bookpower Chapter 388: First Meeting in the Reflections of the Moon
Chapter 388: First Meeting in the Reflections of the Moon
Chapter 388: First Meeting in the Reflections of the Moon
As the minutes dragged on, Laena's agonized cries grew more intense and desperate, each cry a testament to the intense pain she was enduring.
Crunch...
The attic door creaked open, and an old maester with a deeply furrowed face emerged, moving with hurried steps.
Daemon's face tightened, and he rushed to meet him.
The old maester, sweat dripping from his brow, whispered urgently, "A full-term pregnancy is ten months, but Lady Laena is only eight months along. It's extremely difficult for a premature baby to be born safely."
Laena had conceived earlier this year, and now, in late July, she was eight months pregnant. With the medical limitations in Westeros, premature births were dangerous and often equated to difficult labor.
Daemon, stunned by the maester's words, glanced anxiously toward the attic and asked, "Is there any way to ensure a smooth delivery?"
"I learned a technique in the Citadel to assist labor, but it doesn't work for every woman," the old maester replied, his voice laced with helplessness.
Daemon, momentarily dazed, patted the maester's shoulder and said heavily, "Do everything you can to protect my wife and child."
"I will keep you informed of any developments," the maester assured, wiping the sweat from his face before quickly returning to the attic and closing the door behind him.
Daemon stood there, watching the door close, then turned and scratched his long hair in bewilderment.
Laena's first labor had gone smoothly, resulting in the birth of twin daughters. With that experience, Daemon had hoped this time would be safer.
"Uncle," Rhaegar's voice broke through the tension, his eyes filled with concern as he approached.
Daemon glanced at him briefly, then tugged off his cloak and discarded it, continuing to pace restlessly in front of the attic door.
He had noticed his nephew's arrival but chose to ignore it out of sheer frustration.
Seeing Daemon's distressed state, Rhaegar took a deep breath and decided to let it be.
Before arriving, he had many things to say. But with Laena in labor, any words felt out of place.
"A woman giving birth is a terrible ordeal," Rhaegar muttered to himself, stepping back from Daemon.
With that, both uncle and nephew fell silent, each retreating to his corner, lost in thought.
Daemon's mind was consumed with worry for his wife and the premature labor, while Rhaegar's thoughts wandered to Rhaenyra and the memories of his mother's difficult childbirth.
"Roar..."
The only sound in the large vestibule was Vhagar's low, mournful roar. The old dragon, sensing its rider's pain, let out wails of sadness mixed with anger.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly.
The birth was not yet over, and Laena's screams gradually weakened, fading into an unsettling silence.
Bang-
The old maester burst out of the door, his dry, thin hands stained with blood.
Daemon, his face a mask of worry, hesitated to speak.
The old maester’s expression was despondent as he apologized, "There’s really nothing I can do. The child refuses to come out."
Daemon’s heart sank. He moved toward the attic, but stopped halfway, his gaze fixed on the scene inside.
"Push hard... ma’am... push hard..."
"Ah... ha..."
In the spacious hall, a large bed had been improvised. Several demurely dressed women bustled around with basins of water.
Laena was kneeling on the bed, her body sprawled forward, hands clutching the sheet as she wailed in agony. Her loose white dress was soaked with blood, her desperate cries echoing through the room.
The old maester followed quickly, his voice sorrowful, "I’m terribly sorry, Prince."
Daemon stood silently, his eyes locked on his wife. He murmured, "My brave wife."
Laena had helped him win the battle to take Tyrosh. Now, without rest, she fought alone on the birthing bed.
Rhaegar, who had arrived quietly, leaned against the wall to listen. Laena was his acknowledged cousin and housemate, the rider of Vhagar, and he had no intention of leaving.
"Ma'am... you need to push... hard."
"Ah... get out..."
Laena's hoarse voice echoed through the room. Her body was tense, shaking with effort, tears streaming down her face.
The pain was unbearable.
