The Song of Ice and Fire

A Son For A Son

18+ content (sexual content, vulgar words)

You could hear the sound of blood trickling onto the floor, that was the only sound you could hear in the muffled head of Laenys, besides the morbid thoughts in her head about ways to murder her husband. She imagined placing his severed head on a spike and parading it around King's Landing for all to see.

Maybe she'd skin him alive or rip his heart from his ribs like he did hers.

Aemond Targaryen has murdered her nephew, Lucerys. Whom she loved dearly, like he was a son to her. Now he has been slaughtered by his own uncle.

The piece of parchment that a raven had flown in settled against her fingertips as she read the words over and over. Like she was searching for a hint of sarcasm in the written words: "Prince Lucerys Velaryon has been slain by his uncle Prince Aemond Targaryen. The remaining pieces of him were last seen crashing against the waves of Storm's End."

The thought of her dear boy filled her mind, and she could almost feel his fear, his heart racing as he fought his way back home. The image brought a surge of raw emotion, an overwhelming mix of worry and anger coursing through her veins. Laenys gripped the edge of the desk she was leaning against, her fingers curling into fists. The urge to lash out, to pick up the heavy desk and hurl it against the unyielding stone walls, threatened to consume her.

After receiving the news, her parents, Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, swiftly departed. Rhaenys took to patrolling the Gullet atop Meleys, while Lord Corlys busied himself with writing letters to rally his loyal men in the Stepstones. Their absence left the chamber occupied only by Ser Baelon, Arya, Maester Kevlyn, and the newborn Visenya.

A wave of grief swelled within Laenys, she felt a mixture of rage, guilt, betrayal, and more rage. Mostly she just felt... rage. Not only did her husband who swore to the Conqueror he would remain steadfast and loyal towards her abandon her in her moment of need, but he had also murdered one of the only pure things in this world.

The air still carried the familiar scent of blood and sweat, lingering from Laenys's recent labor. The cries of her newborn daughter echoed off the walls, a sharp contrast to the silence of the room. Maester Kevlyn gently cleaned the baby with a rag, now stained red, atop the sheets of the bed. Arya stood beside them, her eyes fixed on Laenys, who was beginning to crumble within. Every pure thing in her soul now seemed to be reduced to ash.

She felt almost compelled to try and convince her to lie down so she could give birth to the afterbirth. However, she feared that if she said a single thing to the princess, her body would be strung up by a rope. So, she remained silent as a mouse.

Ser Baelon held the freshly written letter in his hands, the words declaring that King's Landing had only a single day to prepare for the inevitable war. Shock was etched across his face as he clenched his jaw tightly. As her sworn protector, he couldn't voice his opinion; his duty was to carry out the princess's wishes, no matter the cost.

"I will deliver the message, Princess," Ser Baelon said, turning on his heel to leave the room. The sound of his armor clinking echoed briefly, then faded, leaving the room in silence. Visenya, Laenys' only child, was being gently wrapped in a red silk cloth, her cries quieted as she drifted off to sleep. Arya glanced at the slumbering infant before turning her gaze back to Laenys, her eyes filled with concern and unspoken questions.

"Would you like to hold Visenya, my Lady Hand?" Arya asked gently, her voice carrying a soft and welcoming tone. However, her question seemed to go unnoticed as Laenys remained fixated on the wooden desk before her. Like a statue frozen in time, she appeared trapped in a singular emotion, her expression unchanging.