౨ৎ ˖° 𝐃𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎𝐍 was unnaturally charming but not overwhelmingly so. Yet however charming the girl may be she was twice as odd. Whatever the nature of her strangeness, it seemed to haunt her with a lingering presence.
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ANUGISHED SCREAMS tore through the castle's atmosphere rhythmically, bouncing against its thick, dank walls. The perpetrator, her face nothing short of misery, laid on a bed of thick satins with her legs propped up in a laboring position. Midwives galore surround her, with pure intentions of course, but it takes everything in the young consort not to lash out and curse them away. Not out of respect for them, of course, but out of respect for her composure. However, that respect was dwindling like a flicker in the dew.
"My Grace," the eldest one, and therefore the one deemed the authority of the midwives, spoke up between the Queen's horridly pained noises, "I know how it must be, but you need-"
"Shut up, you withering cunt!" The young mother rushes out in a strain, followed by a string of profanities.
After a minute or so she had mustered up enough strength to push again, screaming as she did so. And again. And again.
She let out a last bloodcurdling scream before collapsing on the bed, momentarily losing consciousness. After a few seconds of absolute silence, a babe's cry could be heard, small in comparison to the Mother's. The midwives rejoiced with laughs of awe, "Thank the gods!" one said, "A son!" another exclaimed before they handed the baby to the father, King Robert Baratheon.
The man who previously offered no effort nor emotion to his birthing bride now sheds a singular tear, which falls on the cheek of the newlyborn like a kiss. How'd he dreamed of this moment before, though not with the woman below him, something he resented dearly. Nevertheless, In his arms laid his heir, the future, and his true love.
"Robert...let me see my son..." Cersei begs weakly, to which Robert turns the baby around to show his face. Stretching her frail arms out and fingertips wiggling towards the newborn babe, when suddenly her arms retract rather quickly and let out a wail akin to a monster of the sea. The Maester's, who had remained silent and unamused this entire birth, face contorts in confusion before inspecting the Mother's condition. He looked worried as he approached the King with his head down meekly and hands wrung tightly.
"His grace, it'd be best if you and your son went." Robert almost argues, but as he looks back at Cersei, grimacing at her cries, and then at the son in his hands he realizes the circumstance, "Do not let your son bear witness to this."
Robert leaves with a curt nod as Cersei calls out to him, "Robert! No! Give me my son! Robert!" she goes on in wounded pleads as her body contorts uncontrollably, but Robert ignores her begging entirely, clutching his son to his chest as he leaves the chambers.
"My queen, you have to push." The eldest midwife returns to Cersei's side, but the woman fervently shakes her head, "No, No. I gave birth already." she grabs the woman's hand in a pleading manner much like a child, "Please. Let me see my son."
