#torrhen manderly

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

i normally don't really ask things on here (though i'm a longtime fan!) but something is puzzling me. the wiki lists daena's marriage to baelor as 160 AC, and Daeron's death as 161 AC. i know daeron returned to Dorne in 160AC, but what is the logic of marrying daena to baelor? surely as the oldest sister she was expected to marry daeron first and foremost? do you think daeron himself arranged this, or viserys for some reason in particular? or is this GRRM messing up his own worldbuilding so he can justify their annulment later on?

Alas, you're not the only one puzzled, this is something we don't know. Pre-TWOIAF, GRRM stated that Daeron was married,* but he dropped that plot point when finalizing the Targaryen family tree for that book. (Which is where those dates of 160 and 161 come from for the wiki.) It may be he still thinks Daeron was betrothed* but not yet married (refusing until he'd finished conquering Dorne), or maybe some other thing was happening there. But I doubt it's a worldbuilding issue, there's for sure a reason that fits into the politics of the time, we just don't know what it is yet. It'll be in Fire & Blood volume 2 (or Blood & Fire, whatever it ends up being called), one day.

*Married or betrothed to whom? Well, since it wasn't a relative, I'd suspect a foreign alliance (cf. Daeron's own wish to betroth one of his sisters to the Sealord of Braavos), perhaps arranged when Daeron was young. Something done by Alyn Oakenfist and Hand of the King Viserys, most likely, since Aegon III was so removed from that sort of thing. Maybe Daeron's mother Daenaera was involved! (she said hopefully, and likely fruitlessly.) Could've been to a Lyseni Valyrian family, in an attempt to repair the Rogare problems. (Larra had left Viserys and returned to Lys in 139, but she died in 145, two years after Daeron was born.) Could have been to a Volantis Valyrian family, again related to one of Alyn's voyages. Or maybe someone from even further east! (Yi Ti? she again said hopefully and probably fruitlessly.)

Or maybe it was someone local. We still have no idea how Unwin Peake's villainy was ever resolved, if it was. Also Aegon III apparently made an enemy of Torrhen Manderly by canceling his coming-of-age progress, so maybe someone northern? (Some resolution with Cregan Stark to the Pact of Ice and Fire, one of his daughters with Aly?) Or who knows, maybe there was some attempt at a Dornish alliance during Aegon III's reign (since Alyn was so, um, friendly with Aliandra Martell), and its failure is one of the reasons Daeron was so determined to "complete the Conquest". But any further speculation would be fanfic I don't really care to write, so again, we'll just have to leave the details for the F&B continuation.

[horizon-verizon]

One of my favorite post-Dance moments is when Torrhen Manderly suggested Aegon III and Daenaera go on a royal tour and “when Aegon III wears black, Daenaera will wear green and vice versa” and Aegon III said “no fucking way I’m putting green on myself” and canceled his plan lmao.

These are the quotes from Fire and Blood ("The Lysene Spring and the End of the Regency") - you can just look at the first and last two pics:

It's a little bit more than "no fucking way I’m putting green on myself", though that's so funny.

I have thoughts about the layers we can get from the conflicts Aegon will have with his own subjects and the path of the Dance to the "Broken Reign" when the last dragon dies. These are my PDF notes so far, so they will not be entirely legible:

There are layers to Aegon's motivations, inspirations, & handling of coming into power and interrupting the progrees versus the regents and the Grandmaester's desires for it.

1) His time with Cregan Stark, whose motives were to keep with his oath/promise to Jace-Rhaenyra and thus was more on Aegon's side than others, also comes with Cregan's focus on making hard decisions for the more vulnerable sections of the populations over making oneself more amicable or pleasing to nobles. Him and the Winter wolves who literally sacrifice themselves so some of their families will have enough food to eat in the winter, as they relate that.

