XXXXVI.

Walking along the pier, where at its end the boat that brought him and his nephew Bran from the Isle of the Gods to the Purple Harbor area had docked, Rhaegar couldn't help but feel a heavy heart and soul after being subjected to the revelations Bran had told him.

Although it was true that he already felt guilty and responsible for everything that happened after the Tourney of Harrenhal, having returned to life fifteen years after the events made him change his feeling of guilt.

Where before he felt guilty for his actions from Harrenhal to the Trident, Rhaegar now felt totally

responsible and guilty for his inaction in the years from the Defiance to the seven-time-cursed Tourney. From his first night back among the living, his son Aegon did not hesitate to point out a long list of errors in the conceptions that Rhaegar had. As the weeks passed, the exiled loyalists on the Wall and his great uncle Aemon did not hesitate to make veiled comments about his actions 'Or rather the absence of them.' in that period in question.

'And in the end it turns out that it didn't matter what I did. Because whatever I did, what I did was what I had to do. I am nothing more than a puppet in the strings of Destiny and Fate, fulfilling what has been written in the Music of the World since the beginning of Time. Do I really love Lya, or is it fate that bewitched us and brought us together so that our relationship would bear the fruit of Aegon? If I had acted differently, would I have avoided the catastrophe looming on the horizon, or would I have simply been returned to the starting box until I did what I was meant to do?'

His head was boiling right now, full of questions. Questions for which in many cases Rhaegar had no answers, or rather, he did not want to have them.

'What my children, Bran, Lyanna and I are? Monsters? Gods? Freaks? Mere disembodied souls, trapped in the fabric of the world and time, condemned to eternally do what fate had in store for us from the beginning and until the end of time? A counterpart in a balance in the Music that composes the fabric of Destiny and Time? The heralds of the end of everything? Or those who bring the end for a new beginning? ...'

"Uncle, what exactly is your bond with Vhagar like?" Bran asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts with Bran's childish voice, cocked head to the right and his turquoise eye expressing curiosity in the look.

Stopping the recursive thoughts racing through his head at the speed of lightning, Rhaegar stopped in place and watched Bran, studying him.

'Does he ask me out of genuine interest, or because he knows that I am self-pitying and self- lamenting for the past?' Rhaegar thought, running his left hand over his chin, while with his right hand clutched his left forearm.

"I agree to tell you, if you explain to me exactly how the Music of Time works and your ability to navigate the threads of its fabric." Rhaegar replied to his nephew, seeking to gain some more information about Bran's powers and to see if Bran's interest was real, or only to bring him out of his melancholy trance.

'Even though he may not realize it, both Aegon and I can tell when Bran tries to get us out of our thoughts. I don't know if it is because of his powers, or because he knows Aegon very well and my son has the same expressions as me, which makes him recognize them in me as well.'

Rhaegar thought to himself, knowing that Bran had rarely wanted to delve into his powers, beyond being a mighty Warg capable of taking control of any being on the planet except dragons and people with great mental strength. Furthermore, the question that Bran had asked was one that except for Rhaegar himself to his son, no one had asked and that Aegon or Rhaenys would not answer unless the questioner had the blood of the Forty. Therefore, Bran would have to exchange a secret of his, in exchange for one of his.

"Deal." Was Bran's dry reply, a look of resignation on Rhaegar's nephew face.

'He certainly has genuine curiosity.' Rhaegar affirmed to himself, as he smiled at Bran and ran his right hand through Bran's tangle of auburn hair. Resuming walking along the pier, followed by Bran, Summer, and at a certain distance, the armed escort that accompanied them carrying the

Banners, Rhaegar told his nephew what he was asking.

"Hmm, it's hard to explain. I discussed this with your aunt and Aegon, and from what I think, it doesn't have much to do with what they do with Winter and Ghost. I do not get to enter his mind, I do not know what he thinks, nor do I really control what he does. But I feel his moods, feelings and desires as my own. For his part, Vhagar is as if he is permanent in my head. Although he never expresses himself as a voice, he is capable of transmitting sensations to me, in reaction to my thoughts. If I rage, as was the case during the misunderstanding with Aegon on the Wall, Vhagar rages if he feels my rage is righteous. If Vhagar rages, I must be able to reign in my rage, knowing that it is Vhagar who is raging and not me."

Rhaegar paused in the explanation, glancing sideways to his left, to see if Bran was still attentive to his explanation and was understanding what he was trying to explain to the best of his ability. His nephew, keeping pace with him, nodded slightly.

"During the time you were beyond the Wall, there were times when I felt ravenous hunger, even after eating. And likewise there were moments when I was saddened and lamenting about what I screwed up in the past, moments that coincided with the fact that Vhagar made a burrow in the side of the King's Tower, curling himself up like a snake, emitting sounds that could be understood as laments. It was then that I really understood what the bond between the two was. Vhagar is an extension of me and I of him, living in a continuous struggle to see who imposes his mood, desires, feelings and willpower. The more time I spend with him, the stronger this bond becomes. Now I can say exactly what Vhagar feels or wants and he can perfectly interpret what I want to do. The latter does not mean that indeed, Vhagar is going to do what I want. Ultimately, he is responsible for his actions and I for mine, although ultimately we both influence them."

Rhaegar concluded his explanation with some doubt in his voice as to whether he had been able to explain himself.

"Indeed, your bond is nothing like to warg. Warging is basically imposing yourself on the being with whom you change your skin. It is to submit the desires, thoughts and willpower in the being where one enters. Maybe with our wolves, being our familiars, if it is a more two-way bond, but with that exception, you cannot change your skin by letting yourself be subjugated by the one in which you enter. That is why it is much easier for me to enter the consciousness of smaller and docile animals. Linking Stormy to one of my threads cost me more than linking a whole flock of crows, for example. And with your explanation I understand now why every time I tried to enter Meraxes I found a kind of wall of fire and pain. Without a doubt, a dragon is not a slave. Something that in the end, to a greater or lesser extent, are all the skins that I tie to my threads. Thanks uncle. Your explanation has helped me to understand a little better my abilities to change skins."

His nephew responded, with an attitude and tone closer to when Bran assumed the mantle of the Raven, than to the childlike attitude with which the exchange had begun. The reddish gleam that began to emerge in Bran's single eye, testified to this even more if that was possible.

"Regarding your question." Bran said before pausing, moment in which a cloak of darkness seemed to embrace Rhaegar's nephew. "To be able to answer you correctly, you must understand what time is. What is the past, present and future, Uncle?"

Bran's cold, piercing voice seemed to echo, despite being a mere whisper barely audible to Rhaegar. The question, something Rhaegar didn't quite understand.

"What do you mean Bran? The past is what happened, the present what is happening and the future what will happen or may happen." he questioned his nephew.

"In order to understand the fabric of time, you must understand that depending on the point of view from which it is viewed, there is no past or future, only present." Bran replied, his voice growing colder and more distant. "For there to be a future, it must be made up of a present and a past. But in the latter case, the past is the present of those who are in the past, making it present. The time is an infinite flow, which cannot be interrupted. It is like a river that flows from its source to its mouth, which is also its source. If the source does not have water, it is impossible that there is flow and therefore that there is time. If the river is interrupted, it will overcome the obstacle to return to its channel, or it will dry up until it re-forms the channel from the source to the mouth. One in a river can be in its upper, middle or lower course, but one is always in the river. Hence, according to the point of view of the one who is in the river, that is, in the flow of time, he is always in the present. That something has not yet taken place does not mean that it has not already happened and that something has happened, it does not mean that it has yet happened. It all depends on the point of view of the one who observes or interacts with the factory of time. That's time, uncle"

"And how does that apply to your powers, Bran? Do you mean that when you bond with the trees, you are not really in the past, but you are in the present?" Rhaegar asked doubtfully in tone to his nephew, trying to better understand the inherent complexity of Bran's powers and something that until now did not seem so complex to Rhaegar himself.

