#like she was going through heavy grief and mourning her children and had a miscarriage because she found out her father was dead

[the-witch-of-woods-beyond]

hate how team green stans jump through hoops to justify alicent’s wrongdoings but then end up backing themselves into a corner.

they want her to be this poor little victim forever stuck at fifteen and ignore the fact that she put her daughter through the exact same thing when she was even younger. but then they also try and say that she was ruling the kingdom for decades while viserys was ill and was the best monarch, and ignore the fact that she was just attacking the heir constantly and used her standing to enforce the laws that were already there. she expected everyone else to suffer and accept their place because she believed herself better than those around her for laying down and accepting her suffering and she attacked those who wanted to benefit themselves and others in a system set against them - rhaenyra fighting for her rightful place as heir despite being a woman. she also silenced others with pain - dyana, the serving girl who was assaulted by aegon (and this was not just a one-of occasion cause the maids were literally shown to be scared of aegon and he is canonically a vile person.)

[deans-baby-momma]

Never Have I Ever-Chapter TEN

Summary: When the Winchester family gets together to commemorate a milestone, the celebration takes a turn no one expected. How will they continue to be a family afterwards? CAN they?!

Or did they cross a line of no return?

Takes place in 2005. Dean is 26, Sam is 22 and Y/N is 19. An AU of sorts as there are no monsters, no talk of the Supernatural.  John and Mary are both alive and had another kid after Sam. Y/N is the baby of the family and their only daughter.

Warnings: language, sadness, funeral, feelings

A/N: This is an Alternate Universe where Mary didn’t die on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery; John didn’t go out seeking revenge on the monster that killed in wife, thus raising his sons like soldiers. No Mary and John is a married couple who have had their bumps and through their 30 years of marriage.

Also a huge thank you to @firefly-graphics​ for providing me with the awesome divider!!

2 years later

Sam rushes out the door and jumps in the cab as soon as it pulls to the curb. 

"Take me to Hilltop Hospital as fast as you can," he tells the driver as he buckles his seatbelt.

Fifteen minutes ago, Sam Winchester received the call that made his whole world come crashing down.

His wife of three years had been involved in a hit-and-run and was being taken in for emergency surgery.  The nurse who had called Sam was a friend and co-worker of Jess' and told him that things didn't look good.

Now here he was in the back of a cab racing across town to find out just how bleak it was. 

He just never expected to find what he walked into. 

As soon as the automatic doors to the emergency department slid open, Jess' co-worker and friend, Ruby, stepped up to Sam.

Her face was tear-stained and her eyes were dull. "I'm sorry Sam."

"How is she?" Sam asks, not comprehending her words. "Is she still in surgery?"

Ruby starts crying and Sam takes a moment to look around. All the staff seem to be somber and heartbroken. 

The next words from Ruby takes Sam to his knees.

"She didn't make it."

Sam feels nauseous. 'This can't be happening.  No way Jess is gone. It's too soon. We were supposed to grow old together,' he thinks as his own tears streak down his face.

Ruby and another nurse, along with two orderlies, help Sam to a chair where he can wait for the doctor to come out to confirm Jess' untimely death.

As soon as arrangements are made, Sam leaves the hospital and goes home, where he promptly calls his family. 

Back in Lawrence, Dean loads Isabella's car seat into the Impala to head to Kansas City as Y/N and Mary walk out of the house.

Dean takes the little girl from her mother's arms and places her in the seat, buckling her in.

Y/N smiles at him before sliding in beside her daughter. "Thanks Dean."

The hour-long trip is a silent one. No music comes from the speakers and not a single passenger utters a word.

They are each stricken with grief at the news of Jess' passing. And so soon after John's departure; each one of them still reeling from the death of the family's patriarch. 

Dean pulls into a parking space at Serenity Funeral Home and quickly kills the engine. 

Inside, the three Winchester adults look for their son and brother as they pass family and friends of the dearly departed, all in differing stages of mourning. 

Dean sees Sam standing at the head of the closed casket and calls Mary's attention to it.

"He's up there beside her," Dean tells his mother.

Mary takes off in the direction of her youngest son while her two other children follow.

"My baby, " Mary cries as she wraps Sam in a hug. "I'm so sorry. I loved Jessica like she was my own."

"Thanks Mom," Sam says and then clears his throat. He nods to Dean over Mary's head. "These are Jess' parents, Richard and Margaret Moore, and her sister Janessa."

