—— " everything is going to be okay " ——
༺ ♔ ༻
——— IT WASN'T LONG UNTIL Rakharo and two other bloodriders ushered Khal Drogo's horse into the tent, but with much difficulty. The horse was neighing frantically, trying to resist going further.
As soon as the horse was dragged into the tent, Daeron, Daenerys, and Irri instantly moved away to make room for the horse. Daeron noticed how it continued to resist. It was odd.
Daenerys held her womb protectively as Rakharo approached her, Daeron and Irri. "Khaleesi, do not do this thing!" Rakharo begged as Mirri pulled out a bronze dagger. "Let me kill this witch."
"Kill her and you kill your Khal!" said Daenerys, but it was clear that Rakharo was scared. Maybe Daeron was too, but he knew his sister was desperate. For anything to heal Drogo.
"This is blood magic," said Rakharo. "It is forbidden!"
As the horse continued to neigh frantically, Mirri marked her forehead with ash. Daeron watched her sternly as Daenerys firmly said, "I am your Khaleesi. I tell you what is forbidden."
Mirri began chanting in a strange language, a language not even Daeron recognized as she slowly walked towards the horse. He stared at her oddly when he spotted a sinister grin on her face. This woman was much more mysterious and strange than he thought. Especially when she approached closer to the horse, it was suddenly calmed.
"Go," said Mirri, glancing over at the silver haired siblings and the Dothraki standing with them. "Now."
"Take her and leave," Daenerys told Rakharo.
Rakharo continued to look scared as he murmured, "Huh-uh."
"Take her!" Daenerys firmly said.
Rakharo very reluctantly led Irri out of the tent as Daeron and Daenerys kept their eyes on Mirri. Stayed in their stern state even when she glanced back at them.
"You must go also, lady," she said. "Once I begin to sing, no one must enter the tent. The dead will dance here tonight."
Daeron took a heavy breath before he glanced down at his sister, only to find her gazing down at Drogo. His eyes were closed, his breathing much more slower. Daeron watched as she softly stroke his forehead before shakily breathing, glancing back at Mirri.
"No one will enter," she sternly said.
Just as Daeron and Daenerys were about to leave, Mirri suddenly slit the throat of Drogo's horse, splattering blood all over herself, Drogo, Daenerys, and Daeron with the horse crying out. Daeron's eyes fell close for only a moment, feeling the wet red substance all over his face as the horse fell to the ground with a thud.
"Bring him back to me," said Daenerys as Daeron fluttered his eyes open, breathing heavily.
Daeron and Daenerys then turned and slowly walked out of the tent with the two bloodriders and the dying horse remained in the tent with Mirri, who began singing eerily in that strange language again. No matter how much Daeron raced his mind trying to figure out what language it was, he couldn't. It wasn't one that he knew.
As the Targaryens left the tent, they found the rest of the Khalasar waiting for them, some of them back away from them as they approached. Daeron assumed it was because of the blood over their skin, or the blood with their glimmering purple eyes. They probably looked terrifying.
Now wearing heavy steel armor, Ser Jorah approached them with a horrified look over him. "What have you done?" he asked as Daeron looked at him.
"I have to save him," Daenerys told him.
Ser Jorah placed a hand on her shoulder as he said, "We could have been 10 miles away from here by now, on the way to Asshai. You would have been safe—"
Daenerys suddenly groaned, stumbling forward right as a demonic, guttural screech was suddenly heard from Khal Drogo's tent. Daeron, Daenerys and Ser Jorah all glance back in shock as Qotho pushed his way through the khalasar, his arakh drawn.
When he reached the front where the Targaryens and Ser Jorah were, he stared at the tent horrified. "Jinak eth vos bai," he said as the three faced him. [This must not be.]
"Jinak eth bai," Daenerys told him. [This must be.]
"Maegi!" shouted Qotho. [Witch!]
