Author's Note: I've been part of the fandom for awhile, and I've been in love with the world of Westeros ever since I read the first book many years ago. I've always wondered, however, the story of King Aerys' reign, long before Robert's Rebellion. After GRRM published the stories of Dunk and Egg, I wanted to write my own prequel to Robert's Rebellion, utilizing the characters GRRM outlined and piecing together facts and events during that time. Every one of my characters here are characters that actually exist in the universe—those whose names are foreign to you are nameless characters that have been introduced by GRRM.
So yeah, this is my take on a prequel haha. I hope you enjoy and review—any tips on my writing or on what seems out of place would be really helpful!
A bit of character insight: Sylvia Whent (this is a name given to her by me; GRRM did not reveal her name) is the "fair maiden" of Harrenhal, who was the reigning Queen of Love and Beauty until Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna Stark during the Tourney at Harrenhal. The tourney was dedicated to her by her father.
Prologue.
Sylvia Whent I
296 AC
They were all dead.
Her brothers, who had played with her in the massive courtyards of Harrenhal and chanted songs of war. Her father, who chose his duty to House Tully over his loyalty to the crown. Her uncle, the dark-humored knight of the Kingsguard who fell at the Tower of Joy. Prince Rhaegar, in all his grace. Princess Elia, in all her kindness. Queen Rhaella, in all her sadness.
And Arthur. Arthur, the handsome, noble Sword of the Morning. Arthur, who had sent her a raven with only one, short note two days before Eddard Stark and his boys arrived at the Tower of Joy. Arthur, who's death splintered her already cracking heart into a million, irrecoverable pieces.
She could feel her mother stroking her limp clammy hand with her wrinkled ones. Her vision was blurring into a mess of colors as her fever burned through her body like fire, but she could still make out the silver-white of her mother's hair. The wrinkles at the corner of her mother's eyes. Her mother's moving mouth, which seemed to be uttering words that did not reach her ears.
Blood roared in her ears among the feverish deafness, until a flurry of notes broke through the painful silence. It was quiet at first, subtle and quiet, until the sound began slowly building up. Songs and giggles of glee shattered her senses, painting a vivid picture of dancing minstrels, chatting ladies, laughing lords and jousting knights. A familiar scene, she realized as beads of sweat trickled down her brow.
It was the Tourney at Harrenhal, which her father had dedicated in her name.
A tourney that was meant to birth grand merriment and happiness. A tourney that instead birthed blood, war, and death.
She breathed in a shallow breath, feeling her heart hammering in her chest as she felt a darkness lull her to sleep.
"Finally." Sylvia Whent rasped, before her heart abruptly stopped beating and her hand went slack in her mother's grasp.
Lady Shella Whent wailed a horrible, anguished cry as the last of the late Lord Walter Whent's children died in Harrenhal's lonely halls.
A/N: This was short b/c it was the prologue... the next chapters will likely be much longer.
