The Great Stone Hall of the Red Palace seemed to shrink around you, each wall pressing in, each ceiling lower, each window reflecting the faint light of dusk as if mocking your pain. The three of you, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and you, were bound by a pact that no one at court could ever understand: married, sharing nights, secrets, intimacy, and desires, united by duty, passion, and something that oscillated between love and necessity. Before that, your life was intense and alive, filled with stifled laughter in the corridors, knowing glances, and secret whispers that only reinforced that no one else could touch you. The belly that grew slowly inside you was a silent promise, a shared future, a little dragon that would be born of three flames, something that would further solidify what everyone knew was forbidden but inevitable.

And then, suddenly, everything fell apart.

The miscarriage came without warning. The pregnancy, which had been uneventful until then, had already been celebrated in silence. You had sewn little clothes, imagined the baby in your arms, thought of names whispered to him. And then, suddenly, the blood, the pain, the absolute emptiness.

You didn't cry out loud, because you couldn't. The world seemed to have been sucked out of you, leaving only the weight of loss spreading through every muscle, every breath. Lying down, curled up, trying to become invisible, you swallowed the guilt, anger, and pain that grew in your chest. You barely left your room, barely touched your food; even breathing was a titanic effort. Every second weighed a ton. Every memory of life slipping through your fingers was a silent stab. You felt you had failed, that you had betrayed something deeper than you could bear.

Daemon heard the news and entered quietly. The ferocity that had always defined him was contained, controlled, but it vibrated, almost imperceptibly, beneath the surface. He didn't know what to say; there was no gesture, touch, or word that could undo what had happened. Even so, he approached you cautiously, each step measured, each breath conscious, as if afraid to break you further. Finally, he leaned in, and his words came out low, charged with strength and fragility at the same time: "You are not alone. Not now, not ever again."

Rhaenyra sat down beside you, approaching with the care that only someone who loved you deeply could have. Her fingers traced slow circles on your hand, trying to convey something greater than words, something tangible and secure. "It's not your fault" she said, her voice breaking, firm and soft at the same time. "Nothing you did could change this. But we are here. We're here."

You heard them, but you didn't want sweet words, you didn't want comfort. Their sound cut through you like invisible blades, reminding you of the absence of what you wanted most. You wanted them to shut up. You wanted them to bring your baby back, to turn back time, to erase the pain. Your gaze wandered, empty, fierce, caught between despair and anger, because no promise, no hug, no words could fill the space that only your lost child now occupied in your heart.