The howling wind bears down strong, window panes screaming under the weight of the sky's anger. It was a loud night—an unforgiving night, for the grim Dragonstone castle. Dark malice clouds obscure the once bright glow of the full moon, jagged flashes of light seeping through the heavy fog and illuminate the deep churning sea.
A scream filled with so much agony and over spilling with endless emotion bounced off the walls of the old bricks, fuelling and clashing with the storm surrounding. The thunderous boom of natures elements competing with the crys of a pained working woman.
"You are doing so well my love, she's nearly here." A hallow voice whispered in the woman's ear, the endearing encouragement louder then anything in the room. Calloused finger tips grazing over her redden forehead, combing her her sweat ridden hair from her eyes. "Just one more push Mysaria. The Midwives say that they can see her head"
Mysaria shook her head in despair, feeling the tightness of her throat aching to disclose her many doubts. "I-I can't. The babes going to kill me Daemon." Her ethnic accent though strong, cracked at the seems of childbirth.
The woman stared up at The Targaryen Prince with blurred eyes—eyes that have always been associated with the words strong and sharp diluting into something she has dared not be for many decades. Weak. The will to fight seeped out of her with every second pass, and as the tears threaten to flow, she can tell he knew too.
His fingers halted their gentle movements to brush down and cup her wetted cheek, a sweet distraction from the agonising pain pulsating from her groin through to the entirety of her body. A soundless sob escaping from her pink lips as her lover connect his forehead to hers, eyes closing as she nuzzled into the feel.
"What did i promise you Mysaria?" Daemon Targaryen whispered, every word spoken huffing a lullaby into her tanned skin.
A booming crash of thunder shook the window, the smallest of flickers from the lit candles spread sparsely across the chamber. "I don't -I-I—"
"Protection." The Prince quietened her weak stammers. "I promised you protection." His thumb kissed under her eye, brushing the fall of a single tear from sight. "You will not die here tonight my Love, I swear it on all the Seven Kingdoms. I swear it on my life"
His soft lips caressed her temple, his spare hand held tight with her own, tightening at her slight falter. "Let me see my first born Mysaria. Let me see my daughter"
A moment of pause engulfed her figure, the room quiet as her dread settles in deep to her core. Mysaria dipped her head, brown eyes hardening as she accepts her fate. She will be birthing a babe tonight—whether she lives to see it will be left to the gods, to the man besides her. "One more push"
"One more push" he repeated softly.
Giving birth was never going to be an easy task, she knew that much from simply from her line of work— but nothing in this world could have prepared her for the excruciating pulse of pregnante silence as she pushed for the final time. Mysaria knew she was screaming, could feel the tension in her throat threatening to snap and ruin her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lids dancing with colours of light that reminded her of the cursed tumultuous weather, like the flash of angered gods and clash of the once placid sea against the rugged rocks. She could feel the stretch of her groin as the head of her child beings to crown.
Then she felt nothing.
A screeching cry was all she heard as her senses found themselves, her worn body sunken into the bed as sleep threatens to knock on her door.
"A girl Your Grace." The handmaiden announced, hurried hands working a towel over the bloodied child's head, before passing the crying babe to the silent Prince.
A child with hair dark as soot, strands of white overbearing the black and continuing down her face like a healed scar, her child's right eyebrow and lashes visibly lighter then her left. A bastard babe with many anemones, gods help her now.
She watched with tired eyes as he approached her and put the babe to her breast, the child eagerly suckling as her mouth hit her teat.
He brushed back her hair with a light touch. "I told you she was going to be a girl" he leant down as his lips met her own—something they do not do very often, especially in the presence of others. "You did well Mysaria, I thank you for my sweet girl"
authors note
I'm very excited to post this!
quite confusing, I couldn't keep up with the timeline between the books and the show so I created my own. this particular setting is around episode three in the show, a couple months after the sea snake battle at the end of the year 115, the same year helaena targaryen was born. aemond targaryen is born in the year 116, so she will a couple months older.
rhaenyra and daemon will be together eventually, mysaria is simply his mistress that he said he would protect. although he calls her my love, it just a term of endearment for the mother of his first born child, he doesn't love her and doesn't love him.
synopsis and first chapter will be published sometime tomorrow, they're just in the editing phase :)
आप पढ़ रहे हैं
no time to die - aemond targaryen
फैनफिक्शनyoung aemond one-eye can't help but be drawn to the bastard child of mysaria and daemon targaryen, sofina. no time to die. was I stupid to love you? was I reckless to help ?- start date - nineteenth of october finish date - to be announced
