As far as she could remember, her dreams had haunted her.
At first, Alyssa had not understand why she was not simply dead - she vividly remembered being tossed through the Veil of Death while she barely fought to keep her life. She had been so tired of people's expectations and what they wanted from her: always seeking to control her one way or another because of the power she had been bestowed by a Deity she had never cared for before meeting them. Voldemort's death had been like a balm to her heart and she would never forget how she had cried her eyes out over the fact she had finally avenged her parents and her beloved godfather.
Being a baby...had been complicated at first. Her mother, her beautiful and fierce mother had done what no other parent would like to do: as soon as she saw her tan skin, her white hair and her beautiful purple eyes, she knew she would be bartered and put into danger by Aerys and his ilk. She could hear people attending to the Dornish princess, and even though she did not understand what was happening around her, she knew they were in some sort of danger. She barely had the time to memorize her mother's face before she was given to Ashara Dayne who sailed to Starfall and summoned the Martell brothers, giving them a letter and instruction to protect her Rhaenyra.
It would only be after her visions started that she would understand why her mother had smirked when naming her. Rhaegar Targaryen had been obsessed by some prophecy (fool, fool, fool. Just like Dumbledore and Voldemort - all of them pathetic men who lose themselves in stupid matters and would look down on women when they can do a great deal of a better job than them.) He wanted his third head of a dragon and name her Visenya of all things and have her marry her siblings.
Don't get her wrong, she would have loved them with all her heart, but she had trouble imagining herself bedding her twin brother to bring abominations into the world. Keeping the blood pure for dragons made sense when they were dragons around - and besides, had they never heard of cousins?
Soon after, as she was trying to act like an innocent and sweet babe (which wasn't easy), war broke out. Her idiotic sire (not father, she refused to see him as a Father when he left her and her siblings at the whims of other people, not when James Potter had stupidly fought Voldemort to save her life for the sake of another prophecy, not when Sirius Black had fallen through the same Veil as her because of her mistakes, not when Lily Evans had poured through every grimoire within the Potter and Peverell libraries to find a way to keep her safe at the risk of condemning her soul to eternal damnation). Even though she had barely been a child, she could still recall the anger she had felt when she had seen Rhaegar bring his wolf bitch into Dorne - even worse, the Tower of Joy, the last gift from Lorenza Martell to her only child, Elia.
Her uncles, Doran and Oberyn had been perplexed by Ashara Dayne's words, but apparently, bribing a septon about a wedding and killing him after in order to protect their sister's child was not above them.
They had been right to do so.
The fair lady with eyes as purple as hers did not live long: she lost a child, a daughter who she could've claimed as another sister jumped from Starfall, never to be seen again. Arthur Dayne, a man people would speak of for years to come, but whom she personally hated with all her heart, had been brought back to be buried and some dark part of her had wanted to cackle.
Lyanna Stark died, shamed and bloody while her brother held her hand and prayed for her well-being.
Rhaegar Targaryen died with her name on his lips - never knowing he had already been gifted the third head he had so wished for.
Rhaenys, precious Rhaenys whom she had only gotten a glimpse of before being spirited away on a ship had been stabbed a hundred times.
Aegon, the future King, had been thrown onto a wall with his head bashed in.
She could have forgiven Robert Baratheon for the Sack of King's Landing - he had been chasing after a whore who didn't hesitate to jump into bed with a married man, but he had been following his code of honor. But when presented with the body of the fallen Targaryens, he had only laughed and boomed with his loud voice: I see nothing but dragonspawn.
Had they known better, they surely would've noticed Elia Nymeros Martell, Princess of Dorne and descendants of Queens and Conquerors died with a victorious smile on her face, knowing one one children lived on. Knowing they would avenge her with Fire & Blood.
But Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark had died without paying for what they had done: most would disagree with her, for they both perished, but it grated her that no one knew the truth. What had the Crown Prince been thinking? The Faith had refused a second Queen back when fucking Maegor had demanded it and he had the backing of Balerion - you know, the greatest dragon Westeros had ever seen? If she could, she would throttle her father and wring her "stepmother's", but they were both out of their reach. Nonetheless, it didn't mean that she would not get her revenge one way or another.
Rhaenyra had been luckier than most: if she had been born anywhere else than in Dorne, she would have been underestimated and pushed aside. No, here, they taught her everything she could, and even though it was considered cheating, she brought inventions and innovations from her own world, eager to show the rest of Westeros how much they had underestimated Dorne and House Martell.
