In the Queen's chamber, the night air hung thick with the scent of burning candles and steaming water.
Queen Aemma herself sat half-submerged in her bath, her skin faintly flushed from the heat that the maesters insisted must not go higher.
The chamber was quiet but for the crackling of the flames against wax… and the faint rippling of water when she shifted.
Then King Viserys entered, looking worn but still hearty, even when his back is heavy from a day's worth of council and diagnosis.
And the maesters had prodded at his wound again and again, whispering of rot that refused to heal.
Nevertheless, he eased himself beside the bath, gazing at her with a tired sort of fondness.
"You spend more time in that bath than I do on the throne." He said, his tone light and jovial.
Aemma barely glanced at him. "This is the only place I can find comfort these days."
He dipped his hand into the water and frowned. "It's tepid."
"It's as warm as the maesters will allow." She replied.
"Don't they know dragons prefer heat?"
Aemma gave a soft laugh, though her eyes looked distant. "After this miserable pregnancy, I wouldn't be surprised if I hatched an actual dragon."
"Then he will be loved and cherished." Viserys said, lifting her hand and kissing it gently.
"Rhaenyra has already declared she is to have a sister," Aemma said.
"Really?"
"She even named her."
"Dare I ask?"
"Visenya." Aemma replied, amused and weary. "She chose a dragon's egg for the cradle that she said reminded her of Vhagar."
Viserys sighed. "Gods be good. This family already has its Visenya."
There was a quiet moment before Aemma asked, "Has there been any word from your dear brother?"
"Not since I named him Commander of the City Watch," Viserys said. "I'm sure he'll reemerge for the tourney. He could never stay away from the lists."
Aemma gave him a look, her fingers tracing the rim of the bath. "I read words from my niece Jeyne. She said that the Young Bronze... the child we think to be Daemon's boy... has officially sailed for King's Landing. So it is best you be ready."
Viserys drew a long breath. "Aye. Words reached me as well. About how the Royce party arrived at the docks not long past. The harbor was nearly blocked by their ship... so large it struggled to fit in the berth. The folk of the city have been gathering to stare at it. A bronze monster, they say. The largest thing to ever sail into Blackwater Bay."
Aemma looked troubled. "So, the boy is already here?"
He nodded. "So it seems."
"Do you think he knows?" she asked quietly. "Of his true father?"
Viserys hesitated, then shook his head. "Rhea has likely not kept the truth buried from him. Still, it is a cruel thing, the way Daemon wronged her... and the boy, if he is what I think he is. So, if there is a way to mend what my grandsire and brother broke, I will find it."
Aemma turned her eyes toward him, though worry shadowed her face. "And if the boy strengthens Daemon's claim? For Ronan Royce is already renowned in the Vale and the rest of the realm, and if the rumors of his charm and talent are true... then with both father and son commanding such attentions, it will make our own line look fragile."
Viserys waved it off, almost impatiently. "We are organizing a tourney for our firstborn son, are we not? Let the people see the strength of ours."
Aemma let out a tired sigh, leaning her head back against the bath's edge. "The tourney to celebrate the firstborn son that we presently do not have. You do understand nothing will cause the babe to grow a cock if it does not already possess one?"
"This child is a boy, Aemma," Viserys said firmly.
While she scoffed softly.
"I'm certain of it." Her husband insisted. "I've never been more certain of anything."
"The dream... it was clearer than a memory." He said. "Our son was born wearing Aegon's iron crown. When I heard the sound of thundering hooves, of shields shattering and swords clashing, I placed our son upon the Iron Throne as the bells of the Grand Sept tolled and all the dragons roared as one."
Aemma turned her head. "Born wearing a crown? Gods spare me... birth is unpleasant enough as it is."
Viserys smiled faintly and kissed her hand again.
"This is the last time, Viserys." She said wearily. "I've lost one babe in the cradle, had two stillbirths, and two pregnancies ended well before their term. That's five in twice as many years."
"I know it is my duty to provide you an heir, and I'm sorry if I have failed you in that. I am. But I've mourned all the dead children I can." She added with sadness.
To which, the King could only keep quiet. For he has mourned as much as she has as well.
But duty calls to him. As the King, he must have an heir. A male heir.