2) "Spring is the time for new beginnings" -- thinking of Geoffrey Chaucer and his prolouge of his Canterbury Tales where traveling (specifically a religious pilgrimage) gives different people the opportunity to reconnect or be confronted by different sections of society/perspectives through their either firsthand experiences or interpretations and retellings of familiar ideas/tales/tropes...but the prologue itself uses spring as the period of joy, beginnings, restoration, playfulness, merriment, and sex...bringing one out of the winter/time of anxiety of survivial (Dance) --> "true beginning of reign" -- Aegon's time and beginning associated with happiness and hope: nobles seeing Aegon to be familiar with him and for him to show that he is attentive to their image of him or wants to be involved with them and their interests (one of whom was Unwin, to "assuage" him [?!]), juxtaposed against lower classes' need for food & the pseudo symbolic assurance of survival (return to understanding that need from the "winter"/winter of several things gone wrong before) -- displays of prosperity vs actions to ensure prosperity and miscommunication or refusal to relate the self or the abandonment of persuasion/rhetoric from internal exhaustion, or an internal "winter", and the subsequent determination to conserve the borders between those closest to you/you and those with the potential to harm.

3) Spring is also associated with youth pushing out the old -- Aegon has been a helpless child for long and he now pushes out the "old" Torrhen/older male authority styming his own...ironically he also requires the other lords' participation and/or eager participation with whatever policies he wishes to institute...which should be how it goes just how it is with springtime flowers and such, so with feudalism there is a lot of self-contradictory dynamics that serve to generate the same old conflicts or plant the "seeds" of such potential

4) an impure repetition of Jaehaerys vs Rogar and the conflict of male authority there -- the halting of one cycle when another (changing of the seasons, which is inevitable but always yearned for in a weird sort of nostalgia, isolation versus social interaction)

[eschercaine]

It was still morning, though, when King Aegon entered the council chambers where Lord Torrhen and the regents were debating whether or not to include Tumbleton on the progress. Four knights of the Kingsguard accompanied the young king to the council chambers. So did Sandoq the Shadow, veiled and silent, carrying his great sword. His ominous presence cast a pall in the room. For a moment even Torrhen Manderly lost his tongue. “Lord Manderly,” King Aegon said, in the sudden stillness, “pray tell me how old I am, if you would be so good.” “You are ten-and-six today, Your Grace,” Lord Manderly replied. “A man grown. It is time for you to take the governance of the Seven Kingdoms into your own hands.” “I shall,” King Aegon said. “You are sitting in my chair.” The coldness in his tone took every man in the room aback, Grand Maester Munkun would write years later. Confused and shaken, Torrhen Manderly prised his considerable bulk out of the chair at the head of the council table, with an uneasy glance at Sandoq the Shadow. — Fire and Blood, pg. 721-722

Here it is, folks! Aegon III Targaryen, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm’s Delight and Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

[stromuprisahat]

“Your Grace, we were speaking of the progress—” “There will be no progress,” the king declared, as he was seated. “I will not spend a year upon a horse, sleeping in strange beds and trading empty courtesies with drunken lords, half of whom would gladly see me dead if it gained them a groat. If any man requires words with me, he will find me on the Iron Throne.” Torrhen Manderly persisted. “Sire,” he said, “this progress would do much and more to win you the love of the smallfolk.” “I mean to give the smallfolk peace and food and justice. If that will not suffice to win their love, let Mushroom make a progress. Or perhaps we might send a dancing bear. Someone once told me that the commons love nothing half so much as dancing bears. You may call a halt to this feast tonight as well. Send the lords home to their own keeps and give the food to the hungry. Full bellies and dancing bears shall be my policy.”

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

[torrhen-manderly]

endure

a character challenge for @asongofgoldenfireandblackblood. additional character mention of @manderlypearl.

