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Year 276 of Aegon's Calendar, the Sunset Sea, southern Westeros.
A merchant ship battled its way through the raging waves, struggling to stay afloat. In the passenger cabin, a man lay weakly on a narrow bed.
His complexion was ashen, pale to the point of near translucence. The relentless torment of pain combined with a prolonged high fever had long robbed him of the ability to speak.
His name was Morton Costayne, the eldest son of Earl Houghton Costayne, heir to the Costayne family of the Three Towers in the Reach.
Eight months earlier, Morton had embarked on a journey to Essos, accompanied by two personal guards and servants.
When his travels concluded, he boarded a merchant ship bound for Oldtown, but unfortunately he fell ill on the ship near the end of the voyage.
The severity of his sickness, compounded by a violent storm that raged for five days, left him bedridden. Already prone to seasickness, Morton had not risen since he took to his bed.
Despite the tireless care of his fiancée and servants, the lack of adequate medical care and medicine on the ship made it impossible to keep the flame of life from dimming in his eyes.
Alice knelt beside his bed, tears streaming down her face like a river breaking through its dam. She held Morton's increasingly cold hands tightly in her own.
Alice possessed long, silvery-gold hair that cascaded like a waterfall down her slender back.
Her eyes were a captivating shade of violet, as enchanting and noble as violets blooming in a shadowy valley. Her beauty carried an air of mystery and majesty.
At this moment, her slightly swollen belly betrayed her pregnancy.
Morton gazed tenderly at the woman he loved, his eyes lingering on her silver hair and violet eyes. She was the greatest treasure he had found during his travels—a descendant of the dragonlords.
For three centuries, the silver-haired, violet-eyed Targaryen family had ruled Westeros through their dragons. Countless nobles and scholars regarded them as the closest beings to gods. Even though the dragons had been extinct for nearly a hundred years, many noble houses still yearned for Targaryen blood.
Among these, the Targaryen women were particularly sought after. Yet, the family had guarded their bloodline fiercely.
Even their bastards were confined to Dragonstone, with none allowed to escape. To this day, only a handful of families have successfully obtained their coveted lineage.
The Costayne family, to which Morton belonged, was a minor noble house in the Reach. Such fortune as obtaining Targaryen blood was something they had never even dared to imagine.
That was until Morton, during his travels, met Alice, a lowly inn servant. At first, he was captivated by her extraordinary beauty, but over time, his admiration grew into genuine love. In the end, Alice revealed a secret that thrilled him beyond measure.
But now, Morton's body could no longer hold on long enough for him to return to his family. Relying solely on letters was unlikely to persuade his stubborn and indifferent father. He knew this precious bloodline might ultimately never be accepted into his family.
Morton's gaze fell on Alice's slightly swollen belly, and he felt he had to do something. Summoning his remaining strength, he said, "Alice, our child will soon enter this world, but I fear I will not live to see that day. If it is a boy, name him Gavin. Gavin—this name will grant him courage and strength, so he can face all the trials life may bring."
Each word was forced out with immense effort, as if they came from the depths of his soul. Morton was gasping for breath, his voice weak and labored.
Alice held back her grief, though tears flowed freely down her face. Choking on her sobs, she nodded and replied in a trembling voice, "Yes, Morton. Our child will be named Gavin."
Morton's lips curved into a faint, strained smile, as if carrying his deep hope for the future. Then, he slowly closed his eyes. The ship continued to sway with the waves, but no motion could wake this father who was now slipping away forever.
After several more days of turbulent travel, the merchant ship finally reached the port of Oldtown. Morton's guards immediately sought out the Silent Sisters and appealed to the Hightower family for assistance, sending a raven to the Three Towers.
---
Within the castle of the Three Towers, Earl Houghton Costayne sat high upon his seat, holding the letter in his hands. His face was dark as a stormy sky, his gaze cold and piercing.
"This is a disgrace to the family!" Houghton roared, his voice thundering through the hall like a clap of lightning. "The child in her womb has stained the honor of my house. I will never allow my eldest son to marry a woman from Volantis!"
His furious outburst silenced the entire hall. No one dared to speak, not even the family retainers who had been casting hesitant glances at one another. Finally, Edric, the maester, hesitated before stepping forward to offer counsel.
"My lord," he began cautiously, "forgive my boldness, but with the Costayne family's line so thin, might it not be wise to consider the continuation of your bloodline? Perhaps—"
"No!" Houghton cut him off sharply. "That child is a bastard and will never be part of my family. I don't know what vile tricks that Volantis woman used to seduce my son, but I will never acknowledge them!"
Maester Edric opened his mouth to say more but was silenced by Houghton's raised hand.
The earl turned to look at his guards beside him and commanded, "Retrieve my son's body. Ensure it is brought back unharmed."
After a moment of hesitation, he added, "Bring that woman here as well. She may remain in the castle until the child is born, but after that, she must leave."
He then ordered the Maester beside him. "Send a raven to Highgarden. Inform the Tyrells that my heir has passed, and I intend to name Edmund as my new heir. Also, have Edmund resign from his post and return immediately."
"Yes, my lord," Edric replied reluctantly, bowing his head in resignation.
---
At the Three Towers, in a dimly lit guest room, Alice sat slumped on the edge of the bed, tears streaming unchecked down her face.
Morton had promised to marry her. He had sworn to return to Westeros and hold a wedding with her.
Though Morton was gone, Alice believed that she and her unborn child would still receive some recognition. But when she arrived at the Three Towers with hope in her heart, the harsh reality shattered her expectations.
No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to even meet the earl. Every plea was cruelly denied at the door. Her heart sank into a bottomless abyss, and sorrow and despair threatened to consume her.
---
Year 277 of Aegon's Calendar, six months later.
In the same dimly lit guest room, Alice's anguished cries echoed through the space. The excruciating pain nearly caused her to faint.
Finally, with the maester and the maids working tirelessly to assist her, a sharp cry pierced the air. The child was born.
Though the baby's hair was extremely sparse, its silvery hue was unmistakable. Maester Edric picked up the newborn and carefully observed him for a long time before handing him to the exhausted Alice.
"Congratulations," he said softly. "It's a boy."
He then ordered the maids to help care for the mother and child before hastily leaving the room.
After climbing a spiraling tower staircase, drained from both the climb and the day's events, Edric finally reached a door. Raising a trembling hand, he knocked.
Knock, knock, knock.
"Enter," came a voice from inside the room.
..
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[Chapter End's]
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