the first time in her life.

Furthermore, Arya's way of being and that of the Free Folk had blended very well. As with Lya, Arya had been accepted almost from the first moment as warrior women and free, who did not follow the southern conventions.

'Luckily Bran warned me that they considered us Southerners. If don't, instead of being flattered, I would have been offended and staged a little act.' Arya reproached herself for her impulsiveness on certain occasions and facing certain things. Something Lya had told her about several times was the Wolf's blood.

'But then we got to Braavos and everything changed again.' Arya thought with certain bittersweet aftertaste.

Although she had lived experiences that would be sung in the songs for hundreds of years, such as the coronation of her brother as Lord of Valyria after the conquest of Braavos, the stay in The Lost Daughter was in turn a slap of reality in her face. Of what would await her in her role as Princess.

'The title that gives me the freedom that I have always dreamed and craved of, is at the same time the one that ties me to everything that I detest in this world.'

Much to Arya's dismay the presence of the Dragon's sister, the most beautiful woman in existence, the creator of Westeros court protocol and great patron of the arts, seemed to be a constant reminder of Arya's failure in all that was expected of her. Of someone of her name and position.

'Arya Horseface, the one who will never be a proper lady, princess of Westeros and of Valyria.' Arya thought with a certain self-contempt.

In many situations during her stay on The Lost Daughter Arya thought that she was the wrong Stark in the Targaryen entourage. Sansa wouldn't have been out of tune as much as she sometimes did.

But to Arya's surprise, it was precisely Rhaenys Targaryen who instead of laughing at her as Sansa and her friends would have done it, the one who did not give the slightest importance to Arya's lacks in protocol and courtesies. It was Rhaella Targaryen, the image that Arya's mother would have of the correct Great Lady and Queen, the one who at most raised an eyebrow, sighed and then half smiled and shook her head in Arya's direction.

That didn't mean that they both tried to teach Arya and her aunt everything they knew about protocol and courtesies, justifying why it was necessary. And even if Arya understood the motivations, she still found it loathsome. But the presence of both women in her life had helped Arya to win a grandmother and a sister.

A wet afternoon going to the mummers' playhouse to see a play in honor of the new lords of the city, Rhaella stepped aside in the retinue to have a word with her.

Before that moment, all day Arya had been permanently with crossed frown. In the morning after training with Syrio Forel and Dale, taking a walk around the Antaryon palace, a city watchman mistook her for an orphan because of her worn clothes and unkempt appearance, taking her to the Freehold post to enlist her in the army or in the citadel. Only the appearance of uncle Rhaegar, closely followed by Bran and Summer, brought the guards to reason. However the damage was done and she was reprimanded by her aunt for leaving the palace without custody.

On the way to the play her new clothes were weighing her down, clinging to her body and not letting her breathe. That, not to mention of feeling herself half naked. The tiara kept getting tangled in Arya's tangle of hair after her aunt's cut. And she hadn't spoken to Aegon outside of formal conversations in two days. And the bottom line had been that after having a nightmare the night before, she went to Aegon's room. As all her life had do. But when Arya reached the door, she heard some moans that convinced her that it was best to go back to her room and fall asleep hugging Nymeria. Missing the heat and protection of her brother Jon. Missing Robb, Rickon and her father.

In the conversation they had that wet afternoon, the Targaryen matriarch spoke to Arya about the responsibility that fell on Aegon and by extension, on the family. Rhaella spoke starkly of her relationship with the Mad King, of life at court and of the need to understand that duty was above all else. From that moment on, Arya began to look at Rhaella from another perspective and soon began to consider her as the grandmother she never had.

And if duty required her to mature, let go of certain innocence typical of childhood and understand that her brother could no longer be there permanently for her, even if she doesn't like it, she has to accept it.

Since that same duty that fell on her brother and the family, it was the same that allowed Arya to have control over many aspects of her destiny and carry out activities that for common women were unthinkable.

'Being on a dragon is just one of them.' Arya thought, while in the height of the half-cloudy sunset sky over the northwest of Essos.

Only the wind sounded as it passed, along with the rhythmic flapping of the wings of Meraxes, the dragon of the Dragon's sister. Rhaenys Targaryen. And Nys' everything the songs and stories told about her, and more.

At first Arya felt intimidated and to some extent displaced by Jon's blood sister. Which was also Arya's older brother's wife.

Wife. A term that still seemed foreign to Arya in relation it to Jon. But watching her older brother interact with Nys, even if at first she felt a little disgust for the grown-up things they sometimes did, Arya could understand that Rhaenys was good for her brother. She has never seen Jon smile so much, or show as many feelings as he shows in Rhaenys presence. And if it was good for her brother, it was good for Arya. She was not selfish, nor jealous. She wanted the best for Jon, and Arya knew that Nys made him happy.

When Arya reached that kind of inner peace about the Dragon's sister, she sidestepped the sort of internal competition existing between the two of them to see which of the two was better sister, and she set about trying to be better sister of her sister. And thus Arya was able to discover that although Nys was not a warrior queen, like Nymeria or the for the moment unnameable Visenya Targaryen, she was a woman worthy of admiration. As much for her actions in the past, as for those of the present.

As a lady-in-waiting in the queen's entourage, as well as a princess, she spent practically all her time with Rhaenys since her obligations were practically the same. Spending so many hours in each other's company, it was inevitable that sooner or later they would wonder about the brother they had both known and about their lives. Arya was curious to know how the Conqueror had been like as a child. If he was also prone to brooding in the corners of Dragonstone or was more spirited. If he had that big heart that Jon had, always ready to protect Arya from everything and above all. But foremost, Arya wanted details about the battles of the Conquest and the war with Dorne.

'Ultimately, alongside Orys, Nys commanded the Targaryen army during the Last Storm. And she was one of the three-heads of the Dragon in the Field of Fire.'