Y/N stays back, standing behind Dean with Isabella asleep on her shoulder. She and Sam had had quite the falling out not long after that fateful night of their parents' anniversary party.

Sam had felt guilty and remorseful for cheating on Jess and had said a few harsh words to Y/N, causing a rift to be built betwixt the two younger Winchester siblings. 

Jess had suffered the miscarriage not even a month after Y/N had announced her own pregnancy and she felt that eventually Sam detested the fact that Y/N had a successful pregnancy and a healthy baby when his and his wife's arms had been barren.

Y/N glances at the people Sam is introducing and her breath catches in her throat. The sister is the spitting image of sweet Jess!! 

'Oh god! Poor Sam,' she thinks to herself. 'Having to look at Janessa and see his now deceased wife's clone.'

After the funeral, the family all gathers at Sam's house.

Y/N is in an upstairs bedroom, rocking Isabella when the door opens. She is surprised but nervous to see Sam walk in.

"Hey," she says tentatively. She knows he isn't in a good headspace now and has no idea why he has seeked her out.

"Hey," he answers low. "Can I- can I see my niece?"

Y/N is taken aback at the request. Never in the last year and half has Sam shown any interest in the youngest Winchester.

She sits Isabella up and bends down to whisper in her daughter's ear. 

"This is Sammy, baby girl," she introduces. "He's your uncle."

Sam takes a timid step forward before squatting down in front of the little girl.

"Hi Isabella. You sure are a pretty little thing, just like your Mom."

"Hi," Isabella speaks one of the only few words she knows so far. She doesn't seem to be scared of this 'stranger' and it makes Y/N breathe easier.

Sam reaches out and cups his palm against the babe's cheek, which looks ridiculously small against his  monstrous hand.

"I'm sorry," Sam says, not taking his eyes off his niece. "I should have never said what I did to you. I was hurting."

Y/N knows he is now talking to her and tears pop into her eyes.

"I know. I knew you were in pain and grieving. Yes, the words hurt but I forgave you a long time ago."

Sam glances up at his baby sister and smiles a small smile.

"The Winchester genes are strong in this one," he says after clearing his throat. "She looks like a perfect mixture of you and Dean."

Y/N doesn't know what to say so she just nods. Sam, nor anyone, knew that for the past five years she and Dean have been going at it hot and heavy and the little girl on her lap is the product of that affair.

Instead she just smiles at her older brother.

"Let's hope she's not as much trouble as we were," is the only thing she can come up with.

Later that night, after dropping Mary off at home and going to Y/N's apartment, she tells Dean about Sam's revelation.

"Well he's right," Dean says. "Our daughter is perfect."

"Dean," Y/N admonishes. "What if he knows. What if he tells Mom? How are we going to explain that?"

Dean pulls Y/N into his lap, her legs across his thick thighs. "Baby, don't worry.  Sammy isn't going to say anything and if he does, we'll put it off as the grief talking."

He kisses his sister's temple. "I promise it'll all be okay."

TAGS ARE STILL OPEN!!

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam @death-unbecomes-you @sandlee44 @blacktithe7​ @hoboal87​ @mogaruke​ @deanwanddamons​ @onethirstyunicorn​

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 27

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 27: Ella and Alfie discuss their potential family. At Lizzie’s party, Ella grows exhausted by her brother’s lack of common sense. 

   “Crucified, Ada. Fucking strung up on a bloody cross and shot.” Ella was smoking on the front steps of Midland with her sister. “It’s all going to shit. Tommy’s gone mad.”

           “It’ll be okay.” Ada tried to assure her. She wanted to have faith in their brother. Wanted to believe that he could crush the fascist movement. If there was a man to do it, then Tommy Shelby was the one.

           “Mosley is trying to get to my fucking husband. I swear to God if anything happens to Alfie…”

           Ada hushed her as their sister-in-law came out. “We’re here to take you to the clinic.” She stopped Gina.

           Ella took the woman in. She was beautiful, and no doubt that was what drew Michael to her in the first place. Dressed smartly, she looked like a movie star. “Nice to meet you, sister.” She said and flicked her cigarette to the sidewalk.

           Gina didn’t appear pleased. “I already told Michael, my husband or no one.”

           Ella frowned. The retort put her off almost instantly. “Well, Michael’s not here and we’ve got a car.”

           “There are taxis, even in this fucking city.”

