The pain,
it will leave
once it has finished
teaching you

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

It would be a very long night, Aemon realised when the bells of the sept rung midnight further in the city of King's Landing. Even if he himself could get past the nervous ticking of his hands and the anxiousness biting away at his conscious thoughts, he certainly would not be able to get rid of the tight grip Rhaenyra had on his hand as she sat in utter silence and stillness on the large lounging chair. He wouldn't be able to leave his sister alone either, and Visenys had long proven she would not sleep until she was sure their mother was alright and well.

They were too far away from their mother's chambers to be able to hear any screaming or crying, but the sounds his mother released when she birthed a child were embedded into Aemon's mind since he had heard them the day of Viserra's birth. He was glad that Visenys hadn't chosen to sit down closer to their mother's chambers. It was not a pleasant thing to hear.

Instead, she had chosen to go to her own room and sat on soft rug on the floor. She had released her hair at some point and it flowed long and impeccably straight down her back. She had not spoken in hours. Aemon could not blame her. She was old enough now to understand the perils of childbirth and with the death of their aunt a day before and her funeral just that morning, it was reality that loomed over the entirety of the Red Keep like a black shadow.

No one wanted Princess Aella to meet the same fate as the Queen had. His mother was known as kind, gentle and charitable, if not a little melancholy at times. She smiled at all the servants and thanked them for every little thing, and Aemon did not think he had ever heard her raise her voice at anyone in his life. She did know how to stand her ground in things at times, but it seemed that she did not care about most things that happened.

Rhaenyra had joined them in Visenys' room an hour ago, hair ruffled from tossing around in her bed, a nightgown and a robe hung loosely around her body. Her eyes looked so sad and mournful. Aemon had thought he could write poems about it. About her.

"I could not sleep." 

"That's alright. Come, sit." And she had, pushing her legs beneath the soft fur blanket that Aemon had covering his own lower half and gripping his hand like it was the only real anchor she had. 

The wait was becoming tedious, but it had only been a few hours. Aemon was well aware that childbirth could take days in some instances, and his mother's water had not even broken when she had been shuffled into her chambers by her servants and the midwives sent for. He looked out of the window, taking into account every flickering light he could see down in the city. There were many, the city never quite sleeping. He thought he could make out the lights of the Street of Silk in the distance. That was a part of the city that never slept. Aemon had never gone, a bit too afraid of his father's disapproval. 

There were many things his father would learn to accept. Whoring was not one of them.

There was a sudden knock on the door, and everyone in the room jerked as they were torn from their silence. Aemon suddenly felt like he could not breath. He shuffled out from beneath the blanket, squeezed Rhaenyra's hand before he let go of it, and took four careful, but decisive steps towards the door. 

The handle was cold beneath his palm as he pulled on it. There was a servant standing on the other side, her eyes wide and her skin pale and clammy. It felt as though the cold blade of a dagger had been slowly dragged down his spine. The woman appeared frightened, terrified, as if she had seen something that she would never forget.

"Is my mother alright?" Aemon clamoured before the woman could even open her mouth. Her eyes widened by another fraction. Behind him, he heard Visenys standing up from the floor and Rhaenyra sitting up straighter.

"I- I don't know, my Prince," the servant fumbled with her words. "Forgive me, I have not been sent with news. It's just that-"

"Just that what?" Perhaps he was being a little harsh, but he did not have the capacity at that moment to deal with whatever trivial manner the woman had brought before him. The woman clamped her mouth shut for a moment, then shook her head as if she were trying to chase away the nervousness.

"Princess Viserra's egg has started hatching, my Prince." It was Aemon's turn to widen his eyes. "Prince Rhaegon is in Princess Aella's chambers and will not leave her side, the King is to not be disturbed and we could not find Prince Daemon in the castle-"

Aemon was rushing down the hall before she could finish. His youngest sister's nursery was closer to his mother's chambers, and as he drew closer he began to hear her shouts of pain. He flinched at the sound, but pushed forward faster. The hatching of a dragon was a rare enough thing, he himself had not hatched a dragon, neither had most Targaryens that he had read about. Even the Conqueror himself had had to claim a dragon already grown.

There was a Kingsguard knight standing at his sister's door, his back straight and eyes set forward like an unmoving statue. Behind him, Aemon's own Kingsguard was following behind him, alongside Visenys and surprisingly even Rhaenyra. Aemon had thought she would stay behind, and he would not have blamed her.

"Have you sent for the Dragonkeepers?" Aemon questioned the knight already standing at the nursery door. The man nodded swiftly and Aemon pushed past him into the nursery without another word. Good, he had no idea what he was doing. What if the dragon hatched hurt? What if it needed to be tended to?

When he entered the room, he was stopped by the loud and excited giggle of little Viserra in her crib. He was as still as a statue for a long moment as he simply stared at the crib where his sister was sat upright. Her face was bright, eyes twinkling with such awe. And before her, a pale yellow hatchling slithered across the bedding. 

