1 REBIRTH

Third POV

Dorne, Tower of Joy, 281 AC

Amidst the scorching sands of Dorne, where the sun beat down relentlessly upon the ancient stone towers, the Tower of Joy stood as a sentinel against the desert winds. In this unforgiving land of heat and harsh terrain Inside the dimly lit chambers of the tower, the air was heavy with anticipation and anxiety. Lady Lyanna Stark, her face contorted with pain, lay upon the bed, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she fought through the throes of labor. Around her, the midwives moved with practiced efficiency, their voices hushed as they attended to their lady.

Outside the room, the cries of Lady Lyanna echoed down the Tower of joy, a haunting melody that spoke of both pain and hope. In the midst of this tumultuous scene, a lone figure stood outside the room, his heart heavy with worry. Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard under King Aerys II Targaryen, Listed as his liege wife endured the trials of childbirth, his thoughts consumed by fear for her safety and that of the unborn child.

As the hours passed, the cries grew louder, more desperate, until at last, with a final, gut-wrenching scream, Lady Lyanna's struggles ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity. And then, in the stillness of the room, a new sound emerged – the soft, plaintive wail of a newborn babe.

Cregan Snow came into the world with a gasp, his first breath drawn with the weight of destiny upon his tiny shoulders. As he lay in his mother's arms, he could feel the warmth of her embrace, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against his cheek. But beneath the surface, there was a sense of unease, a feeling of being thrust into a world that was both unfamiliar and overwhelming.

As Cregan struggled to make sense of his surroundings, he was overcome by a wave of discomfort, the air thick and stifling against his lungs. With each breath, he felt as though he were drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of his own existence. And yet, even as he struggled to draw air into his lungs, there was a strange sense of clarity, a heightened awareness of the world around him.

Slowly, tentatively, Cregan opened his eyes, his vision blurred and hazy as he took in the dimly lit room. Shadows danced upon the walls, casting eerie shapes that seemed to flicker and fade with each passing moment. And yet, amidst the darkness, there was a flicker of light – a single candle burning bright in the corner of the room, its flame a beacon of hope in the midst of despair.

As Cregan's gaze swept across the room, he felt a sense of disorientation wash over him, the world spinning and shifting in a dizzying blur. He could hear the muffled voices of the midwives, their words lost in the cacophony of sound that surrounded him. And yet, amidst the chaos, there was a sense of peace, a feeling of warmth and security that seemed to wrap around him like a comforting blanket.

Exhausted from his ordeal, Cregan closed his eyes, his body growing heavy with sleep. As he drifted off into slumber, he could feel the gentle rhythm of his mother's heartbeat, a familiar lullaby that carried him away to dreams of a world yet to be explored. And in that moment, as the darkness closed in around him, Cregan knew that his journey was only just beginning.

A few hours later 

The midday sun beat down mercilessly upon the Tower of Joy, its golden rays casting long shadows across the barren landscape of Dorne. Inside the chamber where Cregan Snow lay, the air was thick with tension as Lady Lyanna Stark cried out in agony, her screams echoing through the stone walls.

Startled awake by the sound of his mother's distress, Cregan's eyes fluttered open, his heart racing as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. The room was bathed in a harsh light, the midday sun streaming through the narrow windows, casting stark shadows upon the floor.

As Cregan pushed himself upright, his gaze fell upon his mother, her face contorted with pain as she fought through the agony of childbirth. Beside her, the midwives moved with frantic urgency, their hands trembling as they tried to staunch the flow of blood that stained the sheets.

Outside the tower, the clash of swords rang out like thunder, the metallic clang of steel against steel echoing through the air. Eddard Stark, Cregan's uncle, battled fiercely against Ser Arthur Dayne and Ser Gerold Hightower, the last remnants of the Kingsguard loyal to the fallen Targaryen dynasty.

As the battle raged on, Cregan's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He believed all this to be a dream, fear gnawed at his insides, a cold knot of dread that threatened to consume him whole.

And then, with a sudden, sickening thud, the sounds of battle ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that hung heavy in the air. Cregan's heart froze in his chest as he listened, his senses sharpened to a razor's edge.

In the stillness of the tower, Eddard Stark emerged victorious, his sword stained with the blood of his enemies. With a heavy heart, he ascended the stairs, his footsteps echoing through the empty halls as he made his way to his sister's side.

As he reached the top of the tower, Eddard's breath caught in his throat as he beheld the sight before him. His sister Lyanna lay upon the bed, her face pale and drawn, her body weak from the loss of blood. Beside her, the midwives stood, their eyes wide with fear and uncertainty.

With a trembling hand, Eddard reached out to his sister, his voice choked with emotion as he called out her name. "Lyanna," he whispered, his heart breaking at the sight of her pain. "What happened?"

With a weary sigh, Lyanna looked up at her brother, her eyes brimming with tears. "It was Rhaegar," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "He... he told me that he would keep us safe. But it was all a lie. By the time I realized the truth, it was too late."

As she spoke, Lyanna's strength began to wane, her breaths growing shallow and labored. With a trembling hand, she reached out to her brother, her fingers grasping desperately for his.

"Promise me, Ned," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of battle outside. "Promise me that you will protect them. Promise me that you will keep them safe."

Eddard's heart clenched at his sister's words, his eyes filling with tears as he nodded solemnly. "I swear it, Lyanna," he vowed, his voice choked with emotion. "I will protect them with my life. I swear it by the old gods and the new."

And with that solemn promise, Lady Lyanna Stark closed her eyes, her breaths growing fainter with each passing moment. And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in shadow, Cregan Snow slept as his mother spoke her last words.

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I called them the names that Ned will call them. No reason to let the mom have a say when they wont use it. 

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