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patheticdarling · 1 year

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Decisions

Part II of Traitors

Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon & her grandmother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen have now successfully fled the capital and have just landed on Dragonstone to warn her mother, Queen Rhaenyra, of the inevitable war to come. Princess Y/N is faced with the toughest of decisions.

Warnings: ANGST/switched povs (aemond’s + reader’s)/cussing/crying/swords/pregnancy/mentions of miscarriage/childbirth/talks of war/burning bodies/ALL RIGHTS TO HBO…possible part 3 👀

Word Count: 5770

*NOT MY GIF*

*Y/N’S POV*

The two of you had made it to Dragonstone safely and quickly. Luckily, the Greens were too busy readying everything for Aegon’s coronation that they hadn’t been prepared for a stunt like the one you and your grandmother pulled. You should’ve been happy as you dismounted Seasmoke, your feet landing on the soft sands of Dragonstone’s beaches.

“Are you alright?” your grandmother asked, rushing to check you over.

You pulled your hands from hers, “I’m fine.” A lie. You both knew it. You had just abandoned the love of your life and it wasn’t even your choice.

She pushed your hair behind your ear, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. If it could be another way-”

“But it cannot,” you cut her off, “Let us go. I’m already dreading telling my mother the news.”

Your grandmother sighed, “Which do you think will upset her more? That her father’s dead or that her stepmother and siblings have betrayed her and usurped her throne?”

“Gods be good,” you muttered as the two of you began your climb up the long steps of Dragonstone. Your swollen feet would’ve given out had it not been for your grandmother lending you an arm.

It had been a while since you’d been to Dragonstone, your mother had taken all of you there to live shortly after Joffrey was born. You had returned to King’s Landing for your wedding when both you and Aemond came of age then you didn’t see your mother until just recently when she came to defend Luke’s right to Driftmark and simultaneously announced your two eldest brothers’ engagement to your younger cousins, Baela and Rhaena. It almost seemed foreign to you even if you had spent most of your early childhood here.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Rhaenys,” Ser Lorent greeted you, “We weren’t expecting you. And on dragon back no less.”

“We need an audience with Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon immediately. It is a matter of extreme urgency,” your grandmother explained.

He gave a curt nod, “Follow me.” He led the two of you through the gates as you waddled and held close to your grandmother. He stopped before a set of doors, “One moment.”

Ser Lorent slipped into the room. You waited for a few moments before he returned, “They’ll see you now.”

You followed him once more into the Great Hall of Dragonstone, “The Princess Y/N Velaryon and the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

“Y/N,” your mother beamed at you. You practically ran into her arms. You laughed as your swollen bellies collided a bit, “You’re glowing. Motherhood becomes you.”

“You as well, Mother,” you smiled back before letting out a soft sigh.

“Princess Rhaenys,” she greeted your grandmother, “Might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?”

“Viserys is dead,” she replied rather bluntly.

“Grandmother,” you snapped at her slightly.

Your mother’s welcoming grin had fallen as Daemon’s head whipped around, “I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart,” your grandmother walked closer, “There is more,” your mother’s hand tightened around yours as tears built in not just her eyes but yours as well, “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.”

A soft wince left your mother as she dropped your hand to cradle her stomach slightly, “They crowned him?” her eyes nearly vacant as the tears slid down her cheeks.

“How did Viserys die?” Daemon asked as he leaned himself and Dark Sister against the Painted Table.

“I could not say,” Rhaenys sighed.

Your mother’s voice quivered, “How long ago?”

“A day past, perhaps two,” your grandmother answered, “Y/N and I were made prisoners in our quarters while the Queen made her preparations.”

“Viserys has been slain,” Daemon asserted.

“Alicent demanded you both declare for Aegon,” she looked between you and your grandmother.

“She did,” your mother’s brow raised at your grandmother’s answer.

“We refused her,” you cut in.

“And yet you are alive,” Daemon had a teary glare set on the two of you.

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit,” Rhaenys explained.

“We witnessed it ourselves just before we fled on Meleys and Seasmoke,” you continued.

“They crowned him before the masses,” your mother’s voice filled with agony as her hand clutched the end of the table.

“So that the masses would see him as their rightful king,” you clarified.

Daemon’s voice full of anger, “That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you both could have burned them all for it.”

“A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure,” Daemon nodded slightly with a grunt, “But that war is not mine to begin. Nor is it Y/N’s. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house.”