"When I bond with the Weirwoods Trees, it is as if I were in a valley with infinite pools spread throughout the valley in whose waters are reflected images that I cannot identify from afar. Each of these reflections is a moment in the past, which is actually the present. From every pool a kind of invisible thread starts from which I can pull and even anchor it to my consciousness, when I enter the pool and at the moment that this reflects. That is why it is so difficult for me to narrow down the search for what I want to find. There are millions of these pools and like a real pool, the more time I spend in them, the more I risk drowning and of that pool to become my present. In order for me to access those pools, the present in which I am physically must be the one that has been shaped by that past."

Bran paused a little in his speech, at the same time that he paused in his walk. Rhaegar also stopped, turning his head down and to the left, where he could gaze into Bran's red eye that seemed to be piercing him.

"Hence you can't really change the past and avoid things. If I alter the physical past that I am in through the trees, which becomes my present from my point of view at that moment, I would cease to be physically in the present outside of the trees and therefore, I would never make the changes in the first place. To put an example thaht concerns us directly. You and Aunt Lya, no matter what you'd done or whatever happened, would have Aegon for a child. Because without your son there is no past and without him in our past, there would be no present, which is the future of the past. I'm sure you blame yourself for having reawakened the magic of the world or you question to what extent you have free will. Thanks to my powers I know that in the end freedom and free will is an illusion that human beings have created. We are no freer than a slave or a servant, just as we are no more slaves than a king. We are simply what we have to be according to our Destiny and Fate. Each one with our own role and Fate in the Music of the World and of Time. Some, we are Songs within the Music. Others mere isolated sounds hardly noticeable within the Music or even the Songs, but fundamental for its correct execution."

Bran paused to swallow, as his face hardened and his grimace became marbled.

"What is the mere binding of a recipient body, when our souls are imperishable and are tied to Destiny and Fate of Music and its Songs? Everything and nothing would be the right answer. How you want to face this reality is up to you, but I advise you to accept that your past is past and really now you are free from Destiny and Fate. Like Aunt Lyanna, your song has already been played, is

being played, and will be played. Does it mean that your life is yours now and not before? I don't have all the answers, and you and Aunt Lya should reach some of these by yourselves, because I have my own Song to play and an important part of it will be played now."

Rhaegar's nephew concluded, losing his body rigidity and serious expression, as well as the layer of shadows that seemed to envelop him and the red flash on the eye in the now childish face of Bran.

Bran resumed his step toward the destination that awaited them, where at the end of the narrow street through which he and his nephew were now walking, the retinue of Aegon and Rhaenys began to appear.

Knowing that Bran would not speak in the presence of Aegon on some subjects, Rhaegar decided to ask about what he had been able to process from everything that his nephew had just told him.

"Today you have given me a lot to think about, but even so I can't help feeling in a certain way responsible for everything that happened, is happening and what is going to happen. I know that your advice is sincere and accurate, because dwelling in the past and in what has already been done does not usually bring anything good. For this reason, as before in front of the Weirwood, nothing that was spoken between us will come out of my mouth. If the knowledge with which you have cursed or blessed me would weigh less on my soul, I still do not know. But tell me Bran. What do you mean that now an important part of your Song is going to be played? Don't we just go to a spinner so she can do our embroidery and spinning?"

Rhaegar said to Bran in a tone laden with regret and resignation, all the while catching the step with his nephew.

He knew that the spinning mill and the spinner had been personally chosen by Bran, although no one knew for sure what was special about the one that Rhaegar's nephew had chosen that the hundreds of spinners present in The Lost Daughter did not have. At dusk on the fourth day of their stay in the city of the lagoon, Bran, who had been taking a walk with Summer, returned from his walk saying that he had found the one who would be the spinner of house Targaryen and the Freehold of Valyria, whose work would be second to none.

"Nyhelí is not just any spinner, uncle. I'm still not sure, but I am almost convinced that she is a descendant of Aegon. And well, you know that since Lord Brynden's cave I have a kind of magnet towards magical beings. And I think Nyhelí is the being with the most magic in her blood after any of us or the Others. When you know her story and see her work, you will understand what I mean, Uncle." Bran answered in a somewhat strident voice and with some amazement in his tones.

Bran had not finished answering him, when like a gray and silver flash, Summer shot out to meet Ghost and Nymeria who were running between the legs of Aegon, Arya, Lya and Rhaenys.

"Nephew, sometimes I think that someone charge you for giving clear explanations and that you always are without a golden dragon to pay. But I guess like with everything in these last two months, I'm getting used to it. Does Aegon know about this, or is he going to be surprised?" Rhaegar replied to Bran.

"Oh, Aegon and Rhaenys are sure to be in for a big surprise. My own jaw dropped when I saw Nyhelí's tapestry." Bran answered his question, his tone exuberant and expectant at what was to take place next.

"Why does this excite you so much?" he asked his nephew, distilling curiosity in his tone and raised his right eyebrow as he glanced at Bran, still out of hearing range of the family.

"Because if they react the way I think they will, they will realize for themselves of what I have told you before in front of the Weirwood. Sometimes Uncle, you have to put the truth in front of oneself so that it is accepted as truth and not as a crazy idea. Rhaenys and Aegon need to finish accepting who and what they are. And that they can only do if they are aware of themselves. I could tell them the same as I said to you, but how would Aegon react knowing that his Duty, Fate and Mission along the living world is to exist to defeat or be defeated by Death?That history is history because of his actions? That what exists now exists because of him?" Bran made a break, while gazing at Aegon and Rhaenys direction.

"How would Rhaenys react if I told her that if she had not died in the Sack, there would have been no dream of Rhaenys and therefore there would have been no conquest of Westeros and she would never have been born herself?" Asked Bran to him, while cocking the head to the right, gazing Rhaegar with his turquoise eye and opening his arms towards Rhaegar's children.

Without giving Rhaegar time to answer his nephew question, this one answered for him.

"Possibly, at best they wouldn't believe me, alienating them of me since the moment I would told them. In the worst case scenario, they would believe me squarely and see that there are options to end it all now. And the options that exist now to win are a defeat for everyone, therefore I prefer that they not know of its existence."

Bran sentenced as firmly as his voice devoid of magic could muster, inclining his head in the direction in which the family was waiting for them, in a clear gesture that these issues should be put aside, until again uncle and nephew had time alone to discuss them.

Rhaegar, not oblivious to his nephew's ominous attitude, which was not too far removed from his own during any of his visits to Summerhall in the past, nor was he oblivious to riddles and talking about fates and destinies, assumed that the conversation should be postponed and he went to his wife.

"Lya!" Rhaegar said by way of greeting to the mother of his son, as he hugged her around the waist, lifting her almost to his height in the process, and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek. Lya reciprocated the hug by closing her arms around Rhaegar's neck and pulling him closer to her.

"Your mother, Rhaenys, and Arya already know." Lyanna said as greeting to him practically in a whisper in Rhaegar's ear, with a certain excitement in her tone and tightening the hug around his neck.