Daeron glared at him, which looked much more terrifying with his violet eyes glimmering. As Daeron and Qotho had another tense staring contest, Rakharo reached forward, placing a gentle hand on Qotho's hand as he said, "Mra Qothoon vosaan—" But before he could finish his sentence, Qotho elbowed him in the face, causing him to stumble back.
Daeron turned irritated very quickly.
Qotho began his way towards the tent but Daenerys rushed towards him, attempting to stop him as she shouted, "Vos, yeri laz't!" [No, you can't!]
But when she approached, Qotho shoved her out of the way, and she fell to the ground. Right on her stomach.
"Dany!" Daeron almost screamed as he instantly rushed to her side with Irri.
"Khaleesi?!" asked Irri.
Daeron pulled his sister into his arms, but she began whimpering in pain, clutching onto her stomach. Daeron held his eyes on her, stung in sudden panic and fear, he could not pay attention to the fight festering behind them. Between Ser Jorah and Qotho.
"Vos alle, moriny ezen!" [No further, horselord!]
All Daeron heard after that were the sounds of two men fighting, but he didn't dare to look back at what was going on. Just on his pained sister, who clutched to her womb. And finally, after some minutes, Daeron heard a man grunt, then fall to the ground.
When Ser Jorah approached Daeron and his sister, Daeron knew that Qotho had been slain by the exiled knight. Daeron moved a piece of his sister's silver hair from her face as Ser Jorah hovered over her.
"What is wrong?" asked Daeron.
"Are you hurt?" asked Ser Jorah.
"The baby is coming..." Daenerys whimpered.
Instantly, Daeron stood up with his weakened sister in his arms as Ser Jorah told Rakharo to get the midwives. But the boy came over and told them, "They will not come. They say she is cursed."
"That's bloody dense!" argued Daeron.
"They'll come or I'll have their heads," Ser Jorah told Rakharo.
"The witch... she can bring baby. I hear her say so," said Rakharo.
From that Daeron and Ser Jorah both glanced over the Khal Drogo's tent, tense look in their eyes. However, even more panic filled Daeron up when he felt Daenerys go limp in his arms. He quickly glanced down at her, his purple eyes glimmering in fear.
"Dany?" he questioned, but with no answer, he quickly placed his eyes back on the tent. He nervously gulped before he headed straight for it, Ser Jorah right on his trail.
With nervous and wary hearts, the men entered the tent with the unconscious Khaleesi — but Daeron wished he never did.
As soon as he placed Daenerys down in the tent, he was ushered out by Mirri, as was Ser Jorah. Daeron could hear all kinds of sounds after that, horrible, terrifying sounds, but all he could think about was Daenerys and his nephew. He was terrified he would loose one of them.
And he did.
It seemed like several weeks had passed, but it had only been some hours. He had stayed right outside his sister's tent, for the longest time, until Doreah urged him to rest in his own tent. So he paced in his tent... alone... waiting for answers... for anything!
And when the midwives came into the tent, Daeron shot up from his spot, brows furrowed in desperation. He should have known by the saddened looks on their faces.
"The Khaleesi and Prince Rhaego..."
"Yes?" asked Daeron, attempting to sound put together and strong. But his voice shook.
That's when they told him.
His sister had lived, but his nephew had not. He was born not alive, but in a way that terrified the midwives. He was scaled, and blind, with leather wings. He was monstrous, and twisted, and—
"Enough!" shouted Daeron and the midwives faltered to silence. He didn't want to hear any further of how disgusted they were of his sister's dead newborn son. "Leave..."
His tone was so dark, it terrified the women, so they scattered out. And once he was alone, his eyes glimmered in despair as tears stung his eyes. His breathing was heavy, feeling a choke in the back of his throat. He stumbled back, and when he hit his bed, he almost lost it. He dropped down, and — cried.
Horribly. Distraught cries. He'd never cried that hard before. It surprised him, but he let it all out, letting all the tears run down his face.
He placed a hand over his mouth, which helped muffle the cries, but not enough. Because someone heard him. Not someone nearby, or someone on the camp. Someone across the narrow sea could hear his cries. His despair.
