HOTD: The Healer Prince SI Chapter 62 (Patreon)

EPILOGUE-1

AENYS TARGARYEN

Dragonstone had changed little since he had last been on the island. The island was sullen and quiet as it had been its hot and humid environment much suited to the Targaryen lineage.

As the realm recovered from the death of Daemon Targaryen, the King would become bedridden from illness, and the news would shake the realm for it would put to front of the mind the reality that soon enough King Viserys shall leave the realm and a Queen shall sit the Iron Throne.

Yet there was still time, and so as moons passed and Rhaenyra and Alicent’s bellies grew, it was decided that they would relocate to Dragonstone, on his advice, given that the environment was simply calmer and conducive to giving birth.

Yet even he had not been prepared for the scenario he found himself in as he stood infront of a screaming Rhaenyra surrounded by healers and equipment, the best of what the times could offer as the Princess’s labors progressed.

“AHHHHHH!” she screamed as the wet nurses encouraged her, yet the babe refused to come.

“I cannot, I cannot,” she huffed as her nails bit into his hands, her hair matted to her face with sweat as she shook her head.

“You can, just one more push, one more,” he encouraged lovingly as he looked her in the eye, and she nodded, taking in a deep breath as she screamed once more.

And he felt the elevation in her torso shift as he heard the wetnurse speak.

“I can see the head,” and relief filled him, as Rhaenyra huffed weakly, as tears dripped down her face.

Yet the relief was short-lived as the doors to the birthing chamber were slammed open.

“WHO IS I...” yet he stilled, as he saw the person standing there. His face marred by burns, a face too similar to his own with a blade in hand and Alicent’s helpless face staring at him with red eyes as he spoke.

“Daemon,” he gasped out in shock as his brother held a blade to his wife’s neck.

“I have come for reveng...”

“No,” Aenys screamed as he saw the blade move.

.

.

.

“ARGH!” yet the blood never came as his vision shifted, and he found himself away from the birthing Halls and inside his solar, sitting on a chair with a weight on his chest.

His heart thumped as he glanced down and recognized the silvery bundle lying on his chest. Thankfully, even in his sleep, he had kept a secure hold on the newborn.

“She sleeps so easily in your arms,” an all too familiar voice rang out. The same voice had been screaming moments ago in his dreams, yet this time it was much calmer and simpler as he looked up and found Rhaenyra sitting there beside his own lady wife both of them sitting there, the bulges in their belly gone as they sipped tea.

And he ground himself as he carefully shifted the babe to his other arm, for his right arm had begun to ache lightly.

Many a moon had passed since he had visited Viserys, and then days afterward, it had been decided that they would move to Dragonstone for Rhaenyra’s birth. A suggestion of his own, given the sheer statistical odds of a safer delivery on their families' ancestral island in comparison to the Red Keep.

And after nine moons, the Princess had finally gone into labor about a moon ago, under his own watchful eye. The most advanced equipment, medications, and instruments had been prepared for her, and plans had been drawn for every unwonted scenario. Yet the Gods had rendered them useless, for except for a somewhat prolonged labor, the whole process had been gone without a hitch, and Princess Aemma had been born into the world with a very loud cry.

He had been relieved until word had reached him that his own wife’s labors had begun seconds later, and he had then rushed to her side, though thankfully, there had not been much to worry about there as well, and she would give birth to a daughter. Princess Magella would enter the world with a much weaker cry but be blessed with full health.

And of the two, it was Princess Aemma who found him to be the perfect bed.

“Sometimes, I think the Princesses were swapped at birth,” Rhaenyra joked as she smiled indulgently at her little daughter, who lay atop him.

“If they had the same color of hair, they could have passed off as one another,” his lady wife added. And she was right, as he looked down at the silvery locks of Aemma.

Princess Aemma had been born with her namesake’s hair and features. She resembled the late Queen in all her features, except her vocal cords for Aemma Arryn was said to be a very quiet babe unlike the Princess in his arms, whose cries had oft woken up the castle.

On the other hand, Maegella Targaryen shared much of the Targaryen features except the hair, for she had inherited her mother’s brown locks, and from what it seemed like, she had inherited her namesake’s demeanor for being agreeable and gentle.

“How long was I asleep for?” he questioned as he turned towards the balcony, and once he saw the setting Sun.

“We came in here an hour ago, so it would have to be a bit longer than that,” Alicent added and he nodded, that was his estimate as well.

“And what were the two of you doing here for an hour?” he asked as he handed the babe to a servant gently.

“Talking,” they both answered together as one, and he was sure it was more than that.

“About what?” he probed, and the two exchanged glances before a letter was put forth on the table, its seal broken.

“This came from the Vale earlier,” spoke Rhaenyra, her tone indulgent as she eyed Alicent by her side, who had a faint blush on her face.

“What does it say?” he asked even as he picked it up to skim over it.

“Ohh, nothing much,” Rhaenyra began, her tone childish and flirtatious.