Rhaenys for her part wasn't so interested in how Jon was like before the ritual, since according to her except in the self-esteem and self-confidence, they were the same person. Arya's sister wanted to know what her brother's childhood had been like before it. And that included telling her certain things, which caused in Arya a slight fear for her father's life and quite a bit for her mother's.

With her mother, their relationship had fallen into an abyss since before leaving Winterfell, but after five months continuously listening to the other side of those affected, it had made her not want to see her mother again in her life, as well as her Tully relatives.

'But I don't get to the point of wanting to see them dead. Which Rhaenys seems very willing to do if given the chance.' Arya thought with certain internal repulse, imagining a castle between rivers being bathed by the white flames spit out by the silver dragon on which she was now mounted.

Yet, Arya could position herself in Rhaenys's skin. The Dragon's sister was possibly, along with uncle's long-lost siblings and Rhaella, those who had suffered the most from the Rebellion. Jon may have been denigrated and to some extent humiliated, but had a stable roof and bed, while lacking of the ongoing fear from Robert's would-be killers.

'Or falling into the hands of slavery, or Dothrakis, or some outlaw band. Or end up being a pillow girl in Lys'. Rhaenys's words from when she told her what she had been forced to live in exile for the past fourteen years, echoed in Arya's head. 'My father, my mother, my step-mother and my brother dead. My paternal uncle and aunt roaming Essos since their earliest childhood, without protection or wealth, being hunted by Robert's hired killers. Myself wandering around Essos, putting in danger by my mere presence to all of those who had decided that it was worth protecting me and those who would await death, just like me, if ever found by Robert. Without a doubt, I would want to kill the last of those guilty of seeing myself in such a situation.'

So, in a way, Arya was grateful that Rhaenys had certain compassion and especially, a lot of respect for the decisions made by Aegon. Her brother had the life of Arya's mother in his hand and

decided to forgive Arya's mother, therefore Nys did not think to act on the issue unless Aegon's opinion changed.

Because if the Dragon, Jon Snow and The Dragon Reborn were alike on something, it was in their stubbornness and resolution. Once he made a decision, this one wouldn't be changed by anything in the world, unless he saw fit the need to change it himself.

Thanks to the advice of Arya's grandmother, the almost constant company of her sister Rhaenys and the understanding of her aunt, Arya began to embrace her new life. In the same way she understood, that her brother Jon had died in the crypts of Winterfell and in his place she had a new brother. Aegon Targaryen.

This one was colder and more distant, but at the same time more effusive in the moments that he was close and affectionate. Aegon was even more prone to melancholy and spent even more time deep in thought than Jon. But when he express himself, he did so with assurance and confidence that had never been present before. Where once Jon seemed to want to protect Arya from everything, now Aegon exposed her to the realities of the world while protecting her from them. Jon's previously demanding training regimen, was now severe and at times almost brutal. Arya lacked of fingers in her hands to count how many purples she had on her body, courtesy of her brother and his blunt sword

'And against me, Aegon's soft.'

Aegon's relentless with his enemies and magnanimous with the subjugated.

But most of all, Aegon seemed to represent the fighting spirit of the people. Never giving up on any task, no matter how impossible it may seem or how bad the odds were against him. For Aegon, there's always a solution, a way, a method with which to overcome the obstacle that presented itself. That one said it was his duty and that was what shaped Arya's new brother.

'The duty to make the impossible possible, being the first to set the example.'

Something that during the march in the column Arya had seen countless times. Her brother was the first in the vanguard and the last in the rear. As if by magic, whenever there was a problem in the column, Aegon appeared. When during the day she and Rhaenys rode alone along the column, many times they could find Aegon with his two shadows helping to change a wheel on a cart with a broken axle. Or pushing the wagons of the luggage that got stuck in the mud. Or giving advice in morning individual workouts before riding out into the open. Or participating in afternoon group workouts. In short, being one more of those who march in the column.

For her part, Arya's sister Rhaenys was also one more of the march. Depending on the day, it was not unusual to see she and Nys followed by Dale and Syrio, descend to the level of the camp followers, to inquire about their needs and well-being. At other times during the evenings, the two would sneak out accompanied by Nymeria and Ghost, to watch the performances of the puppeteers, mummers and bards who enlivened the nights at some bonfires.

It did not matter if the two of them were among whores and washerwomen or among menders and carpenters. And Arya's sister not only attended as a spectator. Many times Arya had sat for hours alongside Rhaenys while she played Essosi songs on her mandolin, to delight of the soldiers and those who followed the march of the column.

It was in those moments that Arya thought how wrong her sister Sansa and her mother were regarding the image of what a Great Lady or a Queen had to be. Try as she might, Arya was unable to conjure a vision in her mind where she could see her mother and sister interacting with common

folk the way Rhaenys Targaryen did.

Of course, Arya immediately remembered the moments when Rhaenys had subdued the various keeps and some villages they had crossed on the way and saw the futility of comparing her with women she knew. Rhaenys, like her brother, weren't people like the others. They had power as few had.

Power by their blood. Power for having died and come back to life, moving through the threads of time in the process. Power to bond with a dragon. Power to change the world the way they want. Power of which they are responsible for the consequences of their actions. Power on which hundreds of thousands of lives depend. Power to end the lives of thousands of people in a few minutes if they wanted to. Therefore it is almost impossible to compare them with anyone.

And as she could and want, Rhaenys Targaryen sneaked out with her to play her mandolin in front of the camp followers.

'It's the power they have to be able to do their duty. Sometimes I don't know if I envy or pity them.'

Arya inwardly thought, now that she knew a little more about life and had lived more experiences.

Despite that, she was glad to be able to call the Targaryens her family. Including the sometimes too crude and scathing Ser Jaime, the black and white shadow of her brother Aegon.

