FOREVER WINTER — PROLOGUE
Revelation ✧*:･ﾟ

Highgarden, 281 AC

Alerie Tyrell

Lady Alerie Tyrell sat down onto the soft cushion of her four-poster feather bed, her left hand raising to her mouth in shock as she reread the letter she held clutched in her right. Across the room, Lavinia was snoring softly in her cradle, peacefully unaware of the revelation that had just wracked through her mother. Whilst Margaery was propped up against some pillows on the floor, her chubby hands playing with the wooden figurines Willas had whittled for her during his lessons a few days prior.

Alerie had insisted her daughters be left with her in her chamber whenever possible throughout the day whilst the unrest in the realm continued to rage. Margaery and Lavinia were both too young to begin proper lessons and Alerie did not care enough about custom to leave them to the care of the wet nurse Mace had demanded they hire. Her children were her life — their place was by her side. Especially her daughters.

Being a woman in this world was cruel and Alerie was determined to protect her two little girls from it for as long as possible.

She had known, almost immediately after holding Margaery in her arms for the first time, not even eighteen moons gone, as she looked down into her daughter's sweet face, that she wanted to have another girl before her time was through. That she wanted Margaery to have a little sister to play with. Alerie hadn't planned on it happening quite so soon after Margaery's birth, however, but fate works in miraculous ways — what with Mace having to ride off to war not long after Lavinia had been conceived. And Alerie wouldn't trade her little Lavinia for the world.

She raised her eyes from the blood-stained parchment she held in her hands to look at the babe. Her youngest daughter.

If what her uncle wrote was true, then another babe had just been born, barely a fortnight's hard ride from Highgarden and up near the desolate Red Mountains of Dorne. A babe with the power and name to change everything.

A babe who had lost everything he had before he even knew he had it.

Alerie remembered Lyanna Stark from the tourney at Harrenhal in the year before the rebellion that the bards had since dubbed 'the year of the false spring'. She was a beautiful, wild, unruly young girl, who had — according to her uncle, at least — captured the heart of Prince Rhaegar and sparked this war. And if Gerold's words were to be believed, then the girl, who had been barely fifteen name days the last time Alerie had seen her, had now also borne the prince a son.

Aemon Targaryen. A boy who most would judge the rightful King of Westeros.

When news had broken of Rhaegar's defeat at the Trident — of the Usurper, Robert Baratheon's, victory — Alerie had known it would not be long until the siege of Storm's End her husband had been in charge of would end and he would return home to his family. She knew Mace would kneel before the new king without argument. Robert had promised mercy to the High Lords that had fought against him as long as they bent the knee. And her husband would not be such an idiot as to refuse. Not with their family in such a precarious position.

Besides, the Mad King, Rhaegar, even his poor wife, Elia Martell, and their babes — Aegon and Rhaenys — had all been killed. Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys had fled to Dragonstone, where it was said the queen grew large with child, and Alerie knew it would not be long until Robert's wrath caught up with them too. She only hoped Rhaella and her children would be wise enough to flee to Essos for reprieve. After what Robert had condoned done to Elia, Aegon and Rhaenys, Alerie doubted he would spare Rhaella a kinder fate.

There were no dragons left on the Westerosi mainland for the loyalist armies to rally around. Or so the realm thought.

No, if Gerold brought the truth then there was one more dragon. And not only that, but a legitimate dragon. For the letter Alerie held in her hands spoke of an annulment between Elia and the prince, and a subsequent marriage between Rhaegar and the Stark girl that made Lyanna's boy the prime contender to be heir to the throne now that his siblings were dead.

And thus, Robert's biggest threat.

Alerie felt fear grip her then. She knew Ned Stark would be on his way to Dorne soon — perhaps he was already there — for there was no way Ser Gerold Hightower would risk sending a letter of this importance to his niece unless he believed the end to be near. He might've sent a raven to Baelor, for Alerie's brother was an old friend of both Rhaegar and Elia (more than a friend to the Dornish princess, according to the most salacious of whispers), but Baelor had been kept under tight lock and key by their father, Lord Leyton, since the outbreak of the war.

Lord Leyton Hightower had not trusted his son not to do something foolish in response to Robert Baratheon's vow to destroy the Targaryens, and Alerie doubted Gerold would risk his nephew intercepting his letter. Leyton was not as sympathetic to the Targaryens' plight as the rest of the Reach lords. He still bore the age-old bitterness against the Targaryens for naming the Tyrells as Paramount's of the Reach instead of the Lords of Oldtown, and he had only joined the war in the Targaryens' favour because of Alerie's husband, Mace. He could not very well ignore his good-son's call to arms, after all.

