The sight of the Titan of Braavos fills her with nostalgia. It's been years since she last set foot in the city, and she had honestly thought she never would come back. Then again, until recently I thought I'd go back home in Aegon's campaign to conquer the Iron Throne back. How could I know the poor boy was an unwilling pretender?

For the umpteenth time since she left Pentos, Ashara's thoughts go back to where everything started for her. Harrenhal. Brandon Stark. A dance, and a night to remember.

"My lady", the eldest Stark son whispers as they dance, "would you save my brother a set? Poor lad is too shy to ask any lady on his own, and I think being seen with one as lovely as you would do him great favors."

She giggles and looks over at the Stark table. Lyanna Stark is busy messing with one of her brothers' hair, while another watches them with a small smile. "Which one?", she asks Brandon.

He twirls her. "The one who is not being thoroughly humiliated as we speak. His name is Eddard, but we all call him Ned." He pulls her closer. Can he feel her heart race? "Of course, I'd love to come back to you afterwards."

"I'll hold on to your word, my lord", she whispers back.

Brandon brings her to his family's table and introduces her to Ned. Lyanna's eyes shine with mischief, and for a moment she pities the poor man. If the Stark girl is as wild as she has shown herself to be within her first hours in Harrenhal, her brother won't know peace for quite some time.

Ned is sweet, even though he doesn't make her insides twist as his brother does. At the end of the set, she gently nudges him to approach a girl from the Westerlands who is standing near them, and waits for Brandon to come back. He does.

The tourney goes on, and she and Brandon meet in the dark hours. At first, they do nothing but talk, but one night he kisses her, and things escalate rather quickly. "I don't want to marry the Tully girl", he confesses, voice husky. "Not when I could have you."

Sadly, things are not as they want. Just like Lyanna Stark has to wed Robert Baratheon, Brandon Stark must wed Catelyn Tully, and there is nothing any of them can do about it. They don't see each other on their last night in the castle. She didn't expect them to, not when Brandon is mad that Prince Rhaegar crowned his sister Queen of Love and Beauty despite his wife being right there. Instead of looking for him, she goes for Elia. "How are you feeling?", she asks as soon as she makes sure they are alone. Ashara is not Elia's only lady-in-waiting, but she has no intention of talking about that in front of the others.

"Disappointed, mostly", she replies quietly. "Rhaegar… he's been obsessed with the Avatar's rebirth for a while. He somehow convinced himself he is to be their father, and after he found out about some 'song of ice and fire' prophecy, he's set on finding an icebender to bed. Poor Lyanna. I hope he at least tells her of his true intentions when the time comes."

Ashara blinks. "Do you think he'd… kidnap her?"

She shakes her head. "I want to believe my husband has not gone mad enough to abduct her. No, I think he plans to take her as mistress or second wife. Not sure how, though, given she is to wed Robert Baratheon." She sighs. "I just hoped he'd be a bit more discreet about all of this. I can think of a dozen other ways he could have courted her that didn't involve such a big scandal."

"But what about you, Elia? He humiliated you with that stunt."

"At least half of the realm thinks I'm fine with it because Dornish are famous for taking lovers and siring bastards", she replies with an eye roll. "Never mind that I'm a princess regardless of my marriage to Rhaegar, and should be treated with a little more respect. Anyway, I already expected he'd make advances on Lyanna, or whatever other icebender lady he might have found here. I've made peace with it, in a way. But I thought he was smarter than this. Clearly I overestimated him."

There is no anger in her voice, only the disappointment she claims to be feeling. For a moment, Ashara contemplates going to her brother and asking him to knock some sense into his prince's head. Can't he see the damage he inflicts with his actions? All for the sake of bringing a legendary figure to life?

Oh, Elia; oh, Lyanna. To this day, she doesn't know if the Northern girl was aware of Rhaegar's plans, or whether she went willingly or not. She remembers Elia guessing she did, but by the time any of them could have gotten an answer, Ashara was long gone.

