⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ °• ☼ CHAPTER NINE: UNDER THE MOONBEAMS ☾ •°⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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IN THE MIDDLE the following year, Queen Rhaella Targaryen fell pregnant. It was not the first time she'd been pregnant since Nessie was born. In fact, it was one of many. Shaena Targaryen had been born a stillborn in the year after Nessie's birth; Daeron had been born two years later and had lived only half a year; in the two years after, Rhaella birthed a child each year and both were stillborn, both unnamed; and in the years later, Jaehaerys had been born and died in the same year. The closest she'd gotten to having a younger sibling other than Viserys was in 272 AC, when Rhaella gave birth to Prince Aegon Targaryen. But he never made it to twelve months.

          Nesaela shouldn't have expected anything more—she shouldn't have thought the child would turn out anything but stillborn or dead; but the truth was: Nessie was lonely. So often, Viserys was kept from her due to Aerys' paranoia—perhaps afraid that Nessie might kill her brother so she would be in line for the throne—and her mother had other duties to attend to. Rhaegar was becoming so more and more absent from their family, and it frightened her that he might be planning a rebellion against his own father, or sneaking around with another woman.

          Nesaela had Tylan, Elia, baby Rhaenys, and Elia's newborn, Aegon, each whom she loved and cherished, but she wished she had a younger sibling who she was allowed to adore and spend time with, who, she hoped, may be a girl like her. It was why she adored the time she was allowed with her mother, though with Aerys' frequent executions and periods of madness it was becoming fewer and fewer.

          But, when she lay with her mother on her bed and lay her head on Rhaella's stomach, hoping to hear a heartbeat, Nesaela felt at peace. Even now, while she was writing poetry at her desk and her mother lay on the long couch, she looked at the bump swelling at her mother's belly. "You should call her Daenys, if it's a girl." Nesaela suggested, putting down the ink and pen. Her mother looked up from her stitch-work at the words.

          Rhaella smiled softly. "Oh, but my love, Daenys is your second name. Don't you think we should name her something new?" Rhaella's fingers brushed along the swell of her stomach. It was too early to start naming the baby anyway. It was most likely the baby wouldn't make it half a year.

          Nesaela hadn't seemed to think of that, instead of settling down in her cushioned chair with a sigh. She seemed to think for a moment with squinted eyes. "Something with the nickname Dany, then," she settled on. "I like the name Dany."

          Her mother smiled at the girl, ink smudged across Nessie's cheek carelessly and lilac eyes bright. Beside her ink-stained fingertips lay pages of poetry, both newly written and old. Rhaella touched her daughter's chin, smile full of pride and love. "Okay, Dany it is then." Rhaella placed a hand on her curved belly, and Nessie's hand joined hers.

          Rhaella couldn't help but feel uneasy. Naming a baby was declaring it as her own, and she was sure the gods would have it soon enough.

          For the months after, Nessie would greet her mother with a polite greeting and greet Dany also. She would ask her unborn sister—she still hoped it was a sister, declaring she would be betrayed if it turned out another boy—how she was doing, and hummed to her mother's belly as they lay together. Rhaella could never hope more that the child would not die at birth: for both her daughter's and her own sake—Rhaella had become hopelessly attached to the unborn child.

          She did nothing different from what she'd done in the past—just as she'd did when she'd had Nesaela and Viserys, and the stillborn children; just as the Maesters told her. But the gods were cruel, and sometimes they just decided she was not worthy of the child. King Aerys watched her every move, waiting for something which he could use to blame her the moment the child came out stillborn. He checked each of her drinks before she swallowed them in case they contained poison intended for the baby; her food was tested; and she was chained to the bed at night to prevent her from possibly harming the unborn child; she was not allowed to roam freely.

          For the first time, Nessie realised that her mother was a captive in her own home. She was the Queen, but she was a prisoner. She couldn't leave Kings Landing, she could never run away, she could never be free. Her father had always been cruel to his wife, but Nesaela had really processed until now that Rhaella was truly trapped.

          They were women, and in Kings Landing, women were wives or whores or daughters, and nothing else. Kings Landing had no room for any women who had dreams.