           She scoffed. “This city? Our family owns this city, so you might as well give it some respect.” Sure, Birmingham had some bad memories and maybe Ella preferred London or Margate. But she highly disliked Gina’s tone when talking about Small Heath.

           Ada stepped in before Ella got nasty. “Look, if they don’t hear a heartbeat, they’re going to give you options, none of which are nice.”

           Gina didn’t listen to her appeal. “My husband may do as he told but I don’t.”

           Ella’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you should be a little more accommodating to your new family?” She spoke tersely. “We’ve come as support.”

           “I don’t need support,” Gina replied.

           Thoroughly finished with her dismissive attitude, Ella couldn’t hold her tongue even though Ada gave her a warning glance. “Some of us don’t have the privilege of getting pregnant.” Her voice full of venom. “So why don’t you accept the company and stop being so fucking cold?”

           Gina’s mouth popped up in disbelief. But Ada spoke up again to try and stop the situation from becoming hostile. “C’mon, let’s all just start over again.” She said gently. “We genuinely want to be here for you and Michael.”

           Gina held her purse close to her body and took a deep breath.” Fine.” She agreed and continued down the steps toward the car.

           “Relax,” Ada whispered to her sister before she followed Gina.

           “If she’s going to take an attitude with me…”

           “Just leave it.” Ella’s older sister warned. “This isn’t the time to create rifts in the family.”

           “She’s not family,” Ella muttered under her breath but held her tongue for the rest of the day.

~~~~~~~~~

           “Special delivery.” Alfie came into the sitting room and handed Ella an envelope.

           “Hm, I don’t remember the postman being so lovely.” She teased and drew him close for a kiss.

           He chuckled against her lips. “Cheeky girl.”

           After he pulled away, Ella carefully tore open the thick envelope. “Let’s see…” She pulled out the cream-colored invitation with careful penmanship. “It’s an invitation to Lizzie’s party.” She’d been expecting it ever since her brother mentioned the occasion.

           “Right, penned it my diary.” Alfie agreed and settled into his armchair with a heavy sigh. “Just a dinner, right?”

           Ella frowned. “No.”

           “No?”

           “There’s going to be a ballet. A ballet?” She read over the words a few more times in disbelief. “A ballet at Arrow House? How on Earth…”

           “Now hang on, I didn’t agree to go to a ballet.” Alfie protested, a look of grief crossing his face.

           “Well, I didn’t either!” Ella exclaimed and tossed the invitation to the table. “Bollocks.”

           He chuckled. “What? I thought you’d like a ballet.”

           “Why would you think that?”

           The man shrugged and cracked his knuckles. “You’re a woman.”

           His wife scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him almost in a challenge. “So, I should automatically enjoy ballets?”

           Alfie knew when he was beat. He’d made the mistake of underestimating his wife before, so he decided to admit defeat. “I supposed an abhorrence for ballet can be universal.”

           Ella grimaced at the invitation as if it was leering at her from the table. Typical of Tommy to try and get his family to obey the social laws of Britain’s elite. He wanted so desperately for the Shelby family to fit into the social standing. They weren’t made of old money. None of them had inherited a cent. Instead, they made their way, something that most of Britain’s old money would never understand. What was the use in trying to pretend they were one in the same with people who were born in estates and never went hungry? In Ella’s eyes, they were weak and weren’t cut out for the real world like the Shelbys were. They could play both cards, mingling at a social function and wouldn’t be afraid to walk home through every dark alley. The streets were more afraid of them.

           “I need to walk.” Ella stood up. “I don’t want to think about this.”

           “Do you want some company?” Alfie offered.

           She nodded. “If your hip isn’t giving you too much trouble.”

           He heaved himself up out of his chair and whistled for Cyril and Anthea. “Of course not.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           After bundling up properly and getting the dogs on leads, Ella and Alfie left their flat. Arm in arm, the two were a familiar sight in Camden. The couple frequently took walks together either during Alfie’s lunch break or in the evening when he returned home. Passersby tipped their caps and gave a polite greeting. Sometimes they stopped to chat with neighbors they were close with. It was a familiar landscape and Ella appreciated that. Camden had been her home for so long that she didn’t feel like an outsider as she used to. She wasn’t Jewish but the community had accepted her best they could. Whether it was out of their good graces or fear of backlash from Alfie, Ella wasn’t too sure. But that didn’t matter anymore.

           Passing through Camden Gardens, they arrived at the canal. The dogs tugged on their leads, barking at the ducks that swam past them.            

           “Tommy asked whether we would ever consider adoption,” Ella told Alfie.

           “We’ve already got two dogs, ain’t got enough space for another one.” He replied his mind clearly elsewhere.

           “Not adopting dogs, silly, adopting a child.” She prodded his arm.

           That snapped Alfie out of his daze. He glanced over at her in surprise. “Adoption…what’d you say?”

           “Well, I said we hadn’t thought about it much.” She replied with a shrug. “We haven’t talked much about children at all.”

           Alfie chewed on the inside of his cheek. He had thought about children after the miscarriage. He thought frequently about the things they’d lost and how their children would be nearly three years old had they survived. He tried to imagine how different their lives would be. Chaotic, perhaps, with two toddlers and two dogs. But how lovely it would’ve been. Other than ruminating over what could have been, Alfie hadn’t considered the future of having a family. The doctors pretty much assured Ella that she wouldn’t be able to have children after the shooting. So, they could mourn, but Alfie hadn’t considered the option of adopting. Maybe he’d been caught up on the idea that he wanted children that were his own blood. Was it selfish? Maybe, but it was something he often thought of.

           “I didn’t want to upset you.”

           Ella nodded in understanding. “It’s been a while though.” She reminded him. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

           He met her eyes and considered the possibility. "We can talk about it.”

           There was a silence between them as they stood by the canal. Anthea sat between them, her ears perking up every so often with passing sounds of cars and other people walking.

           “I would like children.” Ella broke the silence. “And wouldn’t it be nice that we could give a child a good home?”

           It did appeal to Alfie’s altruistic side. The man that would take home any pup he found discarded in the street. And to make his wife happy, well there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do. “Right…but m’fraid that once we adopt one, we won’t stop. Soon it’ll be ten kids all running ‘round the flat because we couldn’t turn them away.” He grinned.

           Ella smiled and touched his chest. “Well, we’ll start with one, how ‘bout that?”

           He nodded and kissed her forehead. “Tommy’ll help us out then?”

           “Well, he owns several orphanages so I’m sure he would.”

           Alfie smiled and hugged his wife close. “I want you to be happy. You being happy makes me fucking happy as can be. You want ten kids; we’ll adopt ten kids.”  

           She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think you just want a big Jewish family.” She teased.

           “Well, it were destined, weren’t it? ‘Ccording to me mum at least.”

           “You’ll be the perfect father,” Ella confirmed. “Any child would be lucky to have you as a father.”

           Alfie rested his chin on top of her head as she cuddled into him. He wasn’t quite sure about that. But it didn’t diminish the desire to have a family with Ella.

