A.N./Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to George R. R. Martin. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox, Mr. Martin, and don't mind the mess! All I gain from this is personal gratification, and a tiny bit of emotional sadism... I write for myself, first and foremost, and secondly to get the damn stories out of my head!
The hoarse scream of a woman in pain echoed through the stones in the Tower of Joy.
"Get out of my way!"
The sole remaining Kingsguard shook his head, leaning against the wall and breathing heavily. "Stark, for your own good, I am asking you... stay away. I cannot let you pass." He fixed the young man from Winterfell with a look that passed for pleading amongst men of action.
Another scream filtered its way down, and the last of Eddard Stark's control slipped. "Never," he hissed quietly. Raising his sword, he swung at the whitecloak in front of him.
"For Winterfell!" Howland Reed's cry reverberated from below, followed by the pounding of his feet on the stairs.
The details of the ensuing battle fled from Eddard Stark with every cry and scream from the woman upstairs, until all went suddenly silent. All that remained between him and his sister was this man, but it was Reed's sword that struggled free from the Kingsguard's chest.
"I'm... sorry... Stark..." the dying knight choked out between gasps and blood. He raised his hand weakly, before collapsing back.
Reed glanced at Stark, but the young lord shook his head and leapt over the fallen body to climb the last of the stairs leading to his sister.
He flung open the door and a servant screamed in terror. The poor wretch darted past the blood-covered lord, though Eddard Stark was too startled to care.
Roses were strewn about the room - roses the same colour as the one Lyanna Stark had been presented with at that fateful joust, roses that would only provoke Robert Baratheon to further rage. Lyanna lay upon the hastily made up bed, a crumpled bloom in one hand, and a wee babe, still covered in blood and fluid against her side. A pool of blood had begun to soak through the blanket serving as a sheet for the cot.
"Lyanna!" Eddard gasped and raced to her side, dropping his sword as he fell to his knees by her bed.
To his dismay, Lyanna opened her eyes and slowly tilted her head to meet his gaze - and looked upon him with terror.
"No, Lyanna, it's me... it's Ned," he whispered hoarsely, stroking the beads of sweat from her forehead. "We're going to take you home, you're safe now." He reached for the hand clutching the flower, trying desperately to ignore the plaintive cries of the infant by her side.
"NO!" Lyanna jerked her hand away and coughed, blood dribbling down her cheek. The child in her arms cried louder. "No," she whispered. "Don't... he gave it to me... he promised... promised he'd return..."
Ned frowned and shook his head. "Robert's here, Lyanna, in the city below."
"I... I don't want him!" Lyanna grew paler and shrank into herself, pulling the baby closer to her. "Ned, don't let him, you have to... have to help me, have to understand."
Anger flashed acrossed Ned Stark's face as he looked down at the bawling baby. "Rhaegar... he did this to you!"
"N-no!" Lyanna gasped and choked, her voice growing hoarser and more desperate. "I love him, Ned... we wanted this, we wanted this child... he's ours... they'll kill him if they know. Take him, hold him, Ned." She weakly thrust the infant toward her brother, her eyes begging him to take the child.
"I don't understand, Lyanna, I don't..."
"Shhh, Ned, please..." Lyanna slowly pressed her fingers to Ned's lips. "You didn't want to... Bran... didn't want to, nor Benjen, when I tried to tell you. They can't know, though, he has to be yours, he has to be your son!"
"But, Catelyn-"
"I don't care!" The woman coughed harder as her breathing grew more ragged. Her voice dropped again, nearly broken. "I would there was another way, Ned, this I vow to you. I can ony wish you and Catelyn all the happiness that I did not know. But this... this one good thing that came of Rhaegar and myself... my precious, important, dragon-boy... " Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped at the blood by her mouth.
Ned had to lean in closer to make out her words.
"He has to be yours. No one can ever know. Not ever, lest someone find out, and try to kill him. Save him, Ned, save him, please, for us, for me..."
"Lyanna, I... I can't." Ned looked down at the babe in his arms, then back to his sister. He didn't bother to hide the tears welling in his eyes. "Honour-"
"I know... which is why you must do it. Please, Ned, for me. He's a Stark, he has to be a Stark, it's the only way he will survive. I'm dying, Ned, promise me, please, let me go, so I can be with... just, promise. Promise me..."
Ned gripped his sister's free hand with his, and for a brief moment struggled to hold back tears.
Lyanna closed her eyes, trying to breathe for moments longer. Opening them, she looked up at her brother, desperation wrought all over her face and body.
"I... promise, Lyanna. I promise."
Coughing and choking one last time, she fell back on the cot and rose petals tumbled from her limp hand.
Tears of anger and helplessness and rage mingled in Eddard Stark's beard as he let out a broken scream.
Reed approached at last, taking the child from Stark, and wrapping the baby in his cloak. "I promise, my lord."