The Long Winter | Jaime Lannister X Stark OC | GOT/ASOIAF

Sand And Sentinel Pines

She had ridden with her brother and his army to Storm's End. Lord Stark had forced the surrender of Mace Tyrell and greeted the now-skeletal Stannis Baratheon, Robert's younger brother who had been trusted with holding the castle. And hold it he certainly had. Judging from how emaciated every inhabitant of Storm's End was, whilst the Tyrells had feasted outside their walls, Ross doubted that anyone with a less iron will would have been capable of doing what Stannis had.

From there, she, Ned and small group including Howland Reed, Willam Dustin, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull and Mark Ryswell had ridden on into Dorne in search of Lyanna. Elbert Arryn, the only one of Brandon's companions who had survived the Black Cells, had wanted to come with them, but was talked out of going given his weakened state. Their journey had led them to the more temperate lands of northern Dorne, rather than the deserts of the south, and having spent several nights at Starfall, a servant had directed them to the Tower of Joy, about a week's ride away.

The three Kingsguard were waiting for them. Arthur Dayne, Gerold Hightower and Oswell Whent. And they insisted on fighting them, to prevent Ned from getting to Lyanna, which boiled Ross' blood at the pointless futility. She was forced to hang back at a distance, terrified that she was going to see another brother die in front of her, as one by one their companions fell. The Kingsguard were all formidable fighters, Arthur Dayne especially, whom Jaime idolised. He was the last one of them standing; him, Ned and little Howland Reed, whom Lyanna had defended at Harrenhal, donning the armour of the Knight of the Laughing tree.

When Reed stabbed the Sword of the Morning in the back before Ned got the final blow, Ross was already urging her horse forward, jumping off whilst still in a canter with Ren strapped to her chest, same as he had been the whole journey, rushing towards the tower door. Ross hurried up the stairs, calling for her sister, heart pounding at the thought of seeing her again.

"Lya. Lya, it's me, where are you?"

"Ross?" A weak voice called.

Ross burst through the door, only to stop dead in horror. Lyanna was lying on a bed soaked in blood, nursing a newborn infant to her chest. Her sister could barely raise her head to greet her.

"Ross," Tears trickled down Lyanna's face. "Are you real?"

"Yes," She rushed to Lyanna's side. "What happened to you, Lya, I - "

"I'm so sorry," The girl - for she was still a girl, not yet seventeen - cried. "I was so stupid. He said he would get me out of the match with Robert, and then Father and Brandon died and I wanted to leave but he wouldn't let me, and he was obsessed with all these bloody prophecies, he wouldn't let me go home - "

"None of this is your fault," Ross was crying too, now, seeing her beautiful, bold sister in such a state. "None of it. Is this - ?" She looked at the child.

"Jon," Lyanna sniffed. "His name is Jon. Rhaegar wanted him to be a girl called Visenya. The third head of the dragon. He was mad, Ross, as mad as his father. I'm glad Jon's a boy, and I've given him the most ordinary name I could. Who is this?" She pointed at Ren.

"My son," Ross had to give a weak laugh at the absurdity of it all.

Lyanna's eyes bulged. "What? How? Who's the father?" For the first time, she sounded like her sister.

Fuck it. "Jaime Lannister. No one else knows that, so don't be a blabbermouth,"

"Ross!" Her sister laughed, half stunned, half impressed, and Ross was laughing with her through her tears. Then Lyanna winced in pain, and the laughter stopped altogether.

"Lya, you're really hurt,"

"I know," She said. "I birthed him on my own, just hours before you came here. I was so scared, Ross, I thought I was going to die,"