~~~~~~~~

           The idea of a ballet was nauseating for both Ella and Alfie. But Shelby family events weren’t to be missed unless you were dying in a hospital or going into labor. Since the couple was neither dying nor delivering a baby, they had to attend. Alfie, at least, had the joy of seeing his wife all dressed up like a member of the royal family.

           “Happy birthday, Lizzie.” Ella kissed her sister-in-law’s cheek. “Hope you’re well.”

           “So glad you could make it.” She replied and greeted Alfie. “I hope the drive wasn’t too much of a bother.”

           “Not at all.”

           “Where’s Tommy then?” Alfie looked around the room of elite members of British society.

           “I saw him going into the big room to talk to Mosley,” Polly answered after hugging her niece.

           Ella bristled. “He invited that man?” She snapped. “On what grounds?”

           “On the grounds that he wants to get closer to him,” Lizzie replied with a less than pleased expression on her face.

           Ella looked to Alfie but he just shrugged. She took his arm with a sigh. “Just don’t leave my side.” She mumbled to him. The last thing she wanted was to be caught alone with the MP.

           “Of course.” He replied softly. But secretly, he was hoping to get time alone with the man. Time alone to warn him that if Alfie ever caught him sniffing around Ella, he’d end up buried alive. “Oh look, there’s Michael.” It had been a while since Alfie had gotten a chance to harass the young man.

           “Ella, stay behind for a moment.” Polly requested.

           Reluctantly, Ella let Alfie slip away from her on the promise that he wouldn’t venture too far for too long. “Yes?” She asked her aunt.

           “There’s a woman here asking after your husband.” She directed her niece’s attention toward the blonde woman standing by the fireplace.

