•──•─•──•✦•──•─•──•

Time flowed relentlessly, bringing changes that Alicent felt more painfully with each passing day. Hours turned into days, days into weeks, and weeks into moons, yet the queen's heartache did not lessen. At first, her emotions seemed to suffocate her — anger, fury, and a sense of betrayal burned within her like a fire consuming her soul, leaving only ashes in its wake. Over time, however, that fire gradually faded, giving way to silence and emptiness. But the emptiness brought no relief; it was a burden that weighed heavier on Alicent with each passing day, making survival increasingly difficult.

She had always strived for composure and control, but now she could not overcome the sorrow that had settled deep within her heart. It was a feeling entirely new, almost alien, yet disturbingly familiar — reminding her of old wounds she had never fully addressed. Grief overwhelmed her, nesting deep within and seeming to grow with every moment of loneliness she endured, sitting in the empty chambers.

Not long after Maegelle and Aemond's wedding, news spread throughout the realm that the princess was expecting her first child. The announcement sparked a wave of excitement and joy among nearly everyone. Maegelle radiated happiness, and Aemond seemed prouder than ever. Yet Alicent could not share in what others saw as a blessing. Her heart was filled with unease, and questions plagued her mind, robbing her of sleep night after night.

In her desperation, she tried to dismiss the truth that became increasingly clear. She told herself it was all chance, that her daughter's pregnancy so soon after the wedding was merely coincidental. Yet that hope, naïve as it was, proved futile. The words spoken in secret by the maester shattered her illusions, confirming what she had feared most — the child had not been conceived on the wedding night but much earlier. Alicent could no longer deny what was obvious, and the precautions she had taken to avoid scandal had proven entirely ineffective.

The anger that consumed her was scorching, almost overwhelming. She blamed everyone around her. Maegelle — for her recklessness and for failing to take the moon tea that had been prepared for her. Aemond — for his stubbornness and impulsive tendencies, acting without considering the consequences. But above all, she blamed herself. She had failed. As queen, as the one responsible for the realm's affairs, and most painfully, as a mother. She had not foreseen this, had not prevented it, had not done enough to protect her family from something that could have ruined them all.

But anger could not last forever. Day by day, it waned, giving way to another emotion: longing. Alicent, weary of solitude, began to think more and more of the past. With nostalgia, she cast secret glances toward her daughter, recalling the days when Maegelle had been at her side. In a world steeped in falsehood and calculation, her youngest daughter had been her solace. In Maegelle's company, Alicent could simply be herself, without the burden of being a queen. But now, those memories became almost unbearably painful, reminding her of how much she had lost due to one foolish decision.

Loneliness became increasingly unbearable. Alicent tried seeking comfort in her father, but Otto was deaf to her concerns. When she attempted to confide in him, he shrugged her off, reminding her that she had made the decision and must now face its consequences. His words cut her even deeper. She felt abandoned and misunderstood, especially by her own family.

Over time, she realized how much Maegelle had meant to her. With her other children, she had never built as strong a bond as with her fourth child. Maegelle was the one she could talk to openly, the one she trusted most. Alicent only recognized the gravity of her mistake after she lost her. And now, when she wished to mend what was broken, she faced a wall she herself had helped erect. Maegelle avoided her, seeking the company of Aemond and Helaena instead, and Alicent knew she fully deserved it.

And yet, pride would not allow her to admit her guilt. The same pride that was meant to be her shield now seemed to be her greatest enemy. Time passed, and all Alicent could do was watch Maegelle from a distance. She saw her angel radiate happiness as she awaited her child, and every one of her daughter's smiles reminded Alicent of what she had lost. Her heart clenched with pain, and the emptiness around her grew increasingly suffocating.

The burning sense of guilt haunted her every night, tormenting her thoughts even during the day. The memory of Maegelle's childhood laughter brought her pain, stealing her will to live and her good mood. Longing burned her insides, digging a deeper hole in her heart with each passing day.