Arthur often joked she was too much of an airhead for a lavabender. Bad puns, sure, but they weren't really untrue. She noticed her morning sickness before realizing her moon blood had missed twice. "Go back to Starfall, Ashara", Elia said, hugging her.

"I don't want to leave you alone", she says sincerely. Cersei had already been taken back home after her twin was made Kingsguard; for all her faults, the girl was company, and she didn't want Elia to be isolated in times like this.

"Larra is still here", her friend replies. "And I'll sleep better at night if you are safe in your home." She then lowers her voice. "Do you know who the father is?"

She nods. "Brandon Stark."

Elia's face gets impossibly tender. "Oh, my friend." She wants to cry. Brandon had just been killed by King Aerys. Burned by wildfire after being forced to watch his father's death, hands tied to prevent him from using icebending to heal his injuries.

Ashara stayed the entire war hidden away in Starfall, as her belly grew in size. She decided, back then, to not stain Brandon's memory by naming the child Frost; it'd be far too easy to connect the dots, and Catelyn Tully did not deserve this. She'd honor her beloved by granting their child a Northern name: Cregan for a boy, Arya for a girl.

But then, as if losing her child's father wasn't enough…

"I'm so sorry, my lady", the maester says. "She came to the world already lifeless."

She wants to scream. Let out the loudest cry she can muster. Why, why did the gods take her daughter away from her? She was all she had left of Brandon. Instead, she sobs quietly, too exhausted for anything else. "Arya Magma", she whispers to the moon. "Mama won't ever forget you."

She manages to stay strong for the months that follow, more for her family's sake than hers. She is Lady of Starfall, now that her parents are dead and Arthur has sworn off lordship since he took the white cloak. Her sister is a child that needs to be take care of, and her brothers are out in the field.

Allar Dayne, her eldest brother, comes back safely. When their family's ancestral sword comes back, however, it is not Arthur who carries it, but Ned Stark. "He fought valiantly to the end", he tells as he hands her the sword. There is a child with him, with dark hair and grey eyes.

She stares at the baby boy for long. "Lyanna's?", she asks in a whisper, because, after all this bloodshed, she actually hopes the damn Avatar is reborn.

"You can't tell anyone", he begs. "I'll pose him as my bastard. Robert will have him killed otherwise."

"The secret dies with me", she reassures. "Not even my siblings will know."

However, as she places Dawn on its resting place, everything becomes too much. Too many secrets to keep, no one to share them with. Elia is gone, raped and killed by one of Tywin Lannister's men. Rhaenys and Aegon are dead too, and so are Rhaegar and Aerys (though she could kiss Ser Jaime Lannister for killing the madman). She doesn't know where the other ladies-in-waiting are: at home, in a grave, or married off.

She can't tell a soul who Arya's father is (was). She can't tell anyone who Jon Frost's real parents are (were). Hells, for all she knows, her very pregnancy is a secret too, given she went back home before she started showing. The safest way to keep all those secrets is to silence herself. And, honestly, there is no use staying alive anymore. Her siblings aren't benders, alright, but both of their parents were; between the two of them, at least one child will lavabend. Allar has talent for administration; he doesn't need her, and he can take care of Allyria just fine. Nothing holds her back anymore. With that in mind, she takes one last look at the sky before jumping straight to the sea.

Of course, now that she looks back, maybe throwing herself into the sea wasn't the best idea if she wanted to assure she wouldn't survive. Instead of drowning, she instinctively swam to the surface. Before she could process that she sabotaged her own suicide attempt, a ship passed by, and the sailors threw a rope in her direction.

"What is your name, girl?", the captain asks after she is properly cleaned.

She hesitates. She knows she doesn't want to give her own name; while bathing, she concluded it's best if everyone deems her as dead. Nothing good can come of her coming back home. "June" she replies, telling him the first name she can think of. "June Sand."

He doesn't ask why she was found by the Dayne's castle; no one does. It's better this way. The ship stops in Braavos, and, for the first time in months, she genuinely wonders what her next step will be.

