The Lost One

Chapter One: A Dreamer is Born

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the Black Jewels Novels.

Author's Note: Greetings gentle readers and welcome to the Lost One, the merging of two of my all time favourite literary works. I feel that the cross is horribly under-represented and decided that I finally had enough plot to work with and to start posting. Here's hoping I can channel even a drop of Anne Bishop's genius into my writing.

With that in mind I feel it is my duty to inform you that this particular chapter has be re-worked at least 102 times. Let me know if it's too choppy.

SPOILERS: This fic will contain spoilers for the entire set of Black Jewels Novels this may eventually include Twilight's Dawn. If you haven't read all of the books you may be spoiled. You have been warned.

WARNING: As this is a cross for a very sensual, violent, dark fantasy novel you can expect things such as sexual themes, violence, torture, mutilation, death, coarse language, gore...etc. M-rated for a reason people!

Now, on to the story!

The Keep in Terrielle, July 23rd, Night

Shira stopped and grit her teeth as another painful contraction gripped her, pain slashing across her lower back and abdomen. Her short nails dug into her palms leaving yet another line of little purple crescent moons.

"It won't be long now," soothed the apprentice midwife pausing in her bustle to rub the young mother-to-be's back gently.

"It will be long enough," Shira panted continuing her slow walking lap of the room one gruelling step at a time.

Trina laughed a little as she prepared towels and blankets.

Shira had taken a guest room in the public area of the Keep in Terrielle for the duration of her pregnancy in order to hide it from pretty much everyone. The only other people who knew the truth of her condition was her friend Trina, who was helping her through the birth, and the Keep's Seneschal, Draca.

As far as her family was concerned she was taking time off to practice and do research for her music. After she had refused the suit of Peyton SaDiablo they simply believed she was too distraught by the difficulty of her decision to turn down the marriage proposal of a powerful well connected Warlord Prince, or perhaps that she was a little unsure that said grey-jewelled Warlord Prince would abide by Protocol and let her be when he was so clearly madly in love with her. They were of the mind that a break while it might hurt her a bit financially would be the best thing for her in the long run. Shira also suspected they were glad to be rid of her moody sighing and crying.

They had no idea she was pregnant and neither did Peyton even though he was the father. He couldn't know. None of them could know, she would not put her child or her family in danger by having them know about each other. The SaDiablos were not a family to cross and in deciding to keep the child she had most certainly crossed them.

She screamed suddenly as a contraction caught her unprepared and in the middle of her musings. Instinctively her muscles clenched and she pushed, trying to expel Peyton's child from her body. It was a mark of his power that despite the brews she took religiously against conception he had still managed to plant his seed. Shira halfway suspected Peyton had stopped taking his own brews well into their relationship because he would have been ecstatic to rear a child by her and with her.

"Trina," she hissed in warning as she felt the contractions intensify.

"Come now Shira, I've got the bath all ready for you," Trina cooed helping her into the small tub.

Shira had just settled herself into the comfortably warm water when another stronger contraction took hold and she became a slave to the ancient motions of childbirth.

It didn't take more than a few minutes for the child to be born and Shira slumped tiredly in the tub of lukewarm and bloody water, exhausted despite the relative ease of the delivery, while Trina cut the cord with a bit of Craft and washed the blood from its body as it squalled. The young midwife wrapped the child carefully in the fine white blanket cooing softly and it quieted.

"It's a boy, Shira, a fine healthy son," beamed Trina setting the child down in the prepared little cradle and helping the musician out of the tub washing her with new, clean water bundling her up in a soft black robe and settling her into the massive bed.

"Oh, I ache," she moaned as she lay back against the pillows and let Trina activate the small healing web that would ease her recovery.

"You had it very easy Shira. I've never seen a babe born so easily to someone with a jewel rank darker than Tiger's-Eye, and your son is so adorable,"

"Bring him here Trina," Shira ordered quietly, "I want to hold him,"

The midwife did as she asked with the happy sigh of one who has a particular fondness for small children and none of her own.

"Here you are, mind his head," she instructed.

Shira shifted slightly getting the warm weight of the child situated.

"What is his name?" she asked with a warm smile as she bustled about clean.