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          THE DAY THAT Rhaegar had left had seemed a normal day. She'd risen to the morning sun and her handmaidens had brought her breakfast. Tylan had walked with her through the balconies and she'd stitched with the other ladies of the castle. She'd caught little Viserys trying to escape his lessons and had pulled him back by the hand, saying, "Lessons are important, little dragon. Don't you want to be a king someday?" and deposited him back to his teachers.

          Except that when night fell across the sky she found a hand-written note from Rhaegar in her room, telling her to meet her in the castle gardens. That was strange enough in itself, but when she wandered out to the gardens in her nightgown she found Rhaegar pacing back and forth amongst the flowers, a conflicted look on his face.

          Nessie spoke to him as she approached, "Rhaegar. What's the matter?"

          "Nessie," her brother whispered. He clasped her hands in his own and placed a gentle kiss against her hair. She wondered what had happened that warranted such a greeting and a meeting in the castle gardens at night. "I have to leave Kings Landing tonight," Rhaegar whispered, amongst the maze of sunflowers and silverpetals. A wind seemed to blow through the flowers at his words.

          "Why?" Nesaela asked, eyebrows furrowed under the moonbeams. Already, tears were forming in her eyes. He was going to leave her—he was going to leave them there to Aerys, who would hurt them. "Why are you leaving?"

          Her brother brushed the fallen strands of hair out of her face, as gentle as he'd always been. "There are some things which are out of my control, Nessie. I'm in love."

          The second the words left his mouth, Nesaela knew who he was talking about. "Lyanna Stark," Nessie murmured.

          Rhaegar nodded, and a spark lit up in his eyes when he thought about the woman—a spark which looked like a drop of fallen sunfire and Nessie knew was the look of love. "She wishes to leave with me. Tonight. She's betrothed to Robert and father will never let me marry her. You can't tell anyone, Nessie." He spoke in a fever, as if unsure if to be excited, in love, or afraid.

          Nesaela tore herself from his grip, backing away. "Rhaegar, you can't leave us. Father... he's not in a good state. He's mad, Rhaegar, you know he is. You can't leave us here alone."

          Nessie knew the look on Rhaegar's face—it was the familiar look of guilt she recognised from when he was a child, from when he'd smashed their mother's favourite vase or damaged the floor while practicing sword-fighting. He turned his head down. "She's with-child," Rhaegar murmured.

          "What?"

          "The child is mine."

          "Rhaegar!" Nessie hissed in despair. He already had a family—Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon, and his mother and Viserys and her. He couldn't just leave them behind for a new one. "You can't have a child out of wedlock. And you're already married," she cried out.

          "I'll come back for you all. I promise. But right now I have to leave." His face was mournful, as if he regretted having to leave them, but Nessie knew he didn't regret Lyanna.

          "You're being selfish," said Nesaela. She screwed up her face so she wouldn't cry in front of him. "You have duties to your family; to this kingdom."

          "And since when have ever followed your own duties?" Rhaegar shot back, mouth tight.

          The accusation was so absurd that Nessie almost laughed, except her face was red and she was full of anger. "I do follow my duties," Nessie exclaimed, enraged. "I stay indoors and stay quiet; I stopped archery so Father would stop hurting Mother; I play my role as the stupid, submissive princess who can't defend herself against her own father and who's going to die before I see my eighteenth year!" She was yelling now, face red and angry tears in her eyes.

          Rhaegar looked startled. "Nessie, that's not true." He reached for her, trying pull her into a hug.

         "It is, and you know it!" Nesaela shoved him away. "And you're leaving us here to die. You're a fool and a coward. Father's going to kill me or sell me, and he'll kill mother sometime too. You know it's true." He was going to leave them. "I hope you love Lyanna and your new child, I hope you can be a good father and have a family that's perfect." Her face was crumpled into a teary, angry frown.

          Rhaegar reached for her, as if to pull her into a hug. "Nessie, please—"

          She pushed him away again, storming back to the castle walls, blind with tears. "Just get away, go!" Rhaegar didn't follow her as she disappeared from his view into the Red Keep's walls.

          Her face crumpled the moment she reached the stairs. He could go anywhere in the Realms and she was stuck here, never able to leave the only place she'd ever known, or escape the violence of her father. And yet he took Lyanna, instead of saving her. Why couldn't he take me? Why couldn't he take me? Tears ran down her face as she collapsed on the stairs in sobs.

          She cried until her cheeks were puffy and her eyes burned with pain.

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1,759 words

02.02.2019.