The women around her anxiously encouraged her, wiping her sweat and checking on the progress of her labor. With no one else in the Archonh's residence and the neighboring civilian physicians hiding, unwilling to help the invaders, the only assistants available were the women who had given birth before.
The old maester hesitated before speaking, "We can perform a cesarean section, but I can’t guarantee the child will survive."
Rhaegar’s head snapped up, his eyes fixed on Daemon and the old maester.
His mother had died from a cesarean.
Daemon, obviously thinking the same, glanced quickly at his nephew in the corner.
The prostitutes, still shocked at the wonders of blood sorcery, reacted by rushing to move Laena onto the bed.
"Ah... ha..."
The movement involved severe pain. Laena clenched her teeth and lay down on the bed to lift the blood-stained dress herself.
When pregnant women give birth, there is no difference between men and women in this kind of situation.
Rhaegar turned his head sideways, his gaze falling on the two men around the corner, and said weakly, "Come over here and handle the knife. Do you think I know how to cut open a woman's womb?"
"Yes." The old maester's eyes shone brightly, and he flew to prepare the belly planing tools.
Daemon froze and hesitantly stepped back.
He was shocked. It seemed that the means to make the sword burn with fire at the tournament was just the tip of the iceberg.
But none of that mattered, only that his wife would be able to give birth safely.
A short period of preparation passed.
Laena lay on the bed with her legs wide open, several prostitutes holding her arms and legs.
Rhaegar held the dragonglass candle in one hand and stroked her belly with the other.
Zip~
The glass candle ignited, and the serpent that manifested in his right hand fluttered about restlessly.
He had two dragonglass candles, one that empowered the Enchantment Spell, and one for casting [Reflections of the Moon].
The planchette would be cut sideways along with the uterus, and the excruciating pain and bleeding would be fatal.
The Serpent's Rune ability was not enough and needed to be augmented with an Enchantment Spell.
When the old maester took out his knives and aimed them at the incision, Rhaegar said in a deep voice, "Do it!"
"Ah!!!"
At once, miserable screams resounded inside and outside the attic.
...
Ten minutes later.
The bed was soaked with blood, and Laena's screams had long since lost their strength. Her eyes were full of despair, her neck straining, and she lay paralyzed on the bed.
Rhaegar's face was pale, constantly urging the serpent while his gaze remained fixed on the candle flame of the glazed candle. It was proving to be more bloody and cruel than he had imagined.
At first he had hoped to save both Laena and the child, but now it seemed that even the saving of one of them would be a matter of luck.
Zira!
As his mind wavered, the candle flame flared violently, as if fueled by oil. Rhaegar's eyes widened, and his consciousness shifted instantly.
The blood on the dragonglass candle was rapidly absorbed, triggering both [Reflections of the Moon] and [Dreamscape].
...
"Ah...... don't......"
As soon as his consciousness cleared, a woman's miserable scream resounded in his ears.
The voice was very unfamiliar, yet inexplicably felt familiar.
Rhaegar froze and opened his eyes.
He was in a bedroom, the mural on the wall looking very familiar.
Looking around, Rhaegar froze on the spot.
On a birthing bed, a silver blonde woman wailed piteously, her round belly sliced open with a bloody gash.
A group of familiar maids surrounded the bed, pressing down hard on the woman's arms and legs.
On one side of the bed, the younger version of his father waited anxiously, his head bowed and his face tense.
At the end of the bed, the Grand Maester Mellos, his face grim, had his hand deep inside the woman's stomach, trying to pull out the baby.
"Viserys... no..."
The woman cried out in pain, shaking her head violently.
Viserys, at a loss for words, closed his eyes and prayed to the Seven Gods.
Rhaegar witnessed the scene and stared intently at the woman's face.
Long silvery blonde hair, delicate features, and sweat dripping from shock.
The eyes were almost identical to Rhaenyra's, and somewhat like Rhaegar's.
With just a glance, Rhaegar recognized the woman's identity and murmured, "Aemma... Mother."