One more chance

Prologue

Rhea

On the day of her death, Rhea visited the Godswood for the first time in many years. She had never been particularly religious and only came to the shadow of the weirwood trees when her father insisted, but for the past few weeks she had been having strange dreams, and she couldn't ignore them. In these dreams, dragons fought, castles burned, people died, and finally, the Wall fell, and along with the bitter cold, the Others came to Westeros, leading hordes of the dead. Afterward, Rhea invariably woke to wet sheets, her heart pounding.

Her mother, Lady Cassana of the Reeds of the Neck, could see green dreams, and Rhea fearfully wondered if she had inherited this gift from her mother. After each vision, Lady Cassana was not herself and spent the days as if in a daze, most often trying to change what she had seen. This, in Rhea's opinion, was what had driven her mother to her grave, and she didn't want to repeat the tragic fate of the former Lady of Runestone. So Rhea decided to seek answers from the faces of the gods. Especially since her last dream, in which she fell from a height to her death, had left a vague uneasiness in her heart. The journey to the Godswood didn't take long—it was located in a small forest not far from Runestone, and Rhea planned to kill two birds with one stone: appeal to the Old Gods and go hunting, as she announced to her cousin Gerold. Her cousin immediately offered to accompany her, but Rhea declined—she wanted the questions she asked of the weirwoods to remain between herself and the gods. Besides, Rhea believed that if she came alone, the deities would be more favorable to her.

She was mistaken. The faces on the weirwoods remained sullenly silent, piercing her with the heavy gaze of their blood-drenched eyes. Rhea spent half an hour on her knees, trying to appease them, but to no avail. The gods were deaf to her pleas. Finally, Rhea rose and walked away, feeling discontent welling up inside her. Perhaps she should have visited the Godswood more often if she wanted her answers, but Rhea, exasperated, immediately rejected the idea. They wouldn't help? So be it! She wouldn't set foot among those ugly trees again!

However, by the time she returned home, Rhea had calmed down and even regretted her outburst. She recited a hasty prayer, as her mother had taught her, hoping the gods weren't warming up to her. One of the reasons Rhea was in such a good mood was the doe she had shot and then attached to her saddle, eliciting a disgruntled whinny from Bella, her favorite horse.

Rhea was riding home, looking forward to the delicious stew her cook was preparing for dinner, when a stranger in a hooded cloak, pulled up to completely hide his face, stepped out onto the path. Bella immediately became uneasy, and Rhea had to hold the mare's reins, stopping her.

"It's not customary to go around these parts skulking like a thief, frightening good people's horses," she said warningly, her gaze never leaving the stranger.

He was dangerous. Rhea sensed this with her keen senses, which had warned her of trouble more than once. It hadn't failed her this time.

The stranger chuckled, and Rhea's heart skipped a beat. She recognized the sound.

"Daеmon?" she asked coldly, and the man pulled the cloth from his head, revealing silver hair.

"Your sense of smell never fails you, Bronze Bitch." Of course, Daemon bloody Targaryen started the conversation with insults.

"You reek of dragon dung a mile away," Rhea replied. "What brings you to the Vale? Have you finally decided to consummate our marriage? Or are you planning on making a pass at my sheep? I remember you said they were much more beautiful than me."

Daemon clenched his teeth and said nothing. The muscles in his cheeks tensed. His gaze, dark and heavy as a ridge of stone, never left her.

"Or did our good King Viserys first kick you out of the heir apparent's seat, and then out of King's Landing?" Rhea continued to sneer. "And what will you do with the niece who replaced you? Kill her? Or act in the best traditions of your incestuous family?"

Rhea realized she should have bitten her tongue when Daemon lunged at her. Events unfolded from there with lightning speed. Bella, smelling the dragon scent emanating from Daemon, reared up in fear. Rhea desperately tried to hold on to the mare, but the prince was so close, the frightened animal tried to gallop away, but tripped on one of the rocks that lay around in abundance. The woman fell first, and then horse collapsed on her, squeezing all the air from the woman's lungs. Rhea whimpered in monstrous pain that shot through her from head to toe. Something inside her crunched, then burst and spread like lava through her limbs, quickly replaced by numbness.

As the horse sprang to its feet and galloped toward the Runestone, Daemon approached Rhea. He examined her broken body with perverse curiosity, and then, with sadistic pleasure, stepped on her hand. When  Targaryen realized she felt nothing, he sighed with satisfaction.

He hesitated and turned his back on her, preparing to leave. Rhea's breath caught in her throat. He was going to leave her here to die—motionless and helpless, with no control over her own body.

"At least have the courage to finish what you started, you cowardly dragon bastard!" she screamed hoarsely, glaring at his back, which had instantly hardened with those last words.

Daemon paused and stood there for a few seconds, making his decision, then picked up a heavy boulder and walked toward her. A few moments before blessed darkness flooded Rhea's consciousness, cutting off the pain of shattered bones and punctured lungs, Rhea managed to understand why she had dreamed of falling.