“The Greens are coming for you, Mother,” you added, “And for my brothers and for me and my baby.”

“You should leave Dragonstone at once,” Rhaenys turned to leave.

Tears fell from her eyes before a sharp gasp left her mouth, one of her hands clutching her belly and the other on the table for support. All of you turning to her, concerned.

“Mother?” you put your hand to her back as she keeled over, “What is it?”

She quickly folded up the ends of her dress, sticking her hand up the ruffles. A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of her bloodied fingers, “The babe is coming.”

“Maester!” you cried out, “Get the Maester! Now!” The guards in the hall rushed out, Daemon and you moved to support your mother. The Maester met you outside of her chambers.

“We’ve got her,” he reassured you.

“Mother, are you sure-”

“Get out!” she practically shrieked. You and Daemon were quick to listen and scurried off.

“Where are my brothers?” you asked him, practically running to keep up with him as he stormed through the halls.

“Your grandmother has already gone to fetch them from the beach,” Daemon’s voice curt.

“Daemon,” you stopped him, “There was nothing we could have done.”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “Rhaenys, I understand. She’s never been the biggest adversary to your mother or to me. But you? They stole your mother’s birthright and you just let them-”

“I did not! I was made a prisoner. The Queen only kept me alive so she could use me as a political bargaining tool to get my mother to bend the knee! And yet I refused her even when she assured me that no harm would come to any of you if I bowed to Aegon.”

Daemon scoffed, “The One-Eyed Prince must really have you wrapped around his finger.”

“I beg your pardon?” you hissed, “Do not speak of my husband in-”

“Your husband is a traitor. And do you know what happens to traitors, Princess?” your jaw clenched at his words, “They die. Screaming.”

“My husband had no choice, just as I did,” you spat.

Daemon scoffed, bordering on a chuckle, “You just keep telling yourself that.”

*AEMOND’S POV*

“Aemond, please, stop pacing,” Alicent groaned, “Drink some water and-”

“Water?” Aemond scoffed, “Will water bring my pregnant wife back to me, Mother? Will water ever convince her to forgive me? Or me to forgive her? Tell me, Mother. Will it?”

Alicent sighed, “I only meant that you need to ease your mind, darling. Your grandfather has already gone to give Rhaenyra the terms of surrender. No harm will come to any of them, especially not to Y/N.”

“You don’t know that,” he shook his head, “She is going to be surrounded by people who only thirst for the throne, no matter the cost. It was my job to keep her safe and now I cannot even do that. My child will be fatherless and-”

“Your child will not be fatherless because they will have a father,” the Queen Mother cut in as she took her son’s hands in her own, “You will be there to father your child, Aemond. Rhaenyra will agree to Aegon’s terms because it is the best thing for the Realm and all will be as it was.”

Aemond’s hands fell from his mother’s, “It will never be as it was. My wife and child are lost.”

“That’s not true, Aemond,” Alicent sniffled.

“It is, Mother. I will have to learn to accept it. Live with it. I have duties to this family and I cannot allow my judgment to be clouded.”

The Queen Mother was taken aback by her younger son’s words. She had never seen Aemond happier than when he was with Y/N and she nearly wept tears of joy at his excitement to become a father. But that light in his eyes was dwindling and it broke her heart to know that she was partly to blame.

She cleared her throat, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, “We need to send terms to the larger houses first. Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Lord Borros Baratheon seems an ideal man to-”

“I will fly to Storm’s End myself,” Aemond cut in, “Lord Borros has four unmarried daughters. We could promise Daeron to at least one of them.”

Alicent nodded in agreement, “Yes, we could. But Aemond, I only want you to go if you feel-”

“I leave on the morrow,” he answered quickly before leaving his mother’s chambers.

The One-Eyed Prince had chosen to stuff his feelings away, not only from others like his mother, but from himself as well. Aemond had forced himself to face the belief that he would never see his wife again, would never kiss her or hug her. And that his child would never meet him and he’d never get to hold them or watch them grow. His entire heart was gone.

*Y/N’S POV*

The wind carried off the dark smoke of the funeral pyre. You wept softly with your brothers as the flames cradled your late baby sister, who your mother had lovingly named Visenya, after Aegon the Conqueror’s fierce sister-wife.

“This was not supposed to happen,” you sniffled.

Your twin brother, Jacaerys sighed, “No, it wasn’t. First, they killed Grandsire and now our sister. The Greens will pay for this.”

“Jace,” Luke whispered, “Not here. Not now.”