           Ella almost would’ve laughed at the absurdity. “Oh yes, we’ve met.”

           Polly frowned. “Who is she?”

           “Why don’t you ask Tommy and his best friend?” She stopped a waiter and grabbed a flute of champagne. “She apparently wants to conduct business with Alfie. She was sent by Tommy but she works for Mosley.”

           “What do you make of it?”

           Ella downed the champagne and made a face. “All I know is he better stop.” She snarled. “This isn’t about Alfie.”

           Polly sighed and kissed her niece’s temple. “Well, you look beautiful. Just try to keep your chin up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie kept his promise and stayed by his wife. He stayed by her when Tommy waved them both over.

           Ella’s grip tightened on her husband’s hand when she saw Oswald Mosley standing beside her brother and sister-in-law.

           “Am I gonna hafta hold you back, love?” Alfie teased. But inside, his blood was boiling. Oh, what he wouldn’t do to take this poor excuse for a man out back and blow his brains out.

           She gritted her teeth. “Perhaps.”

            Tommy cleared his throat as the two approached. “Alfie, I’d like you to meet Oswald Mosley. Mr. Mosley, this is my sister’s husband, Alfie Solomons.”

           The MP put on a nice smile but there was a hint of smugness behind it. As if he knew he already won. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Solomons.”

           “Does it? Well, I s’pose people talk, don’t they?” Alfie was on edge but didn’t show it. He could walk into the belly of the beast with a self-assured smile on his face and a laid-back demeanor. It’s how he called the bluff of so many men who wanted to destroy him. “But this night is about me sister-in-law. Mazel Tov, Lizzie.”

           The Hebrew seemed to cause an involuntary twitch in Mosley’s face. But he recovered quickly. “Yes, the birthday girl. In an effort of being honest with each other, I believe it was a bottle of champagne and an evening well spent.”

           Ella’s jaw dropped. “You little-”

           Lizzie stopped her from going off on the man. She reached into her purse and pulled out a coin. “Actually, it was an evening wasted.” She plopped the coin into Mosley’s drink. “For the champagne and brandy you bought me. I appear to recall it was the booze that put you to sleep prematurely.”

           Tommy, Polly, and Ella all hid their smiles in their drinks. Alfie, on the other hand, wasn’t as good as holding back. He burst out laughing and clinked his glass with Lizzie’s. “I tell ya, Mosley, you ain’t never known a strong woman ‘til you’ve married into the Shelby family. Mazel Tov, Lizzie. Happy birthday, love.”

           Before tempers flared, Tommy stepped in. “The dance will be beginning soon.” He explained and began to direct them towards the back door.

           Ella pointedly looked a Mosley before leaning in to kiss Alfie. “I love you.” She murmured adoringly.  

~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was close to falling asleep. He wasn’t quite out cold like Arthur was, but he was dozing off. Ella was a bit more attentive but wasn’t completely taken by the ballet. If anything, she was a bit concerned, she didn’t think humans could be so flexible. It was quite alarming.  

           Bored, she glanced over to see her aunt had disappeared. At the same time, Tommy was trying to get Arthur’s attention.

           Ella kicked her eldest brother awake. “Psst.” She pointed over to Tommy once Arthur stirred. She noticed a pair of headlights flooding over the lawn and became a bit unnerved. It was unlikely to be a late guest.

           Alfie grumbled under his breath when he felt his wife shift in her seat. “El, where’ya going? Is it over?”

           “No, stay here.” She whispered and quietly slipped out of her seat and out of the tent. She tried to catch up with her brother but his strides were much longer than hers. Halfway across the lawn, she paused to try and see who was standing in front of the headlights. Before her eyes

could adjust to the blinding light, she heard a loud gunshot crack across the dark night. Instinct brought her to the ground. Curling into herself and protecting her stomach.

           Everything went quiet for a moment. In the distance, she could hear the music from the ballet as it came to a bloody conclusion.

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Masterpost

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[samwpmarleau]

Rhaella x Doran her first Yule/Winterfest/whatever in Dorne and the Martells giving her gifts that actually suit her and her interests. I head canon that Rhaella was an accessory and afterthought to her parents- Aerys was the Heir and her parents were narcissists so Rhaella got expensive crap that she hated (she wants books, they give itchy clothes in colors that wash her out, etc)

Another anon asked: I love your Rhaella x Doran fics!! Would it be possible to get a baby betrothed Rhaella post Summerhall worrying that her father will try & force her to marry Aerys, only for Doran or Loreza to swear that will never happen.

