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EIGHTEEN;
『 THE HEIRS 』

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ㅤ     IT HAS BEEN EIGHT MONTHS SINCE THE ONE DAY CIVIL WAR. That's what the people are calling it- the one day civil war. It is a measly title for a measly event. The name "Targaryen Civil War" had also circled around for some time, but I guess the people thought the one day civil war sounded better. More of a mouthful, but better.

I have been in labor for four hours already. My contractions started in the middle of the night. I knew immediately what was happening. It's a pain I've never felt before. For the past four hours the midwives and maesters have been telling me to push, to breathe. They've been giving me remedies to help the pain, but it's still insufferable. My body is drenched in sweat, my hands grip the sheets of the bed with agony, and the sounds that come from my throat are utterly awful.

Aemond has been by my side since I crawled out of bed with the pain. He immediately called the masters, who called the midwives, who flocked to my bedside. Cold cloths have been splashed on my head for the past two hours to try and keep my body temperate down, but I feel as though it may never return to its normal state.

"Push!" The maester says again. I give him a fed-up look, straight in the eyes, as he says this. I clench my fingers tighter around the bedsheets and push again. I throw my head back and let out a series of inhumane sounds.

"The head is coming." He mutters. I push again. This time, I feel a slight sense of relief. He holds the baby up and hands it to one of the midwives. She crosses the room to the table and places my baby on it.

"There's..." The maester breaths. "Another baby in there." I look to Aemond who stands next to me. His face seems just as alert as mine. I sit up slightly, but suddenly a pain shoots through my back. I groan and lay back down, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Your Grace, you will have to keep pushing. It is not over yet." The maester's voice makes me want to kill someone. It's the only voice I've heard for the past few hours. I start pushing again, for the second time in the matter of minutes.

I feel so hot and yet so cold. My body does not seem to know what's happening. I toss my head up and push again and again, clinging to the sheets like a lifeline. Suddenly, like a breath of air, a sense of relief washes through me. I feel so faint yet so relieved. The pain is gone, but my head feels light. The maester hands my baby to one of the midwives and she makes her way to the table where the other midwife is.

The woman that had taken the first baby turns around and walks across the room with my child in her hands. She hands the baby to me. I cradle the child in my arms.

"A daughter." She says with a smile.

I stroke her red skin with my hand. She lays stiffly against my chest. She does not yet know movement. She looks sort of like a fruit, ripe and red. Her eyes are an icy blue. I smile down at her as her fingers brush mine. The other midwife travels across the room to me. I make room in my arms for the next baby. She pushes the baby against me and I cradle this child, too.

"Another daughter." Her voice is calming to me. I look down at the two daughters in my arms. They are the blood of Aemond and I.

We had discussed names previously. I stated clearly that if we had a son, he would be named Viserys, and that if we had a daughter, she would not be named after anyone. I would never want her name to carry a bad omen if the one who carried her name before her had done something terrible. Aemond hovers next to me with his hand presses against our daughters. They have known both their mothers touch and their fathers touch now. They will be loved and they will be cherished.

The midwives press the cloth between my legs to stop the bleeding and bring relief to the pain, but the pain has far passed me. Now my attention is focused promptly on my family.

"This one, in my left arm," I say to the room. "Her name will be Aleema," I press my fingers to her cheek. She looks up at me with big eyes. "She will be the heir." The grand maester approaches my bedside, cleaning off his hands with a cloth.

"Your Grace, would you not want to wait until you have a son to name him as heir?" His voice, again, makes me want to throw myself from a cliff. He has the most annoying voice I've ever heard, and now he's just said the most out of line thing he possibly could have. Who hired him?

"That will not be happening," I state firmly. "The seven realms will know Aleema as their new Queen from the moment she is born. There will be no questions, like there was with myself and my mother." My voice is strict and constricted, but it must be. How my family was torn apart by a simple title will not be the same fate that I bestow upon my own daughter.

"And she," I look to the baby in my left arm. "Will be called Alenora." I smile as he lips part and a smile flashes. They are both so perfect. I hold them both to my chest as they begin to pull down the fabric of my nightgown to feed.

Aemond dismisses the midwives and the grand maester then sits next to me in the bed. The bloodied sheets have been stripped and replaced with fresh ones. I breathe in the smell of my children, their smells of babyhood. Aemond and I take turns, the rest of the night, holding a baby in their arms. I do not recognize the weakness of my body nor how late the hour is and how tired I am. I am focused solely on my children.

Finally, when dawn begins to break, I realize how exhausted I am. We put the babies in the crib in the corner of the room. It's surely big enough for the both of them to share. I can tell them apart but the smallest differences. The freckle on Alenora's left foot, the slightly more raised nose of Aleema. We put out the candles then take to the bed. I know I should rest, but my heart still thumps in my chest from the excitement of seeing my daughters. I love them so much already, more than they could ever know.

"If you hear them cry in the night, do not wake," Aemond says. I turn to face him. "I will get up and tend to their needs. You have already gone through enough for one day. Rest." He plants a kiss on my forehead. I smile and my eyes flutter closed. The last thing I feel before I go to sleep is his hand stroking my hair.

"Our daughters will be the fairest in Westeros."

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