Two letters arrived soon after Rhaenyra's departure.

It had only been three weeks since she took possession of Dragonstone, three weeks where Rhysaenya found herself... oddly at peace. It was not to say that the Velaryon boys had ever caused her any displeasure or frustration, but she noticed at once the difference in the castle, particularly in its most adventurous inhabitants.

The rift between Aegon and Aemond may not have healed completely, but she saw far less teasing in the time after Rhaenyra's boys were no longer around. Aegon now flew alone, as Rhysaenya was fond of keeping Helaena company in the skies. It meant Aemond went at his lessons without anyone to bother him, enabling him the full attention of the Dragonkeepers and the liberty to develop himself as a swordsman without new insecurities growing. Rhysaenya had been keeping to a tight schedule, which also meant avoiding unwanted interactions with the boys. Upon arriving at Tarth, her father had sent a raven with a new regimen for the next several months.

She was to start her mornings in the yard with knights that would help her strengthen herself prior to learning combat. Ser Criston himself was assigning her drills with sparring swords and sacks of flour to enable her arms a greater capacity for wielding a spear. In the early afternoon, she was to keep to her septas and continue her lessons in history, politics, and High Valyrian. She was free for the later afternoon to attend to Skyfall and spend time with her friends. During the evenings, she was assigned to read several books brought to her discreetly by the young new Maester Orwyle, who was under strict instruction to deliver to her volumes chosen by her mother about magic.

What she was expected to gain, she didn't understand. Perhaps the greatest part of it was her dragon. Once she grew comfortable with her, knowing Skyfall was quite simply an oversized puppy, there was nothing stopping her from taking her mount. It was her favorite part of each day, where she could vanish into the sky and feel Skyfall's own excitement alongside hers.

Helaena and Daeron had explained to her what it felt like to have a bond with a dragon. The way they could sense one's emotions, the way they could mirror them or magnify them in themselves. Tessarion was agreeable like Daeron, small and quiet but friendly. Meanwhile, Dreamfyre's personality currently mirrored Helaena's, though she'd been ridden by King Jaehaerys's older sister Rhaena in the past. Hatched when the Conqueror was King, Dreamfyre was getting older and seemed to prefer keeping her peace, same as Helaena.

Rhysaenya wasn't sure she could say that Skyfall had the same personality as her. The dragon was far happier, ever carefree where Rhysaenya was not. Daeron's theory was that Skyfall had never been claimed before, and had developed her own self without a bond. She would start to change now that she had bonded to Rhysaenya– she would've already been like her had the egg hatched in her cradle as Tessarion did for him, but alas, Skyfall was a wild dragon. It was for Rhysaenya to tame her.

And for Skyfall to tame me, it would seem, she thought to herself as they flew. She had her palms bare against Skyfall's scales, feeling her warmth. It was soothing to be atop her, to feel the heat radiating from her and to listen to her little trills. These days, Skyfall was a great comfort, someone she could look forward to spending time with. The dragon did not judge her. She was always so happy to see her, and that was more than Rhysaenya could say for a lot of people in her life.

When they'd returned to the castle that day, Queen Alicent had brought her aside to deliver the news that came with the ravens of that morning. The first raven told them of the death of Lady Laena Velaryon in Pentos. Her funeral would be held at Driftmark as soon as all invited parties arrived. Rhysaenya had thought the Queen was telling her this because she was going to be expected to attend, but instead, she told her that she would not be going with them. Rhysaenya thought she had done something wrong, that she was being excluded because the Queen disliked her. But the second raven had assuaged those sorts of fears. They brought about new ones, of course.

Only she knew how to read between the lines in the letter, telling her everything her parents wished to say but couldn't on parchment. Her mother had written quite simply that it was time for her to return to the Phoenixfort to be raised with her family. She was old enough to grow as a lady away from court, she said. The Phoenixfort was her true home, and she was to come at once.

