Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 608: The Grief of Laena

The weather was fine, with the warm sun shining brightly.

Boom—

Two dragons, one following the other, emerged from the sea beneath Pentos and soared into The Gullet. Daemon's lips curled up slightly as he savored the salty sea air.

"Roar..."

Dragons and humans share a similar temperament. Caraxes crossed the sea, sending up cool waves in its wake. Above the clouds, Vhagar flapped its wings and ascended higher into the sky. Its massive body pushed through the clouds, revealing the sagging folds of skin along its jaw.

Laena smiled, loosening some of the saddle clasps around her waist. She was seven months pregnant, and her stomach was clearly visible. The straps couldn't be as tight as usual.

Gulp—

Her stomach made a noise, as if it were hungry. Laena's face paled slightly. She had been pregnant twice before and sensed that something was wrong.

"Daemon, slow down!" she shouted, clutching the handlebar with both hands as she leaned forward.

Then she removed her leather gloves and reached beneath her red skirt, feeling the wet, bloody stains. Laena's head buzzed, and she had only one thought:

'The water has broken!'

...

Midday

Driftmark, High Tide

“Ahhh!” A woman’s scream of agony echoed from the Lord’s chambers.

“How could this happen!?” Daemon stood outside the door, his face dark with anger. Laena had gone into premature labor, just as she had with her previous miscarriage.

“Father!…” Noisy footsteps echoed in the hallway as Baela and Rhaena rushed in, their faces pale with fear. Their fiancés, Daeron and Aemon, followed closely behind. A truce had been reached with Pentos, specifically to end the war between Braavos and Pentos. Upon learning that their parents had returned to Driftmark, the sisters had begged Rhaenyra to send an escort.

“How is my mother?” Baela asked, her voice flustered and panicked as she spun in a frantic circle.

Daemon glanced at his eldest daughter, opening his mouth to speak. “She…”

“Ah, Daemon…” A scream suddenly pierced the air from within the chamber, and Laena called out to her husband in a pitiable voice. The pain in her trembling tone was unmistakable.

Daemon’s face turned cold as he held Baela back, preventing her from rushing into the room. He scolded sternly, “Who told you to come? Go back!”

Childbirth was a gamble against death. His daughters were too young to witness such a cruel scene.

“Why!?” Baela’s eyes widened, brimming with tears. “Mother is calling you. The attendants said she went into labor early!”

Rhaena gripped her sister’s clothing, shaking her head in silent agreement.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Don’t look at anything you shouldn’t!” Daemon was distracted as he grabbed his eldest son-in-law, Daeron, by the shoulders and pressed his forehead against Daeron’s. “Take them back to their room. Can you do that?”

His voice trembled as he struggled to restrain his emotions.

Daeron hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his handsome face. “I will,” he finally replied. He took one of the girls by the hand and signaled for them to leave together. Every time Rhaenyra gave birth, Rhaegar had insisted that the children and their nephews stay away from the door. Daeron didn’t fully understand, but he respected his brother’s wishes.

“No! I’m not leaving!” Baela struggled fiercely, tears streaming down her face.

“Go,” Aemon urged, pulling her hand gently. “We’ll only worry your mother if we stay here.”

Daeron nodded to his uncle, then led the girls away.

Soon, only Daemon and a maid, who kept changing the water, remained outside the door.

“Ahhh!” Laena screamed in agony, leaning over the edge of the low bed, her legs spread wide in a desperate attempt to birth the child. The two Maesters were drenched in blood, their faces pale with terror. It was another difficult birth, and the aftereffects of her previous labor had left her womb torn and bleeding profusely. With the limited skills of today’s healers, there was nothing more they could do.

One of the older Maesters, his hands trembling, rose unsteadily and left the room. Daemon, his face grim, hurriedly grabbed the Maester by the arm. “What’s the situation?” he demanded.

“It’s not good,” the older Maester replied, his voice heavy with truth. “The baby is in the breech position. I could attempt to push for the birth, but the mother is bleeding heavily.”