In Westeros, Rosaline Stark could feel his pain.
༺ ♔ ༻
——— ROSALINE WOKE UP STARTLED, with a gasp so strong, she almost cried. She heavily breathed, placing a hand to her chest, as her eyes glimmered confused. She had the most odd dream... and she felt like... she lost something. Like... a child. She couldn't describe or begin to decipher the feeling in her chest, or even her dream.
She took one last heavy breath before she pulled herself out of her bed, rubbing her eyes in tiredness. Just as she began to unbraid her hair, she lightly jumped when a raven flew up onto the sill of her window. She took another heavy breath, knowing she was just startled from her dream, and she needs to not be so jumpy.
However, everything subsided when she spotted an unbroken letter tied to the raven's talons. She eyed it curiously before she untied it, and took the letter into her hands. It had the Stark emblem melted into it. Robb.
She quickly dashed towards a nearby table and grabbed a small dagger. She cut through the seal before opening the letter that read:
Rosie,
As you may have heard, I have gone south to the riverlands with the bannermen. Mother is with me. She came with Ser Rodrik Cassel after Tyrion Lannister was released at The Eyrie with Aunt Lysa.
I got your letter.
Mother and I both realized The Queen had made you write it. It became much more clear when we discovered your secret message.
I told you you were clever.
I am sending men into battle with the Lannisters. I wish you not to worry, as this is all for you and our family, but I know you cannot do anything except worry.
I swear it to you, I will get you, Sansa, Arya, and Father out of that place and back to Winterfell again. I promise. I'm coming for you.
- Robb.
Rosaline lightly smiled to herself before glancing out the window, gazing into the distance past the Red Keep. Her eyes glistened in hope all because she knew her older brother was coming to get her.
However, when there was a knock at her door, Rosaline quickly crumbled up the letter, shooed the raven away before facing the chamber door.
"Come," she said.
The door slowly opened to Sansa, a tensed look over her and Rosaline stared at her worried.
"Sansa?" she asked.
"It's father," she said and Rosaline breathed heavily, feeling like her heart froze for a moment. "He's... He's going to... He's going to be brought out to the Sept of Baelor tomorrow..."
Rosaline took a heavy breath and nodded before she pulled Sansa into a hug. The redhead held her tightly as Rosaline fiddled with her hair.
"Everything is going to be okay..." she murmured, but she wasn't even sure if that was true. If her father was going to be brought to the Sept of Baelor, it was going to be memorable. Good or bad, Rosaline didn't know.
༻✦༺
THE NEXT DAY came faster than Rosaline had wished. She had stood in her chambers for the longest time, nervously fiddling with her fingers standing in a light purple silk dress, with her hair pinned up in braids, styling it as she always had.
Finally, there was a knock at her door and her stomach dropped. She flickered her eyes over to her door just as it opened, revealing Bella on the other side, a kind smile on her, but Rosaline could tell it was all a mask. Something to assure Rosaline somehow, but it didn't.
"My lady..." she said as Rosaline stayed silent. "Your presence is wanted at the Sept of Baelor."
Rosaline still didn't say a thing. She just hesitantly nodded before she nervously strolled out of her room with Bella trailing after her. As she walked through the quarters, heading towards the front corridor, her mind raced in absolute fear of the next events. Hopeful more than anything that her father would live, and that her brother would come and take her home.
Once she stepped out of her family's quarters, she came to an abrupt stop when she found Adrian. Standing there. Waiting. For her.
She hadn't seen him since... they kissed. Which was several weeks ago. And he looked... as handsome as ever... but she couldn't think about that now. She had to think of her father and her family.
"My lady..." he said, and she realized how much she missed hearing his voice.
Even from that, Rosaline still didn't speak.
Bella just shot Adrian a soft frown before she urged Rosaline forward, and the Stark girl continued walking forward, strolling right past Adrian as he watched her go. With Bella walking behind Rosaline, Adrian trailed after the girls just behind the servant girl.