And that was something reciprocal. For not only did Aegon and Rhaegar consider Arya an honorary Targaryen and family in everything but blood.

An example of the extent to which the Dragon's sister considered Arya one of her family, if not her actual sister, was when Arya talked to Nys about her sleeping problems. And how when she had the same problems before had slept in the same bed with Jon when they were children in Winterfell. Rhaenys immediately moved Arya to their rooms and from that day on, Arya went to sleep with the two of them.

'And in this way they can't do gross things either.' Arya thought with some internal rejoicing, as she feared that if Rhaenys got pregnant like Lya, Arya would be very lonely.

'Maybe with this I'm selfish. But neither of them seems to have a problem with it.'

"A ... A !!! ..RYA !!!" Nys's screams brought her out of her reverie.

In front of Arya her sister Rhaenys was looking and pointing with the right hand towards the ground in a northeast direction, while moving up and down her left hand trying to get Arya's attention.

Looking in the direction indicated by Nys, Arya could see almost as far as her eyes could reach, hundreds of low and mid-rise hills. These were crossed by fast and stony streams, with thousands of indentations in their slopes. Some hills seemed to have been subjected to the hammer of a god, being split in the middle.

Continuing her gaze in an easterly direction and at the edge of the dense forests along and at the foot of the chain of hills, funnel-shaped holes dug into the earth seemed to want to venture into the depths of the underworld.

'The slave mines of Norvos, whose wealth could only be surpassed by that found in the hills of Qohor and with that found in the depths of the Fourteen.'

And further east, stuck to a wide river that could not be other than the Noyne, a great quantity of

something that could not be other than farms and strips of cultivated land.

Hugging the river and around which the farms and farmlands seemed to stretch, a massive stone hill stood alone. Hill where Arya could try to discern buildings and palaces at its highest point.

She immediately knew where they were.

'We are flying over the famous Norvos Hills that Maester Lomas Longstrider wrote about. One of the largest mineral deposits in the world. Where supposedly the giants and the first men lived at the dawn of history. And the imposing hill above the river that my eyes see is Norvos.' thought Arya with excitement typical of her age, excited by the adventure she was living.

"WE...VE...IVED!!" Arya answered loudly while she vigorously nodded the head to her sister.

Rhaenys raised the thumb of her left hand, as she brought her right hand to the chain reins of the mount.

With a nod of the head, Arya's sister informed her that they would begin the descent and that it was time to prepare for it. Hence, Arya did it.

She hooked the carabiners to her straps, anchoring Arya to the chains around Meraxes's neck. She hugged Nym to her chest and began to feel the well of nerves in the stomach knowing what was to come next.

'The best thing about flying with Rhaenys is this.'

Arya thought excitedly as the huge silver dragon began its slight curving ascent, before folding its wings and plummeting towards the ground.

While squatting, she gathered twigs and dry grass under the pile of wood for the fire in the center of the cave where they would sleep, Arya told Rhaenys with some amazement and a higher tone than she intended.

"I think I can never finish getting used to flying with you. It's been a while and my legs are still shaking."

"But Arya, what's the point of flying if you don't really fly ? Hahaha!" replied amused the velvety voice of her sister, before letting out a totally vulgar laugh.

Nys was at her back, preparing the clothes that had been lent to them by one of the friends they both made among the camp followers and that they would wear the next day to enter the city of Norvos.

"I don't think birds want to puke every time they land on the ground ..." Arya grumbled under her breath, but was heard by Rhaenys who was soon laughing again.

After the last descent in Meraxes, Arya doubted that Nymeria would want to climb on top of a dragon again even if she could. As soon as she lowered her she-wolf to the ground, she shot off to lose herself in the forest near the foot of the hill that they had chosen as their residence for that night.

'And I sometimes regret encouraging Rhaenys in her bragging about flying.' Arya thought while she finished making the bonfire and glanced at Rhaenys who was now standing next to her.

"Come on! Come on! Don't complain so much. If you know you love it. You told me yourself."Rhaenys apologized with a bright smile and vibrant eyes, as she raised the palms of her hands in surrender.

"Do you think that with that there will be enough for the whole night? It doesn't look like when it gets dark it is very hot in this area." Nys asked her next, while raising the right eyebrow and pointing the right index finger towards the fire that Arya had set up.

Arya almost laughed at Rhaenys's fear of the cold.

'If in the Velvet Hills and here, she feel it is cold, when she step on Barad Suvion, she will has to do it wrapped in a thousand furs.' she thought while she outlined a smile and shook her head to herself.

"There is plenty of it, Nys. Also, the cold you've experienced in Essos so far, could be considered a warm summer evening at my home." Arya replied to her sister, standing up and going to her satchel located in the corner farthest from the entrance to the cave.

"I don't deny that you are right about one thing or the other. But now we aren't in the North and therefore I intend to avoid as much as possible any hint of cold. I associate it with my dream and that is not something I want to think about. And I could imagine that neither are you interested in thinking about that." It was Rhaenys's reply. It produced in her a small internal tremor for the absent and almost scary tone in which Rhaenys referred to the dream by which indirectly, the two of them were in a cave in the hills of Norvos.

Glancing at the frown and the somewhat absent expression that has settled on Nys's alabastrated face , Arya thought it best to try to divert her brother's wife's attention.

While bending down to look in the satchel for the flint with which to light the fire, Arya asked with a serious, half-joking tone, a question that she had since Arya saw her brother do it.

"By chance you won't know how to also light swords on fire, right? It would be very useful now and I would not have to spend a long time trying to light the bonfire with the flint."

"With normal steel no, but if you have some Valyrian steel, I could try to do it. Every descendant of the forty is supposed to be able to do it." was Arya's sister's totally serious reply.

To Arya's own amazement and disbelief.

'Aegon and she speak with a normality of some things that ordinary mortals see as impossible with a seriousness and simplicity that is incredible.'

