A Crown of Winter Roses

Chapter 30

I feel so bad for last chapter, and I did so want it to not end that way but I flipped a coin and he lost each time. It's just the way it goes. However, I will post a chapter of what would happen if Oberyn had survived and they remained there that night. It will most likely be a single chapter, I'm not sure if I'd continue it as I do have plans for future stories that involve him; so please, keep tuned in.  

I think this song was beautifully tied to how Rosie is feeling currently, so please listen. However, you can also check out the track Truth from season 7 because I think that also ties in nicely with Rosaerys. 

Chapter 30

Rosie remained rooted to the floor as commotion continued all around her; crowds dispersing and royals disappearing as she clutched onto her baby boy; the Maester doing what he could with the afterbirth. He was a delicate and small thing, fitting neatly into the crook of her arm. Blood still clung to his face as she used a strip of her skirt to slowly wipe it away, clearing the smooth of his cheeks. Maester Coleman slowly helped the frail woman inside, not allowing her to turn back to see Oberyn. Dornish guards and unsullied trailed behind her like a wall as she tripped her way across.

She hobbled, her body battered from childbirth as they stepped through, making the short walk to her room. The handmaidens were quick to follow behind her, some hovering back to clear the blood from the floor. Rosie didn't know how she felt, just craved the burning desire of Oberyn's touch on her body to soothe the hurt.

Why was it her that this happened to? Why did her baby die the same time her husband did? Why did she lose it all? Were the Gods - whichever ones they were - that cruel to rip everything she loved from her grasp? She could only think that true as she stepped into her room, shrugging free of the orange gown that graced her body, the bottom now drenched in blood that the snake that had clung to the mesh was nothing more.

The night passed in a blur as the maids began to run the woman a bath, the water snaking with its scented steam. Rosie rested her child in the crook of her arm for a moment, peeling away at the dressing gown they had placed over her shoulders before moving them to the small bath and seated in. The babe resting against her legs.

He had Oberyn's olive skin, deep in colour with thick dark hair curling lightly, a single silver strand running through; for the brief moment he was alive, he had her Indigo eyes; an odd combination by any sorts but he was beautiful. He was an almost perfect splitting image of Oberyn. She kept him wrapped in the Martell blanket they brought for him in case they never returned home in time. She guessed, in some sick twist of fate, that it was good luck yet also a bad omen that it was here. She hadn't realised the worry and stress would damage her baby, especially during birth; maybe his death was her own fault - her own stupid mistake; and perhaps Oberyn's death was the same, if she had just tried harder. Maester Coleman couldn't tell her why he died, just that he was weak and his lungs must not have been able to take in the air. Infant mortality a common thing in the city.

She gripped the cloth to the side, her arms jarring as she moved, the world around her empty - devoid of love and hope and joy. Dunking the dry fabric beneath the surface, she let it absorb the water before wiping at the small boy's face, the blood tangling with the creaminess of the rag. A sob fluttered past Rose's lips as she wiped softly at Nym who looked as though he was asleep in her lap; like he should have been with Oberyn hovering at the side, caring for his wife and new son.