As Shira held her son in her arms awkwardly and looked down into his trusting baby blue eyes that were the same as every child of her race, thanking the Darkness that she couldn't see even a hint of his father in his wrinkled formless baby features, no gold in his eyes, light skin and though his hair was black so was hers. Shira let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and considered Trina's question. She felt that her son deserved this one gift from her at least, a token of his heritage to carry with him after she gave him up, and she thought very carefully before she bestowed it.

"His name is Graeson Moray," she said quietly, "Can I have a minute alone with him, Trina?" she asked.

"Of course, just let me know if you need anything,"

"Thank you,"

Trina left quietly shutting the door behind her and Shira wished fervently that there was some way she could erase the woman's memory.

"What am I going to do with you, Graeson Moray SaDiablo?" Shira asked the child.

She loved Peyton she really did but, she wasn't good enough for his family, not for the Hekatah and certainly not for the High Lord. If he knew there was a child…

A familiar frisson of fear ran up her spine.

Peyton and his family weren't Blood like the rest of the Realm was Blood, they were something else entirely. All that dark power was certainly enough to take the child and do whatever they wanted to it and as the ruling family in Dhemlan they wouldn't even have to pay a price. There would be no stopping them, and, as Warlord Princes in the grips of a fury, no reasoning with them. Even though she wasn't thrilled about the unplanned complication of a child before marriage she certainly didn't want Graeson to die and to be honest after nine months of carrying him and playing for him and thinking only of his future she was also reluctant to give him up to a surrogate family.

If they knew about him they would kill her son, she was sure, she'd tainted their bloodline, they wouldn't let that be. They couldn't let that be. As soon as they knew…

Shira choked on a sob. The baby whimpered.

"Hush, it's alright little one, it's going to be fine," she lied, tears streaming down her face.

That was why she'd made absolutely sure as few people as humanly possible had known about her pregnancy. The SaDiablos were a powerful family with connections in all the Realms, and a chance encounter with someone who recognized her and the fact that she'd most recently been with Peyton could spell death for her child. Hellfires, even the Keep's own librarian, Geoffrey, was good friends with the High Lord.

What was she supposed to do? Maybe she should have just rid herself of the child when she first knew about her pregnancy, before he was actually a person. She felt horrible just thinking about the possibility.

"I'm sorry," she told the baby, "This isn't the kind of world I wanted you to grow up in,"

The baby whimpered and cried nuzzling his face against her breasts which were heavy and sore and full of milk.

She closed her eyes but could still see him a tiny new-bright flicker without a color above the rank of White. Even she who was no match in power for any of the SaDiablo family, and weak and drained of strength from childbirth, could snuff that tiny light with the barest strain.

As she moved to open her eyes and feed her child something caught her mind razor sharp barbs catching and ensnaring it with brutal efficiency. The Weaving was exquisite, a pretty trap to snare the unwary, it didn't pain her and yet she could sense that if she tried to free herself she would regret it. The weaving carried with it the promise for pain and she knew in an instant who the Weaver must be.

Beware the golden spider who Weaves a Tangled Web.

The words came back to her as clear now as onthe day she'd heard them spoken, words she'd been warned with by the Black Widow who had taught her sister her Craft, a warning Lyra had made a point of passing on to every apprentice she had trained since then. Her memories flooded her mind with the haunting song of mystery and danger that told of death and magic and prophecies.

Arachna was an island in Kaeleer, an island wreathed in invisible barbed cobwebs and populated by Blood spiders, Kindred, spiders that did not welcome Outsiders and who did not leave their Island home.

*You will not destroy this one Music Lover, you cannot destroy this one, but neither can you rear him*

Shira could see with her physical body that a gleaming golden spider about the size of a fist, not including her long delicate legs, had descended from the ceiling and was now standing on top of the newborn who was still whimpering and fussing.

*He is my son, it is my right to do with him as I choose, and there is no law that says I must inform the father or his family that I bore him a child,* Shira replied, carefully easing her psychic thread around the trap that held her mind.

