Queen Alysanne stood in the dim hallway, watching her youngest son's small figure slowly recede from view. The door closed with a quiet click, leaving the room—and her heart—in a fragile silence. She had listened to the conversation between father and son, holding her breath the entire time, yet she had not intervened.
Finally, she spoke, her voice gentle but laden with concern.
"Jaehaerys, are you certain you want to follow the method Gaimon suggested? He is still far too young. Exposing him to such dangerous magic at this age… it is not appropriate. We know so little about its true consequences. What if Gaimon hides something from us to avoid worrying us, and the effects are far worse than we can anticipate?"
King Jaehaerys I, lying back on the bed, turned his head slightly to meet his wife's gaze. His voice was calm, measured, and firm.
"Alysanne, the child worries more for your safety than for himself. I have observed him closely. If there were any serious consequences, he would not have spoken of it so easily. We will only use it as a last resort. And if all goes as it should, that last resort will remain unused."
Relief washed over Queen Alysanne, though it was mingled with the lingering worry every mother feels for her children. Still, she could not ignore the truth of her husband's words, or the quiet determination in Gaimon's plan. Feeling the warmth of Jaehaerys' presence, she reached out with her right hand and took his left, holding it tightly.
Jaehaerys returned the gesture with a gentle pressure, a silent affirmation of love and trust. Looking into the eyes of her husband, Alysanne whispered, her voice thick with emotion:
"Don't worry, my love. I will be fine. I have given birth many times before, and I know my body. I will see this through, just as I always have."
Satisfied with her words, Jaehaerys did not respond verbally. Instead, he shifted, drawing her closer into a tender embrace. The room fell into a quiet serenity, the kind that comes only when love is shared silently, fully, and without need for words.
---
In the days that followed, careful preparations were made. Jaehaerys arranged for the necessary measures to perform the blood magic, should it ever become unavoidable. Someone would masquerade as a wizard and perform the ritual on Gaimon's behalf if the queen's labor became dangerously complicated. Meanwhile, Gaimon would accompany the queen in secret, ready to cast the magic himself.
Once all preparations were complete, Gaimon felt a small weight lift from his heart. There was nothing left for him to do but wait—and hope.
---
Soon, the day arrived. Queen Alysanne returned to the chamber where she had fought her previous battles—this time, to face the ultimate test: childbirth. The delivery room remained the same, as did the corridor outside, yet this time a small figure lingered among the gathered attendants—a silent, watchful presence.
Knowing that labor could be long, everyone outside the delivery room sought to distract themselves. Quiet conversations bloomed in the corridor, a small shield against the anxiety gnawing at them. Yet no chatter could fully obscure the tension in the air. Every minute stretched painfully, each sound from inside the room twisting their hearts with fear.
The cries of the laboring queen, first sharp and commanding, gradually softened into hoarse strains. Those waiting outside felt a weight grow heavier with each passing hour, their prayers whispered into the cool, dim air of the corridor. Daughters of noble families, some quietly kneeling, whispered fervent appeals to the Seven Gods, hoping that the merciful Virgin might extend her protection over Alysanne once more.
King Jaehaerys paced the corridor, struggling to contain the storm of anxiety in his chest. He had wished to use Gaimon's magic, but feared its potential repercussions. For now, he could do nothing but wait, clinging to hope.
---
Hours passed, and the bright morning sun faded into the gentle embrace of evening. Time, which had felt endless, finally bore fruit. With a cry quieter than the first, the struggle between life and death reached its end. Once again, Queen Alysanne emerged victorious.
Gaimon had been ready to step in with his magic if needed, yet in the end, it was better that the queen had triumphed on her own. He knew that injecting another's vitality into her body was fraught with unknown consequences; magic of that kind could twist fate in ways no one could predict. Better that she survived naturally, as she had always done.
Grand Secretary Nefer, who had attended Alysanne through countless births, carefully cleaned the newborn and wrapped the child in soft, exquisite silk. Then he opened the door, allowing the anxious family to rush in.
The infant, swaddled and quiet, lay on the bed beside the queen. The delicate features offered no clue to the child's gender. Confusion and anticipation swept the room.
"Congratulations, Your Majesties," Grand Secretary Nefer began, voice measured but uncertain. "It is another prince… but—"
His words faltered, his hesitation immediately noticed by the king. Jaehaerys' heart clenched. This pause, this subtle change in tone, was familiar—he had seen it once before, the day Prince Gaimon was born.
With a frown, he guided Nefer aside to a balcony, away from the queen and the newborn. The cool night air enveloped them as the king turned to face the older man, his expression firm.
"Just speak plainly. There is no need for hesitation."
Nefer swallowed, gathering courage. "Your Majesty… the prince is in a similar condition to Prince Gaimon when he was born. The queen's age has complicated the pregnancy, and the child's physical condition is extremely fragile. With the current circumstances, there is a significant chance that he may not survive to see his third birthday."
Jaehaerys' jaw tightened. Though he had prepared himself mentally for hardship, hearing it spoken aloud was still a blow. His voice, sharp with disbelief and protective instinct, cut through the night air.
"Silence! Prince Gaimon was weak at birth too, yet he thrives now. This child has just entered the world. He will grow stronger, as all children do. Do not speak of death as if it is already written."
Nefer dared not argue, though in his heart, he knew the truth. He had meticulously examined the newborn; the child's frailty was profound. Medicine, even under the Grand Maester's careful supervision, offered little hope. The chances of survival were slim.
Jaehaerys' gaze hardened, and a thought flickered in his mind—a fleeting realization that, in this moment, was best left unspoken. He had no time for conjecture. With a firm voice, he issued one final command.
"Keep this matter to yourself. Do not speak of the prince's condition to anyone. If it becomes known, do not come to me with excuses."
With that, he turned and strode back into the delivery room, leaving Nefer alone on the balcony. The older man stood in the dim night, disheveled and shaken, the king's words echoing in his mind.
---
Inside, Queen Alysanne rested, her chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. The newborn lay beside her, swaddled and fragile, the faintest hints of a future yet unwritten flickering in his tiny features. Love, worry, and hope interwove in the room's quiet stillness.
Gaimon, though unseen by the others, lingered nearby, the burden of magic and expectation pressing upon him. He had prepared for every contingency, every risk, yet he had also learned the importance of patience. The queen's natural strength had seen them through. For now, magic would remain in its dormant state, a silent guardian waiting in the shadows.
As night deepened over the Red Keep, a hushed calm settled over the household. The struggle of the day had ended. Queen Alysanne had fought and survived. A prince had entered the world, delicate yet alive. And while uncertainty lingered, so did hope—a fragile, persistent ember, burning quietly against the dark.
King Jaehaerys returned to her side, holding her hand once more. "We have survived," he whispered, a faint smile touching his lips. "We have, together."
Alysanne's eyes glimmered with tears, both of relief and pride. "Together," she echoed, squeezing his hand. The room, once heavy with fear, now carried a warmth born of enduring love, courage, and the silent strength that had seen them through yet another trial.
Outside, the night stretched endlessly, silent and watchful, as the future slowly began to unfold for the newest member of the Targaryen family—a child born under the shadow of uncertainty, yet cradled in the unyielding devotion of those who loved him most.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)