283 AC
The tower burns brightly against the darkness of the night. The flames would no doubt be noticed soon, but by the time anyone arrived to investigate, it would be over. In front of the tower many corpses lie on the ground, most with crossbow bolts sticking out of them. Some with arrows. Armed men in plain clothing walk around checking if any are still alive, there aren't.
Above the carnage, stands a woman with a triumphant smile on her tanned face. Her black hair moves softly with the nocturnal Dornish winds while her dark eyes shine with mirth. It had been easier than she thought. Knights accustomed to duels are rarely prepared for treachery. All she had to do is wait for the Quiet Wolf to come and lure the knights out from their hiding place. As the two groups were ready to draw their swords for a honorable test of skills, she and her men came out and started shooting indiscriminately.
This was no duel nor a battle, for these could be lost. She had no intention of losing, her mission was too great, too important to risk failure. It was a massacre, because it had to be.
Several Kingsguard and Northern Lords were no match for twenty men with good aim. It still amazed her that only a few among them had shields. How did-
A baby cries out behind her, tearing the woman from her thoughts. She turns around and walks over to a wet nurse holding the child.
"Shush, little Snow. You are safe in our hands. You'll never walk a path of cold. Your name shall be Daemon, I find it to be a good name all things considered," she speaks to the boy with a smile.
The woman then turns to one of her many companions. An older man, with graying hair and a grandfatherly smile.
"Qyburn, you are to ensure this boy lives. A wet nurse is one thing, but we have a long journey ahead of us," she commands and the older man nods.
"Of course, I have prepared suitable accommodations for the child, the basket saddle has been tested," he comments and she returns his words with a nod as well.
Another man walks up to her and hands her a sword. It is a beautiful weapon, with a milky-white blade. There would be no more mornings for it, at least not anytime soon.
"I almost forgot about it, but it will serve as a great bargaining piece in the future. For now, none can know we have it," she comments and hands over the sword back to the man who carefully covers it with cloth.
She gives the corpses another look-over. What a waste. The changes in the North alone would be interesting to see, though of course she had no intention of visiting to check. Not in this decade at least. She walks closer to one of the bodies, one of the Northerners. After so many years, she does not even remember their names. Well, except Stark and Reed, of course. But the rest? A Dustin maybe? Doesn't matter now.
"Bury them all in a single, unmarked grave. We can't have people coming over and giving the corpses unwanted attention, you'd be amazed what even a few little birds can divine from a few bones," she orders to several men who immediately get to work.
She does feel a bit of shame at her actions, despicable that they are. Still, had she spared even at least one person, they would no doubt spread unwanted news of her existence. She can't have it, not yet. It is too early. It would be more than a dozen years before she would be able to act.
Eventually all the bodies are buried deep enough and the soil flattened sufficiently to ensure discovery is unlikely. Anyone arriving to investigate shall only find charred remains of an empty tower. As the group mounts their horses and slowly begins leaving the Massacre of Joy behind them, the woman looks to the child once more. He is calm now, thankfully.
"One taken, two more to go."
She would soon have a ship to catch.