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“And now...farewell to kindness, humanity and gratitude. I have substituted myself for Providence in rewarding the good; may the God of vengeance now yield me His place to punish the wicked.”
- Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo
PROLOGUE
In another life my name was Daenerys Targaryen. Seventeen years ago, my father Rhaegar was accused of a crime he didn't commit and sent to prison for life, where he died an innocent man ten years later.
Before that fateful day my understanding of revenge was as simple as the Seven Pointed Stars doctrines it hid behind. Neat little morality slogans, like "do unto others" and "two wrongs don't make a right". But two wrongs can never make a right, because two wrongs can never equal each other. For the truly wronged, real satisfaction can only be found in one of two places: absolute forgiveness... or mortal vindication.
This is not a story about forgiveness.
When deception cuts this deep, someone has to pay. My father's chance to bring justice to the truly guilty was stolen from him. His only option was to forgive. I have others.
When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes, all you have left is revenge.
Dragonstone Island – End of September 2017
A gun shot, whose sound is masked by the fireworks exploding in the air, and a man in a white suit falls face down on the sand. The gun is shot twice more before the man stops moving.
A few meters away, a wooden gazebo built by the beach is festively adorned in red and white colours. People are dancing and drinking, while in the background a slideshow is depicting a handsome couple – one dark haired and grey-eyed, the other silver-haired and violet-eyed – occupied in various activities: sailing, riding, having dinner, dancing.
The same beautiful young woman in the pictures, wearing a long red dress like all the other female guests, silver hair collected in a long braid falling down her shoulders and back, is standing in front of a long table whose surface is covered in various appetizers and opened bottles of champagnes and decorated with an ice centrepiece carved in the shape of a wolf.
The woman wipes a few grains of sand from her hand before she’s joined by a pretty dark-haired and dark-skinned woman.
“Doreah! There you are! I’ve been looking for you. Where’s Jon?”
“Uh, he’s walking and brooding by the beach. We had a…thing. But, don’t worry, he’s right behind me.”
“It’s my job to worry. Yours is to enjoy yourself. It’s your engagement party after all.”
Doreah smiles at the other woman. “Thank you, Missandei. Oh, and if I haven’t told you yet, this looks incredible. You did an amazing job.”
Missandei smiles back at her, “Thank you.” She comes closer to Doreah and whispers, “Are you sure about this? You can still back down,” Missandei says in a joking tone, but her eyes belie the lightness in the question.
Doreah fakes a laugh, “I went into this with my eyes wide open. Don’t worry about me. I love Jon.”
Missandei nods. “I know.”
They can’t talk more openly than that, so they stop talking altogether and Missandei busies herself with finding Jon. “Can someone get me a 20 on Jon Snow, please?” She talks into her earpiece before walking away.
Doreah notices Tyrion Lannister waving at her from a nearby table. Some random guy Doreah doesn’t remember the name of congratulates her on her engagement and she absentmindedly thank him while making her way towards Tyrion.
“Nice night for it.” Tyrion says with a grin at her.
Doreah forces herself not to roll her eyes at him. “Nice night for what, Tyrion?”
“Celebrating, of course.” He sips his champagne with a satisfied nod.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Doreah says through gritted teeth and a fake smile.
“That makes two of us.” Tyrion replies. “I know you love him but…”
“That’s not why I’m marrying him.” Doreah says in a whisper.
“Yes, that’s why you shouldn’t be here. What happens when he finds out who you really are?” Tyrion murmurs, his lips covered by the champagne glass.
Doreah doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to think about it. The truth is that she hopes that, once he’ll find out – and he will, sooner or later, because everyone else will as well – that he will forgive her, and that he’ll understand. Jon doesn’t know the whole truth, but if he did, he would have as many reasons as her to hate Ned and Catelyn Stark.
It’s pointless to think about it now. She’ll cross that bridge when she gets to it. For now, only the plan matters.
“Doreah, where have you been hiding?” Margaery Tyrell approaches her. She ignores Tyrion who raises his glass in her direction once before walking away.
Doreah turns to smile at the woman. “I was right here the whole time.”
“Come on, let me see that ring.” Margaery said and Doreah showed it to her once again. It was a beautiful 10 karat, round diamond solitaire that Jon had told her belonged to his mother.
“Jon certainly has good taste. You’re a lucky girl.” Margaery says with a sweet smile. Doreah smiles sweetly back but she knows Margaery had designs on Jon at one point, though she shifted her attention on Robb Stark, Jon’s cousin, since then. Robb was technically the highest prize, as the male heir of Ned Stark and all his fortune, but Margaery had never forgiven Jon for rejecting her years ago.
“Oh, I know.” She simply answers back. “So, where’s Robb? I thought you came with him tonight?”
“I did.” Margaery says. “He was here a few minutes ago. He said he would go looking for Jon. They’re probably together now.”