The attention was drawn away from the funeral pyre as a member of Viserys’ former Kingsguard approached your mother. He removed his helm, revealing Ser Erryk, your saviour back in King’s Landing. You turned to your grandmother who already held a small smirk on her face.

Ser Erryk removed your grandsire’s crown from his bag and knelt before your mother, “I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers,” he began to recite the Kingsguard vows as Daemon took the crown from him, “I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honour,” Ser Erryk finished.

Daemon approached your mother before gently placing the crown onto her head and falling onto his knee, “My Queen.”

The rest of you followed suit, slowly bending the knee to your new Queen. You held Joffrey’s hand as you guided him down with you and your older brothers. Everyone was then instructed to gather in the Great Hall to await the arrival of your mother. You elected to walk alongside your brothers and cousins.

“She was born to wear that crown,” you spoke proudly.

Luke smiled slightly, “Grandsire would have been proud.”

“Not if what the Greens claim is true,” Jace scoffed, “He would have rather seen Aegon bearing it apparently.”

“Jace,” you snapped at him, “Our mother is the rightful Queen. No one here thinks otherwise. The Greens will be dealt with when the time comes.”

“And what of your husband, Y/N?” Rhaena had cut in.

You had not thought about Aemond after the events with your mother, “I am not sure, Rhaena. What happens to him will not be up to me but to our Queen.”

“And what if she wants them all dead?” Baela asked, “That seems to be the customary punishment with traitors. Aemond is a traitor, is he not?”

You swallowed hard as you fidgeted with your wedding ring, “I know you’d all prefer it that way,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes, “Aemond, good and dead. Vhagar free for Rhaena to claim, as it should have been, right?” They all stood silent, “I know you all hate him and I know you all have good reason to. But he is still my husband. The father of my child. And the man that I love. So, my apologies if talk about murdering him does not bring me as much joy as it does to you.”

“Y/N, that is not-”

“It’s alright, Luke,” you cut him off, “I do not wish to discuss it further. It is time for us to hear from our Queen.”

You turned, walking ahead of them towards the Great Hall. The rest of the lords and ladies congregated around the Painted Table as it lit up in all its glory. Rhaena had become your mother’s designated cupbearer and waited near the top of the table, Baela joining your grandmother’s side while you and your brothers walked to the far end of the table.

Your mother, accompanied by some of her Queensguard entered the room as Daemon moved to introduce her, “Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” All of us bowed to her, “Your Grace.”

Rhaena approached her, “Wine, my Queen.”

Your mother kindly took the goblet, “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she nodded for both your cousins to join at the table. There was a slight awkwardness that filled the air as you all stood around. Your mother looked uncomfortable, “What is our standing?” she asked.

“We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men at arms,” Daemon answered, “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

“We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” the Maester explained as Jace placed the pieces onto the table.

“My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother pointed to the Eyrie on the table, “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

“Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace,” the Maester noted, “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

“Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother huffed, “He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.”

“I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon answered.

“What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Steffon Darklyn asked.

“There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And with House Stark, the North will follow,” Lord Bartimos Celtigar answered him.

“Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” your mother declared before turning to your grandmother, “What news from Driftmark?”

“Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys answered.

“To declare for his Queen,” Daemon interrupted.

“The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke. He decides where they sail,” she rebutted.

“We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support,” your mother stepped in, “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” she turned back to the table, “And our enemies?”

“We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon explained, “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.”

“Without the Lannisters we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” your mother concluded.

“No,” Daemon was quick to disagree, “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.”

“Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot,” one of the lords spoke up, “Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

Your mother was a bit stunned at first, “The Greens have dragons as well.”

“They have three adults, by my count,” Daemon was again one of the first to speak up, “We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys,” your grandmother scoffed under her breath at the mention of her dragon, “Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Your daughter has Seasmoke. Baela has Moondancer.”

“Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war,” your mother argued.

“There are also unclaimed dragons,” Daemon ignored her as he continued, “Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

“And who is to ride them?” your mother asked. Oddly one of her messengers rushed up the stairs, Ser Erryk going to meet him.

“Dragonstone has thirteen to their four. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon continued, “Now, we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host,” he placed a piece down, “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

Your mother’s jaw tensed at Daemon’s attitude before Ser Erryk interrupted, “Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

Daemon was quick to move, “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies,” he snatched Dark Sister from the table. The guards, your mother, and Daemon went to go meet with whomever washed up onshore. You knew Aemond had not accompanied them, he would’ve rode in proudly on Vhagar.

