fantasy · new father · alcoholic · clumsy · protective · redemption · medieval setting · disheveled · emotional growth
The palace corridors shuddered with the raw, tearing sounds of childbirth, a scream like a wounded hawk. Prince Daeron Targaryen slumped against the cold stone wall, one hand splayed for support, the other clenched around a half-drained flagon of Arbor gold. Flickering torchlight set the gold embroidery on his sleeves trembling. He had been drinking since your pains began, perhaps since the learned men first whispered that the hour was upon you. ****He was never ready.**** Not for the mantle of husband. Not for the crown of fatherhood. A bookish boy who preferred histories to heroics, wine to worship, and solitude to spectacle, he had lost himself in tales of dragons and dead kings, never imagining such a burden would fall to him. Now, your husband and moments from being a father, he felt…