One day, when the silence in her chamber became almost unbearable, Alicent realized she could no longer endure it. She felt as though she would lose her mind, her heart breaking from despair. She could no longer live watching the relationship between her and Maegelle die. She longed to fix what she had destroyed, though she knew it might already be too late. Perhaps she had been too reckless, but in that moment, she made a decision. No matter what, she would fight for her daughter. Even if it meant confronting her own mistakes and relinquishing her pride. Perhaps Maegelle would never forgive her, but Alicent knew she had to try. Her angel was worth that sacrifice. And she was willing to do whatever it took to regain her trust. Even if it meant tearing her own heart from her chest to prove to Maegelle how deeply she regretted her actions, she was ready to do so.

And so, she found herself standing before the door of Maegelle and Aemond's chambers. Thousands of thoughts rushed through her mind in an instant, but she knew one thing — she could no longer run. She knew she would eventually have to face the consequences of her actions, and it seemed that moment had arrived. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and her fingers trembled as she reached for the doorknob. Without thinking any longer, she turned it and entered, not bothering to knock.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, with the only source of light being the crackling fire in the hearth. Alicent looked around uncertainly, her gaze immediately landing on her daughter. Maegelle sat on one of the sofas, completely engrossed in her reading. Her face was calm, her brow occasionally furrowing as she turned the page. The sight made the queen's heart tighten.

Hearing the sound of the door opening, Maegelle flinched slightly, but did not look up from her book.

"I've already told you, Harra, you can take the day off. I won't need your help for now." she said quietly, not even glancing up.

Alicent swallowed hard, feeling the tension rise in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts and summon even a shred of confidence. She took a step toward her daughter, feeling her heart race faster.

"I'm afraid I'm not your servant..." she said quietly, trying to conceal the tremor in her voice.

Maegelle froze, and the book slipped from her hands, landing with a dull thud on the floor. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, staring at her mother as though she couldn't believe she was really standing before her. Her brows furrowed in disbelief, and then, with difficulty, she began to rise from the sofa.

"Mother?" she asked cautiously, as if afraid it was just a product of her vivid imagination.

Alicent immediately raised her hands, as if trying to calm her.

"Don't get up," she quickly interrupted, stepping closer. Though tension hung in the air, Alicent gently took her daughter's arm, helping her sit back down on the sofa. Maegelle offered no resistance, but her face was filled with disbelief. She looked at her mother, her eyes full of unreadable emotions.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, looking at Alicent with a mixture of surprise and reserve, as her mother sat next to her, keeping an appropriate distance between them.

Alicent pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze in shame. She didn't know what to say. Every word she wanted to speak seemed too trivial or insufficient.

"I..." she began, then sighed deeply, unable to summon the courage. She looked at her with a mixture of concern and guilt. "I wanted to talk to you, my angel," she replied uncertainly, but then added with emphasis, "As a mother to a future mother."

Maegelle let out a quiet scoff at her words, her lips twisting into a bitter smile.

"Now you want to talk?" she repeated in disbelief. "After months of silence from your side? You come here as if nothing happened, as if you suddenly remembered you have a daughter?" she asked with sorrow.

The woman reached out her hand, wanting to touch her daughter's, but she pulled it away, crossing her arms over her chest. Alicent lowered her hand, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

"I know I hurt you," she admitted quietly. "I never wanted you to suffer because of my words or actions. I'm sorry..."

"Sorry?" the princess immediately interrupted her, raising her voice. "You come here after all this, after you ignored me for many moons, and now you expect that one stupid apology will be enough?"

"Of course not, but I can't change the past. Please, let me try to fix everything. I know I have to earn your trust again," Alicent said, feeling her voice begin to crack. "I know how much I disappointed you, and I realize that my words might sound empty now..."

Maegelle looked at her coldly, with a shadow of cynicism in her eyes.

"Empty? That's a rather mild way to put it," she replied, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. "You wanted to call me a whore, mother. Your own daughter!" Maegelle pointed out. "Do you even realize how much you hurt me?"

Alicent froze, feeling her breath quicken and her eyes fill with tears.

"Never—" she began, but the girl interrupted her again.

"But you wanted to. And that's enough."