*He was spun from our Dreams, he must live, if you wish to do the same you will not stop me,*

*What use have you for a human child?*

*He will be a Dreamer, we must hide him from the Tainted Priestess so he may grow to Dream,*

*You will make sure he is safe?*

*Yes, the child will be safe,*

The young green-jewelled Weaver of Dreams carefully activated the latent spell woven into her mind-trap implanting the memory of the child being born unbreathing just as she had done to the midwife, and the witch's body went lax as she fell into forced and fitful sleep. The young green eyed musician wouldn't remember the Arachnan Queen or her living child. Her mind would glaze and fog with grief and loss and by the time she recovered from the sorrow the memories would be faded and shut away.

The Weaver of Dreams left the room air-walking and towing the child behind her as she made for the Gate. A sight, psychic, and aural shield snapped up around her and the infant. She was very protective of this child who had been made with good Dreams, Dreams she had helped to Weave into the flesh.

At the Gate, barring her way, stood one known to all the Weavers of Dreams, Draca.

*Jussst what do you think you are doing?* asked the woman with the reptillian cast to her features and the silibant hiss in her voice raising one eyebrow at the golden spider, her perceptions apparently unaffected by the green-strength shields.

*He is mine,* the young Queen told the Dragon Mother settling herself possessively over the squirming babe.

*You cannot keep him sssafe little Queen,* said Draca sadly.

*He is a Dream, and he will be a Dreamer, he must live,* the Queen said agitatedly.

*He isss not Dreamsss-Made-Flesh,* Draca pointed out.

*No, only Witch can be Dreams-Made-Flesh, the flesh was there, we tied the flesh that came to the Dreams that were, many Dreams, good Dreams from loyal Dreamers,*

*Hekatah knowsss of him, she fearsss him and the potential power he holdssss. She will not sssstop until she isss sssure he isss dead or under her control,*

*We will hide him from the Tainted One,* insisted the spider Queen stubbornly.

*She will find him, do not underessstimate her powersss or her ressourcesss you musssssst ssssend him to a place she cannot follow,*

With that Draca lit the long black tapers standing in the candelabra that stood by the Gate in the wrong order to go any of the Realms. The Weaver of Dreams looked on in confusion.

*The fourth mussst be lit by Craft, by a Black Widow,* Draca explained.

The final candle burst into flame, and to the spider's surprise a Gate opened.

*Where does it lead?* she asked curiously.

*To a Realm that did not have a connection to the Darknesssssss until one of the Blood, a Red-Jewelled Warlord Prince called Zeussss, forced it to open and accept hissssss village, in the face of certain death he sssssaved them all, but the Way wasssssss never mean to be open and sssssssso the Black Widow Hera that wassss hissss wife sssssssealed it with a Tangled Web sssssso it could not be opened again from thisssss ssssssssside unlessss by a Black Widow who knew the ssssssecret of her husssband'sss work,*

Draca picked up the baby ignoring the spider Queen's agitated scuttling and gently slid him across the polished stone through the Gate.

*Will he be safe?* asked the Weaver of Dreams

*Ssssafer, I think then if put at the mercy of hissss grandmother,* Draca replied.

*Will he come back? He must come back! The Dream, Witch! She needs him, he will be a Dreamer!* the young spider realized suddenly the mistake she had made.

*Perhapssss he will find the way,* Draca said unconcernedly walking back into the Keep.

The one who was once the Queen of Dragons and the one who had gifted the strength of her kind to the ones who were now called the Blood glided unnoticed into the Keep's impressive library, easily avoiding the Librarian, Geoffrey, carefully she removed the appropriate record from the appropriate shelf and she carefully penned a name into the book, blowing on the ink gently to allow it to dry before shutting it and replacing it.

*May the Darknesss embrace you, Graessson Moray SssssaDiablo,*

AN: And there you have it. If you're confused as to what's going on in the above chapter, send me a review or PM or you can check out Dreams Made Flesh (if you haven't done so already I highly recommend it!) I'm referencing page 108-110 in The Warlord Prince of Ebon Rih.

This is meant to be the first part of a sort of two part prologue, so the chapters should definitely get longer as the story progresses.

For those of you waiting for updates on my other stories...I'm sorry, I cannot 'elp it eet eez zee creme filling! But, I'm working on the next chapters of both Harry Prewett and The Reading, chapter 7 of the Courting Games is up, and I am in the final round of editing for the next chapter of Legacy.

Please review and let me know what you think!