Surely from the outside, his eyes must have seemed to pop out of his sockets and he had no doubt that his jaw was wide open.

Although Lyanna had confirmed her pregnancy to Rhaegar before leaving to meet the braavosi seven days back, they had both agreed to wait for it to be visually noticeable before releasing the good news.

Lya had some misgivings about how Rhaenys would react to the news and he, he was absolutely terrified waiting for the moment when his daughter would spit all the mistakes of Rhaegar's past in his face.

Rhaenys after the emotional reunion in the former Iron Bank square and her subsequent fainting, she became every day more distant, cutting and colder with respect to him.

'I prefer the blunt and direct forms of Aegon, to this latent and growing tension between the two. I know that I am not without guilt and that it is somewhat selfish, but I want to win back my

daughter's affection.' Mused Rhaegar inwardly.

Thanks 'Or should I say, unfortunately' to past and present experiences, Rhaegar knew that airing out the dirty laundry and the resentment between him and his daughter as soon as possible was better in the medium-long term than leaving the wound to fester until become infected.

"Why did you tell them? I thought we had agreed to wait at least a few more weeks." Rhaegar asked Lyanna in a tone not cold, but doubtful, practically inaudible to both of them, without breaking the posture in which they were both still embracing.

"I had to do it, love. Nausea has played a trick on me again and your mother put together all the pieces of the puzzle that were in view for anyone who knew what to look at. Your daughter has taken it very well, and even she has told me that she does not hold me responsible for anything that happened during Robert's Rebellion and has given me something similar to a blessing regarding our relationship and marriage. In fact,"

Lya paused in what she was saying, looked down towards his chest, revealing some blush and color on her cheeks, although Rhaegar's wife's gaze seemed to have a point of mischief.

"She told me that it hadn't taken us long to get down to business and she asked me about the crown you made for me with my blue winter roses. I think she's even excited about having a new brother or sister and being an older sister. If her attitude towards Arya is indicative of something, it seems like it is something she yearns for." finished saying Lya with an exhilarating smile that was reflected in her valyrian steel eyes.

"Aegon, don't your parents remind you of the two of us during our trip to the Arbor? And as with the two of us, the pretty one in the relationship is the man and the one with good head over the shoulders is the woman." Rhaenys' hissed tones rang humorous, eliciting a giggle from Arya and Rhaegar's own daughter.

When Rhaegar turned his head to the right, he could see that Aegon, Arya, Bran and Rhaenys, along with Jaime and Dale a couple of steps behind them, were looking at Rhaegar and Lyanna with mirth and some tenderness on their faces. Rhaegar's son had Bran in front of him and his hands were resting on Bran's shoulders.

Rhaenys, looked curiously and mischievously in the direction of Rhaegar and his wife still holding each other, while she tried to fix Arya's tiara. Rhaegar's niece was trying to stop the care she was being subjected to by Rhaenys with her left hand, without much intention of actually doing it, looking with a resigned expression and head tilted towards her sister of other blood.

Unlike him or Bran, who were still wearing the clothes they had available when they left Winterfell, it was obvious that his family had gone through the tailor.

Aegon now wore a velvety scarlet robe, under which he wore a cotton black shirt and black wool breeches. For footwear his son continued to wear his under the knee-high black leather riding boots.

The two girls in front of him wore elegants cloths now. A tunic of scarlet and white silk tight to her body with a wide neckline that opened almost to her navel and a black silk choker with a purple amethyst placed in the hollow of her throat in the case of Rhaenys, and a white cotton tunic more demure in terms of cleavage but that was practically translucent in the case of Arya. Lya wore a skyblue silk tunic with silver threads on the sleeves with a neckline not too pronounced but that highlights his wife amply breasts.

Both Arya and Rhaegar's wife wore light gray breeches, pulled up over the tall black riding boots they both wore. In the same way, their tunics were quite baggy, although Arya showed to be uncomfortable with the clothes she was wearing, because with her right hand she kept trying to adjust the chest seams. Rhaenys instead wore a tight scarlet silk hose, with silver threads on the outside of the leg. For footwear, Rhaegar's daughter wore brown leather sandals.

"We weren't so honeyed, were we?" asked with some disbelief and shock Aegon to his sister wife. Rhaegar's son voice sounded somewhat cracked and devoid of the steel and imperiousness inherent to it. Mouth puckered to the right side and arched right eyebrow. Aegon's gesture seemed to convey regret.

'Or maybe it's nostalgia. Sometimes it is very difficult for me to read my son's expressions exactly. ' Rhaegar thought as he watched the scene unfold before him.

Rhaenys stopped fixing Arya's sparse tousled mane and knots with the tiara, to stare back at Aegon.

"No, silly," Rhaenys said softly and melodiously. "We were even worse." Rhaegar's daughter giggled as she covered her mouth with her left hand, much to Aegon's dismay that he seemed to have reacted to a physical blow to his head in face of such answer.

"Ahh Lekia, Those were the times. Before everything became obligations and duties. I can still remember your face when I threatened to burn the High Tower of the Citadel if they did not agree to leave us the books that we wanted. A little more and you almost draw your sword to pierce me with it in the face of such sacrilege in your eyes." Rhaenys concluded cheerfully and chuckling.

"Did you really threaten to burn the Citadel?" Arya asked suddenly in a voice full of admiration and disbelief.

"Of course I did! As long as we didn't have Aegon moping around us, we did everything in our power to indulge our brother's whims. In addition, our sister found a series of scrolls and books that also caught her interest, for which the little gray men faced two quite angry she-dragons, because for their fault we were going to have to stay there until the almighty Dragon could read each of the books he wanted to read. That they were not few." stated Rhaenys nonchalantly, but with some mirth and mock in her hissed melodius tones.

Even if his daughter Rhaenys was, technically at least, twenty-odd days of her name older than Rhaegar, that didn't mean that Rhaenys wasn't his little girl. Hearing her talk about such threats with such triviality about, as well as the fact that she made them for something so unimportant and frivolous, doesn't sat well with him.

'Even if I don't want to, it's still hard for me to differentiate these attitudes of my children from those of my father in his years after the Defiance.'

Possibly because of all the information Bran had dumped on him, Rhaegar momentarily forgot Rhaenys' experience and her seniority over him. Albeit he felt guilty for his inaction during the years before Harrenhal and although he had started to get used to Aegon's mind-sets, Rhaegar couldn't help but think and respond in the same way as he would have previously responded to everything that had happened from Harrenhal to the present day.

And so, probably mistakenly, he let his daughter know and incidentally scold her.

"Rhaenys, isn't it banal to make such threats in the face of such nonsense? What would you and your sister have done if you hadn't gotten away with it? Burn the Citadel and Oldtown?" he uttered

in a cold voice, at the same time that he took Lya off his neck, gently depositing her on the cobblestones of the street.

Rhaegar tried to look reproachfully at Rhaenys, trying to make her show some regret, especially considering that in a short time his daughter had become a role model that Arya followed in some things.

However, he immediately realized the error of his words. The same as Aegon and Lya did. The former physically moved away from Rhaenys who was to Aegon's right. And Lyanna let out a gasp of exhaustion or anger at Rhaegar's attitude.

Lyanna because possibly for being a Stark and from the North and after what she lived in the previous life, together with the influence of Aegon and to some extent, Bran, she had quickly adapted to Aegon's mind set, taking it as her own. Therefore, Lyanna had more than once stressed to him the need to shed the shadow that hung over Rhaegar in the form of the actions of his father and other Targaryen monarchs who had muddied and given the house a bad name. That being swift, ruthless, expeditious and decisive, was not equivalent to having to be a sadist who enjoyed death.