Alerie knew that Ned Stark wanted more than anything to bring his sister home. But what of the babe? The question still remained whether Lord Eddard would be able to betray his lifelong friend in order to bring his nephew back to Winterfell. Surely, he would not let Lyanna Stark and her son die. The Quiet Wolf was known for his honour. And there was nothing honourable about the killing of women and children. Even if they threatened the throne of a man you considered a brother.

Eddard Stark's alleged reaction to the murders of Elia and her own children was evidence enough of that.

Olenna's spies had spoken of a massive blowout between Robert and Ned when the former had refused to punish Tywin Lannister for what he and his men had done to the 'Dragonspawn'. And Alerie could not blame Ned Stark for his fury. When she herself had learnt of what Robert Baratheon had supposedly called the dead children of his enemy as their battered corpses were laid before him, she had lost her hold on her stomach.

It seemed they had traded a cruel king for a complacent one, allowing his men to do his wicked bidding whilst he saved face atop the Iron Throne and claimed the moral high ground.

No, there was no way Ned Stark would allow the same sick fate to befall Aemon as Robert had allowed to befall Aegon and Rhaenys. Especially, if the child was his own kin. Kinslaying was admonished in the South as indicated by the Seven, but despised by the North and its old gods. There existed no greater offence in the eyes of the northerners — except maybe the breaking of Guest Right. And honour aside, Ned Stark was not evil enough to commit such an act.

But that begged the question, what would Lord Eddard do?

Alerie pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth in worry as she rescanned the letter. A part of her expected the words before her to change the longer she stared at them, because what was she to do with them? This was not something she could figure out on her own. This was too much for her. And Gerold would not have wished for his niece to handle this all by herself.

But she had to do something. In her hands she held the key to ensuring that her family would persevere even in the wake of the loyalist loss against the rebels. A key that could ensure her own children's prosperity and safety.

Which meant only one thing, Alerie needed to speak to her good-mother.

Olenna Tyrell would know what they should do about Ned Stark, about Gerold's letter, about Lyanna's son — with all this new information. The Queen of Thorns always had an answer, even for what seemed the most perilous of questions. She was one of the sharpest minds in the entirety of the Seven Kingdoms. A fact that made her both feared and respected and earned her the title she relished so much. And Ser Gerold Hightower certainly knew this when he sent his letter to Highgarden, instead of Oldtown.

Calling for her maid to fetch the wet nurse with a reluctant sigh, Alerie made her way over to where her daughters were located by the window of the vast chambers. She brushed her hands through Margaery's tiny curls before coming to a stop at the edge of Lavinia's cradle.

Looking down at the delicate face of her youngest child, Alerie knew one thing for certain — they could not let the same fate befall Lyanna Stark's babe as they had to Elia Martell's. Loyalists and rebels alike had been too late to stop Tywin Lannister from murdering the future queen and her children, but they could not make the same mistake this time.

Too much blood had been spilt in this war. Too many innocents had lost their lives already. They — the Tyrells, the Starks, the Seven themselves — could not let another child die just so some man who fancied himself king could sit on the Iron Throne. No one would be safe as long as Robert Baratheon ruled Westeros with Tywin Lannister as his puppet master.

Already word of Robert's marriage to Cersei Lannister was spreading and Alerie had no doubts about the king's nature, nor that of his good-father. Rhaegar may not have been a good man, but he would have made a much better king than any of the lechers and lickspittles that rose in his place.

The Mother protect Aemon, Alerie thought as she leant down to place a kiss on Lavinia's forehead. The Mother protect us all.

Gerold Hightower had sent his letter to Alerie, not her father, or brother, or husband, for a reason.

It was time for her to let Olenna Tyrell in on all she knew. It was time for Alerie Tyrell to enter the Game of Thrones. For Aemon Targaryen, for Lyanna Stark, for Queen Rhaella, for the love a mother bears for her children, and for Alerie's own daughters. She would be Alerie Hightower of Oldtown no more. Now — more than the day she had stood in the halls of the Starry Sept and said her vows to her husband — she was a Tyrell. A rose.

And the Seven protect those who dared venture near her thorns.

author's notes.

i've gone with the shows version of elia and rhaegar's marriage being annulled pre-jon for this fic since it makes most sense for the plots i have in mind. however, i don't think that will be the case in the books, and jon being technically 'legit' isn't gonna stop people from questioning him. esp when it serves their own means ;)

also changed his targ name to 'aemon' instead of jaehaerys because a) i like it better and b) i think it's more likely to be his name in the books.

hope you all enjoyed!
- cat xoxo