Light the Way

CHAPTER 1. prologue

RHONDA

Nine moons and seven days.

That was how long Rhonda had suffered for.

A cool evening breeze whispered through her and her husband's chambers, sending shivers down her spine. This was the evening she had feared - the one she realised with each passing moment that she was widely unprepared for. Thoughts of her mother and the comforting embrace of her home raced through her mind as she fought to breathe through the waves of pain. Rhonda shut her eyes tightly as the searing agony gradually dulled into a persistent ache. Fear and isolation gripped her, and, for the first time in ages, she wished she were not miles away from home. Where was her Lord husband?

The maester at the foot of her bed came closer as he urged her to keep pushing. "My Lady, you must let the child come out. You have lost too much blood."

Rhonda groaned, yearning more than ever to hear her mother's calming voice. That voice, however, seemed to drift further and further away with each painful push. A wave of heat swept over her, and fear seized her heart. She sobbed for her mother, for a fleeting second fearing she might never see her again.

In desperate whispers, she prayed to the new gods, wishing her mother had prepared her for the ordeal of bringing forth life - which so much felt like death.

"Oh gods, please, help me!" Rhonda looked up at the unadorned stone walls that seemed to be closing in on her.

The maester's stern voice cut through the air, pulling Rhonda back to the stark reality of her chambers. "Lady Rowan, you must gather your strengths. The child is almost here."

Rhonda nodded weakly, her body drenched in sweat. She could not see much through the blur of pain and exhaustion, but the maester's urgency echoed in her ears. With a renewed determination, she summoned every ounce of energy left within her and pushed with all her might. The room seemed to spin as the pain intensified, making her grip the sheets beneath her in agony.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, Rhonda's mind teetered on the edge of consciousness. Images of her life danced before her eyes - her childhood, the day she met Baelor, the joys and sorrows they shared. But looming over it all was the fear that she might never hold her child in her arms.

Finally, with a guttural cry that echoed in the stone walls, Rhonda felt a strange mixture of relief and dread. The maester's expression shifted from urgency to astonishment as he cradled a tiny, squirming bundle in his hands. A baby girl, covered in the remnants of the struggle for life, let out a feeble cry.

"It's a miracle," the maester murmured, his eyes wide with disbelief. "This child should not have survived. The gods have answered your cries, and they have blessed her."

Rhonda lay there, panting and weak, unable to comprehend this miracle. She turned her gaze toward the baby, her heart pounding. The maester worked swiftly to clean and swaddle the newborn, his hands moving with practised precision as the silver links of his chains clinked together, a stark reminder of his expertise in medicine and healing.

"She is a fighter, this one," he said, voice filled with awe for the girl. "A true miracle. The gods have smiled upon her."

Rhonda, though still reeling from the ordeal, managed a weak smile. She reached out to touch her daughter's fingers. As the maester placed the baby in her arms, Rhonda felt an indescribable connection - a surge of maternal instinct that eclipsed the pain and fear she had endured.

In the hushed chamber, a new life had emerged against all odds. Rhonda cradled her daughter, Alina, close to her heart, whispering words of love and gratitude to the gods who had spared them both. 

"My Light."

Little did she know that this resilient, miraculous child would indeed go on to do great things, as foretold by the maester and whispered throughout the halls of Hightower.