Doreah nods at Margaery but before she can add anything else, Catelyn and Ned Stark walk to stand side by side on the small stage built for the occasion, smiling at the guests around them and obviously ready to give a speech.
Catelyn took the microphone handed to her and started to speak, “fire and ice... When we first sat down to discuss tonight's occasion, I was immediately taken with the idea of an evening inspired by primal bookends, fire and ice, beginnings and endings... and the love between a man and a woman.”
Doreah walks away from Margaery and takes the phone out of her purse. She calls Jon but the only answer she receives is from the answering machine.
Ned Stark takes over his wife’s speech. “Tonight, not only marks the final weekend of a remarkable summer in Dragonstone, it is also the celebration of my nephew, whom I love as if he were my own son, Jon's engagement to the lovely and beguiling Ms. Doreah Martell.” Doreah puts down her phone and applauds him. “And though we've only known her for a few short months, Doreah already feels like the piece of the family puzzle we never even knew was missing. In a word, I approve. And as anyone can tell you, approval is not something I give away freely.” The crowd laughs. Catelyn smiles next to her husband, but her blue eyes are icy.
Ned Stark had been taken with Doreah from the start, approving of the relationship between her and Jon as soon as Jon had introduced her to his uncle and aunt. Catelyn, on the other hand, had been suspicious of her and outright hostile at times. Doreah would have commended her for her intuition if she wasn’t such a thorn on Doreah’s side.
Catelyn descends the stage and walks towards her. “Where the hell is my nephew?” She asks Doreah in a furious whisper.
Before Doreah can answer, a scream is heard in the distance.
Dragonstone Island – Six Months Earlier
“I can’t tell you what a rare opportunity you have here, Ms. Martell. Beach front property entering the market this late is unheard of, never mind an address like this.
"The size of the lot exceeds the 6 acres, with a wide garden that surrounds the house, the swimming pool and the tennis court. The gated private road, as you saw when we came here, leads directly to the house, which is 12'000 square feet, and a three-car garage. The interior's spacious living room with fireplace and the connected dining room have two French windows each that open to an oceanfront porch connected to a private path that leads to the beach less than 300 feet away and a private dock. On the same floor there's the large sun-filled kitchen with breakfast area, a bathroom, a library, a billiard and bar room, a theatre room and a laundry room. The first floor has nine ensuite bedrooms and a gym with steam, sauna and massage room. The property also includes a small cottage with a living room and kitchen, three more bedrooms and 2.5 bathrooms, and its own swimming pool, which can be used to house either additional guests or the domestic staff. All of this only for eighty millions, and both the house and the cottage come fully furnished.” The real estate agent says to Doreah, showing her around the mansion that had once belonged to her father. “The current owners are eager to sell, though they stayed here every summer for fifteen years. Perhaps if Mr. Arryn had been a bit more loyal to his wife, they wouldn't be selling now.”
Doreah picks up a photo that depicts the couple in question. Mr. Arryn looks rather old, his short air all white, and though he had certainly been handsome once, now the only attractive feature on his face is his baby blue eyes. His wife – soon to be ex-wife – is much younger than him, but she looks worn, unhappy. Her dark red hair is sprinkled with grey and her blue eyes are dull.
“Word has it, he dumped her for a girl that could be his granddaughter. Men.” The real estate agent continues but Doreah is barely listening to her.
“You mind if I look around a bit?”
“That's what we're here for.”
Doreah walks out onto the porch and sees the three-headed dragon still etched into the porch baluster.
She remembers the day her father carved it with his pocket knife. It was the first day of what will turn out to be their last summer together.
It had been a reminder of who they were and where they came from. They were the blood of old Valyria, the blood of the Dragon.
‘Fire and Blood, these are our words. And the three-headed dragon is our crest. Do you know why three heads?’
Doreah – Daenerys then – had shaken her head so Rhaegar had explained. ‘Because three are the stages of life: birth, life and death. And three are also the way we divide time: past, present and future. Three separate entities, but all connected with each other, like the three heads are connected to its body. Without birth, there’s no life, and without life there can be no death. Without past there’s no present and without present there is no future. Do you know what it means?’
Daenerys had shaken her head again.
‘It means that every action, every deed, whether good or bad, has its consequence. It's just as Newton's third law states: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.’
“Ms. Martell?” The estate agent brings her back to the present. “I have to warn you that I have other offers as well, but since you were the first to take an interest in this property, you have precedence. However, I can’t stall for much longer. The summer is about to begin.”
Doreah looks to her left, at the large manor house that she knew belonged to the Stark family. Sixteen years ago, it had been half the size that it was now.
“I'll take it.”
