VISERYS
120 AC
The king looks through the window of his room, staring at the empty morning sky of King’s Landing.
Too peaceful for such a hard day.
He was very happy when his wife announced last year that she was once again pregnant.
Why wouldn’t he be?
His family was expanding.
How could that be a bad thing?
It went the wrong way quite quickly.
As each moon of pregnancy passed, Laena became more and more tired and was suffering from constant pain all over her body.
She also lost her appetite a lot of the time, making her lose some weight in a situation where a healthy woman would gain more weight.
Saying that the Queen’s health was worrying the King would be an understatement.
Of course, he is very familiar with that kind of situation.
Aemma always had difficult pregnancies.
Yet.
Here he is.
In the same old situation, acting in the same old way.
Scared of what the destiny may have for him now.
Has he not suffered enough?
Viserys tries to relax in his chair, but it would never happen in his current state.
Even the most comfortable chair in the world would feel like a chair of thorns.
Suddenly, there is a loud knock on the door.
The sound sends a shiver of fear through Viserys.
He feels like an arrow just crossed his heart.
The King takes a deep breath, gaining sufficient courage to go further.
“Enter,” Viserys proclaims, getting up from his chair to face the door of his room.
The door quickly opens, and the king is quite surprised.
He was expecting a messenger bringing news about his wife, but it was not the case.
“Your grace.” Ser Otto Hightower, his Hand of the King, proclaims with a respectful tone while making a bow.
Viserys sighs, relieved.
“Please, tell me it is you after knocking on the door, Otto.
I thought it was a servant bringing me disheartening information about my poor Laena.
Yet, I can’t deny that I am a bit relieved that it is you.” The king proclaims with a bitter smile while holding the top of his chair with one hand, trying to better control his nervousness.
By his expression, Ser Otto seems to be empathetic with his situation.
“It is good to hear that my presence had a good effect on such a troublesome day, Your Grace.
Honestly, I did not receive much information about the queen.
Things are not going well?” The Hand asks with a partially soft tone.
Viserys sighs, slowly stroking his forehead with his free hand.
“I don’t know.
It has been some time since I was informed of anything.
I ordered Grand Maester Mellos to send someone to inform me about anything that might be happening.
As nobody has come here yet, I can only assume that Laena is still in childbirth.
I want to see her, but…
I can’t find the courage to see her in such a bad state.
It would open scars that never truly closed.” The king says, fearful at the circumstances and angry at himself.
Ser Otto frowns and nods.
“Nobody can deny your suffering, your grace.” The hand says with a stern expression.
Viserys sighs once again.
He knows that Otto would never dare to point out his mistakes.
He has to face them himself.
The King takes a deep breath and fixes his posture.
“The servants took Baela and Rhaena back to their room?” the king asks.
Otto nods, also fixing his posture to an even more composed one.
“Yes.
The girls were playing with a caretaker who moved them to the bedroom.
The two of them started to ask for the queen, but they were convinced to behave once sweets emerged in the bargain.” The Hand of the King says with a snort, almost smiling.
Viserys laughs a bit.
“My sweet girls…
I often forget how much easier things were when I was a child.
I am privileged to be able to see my children grow.
Something my mother was not able to do.” The king says, bringing the sad tone to his voice once more.
Before the Hand of the King can say something, the door opens without any formality.
The two men move their eyes to the door to see a panting man walking inside and falling to a knee in front of them.
“My deepest apologies for my rude invasion, Your Grace and Lord Hand.
I came here to inform you that Grand Maester Mellos wants the presence of both of you in the room where he is helping the Queen,” the man proclaims in quick succession.
Viserys feels his heart going to his throat as he walks to the man and holds him by the shoulders, scaring him.
“What happened to my wife, servant?!” The king asks with a euphoric expression.
The messenger swallows a bit of saliva.
“I don’t know, Y-Your Grace.
The Grand Maester only told me to call for you.” The servant proclaims with honesty.
Viserys grunts with frustration before getting his hands away from the man.
The king quickly moves out of the room, with two of his king’s guards going after him.
Ser Otto follows right behind him with his typical serious expression.
He looks to the king as they walk through the corridors together, going towards the chamber of the Grand Maester.
“It might be nothing to be so worried about, your grace.
You need to calm down.
A troubled mind will never happen to solve problems, only to create more.” The hand says with a firm tone.
Viserys grunts.
“I am not a fool, Otto!
I know how to read the underlines of the games played by the snakes around me.
Mellos demanded to see me without further explanation!
It can only mean bad things.” The King says with a very altered tone as his pace gets faster.
