Red Keep — Queen's Apartments, Day
The chamber stank of blood, sweat, and desperation. The birthing bed had become a battlefield, soaked with pain and crimson. Queen Aemma lay bare from the waist down, her face contorted in unending agony, each scream tearing through the air like the cry of a wounded animal. Maesters and midwives fluttered around her like anxious crows, bowls clutched in their hands, linens streaked with red, and tinctures trembling on silver trays.
Grand Maester Mellos, face pale and grave, turned as the door opened. King Viserys entered the room, his eyes wide with panic.
"What's happening?" he demanded, striding forward.
"The child is in breach, Your Grace," Mellos replied, his voice heavy. "We have tried to turn it, but all efforts have failed."
Aemma let out another piercing scream, her body writhing on the bloodied sheets.
"Help her!" Viserys barked, helplessness leaking into his voice.
"We've administered all the milk of the poppy we dare," said Mellos. "Any more and we risk the child. She fights, Your Grace. But she is tiring."
Viserys stepped closer, fists clenched. "You're the best in the realm, aren't you? Isn't that what they say?"
"We are healers, not gods," Mellos replied solemnly.
Aemma's cry broke through their exchange. "Viserys!"
He rushed to her side, taking her trembling hand.
"I'm here, my love," he whispered.
Her gaze, distant and clouded from the pain and poppy, flickered to him. "Make it stop... please…"
But her plea was lost as she drifted further from consciousness. The maesters and midwives pressed on, working feverishly.
---
Later
A chilling stillness had fallen. The queen no longer screamed.
Viserys lingered on the edge of the room, eyes fixed on her motionless form.
"She seems at peace now…" he murmured.
Mellos approached him cautiously. "She has reached her limit, Your Grace."
The Grand Maester hesitated, then continued, "There comes a moment, in labors such as this, when the father must make a decision no man should face."
Viserys turned to him slowly. "Say it."
"We may be able to save the child… but only by cutting the babe free from her womb. The loss of blood would be fatal."
A hush fell between them.
Viserys turned back toward Aemma, the woman who had loved him, who had given everything for this child. "You… you can save the baby?"
"If we act now," Mellos answered. "Or leave it to the gods."
His jaw clenched. His eyes burned. "Do it."
He crossed the room to Aemma's bedside and took her limp hand in his.
"Is the babe here?" she asked weakly, eyes barely open.
"They're bringing it now," he whispered, pressing her hand to his cheek. "I love you."
A faint smile touched her lips before she slipped away again.
Behind him, the maesters moved in, and then came the shriek — a sound so primal and broken it made Viserys flinch. Though dulled by the milk of the poppy, Aemma's body convulsed under the knife.
Viserys wept silently, her hand still clutched in his. The sounds of cutting, tearing, and the muted gasps of midwives filled the room.
And then — silence.
A moment passed. Then another.
The air cracked as a newborn's wail split the stillness.
The king looked up, eyes wide, as a swaddled infant was lifted from the carnage.
"Congratulations, Your Grace," Mellos said. "You have a son."
Viserys blinked. "A boy…?" His voice barely rose above a whisper. "Baelon…"
He reached for the child, the name already etched in his soul. But joy fled from his face almost as quickly as it came, for the cost of this heir had been too high.
---
Red Keep — Queen's Apartments, Night
The room was cold now. Aemma's bed sat abandoned, soaked with blood that had dried into the white linens like rust. It looked like a murder had taken place.
Viserys sat slumped in a chair beside it, the crown on his head feeling heavier than ever before.
In the doorway, Rhaenyra stood frozen. She refused to cross the threshold, her face pale and unreadable. Her father made no move to acknowledge her.
She turned and fled.
Only after she had gone did Mellos step into the room.
"Does Baelon live?" Viserys asked without looking up.
The Grand Maester said nothing — his silence louder than any cry.
---
Rhaenys' Hill — Dawn
A shroud of white linen veiled Queen Aemma's lifeless body as it lay upon the stone pyre. Beside her, small enough to be nearly missed, was another bier bearing a much smaller bundle.
The bells of the Grand Sept tolled their mourning over the city. A crowd blanketed the hill — lords, ladies, knights, and retainers, all gathered in solemn silence.
The Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon, stood with his wife, Rhaenys, and their eldest son, Vaeron, slightly apart from the crowd.
King Viserys stood robed in black before the pyres. His face was drawn and hollow.
Rhaenyra stood not far behind, her eyes red with grief. But beneath the sorrow, a fire burned.
All eyes seemed to rest on her.
Daemon Targaryen approached her quietly, his expression gentler than usual. "They're waiting for you," he murmured.
Rhaenyra didn't speak. Her gaze stayed fixed on the pyres.
Daemon extended his arm. "Come. We'll go together."
She didn't take it.
Instead, in High Valyrian, she snapped:
"I wonder if, for those few hours my brother lived, my father was finally happy."
Daemon said nothing. His eyes drifted to his brother, wounded and alone in his grief.
Then softly, he replied,
"Your father needs you now more than ever."
But Rhaenyra only whispered back,
"I will never be a son."
She broke away and strode toward her dragon, Syrax.
The golden beast stood poised at the crest of the hill, four dragonkeepers close by.
With tears streaking down her face, Rhaenyra gave the command:
"Dracarys, Syrax."
A torrent of fire roared from the dragon's jaws. Flame engulfed both biers.
Mother and son were consumed together in a pillar of dragonfire.
Two plumes of black smoke twisted upward into the morning sky, swept by the wind.
Daemon stepped beside Rhaenyra.
"The gods are cruel," she said bitterly. "To give my father his heir only to steal him away."
He replied quietly,
"He's still lucky. He has you."
Her response came flat and cold,
"I will never be a son."
She stared into the fire, the glow dancing in her eyes.
---
To be continued...