moonlight10
patreon
GOT : Chapter 190
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 09:51:00 +0000 UTC
"The Valemen are mostly untouched, it is true, but they are in a difficult position. Lord Arryn's word is not law, he is contested. I am as well, it is true, but the Ullers are a voice drowned out by the others. Unfortunately, the young Lord Arryn is more engaged in a shouting match."
"And Lord Tully dislikes him," Arianne added.
...
"You have the right of it." Quentyn pointed at her as if she had won some prize. "Lord Tully will make sure that Lord Arryn can never enjoy total control of the Vale, or make sure that it never rises high."
"How about Lord Tully, then? Or the new Lord Lannister?"
"Believe me, sister, the Lannisters will be too busy with putting down Ironborn revolts than anything else. To them, the dragons sold their lands to the Tullys when they had never been conquered." Quentyn shook his head. "As for Lord Tully, he would rather see your husband wearing that crown that Aegon has."
"Careful, Quentyn, this is nearing treason," she warned.
"Is it treason to speak the truth?" Quentyn questioned. "Come on, dear sister, you must see that Lord Tully does not like the Targaryens more than anyone else here. He only reluctantly bent the knee, and that was because the Handship could offer him a lot. If another candidate rises for the throne, and gives him the same deal, who is to say he will not rise for him?"
"Lord Tully is an honorable man, he would not turn."
"Even for Jon?" Quentyn asked. "Allow me to doubt it. No, sister, I am still the dragons' greatest ally. To make me an enemy would be foolish at this hour. They need to build alliances, and this will take years. And when they can finally discard Dorne, well…"
Quentyn stayed silent for a moment.
"Well, at that point, I believe I will have little use for the Seven Kingdoms, either. Still, an oath is an oath. I will never go against the Targaryens as long as they do not go against me. I swore that much in Sunspear and I do plan on upholding it."
Arianne narrowed her eyes, seeing the determined look in her brother.
"You tread a fine line, brother." Arianne sighed. "But as long as Dorne benefits, you will see no complaints from me. I only wish that your wife will not strangle you in your sleep."
"Margaery?" Quentyn raised an eyebrow. "I saved her life, I do not think that she would turn on me like this."
"Nymeria approved of it?" she asked.
"Why do you think I asked Jennelyn to come be the treasurer of Sunspear?" Quentyn questioned in turn.
"Smart," Arianne conceded. "Do you think the Tyrell girl will do the job? She does not stand out as your type."
"I don't need a type. She's pretty, smart, and does not care about me and Nym's situation. That is all I care about." Quentyn shrugged. "Yes, I am not very attracted to her, you know what my type is. But do I care? No."
Arianne laid back in her chair, holding her belly. She had started to feel cramps, nothing uncomfortable, but still enough to distract her.
"As long as you are happy, brother…"
"I will be, hopefully, when this last war is won…" Quentyn sighed, taking another sip of his tea.
"And if it is not? If the dead overrun the North?" Arianne asked, her heart filling up with a sense of dread.
"I have ordered the Boneway and the Prince's Pass to be blocked. By anything you can find. Block them, and pray that they hold…" Quentyn sighed.
Arianne picked up a biscuit, more to have something to hold than to eat at that moment. If she was focused on her hands it was easier to avoid thinking about how annoying the rest of her body was being.
"You do not seem optimistic."
"If the dead overrun the North, they will flood south, and add millions into their army of the dead. Dorne will be overrun. If the North falls, we all fall." Her brother looked down. "I would rather not think of what would happen if we lost, because it is too dark to even suggest. To me, it is not a matter of if we win the war, but when and how much we sacrifice for it."
"I would drink to your optimism, brother, it is not one that Jon shares…" she shook her head.
"If I had to fight off hordes of the dead, I would perhaps also think the same," Quentyn agreed. "But we do have the dragons, and the full force of all Seven Kingdoms, when the ones who fought the first War for the Dawn had no dragons and only disunited kingdoms to fight against the threat. We should win this fight."
"Should, should…" Arianne sighed as she fought off the cramps in her body.