Thanking her aunt in her mind for leaving Arya the dagger of Visenya, she put aside the search for the flint and quickly rose from her position, standing next to Rhaenys practically instantly.

"This serves you?" she asked innocently and with some defiance, as she raised her left eyebrow and looked at Rhaenys's face while she extended Rhaeny' blood sister's dagger.

"That dagger!" rang Rhaenys' hissed high valyrian while scowling in a way that made her look a lot like her brother and uncle Rhaegar. All three frowned when they felt disgust towards something or someone and didn't know how to hide it.

"I can try," Rhaenys added dryly, "but I can't assure you that it will work. That dagger has drunk too much blood." Nys concluded between her teeth and with coldness rarely present in the Dragon's sister's tone, but which caused a certain respect and fear towards Nys when she used it.

Gripping the dagger in the right hand with almost the same panicked expression as when Rhaenys look at grandma Rhaella's crown, Nys proceeded to do herself a small cut on the thumb of the left hand, for then spread the blood across the sharp, smoking blade.

All of this while Rhaenys let out of her lips an inaudible murmur that from outside Arya could mistake for a prayer.

And so, the dagger in Arya's sister's hands was suddenly engulfed in flames.

"You see it!" Rhaenys said, now exultant.

Although Nys had the dagger the farthest possible from her, as if it were going to infect her from the pale mare, Arya's sister of other blood now wore a triumphant expression. The magical flames enveloping the smoking valyrian steel blade caused the purple in Nys' eyes to seem to glow even more, and Rhaenys' beauty seemed to have increased, if that was possible, thanks to the huge smile she was displaying.

"Grab it. Egg is supposed to think you are accompanying me as a squire, right? Light the fire, my squire." joked Nys, knowing that neither of them had said a single word to their brother about the real plan they had in mind for Norvos, as Nys extended the dagger to Arya's left.

When Arya grabbed the hilt, she was grateful that she continued to use her thick leather riding gloves. The dragon bone on the hilt was overheated like an ember, and if she hadn't had them on, her deft hand would surely have blistered by now.

Trying not to wield the dagger for longer than necessary, Arya bent down and with the best of skill she had, lit the tinder and twigs in such a way that it would allow the large branches they had previously stacked to burn. After that, Arya withdrew the dagger from the fire that was beginning to take shape and tried to put out the flames that embrace the blade.

But no matter how quickly she moved the dagger from side to side, the flame remained unchanged.

"How in the seven hells does this turn off, Nys?" Arya asked with some exasperation to her sister, seeing that there was no way to turn it off and that the hilt was getting hotter and hotter.

"Hmm... as did I just tell you, until now this was just pure theory for me. I know that She and Egg use their own blood to quench the flame. But I don't know if the little that springs from my cut will suffice. The dagger is not Blackfyre or Darksister and they usually cut their entire palm ..." Rhaenys explained, crossing her arms and putting her left thumb to her mouth, while she contemplated with some amusement Arya's futile attempts to put out the burning blade

"Well by trying we don't lose anything. It is supposed to be a fire linked to my blood, so it should not burn me at least."

And without stopping a moment to suck her own left thumb, trying to make it bleed more, Arya's sister concluded while she extended the right hand to grab the dagger.

Finally, after several strokes of Rhaenys' totally bloody thumb, the dagger lost the unnatural flame that enveloped it.

Then they both sat and ate the dried meat they had for dinner in silence. In large part due to exhaustion after a hard day and in part because Rhaenys, like her brother Aegon, appreciated spending time from time to time in silence even in company.

They were about to lie down on the furs they had brought, when Rhaenys made reference to the subject of what would be waiting for them tomorrow.

"We'll be about two hours' walk from the caravan road and about three from the city itself. Do you remember what the plan is?" Rhaenys asked in a muted tone that expressed the weariness, as well as some concern, she had.

Leaning as comfortably as possible on some furs thrown on a dirt and pebble floor, while making room for Rhaenys to position herself next to her, Arya thought again about the plan they devised between them and told her so.

"Yes Nys. We arrive at a caravan and disguise ourselves as a Lyseni bard and his brother. Once in the city, we go to the main market although for some reason we separate. There, we collect information about the rumors that circulate, especially those related to our enterprise in this continent and about the bearded zealots whom rule the city. And from there, we see what to do."

Arya concluded with a small voice, almost asleep already. As she answered her sister, Nys lay down next to her, providing Arya her usual support to sleep.

She could feel Rhaenys' left arm on which she now was leaning move closer to Nys' warm body, positioning Arya in the position she had been sleeping in for almost three moons.

'I don't think I could sleep well anymore if it wasn't on Nys's left shoulder.' Arya thought, as she felt Nys's fingers caress her hair and the back of her neck.

"Sȳz ēdrugon ñuha ziry zokla." was the last thing Arya could hear, see or feel before falling asleep completely, hugging her sister, Rhaenys Targaryen.

Fourth day of the eleventh moon, 297AC. Tavern " The Diamonds", Norvos , Lower City, Essos .

"[What have you learned from our visit to the market, Arry?]" Aelys asked to Arry, in a poor attempt at broken valyrian.

"[That half of the city is mad. Slavery seems to me to be the most normal thing I have seen today. They worship a god whose name they don't even know! Women are shaved in their heads and men have more facial hair than in the rest of the body combined!]" Arry replied to Aelys between whispers of broken valyrian, but sometimes raising the tone too much.

"[Not so high Arry. You know we don't want to attract more attention than required.] " Arry's brother censured, while giving Arry a slight slap on the back of his shaved neck.

["But it's true and you know it, Lys.]" Arry said resignedly and almost between the teeth, letting out a sigh of indignation with his brother, while shrugging the shoulders.

"[Good morning lads. Menu of the day, fifteen copper coins. Roasted onions, dripped in sauce, bread of the day and mead or spiced wine. For twenty-five, chicken instead of the onions.]"*** the innkeeper intruded on the table that they shared.