You were sitting in your chambers, reading an Old Valyrian story and humming softly to your bump, “Ahem,” you looked up to see Jace and Luke standing in the doorway, “May we come in?”

You nodded, “Yes,” placing down your book and standing from your seat, “What is it?”

“We just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Luke answered, “We should not-”

“Not we,” Jace stopped him, “Me. I know what you did couldn’t have been easy, Sister. And I apologize for my lack of empathy. I should have been more understanding of your situation.”

You sighed, “It’s alright. I know your past with Aemond is not a pleasant one,” Luke shifted uncomfortably, “But it is the past. We have grown. We’re not the same people, we’re not children anymore. And whatever is about to happen to all of us is larger than some childhood quarrel. I just want you to both understand that.”

“We do,” Luke nodded, “I’ve wanted nothing more than to put all that ugliness on Driftmark behind me. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did and I know Aemond won’t either. But, that does not mean we should dwell on it. He is my brother-by-law and the father of my future niece or nephew.”

“You’re a good man, Luke,” you smiled at him, reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze.

“Man?” Jace chuckled, “He’s still a boy.” You both rolled your eyes at his lame teasing, “But, he is right. We care about you and the baby far more than some fight from years ago.”

You reached over and gave his hand a squeeze as well, “Thank you, brothers. This talk meant a lot to me.”

“You’re our sister, Y/N. We love you,” Luke smiled softly.

“I love you both,” you hugged them, “I just wonder what the next step is.”

“As do we,” Jace agreed, “The Greens are wise enough to know that they are outnumbered when it comes to dragons. Ships are another thing. Without Grandsire’s fleet, we’re left to whatever men we have on land.”

“Grandsire is a loyal man. House Velaryon is not fickle,” you explained.

There was word that your mother and Daemon had returned from their meeting with the Greens. Otto Hightower, himself, had presented Aegon’s terms of surrender to your mother. All the lords who backed your mother continued to argue back and forth on what should be done next, Daemon and your mother especially bumping heads on the matter. Your paternal Grandsire, Lord Corlys, had finally landed on Dragonstone but he was still weak and needed his rest. You opted to walk the halls of the castle in an attempt to ease your own worries.

“Y/N,” you turned to see your mother walking towards you.

“Mother,” you greeted as she joined your side, “How are you? Is Daemon-”

“Fine,” you could always tell when she lied but you decided not to push the matter further, “And Princess Rhaenys is with Lord Corlys as we speak,” she stopped the both of you, taking your hands, “How’re you, my sweet girl? I feel that with everything that has been happening, I have neglected to check in on you and your condition.”

You caressed your belly, “I’m alright. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.”

“That is understandable. You have been through quite a lot in the past few days. But,” she moved to pull something from her pocket, “Perhaps this will help put your mind at ease.” she extended a letter to you, the Targaryen wax seal still unbroken around it, “Otto Hightower brought it with him. He told me that it was for you, from Prince Aemond.”

Your breath caught in your throat, “Aemond?” you practically choked out as you stared at the letter in her hands, “Did he say anything else? What it might be about or-”

She shook her head, “Only that it be delivered to you directly and urgently.”

You fidgeted with your wedding ring, wondering whether or not you should take it, “I..” you could barely find your words.

“Y/N,” she took the ringed hand you had been fidgeting with, “Take it.”

“But, what if he wants me to come back? Or worse, what if he never wants to see me again? I-I wouldn’t know what-”

“You won’t know what to do until you read the letter,” she cut you off, “So,” she placed it into your hands, “Go to your chambers. Read it. Then decide.”

You nodded, “Yes, Moth- sorry. Yes, Your Grace.”

She caressed your cheek, “I am still your mother. Doesn’t matter if I wear a crown or not,” she kissed your head, “Now go.”

You let out a deep breath before heading towards your chambers. Shutting the door behind you as you finally broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. Immediately recognizing the neat cursive that he had always worked so hard to perfect because “how will I ever be taken seriously if I write like a seven-year-old?”

My Dearest, Y/N,

I know you little thought to hear from me. I little thought to even be writing this letter in the first place. However, I knew I needed to because there is so much I need to say.

I miss you, my wife. My true family. And I know you could probably never bring yourself to forgive me and I cannot say I blame you. I know my decision broke your heart just as yours did mine. I should not have made you choose. And I know we are both in an impossible situation. But I believe I may have found a solution to these problems.