When Rosaline stepped out onto the platform at the Sept of Baelor, her eyes glazed over at the amount of civilians in attendance standing before the platform. They were loud. Obnoxiously loud, but yet, she could still hear the loud bells ringing. All of it was overbearing.
She sighed heavily, staring at all the men, and women and children staring back at her. She gazed at them a moment in a mix of emotions before she lightly lifted up her dress, heading across the platform with Adrian and Bella trailing right behind.
She stepped next to her sister, who was already standing on the platform with the Queen Regent and King Joffrey. She stood on another raised floor with the three, which was typically where the royals stood anyways. Rosaline was the sister of the future Queen; she had a place there, too.
Adrian stayed near Rosaline and her sister while Bella stepped off the platform, standing nearby, giving she was only a servant.
The Stark girl fiddled with her fingers, a worried frown over her, as she felt the wind through her hair.
However, when the crowd before her bellowed louder, shouting, 'Traitor! Coward!', Rosaline glanced up to figure out what was going on, but before she could spot her father, she spotted something else. Someone else.
Arya, standing on the statue of Baelor amongst the crowd, staring right at the platform.
Rosaline felt herself go cold in shock. Her brows furrowed, her eyes widened as she and her little sister made eye contact. She hadn't seen her since before her father was arrested. She had been missing. Rosaline was sick in worry, but there she was now, standing on the statue of King Baelor I Targaryen, located in the square in front of the sept. In front of her. She looked skinny. Dirty. Starving. She couldn't imagine what Arya had to do the past several weeks to survive on the streets of King's Landing.
However, when Rosaline could hear approaching men, and see it at the corner of her eye, her attention was pulled away from her sister only to find her father pulled through the crowds in the square by two men of the City Watch. He as well looked the same as Arya, only worse. He still had a limp. He was in a much worse condition and position.
As he was brought up to the platform, he made eye contact with his two daughters. Sansa stared at him delighted, smiling as she nodded at him, while Rosaline stared at him awfully terrified. She was hoping more than anything that her father had listened to her, and if he did, then perhaps everything would be fine. He'd live, go take the black with Jon, and in no time, Robb would be arriving and taking Rosaline and Sansa away. Everything would be okay...
Once Ned was pulled up on the platform, just some feet away from his daughters, Queen Cersei, and King Joffrey, the loud crowd quieted down. Rosaline kept her eyes on him, along with everyone else as he hesitantly said, "I am Eddard Stark. Lord of Winterfell. And Hand of the King..."
He glanced over at his daughters, who both desperately urged him to continue. Even if he hated it. Even if he didn't believe it.
After a moment, he glanced back to the square as he said, "I come before you to confess my treason in the sight of Gods and Men. I betrayed the faith of my King and the trust of my friend Robert. I swore to protect and defend his children, but before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son..."
The crowds began to yell angrily again as Rosaline frowned to herself.
"...and seize the Throne for myself."
Rosaline fluttered her eyes closed for a moment, hearing all the angry chants before opening her eyes again, only to watch someone from the square throw something at her father.
The Stark girls gasped as Ned stumbled back, but was caught by The Hound, who nudged him back in his place.
"Let the high Septon and Baelor the Blessed bear witness to what I say," Ned continued after the square quieted down again. "Joffrey Baratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne..."
King Joffrey grinned to himself as he glanced back at his mother and the Stark girls, however, Rosaline had a clear angst expression over her face. She hated this.
"...by the Grace of all his gods, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."
The crowd began murmuring angrily again, which caused Sansa to gasp as she glanced over at them. Rosaline glanced at the square of angry people for only a moment, not as petrified by their anger as Sansa was.
"As we sin..." Maester Pycelle spoke, causing Rosaline and Sansa to glance over at him, finding him standing next to their father, "...so do we suffer. This man has confessed his crimes in sight of gods and men. The gods are just but beloved Baelor taught us that they can also be merciful." He then turned to King Joffrey and asked, "What is to be done with this traitor, Your Grace?"