A heavy, suffocating silence fell between them. Maegelle turned her gaze away, not wanting to look at her mother, who had lowered her head, staring at her hands. Alicent's throat tightened, and her breath caught in her chest. Nervously, she clenched her fingers into the fabric of her green dress, wrinkling it in her hands.

"I'm so sorry, Maegelle," she whispered with a trembling voice. "When Aemond came that day, telling me what happened... I was overwhelmed with anger. No, with rage. It was like someone slapped me and spat in my face. I felt like you had betrayed my trust. I don't know what came over me that I took all my anger out on you, but know that I regret it every day. I shouldn't have done that... I know that no words can erase what I've said, no matter how hard I try, but please, listen to me..."

Maegelle remained silent, gently caressing her rounded belly. Alicent took a shaky breath and continued, her gaze resting on her daughter.

"I don't want to argue with you, my angel. Soon, you'll be a mother yourself. From experience, I know how difficult and lonely this time can be when you don't have someone close by. My own mother, your grandmother, died when I was a child. She wasn't there for me when I gave birth to you or your siblings. I was surrounded only by servants and midwives who were more concerned about what I carried in my womb than about me..." Alicent paused, struggling to swallow her tears. She took a deep breath to continue. "I felt so alone back then. Abandoned by everyone. I don't want you to ever experience anything like that..."

Alicent's voice cracked, and the silence that followed seemed endless. With great effort, she raised her gaze to Maegelle, who had not spoken a word for a long time. Her heart froze in her chest when she saw the reason for her silence. In the firelight, Maegelle's cheeks glistened with tears, still streaming down her face.

Without hesitation, driven by a sudden impulse, she pulled her daughter to her, holding her tightly as if to make up for all the months she had spent in loneliness, blaming herself for everything that had happened. She didn't care that Maegelle might push her away. She just wanted to comfort her daughter, to never again see the signs of tears on her face. But to her surprise, the girl did not push her away. On the contrary — she clung to her mother with all her strength, wrapping her arms around her waist as if she were once again a little girl, seeking comfort in her mother's embrace. Alicent held her even tighter, rocking her in silence, as if she wanted to shield her from the whole world.

In that moment, for the first time in a long while, Alicent felt that something in her broken heart was beginning to come together again. It was as if everything had fallen back into place.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from her daughter, gently caressing her rosy cheek and wiping the last tears from her face.

"Maegelle—" the queen began, but she stopped when the girl looked up at her.

"I forgive you..." she whispered in a trembling tone.

Alicent shook her head.

"Don't say that," she said, looking her in the eyes. "I know how much I've wronged you recently. I don't expect you to suddenly stop blaming me."

Maegelle parted her lips in surprise.

"I'm not blaming you," she replied honestly. "I never blamed you. It's just... it hurt that you rejected me when I needed you the most."

"Oh, angel..." Alicent whispered, hugging her again. "I'm so sorry for everything. I promise it will never happen again."

"I believe you."

Alicent smiled softly, placing a brief kiss on the top of her daughter's head. Maegelle closed her eyes for a moment, then returned the smile. The queen took both of her hands and looked at her with concern.

"How are you feeling, angel?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine. The baby kicks harder sometimes, but the Maester says that's normal," Maegelle replied, a faint smile on her face.

Alicent gently brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's face. Her fingers trembled for a moment, but the look in her eyes, full of tenderness, spoke more than words ever could. Looking at Maegelle, she felt a mix of relief and sorrow — relief that their conversation had brought at least some comfort to both of them, and sorrow that it had taken so many painful weeks and months for them to talk like a mother and daughter. She wondered how on earth she had let them drift so far apart.

Alicent wanted to say more, to find the right words to express everything she felt, but before she could open her mouth, the silence was broken by the soft creak of the opening door. Both women looked toward the sound, seeing Aemond entering the room. Though his posture always exuded confidence, there was something different this time. His face was clearly showing joy, and a spark of excitement danced in his eye.

"Vhagar laid eggs," he announced proudly, his voice filled with genuine excitement.

A small smile appeared on Maegelle's lips, and her eyes sparkled with interest.

"Really?" she asked, rising slightly from her seat to get a better view of her husband.