But she knew what it really meant. One, it was time for them to turn her into a killer as the rest of them were. Her mother always donned those pretty dresses, but none would forget that Rhaelyn Ignividus was dangerous when handed any blade. Old enough to grow as a lady meant learning more about this magic her mother always spoke of, the herbs and remedies and potions all pointing towards health and... fertility. They were going to prepare her to be Queen, to be the woman that Aegon would sire heirs on to back his claim. True home... no, it was not, but she knew that her mother needed her hereand not at Driftmark where she might come across Daemon or Moyric.

What she did not fully understand was her removal from court. How were her parents expecting her to befriend the King's sons properly if she wasn't going to be there beside them? Was it all a test? Had the marriage proposal not been made or accepted? Were they needing to work harder on her presentation before offering it? They had left so quickly after Ser Harwin and Ser Criston's brawl, perhaps it was a reminder to them that she was a bastard, and everything possible had to be done to make her as desirable as possible for Aegon regardless of her true nature. Queen Alicent may not know she was Daemon's daughter, but everyone knew that Rhaelyn was a bastard... and though they said naught about it, perhaps it made Rhysaenya a less suitable candidate as a grand-bastard of Viserra.

The first day, she'd been distraught. It meant leaving Helaena and Daeron, it meant flying on Skyfall alone. Both siblings had been upset when they learned she was leaving. It was like to be the last she would see Daeron in a very long time, for he would leave for Oldtown well before she returned– that could not happen until she was a woman, surely. To him, she promised to send books. For Helaena, bugs she may find in Tarth that were unlike those here.

"You're leaving," said Aemond, the last day she was in the castle. She wished she'd been willing to speak with him at length sooner. He might've been as good a friend as Helaena.

"I am," said Rhysaenya, already on her way to the gates, a carriage waiting to take her to the docks. "I wish I did not have to go. I did not get to take you to Dragonstone."

"It's alright," said Aemond, walking with her. "I'll be in Driftmark soon. I wish to claim Vhagar."

"Lady Laena's dragon? Won't her daughter Rhaena want to claim her?"

"If she's claimed her, then she's claimed her. If she hasn't, Vhagar is mine. The next time we see each other, we'll both have dragons."

"I should hope so," said Rhysaenya, half-smiling. "Perhaps then I'll be able to practice sparring with you. You'll probably be loads better, but you could help me improve in sword once I master the spear."

Aemond seemed doubtful, though not in the way she initially assumed. "You'll be studying the techniques of a house famous for their warriors. They have more fighting men on Tarth than even the largest individual House on the mainland, none of whom can fight as well as your family does. I think you may find yourself the one helping me."

It was nice to hear someone believing she'd make something of herself during this time away. Yes, that was what she hoped for. That, despite every confusing element of her parents' plan, she'd find something for herself in there. A reputation, confidence, a way to be happy. If everything went sideways, she could run away with Skyfall and remain protected no matter where she went. If she took Helaena with her, she could keep Helaena safe, too.

"Thank you, Aemond," said Rhysaenya, coming to a stop at the main door. "I wish you luck in claiming your dragon. You were always kind to me, I will not forget that."

"There was never a reason to be unkind," said Aemond. He hesitated, then added, "I hope to see you again soon. I'd wish to be allowed to go and see the Phoenixfort but... I doubt I will be permitted to travel there."

"One day, perhaps," she encouraged. "When you have Vhagar. No one can stop you from flying there. You can visit me and we can fly together."

"I'd like that very much," said Aemond, tucking his hands behind his back. "Goodbye, Rhysaenya."

"Goodbye, Aemond," she said, lifting her skirt and making for the carriage. Ser Criston himself opened the door, tasked with ensuring her safe transport onto the ship. She waved once more at Aemond before entering the carriage, though she poked her head out to watch him leave, holding the hilt of his sword, his walk still a bit crooked as he got used to the weight of it. She admired how hard he worked for what he wanted, even if it worried her at times.

She thought of Aegon as the carriage bumped its way to the docks. Why hadn't he wanted to say goodbye? Helaena had been on the verge of tears and had remained with Rhysaenya up to the point where she made for the main wing of the castle, a place Helaena liked to avoid. Aemond had found her to say something, the Queen, the King, and Daeron wished her a safe journey at breakfast.

