Some things
Are meant to
happen
But not to last

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

Spring of 100 AC, the Red Keep

It was in the deep night a day after Queen Alyssane's death that Aella realised there was no word to describe what she was. There was a word for someone who lost a husband: a widow, and there was a word for someone who had lost a parent: an orphan. But there was no word for someone who had lost a child. Perhaps it was because the pain was indescribable, like having a gaping hole in your chest that kept on bleeding and bleeding until there was nothing inside of you anymore. She wondered if there was no word for such a thing because people did not wish to remember it, to even acknowledge that it exists.

Aella could understand those people perfectly. Not a moment passed since the second Daella had stopped breathing in her arms that she did not pray to the Seven that her pain would be numbed. Even if it was only by a margin. Even if it was for but a moment.

When she woke in the mornings, there was but a moment when she was about to get up and head to the nursery, only to freeze up when reality came crashing down on her. It was a heavy burden. The knife of a short life was sharp. Sharper than anything she had ever felt. Even when her father had died, Aella had not felt anything quite like what she was feeling now.

How had her grandmother survived it for so long? She had lost so many children in such a short period. Most of them were already older when it happened. She had known them, heard them speak and laugh. The only sounds that Daella had ever produced in her short week of life were cries and wheezes, as if her little lungs were struggling to take in breath from the very moment she was born.

Aella supposed it did not matter anymore. Queen Alyssane was dead, she could not ask her. Her body lay somewhere below the Red Keep, wrapped in cloth just as her little Daella was. They would be burned on a pyre together. King Jaehaerys would give the order. He had offered the honour to Aella, but she did not think she would be able to. The burning of the body was a final goodbye, but she did not wish to say goodbye to either of the dead.

Daella did not have enough time, while Queen Alyssane had lived a long life. Both of their passings were a fresh wound to Aella's already scarred soul.

She supposed she could ask Aemma about it. Her lovely cousin had lost many babes in the past few years. Only little Rhaenyra had lived, a short six months older than Aella's own Aemon was. The two babes often played together in the nursery or in the garden with Aella and Aemma sitting close by. They were each other's only friends, it seemed.

Rhaegon and Viserys spent too much time tending to their duties – though one was far more enthusiastic than the other. They were too caught up in it, and besides, they were men. Even when they did have free time, they spent their time doing other things, even if those things were wildly different from each other. Viserys would drown himself in his books about Old Valyria, most of which were provided by Aella, as she had spent far too much time in the library and prided herself in knowing many of the works. And Rhaegon would pour over old scrolls about law or wield a sword in the training yard with Ser Ryam Redwyne.

Both, of course, made time for their respective wives, but Aella nor Aemma had the nerve to sit around in their chambers all day. And so they would spend time with each other if they could.

Aella wondered where Aemma was now. Perhaps she was still sleeping, first light had barely broken a few minutes ago and heavy grey clouds covered the sky, casting the already pale light into an even grimmer grey. The only reason she was already awake was because of Rhaegon's nightmares. As usual, they had woken him and she had soothed him. But while he fell asleep again, she no longer could. And so she sat at the table in the middle of their chambers, a plate of grapes and sliced oranges she had brought up sitting in front of her.

She had managed to swallow two grapes and three oranges before her stomach churned and she was forced to stop, lest she vomit up the few things she had inside her stomach. A soft breeze blew from the open window, sending the sheer curtains of silk billowing. It brought the stench of Flea Bottom with it, and Aella curled her nose.

If she listened hard enough, she could even hear a babe crying somewhere in the city. Or perhaps she was simply imagining things. The crying grew louder with each passing moment. No, she was definitely imagining things. There was no way the sound of a crying child down in Flea Bottom would reach her chambers with such intensity.

Aella lifted her shaking hands to her ears. Despite the barrier between her ears and the outside world, she could still hear the sound. It resonated in her mind, as if someone had called out into a cave and waited for the echo to return to them. Make it stop, she thought as she slowly pushed herself to stand. Her black and red robe fell open without her arms to hold it around her. The breeze from the window suddenly felt colder than before. Goosebumps rose along her skin. Maybe if she moved around the sound would stop.

