Closer
Kingslanding
Arianne watched from afar as Rhaegar and the newly arrived Twyin Lannister spoke in hushed voices, their bodies facing the balcony in the gardens. She was sat a few steps away, humming to Valerion as the babe squealed in delight at the sight of his father. He drooled onto her hand as he bit into it, he had been teething and was taking it considerably well.
Visenya on the other hand ... she made sure to make her discomfort and pain known. Arianne had given her to the milkmaid to feed now as she was tired of being bitten constantly. It wasn't as bad as it was in Dragonstone though, the two had started eating food, albite it was runny and repulsed Arianne, they seemed to enjoy it. Arianne was glad to be back in Kingslanding, Dragonstone had tired her, the journey back was uncomfortable and reminded her never to go via ship again.
"What are you so excited about, hmm? Are you not happy with mama?" Arianne asked the babe, whispering into his ear. Valerion giggled, taking her nose into his hands. He moved his lips, trying to mimic her words. "Ma-ma," Arianne repeated slowly, catching onto his wonder. He was five moons old, almost six moons, and already starting to speak.
He moved his lips again, "pa-pa." He squealed in excitement, following his first tangible word with a series of other babbles. Jaime and Arthur, who were stood near her both let out stifled laughter.
"Yes, very funny." Arianne glared at him, "I feed you, change you, wash you – and yet you are your father's son. I am hurt Valerion." Valerion laughed in response. Arianne had never seen such a happy child; all he did was laugh and babble. Even when the hard-faced Tywin had interrupted their family lunch, Valerion had reached out for the man to grab him. He was Twyin Lannister, so of course, he did not. At the sight of Twyin, Visenya had wailed so loudly that a wet nurse had come and taken her away.
She could not think of loving two people any more than she had loved her children, apart from Rhaegar of course.
Rhaegar let out a small chuckle, her favourite kind. Arianne turned her attention from their son to Rhaegar, observing as Twyin watched the Prince laugh. The way he held onto the balcony, threw his head back, placed his hand on his chest in a delicate manner – she could not believe how lucky she had been to be married to such a man. Arianne wondered what the stiff-lipped Lord Twyin had said to cause such a response.
Their surroundings grew silent for the shortest second, the birds around them quieting down. One of the seven bells of the Sept of Baelor rang loudly. It was deafening and had grabbed the attention of the two men.
"What is it?" Arianne asked Rhaegar as he made his way over, she stood from her stone seat.
"I don't know," Rhaegar responded, how could he? He was stood near her the whole time.
It kept ringing as a servant with his hands held behind his back ran over to them. "Your grace, your grace, my lord," he bowed, "I'm sorry to disturb you but-," hesitated for a moment.
"Out with it boy," Twyin scowled.
"The Queen has given birth; the babe has passed."
...
Rhaegar and Arianne stood at the foot of the Queen's bed, watching as Rhaella lay limply on her bed.
"We do not expect her to recover from this one," Maester Pycelle sighed, moving slowly from her bed to the two. "It was a difficult birth."
"Thank you Maester," Rhaegar whispered, waiting for the Maester to excuse himself. The room had been cleaned before they entered, and there was only one maid who sat next to Rhaella and patted her head with a wet cloth.
Arianne watched the Maester exit the room, she neared the bed, "leave us please."
The maid looked back at her, "but your grace-,"
"It's alright, I can do it," she cut in. She nodded and handed Arianne the wet cloth, getting up from the bed and leaving the room in haste. Arianne dipped the cloth in the nearby bowl, wrung it and pressed it to Rhaella's head.
Rhaella let out a laboured breath, lifting her hand up to touch Arianne's. "Mother you must rest," Rhaegar called out, he was seated at the edge of the bed now.
Rhaella smiled lightly in response, "I told him, anyone but that one." Rhaegar scoffed, knowing exactly what she was referring to. Arianne frowned, "at Harrenhal. When you arrived, I said to Rhaegar anyone but her." Arianne laughed quietly in response, unsure of what to say to better Rhaella's mood. "She was to be Daenerys Targaryen; it seems the gods do not wish me to have a daughter."