@riana-one asked: I think I owe a few fics at this point but could you do Doran x Rhaella happily married & dealing with the political specter of Aerys’s growing instability?

Holidays are among Rhaella’s favorite days of the year. The gaiety, the feasts, the mummers’ productions, she loves seeing it all. What she doesn’t much care for are the gifts she is given to accompany the holidays. Her septa had taught her to be gracious to be given anything, and yet it is as if no one knows her interests at all.

She finds little use for material things, and yet that is almost all anyone bothers with. Heavy earrings and necklaces that weigh her down, hideous and scratchy dresses she would rather use as curtains than wear, garish golden statues that she shoves in her bureau instead of displays. She would rather no gifts at all.

When she makes her new home in Dorne as Prince Doran’s betrothed, she expects more of the same, if perhaps of a different style–silk instead of cloth-of-gold, perhaps, or lapis lazuli instead of rubies.

And so she is surprised when on Maiden’s Day she is adorned not with earrings or a necklace but with a crown fashioned entirely of colorful blooms and The Loves of Queen Nymeria. She thanks everyone, down to little Elia who had helped pick out the flowers, and actually means it.

The crown wilts within the week, but Rhaella’s delight blossoms.

The next year brings with it horror, shock, sadness, and guilt. Rhaella is invited to the gathering of her family at Summerhall, but the thought of seeing her parents, her parents who have never warmed to her betrothal, makes her shy away. She does not want to leave the comforts of Dorne only to be berated and insulted, going hoarse from how often she must defend herself and her family-to-be.

So, she writes Grandfather and tells him she won’t be attending. He writes back to ask her to reconsider, adding in something cryptic about dragons that makes her shiver for reasons she doesn’t know. Still, she refuses, and so he promises to visit one day.

When the news reaches Sunspear of the conflagration that consumed Grandfather, Uncle Duncan, Ser Dunk, Great-aunt Rhae and two of her children, too many servants to name, and leaves Aunt Jenny nearly mad with grief, Rhaella can’t comprehend it. Loreza has to inform her thrice before she fully realizes it is no joke. Worse still, no one can figure out exactly how the disaster happened, other than rumors of wildfire–but, everyone asks, why would there be wildfire there to begin with?

She goes to the burial ceremony in King’s Landing, though it feels an empty affair, for there is nothing left to bury. The fire had consumed even the ashes. The crowns her family had left behind are burned instead, as though that is any compensation.

Father is king now, Mother his queen, and that feels an odd thing. As days pass, the court in full mourning, Rhaella begins to notice her parents looking at her not with disdain but with calculation. Her skin crawls, dread growing, until one day she seeks out both Doran and Loreza. She crosses paths with Aunt Rhaelle on her way, and her fear must be awfully apparent, for Aunt insists on knowing the cause.

“I think they will try to marry me to Aerys now that Grandfather’s gone,” she admits to the three of them. Doran’s eyebrows knit together, and Loreza and Aunt share a glance. “I’m not wed yet and Father is king. He could break the betrothal and command this.”

“That will never happen,” says Loreza at once. “I will not let it.”

Aunt reaches out and pats Rhaella’s hand, her black eyes determined. “Nor I, Ella.”

“But how?” Rhaella asks. She thinks of herself, just five-and-ten, and Doran, three years younger. “We are not old enough to wed yet.”

“Who’s to say?” Aunt asks, once more exchanging a loaded glance with Loreza. “No one need know there will be no bedding until later. We can have the ceremony at Storm’s End, even. Maester Cressen is a close friend, I am certain he would declare you no longer a maiden if need arose.”

Rhaella had not expected this…this haste. She is not ready to add the title of wife. “But–”

“Yes,” says Loreza, energized. “Yes, and no one could claim Dornish trickery in Storm’s End.”

“Even if it is,” Rhaelle smiles. “They do so often forget I am a viper, too.”

With that, what had started as Rhaella merely wanting to air her fears and receive some comfort becomes a scheme to have her married in a matter of months.

It is a mild scandal, when all is said and done, but true to Aunt’s word, there is no bedding–just a kiss to seal the vows, a Martell cloak wrapped around her shoulders. She hears tell of her parents’ wroth–but there is naught they can do now, and once more Rhaella can breathe.

