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Aemma Baratheon was scared, her hair was a mess and her underdress was stained with blood. She knew the trials and tribulations of childbirth, but in that moment, she was scared, she felt alone, she needed the comfort of her mother.

She'd been labouring for nearly a day and a half with little progress to show for it. It worried the Maesters, it worried Cersei and surprisingly it worried Robert.

Through out the pregnancy, after it was announced to the Realm, Aemma had walked around the city with Rhaenys by her side or on her hip. Aemma wanted Rhaenys to se their capitol without fear, she wanted the people to see Rhaenys, and per Robert's demand, she wanted to stiffle any growing rebellions.

She paced in the birthing chambers, growing restless and tired. There was no explanation for why the labour was taking so long, the babe was in the correct position, even if it wasa moon too early, and Aemma had been doing what the Maesters told her.

"Where-Where is Robert?" Aemma groaned to her Septa, Septa Josie, holding onto her. 

"He's waiting with the Small Council, your Grace." Josie replied, cleaning Aemma's forehead and gently rocking them both.

Another pained groaned escaped Aemma as she felt yet another contraction, she was not yet open enough to push, and it was hurting her.

"You're doing great, my Queen." Pycelle said as he recorded on paper that he was giving Aemma her another cup of milk of the poppy.

"It doesn't feel like it!" Aemma snapped, only to be silenced by her own groan, and a lengthy one at that. As soon as she was able to breathe normally, she grabbed the milk of the poppy and drank it all in one swing.

Despite having attended the births of Rhaenys and Aegon, Cersei wasn't present for Aemma's first birth, although not by her own choice. Aemma had pleaded with Cersei that she stayed with Rhaenys, not wanting the young Princess to hear her aunt's screams and be scared and alone.

As night began to break through out the realm, the Maesters could sigh in relief as labour finally progressed, and all it had taken was 5 cups of milk of the poppy spaced out through out time, the birthing chambers being all but a boiling temperature.

After labour began to progress, Aemma found herself on her hands and knees as her back felt like it was being strabbed into, a position that Maester Pycelle found himself complaining about only to be shut down by Septa Josie, who encouraged Aemma to push only when she absolutely felt the need to.

After nearly two days without any progression, the Gods sure were lenient on Aemma as they allowed the babe to come out quickly. Loud wails were heard and Aemma fell on the bed carefully from exhaustion.

Zaldrīzes Dohaeris (s.u.)Where stories live. Discover now