could you perhaps write a fic where aerion's wife the reader is pregnant and is having a difficult labor and is refusing help from the maesters similar to rhaenyra in that one episode in hotd and the reader is calling for aerion ๐
Pairings: Aerion x Pregnant!Wife!Reader
Summary: youโve been pregnant for what it felt like forever, finally itโs time to give birth
WARNINGS: pregnancy, birth, blood, kinda hurt to comfort
A/n: sorry if I made you wait, but I have so many requests recently๐ฉ
THE INTENSE smell of the roast served at lunch still lingered in the air, mingling with the more delicate scent of candle wax and the aged wood that permeated every corner of the grand library. The early afternoon light filtered through the tall arched windows, breaking into golden shafts that cut through the suspended dust and settled upon shelves filled with leather-bound volumes. The castle was unusually quiet; in the distance, only the cawing of crows beyond the walls could be heard, along with a few muffled voices drifting through the corridors and the faint crackling of a fire that was nearly out.
You walked slowly among the shelves, letting your fingers trail along the spines of the books without reading their titles. One hand instinctively supported the now enormous curve of your belly, as if to protect the child growing within, while the other brushed against the worn covers. Every step required an effort that only a few months earlier would have seemed unimaginable, and yet you tried not to dwell on it too much. You had promised yourself that you would not spend yet another day lying motionless in bed, waiting for something to happen.
It had been almost nine months since you had begun carrying that child within you. Every morning you woke hoping to finally feel your waters break; every evening you fell asleep disappointed, knowing you would have to wait again. You and Aerion had been counting the days for weeks now, even joking about when your child would choose to come into the world. Each time he saw you stroking your belly, he smiled like the young boy he still was, unable to hide his excitement. More than once he had bent down to speak to the child through your skin, telling them absurd stories or promising them rides and training sessions before they were even born. Those promises always made you laugh, but deep inside they nurtured a desire that grew stronger with each passing day: to finally hold that little one in your arms and see Aerion's face light up in the moment he became a father.
The waiting, however, seemed endless. Your body had reached the limit of its strength, and even the simplest actions had become tests of patience. To get out of bed, you needed someone to support you; putting on a dress without the help of the servants had become nearly impossible; even washing your hair required assistance. Walking made your ankles ache, your back felt as though it would break every time you stood too long, and the baby seemed to delight in pressing all his weight against your ribs. Aerion tried to help in every possible way, often lifting you into his arms even when you protested out of pride, but not even his presence could ease that constant heaviness that followed you through every day.
It had only just become afternoon when it happened.
One moment you were standing before a shelf, idly flipping through an old history book illustrated with miniatures now faded by time, trying to distract yourself from yet another day of waiting. The next, a sudden and violent pain tore through your abdomen like a burning blade. Your breath caught. Your fingers immediately tightened over your belly in an instinctive attempt to protect it, while the book slipped from your hands and fell heavily to the floor with a dull thud that echoed through the silent room. Your legs faltered beneath your weight, and you had to grab onto the nearest shelf to keep from falling. The pain was unlike anything you had felt throughout the entire pregnancy. It was deeper, more intense, and seemed to crush you from within.
A sudden warmth slid slowly down the inside of your thighs. For a brief instant, panic made you think you had wet yourself, but when you lowered your gaze and slightly lifted your skirt, the blood staining the skin of your legs immediately dispelled that thought. Your pupils dilated, your heart began to pound so hard it echoed in your ears, and a sudden chill ran down your spine despite the sweat already beading on your forehead. Was it normal? Did all women bleed before giving birth? Or was something happening to the baby? A thousand questions crowded your mind without giving you time to find an answer.
The first person you thought of was Aerion. His name flashed through your mind like lightning. You needed him. You needed him beside you, holding your hand and telling you that everything would be alright. But you immediately remembered where he was. As every afternoon, he was in the eastern garden, engaged in his daily sword training. Too far. Too distant for you to reach in your current condition. Another contraction bent you forward violently, forcing you to bite your lip until you tasted blood. You had to find someone. Anyone.