As a child, Rhaella remembers being afraid of Aerys, of disliking him as much as he disliked her. Yet for all that, as the years go by and whispers of madness abound, especially after the fracas at Duskendale, Rhaella finds it hard to wrap her head around. Aerys had been awful, but mad? But there is no disputing his rages–if he is not mad, then he is cruel beyond measure. Is that better?

Through it all, though it makes her feel like a terrible person, she thanks the gods that it is Mina Tyrell who is Aerys’s queen and not her. She had come so close to that very thing, but instead she is wed to a man of unerring kindness and lives in a land of unerring generosity, whereas Queen Mina…does not.

Yes, Rhaella has plenty of sympathy and sorrow for the woman, whose pain and bruises cannot be covered up by any amount of paints, but she can’t summon up regret.

How so, when she feels such joy whenever she watches her family play in the Water Gardens, when the babe kicking inside her–their sixth, despite an early agreement to only have two or three–brings her such contentment, even more so when Doran folds his hand over hers on her belly, speaking promises of love and safety? How so, when Aerys doesn’t have a caring bone in his body and her prince has nothing but?

She stands out on the balcony, unable to sleep, letting the warm, salty breeze wash over her. She knows she is protected here, that she cannot be touched, but still she worries. For the realm, if not herself. Queen Mina is pregnant again after two miscarriages; Rhaella can only imagine the pressure in wanting–no needing–this babe to live and to be a boy. To give the realm an heir at last.

Who would crumble first, Aerys or his bride? Rhaella doesn’t know.

She hears the rustle of sheets behind her, then Doran’s quiet footsteps. “I’ve much on my mind,” she says in response to his unvoiced question. She leans back against him, letting his scent calm her. He has little of Oberyn’s lithe muscle nor Elia’s delicacy, but his heartbeat is strong as any, and as familiar as her own. “Aerys is worse than Father ever was, and we are all at his mercy. I worry what will happen if he goes unchecked.”

Doran is silent for a long while. In the beginning of their marriage, his habit vexed her something terrible, that he would wait so long before answering, even in an argument. But she’s grown to appreciate it, his lack of impulsiveness, how much time he spends puzzling out his opinions. There is plenty of fire within him, but he is careful how he uses it, and in his capacity as the leader of a kingdom, it’s served him well.

“You know of my brother’s friendship with Ser Willas,” says Doran carefully. “It seems there has been…talk.”

“Talk?”

“The Tyrells do not like Aerys’s madness any more than you do. They await the birth of Queen Mina’s child with great interest.”

The implication is clear as the Sunset Sea. Rhaella’s chest feels like it is caught in a vise grip, and she squeezes Doran’s hand. “Then let us pray for a boy.”

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

3 Things Christian Women Need To Know About Miscarriage

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/3-things-christian-women-need-to-know-about-miscarriage/

3 Things Christian Women Need To Know About Miscarriage

Drew Wilson

As the fog of grief slowly begins to lift after the loss of our unborn child, I’ve finally had a chance to think through the thoughts that have circulated in my mind for months. The more clearly I see, the more urgency I feel for women to truly understand what happens in the throes of miscarriage.

Prior to experiencing this loss, I had believed many lies regarding it. And as I speak with women around me I see evidence that I’m not the only one.

With 1 in 4 pregnancies ending in miscarriage, it’s imperative that Christian women become educated regarding this heartbreaking topic.

Women need to be equipped to help those suffering miscarriage. Sooner or later, there will be a woman in your life affected by the death of their baby in the womb, and as the Body of Christ, we must know how to bear their burden with them.

1. Women who suffer miscarriage are mourning a real loss.

Before the loss of our baby, I believed miscarriage was sad. What I didn’t know, was that women who have an early pregnancy loss are mourning more than a dream of motherhood or having more children. Sure, we were hopeful for those things, and for a time it feels as if our hope is crushed, but we are mourning the loss of a real life–an image bearer of God.

There are few words to explain how it feels to miss someone you’ve never met and to love so deeply a child you’ve never held. For mommas, the attachment to our children grows more with each day and change in our body. There is formed an automatic bond from the moment we see that first positive, positively reminding us life is blooming within our womb.

The life of a child, known and loved by God. Our child.

The child we lost.

This is why the common response, “You’ll have another baby.” is not helpful and at times hurtful. When a person has a stillborn child or loses an infant, you don’t hear these words offered up. So, why do we jump to this conclusion with women who have miscarried?

