273 AL, KINGSLANDING
FELICIA TYRELL was not a woman to be easily purturbed by a simple bone of contention. She'd always had greater things to worry about, but her heated conversation with the crown prince had left her mind in a turmoil. So she ran, she ran away from the young prince who went on calling after her but the woman would not listen.
Felicia was anxious and enraged, beads of sweat tickled down her temple as she picked up pace. She could hardly fathom how the mighty Rhaegar Targaryen could ask her to be a pawn in his selfish game. Her abilities were sacred and she'd intended to keep it that way.
When Felicia reached her old handmaiden's deserted chambers, in the tallest tower of the Red Keep, she found herself ravaging through the sheets until her palms felt a cold metal underneath them. She'd known her lord husband to be a secretive man but little did she expect him to tuck his ancestral dagger underneath a flea infested sheet.
Felicia twirled the dagger in her hand mesmerized in it's beauty and almost unsure of her forthcomings. Her mind drifted to the dialogue she'd shared with the prince only a few moments ago. She remembered how his violet orbs shone with hope when he proposed her to be his seer.
His seer.
Rhaegar Targaryen was almost too sure that he was the prince who was promised, but the legend also called for a prophetess with the mark who'd lead him to glory. Felicia scoffed at the overconfidence of the prince who thought that she would be the one to guide him, but the prince failed to realise the misery that his chosen guide would have to withstand.
Felicia knew that there were hundreds of women on Westeros and Essos who were endorsers of mysticism but there could only be one chosen prophet.
She knew that it wasn't her for the chosen one is not supposed to lead a content life, and she was indeed content. She'd married the love of her life and had two beautiful children, but Rhaegar had failed to understand this. He wanted to make her hard earned life into a living hell just for his personal satisfaction.
Even if she agreed to his terms, she knew her ordinary life would be in ruins. She'd loose sleep, her health would worsen and she'd finally fade from existence. It was the fate of the chosen one, it was written down in the prophecy itself, but the prince couldn't care less.
He was preparing himself to become a fragment of his greatest desires.
Felicia believed that she'd rather die than serve that Targaryen against her wishes. Least, she would be in peace. As much as it hurt her to leave her husband and her children, she deemed death to be her only option. So without another thought, the woman gripped onto her dagger with trembling hands, as tears formed in her eyes and raised it in the air.
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting to swing the dagger into her gut, but before she could carry out her actions, a small voice called out to her.
"Mother"
Felicia turned to see her four year old daughter standing by the door, shivering in her underclothes while she suckled on her thumb. Felicia quickly hid the dagger behind her back.
"What are you doing so late, Amara? I thought Marcel had put you to sleep" Felicia said, wiping her tears for her daughter.
Amara giggled in response
"He fell asleep himself, he snores so loudly and sounds just like a bull" Felicia smiled at Amara who was laughing on her own, but soon the little girl stopped. Her expressions were laced with confusion as her eyes bore into Felicia's.
"What is wrong, mother?" She asked, noticing the pain in her eyes.
The woman was speechless, she couldn't explain her child, the crisis that had engulfed her life from the past few days. She was fearful that Amara wouldn't understand the need for her to die and would try to revoke her attempts.
"Come here" she said softly, gesturing to her lap. Amara entered the room which was in a mess, sheets were sprawled on the floors, mosses made their way on the walls and among all that filth sat her mother with a few candles lit behind, her legs were crossed and she had an unreadable expression on her face.
Felicia pulled her daughter on her lap and cradled her like she was a babe born mere moments ago.
"You have been sleeping less for the past few days 'mara. What is the matter? Are you playing late in the night again?" Felicia asked, brushing the srands of hair off her forehead. Amara's lips curved into a small smile as her eyes became heavy lidded. Her mother's warm touch certainly did wonders, she felt safe in her arms.
"Dreams, I have these nightmares mother" she whispered.
Felicia froze. Her eyes widened in fear, fear for the worst. She slowly looked down at her child who was almost drifting off to sleep.
"I see dragons mother, big bad dragons. They were burning us all" she whispered while yawning.
Felicia stopped rocking the young girl who was now awoken my the sudden lack of motion. Without another word, Felicia grabbed Amara's wrist and bought it closer for inspection.
The small insignificant birthmark that she had on her wrist had now become prominent. Felicia knew that her daughter was born with the scar but she'd failed to interpret it's purpose until now. If her assumptions were true then her sweet daughter would be miserable all her life and the woman did not have the heart to let her face such adversities.
If Amara was a seer then she would be in pain.
Felicia's mind was racing as her chest heaved making the little girl tense. Amara was scared, she had never seen her mother so distressed but she didn't know what was running through the woman's mind.
Felicia's attention arrived at the dagger. She was soon struck with an idea. She made Amara sit up on and wrapped her in a shawl.
"Mother-"
"You were cold weren't you, my sweet pea?" She said quickly and Amara nodded in response.
Felicia reached for the candles that burnt behind her on the small table. She placed the burning candle on the hem of her dress as she pulled her daughter closer to her chest, singing soft lullabies in her ear. It didn't take long for the young girl to fall asleep, with a warm blanket and her mother's sweet voice she felt comfortable.