Where had Aegon been? Why did she wish she'd seen him one last time? Perhaps he thought she would hit him again for good measure, to sustain her until she returned from the Phoenixfort. She wondered if he knew or suspected something about a marriage, if he kept his distance because of that. She thought of how he'd made her laugh at dinner and wondered if maybe, they were more alike than she'd ever considered. Could they both be pawns for their family to move around a game board as they pleased?

She wondered what Aegon and Aemond would be like when she returned to live in King's Landing. She did not know how long it would be, but perhaps nearly a decade. That was a lot of time to change. Would they be strange? Funny? Cruel? Indifferent? Kind? She wasn't sure how she'd even describe Aegon now, other than curiosity-inducing. Aemond was already thoughtful yet still driven to a point where insanity was plausible. Those were not at all appropriate ways to describe any person, much less Princes, yet she still had it swimming in her mind because for a moment, she regretted not knowing them more.

It made her toy further with the idea that this had been a test. Maybe the marriage would be decided based on who she had a greater rapport with. Maybe her parents had been monitoring her response since they told her the truth and were using Rhysaenya as a judge of character for both Princes to see who they'd throw their full force behind as heir. Perhaps her parents had wanted to evaluate whether she'd listen to them regardless of how harshly they'd spoken. Regardless of dragons, reputations, and weapons.

Rhysaenya questioned if something was wrong with her for not showing resistance, for being even the slightest bit curious about this. She didn't like her parents and didn't want to do things to please them, but they were widening a path that wasn't entirely detrimental to her. Through their plan, she got a dragon, a spear, and the opportunity to stay forever in the castle she grew up with alongside Helaena, who she knew Queen Alicent would never let leave even if the opportunity arose to marry Helaena off to some lord for their benefit.

She did still feel that most of her life wasn't in control, but it got her thinking of her family's history. All the Ignividosi women who died in childbirth because of this curse, not even able to hold their babies. All the Ignividosi men who lost wives and never recovered from it– there were many she'd read about, and she found that she admired their ability to stay faithful even after death. None had known their fates and all had carried with them a duty to their bloodline, a dying name that should have been greater than it currently was. That, she clung to, because it didn't matter that her mother was Viserra's daughter and she was Daemon's. In the end they were Ignividosi and that was more or less a good thing to be in this world.

She looked up at Skyfall, who followed overhead. Rhysaenya wished she could have ridden her the whole way, but the sailors insisted it might not be safe– landing on the ship would be difficult to do. She entertained herself watching Skyfall dip into the water and come out with fish in her jaws, very pleased to be by the sea. Maybe she remembered being born on Tarth, maybe she was glad to be going home.

After several days at sea, the clouds finally cleared, a mournful sea opening into a glittering stretch of water surrounding the enormous isle of Tarth. A magnificent castle rested atop the cliffs, more beautiful than anything she could have imagined. The fortress was better than she expected, fortified from the many years since Agratzli and Elisii first came to House Tarth's shores and overthrew them with ease. Large columns of stone and marble extending toward the sky, archways connecting towers and climbing up and up to the two highests towers, between which a great jet of light shone directly upward, a beacon toward the sky.

The ship stopped before reaching a stony beach much like Dragonstone, though it was far wider and had a dock filled with little boats, several of which were out fishing. Three of them made for the ship to bring them to land, bearing rowers who all looked the same. Shirtless men with burn marks over their chests, all varied in amount. Why they all had at least three kills even after so many years of peace, she didn't know– she still wondered where her father had found so many men to kill to fill his back with marks. And standing alone against thirty men– when had he done that?

None of the men greeted her. They were silent, not even chatting with each other. Rhysaenya noticed how they kept their eyes fixed ahead, and when the boat neared the sandy shore, four climbed out wordlessly to pull it out of the water and clear a path for her. One offered his arm to her and she took it, stepping onto the sand and saying, "Thank you."

