Obligatory Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. I don't own ASOIAF or anything.

Summary:

AU. Sequel to "Second Sword of Braavos." This has been edited slightly for the story to make sense as a trilogy. ((A/N: Don't worry, I'll publish each one chapter by chapter, so it'll be fun to read along with!))

Braavos is an ancient and beautiful city of ships, wealth, and purple hulls. The world-renowned Courtesans of Braavos have their own barges and servants to attend them. With The Veiled Lady, the most-mysterious of these Courtesans, Syrio Forel had a lovely daughter, who would someday become the Queen of the Iron Islands.


"Theon. Theon Greyjoy."

He wasn't sure where the voice came from, exactly, but when he looked up he saw it seemed to roll in over the sea with the evening's mist. From across the sea came galloping sounds against the surface of the water. He turned, and a great black mare was galloping towards him. It reared and whinnied merrily, its long mane of waves flowing in the sea wind. The strange thing was that it had brown eyes, like the kind a human girl would have.

"Is that you, Theon Greyjoy?"

The voice was of a young lady with a slightly foreign accent; it was the kind that flourished on the rolling "r" sounds, which almost purred like a kitten. Theon smiled at the mare. "I must be drunk," he said.

"Not drunk, but asleep and dreaming," answered the mare, who shook her head happily. "Which explains why you're naked and not freezing. Do you often dream of being naked?"

Theon looked down to see his feet in the sand, his cock, and his pale belly. "Don't know. I don't often remember my dreams. But this will surely be one I'll remember. Talking horses," he mused, "what a laugh."

"I'm not a horse," said she, now sounding a little annoyed, "I just appear like a horse because this is the form the magic chose for me."

He laughed. Then he saw the mare's eyes looking very serious. Theon's smile faded. "Magic?"

"Naturally," said the mare, grazing the sand with her front hoof and prancing in place. "Don't you believe in magic? Surely this isn't the first 'spell' a woman has cast on you." The mare whinnied and batted her eyes flirtatiously.

"Alright, what's going on? Is this real?" asked Theon, his hands now on his naked hips.

"Of course it is," said the mare. "And I'm very happy I finally found you. That is, of course, if you are indeed Theon Greyjoy."

"Of course I'm Theon Greyjoy."

"Heir to the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy? Ward of the Starks, Theon Greyjoy?"

"The same," he said, skeptical.

"Good," said the mare. "I'm glad I got in the right dream. I'd love to explain, since you look very confused, but I can only do this for so long, and I don't want to waste any time. I wanted to let you know who I was before it all happened."

Theon frowned. "Before what all happened?"

"I came to warn you of your future, Theon Greyjoy. With your father refusing you this very day, and your own sister trying to fuck you - even though she's married with a suckling babe at her breast - your judgement of what is and what is not a good idea is naturally poor. You're on a path to self-destruction that will lead you to torture, mutilation, trauma, and - I think - losing your cock. Also, I think you eventually die. And that is all very bad news for me."

Theon's face went red and pink and purple with anger, even in a dream. "What do you know about that?!"

"I'll admit there are only a few things that I know. But I just know that you tried to fuck your elder sister. And I think that's vile."

"I didn't know it was her! She's the vile one, trying to seduce me!"

"Agreed. To go to such lengths are quite vile. But you must admit that her reasons were valid. The Starks had you for a long time after the rebellion, and you know that your father is understandably suspicious of you and your loyalties. But I know the Starks, and I know you, and I know you feel you have something to prove. But let's not talk about that. I just wanted to tell you that you must not sail with your father and sister when they decide to storm The North while you all march South."

Theon paused, completely confused. "Are you sure this isn't a dream that I'm making up?"

"Of course I'm sure. When was the last time you had a dream like this?"

"I don't think I've ever had a dream like this," he admitted.

"Exactly. So will you listen or not?"

Theon shook his head. "I can't take a giant talking mare seriously."

The mare stamped her hooves, rolling her massive head. "Well turn me into something better, then, that you can take seriously!"

"Me turn you? I thought you were the magical one."