Lady Maisie Manderly had once told her lord husband that their firstborn son thrived off the life of others. Torrhen had heard his mother speak the words late one night while he wandered throughout New Castle, sneaking into the kitchens to grab a rare fig tart. He had been ten and three, while his younger sister Erena had been six. Her door had been his first when he slid a wrapped fig tart under the door, giving one to his brother Medrick when he returned to their shared room. His mother’s words met little to him than before the grey days had come, but now Torrhen Manderly understood that she had been right.

He had no connection to King’s Landing besides the feudal ties that had brought him here. He had come to swear loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen on behalf of his ailing father. The queen mourned her father, a thought that tormented him when it came to his mind. Desmond Manderly was the cornerstone of his house, and Torrhen was unsure if he could be the same. When he and Cregan Stark arrived in the capital, Torrhen had seen the new queen in spare moments. But the tone of the castle was not of festivity but of fear and paranoia. The Dragon Queen had been poisoned, and the court had been in an unsteady uproar. While a Northerner, Torrhen had heard undercurrents of rumors of unknown succession. Those rumors shook the castle to its very foundations. 

Anxiety seeped into his veins with each passing minute and conversation. It had been two days since the night of the poisoning, and as the Red Keep had been closed, his mood had only decreased. He joined many in the darkening attitude, not quite melancholy, but it crept ever closer. Now was not the time when he needed to prove himself in court for himself, his father, and his family. He would not be an unworthy son in such a time.

So Torrhen Manderly found himself slipping into his sister’s room once again. However, this time, he did not slink around New Castle but the royal seat. Erena had been his lighthouse since their childhood, home without home. When the melancholy beckoned, he ran to her. Erena was his reminder of life and its worth when all seemed a mistake or a loss. While the guards remained on edge, they recognized the easy smile of the Manderlly heir to let him inside the small chambers assigned to his sister. He padded in, his mind settling as he heard her soft hum before the window. Erena’s back was to him as he looked from the doorway, but he knew by the flick of her hand that she was at work. His sister was an artist, one of the finest he had seen.

Torrhen stood in the room's threshold, not entering but not leaving. Erena would know it was him. He would listen to or watch her paint for a time before eventually moving forward to speak with her. But it was enough to gather his thoughts and calm the flood of anxiety that rushed through him. Each stroke of paint hummed verse, and the bounce of Erena’s head soothed him. Torrhen would enjoy the small things in such a moment of strife, just as his younger sister did in the moment before him. The court would endure such an event, and the mood would lift, so Torrhen resolved to do the same.

[gotham-at-nightfall]

A few matters were still under discussion when King Aegon's nameday dawned at last. A great feast was to be held that night in the throne room, and the ancient Guild of Alchemists had promised displays of pyromancy such as the realm had never seen.

It was still morning, though, when King Aegon entered the council chambers where Lord Torrhen and the regents were debating whether or not to include Tumbleton on the progress.

Four knights of the Kingsguard accompanied the young king to council chambers. So did Sandog the Shadow, veiled and silent, carrying his great sword. His ominous presence cast a pall in the room. For a moment even Torrhen Manderly lost his tongue.

"Lord Manderly," King Aegon said, in the sudden stillness, pray tell me how old I am, if you would be so good!"

"You are ten-and-six today, Your Grace," Lord Manderly replied. "A man grown. It is time for you to take the governance of the Seven Kingdoms into your own hands."

"I shall," King Aegon said. "You are sitting in my chair”

King Aegon III ends his regency and takes control of the Seven Kingdoms!

[asoiafreadthru]

HOUSE STARK

The Starks trace their descent from Brandon the Builder and the ancient Kings of Winter.

For thousands of years, they ruled from Winterfell as Kings in the North, until Torrhen Stark, the King Who Knelt, chose to swear fealty to Aegon the Dragon rather than give battle.

Their blazon is a grey direwolf on an ice-white field.

The principal houses sworn to Winterfell are Karstark, Umber, Flint, Mormont, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Reed, Manderly, Glover, Tallhart, and Bolton.

The Stark words are Winter Is Coming.