“Oh. Wonderful.” The estate agent says with a big smile. “I'll get the contract.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
CHAPTER 1
Ghaston Grey, Juvenile Detention Centre, Dorne – January 2011
“Happy Birthday, Targaryen.” The guard tells her, giving her back the few things she had when she was first arrested two years ago. “You’ve been emancipated.”Daenerys doesn’t answer. She keeps walking, until she’s finally standing outside the door of the juvenile centre. The gate closes behind her.She squints against the bright sun, finally noticing the car parked just outside the prison walls, and a man leaning against it, seemingly waiting for her.“Daenerys Targaryen.”Daenerys takes a few steps towards him. The man is very short, with golden blond hair and mismatched eyes, one green and one black. “Who are you?”“Tyrion Lannister. But don’t hold it against me,” Tyrion jokes. “I was a friend of your father. You’re just as beautiful as he described.”Dany scoffs, “My father hasn’t seen me in ten years. How does he know how I look?”Tyrion frowns, his face contorting in sadness. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but…he passed away. About six weeks ago.” He then gestures to the box sitting on the hood of his car. “He wanted you to have this.”Daenerys glares. “Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”“Oh no, trust me. You definitely do.”“My father was a murderer and a liar. So, why would I want anything that belonged to him?”“Because that’s just what they wanted you to believe. That’s what they wanted the whole world to believe. Forget everything you think you know, Daenerys. Your father was protecting you.”“From what?”“Open the box and you’ll find out.” Daenerys takes the box from Tyrion’s hands but doesn’t open it, not yet.“Your father was the first person to believe in me when no one else did, not even my father. Not that that means much, my father has always thought I was a mistake, a disappointment. Anyway…Rhaegar invested in my company when no one else would. This key,” He retrieves a key from his pocket before giving it to her, “opens a lockbox in Meereen. Now that you’re 18, you’re officially 49% owner of my company. Since my company’s net worth is over 80 billion dollars, you’re a very rich woman now. Board meetings are every other Wednesday, but…you don’t have to show up. I never do.”That night, in the privacy of a motel room, Daenerys opens the box. Its top is engraved with the crest of House Targaryen, the three-headed dragon.After rummaging for a bit through the pile of documents, photos and journals, Daenerys retrieves a letter.‘Dear Daenerys,’ it says,
‘If you’re reading this, then two things have come to pass. The first is that I’m finally able to provide you with the life you were unjustly denied. And the second is that, unfortunately, I won’t be able to share it with you.
I know that uncle Aemon took good care of you for as long as he could. I hope you were happy with him those few years you spent together, at least.
I tried to stop them from leaving you with my brother, but I couldn’t. Who would listen to a terrorist after all? I wanted to kill him with my bare hands when I heard what he did to you.
I just want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened, nor should you feel guilty about it. You did what you had to do. You were only defending yourself.
I’m proud of you and I love you, no matter what. Remember that.
I hope these journals provide you with the answers to the questions you must have had for all these years.
I’m not the man they say I am and I did not do the things they say I did.
All I ask is that you promise to do the one thing that’s been so hard for me to do…Forgive.
With all my love,
Your father.’
But that was a promise I couldn’t keep. I know that my father didn’t leave me his box for that purpose, but I turned it into a road map for revenge that led me to the people who destroyed our lives. One by one the guilty will pay.
I don’t want innocent people to get hurt, but sometimes it’s inevitable. Nothing ever goes exactly as you expect, and mistakes are life and death; collateral damage is inescapable.
Dragonstone Island – May 2017
Daenerys is just finishing unpacking her last things and settling down into her new home. Missandei arrives with a bottle of expensive Dornish red, entering from the glass door of the dining room, the one overlooking the back porch and the beach below.“Hello, hello.”Doreah smiles at her, always happy to see her friend. “Missandei. It’s so good to see you.”“You too.” The two women embrace warmly, not having seen each other in more than three months now.“So, what do you think?”Missandei looks around her, a glint in her eyes. “I say it’s perfect.”Doreah shrugs. “Nearly. It almost looks like it was then. Luckily the Arryns didn’t change much.”“Make it too much like it was 16 years ago and the game could be over too soon.”“Don’t worry. Only Lyanna Stark would know what it looked like inside. And Lyanna Stark is dead.”Missandei nods. “We should toast to your new house, or rather…to getting back the house that rightfully belongs to you. I bought a bottle of Dornish red. I thought it appropriate.”Doreah grins. “Yes, very appropriate.”The two of them go to sit on the sofa in front of the fireplace. They open the bottle Missandei brought and Doreah pours them both a glass. They clink their glasses together before sipping in silence for a few moments.“So…? How are things proceeding?” Doreah finally asks.