You began to drag yourself along the corridor, one hand clutched to your belly and the other pressed against the wall to keep your balance. Every step was agony. The pain seemed to radiate from your abdomen to your back and then down your legs, making them tremble beneath your weight. Your breath came out short and uneven, broken by groans you desperately tried to suppress to avoid losing control entirely. The castle, which only minutes earlier had felt familiar and reassuring, now seemed vast and endless. The corridors stretched before your eyes as every step required all the strength you still possessed.
At last, a young servant appeared at the corner of the corridor, a heavy basket of clean linens clutched in her arms. The moment her eyes met yours, all color drained from her face. Her gaze immediately dropped to the blood staining the floor behind you. The basket slipped from her hands, spilling the white linens across the stone floor as she rushed toward you without a second thought.
"My lady, what is happening? Are you well?" she asked in a worried tone, immediately wrapping an arm around your waist and letting you lean almost entirely on her.
"The baby-" you groaned through clenched teeth, squeezing your eyes shut as another wave of pain stole your breath. "It's coming."
The girl stifled a gasp and swallowed hard before regaining a measure of composure. "You must lie down, my lady. Your chambers are not far."
With her help, you managed to slowly reach your apartments. The path felt longer than you remembered, and several times you had to stop as the contractions left you unable even to breathe. Once inside, the servant helped you with trembling hands to remove your heavy garments, leaving you only in a thin underdress now clinging to your skin with sweat and lightly stained with blood. She guided you to the bed, making sure you did not fall, arranging pillows behind your back before turning again toward the door.
"I will fetch Master Samwell and the midwives at once. A-and your husband as well." she said firmly, though her voice trembled slightly, before rushing out of the room.
Left alone, time seemed to stop completely. Remaining still was impossible. The pain increased every few minutes, forcing you to rise from the bed again and again, pacing slowly and uncertainly across the room. You clung to furniture, to the drapes, even to the bedposts just to stay upright when the contractions became unbearable. Sweat ran down your temples and the nape of your neck, your breathing was labored and uneven, and between one groan and the next you found yourself cursing the gods, fate, and above all Aerion for putting you in this situation.
At last, the doors burst open decisively. Four midwives entered the room quickly, followed by Master Samwell, whose face betrayed a calm built upon years of experience. The women immediately began preparing hot water, clean cloths, and everything that would be needed, while the old man approached you with slow steps, observing you carefully.
"My lady, please, sit on the bed. Walking with this pain will not help you." he said in a patient tone, extending a hand toward you.
You shook your head stubbornly, breathing heavily. When he tried to help you, you pulled your hand away with a sudden motion. "No! I-" you panted, clutching your belly as another contraction nearly doubled you over. "Where is my husband? He should be here!"
"He should be informed any moment now." Samwell replied calmly, without losing patience.
One of the midwives approached with a damp cloth, gently trying to wipe the sweat from your forehead and cheeks, but you immediately turned your face away, unable to bear anything that was not Aerion's presence. In that moment, you did not want reassuring words or skilled hands. You only wanted your husband to walk through that door before the pain returned once more to steal your breath.
"No! Don't touch me!" you cried firmly.
You slowly turned your gaze around you, desperately searching for a familiar face, something to hold onto while the pain seemed to devour you from within. The midwives spoke to one another in low, focused voices, Master Samwell gave instructions with a calm you found almost irritating in that moment, yet none of them managed to make you feel safe. They were strangers. People you had perhaps passed dozens of times in the castle corridors, but who now meant absolutely nothing. They were not your family. They were not the people you loved. Above all, none of them was Aerion. The realization of being alone struck you with a force even greater than the contractions. It felt absurd that the most important and terrifying moment of your life should unfold surrounded by strangers, while the one person you longed to have beside you had not yet arrived.