[branwendaughterofllyr]

The dichotomy of me planning out the politics of “a poison tree” is ‘oh no, I wonder if this is too out of character for this person who appeared twice and had one line in F&B. :( Can I still use him or should I make up new character to serve my purpose?” Versus ‘this entire plot line for this house is dumb. I’m throwing the entire thing out and writing my own.’

[derangedthots]

"The Manderly brothers accompanied Rhaenyra when she fled the capital after the Storming of the Dragonpit. Medrick asked Rhaenyra to travel to White Harbor, but she insisted on sailing instead from Duskendale to Dragonstone on the Violande without the Manderlys."

- A Wiki of Ice and Fire

Very important to me that we all know this🥹

[sebeth]

TWOIAF/Fire & Blood: The Sistermen Rebellion

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

  Aegon has conquered Westeros – except for Dorne. The maesters proclaim the era of Aegon’s reign was one of peace – except for the first twenty years and the two years of conquest before his official coronation. That means 22 out of 39 years were spent in a form of warfare – not a great accomplishment.

Don’t mind me, I enjoy debunking the “Targaryen conquest/regime was the best thing to ever happen to Westeros” fairytale.  I’m not saying Westeros was better pre-Conquest, its simply a case of the Targaryen regime being an example of “meet the new boss, same as the old boss” – now with terrifying weapons of mass destruction.

“In the Bite, the lords of the Three Sisters had taken advantage of the chaos of Aegon’s Conquest to declare themselves a free nation and crown Lady Marla of House Sunderland their queen.”

What?! I have so many questions:

·         Who came up with this plan? It ranks up there with the “Defiance of Duskendale” on the “Stupid Ideas Doomed To Failure” scale.

·         Who are these unnamed lords who crowned Marla? What are their motivations?

·         Marla – Was she a mastermind behind the plot or a convenient puppet/scapegoat for when the plan fails?

·         Why did the lords crown Marla when she had a younger brother?

·         What made the lord think they would succeed in the aftermath of the Field of Fire?

Needless to say, Aegon wasn’t amused. The Arryn fleet had been destroyed in the Conquest, so Aegon contacted Torrhen Stark to handle the situation. Torrhen informed Aegon that warring with the Vale was a time-honored Northern tradition, no problem, he’s got this. And I’m sure, after the whole kneeling situation, the Northmen had some aggression they needed to get out of their systems – they marched all the way past the Neck and didn’t even get to throw one punch! An Umber has to Umber!

Torrhen hired a fleet of Braavosi galleys, filled the ship with Northmen, and ordered Ser Warrick Manderly to raise hell and put down the Sistermen’s Rebellion.

The master states the sight on the ships – along with Visenya and Vhagar approaching – caused the Sistermen to fold on the spot.

For the record, this is now the second time the Northmen have marched and not been able to punch someone. Outrageous!

No word on whether Aegon sent Visenya or if she joined the party out of sheer outrage for part of the Vale defying Targaryen authority after she handled the area with kid gloves.

The aftermath of the Rebellion is why I think Marla was more of a scapegoat than a mastermind: The Sistermen “promptly deposed Queen Marla in favor of her younger brother. Steffon Sunderland renewed his fealty to the Eyrie, bent the knee to Queen Visenya, and gave his sons over as hostages for his good behavior, one to be fostered with the Manderlys, the other with the Arryns.”

Marla was imprisoned, exiled, and after five years had her tongue removed and was sent to the Silent Sisters.

Why wait five years to remove her tongue? Where was Marla imprisoned (pre-Silent Sisters)? Who ordered her tongue removed? Why was House Sunderland allowed to remain in control of the Three Sisters – something the Targaryens and Arryns both allowed? Were the rest of the lords involved in the Rebellion punished? Did the lords honestly think they had a chance of succeeding?

Up next: The Iron Islands are in chaos! The Rise of the Greyjoys! Do the Northeners finally get to kill someone?

