Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 76

Aenyra

Aenyra settled onto the couch, careful not to disturb Aemon as he slept. The warmth of her son against her chest brought her a fleeting sense of peace, even as her heart wrestled with the storm inside her. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, each one a quiet confession of her struggles as she cradled the fragile new life in her arms.

After a moment she shifted him gently to her shoulder, patting his back until a tiny burp escaped. A faint smile broke through her haze as she nestled him once more in the crook of her arm, watching the steady rhythm of his breath, his small belly rising and falling with each inhale.

"This should be one of the happiest days of my life," she whispered to herself. The words carried a sorrow that clashed with the joy of motherhood, the joy that should have lifted her but instead felt weighed down by shadows. The day had slipped past in a blur, marked not only by Aemon's arrival but by the grim tidings that lingered like gathering storm clouds.

The memory of Princess Rhaenys's fate struck her again, a wound that refused to close. The news had come through Rhaenyra to Daemon, and then to Corlys, spreading through them like fire through dry grass. Baela's absence deepened the ache, leaving a hollow space at the very center of their grief.

The loss of Rhaenys pressed heavily upon Aenyra's heart, amplifying her loneliness. Rhaenyra had noticed her frailty, and in her compassion asked Helaena to remain close, knowing how fragile joy can feel when it is wrapped in sorrow.

Even before Aemon's birth, despair had begun to seep into Aenyra's spirit. She longed for Aemond with every heartbeat, her joy at their child's arrival shadowed by the ache of his absence. The mingling of joy and grief left her untethered, as though the world she had once known had shifted beneath her feet.

"Aenyra." Helaena's voice broke gently into her thoughts, rich with concern.

Aenyra did not answer right away, caught in the fog of memory. Helaena, sensing her struggle, kept her hands busy with a pair of tiny booties she had been stitching for her new nephew.

At last, Aenyra's voice returned, soft and trembling.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" she murmured, brushing her fingers through the downy strands of Aemon's hair. More tears threatened, gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"Yes. He truly is," Helaena replied, setting her sewing aside and shifting to face her fully. "I cannot imagine the pain you carry right now." Her words were quiet, but her gaze was steady, offering the kind of presence that needed no embellishment.

Aenyra drew a shaky breath, then carefully placed Aemon into the bassinet beside her. "It is so bittersweet," she said softly. "Rhaenys will never hold him, never see him grow." She reached down and traced the delicate curve of her son's cheek with her fingertips, the tender motion stirring memories of when he had been safe inside her.

Helaena's heart ached for her friend, watching the cracks show in Aenyra's usual fortitude. "I wish I had the right words to ease your pain," she whispered, her voice trembling with sincerity. "Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

Aenyra's attempt at a smile flickered and vanished, the weight of her grief smothering any chance of comfort. "Thank you, Helaena. It just hurts so much." She brushed away a stray tear, feeling laid bare yet grateful for the quiet strength beside her.

Inside, she felt herself breaking apart. The sting of Rhaenys's sudden death bled into the fragile joy of Aemon's newness, and Aemond's absence stretched the wound even wider. With every beat of her heart, every soft rise and fall of Aemon's chest, she wrestled with the unbearable clash of emotions—the tender ache of love colliding with the raw, jagged edges of grief. Her world, once vivid with certainty, now seemed like a fragile tapestry unraveling thread by thread in her hands.