The reaction from his son was also expected. Because when he told him what was happening with Rhaenys, Aegon told Rhaegar that if he gave Nys time to pile up all her fury, once she released it, the possible father-daughter drama would end. In addition, Aegon warned him that Rhaenys had even more reason than he to reproach their father for the inactions he committed during those fateful years where he was still able to act.

It was through his son that Rhaegar learned that Rhaenys had no specific grudge against him for what had happened since his death in the Trident until her death and back to life in the arms of Ser Jaime. Nor did she harbor any grief about his marriage annulment with Elia and his relationship with Lyanna. However, she did harbor certain resentment for allowing it to come to what happened after Rhaegar's own death. Although he did not know it exactly from his daughter, apparently his father, in all his madness, decided to destroy Rhaegar's plans once more, even after he died.

The supposed evacuation to Dragonstone of Elia, the son of Ashara Dayne and Rhaenys along with Rhaegar's mother, Viserys and the ladies-in-waiting of his mother, did not take place as Rhaegar had stipulated. His father Aerys had the mad idea that he had died on the Trident due to the betrayal of the Dornish troops and Prince Lewyn Martell. Therefore, as punishment and a way to ensure Dorne's loyalty to Rhaegar's father, he humiliated in front of the whole court Elia, Rhaegar's heir apparent, as well as Rhaenys first, and then decreed that they were hostages of the crown. Therefore they could not leave the Red Keep, which in turn sealed their fates.

'Without my father alive, none of this would have ever happened. It would not have been necessary the farces, all the mummery, the secrecy and the infinite contingency plans that never were of any use. Harrenhal could have been a Tourney to celebrate the end of the blight that was my father and in the end it became the beginning of the end for myself. Wherever It was by fate or it was by my foolishness and blindness.' Rhaegar thought bitterly, especially seeing the fire in Rhaenys' gaze and in her tense attitude at his scolding.

Fierce and harsh were her words, and filled with anger and pride;

"[Why, O father,]" she cried in high valyrian. "[why should I break my word, even for something frivolous and banal? I am a Dragon, a Targaryen and descent from the forty of Valyria. I do not answer to Gods nor Men and my word is as true as Valyrian steel.]"

Rhaegar's daughter hardened her face and closed her eyes imperceptibly, something he knew was

about to be answered from the skies of The Lost Daughter. The deafening roar of Meraxes high above the lagoon was combined with Rhaenys's dexterous arm extended towards him. The index pointing directly to Rhaegar.

"[Are thee not the one who in a fit of vanity and frivolity, forgot that there was a kingdom ruled by a madman since you entered Harrenhal for that cursed Tourney? Or aren't thee whom nine moons afterwards went on an idyllic journey through the Riverlands, the Reach with a final destination in an isolated tower of Dorne, leaving me and my mother at the mercy of the whims from madness made King?]"

Rhaenys accused him in her hissed High Valyrian, with a cold and reproachful tone, while now she carried her left arm akimbo in her waist and with the right kept her index finger pointing at Rhaegar.

"[According to the son or daughter that Lyanna is waiting for again, like more than fifteen years ago, it seems that thou worry more about pointing out the supposed faults to others, while being unable to do what thou should do. At the time of our trip to Oldtown and the Arbor we weren't even part of Westeros nobility or even there was any Maester or Septon in our island. We hadn't any responsibilities or duty towards the people from the always quarreling Seven Kingdoms. Not to mention that in the first instance we had asked in good faith and courteously for the loan of those books, some of them which as the last ones of Valyria were our rightly property, and all we received was scorn. They ignored and mocked us, believing that we were nothing more than mere tricks and illusions. Fire & Blood is not a mere family motto or a threat, but the essence and heritage of Valyria. Fire and Blood to give life, Fire and Blood to reap death. Fire and Blood to build, Fire and Blood to destroy. Fire flows through our veins, in the same way that blood does. Whom but another one from Valyria can question whom and what we are? Seeing thee, I would not want dwell any longer in the land of the living if my kin is being ashamed of being whom and what he is. Rhaegar Targaryen, thou are descent from the forty of Valyria, however, thee are ashamed from the behaviors of a Dragonlord, which is what thou claim to be nowadays.]"

Aegon tried to stop his sister-wife, tenderly placing his right hand on Rhaenys' left shoulder. However, Rhaenys barely noticed. She cocked her head to her left, directing a knowing look, though not without a certain coldness, at Aegon. After a few moments in which Rhaegar's son and daughter seemed to have a wordless conversation through their gazes, Aegon withdrew his hand from Rhaenys' shoulder. Then he directed a resigned look at him, shrugged and spread his arms as if to say I can't do more, you have to hold this candle, after which Aegon took Arya by the left arm and Bran by the right to stand next to Lya and the King's Guards in the background. Now only Rhaegar and Rhaenys were at the crossroads of the narrow cobbled streets near the spinning mill that was the original destination of this displacement.

"[Daughter, I am not ashamed of who and what I am. But I think that those kinds of threats are excessive and somewhat unjustifiable.]" Rhaegar replied to his daughter with a melodious and warm tone, although not without the steel of his voice and with more vehemence of what he intended, not out of anger at Rhaenys, but because he himself now knew that if Rhaenys and Visenya had brought the threat to fruition, life in Westeros would have been much better in the last three centuries. "[I think you can find an intermediate point between your beliefs, ways of acting and thoughts, with those which today, for one reason or another, rule the world. Not to mention that you run the risk of falling into the throes of tyranny.]"

"[Have thou lost your pride in whom and what thou are? And have thou not descend from the mother Valyria and the line of Kings? And what else have thou not lost beyond your pride, cooped by the false morals from the seven kingdoms and the self imposed guilt ridden from the actions of others?]" came the hissed contra-reply of Rhaenys.

"[In the Lands of the Always Summer once was Light, that Valyria gave to Planetos. But now darkness and cant levels us all. Shall we mourn deedless forever, mist-haunting by our past, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea that it's the world? Or shall we return to our roots? In Valyria sweet ran the waters from the fountains under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about, where a free people might walk without fear. Now, there they lie, dry, still and broken because of the Doom and those whom by folly or greed triggered the Doom, while the world descends into chaos and Darkness. Maybe our own folly was trying to be ready for the Long Night. We forsook our old values in favor of the simple solution, which was to create a perverse Game of falsehood and appearances where we set ourselves up as almighty demigods. And what did it result in? In death. In blood without fire and in the almost extinction of our line. Your blood, Elia's, Aegon's, Lyanna's, my blood and the blood of hundreds of thousands more floods the soil from Westeros. Come away of all of that! Let the cowards and phonies keep playing their Games. We're Dragons, father! And Dragons make their own Game and rules.]"

His daughter sentenced, changing the tension and anger evident until a few moments ago for a conciliatory body language. A tender and loving look towards Rhaegar and her right hand extended for him to pick it up while she exhorted to him in melodious, warm and exuberant voice.

"[Fair shall be the end,]" she cried. "[though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage of the Fate and the Game! But say farewell also to ease! Say farewell to the self imposed weakness from the body and the soul! Say farewell to your past! Better memories still shall we make! When we have conquered and have beaten the Darkness, then we, and we alone, shall be lords of Light, and masters of the bliss and beauty of Planetos.]"