Life in Braavos was far from easy. She lost count of how many times she was offered a job as a whore in the docks, until a kind baker took her in. She learned the native language in the course of her first year in the city, and slowly things got better. She found herself smiling again, although timidly, and there was purpose in her days. She'd still cry over Arya, Brandon and Arthur. She'd dream of a life in Winterfell, married to Brandon (though it was likely that they would go to Starfall instead, given her ladyship status) while Catelyn wedded Ned—which is what happened anyway—carrying Arya around and making sure Jon Frost was loved; gods know if Ned's poor wife will be able to, believing him to be her husband's bastard. But life got easier, and the bad days were more bearable.

And then her life took another unexpected turn.

It's her turn to sell bread at the docks. Not her favorite day: too many men try to get her into their beds. It's been four years, and she's gotten used to it, but it's still rather irritating—and disappointing; shouldn't she be famous as the Frigid Bread Seller, or something of the sort, at this point?

Regardless, she goes through the day as usual. She wears her hair in a tight bun to avoid recognition; by now, she has learned dying her hair in lighter colors doesn't work that well, and draws more attention than intended. Black hair is rather common in Braavos, and while purple eyes are not, she can always claim lyseni ancestry. Her fair skin has gotten slightly darker over the years of sun exposure—an odd thing to say as a Dornish, but Starfall has never been as sunny as Sunspear.

Nobody has ever called her by anything other than June—she's ultimately decided against using a Westerosi bastard surname, and chose to not have one. If anyone has ever suspected she's not who she claims to be—a Lyseni merchant's daughter who lost her home in a fire—they did not act on it. Over the years, she let her guard down a bit on the matter, upon realizing no one is looking for a dead woman.

So she walks through crowded streets and pavements, working. Her cart is nearly empty when she comes across the first familiar face she's seen since she fled her home.

Jon Connington. She remembers him from her time at court. They danced together once or twice in Harrenhal, and he was Rhaegar's friend. What is he doing here?

She tries to find a place to hide, but it is too late. He is staring at her. "Ashara?", he calls. She runs.

She smiles at the memory. Jon eventually caught her, even brought her cart back—she had left it behind in her hurry to escape him. They sat down and talked about their lives post-war. At one point, Jon throws a reveal on her feet: Elia's son Aegon was alive.

"Lord Varys switched him with a similarly-looking baby", he explains. "A little before the sack of the city. Then he brought him to a Pentoshi magister, who arranged to block his chi and hide his bending so he wouldn't be discovered. I was contacted when he was five years old. I was a sellsword at the time. Worked for the Golden Company. I knew he was Rhaegar's son as soon as I laid eyes on him, and… how could I say no?"

He proceeds to tell all about his work on raising Aegon to be the best king possible—the kind of king Jon was sure Rhaegar would be, had he had the chance. She doesn't tell him she disagrees; Jon's feelings for the late prince are clear in his voice, and what good can come of her voicing her negative opinions? Rhaegar is dead, but Aegon is not, and there is a chance to make things right.

Afterwards, Jon offers a place on the ship. "You knew his parents", he says. "Especially Elia. And… you were Lady of Starfall, weren't you? Raised to be it since Arthur joined the Kingsguard?" She nods. "So, you already know more about ruling than I do. Most of my knowledge is theoretical, since I didn't have much time to be lord of my home. By the way, why are you here? Rumour has it that you died."

She tells him her story. When she finishes, he simply says, "I guess you need a disguise, then."

By sundown, she has quit her job and sold her home—it's surprisingly easy to find someone willing to buy a tiny house. Disguised as a septa—not even Aegon knows who she is, per her own request—she goes abroad to the Shy Maid and begins a new chapter of her life.

Her years as Septa Lemore were good. She taught Aegon everything she knew about the Faith of the Seven and about ruling a castle. Jon revealed to be a good friend, and the other men on board treated her well. Aegon grew up to be a fine man, and her wish to put him on the Iron Throne increased—the realm needs a king like him, she thought.