[adam-stark]

HOZIER & BEAR McCREARY — “BLOOD UPON THE SNOW”

To all things housed in her silence Nature offers a violence The bear that keeps to his own line The wolf that seeks always his own kind The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds

@owenstark, @rosaaaryn, @allysannestark, @cassvstark, @torrhen-stark, @wintervsuns, @sarra-karstark, @northernseer, @anya-snow, @rhydianwildbear, @jin-renshu & @nasirofmanderlys

[horizon-verizon]

It was still morning, though, when King Aegon entered the council chambers where Lord Torrhen and the regents were debating whether or not to include Tumbleton on the progress. Four knights of the Kingsguard accompanied the young king to the council chambers. So did Sandoq the Shadow, veiled and silent, carrying his great sword. His ominous presence cast a pall in the room. For a moment even Torrhen Manderly lost his tongue. “Lord Manderly,” King Aegon said, in the sudden stillness, “pray tell me how old I am, if you would be so good.” “You are ten-and-six today, Your Grace,” Lord Manderly replied. “A man grown. It is time for you to take the governance of the Seven Kingdoms into your own hands.” “I shall,” King Aegon said. “You are sitting in my chair.” The coldness in his tone took every man in the room aback, Grand Maester Munkun would write years later. Confused and shaken, Torrhen Manderly prised his considerable bulk out of the chair at the head of the council table, with an uneasy glance at Sandoq the Shadow. As he held the chair for the king, he said, “Your Grace, we were speaking of the progress—” “There will be no progress,” the king declared, as he was seated. “I will not spend a year upon a horse, sleeping in strange beds and trading empty courtesies with drunken lords, half of whom would gladly see me dead if it gained them a groat. If any man requires words with me, he will find me on the Iron Throne.” Torrhen Manderly persisted. “Sire,” he said, “this progress would do much and more to win you the love of the smallfolk.” “I mean to give the smallfolk peace and food and justice. If that will not suffice to win their love, let Mushroom make a progress. Or perhaps we might send a dancing bear. Someone once told me that the commons love nothing half so much as dancing bears. You may call a halt to this feast tonight as well. Send the lords home to their own keeps and give the food to the hungry. Full bellies and dancing bears shall be my policy.” Then Aegon turned to the three regents. “Lord Stackspear, Lord Grandison, Lord Merryweather, I thank you for your service. Consider yourselves free to go. I shall have no further need of regents.” “And will Your Grace have need of a Hand?” asked Lord Manderly. “A king should have a Hand of his own choosing,” said Aegon III, rising to his feet. “You have served me well, no doubt, as you served my mother before me, but it was my lords who chose you. You may return to White Harbor.”

Fire and Blood, by George R.R. Martin, pg 703-705

[cregansdingdong]

dingdong hear me out, cregan and reader going through the honeymoon stage of their marriage in winterfell where he just cant get off her and they get it on (she gets on should i say 😜) EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. im talking in the stables just out of earshot of the lords in the courtyard, in the wolfswood surrounded by the beautiful northern countryside, in the council chambers, on the table, EVERYWHERE. I KNOW this man gets hot knowing anyone could catch them and that they couldn’t do anything about it because he is their lord. PLEASE GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

- fellow cregan worshipping anon xo

I HAVE THOUGHTS. THE GEARS ARE TURNING. I FEEL THEM TURNING. SEND HELP ANON.

Let's get something perfectly clear, my beloved, the honeymoon stage never ends with Cregan. Now, it might slow down after the birth of a few kiddos ten but in no way, shape, or form will your Lord Wolf ever be satisfied. That being said, you have my prayers, sorrows, and congratulations also my envy ofc if you both are ever caught getting your freak on. It's gonna go a little something like this...

