A SONG OF FIRE AND ICE BOOK 1:

A Game of Wolves and Thrones

Prologue

283, Riverrun, The Twenty-First Day of the Twelfth Month

"Breathe, in, Catelyn." Maester Luwin gripped her hand.

"Don't tell her to breathe." That was her sister, Lysa. Lysa was screaming louder than anyone.

"It is really coming now." That was her brother, Edmure. He didn't understand properly. He was only thirteen after all.

"Shut up!" Lysa screamed.

However, Cat did not scream. She breathed in and pushed.

There was a groan from the next bed.

"Be still, Milady." Maester Luwin moved to the girl in the bed, "I will be alright."

"How you know?" Catelyn couldn't breathe. She had wanted so much to hate this girl, the lover of her former betrothed Brandon Stark, but once she appeared at the door of Riverrun, claiming to carrying Brandon's son, Cat would not deny her. Especially for the sake of Eddard, Brandon's younger brother and the one she'd been in love with. Now Catelyn had received her wish and she was married to kind, silent Eddard, but it had come at a terrible cost. Brandon had died almost a year ago at the Red Keep where he'd gone with his father, Lord Rickard to report of the designs of Cat's father, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn the man, Ned and his childhood friend, Robert Baratheon had squired for to plot against Mad King Aerys. Robert and Eddard had on that day fallen into a similar plot with help from Ned's she-wolf sister, Lyanna who had befriended, Elia Martell, wife of Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen who was, along with her husband, plotting to dethrone the Mad King. There was something that Eddard, Lyanna, Elia and Rhaegar had discussed in private at the Tourney at Harrenhal that convinced the honorable, rule-following Ned to break with tradition and stand against the King and hot-blooded Robert had willing followed them into the fray. Now both Catelyn and the mystery girl were carrying the son of a Stark

Dragonstone

The Dowager Queen, Rhaella Targaryen lay in deep and tortured agony on her bed in Dragonstone. She was covered in sweat, blood, and urine. Her eldest son had rebelled against his father, along with his wife, the sweet, beautiful, Elia Martell. At first, Aerys had blamed "The Dornish Whore" for Rhaegar's Rebellion, but when Rickard Stark had come to the Red Keep, alongside his eldest son, Brandon to report of the machinations of Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn against him, he had taken Father and Son hostage, and burned Rickard alive while Brandon was suspended by a wet, leather cord to a device the King had brought from Tyrosh until he strangled himself. After that, Aerys had gone even madder than before, seeing traitors everywhere. It was not long before he had turned his wrath on her and on their youngest son, her favorite child, Viserys, a boy of about eight. Rhaella was with child again by then and Tywin Lannister had joined the King on the field. Or so he said. On Aerys' orders, he had stormed the Tower of Joy where Elia and her and Rhaegar's young little daughter, Rhaenys and their infant son, Aegon had been staying under the protection of Elia's own brother's captain of Guards, Areo Hotah and their uncle, a man of the Kingsguard, Ser Lewyn Martell. Ser Lewyn had been killed that day. As had Ser Arthur Dayne's sister and Elia's handmaiden, Ashara, slain by Ser Gregor Clegane, a seventeen-year-old young man, strong enough to behead a horse. It was said, Rhaella, always flinched when she heard this, that Elia had returned with the children and Areo Hotah. Areo had challenged Lord Tywin to single combat. But while they were dueling, young Ser Gregor had attacked Elia and her children. The young princess fought like a tiger it was said, but it was almost in vein. Tywin's mad dog had smashed little Aegon's head in and then raped and killed Elia with the baby's blood and brains still on his hands before turning on five-year-old Rhaenys. But by then his liege lord had been wounded and unbeknownst to any of them, Ashara Dayne had sent a raven to Elia's younger brother, Oberyn the Red Viper before she died and he was now leading a garrison to the Tower. Ser Areo had welcomed then with tears in his eyes and Rhaegar had beheaded young Gregor then and there while Lord Tywin had bought his life with his pledge to his new, young king. Rhaella wasn't sure if she believed the story or not. Her Rhaegar, her gentle, quiet son beheading a man seemed fantastical. But that was before she'd seen the skull. It was said that Ser Gregor's own brother, Sandor had cheered when as his brother had been executed. Rhaella had cried for Rhaegar and she cried for his family. Elia had been a daughter to her and although she had never met Aegon, she knew Rhaegar had loved him with all his heart. Rhaenys lived, it was said, but she was changed. It was then that Rhaella's childhood friend, Ser Barristan Selmy had made the decision to take her and Viserys to Dragonstone under the cover of night for her baby, her last, sweet, innocent child to be born. Aerys was dead now too, but Rhaella did not grieve for her him. The mouse does not weep for the death of the cat. He would have killed her and Viserys had they stayed. Rhaegar's children were prove enough of that. And now, she hoped her eldest son would soon come and carry her and his brother and sister home.