"I would want to be more reassuring, but I fear I cannot be, sister." Quentyn shook his head. "All I can do is hope that the forces of the Seven Kingdoms face this together. And we are not alone. The Wildlings are here to fight with us, the Braavosi have also sent part of their fleet and men, some Lorathi have also disembarked at White Harbor…"
"Hmmm…" Arianne nodded, trying to straighten in her chair. These cramps were getting annoying.
"Are you alright, Arianne?" he asked.
"Fine, fine…just some cramps," Arianne answered, returning the useless biscuit to the plate beside her.
"I'll get a midwife." Quentyn immediately stood up and pulled the curtain, calling up two women who were patiently waiting in the other room.
They rushed to her, faster than she'd seen anyone dash across a room, and went to hold her.
"I am fine," Arianne almost growled. "Just some cramps, that is all."
"You might be going into labor, Princess…" one of them warned.
"Nonsense, I feel fine." Arianne shook her head.
"I will bring more cushions and a towel to be safe," the second woman said before rushing to the back of the room. when
Suddenly, a massive jolt of pain ran through Arianne's body. "Shit!"
"Princess!" The first woman immediately grabbed her hand. "You are delivering."
"I am not." Arianne winced. "My water has not broken. It is just cramps."
"Your water will not break until later." The woman turned to Quentyn. "My Prince, I will ask you to leave."
"No!" Arianne cried out. "He stays."
"Princess, I need to work," the woman warned.
"She is right, Ari, I need to give you both space," Quentyn agreed.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, brother, stop being a whiny child and help me here!" Arianne lashed out.
"Fine, I'll stay." Quentyn sighed. "But I will not impede on any of the midwives' work."
"Where are you going?" Arianne asked as she saw Quentyn walking away.
"I'm not your husband!" Quentyn shot back. "I'm getting Jon, I'll be back in a moment!"
"Bring Tyene and Nym!" she shouted back.
"I'll do my beeeeeeee…" Quentyn's voice faded into the background, as she heard the sound of a door slamming shut.
"For fuck's sake…" Arianne sighed as she felt another jolt of pain going through her body. Her breath was cut, as if she had been forced underwater.
"Breathe, Princess," the midwife warned. "You need to breathe. Your body will tell you to hold your breath. You cannot follow it, do you understand?"
Arianne nodded and exhaled, but immediately the sensation of something gripping her lungs forced her to hold her breath again.
"Breathe, Princess, breathe."
The midwife's words helped her as she almost stood up in her chair.
"Is it coming?" she asked.
"You are going into labor," the midwife answered as the second woman came back with pillows while a third came to assist.
"We must get you into a better position," one of the midwives said, to which the others agreed.
The third woman rushed to the other side of the room, and ran with a birthing chair in her arms. Using the two midwives as support, Arianne managed to drag herself out of her chair, and sat down into the birthing device, carefully putting her feet on the footrests.
The midwives gave her cushions for her comfort, and encouraged her to continue breathing.
Arianne looked down, and, to her horror, saw blood.
"This is normal, Princess." One of the midwives put a hand on her shoulder. "There will be some blood. Be strong, breathe. That is the most important thing."
Arianne nodded, but her face had gone pale. She struggled to breathe, until a familiar voice made itself heard.
"Ari! Ari, I'm here."
Arianne looked to her left, and saw Jon's dark brown curls in her hazy field of vision. She smiled again, and looked at him.
Jon extended his hand, offering it to her. She grabbed it faster than she could have ever imagined, clutching it with such force she dimly wondered if she'd break it.
She then heard the midwives again.
"The others, please clear the space, let us work!"
She saw that Quentyn, Nym and Tyene were all there, waiting in anguish, but all obeyed and stepped back, leaving only Jon at her side.
"Princess, you will have to push whenever you feel cramps, do you understand?" One of the women asked.
Arianne did not have the strength to reply, but did manage a nod.
Another female voice came in, encouraging her. "Focus, Princess, focus." As she felt a cramp, she started pushing, feeling the pain come through. She did not scream, since something strangled her lungs, forcing her to hold her breath.
"Breathe, Princess! Push and breathe!" A midwife encouraged her.
Arianne grunted and pushed again, inhaling a large gasp of air.
The cramp stopped, and a stab of pain rushed through her body. She saw blood once again, and panicked.
"You're doing great, love. Keep pushing, keep breathing," Jon whispered.