The stone floor was cold against her bare feet, the chill seeping into her skin within moments. Still, she did not return to the chair or the bed, pacing in front of the fireplace that bore nothing but cinders and dying embers. They still cast a warm glow over the walls, the faintest of light in the room. Aella focused on it, on the occasional crackle that sounded from it. The hands on her ears were long gone now, instead gripping the fabric of her robe or nightgown, scrunching it up with such fierceness that it would break if it was more solid.

Make it stop. The crying grew louder. Make it stop. She heard it from the wooden door to her left, the one that connected her room and the nursery of her children. No, make it stop. Daella was not in there. Her baby was not in there. She was with the Gods, in the arms of her sweet grandmother if they would allow it. The nursery housed only little Aemon, who was barely aware of anything except the sudden disappearance of his sister and grandmother. He did not know anything, and gods did Aella wish to be like him. She did not wish to remember any of this. It was cruel of the world to let her live while her daughter died. If there was no possible way for Daella to be left in the world, then Aella wished to be torn from it just as she had. Make it stop.

A sudden warm hand on her shoulder caused her body to jerk. "Make what stop?" Rhaegon whispered to her, wiping the last remnants of sleep from his tired eyes. They seemed more indigo than violet in the early morning light. Aella inhaled shakily. Had she been saying it out loud? It was a wonder she had not woken him sooner. It seemed like the wounded look on her face was enough to tell Rhaegon everything, and soon enough his arms had pulled her close to him until her head rested against his chest. It was warm and firm and she could hear his heartbeat beneath the skin of it. It was a soothing rhythm. With all her might, she focused on it. Listened to it until it was the only sound in her mind and the crying was gone. Replaced by the quiet thump of her husband's heart.

"I woke you," Aella muttered the statement with a small wave of guilt. "I am sorry. You are tired enough as it is." Rhaegon grimaced as if his own exhaustion had only now rammed into him with full force. "You should go back to sleep, I will be alright."

He shook his head. "No, it is morning already anyway. We'll have to start preparing for the funeral soon enough." Aella frowned at him, aware that he still needed sleep, but did not argue with him. There was no point, Rhaegon was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be. He would not budge even if she threatened to have him chained to the bed. "Have you decided how you will travel to the pyres?"

Aella nodded, gripping his arm slightly as he led her back to the table she had been sitting at before. When he sat down, he plucked a grape into his mouth. "I will go with Aemma in the litter. The idea of everyone staring at me as I ride through the city on a horse makes me nauseous." She had to swallow to fight off another bilious attack as she thought about it again. The mere thought of the people of King's Landing watching with her indifference, or even worse pity, made her skin crawl.

"I am sure Aemma will enjoy the company. Septa Lyra will look after the children while we are gone." Aella hummed in agreement. The old woman was kind and soft with the children, very unlike most of the septa Aella had met. Most of the were kind in their teaching, but harsher with their punishments. They usually got away with it, seeing as they would claim it was the teachings of the Seven. But Septa Lyra was beloved by both Aemon and Rhaenyra, kind in every way. Aemon could sit with the woman for hours, learning all sorts of things and never growing bored.

"I am sure they will enjoy that." Rhaegon did not answer her, instead picking up another grape from the plate on the table. They fell into a comfortable silence. Comfortable in a way that two people waiting for the funeral of their child could be, anyway. The crying completely left Aella's mind now, leaving her wallowing in the bitter aftertaste of the attack her own mind had orchestrated on her.

The breeze continued to blow through the window, Rhaegon kept on eating and Aella remained lost in her thoughts. Until an all too familiar shriek broke the air above King's Landing. Aella's body tensed at the sound, knowing exactly what it entailed. She already knew what sight would await her when she stood to look from the open window.

The red rippling scales of the Blood Wyrm were a heavy contrast to the greyness of the sky, his lithe body swaying in the way it always did as he flew through the sky. Caraxes circled the city once, twice, and then he dove down towards the Dragonpit in one quick motion of tucked wings and straitened tail.

Aella could only inhale as she prepared herself for the man who rode the crimson dragon. Praying to all the Gods that neither of them would break.