Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 52

Chapter 52: The Stranger
...
Richard POV

Inside the dimly lit room, I stood in the corner, invisible yet present, watching the familiar scene unfold once again—a scene that had haunted me every moon for the past year.

Alicent lay in bed, cradling a golden hair babe to her chest, her expression soft yet weary as she nursed our child.

She was the future Alicent, a vision of delicate beauty. Her dark hair fell in loose waves around her face. High cheekbones framed her gentle features, and her full, rosy lips held a quiet warmth. Her almond-shaped eyes shimmered with life, framed by thick lashes, as she gazed down at the infant in her arms.

"Where is Richard?" she asked the midwives, her voice carrying a blend of strength and vulnerability. Her sapphire eyes lingered on the golden hair babe as she stroked his tiny hand.

I opened my mouth to answer her, to shout, I'm right here!, but the words withered on my tongue.

She couldn't hear me. She couldn't see me. Because this wasn't real—it was a dream.

A cruel, recurring nightmare that bound me to watch this moment over and over, powerless to change anything.

One of the midwives stepped forward and murmured, "Out hunting my lady."

Hunting. The word burned in my ears. My future self had left—left her during the birth of our child.

Rage boiled in my chest, my fists clenching as I trembled with fury. How could I, the man who swore to protect her, abandon her at such a moment?

Alicent's gaze dropped, her joy dimmed by a shadow of sadness. She kissed our child's forehead, her eyes glimmering with emotions I couldn't soothe.

Seeing her like this shattered me every time. Her lips moved again, forming words I couldn't hear, words the dream kept from me, and only revealed after a new dream.

And then, she appeared.

The faceless woman stepped from the shadows, her presence unnatural and chilling.

Unlike the other midwives, her face was a void—a blank canvas that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

She moved silently, holding a small cup of water.

"No, no, no—don't drink it!" I shouted, rushing forward, desperation tightening my throat. "Alice, don't drink it! Please!"

But my cries were useless. I lunged to knock the cup from her hands, but my fingers passed through it as if I were a ghost. The faceless woman offered the cup to Alicent, who accepted it with trusting hands.

"Alice, stop! Don't drink it!" My voice cracked as I reached for her. She raised the cup to her lips, took a small sip, and smiled faintly before leaning back into her pillows.

The world began to fracture. The dream quaked and flickered, shuddering like a reel of memory breaking apart. The midwives vanished, leaving only chaos behind.

Blood seeped into the sheets beneath her, spreading in a dark tide. Alicent's head lolled to one side, her body lifeless. The infant in her arms wailed, his cries sharp and piercing, but no one came to his aid.

I dropped to my knees, staring at her still form, at the crimson-stained bedclothes that marked her end.

The faceless woman was gone, as she always was, leaving me alone with the aftermath.

Every time, this moment came. Every time, I watched her die.

My chest heaved with sobs, raw and broken. I slammed my fists into the ground, my cries echoing in the emptiness around me.