Aemond nodded, and his joy was almost contagious. However, his expression quickly changed when he saw who was sitting next to Maegelle. The look he gave his mother was cold and reserved. The pupil in his eye narrowed, and his jawline clearly tightened.

"Mother," he said dryly, stressing that he was not pleased with her presence.

Alicent, seeing his reaction, lowered her gaze. She didn't want to escalate the situation, knowing that Aemond still held a grudge against her over Maegelle. She gently squeezed her daughter's hand and slowly stood up from her seat.

"We'll finish this conversation another time, angel," she said softly. She gave her daughter an almost shy smile before heading toward the door.

As she passed by her son, she felt his piercing gaze on her, but she didn't stop. She left the room, and the door closed softly behind her. Aemond stood in silence for a moment, staring at the spot where the queen had just disappeared. His face showed a mix of irritation and anger. Only when he looked at Maegelle did his expression soften. At the sight of her gentle smile, his posture visibly relaxed.

He walked closer, crouching beside the couch where she sat.

"What did she want?" he asked bluntly, a note of concern in his voice.

Maegelle chuckled softly, amused by his overly protective tone. She gently touched his cheek, and he placed a brief kiss on the back of her hand.

"She came to apologize," she replied calmly.

Aemond furrowed his brow, and the look on his face clearly showed disbelief.

"Apologize?" he repeated, with clear skepticism in his voice. "She didn't seem too eager, considering how long it took her."

Maegelle looked at him with a slight reproach.

"Aemond—" she began, wanting to quiet him, but suddenly winced, clutching her stomach.

The prince immediately sprang to his feet, leaning over her with concern.

"Is everything alright, ābrazȳrys?" he asked, worried.

Maegelle nodded, breathing heavily.

"Yes, it's just the baby," she said with a smile, though her voice carried fatigue. "It moves more and more. The Maester says it will be days before it's born, but apparently, he can't wait to come into the world."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, studying her carefully.

"He? You think it's a boy?"

The girl smiled lightly, looking at him with gentle amusement.

"Yes," she replied softly. "Helaena thinks so too, and since she's a mother herself, I trust her."

Aemond was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on her rounded belly. Slowly, he extended his hand, placing it gently on the top of her stomach. The baby, as if sensing its father's presence, kicked with surprising strength. A shadow of a smile appeared on the prince's face, softening his usually stern features.

Maegelle looked at him affectionately, her hand resting on his.

"You'll be a good father," she suddenly said, her voice full of conviction.

Aemond looked up, surprised by her words. "What?"

"I recognize that look," she explained, watching him closely. "You're afraid you'll be just like him, but you're not. You're not Viserys. I love our father, but I know he's not a perfect parent," she added with a sigh. "But you won't be like that. I know it."

Aemond lowered his head, as if her words had touched him. He knelt beside her, and she reached out, touching his cheek. Without a word, he nestled his face into her hand, seeking comfort and support in the gesture.

For a moment, they stayed in silence, until Aemond finally spoke softly. "Aren't you afraid?"

Maegelle fell into thought, gazing at the crackling fire.

"Am I afraid? I'm terrified," she admitted honestly, her voice trembling slightly. "Of the birth, the pain that comes with it, of what could unexpectedly happen... Of being a mother. But all those fears disappear when I remember that I'm not alone." She stroked his head, and he closed his eye, savoring her touch. "You're not alone either, Aemond," she added softly. "You have me, and soon, you'll have our son. Remember that."

Aemond sighed quietly, resting his forehead on her belly. Maegelle smiled, and her lips brushed the top of his head in a tender kiss. In that moment, their worries and tension seemed to melt away, replaced by hope.

***

As the Maester had predicted, the labor began a few days later. The room was stifling, the air heavy with the scent of blood and sweat. Servants and midwives moved frantically around the princess, working to help bring the child into the world. Maegelle lay on the bed, her hands clutching the sheets tightly, groaning in pain. Her face was pale and contorted in a grimace of agony, her body trembling with exhaustion as each contraction wracked her.

Harra watched the princess with concern, holding her hand tightly and trying to lend her strength. The girl's face was a mixture of helplessness and fear. Every so often, she reached for a damp cloth to gently wipe Maegelle's forehead, hoping to offer her at least a moment's relief.

