Chapter 42: ' Your Name ' Part II

POV: Elia Martell;

Naath.

About a moon after a new Khal was chosen...

The princess of Dorne awoke to hear that noise from the door.

She was still holding her almost five year old baby Aegon in her arms. The child was still sleeping blissfully....

"Narid? Is that you?" Elia asked, thinking of the guard who was supposed to be keeping watch that night.

"Yes, princess..." Elia was disturbed for a moment....

That was the voice of Narid, one of Dorne's most skilled and loyal spears, but he spoke in a strange tone...

"My princess, you have a visitor..." Elia sprinted to the bedside table looking for her dagger.

"Do not be alarmed Princess Elia of Dorne...

I have not come here to harm you or your children." This time, it was a female voice that spoke.

"Who are you? How did you get here? Narid what is going on? Why did you let that woman in?" Elia didn't calm down for a moment hearing that answer.

"All will become clearer to you, Princess. I apologize for showing up at this late hour...Narid please come out and close the door." Said a hooded figure dressed in red.

"Yes High Priestess, Narid is at your command..." The dornian walked out bowing.

Elia was shocked by the scene she had just witnessed...

As the door closed again, Aegon Targaryen sixth in his name, began to wake up...

"Do not be alarmed, princess...this is just a little mind trick, nothing more. Narid, he will soon return to being your loyal bodyguard." Said the woman uncovering her head by lowering her hood.

"Mother... what is it?" Little Aegon asked, crinkling his eyes.

"Aegon, get behind the bed without arguing!" Elia.

"...Yes mother." The boy obeyed without thinking. After the events of King's Landing, Elia Martell, chose a stricter, less princely approach to raising her reasons for living. Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen, had practiced numerous times for possible dangerous situations.

The priestess took no notice of the normal unfolding of events. She found such a welcome more than normal.

"Princess Elia, Prince Aegon, may I light some fires in the room?

The night is dark and full of terrors." Said the woman.

Elia thought about it for a moment, then deemed it more convenient for her to see her opponent better as well, and nodded slightly.

"Swham!"

All of a sudden, twelve candles, two torches and the fireplace lit up in unison with a single wave of the Red Priestess' hand.

Now Elia could see her clearly...

A woman, barely in her thirties, shiny black hair with a black collar around her neck, decorated with a glowing fiery red ruby...

"I hope the trick on Nadir and the one I just did, answered your question 'How did you get inside the guarded fortress?' Elia of House Martell." Said the priestess in a gentle tone.

"Naath is supposed to be inaccessible to outsiders. On this island..."

"I am immune to every known disease and poison of man, Princess...and I would also like to point out, that there is another method of being immune to the 'disease of Naath'...

Would you like me to reveal to you the name of the one you and your brothers hope so much to know?" The priestess asked with a smile.

Elia's eyes widened as he heard that reply...

She lowered her blade for a moment.

"Was it you? You are the ally of House Dorne?" Elia asked hopefully.

"I would love to take the title, princess, but no.

That ally is not me, and it was not anyone of the R'hllror faith who helped you...

Nevertheless, I have heard his name in the flames..." Elia was not pleased with that answer, but she also understood that if the Priestess had really wanted to harm her or her children, she would have done so already.

She lowered the blade...

"Mother, who is the sorceress?" Aegon asked in a slightly fearful but curious tone.

"Do you wish to know my name, Prince Aegon, sixth in your name, eldest son of Prince Rheagar and rightful heir to the Iron Throne?" The priestess asked, giving a warm smile.

The child rose from his stooped pose and fixed his violet eyes on the woman's gaze. Then he nodded and asked:

"What is your name sorceress?"

"My name is Kinvara...

High Priestess of the Temple of R'hllor, leader and first guide of the Lord of Light's faith.

I come from Volantis, my prince. I have come to Naath to meet you and swear my eternal loyalty to you." Kinvara said with a slight bow.

Aegon thought about Kinvara's words for a moment and then asked, with all the genuineness and innocence a child of his age should have:

"Why?

Why do you want to swear allegiance to me, Kinvara?"

"Because you are the chosen one of my Lord R'hllor.

The Champion who will wield 'Lightbringer'.

The one who will lead the forces of life against the armies of the cold dark night."

End POV.

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POV: Jenny, born and raised in the village of Snow Mill;

About two miles from Casterly Rock.

Two weeks before hundreds of White Crows flew from the High Tower of the Citadel....

"Captain, are the men in position?" Jenny asked the Frost Blade at her side.

"Yes, Miss Jenny. The scouts are warning us that within 2 hours the four Lannister guards and the target, will pass through this way." Blade 88 replied.

"Denyra are you ready?" The almost thirty year old woman asked her childhood friend.

"Yes, Jenny." Nodded the brown girl a few years younger.

Jenny, couldn't help but think of her third and dearest friend,

Brisea...

All three of them, had grown up together in the village of Snow Mill.