"It's time milady." That was her midwife. "Cut the cord then." Commanded Viserys. He was only eight years old. He only just barely understood what was going on.

Riverrun

Cat did not scream. She breathed in and pushed.

Maester Luwin cut the cord.
"It's a healthy boy."

The baby had reddish brown hair and Ned's deep gray eyes.

"Robb." Proclaimed Catelyn Tully, "After Robert." She was speaking of Robert Baratheon, Eddard's best friend and now his brother by marriage. From the next bed, the other girl, Brandon's girl shrieked in pain. Maester Luwin ran to her side, reaching out his hands. There was a small quite sound from the mother as he cut the cord and a small, pale, dark-haired, dark-eyed baby lay in the Maester's arms.
"Another boy." Maester Luwin said.
"Another boy," Cat laughed ruefully, "You have a cousin." She told her son, "Born on the same day you two are quite nearly twins. What shall we call your new cousin? Bastard he may be but knowing your father it is best you think of him as your brother."

"Jon." The boy's mother said, "His name is Jon Snow. Take care of him, please." And then she threw back her head and lay before them, prone and still.

Dragonstone

Queen Rhaella's pain was bearing in for a moment, this baby was too soon. It would more than likely die like all the others. Viserys resumed his hold on her hand.

No! Rhaella thought, She can't die. She won't die! She is the Blood of the Dragon. She will live.

"Push now, Your Grace." That was her midwife. An elderly woman with a kind smile. Rhaella normally knew her name, but she had forgotten it she hurt so much. So much. There was a tug. Two tugs. Three tugs. She didn't remember it hurting so much. Not with Rhaegar. Not with Viserys. This child was a stubborn one. Rhaella could hear the storm going on outside. But she paid it no heed. All of her strength was based solely on the baby. Getting the baby free. Getting the baby home. There was one…long painful tug. Rhaella heard, not felt the Maester cut the cord. And then all she could hear was a faint, but strong cry.

"It's a girl, Your Grace." Said a voice from far away. A voice Rhaella couldn't place.

"Let me see her," Rhaella said softly.

"I could get a wet nurse."

"No!" Rhaella cried, "Let me see her. Let me hold her please" A horrible thought struck Rhaella then, "Is she healthy? Is she alive?" The baby was lain on her breasts. Rhaella took a good long look at her sweet, beautiful new baby girl. The child was loudly at first, but one of the midwives moved forward and adjusted her breasts so the baby could nurse. She was a small thing. Bigger than poor, sweet, little Rhaena, but still smaller than Rhaella would liked. Yet she was strong. Rhaella could tell from the way the little one suckled her teat. She had the silver-gold Targaryen hair and Rhaegar's eyes, that seemed to be somewhere between light purple, dark blue, and brilliant green.

"Daenerys." Rhaella breathed, "It means 'fire-hearted'. Vis, come meet your new sister." Viserys stepped up to his mother and reached out, brushing back her small tufts of hair. There was a sound of opening doors and there were men standing over her. She saw silvery white armor, armor in black and gold, and best of all, pure obsidian armor decorated with glittering rubies.

"Rhaegar," She breathed.

Her eldest son knelt. His arm around Viserys.

"I'm here, Mother." He said, "I won't leave."

"Take care of your brother and sister." Rhaella answered softly, "Look after the Kingdoms. Be a fair and just King. Don't forget, my sweet brave boys. Do everything you can to make sure our family can grow. Can live. That the Realm can live. Thrive even. My boys. Make sure Daenerys knows about me." Queen Rhaella closed her eyes, then and knew no more.

Standing above her, the newly crowned King Rhaegar reached down and held his brother close before reaching down to take his small sister into hands.

Little Daenerys was crying now weeping.

"Be still Little Dragon," Rhaegar whispered, hugging Viserys to his side with his free arm, "It's over now, Vis."

"Will the baby live?" His brother's voice was shaking with fear. And with sadness.

"Yes," Rhaegar said, "I think she will. We must hope after all we've lost." He turned to Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark, "They'll all live. They must for Winter is Coming."