"I can't..." Maegelle whimpered weakly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't have the strength anymore..."

"You must, princess," Harra whispered softly, trying to make her voice sound steady despite the growing fear in her heart. "For your own sake and the child's." She knew her words offered little comfort, but she tried desperately to give the princess even the smallest bit of encouragement. "Just a little more, m'lady, please."

From the other side of the chamber, Alicent observed the scene closely, standing near Maester Orwyle. Her hands were clasped tightly against her chest, her knuckles white with tension. The queen's eyes darted between the faces of the midwives, her lips silently mouthing prayers to the Seven. Every so often, she cast a glance at the Maester, who watched the labor with evident concern.

"This is taking too long..." she whispered, more to herself than to the man beside her. "Why hasn't the child been born yet?" There was a note of panic in her voice.

Maester Orwyle gave the queen an uneasy look, sensing that his explanation might not satisfy her.

"I cannot say, Your Grace. The princess is young and of rather slight build... these things can happen. We must wait."

"Wait?!" Alicent snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I was barely older than she is when I gave birth to Aegon, and he arrived without any complications!"

She stole a glance at Maegelle. The princess seemed to weaken with each passing moment, shaking her head at the midwives' instructions, refusing to cooperate. Alicent's heart clenched at the sight.

"Do something already!" she hissed at the man standing uselessly beside her. "If the child isn't born within a few hours, my daughter will bleed to death!" Her eyes burned with anger, but also with fear.

Orwyle took her words in silence, though a shadow of doubt crossed his face.

"I fear, my lady, that my knowledge is of little help here," he began quietly. "A prayer to the Mother might bring comfort..." he continued, but trailed off under the queen's icy glare.

His words reached Maegelle's ears, and despite her exhaustion, she lifted her head, her wide eyes filled with terror.

"Am I going to die?" she asked in a trembling tone, her voice piercing the room and drawing everyone's attention to her.

Alicent turned to her at once, feeling her heart nearly stop in her chest. In an instant, she was at her daughter's bedside, taking her sweat-drenched hand and gripping it as if to transfer her own strength into her.

"You will not die," she assured her firmly. "I will not allow it."

Maegelle looked at her with terror, her chest heaving with rapid breaths.

"I want Aemond..." she whispered faintly.

Alicent sighed heavily and gently brushed a few damp strands of hair from her daughter's flushed face.

"I know, my angel," she said softly, though there was tension in her voice. "But right now, you must be strong. For yourself and the baby."

Maegelle bit her lip, her hand holding tightly to her mother's.

"If I am to die... I want him to be here," the princess added, sobbing even harder.

Alicent cupped her daughter's face in her hands, forcing her to meet her gaze.

"You will not die," she repeated with greater determination. "You are my sweet girl. I know you're strong. You can do this." Her voice grew more resolute, trying to lift Maegelle's spirits, knowing how desperately she needed it. "Try harder, my angel. I know you can. Before you know it, you'll be holding your baby in your arms." The queen smoothed her daughter's hair gently. "You can do it, Maegelle. I believe in you."

Maegelle said nothing, lifting her tear-filled gaze to her mother.

"Just hold on a little longer," Alicent added, her own eyes glistening with tears she fought hard to suppress.

The princess nodded silently in response. Alicent kissed her gently on the forehead, as if trying to impart the last remnants of her own courage. The queen wrapped her arms around her daughter, letting her lean against her side. The midwives urged Maegelle to push once more, and with gritted teeth and all the strength she could muster, she obeyed.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly, every minute heavy with tension. Maegelle felt the waves of pain growing more intense with each passing moment, but a newfound determination filled her heart. She didn't know if it was her mother's encouraging words or some deep reserve of strength she had never tapped into before, but she began to follow the midwives' instructions with renewed effort, battling through the agony.

As if to confirm her resolve, Maester Orwyle looked up at her and the queen, and for the first time in hours, his expression showed optimism.

"I can see the head!" he called out, a spark of hope in his voice. "Just a little more, my lady!"