She knew that her uncles wanted her to take back her throne, but she refused. Why would she? Aerys had been horrible to her mother, Rhaegar had betrayed her, Viserys was in Essos being crazy and hurting his sister...No, she would not rally any kingdom for a claim they would never like under the heel of a Dornish Queen in her own right.
But...
But the last true heir of Rhaegar wasn't just a dragon, she was also a snake - a snake that had the ability to see the future. A snake that had seen what might befall this realm if she hadn't been born or if she had been killed by some Maester who wanted to make sure their House disappeared once and for all.
Perhaps it was selfish of her not to help anyone, but she would so enjoy seeing Westeros crumble. The only issue was her half-brother (his mother had dared call him Aegon, like her twin - already eager to push the Dornish aside and get a crown on her head at the expense of others). Some part of her wanted to hate him for what he was, but she knew her mother, sweet as the blood oranges native of their homeland and as deadly as any poison that Oberyn could make would berate her for it. She would wish for her to be open-minded and welcome him with open arms. Even that hadn't been enough to sway her towards generosity.
Delving into the future of House Stark made her puke: did the lions have no honor? No shame? Beheading the Hand of the King on the Sept of Baelor, desecrating a place of worship, hurting and bartering with Sansa's life, Arya at the House of Black and White, Bran losing his legs, Rickon dying by an arrow and worst of all, the violation of Guest Rights at the Twins and the murder of Robb and Catelyn.
Rhaenyra knew she was one of the prettiest woman in the realm, rumors of her wit and precociousness spread around the known world - but few would be brave enough to try to win the affection of the daughter of the Red Viper. It was also safe to say that every Dornish - men and women - knew who's daughter she really was, but few would dare speak about it. She looked the perfect mix of Rhoynar and Valyrian, but it was a close kept secret: since she hadn't been announced to the realm, people would think it was a vicious rumor with no clear founding. She suspected the Spider to do something about it, but he was a Blackfyre that wanted to put his own nephew on the throne while masquerading as her twin and she wouldn't stand for it.
Lord Eddard Stark looked at her mesmerized, but did not dare speak. She knew they would be taken to his solar accompanied by his lady wife and she couldn't wait for their talk. Northerners were known for their honor and abruptness - there had never been a war between their kingdoms, but it didn't mean they liked each other.
"It's an honor to meet you," she told her potential suitor as she curtsied in front of him. She could already tell he was interested in her, but he was a bit sceptical, and perhaps, did not wish for such a match. No matter, she had lived a long life before this one, and even though she had never been promiscuous, she knew a thing or two about ensraring a man in a web of his own making.
She tried not to look at Jon Snow, or as she knew him - Aegon. They had the same nose and cheekbones, that she had noticed from her visions, but he looked positively Stark, aside from his dark eyes that would glow purple had they been under the sun. Rhaenyra stopped her musings when she noticed their host walking as fast as possible towards a safe space to talk to the Dornish party - and even though she found it rude to be asked to follow him before she could take a proper bath or change into another dress, she acted as if nothing bothered her.
Winterfell was austere: it reminded her eerily of Hogwarts - and she even felt some latent magic within the Keep. The white haired princess promised herself she would look more into it when she had the time. If she had the time actually.
"I shall have no dragon within my kingdom," almost growled Eddard Stark as soon as the solar door closed. "I don't know how it's possible, princess, but you are Elia and Rhaegar's daughter and have no need for you here."
Robb and Catelyn looked at him perplexed and shocked while her Uncle - Father - looked ready to impale the Warden of the North and show his body to the rest of the North.
She took a deep breath and grinned, showing off her perfectly white teeth and sharp smirk. She knew herself enough to know she looked like a venomous snake ready to bear its fangs and strike. "Then it must mean I shall take my brother with me. Aegon was it ?," she dead-panned, noticing how much he paled at her words.
"WHAT ?," shouted the trout and her first born son.
"How do you know?," he finally asked, looking uncomfortable and weary of her and her presence. She touched her uncle's arm and hoped he would not antagonize their host when they hadn't even gotten their luggage yet.
With all the pettiness she could muster (and knowing how much Catelyn Stark, former Lady Catelyn Tully had hated her whole life not knowing who her bastard's mother was.) "Oh, you didn't know?," she asked, feigning innocence and outrage. "Jon Snow is no son of a tavern wench or a whore. He is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, the birth that bled the realm."
You could hear a pin drop.
