The Forgotten Visenya (HOTD)(GOT)(Cregan Stark)

From Death there is Life

The royal bathing chambers were a sanctuary of warmth and flickering candlelight, the scent of lavender mingling with the steam that rose from the bath. Queen Aemma Arryn, her swollen belly rising above the water, sighed as she leaned back, her eyes closing against the weight of her latest pregnancy. The warm water, though tepid by her husband's standards, was the only comfort she could find in these days of constant discomfort.

The heavy oak door creaked open, and King Viserys I Targaryen entered, his expression softening as he saw his wife. He approached the bath, dipping his hand into the water.

"You spend more time in that bath than I do on the throne," he teased, though the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

"This is the only place I can find comfort these days," Aemma replied, her voice weary yet laced with affection.

Viserys sat beside the bath, tracing the outline of her hand with his fingers. "It's tepid," he noted, frowning.

"It's as warm as the maesters will allow," she sighed. "After this miserable pregnancy, I wouldn't be surprised if I hatched an actual dragon."

Viserys chuckled, though his mind was elsewhere. "Then he will be loved and cherished."

Aemma smiled faintly, but the lines of worry around her eyes deepened. "Rhaenyra has already declared that she is to have a sister," she said, her tone light despite the heaviness in her heart.

"Really?" Viserys raised an eyebrow, amused.

"She even named her. Visenya. She chose a dragon's egg for the cradle that she said reminded her of Vhagar."

"Gods be good," Viserys muttered, shaking his head. "This family already has its Visenya."

Aemma's smile faded as she looked up at her husband, her voice tinged with worry. "Has there been any word from your dear brother?"

"Not since I named him Commander of the City Watch," Viserys replied, his tone growing colder.

 "I'm sure he will reemerge for the tourney. He could never stay away from the lists."

"The tourney to celebrate the firstborn son that we presently do not have," Aemma murmured, her voice softening. "You do understand nothing will cause the babe to grow a cock if it does not already possess one?"

"This child is a boy, Aemma," Viserys insisted, his voice firm, as if saying it would make it true. She scoffed, her weariness overcoming her hope.

"I'm certain of it. I've never been more certain of anything. The dream. It was clearer than a memory. Our son was born wearing Aegon's iron crown. When I heard the sound of thundering hooves, splintering shields, and ringing swords, I placed our son upon the Iron Throne as the bells of the Grand Sept tolled, and all the dragons roared as one."

Aemma's eyes filled with tears as she leaned her head back against the bath's edge. "Born wearing a crown? Gods spare me... birth is unpleasant enough as it is."