Chapter Text
The rest of the evening was spent in chaos as the Lord’s and Maester argued amongst themselves about the North and Aemond’s analysis. You watched in silence, mind reeling at the fact that not only did he agree with you, he had done so openly and in front of the council.
About your mother no less.
His half-sister he has had no issue with raising his hatred for.
It surprised you.
And everyone else present.
When the dinner had finished, you and Aemond left to your chambers, your thighs wet in anticipation and excitement.
He had agreed with you.
He had supported you.
Aemond had defied them all.
You pushed Aemond onto the bed and rode him passionately, pulling at the ties of his breeches as he kissed at you from below. You slid onto him in one smooth movement, the both of you sighing into the humid air of the chambers. The whole while, praising him with gentle whispers, kissing over his face and scar until you both reached your peaks.
After this, Aemond was insatiable, constantly between your thighs, lapping at your cunt until your legs shook, filling you full of his seed as he nipped and sucked at your breasts or neck. And as the days continued to move by without issue, a new one arose.
It reared its ugly little head in the stillness of the storm, the dust having settled around you. The skies had opened up, and felt the rays of calm warm against your skin, but then came the downpour. Torrential and sudden, leaving you no room to seek cover or escape it.
It was not until one morning, when your tea had been left un-drunk on the table, had you realised just how precarious your situation truly was. You realised with horror, that you had not had your moons bleed in some time.
It was not until that fateful morning had you realised that Aemond had often pulled you from your meals and would dive inside of you. That Aemond had been more rapacious than usual and determined to fill you as often as he could.
That he always had been.
And for the past moons, you had been so self-assured that it would be okay.
It was as though the earth stopped spinning on its axis, and reality crashed down on you violently. Joanna and Amala were in the chambers, bathing you in front of the fire. A wet cloth had been brushed over the peaks of your breasts, and a sudden gasp had left your lips, flinching back and away at the zap of sensitivity that ran through you.
Your brows furrowed, and Amala looked at you in concern.
Aemond was not known to be gentle, and on more than one occasion his teeth would nip at your stiffened peaks and the soft flesh of your breasts. But this sensation was new and foreign to you. As though your senses were heightened, tripled in strength. That a soft, warm touch felt like blazing fire.
And the more you became aware of it in that blooming moment, the more you noticed the changes.
They had felt heavier than usual, and your new gowns, which were usually perfectly tailored to your body, seemed to have become tighter around your bust, the tops of your breasts pushing up in their confines which always seemed to drag Aemond’s gaze or the wandering eyes of the King.
It is then, in the steaming water of your bath, surrounded by your maids did you realise, you might be with child.
Your heart felt cold, and your throat seemed to tighten.
Amala tilted her head looking at you, “My Lady?” She questioned, hand dropping back into the oiled water, cloth still in hand.
Your mouth opened and closed. Unsure of how to get the words out of your throat that seemed to be stuck there. Your gaze lifted to Amala, Joanna having stopped her tidying, coming to beside the tub, concern on her face.
Your brows furrowed as you tried to think of when your last bleed had come. And the last time was after Aegon.
It had been far too long without it.
Cotton seemed to sit in your mouth as you blinked, feeling dread settle deep within your gut. You looked down at your body, hand brushing against your stomach. There was no visible swelling that you would have expected, except perhaps a slight bloating. It was your breasts that seemed to give it away.
“Princess?” Joanna prodded gently, kneeling by the tub with Amala.
“I think…" You swallowed thickly, eyes looking down into the milky water of the tub, “I am with child.”
The words felt foreign. It did not feel like it came from your own lips. It seemed to pass through them of its own volition, taking up space and devouring the air between you. As though it was a sentient entity that fed off of the three of you. Four of you.
Amala and Joanna looked at each other before Joanna stood suddenly, moving to the table she had begun to tidy, looking to the cold and undrunken tea. The maid picked up the china and fled to the side of the tub to you, holding it out.
You stared at the tea.
Do you drink it?
Would it work?
You were sure you had been drinking the doses correctly.
You were sure you had not missed a cup.
But when you tried to think on it, you came to nothing.
Was it always affective?
What if you had grown a tolerance to it?
You looked back at the two maids looking between the two of them, then back to the tea.
You inhaled deeply.
No.
“Princess?” Joanna asked unsure.
You had voiced that out loud.
You shook your head.
“If it didn’t work then, it won’t work now. Maybe the dose was wrong? Or-or I forgot a day. Or ma-“
The Gods.
Perhaps this was meant to happen.
You blinked, swallowing dryly and continued, “I can’t. Not now. Not when Alys Rivers is with child. There was no running from this fate, as much as you have tried.” The two maids looked at each other, “Keep bringing me tea, but not Moon Tea. We cannot let anyone become suspicious of the two of you.”
Amala swallowed, “My Lady, we-“
“I know that my father has you looking over me.” You said quietly, so that not even someone a few feet away would hear.