All life is precious, and another baby will be a blessing, but will not replace the one who was lost, nor will it take away the pain of that loss. Babies don’t heal our hearts–Jesus does.

Furthermore, while many women go on to have healthy pregnancies, many do not. Some women wrestle with more miscarriages, infertility or a mix of both. We don’t know what the Lord has planned for each woman and we lack the authority to declare they will have more children.

Because mommas who have miscarried are experiencing real loss, we should also refrain from comparing their pain to that of women who struggle with infertility. These two trials are very different. One is a loss, the other is never receiving. And both are extremely painful. Because of the striking differences, there is no use in comparing the two.

Statements like, “At least you could get pregnant. Think of so and so.” strike the hearts of women who’ve lost children in the womb and make them feel as if they should be glad for the death of their baby. It also hushes them from speaking up about the deep grief they are walking through.

2. Not all miscarriages are the same.

There are so many misconceptions about what happens in a woman’s body physically during a miscarriage. This is because not all miscarriages are the same, and they all have a different set of hard circumstances which come along with them.

Many women experience what is called a “missed miscarriage.” This is when the baby has died but the woman’s body has not recognized it. Many times, the woman goes into her normal appointment, only to leave with her life changed. It is shocking as there was no sign. In this case, the woman has a few options. She can either wait a few more days to allow her body to recognize the loss, take medicine to cause her body to move the process along or have a D&C.

A D&C is typically the route women will take, and while they bypass the physical pain of a natural miscarriage, they are still left with the emotional stress of having their baby suctioned from their womb in the very same way many babies are aborted. As you can imagine, this would be a very hard thing to face and would bring up many emotions.

On the other hand, there are women who miscarry naturally or with the help of medicine. If the pregnancy is very early (3-5 weeks), the woman will most likely experience the symptoms of a heavy period.

But for those who miscarry in the weeks following, the physical pain increases tremendously. This is the case I can speak most clearly to, as this was my experience. Most people are clueless regarding the horrific physical symptoms for women who miscarry naturally, as was I.

If a woman miscarries between weeks 6-later, the pain is likened to labor. The contractions are almost unbearable, the scene is nauseating and the emotional pain is traumatizing. If I explained to you all I witnessed in the days I suffered the loss of our baby, you would be horrified. Many of us labor our tiny, lifeless babies and hold them in the palm of our hand.

This only scratches the surface of what happens to many women who experience death in their womb. I speak of these things because, in order to help our dear friends who may go through this, we need to know what is happening to them. Only then can we begin to empathize with their pain and think of ways to practically bear their burden.

3. The physical and emotional turmoil knows no timeline.

Many believe the physical side of a miscarriage vanishes within a week. But this isn’t always the case. I labored our unborn baby for four days. Four days of intense pain. Some women have less physical pain, some have it worse, ending up in the ER due to blood loss.

During this time of great physical and emotional turmoil, your friend needs you. She needs your prayer, your encouragement and even your physical presence. I am so thankful for the women close to me who truly bore my burden with me. But I know many women go it alone.

Furthermore, there are many things which occur following this loss and they take their toll on a grieving mom. More doctor appointments, ultrasounds and blood tests. More phone calls, baby bellies, pregnancy announcements and that loathed first period. All of these, being reminders of what was lost. Some women go on to have a D&C on top of miscarrying naturally, due to residing tissue with infectious potential.

Even the baby clothes at Target, or a nursery picture on Pinterest can deepen the pain.

We must learn that the grief is real and often long-lasting. Knowing this truth will give us cause not to make claims regarding when someone should be “over it.” They will have good days and really really hard days. Sometimes the pain will fall afresh after many weeks of somewhat normalcy.

Someone who has miscarried a child and knows a valuable little life existed in their womb, will never stop missing that baby; they will never be completely “over it.”

We would do well, as Christ-following women, to remember this, and remember the loss many women near us are bearing.

Burden Bearing Women

Ya’ll, God has called us to bear all burdens of the ladies near us–even the ones we don’t quite understand, and even the ones we feel most uncomfortable with.

Jesus entered our pain and we can all agree it wasn’t comfortable for him in the least. Even so, he stepped in and took our burden upon himself. (1 Peter 2:24).

Here we have a chance to follow in his footsteps by picking up the burden women who miscarry are carrying.

Let’s be Christ-following women; let’s be burden bearing women.