The man smiled for a split second then stopped. He led the way through the beach toward a slope where some horses awaited them. More men quietly helped her onto hers then mounted their own, the horses transporting them up the rocky slope for at least a mile until they reached a grassy field where a carriage stood, its doors open.

Overhead, Skyfall descended from the clouds, chirping and landing a few meters from the carriage. "I'll meet you all at the castle," said Rhysaenya to the men who loaded the carriage with her trunks. She ran to Skyfall, who flattened herself against the grass for Rhysaenya to climb on. She took her mount and tugged at the reins, the dragon taking off and flying her the rest of the way to the castle, soaring over large stone doors with etchings of a phoenix on either side, wings colliding together where the doors met.

The servants in the yard and on the ramparts of the castle cried out in wonder as Skyfall circled, looking for the best place to land. She could already see her mother waiting with two men and a woman by the entrance to the castle, the doors open to reveal the interior was bathed with a golden light, as if sunset persisted to illuminate the palace.

She guided Skyfall to land in the center of the yard, the dragon roaring when she saw all the people around her. Rhysaenya slid off, her mother appearing both annoyed and proud as Skyfall took off again, flying until she'd perched herself on one of the towers to supervise Rhysaenya's interactions with her family. The dragon was massive, nearly sliding off it, but she would not leave her sight– she felt a tug in her gut, a sensation of dread, it was as if Skyfall was warning her that she did not trust this place, these people. She did not wish to let Rhysaenya be alone with them.

"You are finally home again," said her mother, stepping aside for Rhysaenya to greet her brothers. Between them was a blonde woman with eyes the color of the sky. Her features were delicate, her skin pale, hair lighter in the sunlight, and a sharp nose that made her look more Valyrian than most in her family did. She imagined it was from all the times that the Ignividosi had inserted themselves in the Tarth bloodline.

The two men on either side of her were tall, though not nearly as tall as their father. They both had his same piercing gaze, eyes heavily shadowed to the point she hardly noticed their eyes were purple like her mother's, whereas Karrhys had eyes dark as a bat. Their noses were nearly identical, flanked by his same sharp cheekbones.

No one could doubt that they were Karrhys's sons, nor could they doubt they were Rhaelyn's. One had her same curly golden hair and lips, the other had her eyebrows and ears. The one with the golden hair had his cut the way Karrhys wore it, long enough to curl around his face but short to a point it would not interfere in times of battle. The one with Karrhys's dark head had his a bit longer, though tied back as warriors wore it.

"Little sister," said the golden-haired one, lips thinning into Karrhys's intimidating grin. "It's been a long time since I have seen you. I am Eilryd, husband of Lady Bea Tarth and heir to the Phoenixfort."

She curtsied to both. "Brother, Lady Bea. It is good to meet you." Was it good to meet them? She felt the churn in her stomach again, as though Skyfall had not liked the way they extended their arms in greeting. She heard the dragon sneer, but paid it no mind.

"It is good to meet you, too," said Bea kindly. She seemed so fair in comparison to her husband and lover, it was difficult to believe they had any sort of arrangement with each other. There was a shine in her eyes, however. Rhysaenya wondered if Bea was playing at her own game here. She might as well enjoy herself in this arrangement, should she not?

"And I am Arrwyth," said the dark-haired man, bowing his head to his sister. "I hear you've taken a liking to the spear. I'll be instructing you until Father returns from Driftmark." He offered his hand. "Come with me. It is high time you met our phoenix."

Rhysaenya nodded and took Arrwyth's hand despite Skyfall's low rumbles, letting him guide her into the castle. It was strange to meet her brothers, both being so much older. They'd been sixteen and thirteen when she was born, and she couldn't recall if they played with her or cared about her at all. Technically, by this point, Eilryd should've had a niece or nephew for her to spend time with while here, but it seemed she was the only child anywhere in the castle. The youngest servants seemed to be near her mother's age.

"It's quiet here," said Arrwyth as they walked. "Did you notice?"