However, like her relationship with Brandon, some things are just not meant to be. Her jaw still clenches at the memory of Illyrio's admission that Aegon was actually a Blackfyre—his son—and so was Varys. What really hurt, though, was Aegon's reaction upon finding out his whole life was a lie. No wonder he left to wander alone. Even though Jon and Ashara had lived in the dark too, he was the truly harmed one.

Afterwards, figuring her next step was rather easy.

Jon offers to bring her to Griffin's Roost. "I was exiled by Aerys, but never gathered the courage to return when Robert took the throne. Now that he's dead, I can try to bargain for a pardon. Do you want to come? You can take Starfall back; I'm sure your family would be glad to know you are alive. We can even marry, if you think it'd be good for you."

She feels her newly strengthened bending through her feet. Can feel the lava buried deep down on the ground. It's all so new, it's distracting. But she shakes her head. "I'd love to go back home. I'm not the woman I was when I tried to end my life, and I know my return would be appreciated. But… I know too many secrets, Jon, some of which I haven't even told you. Coming home will raise questions I won't be able to answer."

Rhaegar's plan to bring the Avatar back. His bastard son with Lyanna, who is hidden as Ned Stark's. Aegon's story and identity—being a Blackfyre doesn't mean he's out of danger. The sudden awakening of his powers and hers, which she plans to investigate. Her stillborn daughter. The story behind Arthur's death, if she is right to think Ned didn't disclose the full story of what happened—it is obvious when you know the truth about Lyanna, but she has a feeling it's not the case for most of the realm. Returning home is not an option, no matter how much she wished it was. So she wishes Jon good luck and takes a different ship. Time to go back to Braavos, where it all began.

Sadly, the bakery she worked at closed after its owner's death, but she finds a job in an inn, so it's all good. As for a house, she finds out the Iron Bank has a rent system, where you pay to live in a house they own. It's not ideal—she wishes she had her own home—but it's the best she can afford, at least until she saves enough money.

She cuts her hair short this time, even though she doubts anyone will recognize her again. It's been fifteen years since she supposedly died; if nobody looked for her then, nobody will now. She trusts Jon to keep her existence a secret, and it's not like Aegon will know what to do with the information that a random member of House Dayne didn't actually die. She's pretty sure neither Illyrio nor Varys figured out, since she didn't visibly lavabend in the former's house—she moved the lava underground, but never really brought it to surface.

Braavos has lava underneath as well; she often takes a moment or two during the day to sit down and feel it under her feet. She rarely does anything else, though; bringing it to surface would cause a good deal of damage to the ground, and it would surely out her. Lavabending is extremely rare in Essos, the rarest firebending form; if people saw her doing it, even so far east, the first thing they'd think was if she is from House Dayne of Westeros—and one look at her would give them the answer.

So she goes on with her life once again, using the same disguise from before. Whenever someone asks what she had been doing all these years—a rare occasion, given most people she regularly interacted with are no longer around—she replies she had found a remnant of her family, and stayed with them until they died as well, which is why she's back. They give her condolences and forget about her. Life is back to normal, and she's fairly content.

Until things turn upside down again.

He looks too familiar for her tastes. Classical Stark looks, and she estimates his age to be something between fourteen and seventeen years old. Is he… Lyanna's son?

Of course, there are many other possibilities. He may be a son of Ned's—an actual son—or his nephew through one of his brothers (maybe even Brandon's, if her memory is right regarding his womanizer reputation—yes, she's aware she's not the only woman he bedded), or even a Karstark. She reminds herself of all those options over and over again as she watches him in the inn's reception, as he orders a drink.

But what is a Northern boy doing here in Braavos? He does not look like a lord, so she doubts he is here for business. Perhaps he ran away from home? She can think of plenty of reasons for doing so. Still, there is a feeling settled in her gut. She still remembers the sight of Lyanna's baby when Ned Stark showed up to deliver Dawn to her. Although one can argue that all babies look roughly the same, the familiarity still strikes her. And so does the memory of Elia telling her about that damned prophecy. If this boy truly is the Avatar reborn, it makes sense for him to leave Winterfell and travel around the world. But shouldn't he reveal himself as such? Unless he's still hiding his parentage. But why would he? Last she heard, King Robert—the reason why Ned posed the boy as his bastard—died.

