The Northern Dragon

CH 9: 278 A.C.

It was 278 A.C., a year which had begun with the worst winter in history to memory at the time. The dark clouds had quickly covered the skies of Westeros and bathed the lands with heavy snow, hitting the continent before anyone had time to prepare.

Winter had arrived in Westeros too suddenly, and although the Maesters of the Citadel had predicted it would happen, they had no idea it would be this quick and this harsh.

The rivers and lakes, even parts of the ocean, had frozen instantly and along with them, animals and plants died out. Soon enough, people began dropping.

The temperatures being so low that people died in their sleep, their whole forms covered in ice and frost.

That terrible winter continued for five months and as the time neared for her baby to be born, Princess Elia Martell could feel her anxiety increasing.

Her tanned hand stroked her big belly as she laid on top of her bed, only the feeling of her baby kicking and restlessly moving calming her down slightly.

Even with all the warm covers on her, the princess could still feel her body trembling from the cold and she was sure her baby most probably felt it too.

She feared her first child dying in her arms before she even got the chance to see their eyes open or their first smile. It was terrifying to just think about it.

Elia tried to take her mind off the images running through her mind, but nothing really calmed her.

The realm was in a terrible state, people dying everywhere. Her siblings were stuck in Dorne and she had no way of finding out how they were as no raven or messenger could survive this weather.

She was finally snapped from her thoughts once the door opened, revealing the man she had married.

Seeing her face, Rhaegar went to her side and took her hand, "It's going to be alright. Nothing is going to happen to our child."

Elia's eyes watered and she leaned her head against his chest, the man kissing her head as he brushed her auburn curls. His other hand falling on top of the one she had over her belly.

He could not blame her for the turmoil inside her soul as he felt it himself, only able to cover it better.

This winter was harsh and for a baby to survive it, even if they were being protected by the castle's walls, it sounded nearly impossible.

If it was unlikely for a grown man, then for a newborn that could not even see what was happening around them, there was no much hope.

Or at least that's what the Maesters had warned them about. Most of them saying that their child was likely to die before it took its first breath of air.

The only one who had rejected that fact was his great uncle and the Maester in the Night's Watch, Aemon Targaryen.

The poor man had been in the Red Keep when the storm first hit and was now stuck with them. It was something the couple was grateful for, but at the same time, it had left the Night's Watch with no one to take care of the sick during such terrible times.

The time had soon come and Elia felt as if her body would break as pain coursed through her, her screams and cries resounding in the room and halls.

The midwives rushed all over the room, bringing blankets and hot water for the princess as Maester Aemon did his work, able to do much better than Pycelle ever could even in his blind state.

Queen Rhaella entered the room in anxiety, her hands tight together as she stared at the brunette. Having lost so many children herself, she did not wish for such a pain to befall anybody else, less so her son and his wife.