The tavern in which they now were, was located at the shadow of the powerful walls that led to the highest part of the hill and that divided the city into two levels.

The lower city stretched from where they were, down to a hundred and fifty meters below, at the base of the hill by the river, stretching out along the muddy shore. Lower part of the city defended by moats, ditches, and a moss-covered wooden palisade with wooden gates where no one paid much attention to who was entering or leaving the city.

The river bank was full of docks, brothels and beer halls, but what they would hear there, they had already heard in the market. They were interested in being able to cross the walls that separated the lively, and for Arry's taste, crazy lower city, from the severe and powerful upper city.

It was in the upper part where the council of magistrates from the Theocracy that rule over the city, their relatives and the nobility lived.

That is why they had tried to find a way to access that part of Norvos. However they were returned in the direction they came in each of the doors they tried to access the top of the high hill.

'Top of the high hill where Mellario of Norvos is located and where we will never be able to access being Aelys the Bard of Lys and his brother Arry.' Arya thought with a certain bitter aftertaste that their plan had failed almost before it could begin.

"[We will have the chicken and mead to drink. Here,]" Arry's brother, Aelys, replied briefly to the tavern keeper in Lys's attempt at a broken Valyrian, but didn't even reach bastard valyrian, while he extended the required coins to the portly man.

'I hope it doesn't give the innkeeper to look at the inscriptions on the coins. Nor if he does, he doesn't linger for a long time observing my features.'

Arry feared for a second, remembering who had the face engraved in the copper Suns of the Freehold of Valyria while looking at the man eyeing the newly minted shiny coins with some suspicion. But he settled for biting one coin to check its validity, counted them, and left.

She let out a sigh of relief, which was shared by Nys.

"[They must have had the Raven's face.]" Arry's brother joked conspiratorially, eliciting Arry's

click in response as he smiled to the left where Aelys was seated.

His brother Aelys and Arry sat at a table in the less busy corner of the tavern, at the bottom left, seated at a table that had a direct view of the door. Both were with their backs against a wall and to their left was the counter and the bar of the tavern.

Even now indoors, his brother hadn't taken off his hood during his stay in the city of the Noyne. Under and around the hood, only some of the more distinctive features could be guessed. Such as the silver eyebrows. The dark purple eyes that only showed their true color in the appropriate light. The alabaster skin without an impurity and full lips. As well like a few strands of beaten silver and raven feathers that fell over Arry's brother's forehead in an arc over the left eyebrow.

Although it was not perfect, the use of the black hood diminished the feminine features very evident in Nys despite the haircut. Unlike Arry, who didn't need a hood and even having distinctive features, they were not as striking as in Arry's brother.

'I didn't even need to bandage my chest.'

Arya thought without knowing whether to be grateful for not having matured physically yet, or envious of not looking anything like, nor her aunt Lya of whom the people said she was a copy, although it was impossible for her to see it. And as far from being able to compare herself with the Valyrian goddess that was Nys.

Both of them were dressed in wide tunics of black cloth, somewhat frayed and stained, gathered with a worn leather belt at the waist. They wore greyish baggy breeches and long black knee-high stockings, the two brothers wearing high-top black leather boots without spurs.

Taking advantage of the looseness of their clothing, both wore their black leather riding breeches under their cloth breeches. Under the wide tunics, they wore their sleeveless doublets of scaled black leather and under these, the harnesses of chain mail in steel in triple weave and semicircular rings over their long-sleeved black shirts, rolled up to the cuffs of the tunic that covered them.

'To this must be added the mud and ash stains that we have spread on our clothes, face and hands. In short, if you don't look at it in detail, we look like common men, just as we wanted.'

Now that she was falling, Arry had stared at his brother like a fool for a while, so Arry cleared his throat and made a gesture with the head as for Aelys to tell what was going on in Lys' head.

After looking one way and then the other, Aelys whispered to Arry in his trademark hissed and smooth high valyrian this time.

"[Returning to the subject that occupied us at the beginning. It is clear that beyond the lower city, we will not be able to go, at least without contacts or without uncovering our current charade. I think it would be best to gather more information about the rumors that are circulating, and then go back to where we come from. Spend the night there again and tomorrow leave for Ghoyan Drohe. I do not think that even by finding who we are looking for, we can reach some kind of agreement with the type of zealots that rule this city. You are not misguided in what you think, although you exaggerate a bit.]" Lys told Arry with some resignation, shrugging the shoulders at what Arya had begun to see when she heard from various people what life was like in the city.

'If not with dragons or an army at the gates, Norvos will not submit.' Arya concluded in her mind, as she nodded slightly to what her brother had told her.

Although Arya was not against the use of dragons in this campaign, as uncle might be at first or her father would certainly be if he knew about Aegon's thoughts regarding the fate of Volantis if they gave him the foot, she thought that a city that had something as picturesque as the Nine Bells, regarded as one of the man-made wonders, while brimming with life as lively and picturesque as Norvos was, did not deserve to occupy a place in history books next to the castle ofHarren the Black.

Regarding gathering more information, the rumors that they had heard so far in the visit to the market and the docks, almost all circulated around the militarization of Tyrosh and Myr, of an alleged internal dissension between Elephants and Tigers in Volantis. And especially, there were endless rumors that were crazy, wild and totally unrelated to reality that made reference to the actions carried out by Arya's family.

These rumors ranged from the sinking of the Braavosi lagoon as a reason for there being no sign of this city in moons, to the resurgence of the Freehold from the ashes and depths of the Fourteen to take revenge on all those who had betrayed the blood of the Forty after the Doom. The mention of dragons was common accompanying these rumors, however, few people associated the Targaryen name with the reappearance of these.

