The cries of Visenya Velaryon echo the halls of Dragonstone into the early hours of the next morning. Her first child was coming two months early than expected, and everyone was worried. Rhaenyra was panicking for the safety of her daughter, her only daughter; she would not lose her only girl. Daemon was nowhere to be found; instead, he was on a mission to find the maester who had been prescribing Visenya the tea–he was out for blood.

"Daemon," Rhaenyra called for her husband as he passed by. Another scream echoed through the empty halls.

Daemon paused, looking over to his beloved wife, whose cheeks were stained with tears. He stalked over to her, blood still boiling. "What?" He sharply demanded, hell-bent on revenge.

Rhaenyra took his hand and tried to compose herself; her only daughter was suffering behind those doors, and she could do nothing. "Forget the maester," she whispered, "find Aemond and bring him here."

Daemon was taken aback. Aemond had yet to be heard from in seven moon turns; why now did it matter? Rhaenyra could see the conflict within Daemon's eyes, "please, he at least needs to be here for the funeral."

Rhaenyra did not know whose funeral it would be, but nonetheless, Aemond needed to be here for that. Daemon nodded and soon left without another word just as another agonising scream rang out, followed by one of the maesters exiting the room.

"She's asking for you," he said, leading the way for Rhaenyra to enter the room.

The inside of the room was a site to behold. Visenya's handmaidens stood only a few feet from the princess as she lent over the table in agony, her underdress drenched in sweat. Rhaenyra rushed to her daughters' side and held her close, "mother."

Visenya looked at her mother, vision hazy and her legs threatening to collapse under her weight. "I can't," she whispered, "he won't come."

Visenya cried again in agony, and Rhaenyra held onto her daughter, trying to support her the best she could. "Come, my sweet child, sit and rest, please," Rhaenyra led Visenya over to the bed, where she lay her down and propped her head up with pillows.

Rhaenyra beacons the nurses to help assist her daughter while she speaks to the maester. "Tell me maester Gerardys, what our are options here?"

Maester Gerardys sighs, not a good sign. "I'm afraid our options are limited princess," he pauses, "is there a husband or a father I may speak with?"

"No," Rhaenyra states firmly, "all matters regarding my daughters well-being are either cleared through myself or my heir."

Maester Garardys looks to Visenya, who's half asleep on the bed. "Princess, we cannot save both; a choice must be made," he regretfully tells Rhaenyra.

Without hesitation, Rhaenyra decided, "my daughter. You will save my daughter."

–––––

Daemon knew he would not reach Kings Landing by the time Visenya had given birth, it was a two-day flight, yet he was determined to bring the news. Soaring over Blackwater Bay gave Daemon much-needed time to think; how would he tell Aemond? What will he tell Aemond? 'Visenya was pregnat but lost the child', 'Visenya gave birth but lost her own life', 'You've lost both your wife and child.' None of these sounded right.

Daemon did not bother with the courtesy of landing in the Dragon Pit; instead, he had Caraxes drop him on the Red Keep's doorstep and fly off. They would not be here long.

"Prince Daemon," one of the guards at the gate spoke, shocked by his sudden arrival.

"Where is Prince Aemond?"

The sky was only starting to blush with the early sun; the prince was likely to be asleep still or just rising. "His chambers, my prince," the other guard told him.

Daemon marched through the halls of the Red Keep, unfamiliar with the decorum that now surrounded him; he scoffed. Queen Alicent has undoubtedly done an excellent job of removing the Targaryen histories from within the walls of the Red Keep.

He found the prince's chambers without interference. Daemon throws open the doors but is greeted with an empty room. "Nephew?" He calls into the dark, no answer.

"Uncle?" A voice calls from the balcony.

Aemond walks into eye line but is hidden in shadow. "What is it that you want?" Aemond steps into the room, and Daemon quickly crosses it, grabbing the prince by his wrist.

"Saddle Vhgar, we must return to Dragonstone at once," Daemon drags a confused Aemond from his room and through the halls.

"Why, uncle?" Aemond questions. After seven months, why only now is he being hauled back to Dragonstone?

Daemon does not speak, not until they have reached the hill where Vhgar rests and Caraxes circles above. "Uncle!" Aemond yells as Caraxes lands, "uncle!" again, no response.

"Daemon!" Daemon freezes and slowly turns to Aemond, finally seeing him in the morning light.

He notices Aemond's face is sunken and paler than when he last saw him. He looks skinner too, and his hair frizzier than last time, but still on his eye, the patch Visenya had made him many moons ago.

"Visenya is with child. Was. Her laubours are certainly over by now," Daemon speaks, this time his voice not as harsh.