They had played together, joked together, worked together, met young men together and...when times were happier than ever, before 'tragedy and despair' turned their lives upside down...

raised their children together.

Jenny had a six year old boy, whom she watched die before her eyes in her grandfather's arms, as a spear pierced them both...

Denyra a four year old girl, who died crushed by the burning debris of her house...

Brisea on the other hand... was the person who had perhaps suffered the most in the North... and perhaps in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

She attempted suicide several times during her period of 'Intensive Recovery Therapy'....

Maester Qyburn, their saviour, the one who, together with their Hero Bloody Snow, had given them a new hope and reason to live, had indeed done everything possible known to the art of healing to ensure that the three women would continue to live lives worth living.

Denyra and Jenny had been on a mission for almost two years, monitoring and preparing to save their target.

Both had managed to 'heal' a few months before Brisea was able to regain enough mental and emotional state to continue living.

After about six months of being here, Maester Qyburn had a message delivered to them from Brisea.

It read:

[Jenny, Denyra, thank you for being by my side in the darkest hour of my life. Like you, I have found a purpose in this life.

Lord Duncan says that the fate of millions of families like ours may depend on the care of my purpose...

but I don't think we can do it before spring comes.

I'll be fine, believe me.

There is someone in this world who will need my help and I will do everything I can to give it...

I miss you all so much.

Sincerely, your forever friend, Brisea.]

Both Denyra and Jenny, cried for a whole day and night reading and re-reading the letter which almost deteriorated with their tears.

About two hours later...

Denyra and Jenny were walking on a beaten path through a small forest.

Less than 100 feet away from them, they heard male laughter and a female moan...

"So bitch? Say that again! What are you?" A soldier asked, tapping the flat side of his blade on the poor 14-year-old's thigh.

"Argh!...A whore..." Replied the girl moaning in pain.

"I didn't hear you! WHAT ARE YOU?" The soldier hit harder.

"AAARGH...sigh...sigh..." The girl landed on her knees crying.

Before the soldier struck a third time, she screamed:

"I'M A WHORE! PLEASE STOP!!!"

"Ahahahah!"

"Bitch, you dropped your coin purse!"

"Why don't we bang her one more time before we get to Lannisport?"

"Ahahaha. Yeah why not? Does anyone have a silver coin I can borrow?" Said the four Lannister soldiers, one after the other, amused by their task...

"Oh, look at that! Two more beauties. Ahahaha" said one soldier pointing at Denyra and Jenny.

"Good morning my Ladies. What are you carrying in those baskets?" Asked another with a bow.

The two women began to play their part.

"White bread and fruit, brave soldiers...

Would you like some?" Jenny said with an embarrassed smile.

"Bread and fruit? I don't know about you guys, but all that 'movement' made me really hungry! Ahahahaha!" Said a soldier making the other three laugh as well.

"How much are you selling them for? Couldn't you offer four heroes of the West a well-deserved meal?" A soldier tried to ask.

"That depends, Ser...

Would you offer two poor widowed women protection and safety from outlaws and wild beasts?...haha." Denyra let a small, sensual laugh escape.

Three out of four soldiers walked over to the baskets and happily grabbed peaches, loaves of bread, apples and pears.

"Of course my ladies, you need fear nothing with us by your side." One soldier replied with the other two nodding.

After barely a minute...

"Aren't you eating Ser?" Jenny asked trying to get the basket closer to the only one of the four who hadn't eaten.

"No...I have different appetites at the moment, my lady." Replied the soldier with a smile that was frightening.

"I see...You are very lucky Ser." Jenny.

"Why should I be?" The soldier asked.

"Because Ser Qyburn won't have the pleasure of looking after you, Ser." Jenny nodded to a figure less than ten feet from the man.

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"Who is Ser Qyburn? Hey but what? Wegg, Areth, Greg, get back up! THAT...Urgh..Courgh Coff..." A blade sprang from the fourth man's throat.

The other three were unconscious on the ground.

"AAAHHH!!! NO PLEASE! DON'T HURT ME!" Screamed the poor girl still on the ground when she saw the man, who was holding her arm, drop dead dripping with blood.

Denyra and Jenny immediately set about calming the 'extremely' traumatised girl.

About three days later...

A reinforced nobleman's wagon, drawn by four horses, carrying three young women inside, was travelling along a bumpy road towards Moat Cailin. Following the wagon was an escort of thirty armed men on horseback.

"This is my story, my dear." She finished telling Denyra to the clean, groomed and again well-dressed girl.

"I'm very sorry...I didn't mean to offend you by saying what I said...Here..." Tried to say the girl trying to justify her previous statement of ' You don't know what I had to go through'.

''You have nothing to apologize for.

But...if you really wanted to make it up to us somehow, you could finally tell us something about yourself, my dear. After all, the journey to Torrhen's Square is still a long one." Said Jenny with a warm smile on her face.