“Very well, I’ll say. Catelyn Stark hired me to organize her Memorial Day party, and if it all goes well, I will work for her all summer. She’s a difficult woman to please, cold and proud. She adores her children and dotes on them, though she has a soft spot for her nephew, Jon Snow, as well. Though Jon is Ned Stark’s favourite; he prefers Jon to his own son Robb. I’m slowly but surely gaining Mrs Stark’s trust, though it hasn’t been exactly easy.”Doreah smiles, satisfied. “Good. And what about the rest of the family, what can you tell me about them?”“Ned Stark spends all his time in King’s Landing so I’ve barely seen him these past few weeks. Sansa Stark is a spoiled brat who thinks everyone should bow down to her just because she’s a Stark. Robb Stark is a playboy who loves to party and spend Daddy’s money. Arya is rebellious and stubborn, a bit of a tomboy, but I like her. She’s smart and doesn’t look down on people who aren’t as rich as her. She’s also Jon’s favourite cousin.”“And Jon Snow?” Doreah asks, her voice deceptively casual.Missandei grins. “Jon Snow is a gentleman. He’s kind and honest, though a little broody. And smart. Ned Stark, is, I think, grooming him to take over the company instead of Robb. I don’t know how Jon feels about it but he’s dutiful and has a knack for business.”“And how does Robb Stark feel about this?”"I think he's envious of his cousin, but he would never say so, either to his father or to Jon. They used to be as close as brothers once. But they're not anymore.""Why is that?""I think something happened a few years ago, but I don't know what. I can find out for you though."Doreah shakes her head. “No, don’t worry. I will find out on my own. Don’t expose yourself too much. Keep your head down.”“Of course.” Missandei answers. “Are you planning on going to Mrs Stark’s party?”“Obviously. How much are the thickets?”“10.000 dollars per person.”Doreah whistles.“It’s supposed to be a charity auction or something.” Missandei explains. “Mrs Stark’s going to auction a painting from House Stark’s private collection and the proceeds and the money gained from the sale of the thickets will be donated to charity.”“Isn’t she such a good Samaritan?” Doreah wonders sarcastically.“Oh yes, a real pillar of the community.”“Well, I suppose I’ll need a dress then.” Doreah says. “Would you like to go shopping with me later?”“I wish. But I have too much to do to spend an evening shopping. And I already bought the dress for the occasion anyway. Not that I can afford the same dresses as you.”“You know it’s just a charade, right? All of it? The dresses, the jewelry, the house, the car, the household staff. I need to play the part of the rich heiress or Ned and Catelyn Stark would never accept me into their inner circle.”“I know, Dany. And it’s thanks to you than I am where I am now. I don’t have billions in my bank account but I still earn more than I ever thought I would and my life is better than I’ve ever thought it could be five years ago. I will always be grateful to you for that.”“It’s not thanks to me. It’s thanks to you. I just helped you a little. But it’s you who made your event planning agency into the successful business it is today. You don’t need to thank me. But I’m grateful for your loyalty nonetheless.”“I would do anything for you, you know that, right?”“I know. That’s why I trust you, with my life and with my name.”Missandei nods and finishes her glass of red wine. “I should go now, before Catelyn Stark sends out a search party.”“Thank you for doing this.” Doreah says, getting up from the sofa soon after Missandei.“It’s not like I’m not getting something out of this as well. Catelyn is paying me 50’000 dollars to organize this event. And the summer’s just beginning.”“Good. I’m glad.” Doreah says, showing Missandei out before leaning against the porch rail and staring at the ocean.Catelyn Stark, standing on her bedroom’s balcony, observes the new owner of the house that once belonged to her sister Lysa and her husband. For a moment the sight of silver hair brings her back in time.She shakes her head. Both Rhaegar and Daenerys Targaryen are dead, have been dead for years in fact. And while the silver hair isn’t exactly a common trait in Westeros, there are still a few of Valyrian descendants left, the Velaryon family for example, and there were even more in Essos, especially in Lys.Catelyn descends to the ground floor and walks to the living room where her husband is talking on the phone and still busy with work.“Looks like the new owner of the house next door is settling in.” Catelyn comments casually.Ned ends the phone call and looks at her. “Lucky girl, scoring that property. The real estate agent told me she’s young, 25 at the most, basically the same age as Robb and Jon.”“Beautiful too, even from this distance.”“I guess that makes her doubly lucky.” Ned says with a shrug. He doesn’t seem to be very interested in the conversation.“I don’t believe in luck.” Catelyn says in a cold tone.“Do you believe in money then? From what I was told, she barely blinked when she heard the price. She’s either careless with her money, or she isn’t concerned with the price because such an expenditure would barely make a dent in her bank account. I bet on the latter.”“And why is that?” Catelyn asks, a little irritated. It is an irrational displeasure, born from the fact that she doesn’t like the idea of someone else living in the house where her sister had spent the summer for the last fifteen years.“Because her name is Doreah Martell.”“And?” Catelyn asks, not understanding.“And I looked her up. Curiosity, I suppose. I just wanted to know who our new neighbour was.”