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

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"We're going to—"

"I don't care." He grunts. Skirts lifted up the curve of her ass, his hips rutting into her at a pace desperate enough to bruise. They were both frantic, fucking like it was their last day alive. The council room was empty—which it usually was; only really filled when Cregan felt the need to call on his vassals. If it had been a regular day, Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

His wife presses her cheek down on the table, holding onto the oak edges for dear life, mewling of course, as he rocked into her like a man possessed. Controlled entirely by his need, by her whines for him, Cregan thought he could die a happy man right there in her snug cunt. He could. He wanted to, in a way, the last sensations in the living world being her velvety walls, clenching around him with every swift thrust.

They were loud as they always were—unintentionally. It was too good to remember any restraint. Not that it mattered to the Lord Wolf, he was the Lord paramount of the North. Who was going to tell him he couldn't make love with his wife? No one, but he could at least make an effort to lock the door first. Rabid grunts and the sound of his hefty balls slapping against her flooded the corridor as the entrance to the council room was opened. "Seven Hells—"

His bannermen. His vassals. The meeting. Gods. He forgot about the meeting. Torrhen Manderly turned right back around, narrowly avoiding whatever it was that Cregan flung towards the door—thankfully fast enough to stop the other men from following in after him. "Get out!" The door was promptly slammed shut, right as his wife lifted her head from the table, face flushed red in mortification. "Were we just cau—fuck!" Lord Stark still didn't care, reaching around to rub at her pretty clit as his cock resumed pistoning against her ass. And as she came for at least the third time that morning, the realization of getting caught was quickly erased from the front of her mind, Cregan's teeth latching on to the curve of her shoulder as he chased his release.

okay I can't help myself so here's a bonus bit:

Redressed and thoroughly embarrassed some twenty minutes later, Lady Stark emerges from the council room, expecting her handmaiden to be waiting—no. Gods. They'd waited. They'd actually waited. Seven bannermen, each one avoiding her eye more than the last, probably in an attempt to maintain whatever was left of her dignity. They made not a single sound as she walked sprinted by, nodding stiffly in respect to their Lady.

Cregan, however, did not share that same sentiment. Satisfied for the moment, smug, and seated lazily at the head of the table, legs spread comfortably as he sat back against his chair. He exhaled quietly through his nose once his vassals entered the room, the smallest of smirks written on his face that said more than his mouth ever could. "Where did we leave off last time?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[stromuprisahat]

The king’s sixteenth nameday was drawing near. With the realm at peace, and spring in full flower, Lord Torrhen Manderly decided that King Aegon and Queen Daenaera should make a royal progress to mark his coming of age. ... Lady Rhaena’s desire to accompany the progress on her dragon was delicately deflected, whilst her sister Baela declared that she would come along whether she was wanted or not. 

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

Rhaena: "A progress! How splendid! I could accompany you on my dragon!"

Baela: "I'm coming with you. End of discussion."

[lady-corrine]

Saying that book Rhaenyra always had an arc of "going mad and incredibly cruel" is how I know that you either did not read the book or if you did you have no reading comprehension and take things completely out of context:

Was Rhaenyra the one that first turned against Addam and Nettles? No, those were voices on the black council. Did Rhaenyra call bastards treacherous by nature? No, that was Bartimos Celtigar. Did Rhaenyra want to seize Addam and Nettles? No, that was Bartimos Celtigar, followed by several others: Luthor Largent, Lorent Marbrand, Medrick Manderly and his brother Torrhen who all "urged the queen to mistrust". Did Rhaenyra act at once even after 5 men urged her to seize them? No, she called for Mysaria, who actively fuels her paranoia. Can we be certain that's what Rhaenyra truly said/responded? No, that's what Eustace writes she said.

"Rhaenyra always had a tyrant arc" except she didn't, not if you actually read with your eyes open and your brain functioning.

[lullaebies]

For Aegon III/Jaehaera's requests: Aegon being nervous because Haera is having their first child and heir after a decade.

He can hear her screams of pain from behind the doors of their shared chambers.