The amount of blood loss would almost certainly lead to death.

Bang! Daemon slammed his fist into the wall, frustration boiling over. “She was fine just the other day! We even rode dragons this morning!”

Since they had left the Smoking Sea, Laena had seemed much improved. If she hadn’t been, she wouldn’t have gone to Pentos.

The old Maester gritted his teeth and continued, “The fetus is healthy, but the mother is the issue.” He paused, then added, “A person’s physical state is closely tied to their state of mind. The lady had been holding onto hope, and her condition appeared to improve. But she was concealing her injuries. Now, with the fetus fully developed and requiring more nutrients, her weakened body can no longer cope.”

Daemon’s brow furrowed deeply as he struggled to suppress his anger. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Can the baby be delivered safely or not?”

“We’ll do our best,” the Maester replied, his tone uncertain.

“I want a definite answer!” Daemon’s voice shook as he listened to Laena’s screams, feeling as though his heart were being torn apart.

The old Maester slowly lowered his head. “We can only do our best,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

Daemon, stunned by the response, shoved the man in a daze. “Get in there. My wife needs your help.”

The old Maester nodded silently and returned to the room.

...

Time passed slowly, each moment marked by the echoes of his wife's wails. Daemon paced back and forth, his mood sinking lower with every cry.

Boom—

A fierce gust of wind rattled the windows of High Tide, shaking them slightly. Daemon glanced out the window just in time to see a scarlet dragon land in the forecourt with lightning speed.

In a short while, Rhaenys hurried up to him, her face etched with worry. “How is Laena?” she asked anxiously.

Daemon remained silent, shaking his head wordlessly.

Rhaenys’s expression shifted, and she forced a smile. “Corlys will be back soon. He’s setting out from the Mud Gate.”

The couple had been in King’s Landing to visit Viserys when the news reached them, and they had rushed back. Rhaenys’s red armor still clung to her, carrying the scent of dragonfire.

Daemon said nothing, his eyes dark and uncertain.

“Ah! Come out…” Laena suddenly wailed from the room, pounding her arms against the bed in agony.

Rhaenys’s eyelids twitched, and she spoke quickly. “Last time Laena had a difficult birth, Rhaegar saved her.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered, his voice heavy with contemplation. “What are you suggesting?”

Rhaenys gripped her cousin’s arm, her tone serious. “Someone has to help Laena. Rhaegar is far away in Qohor. Do Rhaenyra or Helaena know any healing magic?”

The two sisters were the ones her nephew trusted most; it was possible they knew some arcane magic.

Daemon closed his eyes, his voice dry and filled with despair. “It’s no use. It’s too late.”

Rhaenyra was in Lys, and it was unclear whether she knew any healing spells. Helaena was hurrying back from King’s Landing, but even at Dreamfyre’s speed, it would take her at least half a day to arrive. And she was pregnant, unable to ride a dragon.

Rhaenys’s pupils fluttered as she struggled to maintain her composure, leaning against the wall to keep from collapsing. She knew her daughter’s condition well; Laena had been sickly for months. A sudden improvement might have been unnatural.

“Prince!” The old Maester hurried out of the room, the sound of Laena’s screams gradually fading behind him.

Rhaenys immediately asked, before Daemon could speak, “What’s the situation?”

The old Maester’s face was grim as he shook his head. “It’s not good. The womb is severely torn, and a normal birth is impossible.”

Daemon and Rhaenys felt their hearts sink at the familiar words.

The Maester continued in a somber tone, “While there’s still time, and the fetus is still alive, the best solution is to perform a Caesarean.”

“Can the mother be saved?” Daemon asked, his chest tightening as if crushed by a mountain. For the second time in his life, he pleaded, “Can the mother be saved?”

The old Maester, with regret etched into his features, whispered, “We can only guarantee the safety of the fetus.”