"Ploc! Ploc! Ploc!" The platter with the chicken and the bread sounded, as did the jugs when they were placed on the table in a somewhat careless manner by the innkeeper. At first glance, the bread of the day looked like from at least a week ago and the chicken was a far cry from the honey chicken she'd eaten at the feasts in the Lost Daughter, but it was an improvement over the stiff dried meat they had brought as provisions for their trip.

"[Here you have Lads. The chicken and the mead. If you need anything else, give me a voice, my name is Collio.]"*** said the tavern keeper when presenting their food.

At that moment, Arry looked at Aelys, as he stepped on Aelys' right foot under the table and pointed with the gaze at the innkeeper. If there was anyone who could keep up with rumors, it would be this Collio, however unintelligible his broken valyrian was.

Arry's brother frowned slightly, when suddenly understanding flickered in Aelys' dark eyes. Before the innkeeper could turn and retrace his steps behind the bar, Aelys reached for the small bag of coins she carried and produced a silver coin which she handed to Collio.

"[We came in a caravan bound for Qohor and I thought that during our stay in the city, maybe I could earn some coins by playing.]" Interpellated Aelys to the barkeep extending the left hand towards the mandolin at Lys' side that rested against the wall, while with the right hand deposited the silver coin in the palm of the innkeeper. "[What news is circulating around here?]" Aelys asked with the attempt at an imposted broken Valyrian.

"[The patron doesn't want bards playing here, sorry. But surely on the docks you could play in some places. At house Himenai, the whores like to have background songs while they screw them]"*** Vulgarly laughed Collio, hitting amiably the shoulder of Aelys which almost disarms him, bit the coin and with his elbows supported at the end of the table spoke to them again. "[You and your brother are in the bones. Eat while I tell you what is said.]"***

He and his brother exchanged glances and proceeded to grab a chicken leg in their hands, eating them with real gusto, occasionally sprinkling the throat with mead, which compared to that of the Nightswatch was quite an improvement.

With Arry and Aelys giving account of the chicken and the stale bread, the innkeeper began to tell the tales that flew over the city, or at least those that he had heard.

"[More than one client coming from the west in recent weeks has told me of shadows in the sky above the Andal Mountains and the Velvet Hills. I've also been told that those shadows have the Priests' council scared. There are those who say that they are signs of the God. Others say it is a bad omen. That the shadows are dragons of Old Valyria that have risen from the Fourteen to bathe the world in rivers of fire. I think they were clouds, you know. The road from Pentos to here is very boring and all the time the same. People like to imagine things.]"*** told them the innkeeper so high that probably until the last of the patrons of the tavern had heard.

Getting back up from his crouched posture at the table, Collio continued to earn the silver coin that Nys had given him.

"[They also say that two of the Whores are preparing to wage war. Although nobody knows about against whom, If between them or against Lys or against Volantis. And they say that in Volantis the nobles are at the stabs. Something about the Tigers wanting to eliminate the Elephants or something like that. It is also said that a horde of savages (Dothrakis) goes to Pentos to plunder it already for a Khaleesi for the Khal of those savages. Khal Trojo, or Drojo is the leader of that horde. Also nothing is known about Braavos since moons ago. It is as if the lagoon had swallowed it. I'm not sure what to do with all that, but boy, I think you'd be better off exchanging the lute for a sword. As a mercenary you will earn more coin.]"***

Concluded the innkeeper while shrugging the shoulders as a sign that he didn't have more things to tell, at the same time that he pointed to the mandolin that Aelys initially pointed out.

"[There you go. You already know. If you need something, give me a voice.]"*** said goodbye the innkeeper, after which he left them alone with what was left of chicken and their jugs of mead.

Waiting a while until the innkeeper could not hear them and the attention was no longer on them,

they finished eating in silence.

As she took the last bites of the brisket she was eating with the grease-soaked bread, Arry began to take a better look at those present in the tavern, which she hadn't done so far.

At the bar were three men whom, because of their sheathed swords and chain mail, looked like off- duty watch men, enjoying mead and wine in their spare time. The table immediately to their right was empty, and in the gap between the two tables, Arya had placed the satchel with Needle and the supplies on the wall. To defend their selves at that moment, she only carried Visenya's dagger on her.

At the table in the left corner by the door, two men and a woman, who looked like merchants or peddlers in their brown and yellow clothes, were deep in whispered conversation as they ate.

When she looked at the table on the other side of the door, in the dark right-hand corner of the front of the tavern, Arya's breath nearly caught. Leaning reluctantly against the wall, a man and a girl had their eyes completely fixed on Arry and his brother Aelys.

The girl, slim and slender as a willow, with straight black hair in a long braid that hung over her left shoulder. Dark eyes, large and bright, seemed to throw daggers directly towards Arya. The girl's full wine red lips curved into a silky smile that was anything but warm.

The man, for his part, was tall, slim, and graceful. A pale red silk cloak hung from his shoulders and his shirt was armored with overlapping rows of copper discs that glowed like a thousand newly minted copper Suns. His face was lined and saturnine, with slender eyebrows arched over eyes as large as black and shiny, like pools of coal oil. Only a few lines of gray marred the lustrous black hair that fell from his forehead into a widow's peak as pointed as his nose. He seemed to have eyes only for Aelys, whom the man gazed at with a mixture of disbelief, anger and disgust on his face that Arya couldn't understand.

'Unless...' Arya turned her head in the direction of Nys and in a barely audible tone, she said.

"[Nys, on the table in the right corner, next to the door. A man and a girl don't stop looking at us. I think the man recognizes you. From the way he looks and how he looks at you, I would say that he may be a Dornish man...]"

Nys listened to her without losing the composure in any moment and trying to do so covertly, she glanced at where Arya had indicated.

When her sister's eyes made contact with the two people watching them, Nys let out a strangled sigh and her face took on a horrified look for an instant, before recovering the alabaster mask.