Tonight, at the hour of the wolf. Meet me on the far side of Dragonstone, away from the guards and the castle. Come alone and tell no one.

All My Love,

Your Husband, Aemond

You continued to re-read it as hundreds of questions flooded your mind. What did he mean by solution? What if this was some sort of trap set by the Greens? What if this wasn’t from Aemond at all? And none of them could be answered if you didn’t listen to the instructions.

Even if you told your typically understanding family, war was afoot. Even if your mother trusted it, Daemon would never. He’d go to meet Aemond himself, Dark Sister in hand. Telling anyone was not an option. Once again, you had no choice.

The darkest time of night came faster than you would have hoped for. You paced your chambers for quite a while, spinning your betrothal ring over and over as you did. You nearly jumped whenever you heard guards or servants pass by your door. And before you could think twice, you had thrown on your cloak and boots before walking out of your chambers.

You tried to conceal your face with your hood as you hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone. The sound of your heels against the cobblestone echoed throughout them. You continued a quick pace, well as quick as you could go at nearly eight months pregnant.

“Y/N?” a voice called from behind you.

You turned to see your mother, “Mother,” you gave her a nod, “Good evening.”

She raised a brow at you, “Where are you off to? It is quite late.”

You stuttered a bit before finding your words, “I was just going on a walk. It has been quite hard to find sleep in these last few months of pregnancy.”

She smiled softly, “It was the same for me when I was pregnant with you and Jace. I suppose it must be first-time mother worries and such. Would you like me to ring for a servant? Perhaps they could give you something to help you sleep.”

You shook your head at her offer, “It’s alright. I’ve found that evening air has been the best remedy thus far.”

“Alright,” she nodded, “Be careful. Be sure to find sleep at some point. There is another small council meeting tomorrow and your attendance is needed.”

“Your Grace,” you smirked as you curtsied.

“Good night, sweet girl,” she smiled before turning to her own chambers. You waved her goodbye before continuing on your mission. You had elected not to take Seasmoke, worrying that you might wake someone. The air was crisp and cool as you trekked to the other end of the island. When you had finally made it to your meeting place, the breeze from the ocean was salty as it hit your face and tousled your hair, your fingers twirling your ring round and round.

“You never could break that nervous habit,” his familiar tone practically rang in your ear.

You whipped around to face him, “I-I was not sure what to expect. Part of me believed this to be some sort of trap. I’d be a fool not to be nervous.”

He let out a low chuckle as he finally stepped into the moonlight, “You know me well, my love. But I assure you, I am not here to trick you.” Aemond stalked closer to you, one of his hands slowly taking yours while the other rested on the curve of your bump.

“Then why are you here, Aemond? Surely, it is not to back my mother’s claim or convince me of your brother’s.”

“I am to take a new wife.” At first, his words seemed to be in some foreign language. That was the only possible explanation your mind could muster before they finally sank in.

“W-What?” your voice shook, a combination of anger and sadness. You tore away from his touch.

“My brother’s council speaks of annulling our marriage and betrothing me to one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, so that we may ensure the loyalty of Storm’s End. I am to fly there on the morrow to present the terms to Lord Borros in person.”

The tears welled in your eyes, “And you are telling me this, why?” You did not give him the time to answer, “Did you truly need to hurt me even more? Why not just drive a blade through my heart and be done with it, Aemond? I would rather be dead than live just to see you be given to someone else!” you sobbed, “I-”

Your voice faded off as a sharp pain hit your abdomen. A tightening cramp-like feeling making you gasp and nearly keel over.

“Y/N? What is it?”

“The babe...” you grunted between words, trying to catch your breath, “The babe is coming. Now!”

Aemond did not hesitate to scoop you into his arms, the pain of your contractions distracting you from just how fast he was running.

“Stop there!” Ser Erryk tried to step in front of Aemond.

“Princess Y/N is in labour,” he huffed, “You must let me pass.”

“Prince Aemond, you helped in the usurping of the throne. I cannot allow you-”

“Seven Hells, just let him in! We can deal with all this political horse shit afterward!” you cried.

Ser Erryk seemed taken aback, “Y-Yes, Princess.” The guards finally stepped aside as Aemond carried you through the halls, finally arriving at your bedchamber.

“Get the midwives and the Maester now!” he barked his instructions at one of your handmaidens.