"Of course! Ask me anything you like." The girl.

"Ahaha. Well then...

I'd say let's start at the beginning.

What is your name, my dear?" Denyra.

The girl blushed realizing her rudeness and rudeness.

She tried to make up for it as soon as possible.

"Tysha..."

"My name is Tysha."

End POV.

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POV: A hungry child.

In an ancient castle built thousands of years ago.

On the day a white raven announced the arrival of Winter....

The child was running in one of the corridors of the castle.

He and his brother had been playing hide and seek for most of the morning.

It was his turn to hide, and as he was very hungry, he decided to do so in the kitchens of the ancient castle.

He ran up to the door when it suddenly stopped.

A melodious voice reached his ears from another door.

It was the section of the bakery...

Not only was he attracted by the sweet, warm melody, but also by an irresistible smell of sweets he had never smelt before...

He crept towards the door. He knew very well that there, near the evil and dangerous fire, he could not approach, but he could not resist. He had to get in.

He entered the room and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a woman. A woman with a flour-stained apron and beautiful curly black hair.

The melody came from her.

"La, la, la! mmm mmm!

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long

She couldn't remember their names

They spun her around on the damp old stones

Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day

And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall

From winter to summer then winter again

'Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

High in the halls of the kings who are gone

Jenny would dance with her ghosts

The ones she had lost and the ones she had found

And the ones

Who had loved her the most..." Softly sang the woman in a melodic and tuneful voice...

For a moment, the child forgot his hunger and the delicious smell of steaming pastry...

When the silence returned, the child saw a tray on the steaming table, full of sweets that emanated that aroma...

He waited for the singing lady to turn around before trying to approach her...

After a few seconds, the flour-covered lady turned around to go back to kneading more pastry with her rolling pin.

The boy, drooling saliva from his mouth, silently approached...step by step...

Then he was suddenly petrified...

"It seems there's a little sweet thief somewhere..." Said the lady, still with her back to the child.

The little pest immediately sought cover by hiding under the table.

"Oh maybe I should say:

A little biscuit thief'." The dame corrected herself.

The boy put his hands over his mouth, trying to stop his laboured breathing.

"Of course...

If instead of a little thief, a brave little knight had entered...and I mean a knight who would have asked permission to take one of those warm and delicious biscuits filled with honey and nuts...

Maybe... and I say 'Maybe'...

He might have taken them." The dame.

"I AM A KNIGHT! Studff! Ahai!" The child, snapping to his feet, lightly banged his head on the table.

The dame turned to look for the child's gaze as he was rubbing his head.

"....We'll see..." Said the woman as she approached.

"I am not a thief! I just wanted to...emmm" The child tried to find the words in his limited vocabulary.

"Steal a biscuit? Ahahaha!" Said the lady, kneeling down at the child's height.

Now that the 'alleged thief' took a better look at the woman's face, he was impressed and struck by her beauty.

Pale face, big green eyes, tiny and delicate nose, but most of all....

Beautiful curly ebony black hair.

"Are you... are you by any chance a princess?" The child asked without thinking.

"Ahaha...no I'm not ' Little thief and aspiring knight'....

I'd say you just earned yourself a biscuit." Said the dame laughing.

A few minutes later...

The boy was sitting on the table toddling happily as he finished his second biscuit.

"Could I have another one? Dame Princess?" The child asked, having learned a valuable and profitable lesson.

"No I would say no. A third might give you a stomach ache, and I'm pretty sure someone is looking for you to go to lunch, my knight." The boy, hearing those words, put his hands over his head showing concern and alarm.

"But...I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you!" He said thinking hard about what he really wanted to do.

"Mmm I'd say that's not the case. Maybe tomorrow..." The dame.

"No! I don't want to wait for tomorrow!" The boy.

"...If you'll wait until tomorrow, as a good knight would, then tomorrow I'll make you another kind of biscuit....

What do you say?" The dame.

"...mmm I like biscuits...but..." The boy.

"But?" The dame.

"I want to hear you sing again! Can you sing that song again?" The child.

"You mean 'Jenny of Oldstone'?" The dame.

"YES! JENNY! That's what it was called! Please can you recite it for me?" The child.

"Mmmm I could do that...but..." The dame.

"BUT?" The child.

"I believe that before a making a request of a lady, a good knight would first ask said lady her name..." The lady.

"Smack!" The child slapped his face at the forgetfulness...He didn't know her name yet.

"Lady princess. May I know your name?" The child asked in a polite tone.

"Well, Ser...

My name is Brisea." Said Brisea giving a small bow.

"Brisea...

You have a beautiful name, Dame Brisea!" Said the child.

"Ahahaha! Thank you Ser!" Brisea replied, placing a small, delicate caress on the child's face, which he accepted with joy.

"And yours, Ser?

What is your name?" Dame Brisea asked.

"My name is Jon...

Jon Snow."

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