Immediately Arya felt how Nys's right hand was clutching Arya's left knee, as if looking for something that would connect her and focus Nys with the surroundings and not lose herself in her other her.

"[We have to go before he fully recognizes me.]" hissed coldly and with some aggressiveness Nys. Arya nodded slightly, leaning over to her right side to reach for her satchel to hang it over the

shoulder.

Nys's ways had agitated Arya, because she knew that for her sister to lose her mask and tranquility

there was reason. And Arya could feel how when she fidgeted, Nymeria was fidgeting too.

Her she-wolf was not too far from the city and was the penultimate defense option they both had.

But unlike Aegon's tenuous control over Ghost, or Bran's powers, Arya barely had a fine thread connecting her most primal emotions to her she-wolf.

'I hope she don't feel like my agitation is because I'm in danger and she shows up here knocking down the door.'

However, the sound of approaching footsteps and the tighter grip of Rhaenys's hand on Arya's left knee caused her to look forward again.

Less than ten paces from their table, the man seemed to slide over the wooden planks of the tavern floor, decidedly in the direction of the table where Arya and Rhaenys were seated. The man conveyed the feeling of an experienced warrior, despite the grace and ease in his posture. The three guards who were drinking at the bar, bowed slightly as he passed, after which they returned to their jugs and pints.

'Who in the seven hells is this Dornish-looking man before whom the Norvosis watchmen bow to?' Arya wondered, knowing that except by putting on a little act, she would soon know the answer to her question.

'If we now run away, we would be in evidence that we are hiding something. Although if we stay ...'

Arya couldn't finish her thoughts, as a dry cough and a light tone prevented her from doing so.

"Does it bother you that I take a seat? Even if I don't live of it, I also consider myself a soul bard and on many occasions, I am my own bard."

Said the dark-haired and dark-skinned man, outlining a smile.

"[We don't understand the common tongue.]"

Rhaenys replied dryly in her male feigned voice and in her attempt at broken Valyrian.

Without being deterred one iota by the icy response of Nys, the man extended his smile and even sat in front of them two rocking the look between the two, but stopping longer about Aelys.

"[In that case let's talk in Valyrian, or whatever you want to call that attempt at broken Valyrian farce that you speak.]" the man spoke with mocking tone, whom seemed delighted to have known himself at that moment, judging by his body expression and smile.

The two of them instead, especially his brother, were maintaining a mask of coldness and neutrality in the reflection of emotions. Though under the table, if it weren't for the riding breeches, Rhaenys's nails would be digging into Arya's skin.

"[We were leaving now. Maybe another time.]"

Said Arry in her best high valyrian, who wasn't much different from the Valyrian bastard spoken in the free cities, in an attempt to get out of the situation in which they had been involved in the least harmful way.

'Before all of this, I would have been the first to try to get into the game. But we promised Aegon that we wouldn't get in trouble. And be cornered in the corner of a Norvos tavern, with only Visenya's dagger to defend ourselves and me wielding it...This is definitely a problem.'

Arya thought, absently picking up one of the satchel's straps to put it over her right shoulder.

"[Oh! I see that you also speak. For a moment I thought you only were just the spirit of a ghost from the past.]"

The man mockingly replied, staring at Arya in a way that gave her chills inside and made her close the left hand over the dragon bone hilt at her hip, under her tunic.

"[But tell me, what hurry are you in? I can invite you to a round. Collio barely know how to speak, but his onions in sauce are delicious. The best there is in Norvos without a doubt. Surely only with the meager chicken you have been left hungry.]"

The man said lightly, pointing with his left hand to the empty dish, while he leaned back on the back of the chair and raised his right foot on the table.

"Plas! Plas!" resounded the claps of the dark-haired man "[ Collio, a ration of onions and a round of mead for my friends and for me.]"

Shouted the man turning his head towards the bar, for then looking at the two of them again, passing his hand by his chin.

"[Sorry for being so rude. I sit here with you, I force you to stay longer in this sad tavern and I haven't even told you my name.]" The man said playfully, which sounded like anything but an apology, as he raised both hands.

Crossing his arms and giving them a dazzling smile, the voice firm and possessing a certain threatening edge, the man in question introduced himself.

"[My name is Oberyn Nymeros Martell. Prince of Dorne and brother-in-law of Mellario of Norvos.]"

Nys let out a stifled groan and her eyes went wide, while Arya's face dropped and she felt paralyzed.

"And I don't know if my eyes are deceiving me or Collio is adding something strange to the mead, but before me, I see two ghosts come to life. Casually posing as persons that they aren't, like the last time I saw them. One passing for a bard, the other for a knight. Their story didn't end well, do you know it?"

Said coldly and with a totally hard face, the one Arya knew was Rhaenys's uncle. The Red Viper

"I don't know what you're talking about, your excellence" Rhaenys tried to answer quickly, while

trying to get up at the same time. But she finished being grabbed by the arm by the Dornish prince.

"Wasn't it that you didn't understand the common tongue? Bastard, I should kill you here and now. My sister Elia and your own sister and my niece, Rhaenys, died for you to be born. And what are you doing? Are you kidnapping the daughter of Robert's best friend, a Stark, who looks just like the whore of your mother? This is the way do you honor the deaths of all those who paid for the infatuation of your naive father?"

Prince Oberyn threatened and humiliated Rhaenys, while approaching dangerously towards her and reaching for a stiletto that was on the Dornishman's waist.

Undoubtedly with the hood and visible features, the dornish prince mistook Rhaenys for the male child of uncle Rhaegar and aunt Lyanna.

Three things happened in that moment;

Rhaenys wriggled out of her uncle's grasp and slapped him with all the strength Arya's sister could muster with her left hand.

Immediately the three men who were undoubtedly escorting Prince Oberyn had drawn their swords and were leaning in their direction.

