Aella Targaryen wed on the anniversary of her father's death. To her cousin, nonetheless, continuing the long-standing tradition of her family to marry their relatives. It was a day that was meant to bring joy and overshadow the sorrow that had purs...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Your heart will break and trust that you will survive
– Bridgett Devoue
°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°
Rhaegon received a summon from his brother mere hours after the death of his youngest daughter. He was exhausted, empty, and yet somehow alive with treacherous emotion. He wished nothing more than to sleep through the day and hope that when he woke up, he would find that everything that had happened was merely a nightmare.
But not even a few days were gifted to him to grieve and so he left his wife and children with a heavy heart. He felt like a ghost walking down the halls. He barely noticed it when members of the court bowed to him and offered their condolences. He only knew that he nodded his thanks and continued towards the council room where Viserys was waiting for him.
When he arrived, every member of the council except for the King stood to greet him. Only Daemon was missing in attendance. It was something Rhaegon had expected, but he had hoped that he would have been there. He sat down in the chair beside Otto as he usually did, feeling heavier than a ship's anchor. The room sat in silence for a long while. No one knew how to start. Rhaegon would have laughed had he not felt like a knife was twisting in his belly. They had called him here. The least they could do was get it over with quickly.
"You called for me, your Grace?" he half sneered, not pulling his eyes from the table. Viserys did not deserve his full attention. Not now, anyway. He knew what it was like to lose a child. He had experienced it many times. Little Baelon had died not even two days prior alongside Aemma. He could not escape his duty as the King, but Rhaegon had no official role in the council. What was the point in calling him here? It wasn't like anyone ever listen to his suggestions anyway.
Someone shifted in discomfort on the other side of the table. Probably Lord Beesbury, the old man always wore his emotions on his sleeve. Someone else cleared their throat and Rhaegon thought they were finally going to speak, but in the end, the room fell silent once more. Maybe he should just stand up and leave. Aella needed him far more urgently than the council did. He had at least left her with Rhaenys. She was in good hands, but how long could Rhaenys handle Aella's melancholy, Aemon's grimness, and Visenys' sorrowful confusion? Rhaegon was used to dealing with his wife and children's emotions in times of mourning, but even now it felt a bit too much for him.
It had been a long time since one of his children died. The miscarried babe had been the last one to do so before the current tragedy. That was almost twelve years of joy and happiness. His son was older now and Visenys had come to the age where she began to understand death but still did not quite accept it. It was difficult to comfort them when he himself was crumbling. And the years had dulled Aella's memory of the immediate loss. Now it hit her like a tidal wave and forced her to the lowest point where someone could be.