I'm going mad, she thinks. Years being unable to bend are driving me insane. That's the only explanation. I shouldn't even be paying this much attention to a random boy. Still, she can't look away.

Well, damn. There is a way to figure this out and give her mind a rest. She leaves her post as bartender—she's not exactly obliged to be stuck there all day—and walks to him, trying not to march. She's heard him talk enough to know he speaks Common Tongue (she wouldn't be this suspicious otherwise), so she doesn't bother speaking in Bravoosi dialect. "May I help you?"

He blinks, clearly not expecting someone to speak his language, but smiles—it's Brandon's smile, oh gods—and says, "No, ma'am, I'm good. But if I need something, I suppose I talk to you, aye?"

She nods, then takes a deep breath. It's now or never. "Forgive me if I'm too intrusive, but you look… eerily familiar. Are you, in any way, related to the Starks of Winterfell?"

His eyes widen, but he nods. "Jon Frost, Lord Stark's bastard son."

For the Seven, I was right! The inn spins around her, and she holds the empty chair across him to avoid falling back. Jon Frost—no, he should be Jon Fyre, shouldn't he—stands up and holds her by the shoulders. "Are you alright, ma'am?", he asks. She blinks, and the view gets clearer.

She takes a deep breath. "I know who you are", she whispers. "Who you really are." Because, if Ned never told him, she is damn well going to. He's fifteen, and out in the world; he deserves to know the truth.

However, Jon seems surprised, but not particularly shocked. "How?", he whispers back.

"Let's talk in your room", she suggests. "I can take a break from here."

"I think", she says when he locks the door, "I should start saying that no, I didn't hear any rumours about your identity."

He sighs, clearly relieved. "I'm glad. I was scared for a moment that word had reached Essos. Things are troubled already in Westeros. Anyway, how do you know then? What do you know?"

She breathes in and out. "I know you are Lyanna Stark's son with Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. As for how I know this… there are things I should tell you about myself, so you can understand."

He nods. "Okay. Go on."

She sits on the bed before continuing. "I was once one of Princess Elia Martell's ladies-in-waiting. You have heard of her, haven't you?" He nods. "Good. We were close friends and confidants, and my position made me follow her almost everywhere she went. Have you ever heard of the story of the tourney of Harrenhal?"

He glances away for a moment, and then back at her. "Yes. It was where my father crowned my mother Queen of Love and Beauty in front of his wife, right?"

"Exactly. I was there. It was where I met your mother and your uncles. In fact… I had an affair with your uncle Brandon there, which left me pregnant." He blinks in surprise, but says nothing, so she goes on. "Sadly, I only realized it months later, when Brandon was already dead, and the rebellion had just begun. Elia dismissed me for my protection, and I stayed at home for the whole war. I gave birth to a stillborn daughter. Arya Magma, I named her. I fell into deep grief afterwards, but I was head of my house back then, and had many responsibilities on my shoulders, so I kept going… until your uncle showed up with you in one arm and my brother's sword in the other.

"It wasn't hard to put two and two together, that the baby—you—was Lyanna's son. I knew she was hidden away pregnant, and the timing fit perfectly. Ned made me swear secrecy and told me he'd claim you as his bastard. I already had other secrets to keep, and the weight of losing a daughter and a brother was too much." She looks at her hands. "I attempted suicide on that night."

She inhales, and the pause seems to be what Jon needed to pierce all information together. "Wait", he says, "are you… Ashara Dayne?"

Wait, what? "Now is my turn to ask: how did you figure that out?"

He bites his lip. "For three years, I grew up as my uncle's son. Things changed after I firebent for the first time… but that's not the point right now. Point is, everyone tried to guess who my mother was, and for a while the main suspect was you. Over the years I gathered pieces of information about the war and people involved in my birth and infancy. When I asked why you never came clean about the rumours you were my mother, Aunt Catelyn told me how you died—well, supposedly died. She also told me how you looked, which fits the woman I'm seeing right now. And I've heard about Arthur Dayne and his sword Dawn, how it is only wielded by master lavabenders. It all fits with your story."

