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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Anastasia's body convulsed with waves of searing pain, each contraction feeling like a relentless onslaught tearing her apart from within. Sweat poured down her brow, mingling with tears of anguish as she writhed on the bed, her hands clenching the sheets in a vice-like grip.
In the chamber, voices swirled around her in a chaotic symphony of concern and confusion. Mellos muttered urgent instructions to Daemon Targaryen, whose panicked face loomed over him, his hands trembling as he tried to offer comfort in what was happening.
Anastasia's mother hovered nearby, her face etched with worry, her attempts to soothe her daughter's agony falling on deaf ears as Anastasia struggled to make sense of the chaos consuming her body.
With each agonizing moment, the world narrowed to a haze of pain and uncertainty, the edges of her vision blurring as she fought to remain conscious.
Time seemed to stretch and warp, the seconds ticking by like an eternity as Anastasia battled against the overwhelming tide of pain, her senses reeling, her mind consumed by an instinct to endure, to survive, no matter the cost.
Mellos observed Anastasia's torment with furrowed brows. With a sense of urgency and confusion, he leaned closer to Anastasia, his voice a low rumble.
"Anastasia," he began, "what do you feel? Tell me."
Anastasia's response was a ragged gasp, her breath hitching in her chest as she struggled to find words amidst the agony consuming her. "It... hurts," she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper.
Mellos frowned. "But what else? What's happening to your body?"
Anastasia's mind whirled with confusion, her thoughts fragmented by the relentless assault of pain. "I don't... I don't know," she confessed, her words a desperate plea.
As Anastasia's response hung in the air, Mellos' expression shifted, his features contorted in a rare display of contemplation. In that brief instant, amid the chaos and doubt, a glimmer of realization dawned in his eyes—a realization both rare and impossible, yet undeniable in its truth.
Mellos stood frozen for a moment, his usually steady hands trembling slightly as he processed Anastasia's cryptic words and the gravity of the situation unfolding before him. Daemon Targaryen, his brow furrowed with concern, and Anastasia's mother, her eyes wide with fear, demanded answers, their voices rising in a chorus of urgency.
"Mellos, for the gods' sake, do something!" Daemon's voice cracked with desperation, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Anastasia's mother echoed his plea, her voice thick with emotion. "Please, you must help her!"
With a sudden jolt, Mellos snapped out of his daze, his instincts kicking into action as he moved with a sense of purpose. "Anastasia," he commanded, "keep pushing."
Daemon's confusion was palpable as he exchanged a bewildered glance with Anastasia, but with Mellos's directive ringing in her ears, Anastasia summoned every ounce of strength she had left, she pushed.
With every excruciating push, Anastasia sensed her very being being ripped apart, her screams echoing in the chamber as she surrendered to the relentless torment consuming her. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, her veins pulsing with a fiery agony that threatened to consume her from within.
But amidst the unbearable pain, there was something else—a deep, gnawing fear that clawed at the edges of her consciousness. With each effort, she felt the lifeblood draining from her, a crimson tide that flowed unchecked, mingling with the sweat and tears that coated her skin.
Her vision blurred with each agonizing contraction, the edges of her consciousness fraying as she teetered on the brink of oblivion. Despite this, she persisted in pushing, propelled by an instinctual urge to deliver her child, regardless of the toll it exacted.
As she fought against the inexorable tide of pain and blood loss, Anastasia's world narrowed to a singular, all-consuming focus: the desperate need to push, to endure, to survive. And though every fiber of her being screamed in protest, she refused to yield.
At last, Anastasia pushed with all her remaining strength, her body trembling with exertion as she felt the last remnants of resistance give way. In a moment suspended in time, a very delicate, tiny, barely heard whimper broke through the silence.
Mellos, Daemon, and Anastasia's mother stood frozen in shock, their faces pale with disbelief as they confronted the miraculous reality unfolding before them. For there, lay a third child—a tiny, vulnerable soul, born against all odds and in defiance of the very laws of nature.
Tears pricked at Anastasia's eyes as she lay spent and exhausted, her body wracked with pain yet her heart filled with a mixture of awe, relief, and overwhelming love. Though the world spun around her in a dizzying blur and the agony still gripped her like a vice, in that instant, nothing else mattered except the miracle they had just witnessed.
Yet, as the truth sank in, a sense of dread washed over her like a tidal wave, threatening to consume her in its wake.
"Why... why isn't the babe crying?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely a whisper amidst the suffocating silence. But before she could receive an answer, the pain consumed her, and with a final, desperate gasp, she slipped to unconsciousness.
AUTHORS NOTE:
soooo, yeah. is short but i wanted to upload. i know, crazy decision but i was in a silly mood. i thought, in a universe with dragons...anything is kinda possible i guess. it has meaning tho!! (kinda) stick around (if u want). see y'all in a month or two! (thank u for all the love and the comments <3)
*also, trying really hard to better my english so, sorry for any errors. i probably will edit them later on*