“What did you find out?”“Her mother was a Rogare.” At Catelyn’s slight widening of her eyes, Ned nods. “Yes, that Rogare. The second biggest bank in the world after the Iron Bank. And you know who her father was? Doran Martell.”“So? I’ve never heard of Doran Martell.”“No, and you wouldn’t. But I bet you heard of Oberyn Martell.”“Of Martell Motors? Of course, I’ve heard of him.”“That’s her uncle. Doran was Oberyn’s brother.”“Was?”Ned nods. “Yes, the poor dear lost her father in a car accident when she was ten and her mother to cancer when she was sixteen. She must have come into her inheritance once she reached legal age.”Catelyn nods. When Ned’s phone rings again, she asks her husband, “I thought you were taking the weekend off.”Ned turns his phone off, closes the laptop in front of him and takes off his spectacles. “There. I’m off.” He gets up from the chair before kissing her soundly on the mouth.“Ew, gross. Get a room, guys!” A voice from behind them distracts them from their effusions.“Oh, I’m sorry, Arya. I didn’t see you sneaking in.” Ned says with a pretend-stern voice.“I didn’t see you sneaking out last night, either, Arya.” Catelyn says with arms folded in front of her chest.“I went over to Mycah’s. I told you last night, before you went to bed.”“No, you didn’t.”Arya rolls her eyes. “Mom, you’re too young and too pretty to be this senile.”Catelyn smiles in amusement and watches Arya walk off. Her daughter has always some smart remark on the tip of her tongue.“Remind me to buy her a cat bell.” Catelyn says drily.“Aw, let her have a little fun.” Ned says, waving a hand in dismissal. “She got straight A's this year.”“No one's accusing her of being stupid.”Jon looks sternly at his dog, a great white husky with red eyes. “Ghost. The whole point of fetch is to bring the stick back when I throw it. I really gotta explain this again?”Ghost whines a little, then barks and without warning, starts running. “Come here, Ghost!”Ghost ignores him. Jon throws the stick but Ghost ignores that too. “Pick up the stick, come on Ghost!” Ghost keeps running. “Where are you going? Come back here.”Jon follows him, wondering what has gotten into him. When he reaches him, Ghost is sitting in front of the most beautiful woman Jon has ever seen. Ghost has his paw raised, seemingly waiting for the woman to take it. He barely notices her beauty at first though, too caught up in a memory that explodes in his mind all of a sudden. A memory of a little girl with silver hair and violet eyes. Dany.
An eight-year-old Jon is running on the beach with Ghost, who, at the time, is just a pup.
“Come here, Ghost!” A little girl says. “I found a stick for you.” Dany shows the stick to Ghost who bites on it.
Jon frees the stick from Ghost’s teeth before throwing it into the water. “Fetch it, Ghost. Come on! Show Dany how it’s done.”
“Nice throw.” Dany says with a smile. Jon feels himself blush at the compliment.
“Thanks.” He passes a hand through his curls, bashful. Dany flusters him all the time, and Jon doesn’t understand why. Still, he likes it. And he likes spending time with her. She’s his best friend.
“What are you doing Ghost?” Jon asks when he notices Ghost jumping the beautiful stranger. The silver-haired stranger laughs and hugs the dog to her. She pets him, not looking scared in the least.“Ghost! Get down! What has gotten into you?” Jon asks his dog, bewildered. Then he turns towards the woman. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what’s the matter with him. He’s not normally this friendly. He’s kind of an old grump actually.” He kneels on the ground to pet him together with the woman.“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” The woman smiles at her.Jon notices mud on the woman’s dress and almost groans aloud. “He got mud on your dress. I’m so sorry.”The woman waves a hand, uncaring. “Oh, that’s not big deal.”“I could pay for the drycleaner. You know, to make it up to you?” Jon asks, his words coming out flirtier than he intends, though he can’t say he minds.“Oh no, it’s fine. I got it. Thanks though.”“At least, let me buy you a coffee?”The woman laughs. “Is that your usual strategy? Sending your dog towards your target so you get to introduce yourself?”“No, no, I swear. Ghost has never behaved like this before.”“Okay, I believe you. Rain check on the coffee, though. I have another engagement today.”“Oh sure. I’m busy this evening too anyway. I’m Jon, by the way, Jon Snow.”The woman smiles at him and shakes his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jon Snow. I’m Doreah Martell.”Jon smiles at her, feeling flustered in a way he hadn’t felt since he was eight years old. “Well then. See you around Doreah.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
CHAPTER 2
Ghaston Grey, Juvenile Detention Centre, Dorne – March 2011