Rosaline tightly held her hands, hearing the crowds yell again, only for them to be silenced when King Joffrey raised his hand. Her eyes slowly lingered over to her father, finding how defeated he looked as King Joffrey said, "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the Night's Watch. Stripped of all titles and powers, he would serve the realm in permanent exile. And my Lady Sansa had begged mercy for her father. I as well knew her sister would prefer it as well..."
It was silent for only a moment, but it felt like eternity. Until King Joffrey spoke again, and Rosaline wished he never did.
"But..."
Rosaline's eyes glanced over at the boy king, feeling her heart rushing in anticipation.
"...they have the soft hearts of women. As long as I am your King, treason shall never go unpunished."
Rosaline felt her heart drop.
"Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!"
The crowd roared in cheers.
"No!" cried Rosaline, instantly being held back by Adrian when she stepped forward.
"Joffrey, no," Queen Cersei spat to her son.
"No!" cried Rosaline as Sansa was held back by a guard as well. "Please, stop!"
"Daddy!" cried Sansa. "Someone stop him!"
"My son..." Queen Cersei murmured. "This is madness."
Multiple other guards had to hold the Stark sisters back as Ned Stark was forced to his knees.
"No! Daddy!" cried Rosaline, tears already streaming down her face.
Ned glanced over at her for a moment as Ser Ilyn drew his large sword. He only loudly said, "Keep your promise."
Rosaline choked on a sob, crying out even more as she felt Adrian's grip around her tighten, trying to hold her still.
"Stop! Stop it!" cried Rosaline.
"No! No! Daddy!" cried Sansa.
"Stop!" shouted Rosaline as tears continued to run down her face, forcing to watch as Ser Ilyn approached her Lord Father. "No, no, no, no— Daddy!"
"Stop him, stop!" shouted Sansa as Ned glanced over at his girls one last time, both of them loudly pleading. Begging. Crying, desperately crying for them to stop. "Joffrey, stop! Please!" Sansa continued.
"Please stop!" screamed Rosaline.
Nothing she could do would help; her screams, and shouts, and yells, and pleas, and cries only worsened when Ser Ilyn placed his large sword against the back of her father's neck.
"No!" she cried, feeling Adrian hold her even tighter. As if comforting her in a way.
Then... the sword was swung back onto Ned's neck.
Rosaline screamed in horror as she was forced to watch her father's murder. She shut her eyes, but could hear his decapitated head drop to the wooden platform.
She felt her body go limp in pain, continuing to cry out, gasping on air. She felt Adrian loosen his grip, and release her. She fell right to the ground, crying out with her hands clutched to her chest.
She refused to look in the direction of her dead father, but she could hear them moving it across the platform, moving it away. That made it even worse.
Not as worse when Sansa fainted, and Rosaline gasped horribly. She pulled her sister into her arms, tears continuing to roll down her face. She glanced up, out towards the crowd, towards the statue of Baelor Targaryen. Arya was gone.
She quivered, shuddering madly as she held her sister tightly, a sob escaping her once more. Eyes tightened, the tears flowing down like water.
Across the Narrow Sea, Daeron Targaryen could feel her pain.
༺ ♔ ༻
——— DAERON WOKE UP STARTLED, with a gasp so strong, he accidentally woke up Doreah, who was sound asleep next to him. He heavily breathed as Doreah slowly sat up, staring at him confused. He was confused as well.
"Daeron...?" she questioned as his brows furrowed. "What is wrong?"
"It's... nothing," he murmured, blinking madly. "Just a dream."
He glanced over at her before placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Go back to sleep, love," he told her and she nodded before laying back down. She was asleep within seconds, and that's when he was startled again. That dream... was nothing he'd felt before. It felt... real. Like he... lost something. Someone. A father.
Perhaps his subconscious was just playing tricks on him again; dreaming up his father's last moments. Dreaming up his father's murder by Jaime Lannister. Perhaps it was just that, he told himself. He had to tell himself that... he had much bigger problems to deal with.
His sister had yet to wake since her son was born. Her dead son. And he had no idea how to tell her.