Otto is quite surprised by what he just said but stays in silence.
And then, they finally arrive at the door of the chamber of the grand maester.
They can already hear the screaming of the Queen coming from inside.
The member of the Kingsguard in front of the door quickly moves away.
Viserys doesn’t lose any time and opens the door with a loud push.
The first thing they met was a confusion of maids moving around, doing several different things.
But then, the king sees what he wants to see, and he almost loses his breath.
Viserys looks to the bed in the room, and the first thing he sees is the fine blankets of silk covered in blood.
But that is not the worst one.
His wife is there, covered in sweat, panting and screaming, fighting against the intense pain and struggling to breathe.
Her beautiful silver hair is a complete mess, and her skin is extremely pale.
Viserys, on the verge of tears, walks towards his wife and takes her right hand with both of his hands.
Cold.
Cold like a dead body.
The king looks at Grand Maester Mellos, who is washing a towel in a bowl.
He is also sweating and clearly very tired of the last hours of work.
The King tries to hold his emotions so he can speak.
“Maester!
What is happening here?!” The king demands, almost completely desperate.
The grand maester frowns, clearly trying to keep his composure.
“The queen lost a lot of blood and is refusing to drink the tea I made for her.
We are trying our best here, your grace.
But there is something wrong with the child.” The Maester says, hesitating at the end.
Viserys notices that.
“What is wrong with our child, Maester?!” The king asks, even if deep down in his heart, he already knows the answer.
And the answer was the expression of the Maester.
Pity.
Tears roll down the face of the king as he realizes.
He lost one more child that he never got to hold in his arms.
The king holds the hand of his wife more firmly as she calms down from a surge of pain and tries to get some well-needed air.
The maester recomposes.
“I am sorry, your grace.
It seems that…
the child was gone a long time ago.
There was nothing to do about it.” The Maester says with a soft tone.
The king slowly nods and then looks at the maester with a desperate gaze.
“Please, Mellos….
I beg you…
at least save my wife.
I can’t lose two loved ones on the same day…
not again.” The King begs, not being able to properly control himself anymore.
The Maester nods.
I just need you to convince the queen to take the medicine.
We can’t accept the risk of forcing her to take the tea in the state that she is in,” the Grand Maester points out.
Viserys looks at his wife, who finally notices him after recovering some mental stability.
Her once beautiful purple eyes that reflected her ambitions, dreams, and love are now shady.
Hollow.
Devoid of will.
Dead inside.
Laena’s lips tremble as she reunites strength to form a resolution in her eyes as she holds the hands of Viserys with her weak one.
“Viserys…
they said that our child is dead…
I can’t believe in them, Viserys…
I can’t.
I could feel him, Viserys…
he can’t be gone…
our babe…
our boy…
tell me…
tell me that they are lying to me…
please…” The queen demands as her resolution fades away as quickly as it came, giving place to a river of tears coming down her beautiful face.
Viserys holds his tears as he struggles to answer her.
“Our babe is here, Laena…
he is still here…
with us…” The king says with a sad tone as he gently strokes her stomach with his hand and kisses her cold hand with tenderness.
Laena looks at him with a flash of hope in her eyes before falling into the bed once again as another scream of pain escapes from her lungs as she fights to push the babe out.
“Your grace…
she must drink the tea as soon as possible.” The Grand Maester says with a tone filled with pressure.
The King nods his head and then looks at his weakened wife, who just stopped screaming for now, with a smile of comfort.
“Laena…
please…
drink the tea that the grand maester prepared.
It is for your own good.
Please.” The king begs, talking slowly and gently.
The Queen grunts, frowning as she pants to get some more of her precious air.
“I don’t want it…
I know this tea, Viserys…
it will make me tired and sleepy.
I can’t sleep right now.
I want my babe…
I want to see my babe…
I don’t want to relax…” The quee proclaims, losing conviction the more she speaks.
Viserys sighs, touched.
“I am sorry, Laena, but Grand Maester Mellos is demanding for you to drink the tea.
If he is so convinced about it, it can only be a good thing for you.
Please, you need to drink that.
For our daughters, Laena.
They need you.
I need you.” The king proclaims with an emotional tone at the end.
Laena’s lips tremble once more before she nods with her head, tears still covering her face.
Grand Maester Mellos quickly brings the tea to her.
With a certain effort, Laena is able to drink the entirety of the tea, and it seemed that she was losing some of her paleness.
Yet, it all appears once more a minute later when Laena falls into another crisis of screaming and pain.