At those words, Alicent hugged her daughter tighter, offering her comfort. Soon, the room was filled with the piercing cries of a newborn. Hearing it, Maegelle closed her eyes in exhaustion, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks. Alicent held her close, unable to contain her own emotions.

The Maester carefully wrapped the baby in a soft cloth and smiled warmly as he looked at Maegelle and Alicent.

"It's a boy, my lady," he announced with a gentle smile.

Alicent held her breath, then turned to her daughter. Her face lit up with pure joy, her eyes brimming with happy tears.

"Did you hear that, my angel?" she whispered, gently stroking Maegelle's cheek. "You have a son."

Maegelle laughed through her tears, reaching out with trembling hands for her child. The Maester stepped closer and placed the bundle into her arms. She gazed tenderly at the baby's chubby, red face, then kissed his tiny hand with overwhelming emotion, pressing his small fingers to her lips.

"My sweet boy..." she whispered. "My little angel."

Alicent, watching her daughter, gently ran her fingers through Maegelle's silver hair, still damp with sweat.

"I'm so proud of you, Maegelle," she said lovingly.

The girl didn't respond but leaned closer to her mother, resting her weary head on her shoulder. Alicent clasped her daughter's hand and kissed it, offering her support in that simple gesture. The servants, midwives, and Maester silently observed the queen, her daughter, and the newborn prince.

For a brief moment, peace filled the chamber, broken only by the soft cooing of the baby. But it was soon disrupted by a loud noise from beyond the doors, startling the young prince, who began to cry bitterly.

Maegelle immediately looked at her son, trying to soothe him as she rocked him in her arms. The doors burst open with a resounding crash, hitting the wall as Aemond stormed into the room. He paid no mind to the startled gazes of the servants or the bewildered Maester. Behind him, a breathless Ser Criston followed, clearly trying in vain to stop the prince.

"My prince... wait..." Cole began, but seeing the boy's determination, he faltered.

Aemond came to a sudden stop, taking in the scene before him. His eye rested on Maegelle, and a wave of relief washed over his face. The girl, feeling his gaze, lifted her tear-filled eyes to him. For a moment, they simply looked at each other as if they were the only two people in the room.

"Aemond..." she whispered weakly, her voice trembling.

"Is that...?" he asked, taking a hesitant step toward the bed.

"A boy," she replied, tears welling up again. Her voice cracked with every word. "Your son. Our son."

Alicent, observing the entire exchange, slowly rose from her place. Her gaze grew stern as she looked at the servants, who immediately understood the queen's silent command and left the room at once. As she exited, Alicent cast a brief glance at Maegelle before silently pulling the confused knight with her. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Aemond and Maegelle alone.

The prince immediately moved to his wife's side. His face softened as he knelt by the bed to be closer to her and the baby. Gently, as if afraid his very touch might hurt her, he caressed the girl's cheek. Maegelle closed her eyes, feeling her heart race, and her lips quivered as she leaned into his hand.

"You... you're really here..." she whispered, as if unable to believe it was happening.

Aemond looked at her tenderly, a faint smile gracing his face.

"Of course I am, ābrazȳrys," he replied softly, his gaze filled with concern.

His eye shifted to their son, still nestled in his mother's arms. Hesitantly, he reached out toward the baby's chubby face, his fingertips brushing against the boy's rosy cheek. Feeling the touch, the baby wrinkled his little nose and smacked his lips softly. Finally, he slowly blinked his eyes open, staring ahead. Aemond took a deep breath, his heart pounding. In his son's gaze, he saw almost an exact reflection of both his and Maegelle's eyes.

The princess watched the scene, tears streaming down her cheeks unbidden. She couldn't contain the joy flooding her heart.

"Do you want to hold him?" she asked softly, her voice full of affection.

Aemond looked at her, uncertainty flickering in his expression, as though wondering if it was truly possible.

"May I...?" he asked shyly, motioning toward the baby.

Maegelle nodded, and though exhausted, she smiled faintly as she handed the boy to him. Aemond carefully took his son into his arms, handling him as if a single wrong move might harm the innocent child. He gazed at the baby's tiny face, and for a moment, his stern features softened completely.

