『 : ̗̀➛Two parts of a whole, destined to find their second half, and when the sun finally sets on them, the last ember of hope glows in their eyes. ☄. *. ⋆ 』
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Even after she woke up, she had no concept of reality. There was a roof above her head; that much was clear since there was a faint glow of sunlight filtering through the cracks.
Was she dead? Where was she?
There was a faint sound of a babe crying somewhere. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy and unresponsive. Her eyes seemed to weigh a tonne as she struggled to hold them open. She felt just like she did after birthing Rhaegon—feverish.
The first sound that came from her mouth was a whimper, which was soon followed by a cough. It was a raspy, dry cough that made her throat hurt even more than before. Somehow she managed to roll over and prop up onto her elbows to look around herself.
"Muña."
Baelor.
He rushed to her side, making her lay back down. She gladly accepted his help, finding comfort in his presence. "What's wrong with me?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper. He leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"You are safe now, mother," he said softly. "We will take care of you."
"Daemon..." she whispered, her eyes searching for her other husband. Her lips trembled as she found no sign of him.
"Hush, he took Visenya and Maekar hunting," Baelor assured her. He gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. "They will be back soon; don't worry." He reached for the waterskin that lay on the floor beside her and helped her take a sip of water. "Just rest now, mother," he whispered.
She didn't need to be told twice; her eyes slowly closed as she drifted off to sleep, comforted by her son's presence. Baelor sat by her side, keeping watch over her until Daemon would return. Aemma and Tristan were playing quietly in the corner of the tent, under the shade of the fabric stretched over their heads.
Tristan was fussy. With no wet nurses, he was starved. He refused to eat anything Daemon offered him. Aemma was less of a problem. She ate both solid food and drank water without complaint.
A sudden roar was heard overhead, and the familiar three dragons made a few circles above the tent before gracefully landing on the outskirts of the camp. Daemon picked up the sheep that Caraxes had dropped from his jaws and carried it towards the tent, a satisfied grin on his face.
Visenya and Maekar also jumped off their saddles, laughing about something as they made their way towards Baelor.
"Baelor, you make the fire!" Visenya called out, tossing him a bundle of sticks. Baelor rolled his eyes but obliged, knowing it was futile to argue with his sister when she was in such high spirits.
