Could you imagine the grief that crashed into Rhaenyra when she realized she had lost another son? Her FIRST SON. The child who made her a mother. The way she clung to him, holding him close, refusing to believe he would never wake again. The last time she ever held her firstborn, he could no longer hold her back.
She had Jace when she was still so young, they practically grew up together. Every milestone in his life became one in hers. He was the first baby she held against her chest, the first tiny voice to call her 'Mother', She was the one who caught him when he took his firsts, she watched him stumble toward her with complete trust. He was the child whose laughter filled halls that had known nothing but politics and whispers about her. After years of trying to have children with Laenor, after all disappointments and impossible expectations, Jace was the hope wrapped in swaddling cloth.
Before he was her heir, before he was the Prince of Dragonstone, he was simply her tiny boy who once fit in her arms, whose tears only she knew how to soothe. How unbearable that dread must have become, knowing she could not save them all. That every step she took toward the birthright that had always been hers seemed to demand another piece of the family she was fighting to protect.
Oh, Rhaenyra. How cold your hands must have grown? After burying so much of your heart. The crown you were born to wear was forged from the graves of the people you loved most.