"Yes," she said. "The guards do not speak. Why?"

"Sytli and Rhysilla made the rule when they killed Aniiro. They liked a silent castle to make them feel their secrets were being kept. Gossipers used to have their tongues removed here. They can speak in their private quarters, but in the halls, we all command respect by holding our tongues. It is uncommon for us to even be speaking now, really, normally we move around doing whatever we must do and only speak when necessary. Father taught us to use our words wisely."

That sounded awful. She couldn't imagine not being able to ever talk. "It must get boring," she surmised.

"Not if you remain focused," said Arrwyth. "Eilryd and I are speaking with Father most days about the things that need to be done. We speak when training soldiers or each other because criticism is necessary. All precise, chosen carefully."

"You and Eilryd are together all the time?" she asked. It reminded her of her time with Helaena. Rhysaenya always felt so lonely when she wasn't with her.

"Most of the day, yes," he replied. "I assume your father told you about Lady Bea?"

Rhysaenya nodded. "Yes. You both love her and she loves both of you. But you have not had children."

"It's a common thing in our line," said Arrwyth. "You know how the Ironborn have rock wives, the ones born on their land and of a high status, and salt wives, the ones they take from raids? It's similar here, only the wife can be of any status and she has an equal choice in who becomes her husband. When the first Ignividosi who arrived realized how difficult it was to keep daughters, they fell into the tradition of using any means necessary to conceive. Tell me, who did Etzli Ignividus marry?"

"She married Aerys Targaryen," recited Rhysaenya. "Gave birth to Aelyx, Baelon, and Daemion Targaryen. Her niece Arazza, daughter of her brother Agraz and his wife Aelyna Velaryon, married her son Daemion, and they had Aerion, who married Valaena Velaryon and gave birth to Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys. Then, Etzli married Agraz when Aerys and Aelyna died and they had Macoatl and Neitli, parents of the Three Brothers."

"Except," corrected Arrwyth, "it is assumed only that Daemion was the father of Aerion Targaryen. Aerion was an only child... Daemion and Arazza never conceived again. Many believed Arazza had to sleep with both Aelyx and Baelon to conceive a child in the first place– try and try until it worked."

Rhysaenya made a face. "No wonder they call us a House Built by Bastards. Everyone has a different parent than what is recorded in history."

Arrwyth laughed, "Yes, but think– Aerion would be the exact same whether his father was Aelyx, Baelon, or Daemion. Bastards can be important. Look at you, you are going to become the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms."

"I still don't know how they mean for that to happen," admitted Rhysaenya. "Will they convince King Viserys to make Aegon heir?"

"Everyone is trying to do that, I think. Don't worry about the logistics. Your part in this is small, as is mine. We need to be better warriors and produce children for the survival of our house. Father may marry me to another one of the Tarth girls soon to see what happens. He refuses to see Backbiter passed to someone of Caytell's line."

"Who would even receive it?" asked Rhysaenya. "Caytell's bastard lines were either legitimized on the mainland or serving as guards now..."

"They don't live here in the castle. They're within the town, at a smaller keep where Father makes them maintain order with the Tarths and other smaller houses that reside under our dominion. That is House Ignividus of Phoenixtown, while we are House Ignividus of the Phoenixfort, sometimes called House Ignividus of the Sapphire Isle. In a way, we are our own realm the way the Iron Islands are. The good thing is that the ruling lord there, from the only line of Caytell that remained here permanently since being legitimized, is a man named Arlys who is only a bit older than Eilryd and has also proven to have no success in producing children. Which means we still have time. If all fails, I suppose Father will have no choice but to legitimize Moyric and marry him to another Tarth girl to see if he can propagate our line."

"What happens if you marry someone?" asked Rhysaenya curiously. "I mean, with Eilryd and Bea."

He shrugged, "I have to marry someone someday regardless. I suppose we'll see if Eilryd likes her too, if she likes Eilryd, if she likes Bea, if Bea likes her. We'll figure things out."