“AHHHH!” your screams practically shook the walls of the castle. Nearly all of the staff questioned Aemond’s surprising presence in the room but were too focused on your labours to pay attention for long.

“Y/N?!” your mother’s voice trembled with worry as she entered your room.

“Mother,” you called out for her, shakily raising one of your hands to her.

“I’m here, sweet girl,” she quickly took your hand, sitting at your side, “I’m right here.” She had been too consumed with you to even note Aemond’s presence on the other side of the bed, “What in Seven Hells is he doing here? Guards!”

“No!” you stopped her, “I-I want him here. He...Seven Hells...He needs to be here. Please, M-Mother.”

She nodded hesitantly as she stroked back your hair, “Alright, Y/N.”

“Push, Princess,” one of the midwives encouraged, “Push!”

“AAAGHHHH! FUCK! AHHHHH!” you screamed, pushing with all your might.

Hours and hours seemed to pass and still, your baby was not here. Sweat dripped from your skin as you tiredly clung to Aemond and your mother.

“I-I can’t,” you whimpered, “I’m...exhausted.”

“The child is close, Princess,” the Maester reassured you, “Just a few more-”

“I cannot!” you exclaimed, panting as your head lolled over to Aemond, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head fervently, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I do, A-Aemond. I could not be the wife you needed. I can’t even birth our child. I-It’s no wonder you will be taking a new bride.”

“You are doing what?” your mother glared at him, “Do you truly think you could just make a fool of my daughter? Of your child? Of our family? I could have your head-”

“Your Grace,” he stopped her, “I have no intention of annulling my marriage to your daughter or make a fool of anyone of you especially not Y/N or my child.”

“B-But you told me that...”

“I told you that my brother’s council desires this. I do not desire being married to anyone but you, my love.” he corrected, “Iksā ñuhon hae iksan aōhon.” You are mine as I am yours.

Aemond pressed his forehead to your damp one, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” I love you. “Now, push. Our child is nearly with us.”

You nodded as you took in a deep breath before resuming your labours. Your nails dug into both your mother and Aemond as you pushed. A sudden relief overcame you as the soft cries of your newborn filled the air.

“A girl,” one of the midwives announced, “As healthy as can be. Praise the Mother!”

Smiles filled the room as they handed the infant to you, “Y-You’re so beautiful,” you cried. But before you could truly enjoy the moment, there was some sort of pressure from between your legs. You assumed it was the afterbirth as you pushed again.

“There is another babe,” the Maester frantically answered as he resumed his work.

“Another b- AHHHHH!” a final scream before those soft whimpers filled the room once again.

“This one’s a boy, Princess,” the midwife smiled, “Just as healthy.”

They handed Aemond the squalling baby boy, “Seven Hells.”

Your mother kissed your forehead, “Well done, sweet girl. They’re beautiful.”

You sighed contently, “Mother, I have something to ask you.”

“Anything,” she smiled.

“I think I want to name her Visenya.”

Tears fell from her eyes, “It is wonderful. Just wonderful,” she sniffled, “And for the boy?”

“Viserys,” you answered, “After Grandsire.”

“My dearest girl,” she sniffled, wiping her tears as she stood from the bed.

“What do you think?” Aemond had hardly pulled his gaze from your children.

He let out a content sigh, “They are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Absolutely perfect.”

And that’s what that entire moment should have been. Absolutely perfect.

Your mother had rejoined your side, Daemon accompanying her this time, “I’m sorry but I must insist that Prince Aemond is removed from these chambers and brought to the cells to await proper questioning.”

“Mother, please,” you begged as the midwife took your son from Aemond while Daemon went to seize him, “Daemon, no!”

“I warned you, Y/N,” Daemon spoke, “This is how it has to be.”

“No, it is not,” Aemond finally cut in.

“You betrayed your Queen,” Daemon scoffed, “You committed treason. And now you must pay-”

Aemond fell to one knee, pulling his sword and raising it towards your mother, “I pledge my sword and my allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” He stood again, sheathing his sword, “I love your daughter, Your Grace. And if bending the knee is all it takes to prove my loyalty to her, then I will do it. And whatever else I must to ensure that I never risk losing her again.”

You bit back tears as you rocked your children. All eyes fell to your mother for the final decision, “Very well. Prince Aemond Targaryen, you are hereby the sworn protector of Princess Y/N Velaryon as well as her children Princess Visenya Targaryen and Prince Viserys Targaryen, and any future heirs she may bear. By order of your Queen.”

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