Daemon opened his mouth, but his throat felt as if it were filled with sand.

“Make a decision quickly. The mother won’t last much longer,” the old Maester urged, his voice tinged with sorrow. He had watched Laena grow up, and now he was tasked with deciding her fate. It was a burden no one should bear.

“No, I cannot choose,” Daemon muttered, his voice breaking. His steps faltered as if he were walking on air. This was his wife, the woman who had nearly died for him. Her life was hers to give, not his to take.

“Do it!” Laena's voice rang out from inside the room, sharp and resolute. Her screams followed, piercing the heavy silence.

Everyone outside froze, eyes snapping to the door.

Inside, Laena lay drenched in sweat, utterly exhausted. She gritted her teeth and cried out, “Cut me open! Let the baby out!”

“Don’t shout! You won’t survive it,” the Maester beside her urged, his voice filled with alarm as he tried to soothe her.

Around the bed, the maids were in tears, some holding basins of water, others clutching towels, helpless in the face of such agony.

From his vantage point outside the door, Daemon could only make out the blurred silhouette of his wife. The old Maester, standing in the doorway, locked eyes with Daemon, his expression grave.

Laena, pale as death, summoned the last of her strength and shouted, “Daemon, save the baby!”

Daemon’s body shook violently. He stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.

“Prince…” The old Maester's voice was urgent; he needed an answer.

“Listen to her!” Rhaenys interjected, pulling the old Maester inside the room. Her voice was laced with pain. “If her husband can’t make the decision, I, as her mother, will.”

There was no time for hesitation—delaying any longer would risk both lives. Someone had to act.

The old Maester, as if finally given direction, nodded firmly and instructed his assistant to prepare a cup of poppy milk.

...

Daemon’s eyes were vacant, his limbs weak as he leaned heavily against the window. Time seemed to crawl, and he found himself disoriented, unable to discern north from south or east from west. His mind was a blank slate, the only sound anchoring him the persistent buzzing in his ears.

The sun slipped from its zenith, casting an indelible gloom over High Tide.

“Roar!” Vhagar’s mournful cry echoed through the skies, the old dragon circling the castle in sorrow. Its lament could be heard for miles, a sound so haunting it seemed to pierce the very heart of the fortress.

Daemon, lost in his thoughts, looked up at the beast above. The dragon’s wail replaced the screams of his wife, stabbing into his soul like a dagger.

Then, as suddenly as it began, Vhagar’s wailing ceased.

“Wa wa wa~~”

From the room behind him, the loud cry of a newborn rang out. Daemon’s fingers, gripping the windowsill, trembled, and he turned his stiff neck toward the sound, his vision blurring.

Tap, tap...

A figure approached, familiar yet almost ghostly. It was tall, strikingly reminiscent of Laena.

“Laena…” Daemon’s throat tightened, rendering him speechless. It really did look like her.

“Daemon.” A voice called out, and a warm hand touched his cheek, bringing him back to reality. His vision cleared, and the figure vanished, replaced by Rhaenys, her expression stoic.

Rhaenys walked toward him, her steps heavy, holding a swaddled baby in her arms. “Look. It’s a boy.”

Daemon stared blankly, muttering, “Where’s Laena?” This morning, they had flown together on dragonback, drawing envious gazes from Prince Reggio.

“She’s gone where she needed to go,” Rhaenys said, tilting her head as she took a deep breath. “She didn’t say much, but I believe there was much she wanted to tell you.”

Daemon squeezed his trembling hands together, trying to steady himself. “What did she want to say?”

“She couldn’t say it, so I’ll speak for her.” Rhaenys glanced at the pale little face in the swaddling clothes and continued, her voice tinged with a strange detachment. “This is the son you’ve always longed for. Laena fulfilled her duty to the Targaryen’s bloodline. She did it.”

She thrust the swaddled baby into Daemon’s arms, her tone edged with bitterness. “Even if it cost her everything—wasn’t that what you wanted?”