Mothers

The bells tolled for the dead.

The sound echoed across the city like the whispers of the Stranger himself. For two days now, the bells had rung without pause, uniting the people of King's Landing in grief.

Queen Aemma was gone, taken in childbirth, and with her, the newborn prince, Baelon, whose life ended before it even began.

Aerion stood by the narrow window of his chamber, eyes on the glittering water of Blackwater Bay. The tournament felt like a distant memory already, overshadowed by the weight of mourning that hung over the city.

The Brackens, like many other lords and their retinues, were meant to depart today. But their stay had been extended for the funeral. Only the highest lords, the king's closest advisors, and the Targaryens would attend. 

Aerion wasn't among them of course, not that he felt any bitterness over it. He hadn't known the Queen or her son. Yet still, there was a knot of guilt in his chest—a strange weight he couldn't explain.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. The last few nights had been…restless. He hadn't slept for more than a few hours at a time, his dreams more vivid and unsettling than ever.

It was as though the Queen's passing had stirred something within him. Were the dreams connected to her? To her death? He didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't shake them.

Warnings, maybe? He thought back to the tourney, the fleeting moment when he'd heard the scream of a woman in his mind. Was it Queen Aemma?

Was there something he was meant to see, something he could have done?

But what could he have done? He was no maester. He sighed again, catching his reflection in the window. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, his skin paler than it should be. The lack of sleep was wearing him down.

He dropped back onto his bed, hoping to get a few hours rest. 

—-

He woke, his mind racing as he gasped for air. His panic, shock and fear all melted away as he noticed where he was. 

He sighed deeply, trying to quell the rising frustration, his heart still beating rapidly as sweat dripped down his brow, he stood. His eyes flicked to the nearby window only for Aerion to freeze.

He blinked, his eyes on the position of the sun, it had not even been an hour.

His body had not allowed him even an hours rest.

His frustration boiled over, his hands mindlessly grabbing a wooden cup left on a desk. He threw the cup at the stone wall with a crack.

His fists clenched, his hands trembling as the shattered pieces of the cup dropped to the floor.

His breathing now more intense than when he initially woke, he gripped onto his hair tightly and pulled. The frustration almost brought tears to his eyes as he snarled. 

Again and again! He can't sleep! He—he kicked the remains of the cup, the shattered wood crashing into the walls of the chambers, bouncing around the floor.

He smashed his open palm against a nearby wall, his frustration not at all sated. Even as pain ran through his forearm. 

—-

He sat in the roots of the weirwood, usually he would kneel, pay his proper respect with a straight back but now…now he was too tired. 

He leaned his head back against the rough pale bark, closing his eyes as he hoped, prayed for an answer, a solution to his problem.

"I can't sleep," he whispered, his tone cracking as he clenched his jaw tightly. "let me rest" this time desperation filled his tone. 

Then silence, suffocating awful silence that made him want to burn this accursed tree to its roots. 

The clinking of armour interrupted his blasphemous thoughts, his eyes locking onto the form of Princess Rhaenyra, her Kingsguard following at a respectable distance. 

"Princess" he said warily as he bowed his head deeply from his spot among the roots. She didn't look surprised, she just looked…bitter. 

She didn't acknowledge him as she walked over, a few metres away to his left and settled among the roots herself, forcefully opening a large book, quickly flicking to a page. 

He slowly turned his head back to looking straight on, still seeing her from the corner of his vision as he tried to remain as silent as possible.

He needed to leave, he didn't need a grief filled Princess anywhere near him right now. But he also didn't want to leave as soon as she arrived, that would certainly be seen as rude.

A moment of very charged silence passed and he decided to just leave regardless, he shifted slightly the sound almost deafening.

"Have you got a mother?" Her voice startled him enough to make him snap his head in her direction, her fingers gently tapping against the pages of the book in her lap. Her head down, her jaw clearly clenched.

"I have" he said slowly, but he knew that wasn't what she was really asking "She's…dead now" he admitted slowly, he hadn't thought much about his mother if he was honest.

For him she's always been dead, that's just how it was and how it will be.

"How?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone almost accusatory, he hesitated before speaking, knowing this was a…volatile situation.

"In the birthing bed" he said slowly, his eyes still fixed on her, noticing her fingers freezing. A long silence reigned after his words, Aerion uncomfortably tugging at the collar of his black tunic. 

"She was…sickly, her whole life" he added on, feeling the need to break the silence as his gaze dropped from her and went back to facing straight forward. 

The words only seemed to make the silence heavier, he wished he hadn't spoken at all. 

"My mother's the same" she said shakily, his eyes widening at the response. Aerions eyes flicked to the Princess, not sure how to respond.

"I'm…sorry Princess" he said awkwardly, feeling the weight of the ensuing silence pressing heavily down on him. Her hands clenched around the now closed book, her knuckles turning white. She exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Sorry?" She spat bitterly, her voice a whisper. "That's all anyone says, but it won't change anything" Aerions jaw clenched anxiously, his gaze dropping to the ground.

"It won't" he agreed, his voice soft as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Another silence falling over the garden, not as awkward this time, but still stifling. 

Rhaenyra suddenly spoke, her tone rough around the edges. "She told my father, not—not to push her, to—to stop" she paused, her next words came out quieter, a hint of vulnerability in her tone. "But he didn't, he needed a son" 

Aerion thought that could be ironic, he dropped his head back against the tree bark. For all he knows, he may even be the son King Viserys was so adamant to have.

He sighed, he wanted to say something, anything to try and help, soothe her grief but…what could he say? His mothers death had always been distant, his uncle didn't like to speak of her. 

"People are acting like it was her duty" she said quietly, her voice trembling "Like it was necessary" Aerion eyes flicked back to her, his jaw clenching as his gaze dropped back to the ground. 

A deafening silence once again reigned supreme over the gardens, Aerion mind trying to find something, anything to say but finding nothing. 

"I—I" he sighed pausing as his eyes flicked over to her, she was still looking down at the closed book, her knuckles white as she gripped it. His fingers rapidly tapped his thigh, his lips thinning.

She broke the silence again, her voice low and strained. "It's all anyone talks about—her death. The baby. My father." Her fingers drummed against the book cover, avoiding Aerion's eyes as if speaking the words aloud made them too real.

Aerion shifted uncomfortably against the tree's roots. He could relate to the suffocating pressure, though in a much different way. 

"Princess" he said slowly as if not totally sure what he was about to say next. "I know this won't help…but I really am sorry" he said softly, though the words felt hollow, what could he say to help, really help. 

She sighed gently as her lilac eyes flicked over to his own, her jaw clenching "So am I" she muttered, her gaze dropping back to the cover of the book.

—-

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE 80 POWERSTONES!!! Also thanks for the two 5 star reviews!

Thoughts? This chapter was a pain to write