THE TARGARYEN SISTERS

PROLOGUE

The Daughters of the Dragon

For years, in Westeros, the three Targaryen princesses had been spoken of as if they were ghosts.
Rhaella, Visenya, and Daenys.
Three daughters of the blood of the dragon, raised far from the land of their ancestors, across the Narrow Sea, where power belonged not only to kings and queens, but also to men who bought armies, cities, and alliances with gold.
They had been sent to Pentos when they were still children.
At first, many in Westeros had believed it was only a temporary arrangement. A way to protect them. A journey far from the tensions of court. No one could have imagined that Pentos would become their home.
And, above all, no one could have imagined what they would become.
In Pentos, the three princesses were not simply guests of the city.
They were Targaryens.
And that meant that, even thousands of miles from King's Landing, their name carried weight.
The great families of Pentos had quickly learned to respect them. Merchants sought the princesses' favor. Ship captains knew their names. The nobles of the Free Cities knew that a single word from Rhaella could open doors that would remain closed even to men far wealthier than she was.
Rhaella, the eldest, had become the political face of the family.
Visenya was their strength.
Daenys, their quietest voice.
And together they had built something that belonged neither to Westeros nor entirely to Essos.
A small Targaryen court on the other side of the sea.
They did not need a crown to be treated as princesses.
They had the blood.
They had the gold.
They had ships.
They had men willing to fight for them.
And, above all, they had the dragons.
Three dragons that almost no one had ever seen.
That was the detail that had fueled the stories about them for years.
In Westeros, it was known that the three sisters possessed dragons. It was known that they had claimed them in the lands of Essos. It was known that they were wild. It was known that they were enormous. But no one at court could say they had truly seen them.
The princesses never traveled with their dragons. They did not bring them to feasts. They did not display them before foreign courts. They did not have them fly alongside the other Targaryen dragons.
Not because they were incapable of doing so.
But because their dragons were not creatures meant to be kept as companions.
Grey Ghost, Cannibal, and Sheepstealer had been born wild, and wild they had remained.
They knew nothing of the concept of a pack. They did not seek the company of other dragons.
And their riders had understood that.
That was why, whenever the three sisters left Pentos, they traveled by ship.
Never by dragon.
It had almost become a rule.
A rule none of the three had ever broken.
Their voyages had become famous.
Rhaella loved the sea more than she would ever admit.
Visenya preferred watching the men aboard the ships and determining who was worthy of her trust.
Daenys, on the other hand, spent hours reading or listening to the captains' stories.
And whenever their routes brought them close to Westeros, for years they had made a detour.
King's Landing.
For Viserys.
Their brother.
The king.
It had always been that way.
Whenever one of their ships crossed the Narrow Sea, before continuing toward Pentos or Lys, the three sisters would try to find the time to stop in the capital.
It did not matter how short the visit was.
It did not matter how busy the members of the court were.
They wanted to see Viserys.
And Viserys wanted to see them.
Because despite the distance, despite the years spent away, their bond with their brother had never completely faded.
When they were children, Viserys had been one of the few people who made them feel that they were still part of their family.
He had protected them as best he could. He had written to them. He had sent them gifts. He had asked for news of them.
And whenever he could finally embrace them again, for a few hours he became simply Viserys.
Not the king.
Not the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.
Just their brother.
Daemon, however, had always been different.
With Daemon, there had never been that distance.
Perhaps because Daemon himself knew what it meant to feel out of place in Westeros.
Perhaps because he had spent time in Pentos.
When Daemon and Laena Velaryon had lived there, the three princesses had welcomed them without hesitation.
Laena had been loved by the three sisters almost immediately. She was elegant, intelligent, proud. And above all, she understood what it meant to grow up beside dragons.
But with Daemon, it was different.
With Daemon, there was a familiarity they had never shared with anyone else in the family.
They laughed together. They argued. They teased one another. They talked for hours.
Daemon knew their weaknesses, and they knew his.