"[I hear thee.]" Rhaegar replied as he took Rhaenys' outstretched hand. "[Tall words those you have said, my daughter. Thou may be right, although perhaps overly ambitious. But I understand what you say to me. And for that I regret my follies and lack of decisive actions when I should have done it. A Dragon must protect its hatchlings and I failed you, allowing to be reached what unfortunately was achieved, by trying to play the Game with the rules of others and not mine. By the Fourteen Flames of Valyria, the Mother Rhoyne and by Ice and Fire this I swear to you my daughter; that I will never disappoint you again and our Family safety will be above all else. Even if this means wield a power that none of us want, but that we need to overcome our war against Darkness. Perhaps, as you have said, it is a folly try to prepare for a fight against Death and Darkness.]"

Rhaegar exhorted, as he pulled his daughter to him for a hug and give her a tender kiss on the forehead. After that he grabbed her shoulders, framing her in front of him as he cried in tones of steel and firmness.

"[Is sorrow foreboded in the road ahead to us? I have no doubts, in our past lives we have saw it. In Westeros we have come from blessed saviors to the woe of the stigmatized and persecuted. The other now we will try: through our sorrows to find joy in the future; or in the present, at the least. For blood our enemies shall reap blood. We are threatened with many evils, and treason not least; but one thing will not be said: that we shall suffer from cowardice, from being cravens or the fear of the cravens. Therefore I say that we will go on as Dragons that we are, and this promise I add: the deeds that we shall do, shall be the matter of the Songs and the Music until the last days of time.]"

"Have you already thought of a name?" asked softly his son as they both walked a couple of steps behind Lya, Rhaenys, Bran and Arya, only Jaime and Dale remaining behind them, who closed the procession.

"Your mother has thought that if is a girl Elaena would be a good name. A way to honor Elia and pay tribute to Elaena, the sister of Baelor and Daeron, who in her days was the owner of the tiara that your mother wears now. If is a boy she has told me that I can choose the name." Rhaegar answered Aegon without raising his tone too much.

"Good taste in the choosing has mother. Nys sure likes it. And if is a boy, are you going to continue the Valyrian tradition of joining the names of both parents, or are you going to innovate?" replied his son with a certain humor in his tones, now devoid of some of the steel and coldness that seemed to always be present in them.

"I had thought of something halfway between the two options. Your mother's name is hard to match with mine. It's not like your case with Aenys, or mine in the match between Rhaella and Aerys. Because if is boy, he will be the first Essos-born Targaryen since Aenar and his family, I had thought in that name. Also, in a certain way, my name and yours are present. " Was Rhaegar's reply to his son.

"Mmm...Aenar the Returned has a good ring to it," mused aloud Aegon, as he ran his left hand through his hair. "I like your choices in names for my future little brother or sister. However, you know that this revelation means that neither you nor mother can come with us when the column headed to Ghoyan Drohe leaves. So...congratulations on your new position as the highest authority in the administration of the Freehold in The Lost Daughter." said Aegon invoking a chuckle in both of them. "Looking at the positive side, it will serve to strengthen our control and dominance over the region and the city."

"Something among the lines of what you just told me, your mother was afraid that it would happen. Being left behind alone again. And that's why I convinced her that whatever happened I would stay

by her side. I hope that my presence with her this time, together with the fact that the situation is less serious, if that can be said, that sixteen years ago, it will make the pregnancy not weigh so much on your mother. In that I have to agree with Rhaenys in what she has told me moments ago. I should have taken some measure to avoid this in the middle of a military campaign across two continents. But... it happened and the truth is that I don't regret it, just as I don't regret you." Rhaegar said rousing.

He didn't know exactly why he was excited and moved by. If it was emotion at how well his son had taken the news. Excitement at having reconciled with Rhaenys, or if not reconciled totally, Rhaegar had managed to build bridges with his daughter after the intense exchange of words, reproaches, promises and bare emotions between them. Or if it was excitement for the new life that created between him and Lya.

'I'm definitely madly in love with her. There is no spell of Fate or Destiny that can make you feel the love that I feel for her and the happiness that she gives my heart with a mere smile from her towards me. The very presence of her has lifted part of the veil of darkness that Bran's revelations had plunged me into.' He thought to inwardly, before giving his son some advice.

"Speaking of parenthood... On the nights we were at my mother's Inn, you could hear everything that was going on... I know it is overstepping and you are a grown up man, but..." Rhaegar spoke but could not finish saying what he intended, as his son interrupted him by putting his left hand on Rhaegar's right shoulder, while they stopped walk.

"Nys doesn't want to know anything about motherhood right now. And to be honest, although I like children and I am excited about the idea of mother being pregnant, I also do not want to know anything about fatherhood at the moment. We have a lot at stake to add such a concern." his son almost whispered as he pointed sideways in Rhaenys direction.

"So ..." Rhaegar began, raising his right eyebrow. "Does being the Dragon Reborn mean to be celibate?" he asked his son with some mirth and irony. "Or you will tell me that my daughter does not seem beautiful enough not to succumb to your basic instincts and you have been cheating on her with another lass these nights ago?"

"Ehm ..." Aegon hesitated. "You don't have to be celibate or cheat on your wife to not have children. You just have to know where not to put it." Aegon concluded embarrassed and with blush on his cheeks.

Faced with such an answer, coupled with the fact that Aegon and Rhaenys were his children, made Rhaegar also blush and rub his right hand uncomfortably in the nape of his neck, trying not to look in the direction of Aegon or Rhaenys.

'Never mind what exactly Aegon means by that. I don't know why, but I'd bet all the gold we have that common nobles don't have these kinds of conversations with their children. Which will surely not be in an incestuous relationship with their sister either. Of course, Bran is right that sometimes, we are not one more among the rest of the world, but we belong to our own world because of our Fate.'

Rhaegar's son seeing his reaction, gave an amused click with his tongue and continued walking to join the rest of the family, something that Rhaegar emulated.

The family was now detained in front of a square masonry and gray bricks house. Two stories high, six rectangular windows distributed between both floors of the facade and a large wooden gate in the center of the wall of the lower facade that gave to the street they were on. Bran stood with his back to the door awaiting the arrival of him and his son, while Arya and Rhaenys talked with Lya

about the same thing that Aegon had asked him.

"... In memory of your mother and the one my tiara wore before me, I thought Elaena would be a good name if it's a girl. If he is a boy, your father wants to call him Aenar, in honor of the Exiled." He overheard his wife as they rejoined the rest of the family.

"Nice touch, Lyanna. I like it. I hope is a girl." Rhaenys paused in what she was saying, unaware that he and Aegon had already caught up with them. Thus, when Aegon grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him, the gasp choked from surprise from Rhaegar's daughter was inevitable.

"Bran, we are all together again. How long is it left to reach that spinner mill that you hold in such high esteem?" Rhaegar's son asked as he rested his chin on the gap between Rhaenys' neck and left shoulder.

Meanwhile, Rhaegar had positioned himself behind Lya's back, holding her with his right arm at her waist to draw her towards him, while his left hand rested on Arya's right shoulder.

"Mmm ... We have already arrived." Bran answered Aegon's question.

"I don't see any spinning mills around here, just houses. In fact, this is an eminently residential area of Purple Harbor. Are you sure it's here?" Rhaenys asked doubtfully in her hissed tones

"Absolutely. That there is no spinning mill, it does not mean that behind this door isn't the best weaver and spinner in the world. If you wait a second next to the door, I will show you." Bran replied with some emotion in his tone, although Rhaegar also noticed some nervousness in his nephew.