“...just that the Lady Jeyne tells how the Pirate infestation of their shores has been eradicated through your support and how she wishes to thank you and Lady Alicent...” she said, and he closed his eyes as he felt a small headache coming.

“...personally!”  she finished.

He rolled his eyes; Lady Jeyne’s overtures were not lost on him and Alicent, to whom the Lady of the Vale had gone quite close over their stay together. Both became pen pals and exchanged letters with each other on a regular basis.

He, of course, had never discouraged Alicent from seeking friends, but Jeyne’s intentions were not just to be friends with either of them.

“Do not speak ill of her, and she is set to marry soon?” Alicent added weakly, and Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.

The Lady Jeyne of House Arryn had been in the capital when the Dance of the Dragon had happened, and she had stayed there for moons afterward as the realm reeled from the consequences of that sordid affair. In the meantime, she also found a husband, a Laenor Velaryon, for herself.

With this match, her intentions were not lost to anyone, and after the announcement, she had only gotten bolder in her pursuit of both him and his lady wife.

Much has happened since then. House Baratheon had had its taxes doubled, like House Tyrell's, and a few smaller houses had found themselves beggared over the ensuing moons as he unleashed his fury upon them. As for House Velaryon, Corlys Velaryon and Rhaenys had parted ways, their marriage had been annulled.

Aenys himself had thought the man would push for the seat to pass to his illegitimate children, yet somehow the man had been counselled against it, and so Laenor Vealryon remained the heir, thankfully for High Tide; otherwise, he would not have hesitated to beggar the whole city to retaliate. And now the Sea Snake had locked himself in his castle and was said to drown himself from dawn to dusk, yet it was all too late.

Official matters aside, unofficially, many houses had gone extinct in these moons as well, for they had conspired to have both him and Rhaenyra unfit to rule for the crime of kinslaying. The Game of Thrones was ruthless, and they had all learned it the hard way, paying for their treachery with their lives.

Even now, tongues wagged against Rhaenyra’s claim, for her firstborn was a girl as he waited for all of these traitors to come out of their bills so that he could quash them all at once. And it was all much easier now, for though Lord Strong acted as the Hand Aenys had full power and could ask the man to do what he wished.

He stayed out of the ruling part until Rhaenyra was to ascend out of respect for the man, yet that did not mean that he was not in control.

“You failed to mention how the lady mentions you in very flowery terms as well, my Princess,” he remarked as he threw back the letter.

“She may, but we all know it is you she is after,” added Rhaenyra before eying Alicent.

“And my dear Alicent,” she added in a jest, and Aenys shook his head.

“Any word from the Stepstones?” Alicent asked, unsure if shifting the conversation away from this scandalous topic would work. He nodded.

“Yes, half the negotiations are complete. Until we are to reach a full agreement, the ships passing through the crossing shall pay a fair toll, we will man the islands and ensure the safety of these ships, the rest will be decided slowly,” he added, and that was expected the Stepstones were too complicated to hold with an Iron Fist, they needed to be diplomatic and fair to hold them.

“That is good. Peace in the Stepstones will allow trade to flourish. The conflicts there have caused much loss,” Rhaenyra added, and she would know, for he was teaching her everything there was to learn about ruling these days.

Her days were oft spent following him, going over ledgers, meeting delegates, and studying for when she was to take over the throne. She was a good student with a brilliant mind and would progress rather quickly if not for her penchant for gossiping and wasting time with Alicent.

“So, have you gone over all of the Crown’s agreements with Bravos and the other free cities,” he questioned and saw Rhaenyra’s mood dampen the fickle smile telling him of the answer before she mouthed it.

“Maybe...” and when her eyes narrowed, she added.

“...maybe not,” she said, and he shook his head, yet he let her have it. These were troubling times.

“But it was because of Aemma. she refused to sleep the whole day because you were away with Grey Ghost,” she argued quickly, and indeed, he had been away.

After the battle, his dragon suffered many injuries, and after months of care, he finally recovered back to full health. Aenys missed flying on his dragon and decided to take it to the skies in the morning.

“She speaks the truth. Aemma was inconsolable the whole day; she only settled down once you returned,” Alicent piped up in support, and he knew they were not lying; the relief on the servant's faces when he had walked back into the castle had been answering enough.

“For some odd reason, the only one who could get her to sleep is you,” Rhaenyra whined, and it was an anomaly that was lost to him as well.

“And you indulge her,” Alicnet complains, and he raises his hand.

“What am I to do? Maegella prefers to play with you,” he said, pointing towards Rhaenyra.

“Of course she should. I am her Aunt,” and he shook his head, though before he could retort, a knock on the door interrupted them as dragons roared as one, and he felt himself still. And he was not the only one. He saw Rhaenyra’s demeanor shift as the whole island shook and the dragons roared into the sky.

“Come in,” he said, and a servant entered the solar and bowed as he said the ominous words.

“A missive arrived from the capital...” and Rhaenyra gasped before the words left the servant's mouth.

“...the King is Dead!”

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