He stopped as they reached a hallway that seemed to end with a large painting of Agratzli Ignividus seated on the Throne of Agni. It was made entirely red, all different shades— her mother taught her that the painting had been made with blood. She stared up at the image of Agratzli, his armor filled with patterns of phoenixes and fire blown over his shoulders, Backbiter held between his legs with its tip against the ground. His intense gaze, the regal posture, the clear detail on his armor, the hard and intimidating expression on his face– he did not look only like a king, he looked like a god.

He appeared a giant relative to his wife Elisii, who stood beside his throne in her own armor and with a dagger crossed over her heart. It was said that Aegon Targaryen used the Throne of Agni as a model for how he wanted the Iron Throne– the seat of House Ignividus resembled fire itself, made of steel covered in rubies, fire opals, amber, sunstones, and topaz, so it looked as though the ruler was engulfed in tongues of fire that extended high, curled around the throne like a pearl inside an oyster.

Rhysaenya couldn't understand why looking at the art made her so emotional. The hairs on her arms stood, she felt tears well in her eyes, her heart seemed to ache. She wondered if Agratzli thought of the curse upon his descendants, if Elisii knew her daughter and granddaughter and those that came afterwards would die in a pool of their own blood. Staring up at her ancestors brought her this strange desire to make them proud– she wondered if they knew she'd claimed a dragon, if they knew she might actually give House Ignividus what it had never had.

"This is one of the most famous paintings in all of Westeros," explained Arrwyth. "Their son, King Higaal, commissioned it the moment the Throne of Agni was completed, wishing to mark the start of a new age for their House. Many who have seen it feel as you do, intimidated and fascinated at the same time. Eilryd and I spent a lot of time here as boys. Father would teach us our histories seated right in front of it, he'd discuss the importance of our role in this family. You've always been so distant by no fault of your own... and I am glad you are finally here to live the experience of a true Ignividosi."

"I don't entirely like my role in this," admitted Rhysaenya. "Father is... terrifying. Mother is strict. They want all these things from me and I suppose some parts are good but I don't entirely know if this is right."

"Of course it is right," said Arrwyth. "It ensures the stability of the Realm and the recognition of our family. The gods would not have let Daemon's seed take root in our mother's belly if they did not mean for you to bring us glory. You will be our savior, Rhysaenya. All that anger you've felt, rage you could not understand, it is because you were meant for greatness. The phoenixblood runs strong in you, as strong as the dragonblood. Now... we'll be going underground. You're not afraid of spiders, are you?"

"No," she said. "I catch them for Helaena."

"Very good. Given a few years, you'll be as brave as an Ignividosi no matter where you are. You'll fight as we all have."

She furrowed her brows. "Mother doesn't fight."

"No, you're right. Not every woman in our line did, but most were warriors. It is impossible to think you won't be a demon with your spear the way Father is with his sword. Even your real father is a renowned warrior. Think, you were taught by the man who wields Backbiter and born from the man who wields Dark Sister. One day, it will come in handy. If our family is threatened... you may one day need to stand against your real father in the skies as you would on the ground."

"Stand against him?" Rhysaenya asked uncomfortably. "Am I being expected to duel him?"

He smirked. "Not exactly." He said nothing more of the subject, beckoning her toward the wall beside the painting. At least, it looked like a wall until he pressed his hands down on one stone, shifting it slightly and revealing a hidden door. Inside were stairs descending directly into the darkness, a lone torch waiting to be taken.

Arrwyth led the way down, Rhysaenya trailing behind. She wasn't afraid of the dark, but she was starting to feel suffocated the further down they went, moisture all over the walls that seemed to close in. They seemed to walk down a spiral staircase forever, until at last their path opened into a large cavern filled with pillars. Arrwyth zig-zagged through them, a path unofficially marked by worn footprints. Rhysaenya struggled to keep up, his legs so long she had to take several steps to match his one.

