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THERE WAS A STORM IN ALIA'S MIND. A storm in her dreams, accompanied by a rather strange woman in a long, black cloak that concealed her face. To say her dream was unsettling was perhaps a rather over-exaggerated understatement. It made her feel uncomfortable to watch, and having no control over where she was or what she saw made it worse.
The storm was horrible and violent, with thunder crashing overhead at any given opportunity, and harsh winds creating monstrous waves. Alia was observing an unsettling scene by a dock, she soon realised. There were ships tied to the ports, with sailors shouting as they fought against the waves that smashed their boats against the stone walls. The sky was black and imposing, with clouds racing by at a speed she had never before seen – almost like the clouds were trying to run out of the sky.
But the woman held her hood down with one hand, the other tucked away somewhere she could not see. She fought against the wind and the rain, and pushed onward despite the thunder rolling nearby. One of the sailors shouting at the docks noticed someone approaching him – the woman – and turned around.
"Take her!" The strange woman yelled at the sailor suddenly, thrusting something out from beneath her cloak.
Alia's eyes narrowed – what was it she was holding? The strange bundle in her arms cried out as the wind pulled at the expensive sheets it was covered in. A baby! Alia's heart lurched. But the woman continued to hold the baby out to the sailor and did not give in, even when he stood as still as a statue and watched her in surprise. The woman's arms began to shake with desperation.
"Don't just stand there!" The woman cried in a voice that sounded broken. Alia still couldn't see her face. "Take her!"
"No, my lady," the sailor said evenly.
The sailor was an older gentleman, with a face wrinkled and withered by many days out on the open water. He had olive-y skin, and hair that once must have been black (but was now flecked with streaks of grey). His arms were well-muscled and now sagged due to his age, but he looked strong – competent, and yet unsure. Where were they? Essos? Pentos? No, it couldn't be. Alia didn't recognise the port...
The woman's hood was blown back by a gust of wind, the same gust that tugged at the baby's blanket and exposed its pink toes that wriggled like tiny little worms. Black hair tumbled from out of the hood, revealing the woman's identity. Alia found she couldn't quite breathe.
She was the woman from her dream the other night, the one at the joust, with Rhaegar! Alia wanted to scream, to say anything, to get the woman to look for her, but she couldn't speak. No words formed, and Alia didn't quite know where it was she stood.
"What?" The strange woman snapped, taken aback. It was bold of the sailor to refuse an obvious noblewoman's command.
"I said no. I cannot."
The woman surged forward and grabbed the sailor's arm whilst holding the baby closer to her chest. "You must! You don't understand!"
