Mother don't eat me / mother i'm trying so hard to be better
⠀ ⸺ ⠀House of the Dragon / Fire and blood
⠀ ⸺ ⠀male!oc x multiple
⠀ ⸺ ⠀cover made by @roguesmoon <3
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It was true - the people didn't want him dead, mayhaps the Gods. His boots clicked against the floor of the dimly lit hallway, quiet grunts of his wife echoing through the doors. He was unaware, truly. Or he just liked to blind himself, blame the Gods for creating him, blame his father for not raising him, blame his mother for doing a poor work at it. He never blamed himself for any messed he created. He didn't blame the pain he caused Genna on himself either. Orwylle advised the young prince to not take his pregnant wife to the hearing, to allow her to rest. But when has the blood of the dragon ever listen to the words of a common man?
The doors swung open, making Baelor stop in tracks. With his nail stuck between his teeth, biting in the soft flesh around, he asked, "is she alright? The babe?"
"The lady will be fine," Maester Orwylle nodded, a white tissue brushing away old blood, "the babe as well. Kicking like a goat, still."
Baelor nodded, lower lip caught between his lips before releasing them and moving pass the Maester, mumbling a quick thank you before disappearing behind the doors, shutting them closed. Genna laid on the bed, prompted by pillows - two green ones from Alicent, a red one from her father, two white ones from Baelor's old chambers, before she even met him. Warm teas sat idly on the small table by the bed, herbs alike by their sides. One of her feet poked from underneath the covers; Orwylle suggested her to be surrounded by as many warm blankets as she could but Genna didn't like being too hot. She, after all, didn't share the dragon blood as her husband did.
Baelor almost felt sad at the state of his wife. He pushed off his boots and moved to the side of the bed. When he noticed the dry lips of Genna, he took the cup of tea in his hands. He caught himself foolishly giving it to his wife already before he looked inside of the liquid, searching if there is anything wrong with it. Because if he does it to his own father, who says other people would not do the same to his wife?
He helped Genna sit up straight, leaning back, offering the cup to her. Gratefully, his wife pressed her dry lips in a smile and thanked him. He slithered on the bed like a snake and gently pressed his head close to her belly. His fingers traced dragon like shapes on top of it as if his child would see them, whispering, "hello there."
Genna placed the cup on the table when she had enough, allowing her husband to whisper to their child, "it might be time to soon meet you, my little dragon. Rhaella still believes you are to be a girl and that I shall name you Rhaenys. Alyssa still thinks you are to be a boy and that I shall name you Aegon. Either way I think I would be glad."
