Prologue

283 AC

Tower of Joy

The Dornish sun glared hot and angry from the window as she lay on the bed, defeated and dying.

Utter exhaustion had overwhelmed her, and every ragged breathe had become a hard fought battle. Blood was leaking from her womb, and her life with it, Lyanna could feel it. So tired, and thirsty. Water, some water please. Someone..anyone. She tried to say it out loud, but her throat seemed to have shut down, and no sound escaped from her parched lips. Who would she speak to anyway, she was all alone, drenched in blood and cold sweat.

Lya's poor midwives lay dead on the floor beside her raised bed. Lya couldn't see them from her bed, but she knew they were there, lying on the floor just inches from her, their blood growing colder each passing moment; killed by the old woman as they had tried to help Lya after the birth. Lya imagined their dead faces must still be carrying the shock they had had felt during their last moments, the sudden wide eyed consternation on their homely faces when the old woman had unsheathed the knives meant for them. The old woman had escaped through the backdoor, along with Lya's child.

Her father was dead too, along with her brother; tortured to death by the Mad King, father of the man she loved. Rhaegar was gone as well if the old woman was to be believed, killed by Ned's army in the Riverlands. Only Ned remained, but she had no desire to meet him, to face him.

She took him away, my child. Lya didn't even get a chance to see him. The old woman had snatched him up like an oatsack as soon as he had come out. She had known it all along, Lya realized in despair. She knew everything, that vile bitch, about what would happen. She played us all, and now she has him, just as she had wanted all along.

'You are nothing, ' the old woman had said as she had stood over Lya beside the dead midwives, the crying child nestled in her arms. Her words still echoed in her mind. 'Don't for a moment think that you were something special. Rhaegar needed you for a child, the third head of the Dragon, that is all. You were just a broodmare, and your purpose is finished now. Do us all a favor now child, and die quickly.' With those words she had gone away, along with her babe.

Perhaps she was right, Lya thought as more blood leaked and soaked her inner thighs. Why would she be wrong? She had been right about everything. Lya closed her eyes and waited for it. It was all that was left of her life, the end. I deserve this, she told herself. The Gods had once taught me a sharp lesson. I should've heeded to it. Instead she chose to run away with the handsome prince. That started a war, and people died, all because of her.

Lya would go peacefully, that was more than what she deserved. Father was burnt alive for no crime, and Brandon was strangled. Thinking about sent a pang of pure agony through her heart. I should try to sleep, she told herself. When I wake up I will be with father and mother, and Brandon.

She waited with closed eyes, but sleep didn't come, neither did death. Instead she heard the backdoor burst open, and two persons rush in. "Lya," came an alarmed call of a familiar voice. The voice made Lya smile, and warmth rushed through her. Horas! It had been more than a year since she had heard him speak. She had missed him, her oldest friend. Lya opened her eyes. There he was, tall and strong, with an impressive close-cut beard. A man grown now, no one can dispute that. Not even his father. He was beside her, looking at her with wild worry. "That bastard! What did he do to you," he exclaimed. "Get me that linen Pate! Need it to stop the blood!"

"What is to be done then Ser Horas," asked the man Pate, whom she didn't recognize. His voice though, it was Northern. It felt nice to hear a Northern voice after so long.

"Don't you see what is to be done," Horas barked in anger at Pate as he tried to stop the bleeding. "Call Clydas! And Dalla too! They should know what to do! Cut down anyone who gets in your way. Our Lady needs help! Go now!"

Pate rushed to the door. "Clydas! Dalla! Get your arses here now! There's help needed! Clydas! Dalla," his voice faded as he rushed downstairs.

"You will be fine Lya," her friend urged as he threw away the bloody sheets. He pressed in some more fresh linen between her thighs, and rushed towards the water pitcher. "The bleeding should stop, but I still see some blood," he spoke as he hastily filled a large brass tumbler. "The others will know better, I am sure. Gods! I think you need some rest that is all, and water, lots of it." He rushed back to her side. "Clydas will take care of you, and Dalla, she has been worried sick for you. Just hold my hand. Don't let go!" He brought the tumbler to her lips, and she lapped and sucked hungrily at the cool water in it. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter, and more satiating. Water cleared her addled mind, and the urgent thoughts thumped in.

"Ho..Horas," Lya managed to speak when the tumbler was empty.

"Yes, Lya," Horas said, as he wiped the cold sweat from her face. "Tell me what you need. More water?" He leaned towards her face to get a better listen.

"No."

"What then," he asked.

"She took him."

"What?"

"She took my babe," she spoke in between ragged breaths. "Stop her, please."

"Who's she?"

"The old woman...from the East. She will turn him into...one of them!"

"I don't understand."

More people entered from the backdoor. "Oh Gods," she heard Dalla exclaim.

"She'll want to leave by sea. Find her. Save him," she whispered. "Save my child. Promise me Horas!"