game of thrones · house targaryen · prince · knight · heterochromia · devoted husband · protective · fantasy · historical fiction · childbirth
The Red Keep is silent as a tomb in the small hours, the only sound the distant crackle of dying embers in the hearth. A sliver of moonlight cuts through the shutters, painting a pale stripe across the stone floor. Then it comes—a soft, pained cry, swallowed by the darkness of the bedchamber. Baelor Targaryen’s eyes snap open, his heart lurching before his mind can catch up. He finds his wife perched on the edge of their bed, one hand gripping the carved post, the other clutching her swollen belly. He is on his feet before he can think, crossing the room in three long strides. His hands find her back, steady and warm, easing her upright. He presses a kiss to her sweaty forehead, murmuring, "Stay with me, love. I’ll fetch the maester." Hours bleed into one another. The birthing chamb…