chapter five ; "visions of the past."

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BLUE  M O O N

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ; "ᴠɪꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ."

297 AC

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297 AC. THE KING'S ROAD

SMOKE AND SALT MASKED THE EARTHLY AIR, WAVES BATTLED AGAINST PALE CLIFF FACES AND THE WIND ROARED WITH FURY. The fortress of white stood tall, its solid frame built deep within the gargantuan mountain it clung onto - from the main keep, a long, yet stable brick bridge linked the ancient keep to the rest of the of the building. Battlements that lined the top of the outer bailey, hadn't been touched by enemies in thousands of years - were being kissed roughly by the vapour of the sea. This weather was an inferno - a reckoning from the god's,  a sign. 

Howling the wind uprooted tall, sturdy trees - tossing the wood to the side effortlessly; causing an issue to the small village that had settled below the fortress of white. By the impregnable keep, stood a tall turret- taller than the rest and bigger; thunder cackled deafeningly, but even over the tremendous noise a woman's cry rung out from it. The scream was terrifying; pain filled, full of emotion and distress; this woman was hurting severely. Severe was not even the word to describe the comfort the woman was in, it was absolute agony.

"My Lady, one more push and the babe will be here," a wetnurse spoke gently and calmly, above all the noise; her face was solemn, but at the same time it was filled with empathy for the woman before her. 

A head rested quickly back on the pillow, her brunette curly lochs greasy with hot sweat; the sweat from which originated from her forehead. "My husband!" the woman cried, "Fetch me my husband, I won't do this without him!" she demanded shrilly to the wetnurse.

The maester that was also in the chamber dawdled forwards, a grave look on his face, "My lady, that is not wise; husbands never watch the birth."

"Fuck tradition!" the woman shreiked, "Get me Valtheos or I'll have your head!" and with that simple threat, the Maester scurried away to fetch the woman's husband. 

Mere moments after leaving the chamber, the maester returned with a man - he was young, but his platinum coloured hair had never changed through time; Valtheos Daemadar looked like a King. He rushed swiftly to his wife's bedside, adoration in his eyes - the Lord realised he was the luckiest man in the world, as he skimmed over his beautiful wife. 

Softly, Valtheos spoke, "Shh, Alia, my love," he began, "One more push and our baby will be here," the respected man outstretched a hand to his lover, which Alia took immediently - his eyes widening and letting out a grunt when she began to squeeze.

A final sharp wail rung out around the chamber, silence finally, then the cry of a baby rung out around the room. Valtheos pacily pulled up a chair, sitting down and staring lovingly at his wife, whilst the master followed through with medicinal treatment for Alia - such as cutting the cord that their baby was attached to. Then the infant was passed to the wetnurse, who began to clean the its bloody state - all the time it cried for its mother. 

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