Another contraction surged through your abdomen like a violent wave, forcing you to bend forward with a stifled moan. Your hands instinctively tightened over your belly, as though they could contain that force pressing from within. You felt the baby move, your body stiffen beyond your control, and panic slowly began to replace your clarity. You lifted your gaze toward the master, your eyes bright with fear, your breath breaking unevenly between your lips.
"I want my husband! Bring him here!" you cried with all the strength you still possessed, loud enough to startle even one of the younger midwives. The cry echoed against the chamber walls, immediately followed by another moan as the pain once again stole your breath.
The women exchanged worried glances, but none dared contradict you. Samwell sighed faintly, as though he had witnessed such scenes countless times, and once again tried to approach. "My lady..."
But you did not let him finish.
You shook your head firmly, breathing hard. Sweat ran down your neck and back, soaking the thin underdress now clinging to your skin. Every muscle in your body seemed tightened to the point of spasm, and remaining on your feet was becoming increasingly difficult. You stubbornly continued to pace beside the bed, stopping only when a contraction forced you to double over. You wanted to keep waiting for him standing. You wanted to be the one to see Aerion enter through the door, not for him to find you already lying there, helpless, in the bed. But your own body betrayed you.
Your legs began to tremble so violently that they could no longer support you. Your knees suddenly gave way, drained of all strength, and the floor seemed to rush up toward you. Before you could fall, the midwives and the master quickly caught you, grasping you under the arms and gently guiding you toward the mattress.
"No..." you protested weakly, even trying to free yourself from their grip. "Leave me..."
But no one listened. With the utmost care, they laid you down on the bed, arranging pillows behind your back to keep you slightly elevated. You felt the cool sheets beneath your burning skin, but that pleasant sensation lasted only an instant. Another contraction came almost immediately, so intense it arched your back. The pain was something you had never experienced before. It did not resemble a wound, nor an illness. It was as though someone were slowly breaking your body from within, separating every bone, every muscle, every fiber. It burned. It burned everywhere. From your abdomen the pain spread to your back, your hips, your legs, leaving you breathless each time. It seemed impossible that a human being could endure something like that and remain conscious.
Tears began to blur your vision. You tried with all your strength to hold them back. You did not want to cry. You did not want to appear weak in front of them all. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, hoping that small pain might at least distract you from the immeasurably greater one consuming you. But you were exhausted. Your strength was slowly leaving you. Breathing had become as difficult as moving, and even keeping your eyes open required a tremendous effort.
Samwell studied your strained face carefully, then lowered his gaze between your legs. His expression changed. "My lady..." he said, his voice calm but firmer than before. "It is time. You must begin to push."
Those words made your blood run cold. An unnatural chill spread through your body, in stark contrast with the suffocating heat that had enveloped you for hours. You slowly shook your head as another contraction tore a trembling moan from your lips. Your damp hair shifted slightly against your skin. "No! I cannot push until my husband is here!"
The master went pale instantly, his eyes widening slightly. Around him, the midwives exchanged quick, anxious glances, as if none of them knew how to convince you. "My lady, do not speak nonsense. We cannot wait for the prince's arrival!"
But his words seemed to shatter against a wall. You did not want to listen to anyone. Your entire being refused to face that moment without Aerion. Your body fought against your will, instinctively urging you to push and bring the child into the world, but you clenched your fists, tensed every muscle, even held your breath in an effort to resist. It did not matter how unbearable the pain was. It did not matter how afraid you were. You needed him. You needed him there, looking into your eyes, reminding you that you were not alone.
What followed were two endless hours. Every minute stretched into an eternity marked only by contractions growing closer and closer together. The room was thick with the acrid smell of sweat, hot water, and medicinal herbs. Several times the midwives tried to persuade you, almost begging you to cooperate, but you continued to refuse stubbornly, now too exhausted even to speak. Your lips were dry, your breathing uneven, and your eyes so heavy they threatened to close on their own. You could feel your strength slipping away, like sand falling through your fingers. The pain had become constant, an unrelenting presence that gave you no respite.
