Hushed Whispers

Chapter 1: Flattering Of The Heart

The Red Keep is buzzing with noise. More and more lords, noblemen and other dignitaries arrive in King's Landing, preparing for the fast approaching festivals. A big tournament will be held and the King called all important houses of the realm to join the royal family in celebration of the impending birth of the son. Maids and servants bustle along the hallways, taking care of everyone's needs.

You ascend the stairs of the castle, the long skirts of your dress held in your hand, preventing you from tripping over them at your fast pace. The urgency to finally remove yourself from the chaos after the long day quickens your steps. Once at your destination, you let the dress fall and catch your breath, before opening the big wooden door.

"Mother," you announce your presence with a bright smile, the tension off the day already easing.

Queen Aemma looks up from the book resting on her lap. Her tired eyes soften in an instant. "Y/N!" She calls you warmly. "Come, my dear. Come, sit with me."

You're already half across the room. With a soft smile, you carefully sink onto the plush lounger opposite her. Your eyes flicker for a brief moment to her rounded belly before swiftly focusing back on her face. With genuine concern, you ask, "How are you feeling, Mother?"

The queen exhales deeply, closing the book before shifting to get a bit more comptable. "I'll manage, dear." Her faint smile can't hide the exhaustion in her voice. "But I cannot lie, I'm looking forward to the end of this most unpleasant pregnancy."

Your brows knit with sympathy. It has been her most difficult pregnancy by far. Everyday has been a battle with overwhelming sickness and the relentless fatigue bound her to her bed more times than not, her usual vitality sapped. You've tried to help where you could, though your mother's stubborn independence often made it challenging.

"How are our guests, dear?" she asks, shifting in her chair again for comfort. "Have you greeted them?"

Now it's your time to sigh. "Yes, mother." Hosting guests from so many noble houses had been exhausting. The endless pleasantries had been draining. "My cheeks still ache from all the forced smiles." This elicits a faint chuckle from the Queen. You glance at your hands, hesitantly admitting, "I wish Father had let go of the idea of the tourney."

Aemma raises an eyebrow at that. With a teasing grin tugging at her lips, she says, "You sound like you've been sentenced to some dreadful punishment. This tourney is in celebration of your brother, dear. Surely you don't begrudge him that?"

Your head snaps up at the accusation. "Mother, no. Of course not." Leaning forward, you take her hand in yours. "I am worried, mother. My little brother has yet to be born, and with all the stress surrounding the pregnancy and the preparation for the tournament... I can't help but to worry for him but especially for you."

"I'm lucky to have such a devoted daughter," she smiles warmly at you before brushing her knuckles against your cheek. Her hand moves to a loose strand of your hair hanging in front of your face, slowly her eyes wander to your hair. "Your braids are coming loose."

"It's been a long day," you admit, shifting slightly to give her better access. The Queen changes sets, coming to sit next to you. She undoes one of the braids, her fingers carefully running through your hair. A soft sight escapes you. "The sons of Lord Baratheon were relentless." You let her know, looking at your hands. "They spent the morning showering me with compliments and little gifts. If I'd taken a drink for every time one of them called me beautiful, I'd have passed out before noon."

Aemma chuckles softly, shaking her head. Her fingers weave your hair with care when she asks. "Ah, to be admired by young men. Surly it's been flattering, wasn't it?"