Daenerys would have preferred never to return here, but she has a promise to keep.“Daenerys?” Doreah’s voice call out, clearly surprised to see her there. “You came.”“I told you I would.” Daenerys says, hugging her friend to her chest.She and Doreah look a lot alike. Both silver haired and violet-eyed (though Doreah’s eyes are a darker indigo colour, similar to Rhaegar’s eyes, in fact, while Daenerys’ eyes are lilac, like her grandmother Rhaella’s). Doreah’s mother, Elaena, was a Rogare of Lys, of Valyrian descendant.They even share some features – that is because they both had a Martell for a parent. For Dany it was her mother Elia, for Doreah, Elia’s older brother, Doran. Most people, if they didn’t know who they were, would mistake them for sisters.Doreah shrugs, looking a little bashful. “People have a way of breaking promises when it comes to me.”“I’m not one of those people. I’m your friend.”Doreah smiles brilliantly at her. “I know.” Then she takes a good look at Daenerys. “Wow, you look so different. So elegant…And you cut your hair.”“Yeah. I changed a few things when I found out my dad died.”Doreah nods. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry. Though, I suppose, it must be a relief for you, at least a little?”“Not exactly.”Doreah looks at her questioningly. Daenerys takes her aside until they’re sitting in a corner, away from prying ears.“I thought I could handle it, you know? Being Rhaegar Targaryen’s daughter. But people out there, they look at me like I took down the plane myself.”“Since when do you care what people think?”“I’m not as strong as I pretended to be in here. Not as strong as you are, anyway…” Dany takes a deep breath before continuing. She isn’t being totally honest with Doreah but she can’t tell her the whole truth. If Doreah doesn’t know the truth about Rhaegar, Daenerys can protect her and leave her out of the radar of the people she’s about to go against. “Listen, my uncle left me some money…” Dany takes a piece of paper from the inner pocket of her jacket, “and I want you to have this.”Doreah looks at the paper in her hand and widens her eyes. “Isn’t it a bearer bond?”“Yeah. It’s worth 50’000 dollars. There are twenty of these and I’m giving them to you. Plus, the 5% interest every year for each one since it was issued thirty years ago…It’s a total of two million and five hundred thousand dollars. And they’re all yours.”This is the entire inheritance that Uncle Aemon left for her. It is a lot of money, but it is nothing compared to the 45 billion dollars she has gotten by liquidating the shares of Tyrion’s company; those millions are just pocket change. In fact, she even feels bad leaving Doreah with so little if compared with her real fortune. But she doesn’t know how much money she would really need for her plans of revenge against the people who had destroyed her father’s life and hers. Since those people are among the richest and most powerful in the country, she imagines it will be a lot.“That’s a lot of money. Are you sure you want me to have all this?”Daenerys sighs. “I have a favour to ask you.”
Dragonstone Island – May 2017
Doreah stands ankle deep in the chilly water, thinking.Seeing Jon again, after all these years, leaves her feeling odd. She remembers the child he used to be, how kind and gentle he was then. She wonders how much damage living with the Starks has done to him. Is he like them now? Would he turn out to be yet another enemy she needs to take down?It doesn’t matter either way, she tells herself. Jon is a just a means to an end, nothing more. A way into the Stark family, to destroy them from the inside.She watches as a wave recedes and sinks into the sand, feeling the cold seeping into her skin. A memory from the last summer with her father came to her.
Little Dany giggles and shrieks, feeling the icy cold water touching her feet. “These waves are freezing!”
“There’s a trick, you know.” Rhaegar tells her. “If you plant your feet and stand still for a whole wave, the next one will feel warmer, then the next one after, and the next one... until you barely notice the cold at all. Want to try?”
Dany nods at him, tentatively. Rhaegar takes her hand as a wave rolls towards them. The cold water nips at their ankles. Dany squeals, squeezes his hand, but holds her ground.
“Must come from a family of polar bears.” A woman’s voice snaps her back to the present.Doreah turns to see Lynesse Hightower approaching from behind her. “That water’s ice cold.” Lynesse tells her and Doreah smiles at her, playing along.“Only at first. After a while you can’t feel anything.”Lynesse smirks with amusement. “Sounds like my marriage used to be. So, you’re the girl who bought the Arryn House.”“Doreah Martell. Word sure gets around fast.”“Like lightning. Always assume someone’s watching and listening. Something most newcomers learn the hard way.” Lynesse reaches for Doreah’s hand. Doreah shakes it, keeping a smile on her face. “I’m Lynesse Hightower. We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other, I walk this beach nearly every day. Not that it does my ass much good.”“I think your ass looks great.”Lynesse grins. “I do believe you’re going to fit right in around here, Doreah. Welcome to Dragonstone.”With that, Lynesse starts her power-walk along the shoreline. As Doreah watches her go, her smile drops. After a beat, she drops her robe as well and she dives into the frigid ocean.After a good swim and a shower, Doreah is downstairs, her tablet in hand, watching the archival news footage, all dated March 23, 2001. The screen of her tablet shows a federal courtroom, focused on Rhaegar Targaryen at the defendant’s table as a beautiful blonde-haired woman takes her oath at the stand. She may be 16 years younger, and a lot less confident than the woman Doreah has just met, but there’s no mistaking who it is: Lynesse Hightower.
“Federal prosecutors wrapped up their case for treason against disgraced hedge fund executive Rhaegar Targaryen. Taking the stand was Targaryen's secretary, Lynesse Hightower, whose testimony supported the damning allegations made by Targaryen's former business partner, Ned Stark. Stark's testimony detailed the scheme Targaryen used to channel money to the terrorists responsible for the downing of Flight 197. All 246 passengers onboard that flight were killed.
“Mr. Targaryen’s former secretary testified to shredding thousands of potentially incriminating documents under Targaryen’s orders in the Spring of 2001...”
The scene jumps to the Court House steps where Lynesse stands in front of a dozen reporters, giving her statement. A reporter shouts out his question: “Miss Hightower, was it difficult giving testimony against your former boss today?”
“Rhaegar Targaryen had everyone he ever met fooled, including me. If I have any regrets, it’s that I didn’t see through his act earlier. Now I have to live with the likely fact that I helped launder money for a terrorist organization that’s killed hundreds of innocent people... I hope he gets the chair.”
Doreah grits her teeth, feeling the familiar mix of rage and pain gnawing at her chest. She touches the screen and opens the gallery. A photo of present-day Lynesse pops up. She’s on the balcony of a hotel suite, and she's not alone. In quick shutter series, a man can be seen stepping onto the balcony to join her. He puts his arms around her. And as he does Doreah watches his face, clear as day: Ned Stark. Lynesse turns to kiss him and Doreah nods to herself.She takes a photo out of the wooden box her father left for her and observes the people in the photo one by one before stopping on the blonde woman standing between her father and Ned Stark. The photo had been taken in the year 2000 and in it there were depicted all the people that would become, one year later, the conspirators that had put her father in jail for life, some more responsible than others but all of them guilty, except for her…Lyanna Stark. The only one who had tried to prove her father’s innocence. The woman her father loved, Ned Stark’s sister and Jon’s mother. She had died not even ten months after her father had been put on trial. Car accident. Or so they had made it seem. After everything Doreah had learnt in the last nine years, she just knew that her death hadn’t been an accident at all. It was their M.O. Killing someone and make it look like an accident, a fatality. They were experts in that.Will Jon believe her when the time comes? Will he believe that his mother had been killed at her own brother’s orders simply because she had interfered with his plans? Not that she has any proof on the matter, only her suspicions. But if she were to prove it, maybe…? Can she turn him on her side and against his own family?She struggles to admit it but she wants him on her side. Jon is her first friend, her first crush. She cares about him still and she doesn’t want to hurt him. But revenge is a path that she has to walk alone. She can’t get attached, can’t let anyone get in the way. Not even him.“Arya? Did you take my eyeliner again?” Sansa Stark yells, entering her little sister’s room with a frown.Arya shrugs. “Yeah, so what?”“So, what? It’s mine. How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my things? You can’t even use it properly anyway. You always look like a panda when you use it.”Arya glares at her. “Shut up!”“What? Can’t bear to hear the truth? I’m your sister, I’m supposed to tell you when something doesn’t suit you. Well, make-up doesn’t suit you.” Sansa says with a shrug. “Or dresses, or pretty things. Because you’re not pretty.”“Shut UP!” Arya screams at her. “Why do you always have to be so mean?”“Just don’t touch my things again.” Sansa replies, ignoring her sister’s shining eyes. Then her gaze wonders out of the window of Arya’s room and she sees a figure getting out of a sports’ car in the front lawn.“Robb’s home!” She says to Arya before running down the stairs to greet her big brother.“Ooh, Robb! You’re back!” She says, hugging him.“Ah, yes. How you doing?”“I’m so happy to see you.”“I’m glad to see you too.” Robb says, before noticing the various things carried out of the mansion. “What's going on, a fire sale?”“Mom’s organizing a Charity event.”Catelyn Stark walks down the stairs to join them. “Welcome home, Robb.”“Hi, mom.” Robb replies, hugging his mother as well.“I have to get ready for this evening. See you later?” Sansa says.“Okay. See you later.” Robb says, watching her sister climbing the stairs before returning his attention to his mother.“She’s taller every time I see her.”“She’s growing up fast. Too fast.” Catelyn says while the two of them walk to the living room. “You hungry?”“You know, I'm a little wiped out. I think I'll just lay down for a bit.”“Yeah, you look a little tired.”Robb laughs. “Well, studying will do that to a guy.”Catelyn frowns in reprimand. “Mm. So will partying.”“Mom, I just got here, give me a break. Where's dad, golfing?”“Where else?”“Yep. Where else?”Doreah sits in the restaurant/café adjacent to the lobby of the Dragonmont Hotel, sipping coffee, her eyes trained on Ned Stark checking in at the front desk.Ned Stark receives his room key before walking away. Once in front of the elevator, he takes his phone out of his pocket and makes a phone call. When the doors open, he steps in. A little while later Lynesse enters the lobby from outside. She slips into the same elevator Ned used. Doreah grins into her cup. Perfect.A waitress approaches her table, pot of coffee in hand. “More coffee?”Doreah’s gaze lowers to the nametag on her chest. Irri.Daenerys smiles at her. “Please.”Some time later, just outside the Dragonmont Hotel, paramedics rush a gurney towards a waiting ambulance. Mr. Stark is the man being tended to. He’s clutching his chest, looking in great pain as a paramedic squeezes an oxygen mask above his mouth. Lynesse rushes alongside the gurney, holding Stark’s hand, practically hysterical.