Viserys looks at the terrible situation of his wife, feeling powerless.
Even all the power of the King of the Seven Kingdoms is worthless in this situation.
The king sighs, looking at Laena with a short smile as she recovers a bit better than before.
He holds her face with both hands, looking at her with pure tenderness in his eyes.
“Laena, relax.
Everything will turn out well…
just focus on ending this as soon as possible.” The king says, receiving a slow nod from his exhausted wife.
Viserys smiles and kisses her forehead before turning to Mellos.
“There is something else I can do for her, Maester?” The king asks, determined.
The Grand Maester frowns.
“I think bringing familiar faces would be good for her.
Lord Hand, can you provide that?” The Grand Maester asks the Hand of the King.
Viserys notices the strange gaze that the two men share before Ser Otto nods.
“I can, but Daemon is on the Dragonpit, training Aegon and Aemond with the assistance of Ser Criston.
Alicent is with Helaena and Daeron in her bedroom, I think.
“The hand points out.
The grand maester nods and then looks back at the king.
“Your grace, I think you should leave with Lord Hand for now.
You are too nervous to be here, I am afraid.
The Queen needs to concentrate on the birth and let emotions out of this,” the Maester suggests.
The king frowns at the idea of leaving his wife now, but he nods.
He then looks at Laena with a bitter smile.
“Do your best, Laena.
I will be back soon, I promise.” The king says with a gentle tone before leaving a short kiss on her cold lips.
Laena looks at him with her shady purple eyes and nods before grinding her teeth as another wave of pain comes.
Viserys sighs and gets up.
He frowns at Grand Maester Mellos as he approaches the old man.
“Maester…
please…
promise to me that she will be well…” the king demands with a weak tone of voice.
The Maester looks to him with pity once again.
“I am sorry, Your Grace, but I am afraid that I can’t make any promises here.
Her situation is a very difficult one.
The Queen is very strong and resists that long.
There is hope, still.
It is all in the hands of the gods,” the Maester proclaims, trying to be hopeful.
The king takes a deep breath and nods to the maester before leaving the chamber, taking a final look at his screaming wife before the door closes.
The walk through the hallways is one of misery.
The only thing that Viserys can hear is his troubled thoughts and the echoing sound of his steps.
The king is desolated and filled with fear.
Once again, the fate of one of his loved ones is at the hands of the gods.
His dark thoughts are broken by the gentle touch of Otto’s hand on his shoulder.
A gesture of kindness, he assumes.
The hand opens a weak smile to him.
“Don’t be afraid, Your Grace.
Someone needs to be the strong pillar for a family.
And as the king, it is only natural for you to be that figure.” The Hand says with a soft tone in his voice.
Viserys let out an ironic and bitter laugh.
“Strong” is not a word that can be used to describe me, I am afraid.
I always was the soft one of the bunch.
My father was an excellent warrior, and my brother followed his steps.
And yet, I was only mediocre with a sword.
A master of nothing, in general.
Maybe I am paying the price of my complacency.” The king says with sadness as his pace starts to become slower and slower.
The Hand of the King lands a hand on his back as an imaginary way of support.
“I think you need to find some happiness on such a difficult day, my King.
You should visit the bedroom of your daughters.
I always noticed how happy you were while being around them.
It might be good for you and for them as well,” the hand suggests.
Viserys frowns, thinking, and then he nods.
“My little girls…
you are right, Otto.
I might be a terrible or unlucky husband, but I can at least be a remarkable father figure for them.
I will go to their bedroom right now.” The king proclaims, standing more firmly.
The hand nods.
“You want me to guide you to them, Your Grace?” The Hand asks.
Viserys denies with his head.
“No.
I can do that on my own.
You need to call Alicent and my nephews and also ask a servant to go after Daemon and his boys.
I am grateful for you to be by my side today…
The weak hint of an honest smile appears on the face of the stern hand of the king.
“It is my duty and pleasure, your grace.
I am leaving now.
May the gods bless you today, my King,” the Hand says with a bow before leaving.
Viserys sighs as he keeps walking towards the chamber of his daughters in the opposite direction.
The gods…
what are the gods planning for him this time?
Why are they so motivated in breaking his heart and soul?
What is the price he pays for the crown?
He has to pay for it with the blood of his wives and his unborn children?
Why does it happen with all the women of his family?
His grandmother, his aunts, his two wives…
…his mother.
The mere memory of his mother almost makes Viserys fall to the ground as his knees falter.
He has to hold his hands on the walls of the empty hallway to recover his breath as his heart is almost ripping apart in his chest.
