𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝘥𝘢𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

prologue.

IT WAS a dark and stormy night, the wind howling and the sky roaring.

King's Landing was in chaos.

The soil beneath the feet rumbled like nothing ever recorded in history. The castle's walls shook and shook, the furniture bouncing around like a demon was haunting its halls.

It was incredibly rare for such weather to hit Westeros, yet it did, like a death bringer was having its dance of death.

Queen Cersei's cries blended in with the howls of the night, the windows bursting open, allowing the heavy cold winds entry to the chambers of the impregnated.

The lit candles danced all over the place, while most blew out. The heavy rain poured in through all the gaps, painting the wooden floors in its clear liquid.

"Shut the windows!" King Robert commanded his knights. But as they approached the edges of the chambers, the wind only tipped the men back over on their backs — even with all their armour on.

Not even a King could command the storm.

No one had that power.

The power of a God.

Or even a Goddess.

Cersei Lannister's cries only grew louder by every passing moment as the bedsheets beneath her became bloody. The Queen was surrounded by Septas who begged for the Lioness to fight through the pain and to deliver her child.

They eventually had to use force to hold the Queen down, her thrashing believed to have been dangerous for the child inside her belly, as well as for herself as she was excessively bleeding.

That bleeding couldn't be stopped until the child was out.

"Fight through the pain, Cersei! This is our child!" Robert begged his wife, the palm of his hand flat against the belly bump of Cersei Lannister.

Finally finding an ounce of courage, Cersei took a deep breath in and squeezed the hands of the Septas tightly, just before she began pushing with all her might once more.

The Lioness was in pain — great pain — unimaginable pain, and she was tired, so, so tired.

This was the pain that every wife was forced to endure for the future of their husbands' names and houses. They were the bringers of life, yet they were despised and treated like mere cattle by men.

If it weren't for women, men would not exist in this world, or any.

"Push, my Queen, push!"

"This child will be the next emperor of Westeros! Of the Seven Kingdoms!"

The Septas encouraged the Queen.

This child was the future of the Seven Kingdoms.

With one final cry, Cersei's pain was finally over.

That was when the brand new cry of a baby filled the room. Cersei immediately shut her eyes as she panted with sweat trickling down her face, and as red as a tomato.

"Quick! Grab the sheets!"

The Septas took the baby in their arms and wrapped it in a brown cloth, while the others aided to the Queen's bleeding wound.

"It's a boy! It's a boy, your Grace!"

The news brought a glint of hope in Robert Baratheon's eyes. The Septa handed the King his newborn son, to which he immediately took and held gently in his big arms.

He smiled at the boy as his eyes reddened.

He had the same brown eyes as the Stag himself.

"My son." He muttered underneath his breath, cooing the beautiful baby boy.

"Gods—!"

Cersei's cries echoed the room a second time, much louder than earlier.

"There's another!"

Her blood began pouring out heavier.

"There's another child!"

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