"Blood…" Arianne made out, exhaling deeply. "There's blood…"
"Everyone bleeds, Princess." the head midwife shouted. "Continue pushing, the Prince is right, you are doing very well!"
Another cramp went through her and she immediately pushed with all her might, exhaling immensely, making a horrid face as she did so.
The ordeal lasted for a while. With every push, every cramp, she became more used to the pain, more used to the breathing pattern she had been taught to use. Soon, it went from pain to hindrance, and from hindrance to almost comical normality.
Water had replaced the blood pooling at her feet, and the ballet of pillows to keep her comfortable continued. All the while, she did not let go of Jon's hand, and he did not make any motion to release it, either.
Each end of the cramps was a welcome respite, when the pain subsided for a moment, leaving her a moment to breathe slowly, catching her breath, before another cramp came in and took her.
The midwives told her that each cramp lasted a little less than each break, but to her each cramp lasted for hours while each break only lasted for a few jubilant moments.
Arianne felt another wave passing through her, and, almost as if she were trained to do so, pushed once more.
A cry could be heard. Not hers, but one of the midwives.
"I can see the head!" she shouted. "Come on, Princess, you are nearly there!"
This gave Arianne some more motivation. The ordeal was almost over. She pushed with all her might, trying to get the babe out.
"It's coming. It's coming!"
The cramps were almost unbearable, but, suddenly, everything stopped, and she felt a weight torn from her insides, immediately pushing herself back into her birthing chair, exhausted.
"Is it…is it done?" Arianne asked.
"You were very brave, my love." Jon kissed her hand.
"It's a boy, Princess. A lovely little boy," one of the midwives said.
"Can I see him?" Arianne asked.
"He doesn't look like anything…" Jon said as she was handed the babe.
Indeed, it looked nothing like one of the little babes that she had seen in the Gardens. It was small and wrinkled, and almost inhuman. The midwives placed it close to her chest, so she could feel it.
"Is it…fine?" Arianne asked with a sense of dread.
"All babes look like this when they are born, Princess." One of the midwives took her child away from her. "We will let him rest, and he will look perfectly fine. We should get you ready for the afterbirth."
"The afterbirth?" Arianne panted.
"We will need to get the grey shield from your…insides," one of the midwives warned. "You have done the hard part, though, do not worry."
It indeed did not take long for the 'grey shield' to come out. A few more pushes and some help from the midwife helped extract an ugly, grey, circle made of meat, to which the babe was attached.
With this done, Arianne sunk back into the birthing chair, seeking a moment of sleep.
Arianne felt tears running down her cheeks, releasing so much pent up pain after the ordeal. A midwife handed her towels and linens to wipe herself with.
Needless to say, she did not want to see the state of whatever was under the chair. The smell was enough of an indication.
Arianne rested back in her chair, while midwives checked her everywhere, giving her chest massages in order to help her relax.
"The babe is perfectly healthy, Princess." One of the midwives smiled widely at Arianne, handing her back her boy. "And you are as well."
"You must rest for a month, now, Princess," another one warned.
Arianne heeded their words, but only wanted to look at her babe. She held him close, and watched him open his eyes, his purple eyes. It was then that she noticed the babe's hair.
Silver, almost white.
Jon came closer to her and looked at the babe in turn, eventually stepping close to her to feel its skin.
Arianne's tears dried up, and her crying turned to laughter. She laughed so much that Jon, her family and the midwives might have called her crazy.
"Jon," she whispered. "What should we call him?"
Jon thought for a moment, and smiled at her.
"He looks just like a Targaryen. I only knew one who I admired." Jon looked silently at the babe for a few moments, and turned to her.
"How does Aemon sound to you?"
"Aemon." Arianne nodded. "A good name. Unblemished."
"Our little Aemon." Jon laughed. "For one of the greatest men I've ever met."
"For the Dragonknight, too." Arianne smiled. "And it will shut the Queen up."
"Ari…" Jon half-laughed.
Arianne looked at her babe and his silver hair. She closed her eyes and smiled widely. She would need to believe in a world where she could raise Aemon to be as wise as the Maester and as brave as the Dragonknight.
But for that, as Quentyn had said, she couldn't let her mind fill with dark thoughts.
No, he was right. It was not a matter of if they could win against the dead, but when.
