"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐡𝐞𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝."

━━━ 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐲𝐥𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐧, 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 & 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐇𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐬

The halls of Runestone sat in silence, until a deep grunt of pain filled the castle walls.  It was only the beginning, as the howls, low but painful, led on for hours without end.  Maids carrying blood soaked sheets rushed from the room, while some with water or fresh linens scurried inside.

The Lady of Runestone was giving birth.

Rhea Royce had never been a particularly flimsy girl.  She spent her days riding in the lush hills throughout the Vale, hawking and hunting as any boy befitting her station would.  However, the strife of childbirth was an obstacle that could fell the even the strongest of women.

She hadn't ever planned on having children, or at least more than an heir.  When she came of age, she was arranged to marry Daemon Targaryen, the brother to the newly crowned king.  She worried that it would change her existence, that she might be forced to move into the Red Keep, leaving her horses and rocky mountains behind.

Luckily, or rather unluckily from another perspective, Daemon had no interest in the marriage that he was forced into.  He left Rhea alone most of the time, much to her pleasure. 

It was a blissful existence, to be married but not have to perform any of the necessary duties.  She quite enjoyed the life, never thinking she'd be thanking the Seven for a marriage to the Rogue Prince.

That was until the war in the Stepstones.  It had been waging for a few years now, ever since the Triarchy had gotten out of control.  King Viserys seemed to be content to ignore the coastal war forever, though Lord Corlys Velaryon and her husband Daemon made it their obsession.

But three years was a long time to constantly be on the battlefield.

So, throughout those years, Daemon flew his red dragon Caraxes to Runestone more often than he ever had.  While Rhea had been surprised that he'd come to pay her any mind while he was fighting a war, she'd been less so when she heard the rumors that King Viserys had banished him from King's Landing.

And that first night they dined together.  It was quite odd actually, but Rhea enjoyed having someone else to fill her hall other than her many cousins.  Daemon entertained himself, ranting and raving about the current state of the Stepstones and the damned Crabfeeder who'd been the bane of his existence for three or so years.

And on the second night, they drank.  They talked less, instead enjoying the strong, spiced Dornish wine that Rhea had asked the servants to fetch from the casks of Runestone.

It had been that night that they'd consummated their marriage.  Fifteen years after they'd said their vows.

Rhea knew that she would likely consider it a mistake by the next morning, but at some point she didn't really care.  She didn't care about Daemon and the Seven knew he didn't care about her, but sometimes she wished to seek pleasure, and what easier way to do it than with the only person she was legally allowed to be with?  She supposed it was safer that way.

Just as she'd suspected, Daemon had left on Caraxes in the morning, leaving a note with the Maester that he'd returned to the fighting.  Rhea knew the risks, that their tryst might present her with a child.  She had never particularly strived to be a mother, though she considered the idea that it would give her someone to share her time with.  Somebody to teach riding to, someone to leave Runestone to.

And it was after Daemon's third sporadic visit that she discovered she was in fact with child.

She wasn't overly excited, but she also wasn't devastated.  She'd long accepted that her dalliances with Daemon might end this way, but she didn't care because it would be her child.  Not Daemon's.  Not when he only ever visited Runestone under the guise of drinking and fucking.

The pregnancy had been anything but pleasant, especially when the Maester forbade her (or at least strongly suggested) that she shouldn't go horseback riding, hawking, or hunting, especially the more her belly grew.

She was in her fifth moon of pregnancy, her stomach beginning to truly protrude, when Daemon returned again.

When he entered the main hall, dropping his armor haphazardly on the floor, the screech of Caraxes could be heard from the rocky crags outside the castle.  Rhea wasn't sure how Daemon would react, but in the end she supposed it wouldn't matter much to her whether he was happy or not.

The first thing he noticed when he saw his lady wife was that she was wearing a dress.  Rhea never wore dresses unless required by a formal event, usually optioning for riding leathers, even when she wasn't going out.

It was only after she turned more to the side that Daemon understood why Rhea would be wearing a dress so casually.

"I suppose there's no point in asking if it's mine?"

Rhea scoffed, not surprised that was the first question he'd elected to ask.  She approached him, trying to make sure he understood that just because she was in a "delicate" state didn't mean she was going to be a delicate woman.

"Unlike you, I don't go off fucking whoever I want based on whimsy," she retorted, her sharp tone making Daemon smirk in delight.

"Well, this is good news, I'd wager.  Our child will inherit Runestone and my brother can get off my back about being a good husband."

Rhea raised her brow in sarcastic confusion, "I thought you'd become estranged from your brother, or have you yet kissed his knees and begged for forgiveness?"

She knew the comment wasn't the most tactful, but at the moment she couldn't quite bring herself to care.

"Yes, but he becomes weak in the face of familial harmony," Daemon mused, making his way to one of the velvet chaises that stood in the antechamber. "Plus I am fighting and winning a war in his name.  I do think a runt and a victory will be enough to get myself back in good graces soon enough."

At the mention of the word "runt," Rhea rolled her eyes in disgust.

