The Rogue Prince has lost his wife in a terrible accident which leaves him the option to remarry.
Lady Anastasia Tully is a kind girl from the Riverlands thrown into the mess of the dragon family - a mess she is trying so hard to avoid yet it seems...
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The grandeur of Dragonstone Castle stood as a testament to the Targaryen legacy, its towering spires and ancient stone walls overlooking the tumultuous Narrow Sea. But within the castle's chambers, away from the prying eyes of courtiers and servants, Anastasia found herself in a world of her own.
Two moons had passed since her union with Daemon Targaryen, and the novelty of her marriage had yet to wear thin. In the beginning, their love had burned like wildfire, and his charismatic presence had left her breathless. But lately, she had noticed a subtle shift in her emotions, something she couldn't quite comprehend.
As Anastasia gazed out of the arched windows, her gaze fixated on the distant horizon where the sea met the sky. The waves crashed against the cliffs below. She felt a sense of detachment from the world, as though her thoughts were adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
Her hand rested on her abdomen, an unconscious gesture she had developed in recent days. She had chalked it up to stress. Yet, deep within her, something stirred, something that eluded her understanding.
Anastasia couldn't ignore the strange sensations that had become a daily occurrence. The queasiness that plagued her mornings, the unexplained fatigue that gripped her in the afternoons, and the peculiar cravings that had her sending servants on errands for exotic foods she had never desired before.
In her solitude, she had started to wonder if she was ill. It was only a matter of time before she decided to seek answers. With determination in her heart and uncertainty in her mind, she made her way through the corridors of Dragonstone to find the midwife, hoping that she could provide an explanation for the mysterious changes in her body.
With each step, the corridors seemed to close in on Anastasia, and the weight of her uncertainty pressed upon her shoulders. Her destination was a modest chamber within Dragonstone.
As she entered the midwife's quarters, the air was thick with the scent of dried herbs and tinctures and a fire crackled in the hearth. The midwife looked up from her work, sensing the unease in Anastasia's presence.
"Good day, my lady," the midwife greeted, her tone gentle and reassuring. "What brings you here today?"
Anastasia hesitated, her words caught in her throat. She hadn't shared her concerns with anyone, not even Daemon, fearing that her predicament might be seen as a weakness. But the nagging doubts and the growing whispers from within could no longer be ignored.
"I've been feeling...strange lately," Anastasia finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought it was just stress or perhaps some ailment, but it's been going on for weeks."
The midwife nodded knowingly, motioning for Anastasia to take a seat by the hearth. She approached and placed a comforting hand on Anastasia's shoulder. "You are not alone in feeling this way, my lady. Tell me, what are the specific symptoms you've been experiencing?"
