𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 ; act two

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     THE DOORS TO DRAGONSTONE'S COUNCIL ROOM CREAKED OPEN TO REVEAL PRINCESS RHAENYS DESCENDING THE STAIRS, SER LAURENT LEADING THE PRINCESS TOWARD PRINCESS RHAENYRA AND PRINCE DAEMON.

  "The Princess Rhaenys Targaryen." Ser Laurent spoke, his back straightened, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  "Thank you, Ser Laurent." Rhaenyra answered her Knight kindly, "Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for good news of lord Corlys' recovery?"

  "Viserys is dead."

  Rhaenyra paused, eyes widening at the outburst of a statement, a dawning realization washed upon her — she was the Queen now, but with that news came the news of her father's passing. Behind her, the now King Consort, Daemon turned to face Rhaenys.

  "I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra." Rhaenys spoke once again, Rhaenyra's eyes filling with unshed tears as full realization set into her body, "My cousin. Your father. Possessed a kind heart." Rhaenys approached Rhaenyra, a heavy feeling settling deep inside of her, "There is more. . ." Rhaenyra frowned slightly, brows furrowing downward, her tears having yet to spill, "Aegon has been crowned as his successor."

  Rhaenyra's head snapped toward Rhaenys, a sharp pain rushing through her uterus, the Queen hunched forward, gripping her stomach, "They crowned him." Her eyes began to rush back and forth, a heavy breath flowing through her.

  "How did Viserys die?" Daemon questioned.

  "I could not say."

  "How long ago?" Rhaenyra's voice quivered, a break in her throat, hand gripping the bottom of her stomach.

  "A day past, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations." Rhaenys informed the married pair.

  "Viserys has been slain."

  "Alicent," Rhaenyra swallowed, a sense of disbelief running through her body, "demanded you declare. . . for Aegon?" Rhaenyra's head turned toward Rhaenys, a tear falling from her eye.

  "She did."

  Rhaenyra frowned slightly, for a moment, she believed that Rhaenys had faltered to the traitor.

  "I refused her."

  "And yet you are alive."

  Rhaenys cocked her head toward Daemon, raising a brow in disbelief, "The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit." Rhaenyra let out a soft grunt, head snapping toward her stomach, "I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys."

  "They crowned him before the masses?"

  "So that the masses would see him as their rightful King."

  "That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne, and you could have burned more for it." Daemon quipped, his anger striking Princess Rhaenys.

  "A war is likely to be fought over this treachery, to be sure." Rhaenys took a step closer to the married pair, "But that war is not mine to begin. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and my house. The greens are coming for you, Rhaenyra, and for your children." Rhaenyra's head snapped toward Rhaenys, a sense of guilt flashing over the now Queen, "You should leave Dragonstone at once."

  As Rhaenys started to walk away from the pair, Daemon glaring daggers into her back, Rhaenyra let out a sharp cry, her body hunching forward into the painted table. In a haze of panic, the Targaryen Queen hurriedly scrunched her dress, the ugly truth being revealed to Rhaenyra — her babe was coming, whether they were ready or not.

  The sound of metal striking metal could be heard from the beach of Dragonstone. Jacaerys and Lucerys stood together, throwing their swords together harshly — well, Jacaerys seemed to be harsher than Lucerys during this particular training session between the brothers. A few feet away from the brothers sat Nymeria and her direwolf, Kalea. The sound of laughter could be heard from the coast of the Dragonstone beach, Princess Lucera running around with her direwolf, Aneria, hot on her heels, the light pink baby dragon, Charaya, flying above the little Princess.

  Jacaerys let out an angry grunt, swinging his sword down on Lucerys', who stumbled backward from the force of his elder brother, Jacaerys did not falter his movements. The elder brother knocked the blade out of the younger before hitting him in the gut, making the younger stumble, crouching toward the sandy beach.

  "What was that?!" Jacaerys spit out, leaning forward toward his crouched little brother, his grip tightening on Lucerys' arm, shoving him into the sand.

  "I am sorry —"

  "Perhaps you would like to be a little indulgent with him, Your Highness, so that he can learn what you are trying to teach him."

