I witnessed three deaths that day, Elia, Rhaenys, and the boy with no name, the one who never even truly got to live. Ghosts remain in limbo for a time, wishing to right the wrongs begun in life. Mine seemed to follow in suit. The pretty satin gown had gone to rags, hanging around a body so much thinner than I remembered. "How old are you?" Rhaenys whispered. By her count, my feline body was only two. The soul…. Well, the soul is another matter. "A thousand years, my lady. I flew above Old Valyria, and knew the first Aegon." She nodded, and glanced back at a ghostly Elia and her boy. It was sad to see the Dornish princess's eyes so filled with grief, but they had been that way since Harrenhal. A reminder of her duty, and a terrible promise. They flickered, then mother and child were gone, floating down another corridor. "They have different path, Rhaenys. You could never follow."
"And mine?"
"With the dragons. Summerhall."
"Will Father be there?"
"No, my Lady. Your father sits with the stone kings, enough swords to last a lifetime and beyond. There are blue roses too, dead and black like the wolves. How could Rhaegar have known that the Tower of Joy could cause so much pain?" Rhaenys stared at him blankly. "A rhetorical question, my lady. I have begun to ramble on in old age." The girl absentmindedly nodded and looked to the window, to the burnt skies and stench of death. "We leave. Now." she whispered. I left King's Landing with Rhaenys, my four feet matching hers step for step. If one were to look toward the princess's ghost, they would have seen only a barely visible ball of light, something so pale you had to close your eyes to see it.