"I know you have no wish for a tedious fatherhood, but our child will be of the blood of Old Valyria, of all those purebred ideals you purport," she reminded him, "Especially if the babe comes out with silver hair."

Daemon shrugged, "Well, only time will tell on that."

But now the time had come.

Daemon was nowhere to be found within Runestone's walls, yet the Maester had insisted on sending a raven to the Velaryon army in the Stepstones to notify the prince regardless.  By the time he would get there, if he came with any haste at all, hopefully the babe would be out, or at least that is what Rhea hoped.

The pains were sharp and she took deep gulps of breath while she tried to remain about her senses.  She was the Lady of Runestone, and she refused to descend into madness.

When the babe was born, she wanted to hold and cuddle it, to cherish the life she would get to cultivate, yet she knew the cold hard truth of what was occurring.

There was too much blood.  The pains weren't in the normal area.  She could feel her muscles weakening.

Laying in the birthing bed, Rhea gulped as her mind fought to disregard what her heart was so vehemently shouting: that she was not going to survive this birth.

There would be no teaching her child to ride a horse, nor how to hold a bow or climb the rocky hills.  Instead, she'd become a brood mare for the Targaryen dynasty.  Her babe would surely be taken from the Vale, with only distant male cousins that would be able to look after them.  Daemon might take up his child, but if he did not, Rhea dreaded that her child would be thrown somewhere to ward and be forgotten.  Perhaps at the Eyrie, or maybe with the babe's uncle in King's Landing.

"My Lady-"

"Seven Hells," Rhea let out gutturally, then she paused, "I know, I know."

The Maester gave her a pained  look and set his hand lightly on her shoulder, "There is no chance of saving you, I'm sorry."

She didn't have time to process the revelation before another contraction came over her, sending her doubled down, her head burying itself in the mess of blankets as she grit her teeth in pain.

Dutifully, the Maester guided her back up to an upright position, dabbing her forehead with a linen cloth.  He continued his fruitless attempt at comfort before speaking again, "But the babe, the babe will survive."

In her haze, Rhea looked over to the grim faced man who'd been by her side from the moment she regrettably found out she was with child, "I will not have you cut me open like a pig for slaughter, not like my good-sister."

Her words filtered a haunted atmosphere into the chambers.  The handmaids who were preparing strips of cloth looked up, pausing.  What tragic news that the rumors of the late Queen's demise were true.  And now their lady would seemingly face the same fate.

The Maester straightened quickly, moving away from the bed and whispering orders to the handmaids and the head midwife.  They all scurried to complete his orders while Rhea sat in the bed feeling powerless.

"Maester Elwyn, please I beg you," she felt tears begin to stream down her face.  She needed him to know how utterly serious she was.  She wasn't one for crying but this would be the one time she would cry until her eyes shriveled up dry if it meant she could die with dignity.

"My Lady, I am not speaking of cutting into the womb," he clasped her hand in his.  Rhea suddenly thought back to when she was suffering a fever at the age of ten in this very room, and Elwyn had held her hand in much the same manner.

"What?" Her voice was meek and unsure, completely unfamiliar, and she couldn't help but dread at the idea that she wouldn't even die as her true self.

"You are bleeding far too much, but I can still deliver the babe," he traced a fatherly circle on her hand, "But I must do it now."

The time had come.  And it had been all for nothing.  A child she'd never know, a life she'd never get to see herself.

Rhea took a deep breath in and let out a shaky nod.

The rest of the labor was as melancholy as a birth can be.  Rhea was pushing, and she could feel the blood pooling in droves between her legs but she kept going, because if she wasn't going to live past the sunrise, then she might as well fight with all the fury she possessed.

Spots had begun to fill the sidelines of her vision, and she only felt momentary relief when the pressure she'd been feeling for hours, slowly dissipated.

She heard Maester Elwyn speak to her, though it took a few seconds before she was able to comprehend his news.

"It's a girl, my lady," he gently said, prodding at the corners of her conscience.  Elwyn had wrapped the babe in a mauve linen, though the small thing hadn't been cleaned of sludge of birth. 

Rhea had the oddest feeling he'd done this for her benefit.  So she'd have as much time with her daughter before the Stranger took her.

Her daughter.

Just that thought fried whatever senses she still had remaining to her, though she felt her chest warming as Elwyn placed the babe in her frail arms.

She hissed in pain as she felt the afterbirth sliding out, more blood surely following.  Forcing her neck down, she looked at the babe.

"Ev...," her voice trailed off before she could speak her daughter's name.  Elwyn was sure that Rhea was trying to say Evelyn, the name of her own lady mother who was born Evelyn Corbray.

"Is that what you wish to name the child, my lady, Evelyn?"

Maester Elwyn's inquiry fell on deaf ears as Rhea Royce faded from the world.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐯𝐞𝐞!

━━━ 𝐲𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐮𝐩!  𝐰𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧.

━━━ 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞, 𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐩𝐬𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝/𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲.  𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲

━━━ 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐢'𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐰𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝟒 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞.  𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.... 👀