“One minute he was fine, the next he couldn’t breathe.” Lynesse explains to the paramedic.“Is he taking any medications?”Lynesse wrings her hands, looking deeply distressed. “I’m not sure…I…”“Pulse is 100 over 60 and dropping.”“Is that bad? Is he going to be okay?”“Ma’am, I need you to step back.” The paramedic tells her, not answering her question, before shutting the doors of the ambulance.Doreah rushes to Lynesse’s side. “Lynesse?”“Doreah?”“Oh my gods, was that your husband? Do you need a ride to the hospital?”Lynesse startles, then frowns. “No…no…I…I have a car.” Lynesse says, looking around herself and realizing a small crowd had formed in front of the hotel. Not knowing what to do, she just turns on her heels without saying anything, leaving the scene at a brisk pace. Doreah watches her go with a smirk.At the docks, Jon is preparing his sailboat, intending on spending the few hours before the party with Ghost as the only company. Robb will be back today and Jon is not particularly eager to see him. Instead, he plans on replaying in his mind as many times as he can the encounter with the beautiful woman of that morning, Doreah.He’s just about ready to set sail when Tyrion Lannister shows up. “Ahoy, Cap’n Snow.”Jon sighs. “Welcome back, Tyrion. What can I do for you?”“Need a boat for the summer. This one will do.”“It’s not for rent.” Jon immediately says.“Who said anything about renting? How much you want for it?”“Not for sale, either. Thought you hated the ocean.”“I’m terrified of the ocean. Big difference. Spent a lot of time and money working through that this year, among other things. So, I’m buying a boat.”“Just not this one.”“You don’t like me much, do you?”Jon shrugs. “Something else for you to work through, I guess.” Ghost growls at Tyrion and Jon grins. “Good boy, Ghost.”Tyrion moves away a few steps, taking a look at the name painted on the aft of the boat. ‘Dany’.“You named a boat, ‘Dany’? Must have been a very special girl.”Jon shrugs, uncomfortable. “Just a childhood crush. Can I do something else for you?”Tyrion shakes his head. “No. I guess I’ll just find another boat to buy.”“Yeah, you do that, Tyrion. Now, if you don’t mind…”Tyrion nods, a grin on his face. “Of course. See you later at your aunt’s party then.”Jon merely nods, watching the weird, little man walk away.At the hospital, Catelyn Stark, after receiving the phone call that warned her of her husband’s condition, is rushing towards Ned in apparent worry.“Hey.” Ned tells her with a small smile.“Dear gods, Ned. I thought I was going to find you dead.”“I'm fine.”“What happened?” Catelyn asks the doctor standing near her husband’s bed.“Acute abdominal dyspepsia. The remorse of a guilty stomach.”“Your staff made it sound as if he was having a heart attack.” Catelyn said with a glare.The doctor looked sheepishly back at her. “Well, depending on the severity, the symptoms can be identical. As far as I can tell, your husband's as healthy as a thoroughbred. But I do suggest that he stay away from the Dragonmont Hotel's spicy bisque for a while.”Catelyn frowned, watching the doctor leave the hospital room. She turned towards her husband. “The Dragonmont Hotel?”“Yeah.”“I thought you went golfing.”Ned shrugs. “Yeah, I did, earlier.”“The Dragonmont Hotel is a half-hour in the opposite direction.”“I'm aware of that. I just thought I would go for a drive and stay out of your hair for a while. You know that I just get in the way when you're planning one of your parties. I'm sorry that I scared you.”Catelyn sighs, momentarily appeased. “Don't do it again.”“Am I to assume that Ned Stark’s little incident today has something to do with you, Daenerys?”Doreah sighs, finding Tyrion Lannister sitting on the sofa of her living room.“What are you doing here Tyrion?”Tyrion raises his arms in a sign of surrender. “Don’t worry, don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. As always. So, what’s your plan and how can I be of service?”“You can’t. You’re not a part of this.”Tyrion frowns and stand up from the sofa. “Yes, I am. Remember, I witnessed first-hand what these people did to your father. They're hard-core.”“I can handle them. And I have no problem taking you down, too, if you get in my way.”“I-I don't want to get in your way. I want to help you.”“You can't help me, Tyrion. I work alone.”“Suit yourself.” Tyrion shrugs in what is obviously fake nonchalance. “But I can be just as powerful an enemy as any one of them.” At Doreah’s glare, Tyrion raises his hands in the air. “Just sayin'. Oh, you might be interested to know, I had a nice chat with Jon Snow today. Guess who's still carrying a torch for little Daenerys Targaryen?”Doreah crosses her arms in front of her chest, her glare intensifying. “Daenerys Targaryen is dead. Now there’s only Doreah Martell.”“Of course, my mistake. Well then, welcome home Doreah.”