As the king closes his eyes for a second, old memories of a poor child return to him.
“Muña…” Viserys whispers as he remembers his mother.
Her hair, her eyes, her smile, her laugh…
He remembers the times when she would bring him to fly in Meleys, the time when she gave him his first wooden sword.
And…
he remembers when she was taken away from him.
He was only seven, but he can still remember the moment very well.
He wanted to see his mother and entered the bedroom where she was giving birth.
Terrible decision.
The vision he had became a permanent torment on his head.
His mother, covered in blood after giving birth to Aegon, fights to stay awake.
The vision was frightening for him.
He never saw that much blood in a single place.
He was horrified.
His father tried to move him away, but his mother demanded the Spring Prince bring him to her.
And so he did.
With his eyes closed, Viserys can still feel her gentle hand on his face.
He can still see her lovely smile.
He can still hear her tired voice.
“You are not a babe anymore, Viserys.
Stop being so scared.
You now have two little brothers to protect.
Twice the work for you.
Listen…
I promise that I will recover soon.
Just be patient.
Do you understand?” The determined voice of his mother echoes inside his head.
And after his young self nodded, she kissed his cheek.
Days passed, and his mother only got worse, and then, one day, she was gone.
Forever.
That memory was forgotten inside his head until…
it all happened again.
Aemma…
his beloved Aemma…
met the same fate as both his mother and her mother.
He was desolated to see it all over again.
He felt like the same frightened child he was when his mother died.
Powerless, scared, and confused.
And now, things are happening a third time.
Why?
Why him?
Why did he have to lose all the women he cared about in his life in such a terrible way?
Why was his brother Aegon taken away from him?
Why were all the several children he conceived with his wives taken away from him?
The King tries to recover himself as he supports himself using the wall of the hallway.
When he finally manages to return to reality, he hears the sound of odd steps coming towards him.
And when Viserys looked in that direction, he was horrified by what he saw.
Defying logic, his wife, Queen Laena Velaryon, walks in his direction.
Her light blue dress was dirty, ripped, and covered in blood.
Her skin was covered in sweat and extremely pale.
Her shady purple eyes were swollen from all the crying, and a trace of blood followed her, dripping from her legs.
Viserys could see life fading away from her body with each difficult breath that came out of her mouth.
Her lips tremble once again when she looks at his eyes.
“Viserys…” the young woman proclaims, slowly extending her arms.
Viserys quickly runs towards her, holding the cold body of his wife in his arms.
“Laena!
What in the seven hells are you doing here?!” The king asks, desperate.
Laena continues to cry in his arms, laying her head on his chest.
“Our boy is gone…
Viserys…
he is gone…
I never got to see him alive…” She cries, filled by sadness.
Viserys can’t help but let the tears fall from his face as well.
“It does not matter now, Laena.
You can still live.
For our daughters!” The king proclaims, trying to build a confidence that could not exist.
Laena looks at him with hopeless eyes.
“I am sorry…
I am so sorry…
forgive me…
Baela…
Rhaena…
I will not live for long…
please…
Viserys…
I want one last flight before I die…
take me to Vhagar…
please…
I beg you…” The queen demurs between her tears and difficult breathing.
Viserys is conflicted.
“That is madness, Laena!
You should see our daughters!” The King proclaims, struggling against his own despair.
Laena trembles in his arms, denying with her head.
“No…
I don’t want them to…
see me like this…
please…
take me to Vhagar…
Viserys…” the Queen demands, losing more and more of her voice.
She falls completely on his arms, losing all her strength.
Viserys gets more desperate.
“Laena!
Don’t you dare close your eyes now!
I will do anything you want, just keep your eyes open!
Please!” the king urges, trembling and in tears as he gently shakes his wife in his arms.
Yet, it was useless.
The purple eyes that he came to adore over time closed one last time.
A last fragment of her voice escapes from Laena’s mouth, together with the remaining air in her lungs.
Looking at her in his arms, Viserys wanted to deny the reality, but his worst nightmares came to haunt him again.
Even worse than before.
Viserys falls to his knees, and the sunlight coming from a crack on a closed window in the hallways illuminates his face from top to bottom.
As the King looked at the light, he felt like it was a mockery of the gods.
A judgment.
A punishment.
And he had only one word to say to them.
“WHY?!” Viserys screams at the top of his voice before falling into tears and more desperate screams while hugging the cold body of his second wife.
The King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men lay there, kneeling in the blood of his wife, wailing for everything he lost.
Begging for an answer that he would never get.