Time passes in a vacuum, the tournament was stopped abruptly. King Viserys sits beside his queen's birthing bed, which is empty but for the bloody bedding left behind. It looks as if someone were slaughtered in the white sheets.
Rhaenyra arrives in the doorway, but she does not cross the threshold. She refuses to come inside, but sees Alicent crying profusely at the entrance, they both held each other's gaze.
"I'm sorry princess." Alicent mutters her condolences.
Rheanyra ignores her and gently approaches her mother's door, entering she sees her Daenerys by their father, consoling their father as they both weep, his head buried in his hands, whimpering and shedding tears. It seems Viserys is merely a shadow of himself as an extension of Aemma died within him,
The King sits in his chair in a black fog, either unaware of twins presence.
Rheanyra sighs, pulls herself out of the room, running past the doorway, then flees, crying as Alicent runs after her.
When Rheanyra is gone, the Grand Maester enters with the King's new born son, the child was still breathing and wailing softly, but as Mellos approaches the King, the infant, began choking.
Daenerys goes to collect the her brother from the Grand Maester whimpering sniffing looking down at the fine babe who instantly gave up the ghost in thin air.
"Baelon?"
"Baelon?"
"Baelon?" Daenerys gently shook the baby, but nothing is heard. "He- he's dead..... Maester Mellos?" she turns to the old man to do something.
Devasted, the Grand Maester lowers his head. "I'm so sorry Your Grace."
Daenerys blinks and stared down at the dead child in her arms before looking back at her father with glassy eyes, Baelon was suppose to live, she dreamt it all, the dream was clearer than a memory, but not the deaths of her mother and brother.
•••••••••
Approximately a week, the morning sun rises over Rhaenys' Hill. The Bells of the Grand Sept ring out in mourning.
Drogon and Syrax, stands at the peak of the hill, attended by five dragon keepers: five Elders, five Acolytes. The growls rumbled like thunder, she purrs in agony, feeling her riders grief.
Outside the city walls beside the Black Water Rush, A throng of hundreds of lords and ladys have gathered on the mound, all of them dressed in mourning, paying their last respect to Queen Aemma of House Arryn and her dead son, Prince Baelon the Second.
The king's small council stands at the front of the crowd. The lords and ladies of all the houses who were in King's Landing for Viserys' great tournament attend, including Velaryon, Arryn, Hightower, Baratheon, Strong, Lannisters, Darklyn, Beesbury and the households of the Martells were in attendance.
All stood in black, silently as the wind whipped around them, waves crashing against the shores. Rheanyra and Daenerys held each other's hands crying as they stares at their mother and brothers corpses, waiting to be burned.
Baby Baelon is cremated along with Queen Aemma's body and laid upon the stone. On a smaller, adjacent bier lies a second, tiny funeral shroud that is so small that it could be easily missed. Their corpses wrapped in a white shroud of separate bundles, doused in flammable material, on a funeral pyre.
As per Targaryen custom, it is mandatory to burn their dead. The dead is burned by dragon fire and their ashes in interred deep beneath the Red Keep in their crept.
The small council stands in support of the king, and all seven knights of the Kingsguard along with scores of knights and men-at-arms in service to House Targaryen.
YOU ARE READING
Of Bastards & Dragons || Aenar Targaryen
خيال (فانتازيا)"F-fuck." Alicent's shudders bitting her lips as his girth shifts her womb. "Argh!..." Aenar groans into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire, fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his stee...
