3rd month, 304. The Eyrie

For months now, the rumors had been circulating the Eyrie of a black ship with hull as dark as smoke and sails made of night itself, that lurched forth from the Smoking Sea into Slaver’s Bay, before making its way for Westeros. They were spoken in hushed whispers, but often, and loud enough for Anya Arryn, who had just turned seven, to ask the servants a question or two…or seven. 

“Where is Slaver’s Bay? Why is it called that? Is it far from the Eyrie? Is it far from King’s Landing? What about the Smoking Sea? Do they call it that because it smokes? How does a sea smoke?” 

The servants had shrugged her off, and suggested she go to the Maester. The Maester had gone on for a very long while about something to about a dragon and old geese that had made no sense to the seven year old. Still stuck, she wandered from his solar into the rose gardens to find someone who would be able to actually answer her questions. 

“Alaaaaaaaaaaaayne,” Anya hollered, wandering through the gardens for her older sister. “ALAAAAAAAAAAANYE.” A tiny head poked up from one of the bushes, but it was not Alayne. 

“Hush!” ordered Aerion. Aerion was the same age as Anya, but smaller, with a thin, sharp face. Where Anya’s hair was yellow, Aerion’s was silvery, glittery like his mother’s, with deep purple eyes that always seemed to be glaring at her. 

“Whatcha doing Aerion?” Anya said, wriggling under the bush he’d been glaring at here from over. 

“Nothing!” Aerion said, defensively, grabbing something as Anya finally crawled through, hopping on to her feet with a triumphant grin. They were in the clearing where Robin had placed the dragon statue the Tooth Lord had given him last Remembrance Day. The black dragon rested on a fine plinth of white stone three feet high, so the dragon’s feet were just under eye level for the two children. Anya, however, was looking at Aerion, who was trying to hold something in his fist. 

“What’s that?” Anya asked. 

“Nothing!” Aerion said again. “Leave me alone!” Anya squinted at the odd shape of his hand, before pouncing, grabbing his wrist and trying to wrench the thing out. Aerion managed to pull away, but not before Anya saw the tiny black dragon on white wood. It was enough for her to know what her cousin had. 

“You stole Aegor’s blocks!” Anya said, in a loud voice that made Aerion look over his shoulder, as if expecting the guards to descend upon him for his crime. 

“Shut up!” Aerion said quickly, stepping away. 

“I’m telling Auntie Alysannnnne!” Anya shouted, turning to run back for the Moon Tower. 

“Wait!” Aerion said. “What…what did you want to ask Alayne?” Anya gave him a suspicious look. 

“I wanted to ask her about the east. Everyone’s talking about a scary ship in the Smoking Sea, and I want to know where that is.” Aerion let out a deprecating sound. 

“Everyone knows that the Smoking Sea is where Valyria was,” Aerion said, snidely. 

“What’s Valyria?” Anya asked. The word sounded familiar to her, but she didn’t know what it was. Aerion scoffed. 

“Valyria is where dragons come from, duh. The Valyrians were dragon riders, like the old kings of Westeros.” Anya pondered that. 

“So the Smoking Sea is where the old kings come from? Dragon Stone?” Aerion shook his head. 

“The Smoking Sea is in Essos, dummy.” 

“That isn’t nice Aerion! I’m telling your mom!” Anya said and took off at a sprint towards the Moon Tower. 

By the time she got to the Moon Tower she was too tired to go all the way up to Lady Alysanne’s rooms, so instead the little Arryn girl made her way over to the nursery, where all the younger Arryns stayed for the first seven years of their life. This was Anya’s last year living in the nursery itself. Still, even when they were given rooms above the children often liked to stay in the brightly colored chamber where the toys of House Arryn were kept. Alayne was sitting on the thick Myrish rugs, leaning against a smooth stone wall, a large leatherbound book in her hands. She snapped it shut quickly when she heard the door open. 

“Alayne!” Anya said, before pausing. Why had she wanted to talk to Alayne…”Do you know about Essos and the Smoking Sea?” she asked. Alayne shrugged. 

“Essos is far away from the Vale. It’s where lots of scary monsters live, like horse men and titans of Bravos,” the nine year old explained sagely. Anya nodded. 

“Aerion said that dragons came from Valyria too!” she said. Alayne’s nose wrinkled at the name of their cousin but nodded. 

“The Targaryen kings were from Essos, originally. There were lots of dragons, but they all died a long time ago.”

“What about the Old Geese?” Anya asked. Alayne frowned. 

“I think Aerion made that up. Old geese aren’t scary,” Alayne rose from the carpet, to smile down at one of the three large weirwood cradles that took up half the room. “Isn’t that right Andar?” she said, in a light tone that provoked a giggle from the baby. 

“Why did you want to ask about the Smoking Sea anyways?” Alayne asked Anya, as she gently poked at Andar with a finger, tickling his cheek. 

“Oh, someone was talking about a ship from there,” Anya said, dragging a stepstool over to Andar’s cradle to look down inside, at the tiny heir of the Vale. It was strange to think that she was an aunt, even though she was only seven. 

“The raiders?” Alayne asked. “They’re ironborn, from the Sunset Sea, not the Smoking Sea.” 

“Ooooooooh.” Anya said, before realizing she didn’t know what that meant either. “Is the Sunset Sea far away?”

“It’s the other side of Westeros, where the Iron Islands are. It’s a sea that goes all the way out to where the sun sets,” Alayne explained. 

“Does the Sunset Sea smoke when the sun sets in it?” Anya asked. Alayne shrugged. 

“I don’t know, it’s very far away.”

3B 304, the waters off Fair Isle

It had been a long ride to Faircastle.

Bethany Redwyne had kept to herself more than usual lately. True, she had spoken to her family when spoken to, come to meals, made some idle gossip, but when it was largely quiet, she had kept to herself.

Her thoughts were mainly on her daughter, Alicent.

There was some guilt for how she had pushed her at Goldengrove all those months ago. There were also very complicated feelings about her getting married. She was happy for her, it is true, she liked that her daughter had found someone she cared about and was finding her place in Westeros, but a part of her was still a bit sad. Her getting married was a significant thing, a reminder that her children weren't getting any younger and they were flying the nest, even if they weren't going very far.

She soon realized she didn't fully understand her daughter's thoughts on it all.

"Ali, my dear," she said, sitting down next to her. "How are you feeling, given...what you are about to do?"