At last, light began to enter and Arrwyth set the torch down on one of the pillars. The chamber had a circular opening in the domed ceiling, allowing in natural light. But it was more than that— in the center of the opening was a hung cage, and within sat a red bird, head downturned and expression sad. The light that came from the phoenix's crest shot straight upward, the beam she'd seen from the sea.

The phoenix was beautiful, orange and yellow dots across the tips of its feathers like tongues of flame. Yet, it turned toward them sadly, emitting a weak chirp at the sight of Rhysaenya. The closer she got, the more she realized how ruffled his feathers were, how milky his eyes had become.

"He is ready for his rebirth," said Arrwyth. "He has been waiting for you to come. It is why our mother summoned you. You see..." He drew his sword, causing her to flinch. "This phoenix thrives on blood. When we kill our enemies, we come to bathe our swords in its fire to feed it. It is why we use blood magic– it connects us to the phoenix's power."

He took her arm, and she did not try to rip away even as he lowered the sword onto her palm. Wincing, she felt him cut just enough that he drew blood onto her hand. "The blood in you is the most powerful we have been able to give him in years. And because it is you who will be our strength... it is you who must give him his last drink before he awakens a new decade filled with prosperity and glory."

The phoenix cocked its head slowly, beak open as Arrwyth brought her hand into the cage and let the blood dribble into his mouth. It closed its weary eyes, drinking. At last, it seemed satisfied. Arrwyth drew her hand out just in time– in a split second, the phoenix burst into flames. Rhysaenya leapt back, holding her hand tight to stop the blood and shielding her eyes. In seconds, it had been reduced to ash, smoke filling the chamber and obscuring her vision. When the air cleared, the cage was open and empty.

Arrwyth beckoned her to follow him. "Let us find Father. He will be waiting for you." Opposite to where they stood was a new door made entirely of stone. Through it, they found a set of stairs ascending into the grass behind the castle– easy access into the fields. Rhysaenya looked up, expecting to see Skyfall patrolling the area. Instead, all she saw was Karrhys at the slope of the hill, looking down at a herd of sheep feeding in the grass.

"The first Ignividosi came with the might of conquerors," she heard Karrhys say pensively, "but with the minds of explorers. They could have overthrown the Storm Kings entirely. They could have even changed the course of history by stopping Aegon's Conquest. They should have seen Aenar and his family as a threat, they should have seized control of the bloodline. With this phoenix, we could have been the real Conquerors."

"But the Targaryens still would have had dragons," she said quietly. "What would one..." She remembered how small the bird had looked in the cage, "Tiny phoenix have done about those?"

He turned to her with a wicked smile, long fingers interlacing. "A phoenix makes its own flame... and can take flame from others. It could have choked the life out of the dragons each time they tried to burn down men and cities. A phoenix could've killed Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar."

"But Visenya and Aegon were warriors like the Three Brothers. How—?"

"Warriors, you believe? To history. They were acceptable. Formidable to common men. We are the greatest house of warriors, undoubtedly. Aniiro alone could have defeated both of them. With Caytell and Agrazos at his side— Agrazos especially motivated by his love for Rhaenys Targaryen— they would've seized their power for themselves. We didn't stop the Conquest or kill the dragons because we chose to. We were weak in the beginning and everyone suffered for it."

He must have sensed her doubt. This was all so new to her. For the longest time, she had been told that dragons were the greatest might in the Seven Kingdoms. How could she suddenly believe that one small phoenix was stronger? More of a threat to those who sat the Iron Throne than a great beast like Balerion the Black Dread had been?

He held out his arm. The sky disappeared, a white flash taking Rhysaenya's vision from her. Then, she felt the scorch of flames over her face. She could see again, as if someone had given the light back to her. Wings made of fire spread throughout the sky, concealing everything else as the phoenix– much larger than she had thought it in the cage– landed on Karrhys's arm.

"There is no further room for weakness," said Karrhys as the flames died, the phoenix's feathers bright and vibrant– even the way his eyes looked to her reminded her of her father's cruel stare. "We will use all our force this time and change the dynasty forever. Rest this night, but know that tomorrow... you will start becoming a true Ignividus."