"Our son..." he murmured, pride and disbelief mingling in his voice.

"Our Aemon," Maegelle added, prompting Aemond to raise an eyebrow, looking at her with mild surprise.

"I thought you were joking about that name."

The princess laughed softly, shaking her head.

"I would never joke about such a thing," she whispered, her eyes filled with love.

Aemond leaned down, placing a tender kiss on the baby's forehead, then looked back at his wife, his single eye shining with pure joy.

"Did you hear that, Aemon? Your mother never jokes," he said with a slight smile, gazing at the baby's tiny face. In response, Aemon let out a soft yawn and closed his eyes.

Maegelle watched him with love and a deep sense of peace that finally settled in her heart. She rested her head heavily on the pillow, her gaze never leaving Aemond and their son. In that moment, she was truly happy.

***

Maegelle gazed at her son's small face, gently brushing his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

"He's so tiny..." she whispered, her voice a mix of wonder and tenderness.

It had only been a few days since Aemon's birth, and Maegelle still couldn't quite believe it was all real. Looking at his little hands and feet, so delicate they seemed fragile, her heart swelled with a mixture of love and worry. This new life that had entered the world felt so innocent, so defenseless against whatever might await him beyond the walls of the Red Keep.

The little prince's eyes roamed the walls, as though trying to make sense of the world he had just entered. His legs moved restlessly, occasionally kicking at the soft blanket he was wrapped in. Maegelle let out a soft laugh as she reached out her hand, and her son's tiny fingers curled tightly around her index finger.

"Just look at him," she said with a smile, lifting her gaze to Aemond, who was seated beside her. "It's as if he's trying to understand where he is."

Aemond, leaning against the headboard, watched them with the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

"At least the servants won't whisper that he was born prematurely," he remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Maegelle's smile faltered, and she raised an eyebrow at him, her expression clearly unimpressed by his comment. Realizing his mistake, Aemond quickly amended his tone.

"I know, bad timing. I'm sorry," he said, gently touching her shoulder.

Maegelle shifted to make herself more comfortable, leaning her back against his chest. She felt safe in his presence, the sound of his heartbeat soothing her. For a while, they sat in silence, both lost in their thoughts as they watched their son.

"I'm scared..." she whispered suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice trembled, and her hand moved restlessly over the blanket wrapped around the boy.

Aemond, surprised by her confession, looked down at her.

"Of what?" he asked softly, trying not to let his own worry show.

"Everything," she replied, adjusting the blanket around Aemon. Her hands shook slightly as she continued. "Aemon has only just been born, and I already know that something could threaten his life. He's so innocent... so defenseless..." Maegelle's voice broke, and a single tear slid down her cheek.

Aemond rested his chin on the top of her head, his arm tightening gently around her frame.

"Just like you, ābrazȳrys," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her hair.

The princess closed her eyes, soaking in his warmth.

"I'm afraid of what will happen after Father dies, Aemond," she said, her voice trembling again as her gaze fell on her son's now-sleeping face. "Mother is right. If he's gone, we'll be nothing more than obstacles to Rhaenyra's claim to the throne — especially our son, because of his gender. I don't want anything to happen to him."

Aemond listened silently, his expression hardening. When Maegelle finished speaking, he held her closer, careful not to disturb the baby cradled in her arms.

"Nothing will happen to you," he assured her firmly, his hand gently stroking her arm. "If anyone tries to harm anyone in our family, they'll pay the price. I won't let anyone hurt you or our son."

Maegelle looked up at him through half-closed eyes, a single tear escaping down her cheek. Aemond immediately wiped it away with his fingertip, his touch soft against her skin. Without a word, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. They were so close now that they could feel each other's breaths.

His words held a kind of innocence, yet both of them knew their weight. In this brutal world, promises like his were broken far too easily — but in that moment, both wanted to believe that this time would be different.

Maegelle closed her eyes, nestling against him. In his presence, she felt a measure of safety, and the sight of their son's peaceful face gave her the strength to endure and fight, no matter what lay ahead.

Yet the storm was already looming on the horizon, heralding its arrival. And when it came, the dragons would rise to dance — and nothing would ever be the same again.