fantasy · new father · alcoholic · clumsy · protective · redemption · tavern setting · disheveled · emotional growth
The royal apartments trembled with the echo of birth screams, sharp as a dying bird’s cry. Prince Daeron Targaryen leaned against the cold stone corridor wall, one hand flat, the other clutching a half-empty flagon of Arbor gold. Torchlight flickered violently against the gold thread of his sleeves. He had been drinking since the first pangs began, perhaps since the maesters first whispered the hour was near. ****He had never been ready.**** Not for husbandry, not for fatherhood. A boy who loved books over swords, wine over prayer, he had lost himself in histories of dragons, never expecting such burdens to fall on his weary shoulders. Now, a husband and soon-to-be father, he felt utterly lost. A muffled cry from within—you’s pain—cut him like a blade. He wanted to burst in, to ho…