When the time seemed ripe, Felicia Tyrell flicked the burning candle on her white satin dress and set it ablaze.
It was a rash decision, true, but it was for the best. She and Amara would now be safe and happy in the heavens. No man could now exploit their abilities.
She laughed, almost maniacal it did sound but Felicia Tyrell was happy as the flames engulfed her body slowly and steadily while her daughter was practically knocked unconscious due to the smoke.
Footsteps were heard running towards them as the fire spread throughout the room and there stood Rhaegar Targaryen, petrified and defeated. A mere woman had ruined his plans, the thought of it was enough to make the Tyrell roar in laughter.
"The dragons will never have us. We will be happy again my sweet pea" she screamed both in pain and joy as her flesh slowly melted away by the warm fires.
To Rhaegar the scene was shocking. Felicia looked like a madwoman, her eyes were like the blazing suns. The air smelt of rotting flesh, he had almost decided to walk into the flames and pull out the foolish woman while knocking some sense into her, but when he saw a bundled body held close to the woman's chest, he couldn't help himself.
The prince tried to run into the flames but was stopped by Gerold Hightower who held the young Targaryen in place.
"A child is in there Gerold, I need to save them" Rhaegar pleaded, but the blonde knight refused to understand.
"The flames have spread throughout the room my prince, you cannot go in there. I have arranged for water, servants are bringing them" he said. Rhaegar sighed.
Felicia's laughter soon died out and it was the proof of her departure from the realm. The flames were so wild that even hours of watering had failed to tame it.
Berrin Jordayne soon arrived at the scene, as he pushed the servants away. His dark hair was drenched in sweat and his cheeks were stained with tears. When he reached the door to find his prince and closest friend standing with his arms folded and head bent down, Berrin knew that there were no survivors.
Gerold Hightower and Arthur Dayne stood by him, waiting for the last flames to cool down. Berrin fell on his knees, letting out a sharp cry that made the prince and his Kingsguard run to comfort him.
Rhaegar held on to his dear friend as he cried on his shoulders. He looked up to see Marcel Jordayne standing by them, on the verge of bursting into tears.
"Be strong Berrin, hold yourself together. Today was an unfortunate accident, do not cry" Rhaegar said, trying to console him.
"Strong? How can I be strong when my wife and daughter have burnt alive?!" He screamed. Rhaegar was startled at his outburst but it was natural for the man to be angry, he loved his family too much.
"You do realise that it was your dear wife that burnt your daughter alive?" Gerold commented angrily.
"Gerold-"
"Do pardon me, my prince but I speak the truth. You saw how she laughed, almost like a mad woman" Before the Lord Commander could speak any further, Berrin had already tackled him down to the ground, his eyes were red with anger and pain. He was in no mood to hear unsupportive remarks from him. Arthur and Rhaegar tried to pull them away but Berrin's rage had gotten better of him.
"The lass is breatin' mi'lord" a lanky servant said, while the others retrieved the Amara Jordayne's body. Berrin stopped and rushed to his daughter who was laid on the stony floor. She was covered in thick soot and her shoulders held serious burns.
"My 'mara" he said, wiping the blood stains off her face. By god's grace her face was saved but her back had burnt. She looked strangely peaceful.
"We must take her to Pycelle" Arthur suggested, the prince nodded in agreement and went on to pick up the little girl despite his lord commander instructing otherwise.
"Get cleaned up, Berrin" The prince said.
"It's not that easy, my wife-"
"You still have a son and if the gods permit, a healthy daughter as well. Do it for them, as your Prince I command you to"
The Dornishman huffed under his breath and walked away while Rhaegar carried the burnt girl towards the maester's chambers. She was still warm from the fire, he was careful not to infect her wounds.
He had so many questions. Rhaegar understood why Felicia would want to kill herself, but her daughter?
It was strange for a mother to inflict such pain on her own blood, so there had to be a greater reason. He felt guilt wash over him whenever he laid eyes on the half burnt girl in his arms. It was all his fault, but confronting Felicia was necessary, he just didn't expect his necessity to turn into situations of life and death.
His eyes felt on the girl's wrist where her scar that she bore since her birth had become bigger under the blood stains, almost like a mark. It was shaped like a snake and under the crimson blood it did look like a viper had wrapped itself around her wrist.
When realisation hit him, Rhaegar almost stumbled down with the girl, but he soon composed himself.
The chosen one was supposed to be marked.
Could it have been the reason why Felicia would want to kill her daughter?
Rhaegar felt it had to be the reason. She was a seer like her mother but she was no ordinary seer, she was the chosen one.
He reached the maester's quarters and placed her under Pycelle's care while he waited outside.
Rhaegar realised that he had confronted the wrong woman, the key to his destiny was in his arms, mere moments ago and so the prince prayed to the gods that Amara Jordayne would survive the night, for she was the key. The young girl had survived the monstrous fires, there had to be a reason for it and Rhaegar believed that it was because of her importance in a far greater plan. She was the one he was looking for.
Amara would guide him to fulfill the prophecy of ice and fire, she would guide the prince who was promised.
She would be his prophetess.