"If you say so ..." Aegon muttered loud enough for everyone in the family to hear.

Rhaegar's son abandoned his posture and closeness to Rhaegar's daughter, to face in the direction of Rhaegar's Valonqar and Aegon's uncle.

"Ser Jaime, have the escort secure the block. Dale will stay at the door and you uncle, will accompany us when Bran indicates that we can enter." rang the steel and cold tones of his son, after which Aegon repositioned himself facing Bran.

"You heard me, little brother. Here next to the door we will wait for you. When you tell us, we will enter. I hope that all of this has a good explanation, or that inside this house there is the best damm spinner in this world. Otherwise, you and I are going to have a word or two, Brandon of house Stark." Aegon began warmly, to finish sentencing in his kingly tone.

Bran simply shrugged and stared with his eye at Aegon.

"May I?" asked Bran with some annoyance, which was quickly understood by everyone, moving to the side of the door and Rhaegar's nephew.

When the family found their backs to the wall at the side of the wooden gate, Bran spun on his heel and struck three vehemently strokes at the iron knocker hanging from the gate.

Soon, some children's voices could be heard from inside the house, arguing among themselves. An older voice, but not much more, prevailed over the murmur.

"Who goes?" a feminine voice sounded sweet and warm.

"Bran, your brother Edrahil,'s friend." Rhaegar's nephew replied.

At that moment everyone in the family looked at each other with incomprehension.

'Friend of Edrahil?' he wondered mentally, knowing that the spinner and supposed descendant of Aegon is called Nyhelí.

Rhaegar's son stared at him for a moment, as if he knew his father knew more than the others about what was really hidden behind the gate. Rhaegar shrugged and spread his arms, palms forward.

'Even if I know something, what am I going to tell him? Even I am not able to fully understand Bran's intentions and I am the one who talks about some issues the most.' Rhaegar thought, not letting out a sigh of relief as Aegon stopped casting his inquiring gaze on him.

"Yay!" a child's cry of joy was heard through the wooden gate, returning everyone's attention to Bran.

"Right now I open the bolts Bran. Wait a minute." sounded again the female voice that Rhaegar thought might belong to an adolescent.

"No problem Nyhelí." Bran replied in a somewhat strident tone and in the antipodes of his cold tones of when he assumed the mantle of the Raven. Summer had moved to Bran's left side, leaning on his hindquarters, while Rhaegar's nephew ran his left hand over the direwolf's head. Arya who was in front of him and Lya let out a sigh of surprise at her brother's attitude, while Rhaegar and his wife exchanged questioning glances.

The wailing groan of the gate preceded the movement outwards of the gate, preventing him or any of the family from seeing Bran or who was behind said gate.

"Hello little one!" the feminine and warm voice sounded sweet. "Edrahil, Márië, Vaire, don't assault poor Bran, give him space and let him in."

"Hello Nyhelí!" the unusually fast and excited tones were heard in Bran's voice.

"Edrahil my friend!" Bran's voice sounded with joy again.

"Wow Bran, Summer is bigger than the other day ... No, don't drool all over me Summer! Bad wolf Summer!" the high-pitched voice of a child was heard with joy and amusement in his tones, which were accompanied in the background by giggles undoubtedly belonging to girls.

"Hello Brandon!" said excitedly and with some adoration in the tones the voice of one of those girls who previously was laughing.

"This morning I told them that today you would come Bran, I dreamed it last night. But my sisters and brothers did not believe me. Doesn't what I dream come true?" now sounded the voice of a girl who must be even younger than the previous ones.

"Hi Márië. Hi Vaire." Bran's voice rang out once more. "Not everything you dream has to happen, but if what I believe is true, yours Vaire, like those of your older sister, are dragon-dreams. Dreams like those that Daenys the Dreamer had. Remember what I told you the other day. Trust more in the sensations that you have during the dream, that in what you see in the dream itself."

At that moment all of them began to look at each other, as if trying to understand what they were listening to and what passed in the other side of the open wooden gate that prevented them from contemplating the scene.

Rhaenys had a calculating expression, while Aegon looked shocked at what he just heard.

However, Arya seemed to understand everything, or at least some things, as she had an expression of understanding and knowledge.

So, quietly almost inaudible and bending down a bit to be level with her, Rhaegar questioned his niece.

"You know something, right?"

Arya looked over her right shoulder and up to where he was, gave him a mischievous smile and answered him in a low voice but with some mockery.

"I've been hearing about this Nyhelí for three days Uncle. I think Bran is clouded by her beauty and a tapestry that she had embroidered, or something like that and he has some sort of love for her. You know, Bran lately is not the clearest and most explicit person when it comes to communicating things."

Rhaenys, who was attentive, contributed her grain of salt to the conversation between whispers and low voice.

"I do not rule out that Bran has a penchant for the girl, as showed with his manners, but how do you explain the mention of dragon dreams? Only the pure descendants of the Forty possess this gift, and after Doom, only the Targaryens remain as a pure line. Has Brandon found lost kin of ours? Or is it like Arya says with some of magic in the mix?"

"I think we should wait for him to tell us and then we will know everything. I did not know much about Bran prior to the ritual, but if there is someone who can make him seem more what he is and give him back some childhood, I would welcome them." Lyanna contributed to the discussion.

"I think like mother. For now Bran has been irreproachable in his actions and advice. It is true that he sometimes is excessively cryptic and there are times that I feel sorry for the weight that has fallen on him. But we must trust him. I do not think he has prepared all of this to introduce us to the girl he likes. Surely there are more reasons, apart from that ... Because that tone used with this Nyhelí is worse than the four of us combined in our cloying moments." Aegon sentenced, causing a series of giggles among the family, which were heard by those who were at the entrance of the house behind the wooden gate because immediately there was silence in the conversations they were having between Bran and the mysterious inhabitants from the house to which Rhaegar's nephew had taken them.

"Brandon, have you come with someone else?" asked nervously and with firmness before absent, the voice that Rhaegar identified with the supposed Nyhelí.

"Yes. But don't be scared. They don't come to take away your house, or your spinning wheels, loom, or threads. And calm down Nyhelí, they don't come for your virtue either. They are my family. I promised you that I would help you and I will do it. But you have to allow my family to see your tapestry and you, you have to tell your whole story and that of your family to my family. Trust me." now Bran's voice sounded more similar to the one Rhaegar had gotten used to, than the nervous and somewhat shy tone that he had had until that moment.

'Why would they be afraid of the things that Bran says? And where are the parents of these children?' Rhaegar wondered suddenly, knowing that he would soon get the answers.

"You can get out of there and come here." Bran said in a high and firm tone, within what his normal voice allowed. "Nyhelí, Edrahil, Márië, Vaire, don't be scared of my family. You can trust them." Rhaegar's nephew's voice sounded warm and tender, as Ghost and Nymeria were the first to

go to the other side of the gate, eliciting gasps of surprise.

"More wolves!" the voice of the youngest of the girls sounded astonished and joyfully.

Immediately the wolves were followed by Aegon and Rhaenys, Rhaegar's daughter clinging to the right arm of her husband, Arya a couple of steps beside them.

He reached out his right arm for Lya to hold onto him and gave her one of those smiles that were only for her. Lya stood on tiptoe and placed a chaste kiss on his lips and held onto Rhaegar's arm, for both of them to follow in the wake of the others.