Upon hearing this, Aemond quickly mounts Vhgar, and the pair promptly take off into the early morning, flying faster than Meleys herself.

Aemonds' thoughts are running rampant the entire journey to Dragonstone. Visenya had been pregnant with their child? It could be, or the father could be someone else, but if a different man, then why had Daemon come to get him? Daemon didn't seem thrilled when he dragged Aemond from the Keep. Was Visenya okay? Was the babe? Aemond could barely focus, so distracted he hadn't realised night had fallen and the sun was due to rise within the hour.

They both land as the sun rises to mid-morning. The first thing Aemond noticed was how quiet it was. No islanders bustling about or the chatter of the castle's servants; what had happened in their absences?

Daemon throws open the doors and quickly makes his way to the throne room, where Rhaenyra speaks softly to one of the midwives. Aemond notices the blood on the front of her skirt, but that is normal for childbirth, is it not?

"Daemon," Rhaenyra throws herself into Daemon's arms, seeking comfort. They both spoke so quietly that Aemond could not hear a word spoken.

Soon, Rhaenyra's eyes land on Aemond, a pitiful and sorrowsome look on her face. "Aemond," she said, stepping closer and linking her arm with his, guiding him out of the room, "I am glad you came back."

"Where is Visenya?" This is his first question, he has many others, but Visenya is his priority above anything else.

"You will see her soon, but for now, I need you to understand a few things," Rhaenyra had led him to an unfamiliar part of the castle, "Visenya was with child."

"I know that, where is my wife?" He asks, but she continues as if she never heard him.

"Unfortuantly, the babe came sooner than expected." Aemond's heart dropped; he had heard stories of babes born well before their time and the things done to the mother to save the babe.

"It was a boy–" a boy, Aemond had a son, "–and it was my understanding you both wished to call him Baelon," Rhaenyra took Aemond by the hand and led him inside the unfamiliar room.

Inside, candles dimly lit the room without windows. Silent Sisters moved in harmony around the table in the centre of the room, quiet and without a word spoken. Aemond stepped closer to the table, allowing himself to look at what sat upon it.

His heart sank, the air left his lungs, and his blood ran cold. In the middle of the table lay the smallest babe he had ever seen, the body a light shade of blue and face scrunched together in a silent scream. He stepped closer.

The few hairs that adorned the babes head were silver, the rest smeared with blood. Aemond dropped to his knees, examining the unmoving child on the table; his unmoving child. A few tears fall from his eyes; how could he mourn a son he never knew? And what about its mother?

Without moving, Aemond asks his question again, the one nobody had answered since he took off early yesterday morning. "And the mother?"

Aemond feels a hand on his shoulder, "sleeping. The price Visenya paid to survive her labours was a high one, one she is still paying for."

Aemond stands, looking down at his half-sister. "When will I see her?" He asks, trying to keep his composure. One wrong word, and he was sure he'd either break everything in the room or break himself.

"Time will tell. Only her closest handmaiden has been allowed in the room," Rhaenyra spoke softly, trying to ease the young man who had just lost his son and almost his wife.

Aemond was confused. Her own blood hadn't been in the room since the labours were over; why?

"I'll explain more later, Aemond; for now, worry about your family," Rhaenyra gestured to the table.

Aemond turned, looking at his son's face, suddenly all alone. Carefully, he lifted the tiny babe from the table and held him close to his chest. The body was cold; the child had not lived for some time. "Baelon," Aemond whispered to his son, holding him close.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," he told him. Another question; why did he not know that Visenya was with child? Was everyone as clueless as he was back home, or was it just him?

–––––

Hours had passed since her labours, but Visenya still could not muster the strength to stand. "Delaya," Visenya painfully calls for her handmaiden.

"Yes, princess?" She responds, magically appearing at the princess's side.

"I wish to bathe. Could you get the water ready," Visenya asks, painfully sitting up.

Delaya excuses herself and goes to the task at hand. Visenya looks around the room; you would have never known she had just experienced the pain of childbirth and the loss it comes with.

"Mother, I'm scared," Visenya sobs, holding Rhaenyra's hand tightly.

Filled with milk of the poppy, Visenya's body was weak, but the child had still not come–the maesters resorted to other options. "I know, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra stroked her daughters' sweat-covered forehead, "but I promise all will be well soon."

Visenya suddenly screams; the babe is being removed.

Delaya helps Visenya to the bath and carefully helps her wash up. "Any news?" The princess asks as her back is being washed.