Joanna was the next to speak, “It is the Queen who commands us, Your Grace.”
The Queen.
Your mother.
You smiled sadly.
“Have you told her…”
The two girls looked at each other, “The Maester forbade it. It is to come from your lips and yours only, Princess. When the time is right. When you want to.” Joanna explained.
They didn't know.
They didn’t know about Aegon.
You sniffed, bowing your head. “Good. Let us keep it this way. And do not speak a word of this to anyone. Not the Maester, or anyone else in this Keep.”
“You wish to keep it?” Amala asked quietly, hands on the edge of the tub, curled around the metal lip.
“I have little choice. They would become suspicious if it didn't happen soon, and if his whore in Harrenhal has a child," You bit the inside of your cheeks, "And his own wife doesn't? Who's to say they wouldn't legitimise it because of my 'failure' as a wife?” You sighed, “But, despite this, I feel that it may help me.” You paused, lifting a hand, seeking help to stand in the deep tub, and step out of the side.
Amala moved away to bring forth your robe, wrapping it around you tightly, careful to not brush your sensitive chest. Water dripped from your legs and onto the floor as you stood before the fire, looking at the two maids.
“Who else is there?”
The girls shifted on their feet.
“Is it just you?”
“We cannot say, Your Grace.” Joanna started, but upon pausing she took your hands in her own, “But know this, we are not alone. Your mother and father ask after you often, and their eyes are far and plenty. Do not think they have abandoned you. They are waiting for your command.”
Tears rose in your eyes, pricking in the corners as you squeezed her hands.
You were not alone.
You were not abandoned.
They have eyes on you.
They’ve always had eyes on you.
They were waiting for you.
You nodded and gave the two a small, and sad smile.
Amala and Joanna began to dress you, drying your hair and braiding it down your back. As you sat in front of the vanity, you could not help but feel the anxiety and trepidation that you felt about what was to come next.
You were pregnant.
You were going to have a child.
Images of blood and your mothers cries flooded your mind as you blinked.
What if that happened to you?
What if you lost your child?
What if you died in childbirth like Aemma? Like many other women did across the realm?
Like Jasper Wylde’s many wives?
The 'what if's' spun inside your head so fiercely, you could not think straight, your throat tightening and air scarcely getting into your lungs. The maids noticed your sudden gulping breaths and assured you that it was okay, and that it would be alright, gripping your shoulders to ground you, but it was no use.
You stood from the vanity and begun to pace about the chambers, breathing shallowly as you pressed a hand at your stomach to steady yourself.
Oh Gods.
What am I going to do?
What am I going to say?
Aemond.
How do I tell Aemond?
Your bare feet continued to carry you in laps around the chambers as the two maids watched from the side, unsure of what to do. And then there it was, the familiar tickling in the back of your mind, a shadow that had been forgotten.
Mandia, He whispered. Sister.
Two figures, side by side at the window watching you. A head of brown, a head of silver. Both staring. Both unmoving. Both, thankfully, dry. A sob caught in your throat as you looked at them, feet moving you towards where they stood by the window.
The chamber doors opened and you spun around, tearing your eyes away from your brother and aunt, hand still against your skin, anxiety oozing from your pores.
What would he do?
“Are you well?” Aemond asked, walking into the chambers, laying scrolls of parchment onto the side table beside the wine, before moving himself over to you as you stood dumbly in the room.
Were you well?
Were you?
Aemond came to take your hands in his, concern in his eyes.
“Was it Aegon?” He asked, almost frantically, sensing your anxiety and the tension that continued to roll off of you in waves.
You scoffed, of course he would think the reason for your distress was his brother and not the other multitudes of towering troubles that seemed to circle you like vultures.
You yanked your hands away from him and moved to pace the chambers again, walking back and forth in front of the hearth as all watched.
Aemond turned to the maids and dismissed them sharply.
“Do not speak to them like that.” You snapped, watching as the girls bowed their heads and made their leave.
“What is wrong with you?” Aemond questioned.
“What is-“ You laughed, “What is wrong?”
Gods, so many things.
So many things were wrong.
This was just the tip of the mountain.
Aemond came towards you again, grabbing your shoulders softly as he held you still, your eyes darting over his shoulders, searching for Lucerys and Helaena again.
They were gone.
Aemond tilted his head towards your line of sight before lowering his voice softly.
“Is he here again?”
Lucerys.
You blinked.
“They are always here.”
Aemond’s hands moved to your cheeks, pulling your line of sight to his. You held his gaze as he searched your face.
“What is-“
“I’m with child.” You blurted.
Aemond blinked, head moving backwards in shock.
“What?” He asked quietly, the word barely a whisper, his mouth parted and fingers twitching against you.
You opened your mouth again to speak but your breath was caught in your throat.
The chambers fell still.
“I’m -“
Aemond crashed his lips to yours.