Lyanna's pale gray eyes were firmly drawn to the black castle before her.
In the past, when she was with Rhaegar, she could only listen to his descriptions. It was not until she witnessed these structures—both statues and fortresses—that she truly began to yearn for ancient Valyria.
The castles and buildings, standing like statues, were built so close to a volcano that it astonished her even more.
The volcano itself was still billowing smoke.
"Blood and fire are of the sa source," Lyanna murmured in the Valyrian tongue as she gazed at the smoking mountain.
"The oath of ice and fire," she added, gently caressing her rounded belly, recalling how she had persuaded Rhaegar to have a child with her.
A blush flashed across her cheeks.
Her husband, Rhaegar, bore the title of Prince of Dragonstone and was master of this place.
By extension, she was, in a way, the mistress of this castle. But Lyanna, known to many as the "Wolf Maiden," was not the type to be delighted rely by status.
Nor was this the reason she had married Rhaegar.
What worried her now was the letter from Viserys, which spoke of Rhaegar being gravely wounded, prompting her to quicken her steps.
"Your Grace, be careful," a handmaiden whispered softly.
Lyanna lowered her head to glance at the uneven stones beneath her feet, then stepped over them carefully. She could feel it: the day of her labor was imminent.
The tossing of the ship at sea had already left her feeling weak.
The group quickly arrived at the Stone Drum Tower, where Queen Rhaella was waiting for them.
Upon entering, Lyanna imdiately saw Rhaella seated high upon the main throne. She had seen Rhaella before, back when she and Rhaegar had t at the tournant.
Rhaella had been there too, watching as her son placed the blue rose wreath on Lyanna's lap, sowing the seeds of a tragic fate.
Lyanna noticed the complex look in Rhaella's eyes and understood why.
But the events leading to this mont were so tangled that even Lyanna, who lived through them, struggled to organize them clearly in her mind.
Rhaella did not speak to her directly at first but instead turned to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower, to inquire about their journey and safety.
"Thank you for your concern, Your Grace," Gerold replied. "We heard Prince Rhaegar was on Dragonstone, so we ca as quickly as we could. May I ask, how is His Highness now?"
Hearing this question, Rhaella looked as if she had misheard.
At the sa ti, Gerold's words seed to tear open an old wound deep in her heart.
Rhaella was too heartbroken to speak. Ser Willem Darry stepped forward to answer for her, "Prince Rhaegar... Prince Rhaegar fell in battle at the Trident."
"What?!"
"He's dead?!"
The three Kingsguard were visibly shaken.
The letter they had received clearly stated "the Prince is gravely wounded and has been moved to Dragonstone." How could the Queen now say he had died at the Trident?
They had assud they were coming to Dragonstone to regroup and continue the fight against the rebels.
The reason Lyanna and the others had believed the letter was precisely because the sender knew their secret location.
No one else knew that Rhaegar had hidden Lyanna in the Tower of Joy. And the belief that Rhaegar was still alive had been the only thing keeping Lyanna going during the long, arduous journey.
"This letter ca from King's Landing," Gerold said, handing the envelope to Rhaella along with the copper ring from the ssenger raven's leg.
There was no doubt: it ca from King's Landing.
At this mont, Lyanna stared intently at Rhaella, praying silently in her heart that the Queen was sohow mistaken.
But Rhaegar was her son. No mother would claim her child dead if there was still hope. Ser Arthur Dayne, Rhaegar's close friend, also stared at Rhaella, tense with worry.
He did not dare hope that Rhaegar was alive; he only wanted to understand what had happened.
Rhaella examined the copper ring and the letter, then asked when they had received it. After so calculations, she ca to a baffling conclusion.
The letter had been sent after Grand Maester Pycelle had died.
But how could that be?
By then, no one in the Red Keep should have been able to use the ssenger ravens.
As everyone was struggling to make sense of the situation, young Viserys stepped forward and said:
"I was the one who sent the letter."
In an instant, all eyes fell on the boy.
Rhaella, Lyanna, Arthur Dayne, and the Kingsguard all turned to stare at him with strange expressions.
Many thought he was simply spouting nonsense.
Especially Maester Faelor.
Ravenry was a specialized field, requiring rigorous training to breed and send ravens. It was a critical skill that determined whether a maester could serve a lord.
Viserys was just a child. He probably couldn't even read fluently yet, let alone master a complex craft.
But Viserys, guessing their thoughts, continued boldly. He knew that now that the Kingsguard had arrived, he could easily pretend ignorance.
Yet if he wanted them to serve him loyally in the future, he had to prove himself with sothing tangible.
He stood among them and said:
"It was two days before we received news of my brother's death. I had a dream. In it, Rhaegar told that Grand Maester Pycelle was a traitor.
He also told you were hiding in the Tower of Joy. He said if I told you he was dead, you would never co, so I had to say he was wounded and on Dragonstone."
Viserys had rehearsed this story in his mind countless tis and spoke smoothly, making it sound entirely believable.
Arthur and the others were reluctant to believe such a tale.
Even when Rhaegar had said that Lyanna's unborn child might be the prophesied savior, they hadn't fully accepted it.
They had stayed at the Tower of Joy primarily for another reason.
Among them, Maester Faelor was the most shocked. Perhaps due to the isolation of Dragonstone, it was only now that he learned of Pycelle's betrayal.
This revelation could bring trendous sha to the Citadel.
Still, a dream telling Viserys about a traitor? Could such a thing be considered evidence?
He decided he would ask Ser Willem about it later.
As the others stood silently, trying to process this fantastical story, Lyanna suddenly collapsed without warning.
Every ti they discussed Rhaegar's death, it felt like a knife to her heart. Now, with certainty that her husband was truly gone, her last pillar of strength crumbled completely.
Her chest felt as if it had been cleaved open.
Perhaps from sheer exhaustion, or an unwillingness to face the brutal reality, Lyanna fell to the ground.
"My lady! My lady!" her handmaiden, Wylla, cried out, alarming everyone present.
Wylla suddenly noticed the large wet patch beneath her.
"Her water's broken! The lady's water has broken."
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