It had already hatched, Aemon realised as his jaw grew slack. And Viserra had already bonded with it. Envy overshadowed the surprise and awe of the moment for a few short seconds before he pushed it down and away like he did every time he felt it, locking it away in the box hidden far away in his mind.

"By the Gods," Visenys breathed from beside him. Aemon had not even realised she and Rhaenyra had caught up. Rhaenyra's warm hand enveloped his own again, as if she sensed that he too needed comfort now. He did not want to be jealous of his two year old sister, but the hurt little child in him that screamed it's not fair was far stronger than his own will.

"It's beautiful," Rhaenyra muttered. And Gods, it was. 

°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°

The birth was done when the first light of day shone upon King's Landing. Rhaegon sat by Aella's bed, watching as his wife – curled up on her side and breathing in laboured puffs of air – wiped away the last of her tears. The bloody sheets had been cleaned away, Aella herself cleaned and put into a fresh nightgown.

It had been twins. But only one of them had lived. 

Rhaegon looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms. Silver tuffs of hair showed from beneath the swaddling, and Rhaegon distinctly remember the vivid blue eyes staring up at him when his son was first placed in his arms. The room was silent now, free of all servants and midwives. The Grand Maester had not been allowed in, as had been Aella's wish.

He could not help but wonder if Grand Maester Mellos would have been able to save the second child, a beautiful little girl, had he been there. No, he told himself repeatedly. His daughter had suffocated before she was even born, strangled by the umbilical cord while still in the womb. She had not lived a single second after birth.

It felt like an eternity before Aella began to uncurl herself from her position. Her skin was almost pearlescent, paler than it usually was and only accentuated by the bleak morning light. Another child that has died. He knew that it took more of a toll on her than it did him. She carried them inside of herself, harboured them like the biggest treasure there was. And in the end, after hours of agony, all she had to show for it was a corpse. Not this time, Rhaegon thought, this time there is more. But he knew that wasn't how it worked. One child would never fill the hole another left behind.

"I do not know what to name him," Aella eventually croaked out. Her voice sounded like the scraping of gravel on gravel. "I had only thought of names for a girl." That was like a knife to the heart. Rhaegon felt his throat close up for a moment and he had to blink away the tears that threatened to gather in his eyes. He would not cry. Not now. There was not room for his grief at the moment. All that mattered was to help Aella in the best ways he could.

"What had you chosen?" he asked, though that seemed like the very opposite of his goal. It would only open the already gaping wound of a dead daughter. Aella's eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she inhaled deeply.

Then, almost wistfully, she said, "Rhaenys, or if Aemma's child had been a boy, Visenya." Aemma's child had been a boy, but even Rhaegon knew that the name Visenya was one that Rhaenyra had wanted for her sister. "I would have probably chosen Rhaenys in the end though. After my sister." He did not need context for the name, he was well aware of Aella's reasoning behind it. He would no interrupt her though.

"We could think of a name for our son that commemorates your sister as well, if you want." Aella shook her head, pushing herself up from her position laying down on the bed so she could slump back into the pillows. She stared emptily at the sleeping child in Rhaegon's arms for a moment. She looked almost like a corpse, but then as if the life had been breathed back into her she reached her arms out. Rhaegon carefully put the child into her arms. She drew the bundle close to her breast.

"It was meant for his sister," she explained, then sighed heavily. It was not a dreamy sigh, but one that held so much sadness. So much exhaustion. "Aeron, maybe. It's the first thing that comes to mind." After a moment of thought, Rhaegon nodded. It was a good name, one that did not have any precedent in their family. 

"Alright." He leaned back in the chair that had been brought to Aella's bedside for him hours before. He had not left her side once. There was only silence for what could have been minutes, or maybe hours. Rhaegon did not know. He could not bring himself to pay attention to any details right now. 

Another of his children was dead. It was a common enough thing. Such suffering was as cheap as clay as even more common. And yet, Rhaegon could not find it in himself to just accept that. How could he? If he did, he would be scared of his own mind. At least you have not lost as many as Viserys. The stray intruding thought prodded at something inside of him and it hurt. He squashed that thought before it could take root any further.

It was not right to measure their pain against each other. Each had lost children and it was a painful, horrible thing that ate away at their minds, their hearts, their souls. It never quite went away, that pain, even when it dulled like a blade.

"Rhaegon," Aella spoke up eventually. He looked at her carefully, letting out a quiet hum. "No more losses," she said, voice quivering but filled with determination. Rhaegon nodded, because that was all he could do.

"No more losses," he agreed, gritting his teeth against the thoughts that told him it was a promise he could not make. "We will leave for Dragonstone as soon as you are able. I will handle everything with Daemon."

"Thank you." Aella shifted slightly in the bed, propping Aeron up in her arms in a slightly better position.

The only thing that repeated itself in his mind for the remainder of the day was, no more losses.

No more losses.

No more losses.

No more losses.