Delaya hesitates at telling Visenya the news of her husband's arrival, but that is all she asked for during the labours, "Prince Aemond arrived earlier today."

Visenya's body stiffens. He's here, Aemond was here, on Dragonstone. "Help me dress please Delaya, and then fetch my husband for me," she demands, part of her strength suddenly restored.

"Princess, are you sure that is the right choice considering your state?" Delaya asks, knowing that once Visenya had to set her mind to something, nothing would stop her.

Visenya turns to her handmaiden, "You either dress me and bring him to me, or I walk to him as naked as the day I was born."

–––––

Aemond was waiting outside the castle walls for news of Visenya's wellbeing when her handmaiden came to collect him. It was a short walk to his wife, but every step felt heavier than the last, and suddenly, he had no clue what he was going to say to her. Seven moons can change a person; childbirth changes a person.

Delaya pushes open the heavy doors and lets Aemond step inside. He jumps at the sound of the doors closing, now realising he shares the space with Visenya, alone.

"Aemond?" A soft voice calls from behind the bed curtains. His heart lurches at the sound of her honey-sweet voice but breaks at her weak tone.

He cautiously walks over to the bed. Visenya can hear his footsteps and see his shadow, but it isn't until he pulls back the curtain does her heart truly sing.

The first thing they notice about each other is how weak they both look. Aemond's glowing presence is now like a flame about to go out, and Visenya's radiating warmth is now replaced by the cold ice of a long winter.

"You look..." Aemond trails off, unsure of how to proceed with his following words.

"Like shit?" Visenya jokingly asks, breaking all awkward tension.

Aemond lets out a small laugh, which makes Visenya smile wide–she missed the sound of his laughter, the way the corner of one eye creased, and how his face lit up. She missed him.

"Somewhat," Aemond responded, taking in Visenya's pale and sickly appearance. Thinking about what she had to endure alone makes his heart sink.

Visenya pats the bed in front of her, "Sit." Aemond looks at the place on the bed; they'd be sitting close together for the first time in months.

Visenya watches Aemond intensely, waiting for his next movement. She was sceptical about the gesture, worried things may go wrong, but when Aemond sat down and took one of her hands, all her worries dispersed.

"How were your labours?" Aemond asked, avoiding eye contact.

Visenya watches Aemond's fingers slowly draw circles on the top of her hand–love replenishes her body. "Long and difficult," she starts, "but I still live another day."

Aemond finally meets her tender gaze, feeling the warmth of home encapsulate his body. Home. "Did you see him?" Visenya asked, the air suddenly becoming sombre.

"I did," Aemond spoke softly, "he would've made a dashing young prince."

Visneya smiled, the first genuine smile within the last two days. "He looked a lot like you," she tells him, reminiscing how the babe felt in her arms.

"He's out!" Maester Gerardys cheers.

Everyone in attendance to the princess relaxes, she is still alive, and the babe was removed without killing its mother–a miracle.

"Let me hold him," Visenya weakly speaks from her position on the bed.

All her nurses and handmaidens help Visenya into a sitting position. The young woman is weak, but the determination to hold her child at least once keeps her going. Maester Gerardys has the still babe wrapped in a cloth and carefully passes him to the princess.

Visenya takes her child into her arms and holds him tightly, fawning over him. "He's beautiful," she whispered, gently stroking his face.

Too soon is the joy of childbirth gone and replaced with grief. When Visenya comes to and realises the babe hasn't made a sound, tears begin to fall freely down her face. "You would have been amazing my dear Baelon," she muttered, delicately kissing the babes forehead.

"So he was mine?" Aemond questioned.

"Of course he was yours, and I deeply apologise for not telling you as soon as I found out," Visenya said, cupping Aemonds' hand within hers.

Aemond lifted Visenya's hands to his lips a placed a tender kiss on top of them. "Do not fret about that now, we'll discuss it more when you are at better health," Aemond stood from the bed and began tucking Visenya into its warm and soft sheets, "now rest my dear."

Visenya's heart flutters at his kindness; it appears her husband's feelings for her had not changed in all their time apart. However, when Aemond turns to leave, Visenya quickly grabs his hand, "stay," she whispers.

Aemond looked at their hands and then at her, eyes pleading for him to stay almost to the point of tears. Without another word, Aemond slowly shuffles into bed next to Visenya and holds her tight.

The pair fall asleep in each other's embrace, wrapped within a world of their own.

–––––

A/N:

I'll apologise right now for the lack of updates. You'll have to be lenient with me as I am juggling a lot of personal issues, such as my health, but I will try my best to update more frequently–the aim is once a month.

For now, please enjoy this chapter and the rest to come :))