"Dale, stay at the front of the door when it closes. No one enters, no one leaves without my authorization, is that clear?" Rhaegar heard Jaime say to Dale firmly, while still in the wake of Rhaegar and his wife.

When they crossed to the other side of the door, Rhaegar was as stunned as his son and daughter at what their eyes saw.

'No wonder Bran thinks they may be descendants of Aegon. They are almost more Valyrian than us!' he thought to himself, absolutely shocked and jaw dropped.

In front of them, he did not know if it was deliberately, ordered by height, there was a lass, a boy and two girls.

The first starting from the left of Rhaegar, a teenager between ten and four or ten and five days of her name, a little shorter than Rhaegar's mother, with silver hair like the full moon on dark nights. Slender and well-proportioned body, which promised to develop suggestive curves in no time. Full lips and upturned nose. Skin without a blemish. Narrow silver eyebrows and warm violet eyes that seemed ageless.

To the left of the girl who was the greatest exponent of Valyria Rhaegar had ever seen outside of those of his family, a boy a little taller and broader than Bran. Long, straight shoulder-length silver hair that seemed to form a halo around the boy's face. His eyes were cold violet with light blue sparks in the irises. The boy seemed to have a mischievous half smile etched on his face.

To the left of the boy, a girl possibly of Arya's age, wiry and slim, a little shorter than Arya and with features very similar to those of her older sister, but with the typical fat of childhood.

Finally, the youngest who would not have more than seven days of her name. With gold and silver hair and mix matched eyes. Her right was blue as a well of crystal clear water, while her left was of a purple so dark it looked black, much like the eyes of Rhaegar himself or his son.

Rhaegar stopped the appreciation of those in front of him, when a mixture of a hiss and a growl came from Rhaenys' lips.

"Visenya!"

Aegon, for his part, had his eyes fixed on Nyhelí, a gesture of disbelief at what he saw in front of him and his mouth half open.

The reaction of those in front of them was also shocked and incredulous. The boy's mouth was open and his eyes were wide, debating whether to look at Aegon, Rhaenys, or Rhaegar himself. Nyhelí looked at them with a frightened face, lost eyes and her body practically trembled. The youngest had her eyes wide open, staring at Rhaenys as if she were a Goddess who had descended into the world.

However, the copy of Nyhelí in small, Márië her name would be, Rhaegar supposed, recovered quickly from seeing them. Pointing her right arm in their direction, she let out a stifled groan.

"They are here!" she cried out in disbelief. "It really is them. The dreams, the tapestry, the legend that our grandmother and mother told, are real."

"Márië!" Nyhelí exclaimed reproachfully at her sister.

"Bran, can you explain what's going on?" said Lyanna, apparently the only one with wits to try to clarify the situation.

Bran took a couple of steps to stand under the lintel, standing between the two families, then turned on his heel and faced them. Rhaegar's nephew cleared his throat and addressed them in his cold, emotionless voice. His eye oscillating between blood red and Bran's own turquoise.

"This is Nyhelí of Lys and her entire family, except for the twins Amarei and Aethan who I imagine are already sleeping." Rhaegar's nephew paused, turning to his side, while with his left hand he pointed, "She is Nyhelí, the eldest and head of the family. He is Edrahil, the second born and the eldest male. Márië is the third born and Vaire is the fourth born."

Bran drew his left arm against his body and now extending his right in their direction, began to enunciate. "This is my family. My blood cousin, brother by choice, the dragon reborn, lord of Valyria, Aegon Targaryen and his wife the lady of Valyria Rhaenys Targaryen. My uncle Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my aunt Princess Lyanna Targaryen. And she is my sister, Princess Arya of House Stark."

Turning around again, Bran faced Nyhelí and her family.

"I am Prince Brandon of the House Stark, squire and herald of the Lord of Valyria. Forgive me that I did not introduce myself properly the other day. I did not want you to feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed..." Bran said in an exculpatory tone and with certain shame for his actions.

However he was abruptly interrupted by Nyhelí.

"By all the Gods you are a prince and Edrahil and Márië hit you with sticks when they sparred with you. Not only your family is the protagonist of my dreams, but also the lords of this city and you are a prince. Why you didn't tell me when you saw the tapestry?"

"[What tapestry is she talking about and why does she look like an exact replica of my sister? What does she mean by that we are real, just as the dreams are and what is the legend of her family?]"

Rhaenys asked abruptly in her hissed and regal High Valyrian, to no one in particular but Bran and the girl that Rhaegar now found out was identical to the Warrior Queen. And also now he could perfectly understand some of the things that Bran had said to him on the way here.

Rhaegar's nephew was the one who responded to Rhaenys in particular, but Rhaegar had a feeling that he did it for everyone in general.

"It's not my story to tell, and you should be the ones who judge why the uncanny resemblance to Visenya. For the tapestry," Rhaegar's nephew turned to Nyhelí and stared at her. "The best thing would be for them to see it, so they will understand."

Nyhelí stared at Bran thoughtfully for a moment, glancing askance at Aegon, Rhaenys, Lyanna, and himself.

The youngest, she seemed to have less doubts about them. With her little legs she launched herself into a race until she collided with Rhaenys's legs.

"[You have come! You have come! I knew you were a goddess who would come to save us! I have dreamed of you hundreds of times. I have seen you on top of a dragon flying over a desert! Hearing you sing has always reassured me. Isn't right that you have come to rescue us, Valyrian Lady]?"

The little girl said at high speed, in High Valyrian, with a mixture of joy, plea and awe, almost exclaiming the little girl, Vaire. She stared with her mismatched eyes wide open at Rhaenys' face, not letting go of Rhaegar's daughter's legs.

"[Vaire! She is our Queen and Lady, you can't do that!]" Márië exclaimed in horror at the attitude of her younger sister.

Rhaenys, having recovered a little from her shock, looked at Aegon and between them they had one of their conversations with their eyes, after which Rhaenys offered a dazzling smile to the girl clinging to her legs and bending down to pick up the little girl, raised her to her waist.

Vaire took his daughter's gesture as her tacit approval to hug Rhaenys' chest with her little arms and Rhaenys' waist with her legs.

Aegon gazed sweetly at the scene of Rhaegar's daughter with the girl in her arms, gave a warm smile. Then, Rhaegar's son glanced in Nyheli's direction.

"Nyhelí, I'm sure there is an explanation for everything. From what I see, my brother has prepared a surprise for all of us, but I have no doubt that he has a good reason to do so. Would you be so kind as to invite us to your house so we can talk?" Aegon addressed the hostess of the house.

Nyhelí nodded while she said "Your graces and excellences, if you please follow me."

Aegon nodded, seizing the moment to ruffle the hair of the little girl in the arms of Rhaegar's son's sister-wife, who laughed happily. Rhaenys looked at ease and was making funny faces at Vaire.

The boy, Edrahil, seemed very interested in Arya. From whom he did not unpin the gaze, observing with excitement and curiosity the braavosi sword on the right hip of his niece and Arya's she-wolf. His niece was looking curiously at what was happening, but hardly looked upon the boy, for some disappointment of this one.

Before Rhaegar knew it, with Lya still clinging to his right arm and Jaime along the three wolfs always closing the entourage attentive to everything, the seven of his family, plus little Vaire perched on Rhaenys, were walking down a gloomy corridor, following the steps of Nyhelí, Márië and Edrahil.

As he emerged from the dark corridor into an inner courtyard, the light blinded him momentarily. When he regained the ability to see, what he saw left him even more shocked than he expected.