He was perhaps the only man capable of entering their residence without being announced and not receiving even a surprised glance.
And when Daemon left Pentos, their relationship did not end.
Whenever they could, they saw one another again.
For a time, whenever the three sisters traveled toward Westeros, the first thing they did was look for Viserys.
And the second was to look for Daemon.
But the years changed everything.
Visits to King's Landing became less and less frequent.
First once a year.
Then once every two years.
Then years passed.
Viserys's court had changed.
The girls they had once known had become women. Their lives had transformed.
Rhaella had married the King of Lys. That marriage had transformed the eldest of the three sisters into one of the most powerful women in the Free Cities.
Visenya had built a reputation that even the men around her found intimidating.
Daenys had become a quiet but fundamental presence in Pentoshi politics.
The three were no longer princesses living far from Westeros.
They had become a power.
And yet, somewhere deep within Rhaella's heart, Viserys had remained her brother.
Until that day.
The day the raven arrived.
It was morning in Pentos. The sky was overcast.
Rhaella was in the main hall of their residence when the doors opened.
A man entered. His face was pale. In his hand, he held a letter.
Rhaella raised her gaze.
"From Westeros?"
The man nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Rhaella took the letter. She opened it. She read one line. Then another.
And her expression changed.
Visenya noticed.
"What happened?"
Rhaella did not answer. She continued reading.
When she reached the end, she slowly let the letter fall onto the table.
Daenys approached.
"Rhaella."
The eldest of the three sisters inhaled slowly.
"Our brother is dead."
Silence.
For a moment, none of the three spoke.
Viserys.
Their brother.
The king.
Dead.
Daenys lowered her eyes.
Visenya clenched her jaw.
Rhaella, however, remained still.
But that was not the worst part.
There was another letter. Another piece of information.
A crown.
Aegon.
Their brother was dead, and someone had decided that his throne would not pass to the daughter Viserys had named heir.
Rhaenyra.
Aegon had been crowned.
A false king.
Visenya took the letter and read it herself.
When she finished, she crushed it in her fist.
"They have usurped the throne."
"Yes."
Daenys looked at Rhaella.
"And Rhaenyra?"
Rhaella remained silent for a few seconds. Then she rose.
The woman standing before her sisters was no longer simply the Targaryen princess who had grown up in Pentos.
She was the wife of the King of Lys.
She was a sovereign.
She was a Targaryen.
And someone had just declared war on her family.
"Send the ravens."
Visenya looked at her.
"To whom?"
Rhaella picked up a quill.
"To everyone."
She sat down and began to write.
"To Rhaenyra."
A pause.
"And to Aegon."
Daenys understood immediately.
"You want to declare war."
Rhaella raised her gaze.
"No."
Her sisters stared at her.
Rhaella gave a small smile.
"They already have."
She took the Targaryen seal.
"We only need to answer."
The wax was pressed.
Rhaella Targaryen.
The first letter was addressed to the rightful heir. The second to the usurper.
And the message would be simple.
They would not recognize Aegon as king. They would not accept the usurpation. And they would fight for Rhaenyra.
Visenya stepped closer to the table.
"When do we leave?"
Rhaella looked at her.
"Not yet."
Daenys frowned.
"Why?"
"Because we will not go to war without preparing for it."
Rhaella pointed to the map of Westeros.
"First, we secure our alliances."
Her finger moved toward Lys.
"My husband."
Then Pentos.
"Our ships."
Then King's Landing.
"And finally, Westeros."
Visenya smiled.
It was the smile of someone who had been waiting for that war all her life.
"And Aegon?"
Rhaella kept her eyes on the point marked on the map.
"Aegon will die."
Daenys raised her gaze.
Rhaella did not hesitate.
"We will not give him time to consolidate his power."
Visenya stepped closer.
"And how?"
Rhaella looked at her sisters.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then Daenys said quietly:
"One dragon can destroy an army."
Visenya smiled.
"Three can destroy a kingdom."
Rhaella lowered her eyes to the map.
"We do not need three armies."
She picked up a piece and placed it over King's Landing.
"We need only one night."
Outside the walls of Pentos, something moved.
A gigantic shadow crossed the clouds.
Then a second.
And finally a third.
For a moment, the sun disappeared.
The people of Pentos looked up at the sky.
No one spoke.
No one needed to.
The three dragons were there.
Grey Ghost.
Cannibal.
Sheepstealer.
And after years of silence, the three Targaryen princesses had finally decided to return to Westeros.
But before they returned...
they would decide how to kill the false king.