A spin-off from the original first chapters.


i. Brandon Stark looked upon the slender creature with thinly disguised hatred. Visenya stared at his proudly, holding her head up high. "Lord Stark," she demurred at his impertinence, "pray move, you are holding my way."

"How dare you speak like that to me?" the man hissed, skin reddening beneath his greying beard.

"Nay, my lord, how dare you treat me thus?" she questioned back harshly. The walls of Harrenhal would be joined by a new ghost if he continued on his path, Visenya swore to herself.

But the man, her superior in strength and cunning, had little trouble catch her and thrusting her to the wall, out his path. "You may be a king's get, but are still a bastard, and I shall never make way a bastard."

ii. The King sent the spider on his way as soon as his daughter came into his tent. Visenya looked at him with tearful eyes and a hurt expression upon her face. Rhaegar rose from his seat and strode towards her, taking his daughter by the arm. "Why do you cry, child?"

"'Tis just folly," she claimed, pulling herself away and moving towards a low stool. "Father, why must I attend the tourney?"

"Because you are my daughter, Visenya, and I wish to know you close." The explanation produced a smile on her lips. "Now tell me, who has upset you?"

"No one that matters," she answered. A small smile graced her lips afterwards.

iii. Among the sons of Brandon Stark, the oldest was the best jouster. Visenya watched with avid eyes as he rode against a member of House Lannister. Beside her, Berengaria Whent was laughing softly. "They say he could take down a giant," she whispered to Visenya, "and I would have to agree."

Confused, Visenya turned to look at the other woman. "A giant?"

"His father's son he is, that one," another woman commented, her skin colouring pleasantly.

The Lannister foe was fallen. The man fell from his horse and landed on his arse in the dirt. Visenya clapped her hands for her cousin's victory.

Errol Stark took off his helm and looked towards her, dark blue eyes and flaming red hair finally free of contraptions. He smiled wolfishly, took a flower his squire had brought him and threw towards her.

iv. Aegon scowled. "Why did you accept it?" he demanded, his hand reaching out for her prize. Visenya hissed at him and retreated but a step, hiding the flower behind her back.

"It is but a gift, brother. It means nothing," she replied in kind. Not even father had paid it much mind. Teasing Aegon was so much fun though. Visenya could not help but smile. "Should you not watch over dear Rhaenys? Cousin Errol might wish to present her with a flower as well."

"Leave your sister be, Aegon," their father spoke, coming into the tent. "As for you, young lady, have a care for the eyes that watch you."

v. Rhaenys gave her a cold look and clutched Aegon's arm as if Visenya might steal it away. Unable to resist the urge, Visenya rolled her eyes, scoffed and looked away. From a few tabled away, Errol held up a cup towards her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Her uncle, Lord Stark, was glowering at her.

Words were exchanged between father and son. Visenya could see that Brandon did not appreciate whatever his heir was telling him. But Errol, seemingly unconcerned, stood up from his seat and strode towards her. He bowed and held a hand out. "A dance, my lady?"

Visenya glanced back at her father. He was listening to something Varys was telling him and paid her no mind. Licking her lips, she slowly turned back towards her cousin. "A dance, cousin," Visenya agreed.

vi. "Everyone is staring," she noted as Errol twirled her.

"Let them," came his reply. "Did you see the look upon my father's face?"

"I saw," Visenya laughed. "Why do you insist upon angering him so?"

Her dear cousin shrugged. "Some people deserved to be angered. And perhaps that none more than he."

It was because of Robyn Snow, Visenya reckoned. Robyn Snow, who was currently hiding in one of the dark corners, had been born to Brandon Stark and a Ryswell girl that had died in childbed. Robyn Iceheart she was called for her frosty demeanour.

The music came to an end.

vii. "My, it must be true that those alike flock together," Rhaenys laughed lightly when she found Robyn in Visenya's tent. The Princess threw at her sister's feet a small wooden box. "I told father I would give you that." And then she left.

"Is she always that spiteful?" Robyn questioned, picking the small box up and holding it out to Visenya in a proper manner.

"Nay, I imagine she was holding back on account of my having company," Visenya laughed boisterously. There was no reason to show that she'd been hurt. Rhaenys would not stop.

"Come now, open it," her cousin urged.

And Visenya did.

viii. Catelyn Tully Stark held her youngest child on her lap, a dainty girl in the likeness of her father, and tried to keep the child still. Berena Stark, however, had plans of her own and they did not involve sitting on her mother's lap and having her hair combed.

"I do see why that should be a problem, Lady Blackfyre," the woman addressed Visenya politely, but coldly. "You may, of course, send for you things at Winterfell, Robyn."

"There is no need for that, Lady Stark," Robyn assured her father's wife, her famed icy countenance on display.

"Are you certain His Majesty has agreed?" Lady Stark questioned one more time.

"Aye, my lady," Visenya answered.

"It's not fair!" Berena cried. "I want to stay too."

xix. Raya Stark still sported the crown of Queen of Love and Beauty that her brother had placed atop her flaming hair. She looked on unsmilingly as her father's bastard daughter and the King's bastard child filled the trunks with dresses and shawls.

She would never understand the propensity of men to father children on women not their wives. The other two young women worked happily on their task. Raya looked down at her embroidery and thought about what she had heard of Lyanna Stark. Daughter had not taken after mother in looks, yet the way she acted could have come from no other.

"Lady Raya," Visenya Blackfyre called out, "my august sister desires to know if you would like to join her this evening at the high table."

x. "She's setting herself up for heartbreak, I fear, Robyn spoke of her half-sister, Raya Stark was dancing with Robert Baratheon's oldest son.

"It might do her some good," Visenya murmured, sipping some wine from her goblet.

"Visenya!" Robyn protested, her thin lips twisting in displeasure. "That boy is cruel."

The remonstration brought a flush to her cheeks and Visenya swallowed the wine. "I apologise. I did not mean to upset you. Do be of good cheer, a dance is not a death sentence."

Robyn sighed. "I cannot wait for us to depart this place."

"Soon, my dear Robyn, very soon," Visenya promised.