She wants to ask how he knows about Arthur, since he didn't give a specific name, but stops herself; it's not important now. "I can see how people would think Ned and I would have an affair. We did dance together at the tourney, and we got along fine. But no, they got the wrong Stark. Anyway, I obviously survived my attempt, and got rescued by a ship passing by. I was afraid of returning home, due to the very secrets I had to keep, so I decided to let people think I died, and hid here."

She decides not to tell him about Aegon for now. It's too soon, and there is a more pressing issue anyway. "But I'm sorry Jon, you said your parentage was revealed because you firebent. How is that you are still posing as Ned's bastard?"

He chuckles. "Aunt Cat suggested sending me to the Wall. Uncle Benjen already served there, and Maester Aemon Targaryen is still alive, so I'd have a teacher. He took me in and trained me… well, my lady, I'm not sure if you know anything about this, but Maester Aemon highly suspected I was the Avatar reborn, due to a number of prophecies that I fit perfectly."

She coughs. "Actually, it's one of the secrets I kept." He frowns. "You surely know, by now, that Rhaegar conceived you precisely because he thought it was his duty to bring the Avatar to the world."

He huffs. "So I've heard. He went all the wrong way with that, even if it worked."

Oh, so he is the Avatar, indeed. It's a relief, honestly; it means the war wasn't all for nothing. "I agree with you. Elia was fairly disappointed in his methods, even if she understood his reasoning, and confided in me about it. I wasn't surprised when I received news of his and your mother's disappearance. Elia only hoped Lyanna knew the truth about why Rhaegar wanted her."

Jon shrugs. "Uncle Ned claims she didn't look like she regretted having run away with him, but she didn't live long enough for him to ask, so it's all a wild guess." He shakes his head. "Anyway, I am the Avatar. Found out when I was eight and icebent by accident. I was trained in waterbending for, what, six or seven years until I mastered all forms of it. It took all these years to find a teacher of another element… Have you ever heard of Jaime Lannister?"

"The Kingsguard who had enough balls to kill the Mad King?", she asks before she can stop herself. Wait, Aerys is his grandfather!

But Jon grins. "Glad to know someone appreciates it. Well, long story short, he was sent to the Wall early this year, and he was my metalbending teacher. But then we got attacked by wights—"

"I'm sorry, what?"

He then tells her about Northern legends regarding the Others and the undead, things she only heard about when she was a child. He proceeds to explain how he and Lannister fought a wight and brought the body to the Night's Watch. It's clear he's skipping some details, especially when he tells her about his decision to finally leave the Wall to find other teachers, but she trusts his judgement that those details are not important at the moment. "Of course, Ser Jaime could not follow me out of Westeros. I had other companions, but they had to stay behind as well."

"I see", she replies. "And what are you planning to do here in Braavos?"

He runs a hand through his curly hair. "Find answers? I mean, I've mastered firebending, metalbending, and all waterbending forms save for bloodbending, and I'm a good airbender and sandbender, but there are many other elements to master before I can become a fully realized Avatar, and I fear my time is running out. I know Braavos is the most diverse out of the Free Cities, and for many reasons staying in Westeros is not safe for me at the moment, so I figured Braavos is the best place to start my search. Although I spent some time in Pentos, as it was where the ship I boarded in a hurry stopped at." Then he smiles. "Correct me if I'm wrong, my lady, but you are a lavabender, right?"

She chuckles. "Yes." She doesn't explain her ability was nearly non-existent until a few months ago. "I've kept it hidden, of course, but I know enough to teach you, even if I'm nowhere near my brother in terms of talent."

"That's more than I ever hoped, honestly. Er… do you know where I can find a place to live? I don't have coin to stay too long in this inn."

As if I'd let you wander around, child. "You can stay at my home, Jon."

His eyes light up. "Really?"

"Of course. It's the least I can do, and I feel we have a lot to tell each other still." She stands up. "Pack your things. My shift ends at sundown."