The Dragon Of Harrenhal - H.S.

Glory and honor

Daella had been hearing the whispers around the castle ever since she was a child. Every Time her mother became with child - which had been about seven times after she had been born - the same words were whispered among the castle walls. I hope this one sticks, they would say. For the sake of the queen, I pray she gives the king a boy, a proper heir, they would whisper. Gods have mercy on her grace and give her a healthy boy; may this one be a blessed pregnancy. They all talked about queen Aemma as if she was fragile whenever she was pregnant. And in a way, maybe she was. But Daella hated the way they spoke anyway.

She hated the way they spoke of the babe and prayed for a boy and yet, so few of them actually worried about the queen. She hated it even more than the whispers she would hear about herself whenever her mother was pregnant again. Her name was cursed, they would say. Daella Targaryen, she was named, after her mother's mother who died of childbed fever after giving her husband a single daughter: Aemma. Pray she has a better fate than her namesake, the maids and servants would say as she passed by, their eyes downcast but full of pity. Pray she has a better fate than her mother.

They spoke of it as if it was her fate - to die at childbirth. They spoke of it as if it was Aemma's fate, as it had been her mother's before her. She hated it. She hated it because her mother was still alive and well, even after enduring so much pain and loss. She was alive and well and with child again and, this time, Daella knew, it would work.

"Mother." Daella called as she stepped inside her mother's chambers that afternoon.

At the sound of her voice, Aemma lifted her head and smiled. From her place at the bed by the window where she laid sprawled out with her feet propped up, a fan in her hand and about three maids tending to her needs, she waved her daughter forward. Leaving her guards by the door, Daella walked into the chambers, heading straight toward her mother and offering her a kiss on the cheek before sitting down on a cushion, placed beside the queen's bed by one of her maids.

"Are you well, mother?" She asked, to which Aemma nodded.

"I am, child."

"Did you sleep?"

"I slept."

"How long?"

"I don't need mothering, Daella." Aemma chastised gently, to which the girl frowned.

"I worry, mother." She said, causing Aemma to soften.

"Do they still speak of it?" She asked. Daella sighed, looking away from her mother and out the window as she chose her next words carefully.

"They never stop, mother." She shrugged. "The whispers just grow louder whenever you carry another babe."

"They don't know what they are saying, Daella." Aemma tried to reassure, as Daella just scoffed.

"Do they not?" She asked.

"A name does not carry that much power, my sweetling." Aemma shook her head. "What happened to my mother was a tragedy."

"And what of what happens to you?" Daella asked, a pout forming on her lips that made Aemma laugh.

Her sweet girl, fourteen now and yet, still so much resemblance to that little babbling babe she used to be. Aemma loved her. Fiercely. And she wished she could do more to stop her daughter from worrying.

"I do what I have to do." Aemma said. "And you will lay in this bed soon enough, Daella. This discomfort is how we serve the realm."

"I much rather we served the realm another way." Daella scoffed. Aemma laughed.

"We have royal wombs, you and I." She said. "The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip."

"It scares me, mother." Daella admitted, her voice weak and low as if unsure if she was even allowed to say such a thing.

Was a Targaryen allowed to be scared? She did not know. But she felt it regardless.

"It scares us all, my sweetling." Aemma whispered back, poking her daughter's leg with her foot so she would look up from her lap and back at her again. "But when we win our battle, our prize is much better than any honor and glory a knight could have."

"What prize?" Daella asked.

"You." Aemma smiled when Daella sighed. "Rhaenyra. This babe. You are my prizes. My honor. My glory."

"Mother..."

"And once you win your battles, you shall understand what I mean."