He starts to pray the gods, despite Baela and Viserys' tentative reassurances then Haera calls for him and Aegon's feets lead him in front of the doors; the guards try to stop him and he orders them to not touch him.

They woke the dragon and the dragon will be protective of his mate and hatchlings.

When he enters, he is quick to be by Jaehaera's side

"My king you shouldn't-"

"I can and I will"

They had their baby boy🥺 and you bet that Aegon cries for the first time out of happiness, then Haera is there like: "Give him to me! he's mine!"

And doesn't allow anyone to touch their baby and you vet Aegon will wash his baby boy, much to the horror and amusement of the masters, midwives and Aegon's siblings

Aegon paces around the hallway in an attempt to calm down. He has been banned from his bedchambers for the better of half an hour now.  The Grand Maester and his accompanying midwives have tended his wife as she gave birth to her firstborn; their firstborn.

He is not a religious man, by any means of the word, but he prays under his breath. The gods had long forsaken him, laughing as they planted him on a throne of swords that had cost him nearby everything. But his wife had a woman of more faith, despite all she had been through herself. If the Seven are true to them, they would protect her.

Aegon hopes so, begs so, his stomach turning up and down. The toll of the birthing is clearly heard beyond the doors that separate them. Jaehaera is eight and ten, and they both grew plenty since their wedding, but she has remained a smaller woman to this day. Her pregnant belly had been big for her frame, he can’t help the dark thoughts his mind leads him to.

“You are going to have to breathe, dear brother,” Viserys tells him. “Births do not ever sound pleasant. This is a fact of life.”

Yet they never sounded so difficult for Larra, either, he wants to say, but he only frowns. If it wasn’t for the fact Lady Larra Rogare had left court a year prior, he may have said it aloud. Little Aegon, Aemon, and Naerys were left alone with only their father. The pit in Aegon’s stomach grows exponentially. This is a possibility, for Aegon too, and he had never trusted his odds.

Baela takes him by the shoulder. If it wasn’t his sister, he may very well flung that hand away. “You are going to look more dreadful than your wife when she gets out of that room,” she says straight to his face. “Calm down. I have done as much twice. Rhaena had done so six times. Your little wife will manage, she’s resilient, for all it’s worth.”

She’s neither you nor Rhaena. Resilient Jaehaera had been, but it hasn’t been without struggles. Aegon doubts she had ever said as much to anyone else but him, but this court had been a lonely place for her besides for him. She’s been changing it, step by step, and now labouring to change it definitively, but how alone must she feel in that room? 

Another pained wail comes from within the room. I can’t take it anymore.

“I am entering,” he finally says, escaping his sister’s grip. There are protests from all sides when he steps away from his siblings and to his Kingsguards. The bumbling fools in their white capes move to not allow him to enter, citing the instructions of the Maester, but he glares them down. He’s a full head taller than both, with a crown on his head. He has abandoned the days the Keep could rule him when he fired Lord Torrhen Manderly. “You serve the maester or the King, now? Move aside, or else.” 

The doors to the room open for him while Jaehaera is pushing, forehead wrinkled and sweatied as she does. All her attendants turn to him, but he ignores them and their words entirely.  Aegon only needs a few long steps to reach his wife, sitting beside her on their very bed. 

Jaehaera lifts her eyes to him, panting as he wipes her forehead and moves silver strands from her red-hued face. Grand Maester Munkun swallows as he moves to him. “Your Grace, you shouldn’t like to stay. Births are stressful occasions—”

Aegon does not listen to a thing the man says. “Aegon,” Jaehaera pants, fingers coming to clutch his sleeve. He gives her his full palm to squeeze. 

“—To both parents…” The Grand Maester slowly falters in his words.

“As I’ve noted,” Aegon answers, cutthroat. “I can stay and I will. Now mind your Queen before I find someone who does.”

The old man gulps in response, and scurries to his seat at the edge of the bed nodding. Aegon fixes the pillows under his wife’s head. The calls to push are difficult on his wife for a while, and he feels her using all her strength, the squeeze on his hand a testament to all her efforts.