"I'm sorry Rhaella," Arianne whispered, wiping a tear that was falling from Rhaella's soft and pale face.
Rhaella smiled again, "I will meet her soon enough. She would have been gentle, like her brothers." Rhaegar stayed silent, uncertain of what to say. "Gentle and determined." There was a soft silence, the soft breeze of the spring air outside cooling down the hot room. "You were the coyest little thing," Rhaella laughed once more, "and Rhaegar – you'd think he'd never seen a woman in his entire life." She was talking to herself now. "You are exactly as she was."
Arianne blinked down at Rhaella, resting her legs on the bed properly now. She leant over to dip the towel in the bowel again, Rhaella stopped her.
"Serene," Rhaella whispered back, pulling Arianne's face closer to her. "She told me, the next girl I will have is to be named Arianne Dayne. Well, she told me and Prince Doran, the little thief," she laughed, recalling Prince Doran saying his next daughter was to be named Princess Arianne and the two had quarrelled over it. Rhaella had calmed them.
"The first daughter to be born shall take the name. Does that sound fair?"
"I sent her away because I thought he would have killed you. There was still a chance I-," Rhaella pointed to her stomach, "I didn't know what he'd do ... to you or Serene ... or me, as selfish as that seems. And I had one of my own lords killed for it. I know you loved Rickard Arianne, and I'm truly sorry I caused such a mess," Rhaella said, her cheeks red and her eyes tired.
"It's alright, you thought no ill of it. And I wouldn't have two beautiful children to call my own without your actions," Arianne smiled lightly, taking Rhaegar's free hand into her own.
Rhaella sighed, she had finally gotten off her chest what was there for seven and ten years. "He never took another woman you know – he might have looked, but Serene was his first and last paramour. She was my lady, ever since I was the Princess of Dragonstone, she was my lady," Rhaella felt her voice crack as she spoke. "He had not even taken Joanna. The rumours some people come up with," she rolled her eyes. "Besides, Twyin would have never married a woman that Aerys had touched."
Rhaegar moved off the bed and closer to her, "stop talking this instance and rest."
"I'm dying sweet boy; don't you see that?"
"You are not," Rhaegar insisted.
Rhaella took his hand in her left, and Arianne's in her right. They sat there for some time, listening to Rhaella's strained breaths and Arianne's whispered prayers. "Kill him. A thousand deaths I wish on him," Rhaella sobbed, kissing Rhaegar's hand. "I'm sorry I can't be with you as you are crowned King. Take care of Viserys."
Rhaegar shushed her, placing his forehead on her own. "You are speaking nonsense."
"To be a King is not a right, it is your duty Rhaegar. Don't lose what your ancestors died to preserve." Her incoherent words from before making sense to both Rhaegar and Arianne now. Rhaella blinked up at him, closing her eyes for the final time and letting out a relaxed breath. Rhaegar and Arianne watched as her breaths grew silent, the rise and fall of her chest ceasing.
"No," Rhaegar mumbled, shaking her lightly. "No, mother you are not dying. Not now, not yet." He shook her gently.
"Rhaegar," Arianne said, moving his hands from the Queen's departed body. If it was one thing her Septa had taught her properly, it was to let the dead rest. "Rhaegar stop it."
He slapped her hand away, letting out a wail Arianne had never heard leave his lips.
There was not one soul in the city who slept that night, the seven bells rang all throughout the night – reminding Rhaegar of his mother's death over and over again. He had half a mind to fling his body from the balcony. Half a mind to ride to Summerhall and lose himself amongst the rubble he had been born in. Half a mind to fall on his own sword. But being held in Arianne's arms stopped him, for now.
He cried all through the night, Arianne could not help but think his voice was just as melodic as it was when he was singing.
...