The Dragon's Legacy

Chapter Ninty-Two

Daemion paced furiously outside the birthing chamber, his boots scuffing against the stone floor. The flickering light of torches cast wild shadows on the walls, reflecting the turmoil inside him. His heart raced, the rhythm uneven, thudding painfully against his ribs. The air around him felt suffocating, every breath laced with dread.

He had only felt so helpless and so afraid the day Vallar and Visenya were born.

Inside the chamber, Rhaena screamed, and Daemion's fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He had tried everything, everything to stop this from happening. He had pleaded, argued, demanded, even tried to force her hand with the moon tea, but Rhaena—stubborn, headstrong Rhaena—had refused him. The memory of her defiance still burned in his mind. Her fierce pale-lilac eyes had met his deep violet eyes, filled with that blend of steel and fire that had always drawn him to her, even when he was a boy of five, and she was already a woman.

And since that day they had not slept in the same bed.

He could not lay in bed with her knowing she was bringing herself to her demise and he would have to lay in bed helpless and watch.

Fear.

The word tasted bitter in his mouth now. He had not feared battle, nor blood, nor any enemy that stood before him... He had not even foolishly not feared Jumong... But this—this was different. The fear gnawed at him like a beast, claws deep in his chest, tearing him apart from the inside.

His mother, Ceryse, died having him, leaving her shadow over him and his father. The bitter tears and bitter never faded away not while all there was of his mother was her raven hair that now was greying on his head and her necklace which now her granddaughter, his daughter, Rhaella bore it... And now Rhaena's own mother had died in childbirth, leaving behind a trail of grief that felt like a shadow creeping closer with each breath. If Rhaena dies—

No. He couldn't finish the thought.

He loved her with a depth and ferocity that sometimes frightened even him. It had been that way since he was a boy— his heart had always belonged to her. Through the years, through all the wars, betrayals, and losses, years of being away from her... Rhaena had been the one constant. His love for her had only grown, deeper than the roots of the Iron Throne itself. To lose her now, after all they had survived...

He did not know what part of him would be lost if he had lost her.

But he knew one thing. If the thing killed her, no God, no man would stand between him and drowning that thing himself.

But can I truly do that? One voice wondered.

You will. Another answered.

Another scream pierced the air, sharp and ragged. Daemion stopped his pacing, his hands trembling as he gripped the hilt of his sword Dark Sister. It was his grandmother's, father's sword but even this symbol of power felt useless now. He couldn't fight this enemy. All he could do was beg the soul of his grandmother, father and mother to allow her to live...

Take me if you must... Not her...

Vallar and Visenya were nearby, though he had sent them away from the chamber. Vallar had grown so much these past years, so much like his grandfather Maegor, tall and broad, with the same intensity in his eyes. Visenya was his grandmother reborn... Daemion had wanted them near, but the last thing he wanted was for them to hear their mother's screams, to see the terror etched in his face.

What would they do if Rhaena was gone? The thought itself confused Daemion wherever if he wished to rage or sob. The twins deserved to have their mother with them.