Their child’s cradle is ready, standing by the window and illuminated by the sun. So many blankets woven for a child not yet born are laid within. Jaehaera had been waiting on the babe for so long, talking to her belly at times even, hoping the little one would hear. 

In comparison, Aegon had been almost afraid. He had worried and angered and anxiously dealt with the idea of a child coming under his wing. Broken wings, by most accounts. He has never known how his siblings had been able to heal the way they were, raising their own family in swift pursuit. Jaehaera’s losses, his losses, had made them become ghosts in the shells of their bodies for the longest while.

But he had grown into this shell, just as he had grown into his crown, and now it is their turn to rebuild. 

Jaehaera lets out a sharp yelp of pain, and Grand Maester Munkun lifts his head. “The babe is crowning,” he looks to the midwives. “Prepare the bath!”

Aegon squeezes his wife’s hand harder. Jaehaera’s eyes are bleary from tears of effort, but he feels he is the one who is in whirls of uncontrollable emotions. Jaehaera inhales in determination, readjusts her position and groans loudly one last time.

A babe’s cries deafen all other voices in the room. 

“It’s a boy,” Munkun announces to the room amidst cries of new life, and then looks at him. “A  healthy prince, Your Grace. An heir for the Iron Throne.”

Grand Maester Munkun is holding their son. Aegon doesn’t know how long he has been waiting on letting his tears fall. It could be from the moment he has been told Jaehaera’s water broke, and it could be from moons prior, when he had been first told Jaehaera is with child. There is some spell cast on him when he sees his boy writhe for attention, tufts of silver hair sticking to his head. It’s my…

The umbilical cord is cut, Jaehaera, despite her pain and fatigue, rises into half-sitting in a bolt. “He’s mine,” she yells at the Grand Maester, paralysing all attendants in the room. Queen Jaehaera, as the court knows her, hardly ever raises her voice. “Give him to me!” 

It’s their boy, first. Before he is an heir, before he is thrust into his royal position, it’s their son.

Aegon comes up from his place, and takes his son from Grand Maester Munkun before he could give him to any of the midwives. He is a big baby, eyeing Aegon with a stare of indigo. He has small, pouty lips, and squishy cheeks as red as all of his body is.

“Our son,” he says, placing the boy in her arms. Jaehaera holds him close to her chest, and finally, the stress on her face dissipates. Tears escape her eyes, but she smiles so widely. “He has your nose.”

“Hello. I am your mama,” she tells the newborn softly. The babe’s cries calm as they speak. Aegon brings a hand to caress his face. Does he recognize their voices? Aegon hasn’t spoken to him during the pregnancy as much as Jaehaera, but the nights he did, does the boy recall them? Aegon had been so afraid for his upcoming arrival, but now he has him and he can’t look away. “And this is your papa.”

It’s my family. 

And he loves it, so dearly, he will never let it go.

“Congratulations, little brother, and good sister,” he hears Baela’s voice from behind him. Both her and Jaehaera look up to her. His sister is mindful of their space, but ogles the little boy with a grin. Viserys is further back, trying to catch a glimpse of the child too. “The midwives are afraid to ruin the moment, so I must. Our prince needs to have his first bath before the water grows cold.”

Jaehaera licks her lips, rather hesitant to give the boy away. They share their reservations with only their eyes. Aegon thinks for a moment and kisses his wife’s temple before looking at all the attendants in the room. “Bring the bath here. I’ll do it.”

There are many variations of his title that come about in exclamation. ‘Your Grace’, ‘Your Highness’, ‘Your Majesty’ and so on and so forth, all complaints and concerns and whatnot. None of it matters, not even a smidge, when Jaehaera smiles at him, and gives him their boy in full trust. He holds him, swearing his arms would be secure for the boy evermore.

Because I am your father, above all else.