"Show him in," Jacaera replied, "and see the Maester about that leg of yours." She added.

"As you wish, Your Grace." Landry replied, a smile on his lips and left to fetch her granduncle.

She was curious to know what brought him here; if he wanted to see her father he of all people would know where to find him. A thousand eyes and one as the smallfolk would whisper, even the high lords of the realm would say the same but not to his face. Jaceara sometimes felt that her granduncle enjoyed these tall tales of his nefarious exploits but she knew in her heart that Lord Brynden Rivers would do anything within his power to keep his brother's line safe. After all, Lord Rivers was the only other Targaryen albeit a bastard who has the same condition she does. For years she had had these visions, dream-like in their nature but she could not interact with those around her in the dream, like any child she had told her mother the princess Dyanna of them but her dreams had only terrified the lady. What went through her mind then? Another Daeron? But it was only after Princess Dyanna's death did Jacaera realize that her mother wasn't terrified of another child screaming in the middle of the night, she was terrified because Jacaera showed no signs of terror from these thoughts were once again interrupted by a knock at the door but before she could grant entry the door opened. There stood Lord Brynden Rivers, pale and thin, his left eye lost during the first Blackfyre Rebellion to his half-brother Aegor Rivers. Jacaera noticed the hilt of the famed ancestral sword Dark Sister on his scabbard, the sword she often dreamed of wielding one day.

"I see you admiring Dark Sister," said her granduncle as he approached her while unsheathing the ancestral blade, "have a look for yourself, see how it fits you." He added, presenting her the sword with both hands.

Jacaera stood up and held its hilt, surprised as to how light it was and Lord Rivers took notice.

"It was made for a woman to wield." He said as she gripped the sword.

Jacaera studied the blade before her, admiring the amethyst jewel forged at the center of its hilt. Her admiration of the ancestral blade was interrupted when it crossed her mind that her granduncle had been distracting her on the subject of his visit. She lightly hands him back Dark Sister and he sheathes it on the scabbard by his side.

"To what does my father owe this visit to?" She asked, assuming it had something to do with her father.

"I know about the dreams," Lord Rivers replied without hesitation, "but they aren't dreams, child." He added.

She was anxious as to what he meant, surely mother and father kept it a secret but Jacaera knew better. In her dreams there was often a crow with three eyes travelling with her, caw caw caw it went as if guiding her through these dreams. Her mind returned to reality, and faced her uncle's thin face and missing eye.

"I see very clearly in these dreams," Jacaera said, breaking the silence, "much clearer than I do now."

"They're not dreams, child."

"There's a three-eyed crow, as if it's guiding me through them."

"I know."

"How would you-"

"How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have?" A chill came from the nape of her neck.

"A thousand eyes and one." Jacaera did not hesitate for deep down she knew her uncle had kept watch over her all these years. "Who else knows?" she asked, wondering if there were others who kept it from her.

"You're aunt Shiera," he replied, "and you're grandfather, my brother." Lord Rivers added with a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Your mother knew, for it was she who came to me for counsel just as she had done for your brother Daeron."

So, you counselled her to keep it from me and not even attempt to teach me how to control them?

"Was there something that triggered it?" He asked, the question stunned her mildly and silence followed.

"When I was three, we sailed for Dragonstone to visit Uncle Baelor," Jacaera began lowly, "at the time when Uncle Rhaegel and Aunt Alys were visiting him, he'd written that Aunt Alys had given birth to the twins," then she added unflinchingly, "and you already know what happens next."

She remembered that day despite only being a child of three, Uncle Rhaegal and Aunt Alys were visiting Dragonstone when she went into labor and gave birth to the twins, Aelora and Alor. The family could not contain their excitement, let alone mother who insisted that they visit the new mother and father and their newborn children. Meanwhile in the capital, grandfather had been too preoccupied with the Blackfyres that he conveniently sent father to present the twins their own dragon eggs, a custom the family still observed even after the last of their dragons had passed. They had sailed to Dragonstone on Aenar, the ship named after their ancestor who escaped the doom of Valyria and settled on the foreboding castle. A sudden gust of wind came like a warning for what's to come, the next thing she knew the water had engulfed the ship, dragging it down into the endless abyss and Jacaera had started screaming, shouting for her parents even as the water had risen higher and higher mother! father! but no one heard as air was barren and the cold water hurried to devour her.

Three days had passed and they discovered her on the shores of Dragonstone while everyone else had been swept back into the mainland. Jacaera had been unconscious for a fortnight in Dragonstone, Daeron had been inconsolable watching his sister in the same state each day he visited while their mother wept silently and father consoled her. She has seen this in her dreams constantly within that fortnight and she'd scream and shout for her parents just as she had during the storm but no one could hear her. It wasn't until her father Maekar had sent the nursemaids away late one evening, and seated himself beside her, another dream? Her father spared no words but the lullaby she loved began, his baritone voice was softened when he sang, the song remained the same called The Pale Child, a lullaby from Old Valyria and when it nearly ended Jacaera opened her eyes, as if the end was over. When is it really over?

"Why are you here uncle?" she asked, trying to sound authoritative but her voice betrayed her. "From what I can tell it has nothing to do with what happened to Uncle Baelor."

"I wanted you to know that there's more to what you've seen in your visions." The older man said in a low voice. "You'll also have to interpret them by yourself, know what they mean, approach them with caution."

"Am I cursed?" Jacaera asked, not losing a beat.

"No," the thin man responded, "it's a gift."

"And what of my brother's dragon dreams are they a gift too?" She asked, venomously. "I've been in his dreams, at night when Daeron wished for me to see them for myself."

"I do not know why the gods chose to bestow this burden on Daeron, but it is you who has a say in this in the end." He could see her shifting visibly, not a care if he had taken notice. "Listen, I know it may seem like you can only see the hedges and not the trees but give it time." He leaned away from her and walked over to the window. "I have an inkling that we would see each other again very soon," Lord Rivers turned to face her, "and I will teach you all that I know."