And the girl with the black hair and braid appeared out of nowhere two steps away from Arya, with a dagger in each of the hands.

Before anyone, or even Arya could react, a knock rumbled against the door, followed by scratches against the wood.

'Nym is here, the charade has already been discovered. May the Gods help us.'

All but her sister were distracted by the noise at the door, so Arya rested her eyes on Rhaenys.

This one was with her thousand meter gaze, absent, but present. Nys' eyes looked like two dark wells of ink, with incandescent purple streaks sticking out. Arya's sister's face reflected a melting pot of emotions and states.

Arya was well aware of the contradictory feelings that Nys had towards her Rhoynar ancestors and the Martell family from her experiences as the Dragon's sister and the way her life ended at that time. On the other hand, Nys had confessed that she distrusted the good intentions of the Martells towards her, and that what her father had told her about her uncle Prince Doran had only increased this distrust.

Oberyn for Rhaenys wasn't like for Arya to meet uncle Benjen.

Nys had had the option of contacting her Martell family all her life, and she never did. The closest Rhaenys thought she would be to her maternal family until return to Westeros was through the first motivation of coming to Norvos, Mellario of Norvos.

Yet they had literally run into Rhaenys's uncle and brother of the ruler of the southern Westerosi kingdom. And with this first interaction with the Martell family, certainly had had to reassure Rhaenys in her previous conceptions.

When Nys noticed Arya's gaze on her, she looked back at her.

Nys' gaze seemed to glow in those moments, where purple sparks seemed to come out of Nys'

sockets.

Arya knew what it meant.

'We will have to improvise.'

She closed her eyes for an instant, trying to connect with the thin thread that linked her to her she- wolf.

'Nym jumps through the window. Through the window!'

When Arya opened her eyes again, a dagger was on her neck, courtesy of the dark-haired girl. Rhaenys was surrounded by a circle of three swords, while Prince Oberyn watched the scene.

"Well, we will take you to my sister-in-law's mansion, where I can ask you questions in a more discreet way..."

"Crash!"

The shattered glass of the window echoed as Nymeria burst through it, landing on the table next to Arya.

At the sudden appearance of her she-wolf, the girl with the dagger at Arya's neck jumped onto her back, dropping the daggers in the process.

The men who threatened Rhaenys also recoiled from the unexpected irruption, so Arya took advantage of the moment to, with all the speed that she had and had developed, put into practice all the teachings she had received to date.

From Ser Jaremy, her brother Aegon, uncle Rhaegar, Ser Jaime, Syrio Forel, and Jaqen H'gar, Arya had learned everything she knew.

During the meeting with the Braavosi, Arya got stuck, unable to do anything or help her family. This time it wasn't going to be like that.

Leaning one leg on the seat of the chair, as she drew Visenya's dagger from behind her tunic with the left hand, Arya leaped forwards and to her left, landing on the table just behind the Dornish prince. To whom she immediately applied the smoking blade to the side of his neck.

"You're not taking us anywhere!" Arya yelled, while Nymeria snarled in the background, showing her fangs at the dark-haired girl and the guards. "My brother is no bastard, my aunt Lyanna is no whore and my sister Rhaenys did not die, she is here...!"

"Arya!" Nys chided her, frowning. But then Arya's sister reached up to her hood to remove it.

Being behind him, resting the dagger on the nape of Oberyn's neck, Arya couldn't see the prince's reaction, but she could hear the stifled sigh of surprise, at the same time that the prince began to tremble like a grass-blade tossed by the wind.

"I had an experience that could be described as death, which totally changed the tone of my skin. However, I am the same person to whom you gave a black cat to play with, whom I named Balerion."

Rhaenys began intoning in her velvety, vibrant voice, with a certain edge to it.

Oberyn, who up to that moment was trembling, had begun to sob and babble something

unintelligible that Arya could understood as Rhaenys.

Nys gave the prince a smile that wasn't at all sincere and didn't reach her eyes, as she moved her

hands up and down.

"Easy, easy, easy, Uncle Oberyn. I don't play with kittens now."

Rhaenys continued, colder now as she spoke.

In that instant, Rhaenys closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the response was a deafening roar from Meraxes which echoed through the tavern, shaking the jugs and broken glass.

Nymeria joined the clamor, letting out a deep howl. As if responding to the call of the silver dragon, which without a doubt, due to the screams that were beginning to be heard coming from the street, was beginning its descent from the heights in which it had been all day.

"Now Uncle, I play with wolves and dragons. And you my prince, you have awakened the Dragon's sister."

*This chapter is one of the ones that loses the most when translated, because I don't know "street" English or the Slang.

In the original version, I used as a resource the uneducated variant of Spanish that would come from some dialects of Andalusia, that even some northern Spaniards find it difficult to understand. It is a very closed Castilian, rich in spelling and pronunciation mistakes, as well as very fast when spoken. Since it is impossible for me to do it in this version, imagine that it is a shattered English similar to Brad Pitt in Snatch.

Disclaimer; It is possible that sometimes the immediate word after a thought [Ex; 'aaaa' b.bb ccc..] stay in italics. Those are my mistakes when it comes to removing the italics. However there are other times [Ex; aaaa bbbb cccc...] in which a word or words can be in italics, either in a conversation or in an internal monologue, where the use of italics is to emphasize the word, since the POV itself emphasize it in the internal thought. In the case of Arya or Bran with their Targaryen "brother and sister", the italics when referring to these is because they themselves in their head highlight/ emphasize those words. Why it is highlighted, is generally given by the context. It can be internal irony, or emphasize a noun / adjective with respect to a person / object/subject by the POV.

Remind everyone that;

"aaaa bbbb cccc." is conversation, generally in common tongue, or the language of which the POV is native speaking

'aaaa bbbb cccc'. is thought

"[aaaa bbbb cccc.]" is conversation in Valyrian