  Nymeria's head turned toward Rhaenys, an overwhelming sense of dread crawling up the woman's spine at the sight of Princess' crestfallen face, bits of ash smeared across Rhaenys' face only made the feeling intensify, "Princess?" Her voice was like a whisper as she approached the Queen who Never Was, dress sparkling with bits of sand, "Has something happened?"

  Rhaenys' glance toward her was quick and brief, her eyes turning toward where the brother's trained on the sandy beach, "Your Lady Mother needs to see you," Her voice was hollow, "All three of you."

  Jacaerys and Lucerys froze in their spots, staring toward Rhaenys, their brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden summoning. Lucera had paused in her movements, her pink dragon stilling on the girl's shoulder, dire-wolf pup standing between her legs.

  Nymeria's gut clung to the desperate sense of dread, her feet pounding against the hard stone of Dragonstone, her heart seemed to be pouding violently in her chest, threatening to burst out of her chest at any moment. She could distantly hear Jacaerys calling her name through her ringing ears, her husband trailing behind her, cradling their daughter tightly, brows furrowed in confusion, watching his wife rush away from him and toward his mother's chambers.

  The Stark woman heard the desperate cry before she entered the room, the sound almost stopping her dead in her tracks, but she forced her feet to slowly move forward. Nymeria felt like one of those terrified rabbits her elder brother used to hunt, slowly stalking toward her demise without even realizing she would be slaughtered in mere moments.

  Rhaenyra's head snapped toward the eerie steps, an almost sad smile washing over her face, sweat ran down her face, exhaustion creaking into her bones, blood covering her lower half. ". . . My sweet girl. ." The words were a hazy whisper, the woman attempting to stand only to hunch back over, an agonizing shout escaping her lips.

  Nymeria's head turned toward Jacaerys and Lucerys entered the room, escorted by a knight of Dragonstone, "Where is Lucera?" Her heart was pounding, unconsciously inching closer to the woman who had helped raise her, desperate to help Rhaenyra, desperate to make sure she was going to be alright. "She cannot be here, Jacaerys."

  "Rhaenys —" Jacaerys' voice got caught in his throat, eyes glued to his mother, "She took her to — to find Lady Erena."

  Rhaenyra let out an antagonizing groan, "Your Grandsire, King Viserys, has passed." She panted out.

  "Viserys?" Lucerys' voice peaked, shock laced throughout his body.

  "The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne." Rhaenyra was wobbling, her knees shaking as she gripped the pillar, hand pressing against her stomach, "Aegon has been crowned King."

  Jacaerys' face hardened, Lucerys' face grew confused, and Nymeria rushed forward toward Rhaenyra. The elder woman was hesitant, desperate to not seem weak in front of her sons, in front of her midwives and maesters, but her pain was growing by the second. Rhaenyra let out a soft huff, reaching out a shaky hand to grip onto Nymeria's arm, using the girl as something to lean against, something warm and comforting instead of a stone pillar.

  "What is to be done about it?" Jacaerys' voice was rough, ready to fight and die for his mother at her beck and call.

  "Nothing yet."

  "And where is Daemon?"

  "I don't know," Rhaenyra cried, "Gone to madness!" She shook her head, gripping onto Nymeria while her hand pressed against her stomach, wishing it would help ease her pain, "Gone to plot his war."

  "Leave Daemon to me." Jacaerys began to walk away, nodding at Lucerys to follow.

  "Jace." Rhaenyra was the first to call out, letting go of Nymeria's helpful arm to wobble toward her eldest son.

  The Prince ignored her, continuing to exit the chamber with his head lowered.

  "Jacaerys!" Jacaerys paused, turning around to face his mother and wife, "Whatever claim remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command."

  There was a spark of fear igniting between the mother and son as Nymeria let the Queen cling to her arm, even if the grip was bruising her skin. Unspoken words sang themselves through the room, Jacaerys knew his mother's feelings, knew her fear when it came to childbirth, and Rhaenyra believed that deep down, she would not survive this. She would be sentenced to the same fate as her late mother and grandmother.