"This is the form that the magic chose for me. It does as it wills, for I am merely a vessel of the power, using the tool of the moon mirror. I'm in your dream, you must imagine me as something you can talk to and I'll become that. Just please, something with two legs."

Theon thought for a moment before approaching, running his calloused hands along the mare's front, back, and flanks, smiling. "I can turn you into anything I want?" he said.

"Anything," said the mare. "But may I request a human woman as my form, considering that's actually what I am?"

"I think I can handle that," said Theon, closing his eyes and thinking of his favorite red-haired whore back in Winterfell. Her flesh the color of pale oatmeal, her taut ass and how the night air would lick her tits. When he opened his eyes again, he found her, standing with her feet in the sea, her nipples hard from the cold. She looked down at herself, her arms, her red hair, and then shot Theon a rather annoyed look.

"This is what you like, then?" she said. "Is this your favorite whore's body? You'd better not expect this when you see me in person."

"You said anything I wanted." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. Theon looked her up and down. "Can we fuck in dreams?"

"Did you hear me earlier when I said I was here to warn you against the path that involves you losing your cock?"

Theon looked up, frowning. She looked very serious, and quite desperate. She quickly composed herself, and began pacing the beach. Theon soon realized he'd completely forgotten her name already.

"Alright," he said, "tell me of this future. Are you some prophet? A messenger of the Gods?"

"My soul might be that of something similar, but I - in body - am simply Cadenzsa Forel. I have been blessed with this magic, like my mother before me, and her mother before her, who was a Dothraki Maegi, trained in the arcane arts. I will admit that she did blood magic, but I assure you that I have never touched that. I only use the gifts I was given by the Gods for good, like my mother taught me."

Theon frowned. "Did you say Cadenzsa Forel?"

Ros's body was blown away in the form of ten-thousand black feathers, and in her place was Cadenzsa Forel, the most beautiful Lady in the known world. She appeared like Theon remembered her the most-fondly, in that island blue gown that hugged her waist down to her hips, and flared out like the petals of a poppy flower. It was the same gown with the long sleeves and black ribbons that laced through them, and the same that she'd worn at the last Feast at Winterfell, the night before she left for King's Landing with her father.

She looked down at her hands, her gown, her dark-colored flesh and her gorgeous black curls which fell down to her waist. She looked up at him and smiled the smile he remembered - the same smile that stopped his heart in his chest, for her lips were full and dewy, and her teeth were white as pearls.

"I can't believe you remember me in this gown," she all but purred.

Theon gulped, his stomach tight. "I never thought I'd see you again," he whispered. "This is a dream," he said. "This is a dream." He said it again to assure himself that he wasn't going mad.

"Yes, this is a dream," she said, smiling. "But a very important dream. Remember the magic? My mother? My Dothraki grandmother?"

"I thought you said you were Braavosi."

"I am."

"And your grandmother is Dothraki?"

"She was. And my grandmother prayed to the Mother of Mountains for a beautiful daughter that would ride away from the Dothraki and break the curse that was on their house. She birthed the most-beautiful woman the Dothraki had ever seen, otherwise known as The Veiled Lady, who is a gorgeous and famous Cortesan of Braavos. It is from her that I have learned my lady-like ways of poetry and song and dance and conversation."

"Courtesan?" Theon asked, now a little amused. "We all called you a 'Lady' and your mother is a Courtesan?"

"Courtesans are not whores," snapped Cadenzsa. "They sell their skills, not their sexes."

Theon placed his hands on his hips and goaded "And if she's so beautiful then why wear a veil?"

"If you're good at something, never do it for free." She smiled. "I think you know what I'm talking about."

Theon circled her. "So your mother knows magic? And what about your father? He's the Lord? Is he still in King's Landing?"

"He should be," said Cadenzsa, sounding a little unsure.

"So he is a man of great power?"

"He is," said Cadenzsa with a great smile. "And he has left my mother and I a great amount of money for a dowry to the man I deem worthy of me. Who better than a future King?" Theon's tongue got caught in his throat suddenly; his heart began to race. "What I say is true! You will be King of the Iron Islands, and I will make it happen. And I will make it so you are wealthy, and I will train your army so that the Iron Born are not hacking and smacking brigands and blaggards, but proper Waterdancers with swords that all men will fall to. Your Kingsguard will be the finest warriors in the Known World."

"What do you mean 'worthy of you?'" asked Theon.

Cadenzsa shrugged, looking out to the sea. She looked back at Theon. "You know, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we parted. I still have the bow you gave me. I've missed you."

"I've missed you." It was not so much a proclamation of love for Theon, but more a final ability to be honest with himself. With the War of Five Kings as his distraction, he hadn't dealt with all the pent-up feelings Cadenzsa had left in him when she'd ridden off to the South. That haunting look of regret in her eyes as she boarded the carriage with her Braavosi father gave Theon nightmares.

He reached out to touch her, first grazing his fingers along her collarbone, moving slowly, afraid that if he moved too quickly that she might disappear. He traced his fingers along the bone, and up to her shoulder, where he felt the black lace on her collar. And then up to her neck, to caress her cheek. She brought her hand up and caught Theon by surprise when she laced her fingers between his. It was exactly how he remembered her hands; soft and strong.

"Is this real?"

"As real as a dream can be," said the lovely Braavosi with a smile.

Theon took a long moment to let it all sink in. "So if I do these things, I see you again? And then we marry?"

"And you win the Great War of the Five Kings, of course, with your father's ships under your command, making me Queen of the Iron Islands, someday. But that will not happen if you attack Winterfell and take over."

"What are you talking about? You know that I would never attack Winterfell - "

"You say that now, but you will. Or, rather, you would, in order to gain your father's respect. He plans to attack the North while the Stark Lord is fighting south. You have many choices, but if you take the road which leads you to consecrating your faith to the Drowned God, abandoning loyalties and oaths made to the Starks, and fighting alongside your father and sister against the North, then you will suffer a horrific fate. I mean horrific."

Theon had to sit down on the sands to take it all in, the weight of his own body suddenly quite cumbersome. Cadenzsa, after a few moments, came and sat by him, her gown flowering out in the sand.

"Listen," she said. "I know that this is all nearly impossible to believe. I know that you think that this is all just a stupid dream. But when my mother comes with her purple hulled ship, flying the banners of The Veiled Lady, you will know that what I say is true."

"So what do you want me to do?"

Cadenzsa took his hand and held on tight. "Don't worry so much. Just act like you're expecting us, and my mother and I will take care of the rest. And don't let them see you're afraid."

"I am not afraid of my father!" Even in dreams, Theon's voice faltered.

"Of course you are," said Cadenzsa with a tiny smile, a laugh that reminded him of the larks that chirped in the summery spring of Winterfell. Why did she have to be so beautiful? So exotic? "All children fear their fathers to an extent. And there is nothing wrong with that."

Theon stood, now angry. "And just what would you know about that, then? What would some Braavosi courtesan's daughter know of the Iron Islands?"

"All the things you've told me, for example," said Cadenzsa, standing and brushing her gown free of sand. "Through the black mirrors I have thanks to my grandmother, I can see anything I want. I can see into the minds of men, and also into their pasts, their futures, their hearts, their beds, their days and nights. I will show you when we meet again."

Theon made a huffing and angry sound through his nose, like a pig snorting through slop. "And how do you know my father will listen to your mother?"

"He will," said Cadenzsa, taking his face in her hand. "Stand up to him. I know men like Balon Greyjoy. If you stand up to them, and show them you aren't afraid, they'll be quiet and listen. He needs to see that you're a man, a warrior. I know what you are, Theon Greyjoy, and I know the kind of man you can and will become, if you accept my help."

He studied her eyes; her poisonous eyes that had haunted his every thought like a sickness. "What if you're wrong?"

"What if I'm right?" And with that, she was gone, leaving nothing but the sea.

"Cadenzsa?"

Theon wandered the beach in his dreams for awhile in order to find her. He soon woke up, and wondered if the dream had been anything but. Then, an angry-sounding knock came at his chamber door, and his doubts were somehow erased.