Lya gasped, while his daughter began to mutter unintelligible words, almost dropping Vaire from her arms of the shock. Arya's jaw and her eyes were wide open. And surely, just like Rhaegar himself, unable to process what was before them.

Aegon was completely aghast, body almost trembling, lost gaze staring at the center of the wall opposite the corridor.

"By all the gods!" Jaime exclaimed the moment he reached the patio.

If he had the ability to speak, or express something, Rhaegar would have supported his younger brother's comment. But for the life of his, he couldn't help but stare incredulous at the walls of the rectangular courtyard. There, from floor to ceiling, a continuous tapestry covered three of the four walls.

A thought sprang to Rhaegar's head. 'Now I fully understand what Bran said that you had to see the tapestry to understand it. And now I fully understand the sigil from house Toland. Indeed, time is circular. At least, from the tapestry seems so.'

The first representation woven into the tapestry was the same as the last. Both an exact representation of his wedding to Lyanna. Between the first and the last representation woven on the tapestry, from left to right, the entire history of Planetos, made tapestry.

Or more than the history of Planetos, the history of house Targaryen. Beginning with the birth of Aegon in the Tower of Joy, continuing with the Sack and the death of Rhaegar himself in the Trident, going backwards through history, until Valyria, the Age of the Heroes, the Long Night and The Great Empire of the Dawn. In that order.

Once the fabric representing The Great Empire of the Dawn was reached, it was followed, again by the woven representation of the Tower of Joy, to continue with the Long Night, Age of Heroes, Valyria, the history of the Targaryen house until the scene of the Tower of Joy, but before his wedding with Lyanna again. The which was the end of the tapestry.

If he sharpened his eyes, he could perfectly distinguish who was represented in each of the woven scenes. In more than half of them, people the same or similar to Aegon, Bran, Rhaenys and a woman whom Rhaegar guessed was Visenya by what he knew about her. The woven representation of his wedding with Lyanna, an exact picture of what it was like.

'Contemplating the scene of the Tower of Joy is very different from imagining it through third parties.'

He thought with dejection, resentment, certain hatred towards his brother-in-law, as well as disgust with himself, fate, prophecy and the unfairness of Fate.

Aegon seemed to snap out of his stupor and exclaimed in confusion.

"But it cannot be. History is not like that! How could I have been born before I was born myself? Why does my birth appear three times? I myself have been there and seen myself being born. There was no one else alive but my uncle Eddard Stark, Howland Reed, and Wylla the nurse maid to tell the tale. How do you know about all this?"

Rhaegar's son said as he extended his right hand towards the central tapestry on the wall in front of them, where the fight that took place between Aegon's King's Guard and his maternal uncle could be seen depicted.

"Aegon!" Rhaenys exclaimed visibly affected by what was in front of her. "My Dream! There is also my Dream and my two deaths twice depicted woven into the tapestry!"

The reactions of his son and daughter were not surprising. He didn't even know how to react, what to say or what to honestly think. Woven into the scenes was even Rhaegar's death on the Trident with great detail. For twice represented, to make matters worse. Just as it happened with his wedding or his death, also the Tourney of Harrenhal, the death of Rhaenys in the Sack, the Blackfyre rebellions, the Dance, the Conquest, and practically all the history that occurred, was woven into scenes twice. All of them woven with uncanny resemblance to how it happened or as

Rhaegar imagined happen.

The sound of a throat clearing and movement on their right side seemed to divert the attention of everyone present in that direction.

There, Nyhelí, flanked by her brother and her sister, seemed to look at them with a mixture of disgust, pity, empathy, affection, sympathy and judgment.

In a rhythmic High Valyrian, with harmonics and vibrant tones that seemed to mesmerize Rhaegar and his entire family, she said;

"[I don't know if it's how history happened or not, but I know that we have embroidered it like this, because something prompted us to give it that order. This tapestry has been spun and woven for generations in my family. My mother, my mother's mother, the mother of the mother of my mother and so on until the first of my family, which came from the lands of Westeros to Lys due to a family dispute with her father. In my family, women have always had the gift of having Dreams that gave us the compulsion to weave what we dream of.]"

Nyhelí paused in the explanation, seeing that she had the attention of everyone present, swallowed and continued with her story.

"[My little sister Vaire and I have the gift in this generation. My mother Tindómiel had it too. But fevers after giving birth to Amarie and Aethan took her away from us. My grandmother was the The first in my family to abandon the ancestral family trade, to dedicate herself entirely to being a spinner and weaver. Until my grandmother, the first born of my family always inherited the brothel we had in Lys and ran it, being courtesans of the nobility. My grandmother met a man from the lands of Westeros, the one whom she fell in love with. My grandfather, whom I did not knew or know his name, was a wealthy exiled who invested a little fortune in a spinning mill and small loom for my grandmother in Lys. Although my family left the courtesan job, we somehow established ourselves as Lys nobility. Five years ago, after the birth of Vaire, my father Calion convinced my mother to sell our spinning mill in Lys, come to Braavos and open a large spinning mill and loom to earn great wealth.]"

The girl said with pity in her tones and her gaze downcast, let out a sigh and continued with her tale.

"[However, my mother's death affected my father, who gave up onto life. A few moons after our mother died, father also had fevers and within weeks he died. I was left in charge of my three sisters and two brothers and our spinning mill. Because I had only ten and two days of my name, our regular clientele abandoned us in favor of cheaper and lower quality spinning mills and looms almost all of them owned by the Iron Bank, run by women much older than me.]"

Nyhelí shook her head slightly, then raised her face to show a cloudy look.

"[Soon we began to run out of coin.]" Nyhelí said dryly.

"[As we did not want, nor did we intend, to sell the spinning wheels, the loom or our skeins of thread, I decided to sell the spinning mill and try to work here to make coins. However, it still did not reach us to survive and we were more than once on the verge of begging for bread. Soon the threats came for us to leave the house, but it was all we had as well as with our skills and tools. That is why I decided to return to the ancestral family profession, that of courtesan. For the last nine moons they have been preparing me to sell my virtue to the highest bidder before the end of this year, in exchange for giving me enough coin to feed my family, without having to part with what remains of our family. The tapestry, the spinning wheels, the loom, and the skeins of

threads.]"

Nyhelí ended practically sobbing.

In an unexpected gesture, Lyanna let go of his arm and went for the visibly moved girl and engulfed her in a hug.

Rhaegar understood everything a little better now. Both what Bran had told him in front of the Weirwood, as well as what he had highlighted on the way to Nyhelí's house, as well as Nyhelí's possible kinship with house Targaryen.

Since Aegon and Rhaenys were still trying to process what Nyhelí had said, as well as being exposed to their life woven into tapestry, he became the spokesperson for the family.

"[You are a descendant of Jaehaerys the first of his name. Technically, the granddaughters and grandsons of my daughter and son. That is why you have the dragon dreams. You are our kin, distant, but kin. We will not allow that what you've tell us to be your Fate, Nyhelí.]"

Rhaegar enunciated in a firm, warm voice, trying to reassure the girl and her family.

"[I believe that I speak on behalf of my son and daughter, but I am sure that you are welcome to our court as part of our kin, and if you wish, we will give you all the facilities to carry out your trade. You will be our spinners and weavers. Your loom and your spinning wheel will be at the service of adding new scenes to your tapestry and may you be part of the scenes, not only the narrators of these through representations woven into thread.]