wine red, tears gold - aegon II targaryen

chapter 6.

Alicent had thought she saw the last of death for a while. She had seen her grandson killed before her very eyes, seen her daughter's skewered body upon the ground, a grisly tale of her son skewered through his eye, her other son burnt and suffocated.

She had seen enough death for a lifetime and then some.

When she had been awoken in the wee hours of the morn, it was still dark outside. Her handmaiden roused her from sleep with a panicked plea— the queen was in her labors.

Labors? Lyanna wasn't pregnant, was she? Surely Alicent would've noticed, as they spent every morning together since the girl's arrival over half a year ago.

She slipped on a housecoat and was escorted to the maester's offices, where the robed man swept her aside immediately.

"What is going on? Her grace cannot be pregnant, surely?" Alicent questioned, eyes narrowed. She didn't dare look over at the pale figure in the cot, knowing it to be Lyanna. She wasn't ready yet to see such pain once more.

"The Queen is... was... roughly five moons along," he explained softly, "Her chamber maids found her semi-conscious in a pool of her own blood, the room a mess— she... is fighting, surely. But the babe won't be viable."

Alicent blinked profusely, searching the healer's face for any sign of a farce. "You say she was pregnant?"

"A matter of speaking, your grace. She is... laboring as we speak. The babe is stuck, however— at an odd angle."

"... what does that mean for Lyanna?" she asked, leaning forward. Alicent knew what it meant, of course— death was in the room with them, waiting.

The maester gave the queen mother a hard look and shook his head. "Keep her in your prayers. The King... should be notified."

—

Alicent sat by Lyanna's bed, hand in bloody hand with her. The poor girl's beautiful face was so pale, the blue veins in her half-drawn eyelids were visible.

The labors weren't much of a ruckus as they usually would be— Lyanna was severely numbed by milk of the poppy, and the maesters pulled out the babe. Alicent caught sight of it— its skin was gray and scaly, with a ridged tail and little budding horns, as well as a pair of perfectly miniature wings. It didn't breathe, nor cry.

"A son, your grace," the maester announced solemnly.

The sight made Alicent want to vomit, but she swallowed it back, focusing on Lyanna. "You did so well, my love," she cooed, dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth, "You did so well."

"See... may I... see the... the babe?" Lyanna asked, her voice so quiet that only Alicent could hear.

Alicent's heart clenched, brow furrowed. "Not yet, sweetling. They're wiping him off now. Do you have a name in mind for him?"

"Aeron," Lyanna breathed, "For... Aemond... and Daeron..."

A tear rolled down Alicent's face as she leaned close to Lyanna, pressing their foreheads together. "Oh, my sweet girl," she whispered, "My sweet, sweet girl. You're the purest of us all, my love." she cried fully now, eyes closed. She cared so deeply for the Queen, as if she were her own, or mayhaps more, and seeing the girl in pain agonized Alicent.

Alicent Hightower wept for Lyanna, Aemond, Daeron, and Aeron.

—

Aegon did not arrive until hours later, after he'd been found. He bursted into the room like an ignited dragon. "Where's my wife? My son?" he demanded. Otto followed behind him.