  As her first-born son left the room, a pained groan fell from her lips. She wanted to be strong, to clench her jaw and tell her daughter by law that she would be okay — that she would live — but the words died in her throat, getting clogged deep inside of her throat, sinking into the pit of acid that rested in her stomach, burning up inside of her.

  And for a brief moment, Rhaenyra's face cracked into raw emotion. Her violet eyes welling with hot, acid like tears, her bottom lip shaking as she fought the urge to sink to the floor in a puddle of her own tears and blood.

  Without another word uttered between the two, Nymeria led the now Queen to her bed, but before they could reach the furniture, Rhaenyra sunk to the floor beside the bed, dragging Nymeria down with her, and Nymeria froze, some part of her heart telling her to fight, to shout at Rhaenyra to get up off this floor and deliver her babe.

  But she couldn't. Not when Nymeria's hands trembled as she gently caressed Rhaenyra's hair, the Queen sinking down onto the floor, her back propped up against Nymeria's chest. She couldn't find it in herself to shout when Rhaenyra looked so vulnerable. Blood soaking the white birthing dress, the floor, tears running down her cheeks, her lips attempting to pull into a brave expression only to default back to a deep, hurt-ridden, frown.

  Rhaenyra let out a wobbly half-whisper, half-shout, the sound so full of anguish it made Nymeria flinch from behind her. The Queen's hand pressed down on her thighs as she keeled over, her other hand pressing to the cold stone, and as Rhaenyra let out a loud shout, Nymeria could hear it.

  In the distance, she could hear the sound of Syrax roaring.

  The sound an exact replica to Rhaenyra's; full of anguish, desperation, pain.

  Nymeria is pushed away as soon as she reaches a hand out to Rhaenyra, the Queen now crawling toward a throw chair, her blood soaked hands gripping onto the edge of it to pull herself up.

  "Let me help you." Nymeria's voice edges on pleading as she crawls toward Rhaenyra, her hand's trembling as she sits herself beside Rhaenyra, her heart thudding so loudly in her ears that she can barely make out Rhaenyra's pained shouts. "Please."

  Rhaenyra lets out another pained scream, her bicep keeping her in a squatted position as she leans her entire body against the throw chair, her nails digging into her palms, creating more blood. "— get out of me!" Rhaenrya's words come out in a panicked shout, a flow of blood escaping her as she attempts to push out her babe — alone.

  Nymeria's brows furrow together instantly, concern racing through her veins. "Rhaenyra," Nymeria speaks slowly, her voice quiet and in an attempt to be calming, "Please, let me help you."

  The Queen let's out a soft whimper in pain as she reluctantly nods her head. Nymeria instantly rushes over to her fully, trying to keep a completely brave face for Rhaenyra, even if Nymeria was terrified. Every single bone in her body tensed with fear. Pure unwavering fear.

  Nymeria shakily looks up at Elinda and the other hand-maidens behind her. Nymeria didn't have the full comprehension to deliver a babe; by the Seven, she had barely made it through Lucera's birth.

  "Alright," Nymeria tries her best to smile, her eyes returning to Rhaenyra's as she settles herself in front of the Queen, but she couldn't up-turn her lips. She couldn't. "I need you to push," Her voice wobbles a bit as she speaks, "And— And we're going to get this babe out."

  Rhaenyra looked hesitant to believe those words but she sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, tightened her bicep around the arm of the throw chair and squeezed her eyes shut, putting every ounce of energy she had into pushing her babe out. She put everything she had into making it through this labor alive.

  Rhaenyra let out a loud shout of pain, tears pricking her closed eyes as blood flowed out of her once again. Nymeria's trembling hands gingerly pulling out the stillborn babe, blood coating her hands in an instant, the sight burning an image into her brain.

  Rhaenyra collapsed as soon as Nymeria pulled out the stillborn babe, the wet sound of blood making bile rise in Nymeria's throat as she cradled the blood soaked babe. The Stark woman's shoulders tensed as she continued to stare at the babe — scales lined the babe's head and back, dragon scales.

─── NOTE ;

new year, new writing inspo i guess!

i actually do apologize for the lack of
frequent updates! my life has been 
incredibly busy with school and work! but i hope
to be updating more often!!!

this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :3