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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Tragedy is a vail that is wrapped around House Targaryen. It sunk its teeth in their skin and flesh like a wounded dog trying to break bones. Alicent believes it's a curse. Genna believes she hasn't prayed enough. Helaena foresaw it in a dream, unable to help it.
Genna wept in the chambers. The pain in her belly increased, the ache unbearable. The ladies tried to soothe her, hands on her forearms when they helped her walk around. She screamed and cried, "I want my – I want my mother."
But no one answered her pleads. She begged the Seven to allow her to live through it. She prayed for Jaehaerys, she prayed for Helaena and her children. The green fabric was stripped from her and a white dress was pushed over her shoulder. The servants tried helping her down the hallway of the Keep to get her to the birthing chambers as she cried. The Maesters said it's better if she doesn't see the blood of Jaehaerys nor his headless body.
It was then that Baelor emerged from where he was. He scratched his aching arm when he ran across the hallways of the Keep, yelling through the panic for his daughters. The Kingsguard was searching for who did it. Panic settled in Baelor when he reached Rolan, "where are they? What happened?"
Rolan shook his head, nervous fingers on his sword, ashamed of what he hasn't done, "someone came through the passages."
"Where are they?" he doesn't mean just his daughters then.
Rolan doesn't answer right away, "the girls are with the Dowager Queen and – and my lady is in the birthing chambers."
His heart dropped to his stomach, fingers clasping the open doublet, "no. Wh – what, why? It's too soon."
Before Rolan had the chance to speak, Baelor pushed pass the crowd and to the open hallways. He reached the chambers where his wife's screams and pleads were heard but before he could open the doors, Grand Maester Orwylle stopped him, "my prince, it is not – I cannot allow you inside."
"What's happening?" he asked with quick and rigid breaths, hands on his hips, tears in his eyes.
Orwylle clasped his hands together, "my lady is . . . the babe is too early, the cycle is not finished yet."
Confusion, pain and grief clouded his mind. He couldn't think straight, especially not through her screams, "what – what does . . . Is the babe coming?"
"He is," he nods his head, letting the prince know the babe is almost for certain a boy by their calculations, "but I fear my lady is not strong enough to bare the child."