Then, suddenly, a commotion erupted beyond the chamber door. Urgent voices, heavy footsteps, someone protesting. You barely lifted your gaze, but in that same instant a contraction far stronger than any before tore through your body like lightning. The scream that escaped your lips was the loudest of the entire day, a desperate cry that seemed to fill the whole room. The door burst open violently, and Aerion entered at a near run. His face was tight with anger, his cheeks slightly flushed, his chest rising and falling quickly from breathlessness. His hair, usually immaculate, was disheveled, as though he had crossed the palace without stopping for even a moment. His amethyst-colored eyes burned with a fierce fury, so intense that several of those present instinctively stepped back.
Without sparing anyone a glance, he crossed the room in a few strides and reached the master. He grabbed him brutally by the collar of his robe, nearly lifting him off the ground. "Why am I only being told now that my wife is in labor?! Explain it to me, old man." he spat venomously, each word forced through clenched teeth.
Master Samwell's face lost all color. He swallowed with visible difficulty as his trembling hands tried uselessly to free themselves from the prince's grip. "My prince, normally fathers do not attend the birth. I simply thought-"
"Use that useless head of yours to think one more time, and I'll have it cut off!"
A sudden silence fell over the room. No one dared intervene. Even the midwives had stopped moving, frozen by the prince's fury. Aerion seemed incapable of seeing anything but that elderly man who had dared to decide in his place. Rage flowed through him like living fire, ready to consume anyone who stood before him.
It was the sound of your cry that broke that moment. His expression changed in a single breath. Aerion released the master at once, who staggered backward, and turned toward you. All the anger that moments before had seemed uncontrollable gave way to something entirely different. Concern? Fear?
In just a few steps he reached your side and knelt beside the bed without hesitation. With a gentleness that stood in stark contrast to the violence he had shown moments earlier, and often in his daily life, he let one hand slide into your damp hair, carefully brushing a few strands away from your sweat-beaded forehead. His fingers barely grazed your skin, as if he feared even that simple touch might hurt you.
Feeling that familiar touch, you slowly opened your eyes. Tears blurred your vision, yet you were still able to make out his face. For a moment, it felt like a dream. All the fear that had accompanied you until then suddenly faltered. Your heart tightened in your chest as a soft, reassuring warmth spread through you, easing at least part of that relentless pain. He was there. He was truly there. His fingers continued to caress you with the same infinite gentleness he had always known how to show, and in his eyes you finally found what you had searched for through endless hours: home.
"Aerion... you're here..." Your voice was nothing more than a trembling whisper, so faint it nearly blended with the ragged sound of your breathing. Each word seemed to cost you immense effort, as though even speaking had become difficult after hours spent battling a pain that had consumed you inside and out. And yet, the moment your eyes finally met his, everything else lost importance. You no longer saw the midwives moving around the bed, no longer heard the constant coming and going of footsteps or the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Only Aerion existed. His face, both familiar and reassuring, seemed to be the only stable thing in the chaos that had surrounded you all day. For the first time in hours, you felt the weight on your chest begin to lift.
"Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?" His jaw remained tightly clenched, the muscles in his face taut, betraying all the anger still boiling inside him. He was furious with anyone who had dared to keep him away from you, furious with that absurd tradition that demanded husbands be kept out of the room during childbirth, furious even with himself for not arriving sooner. And yet, despite the fury still burning in his eyes, his voice never changed when he spoke to you. It remained calm and low. He would never allow you to feel even a shadow of his anger in that moment, you already had enough to endure.
"I don't know... I thought... I thought you wouldn't make it in time." The words broke into a stifled whimper as the tears you had tried so hard to hold back for hours filled your eyes again. With a slow, almost desperate gesture, you lifted a hand toward him. Your fingers trembled visibly from exhaustion and effort, but Aerion was faster. He immediately took your hand in his, holding it firmly, as if he meant to keep the entire world from taking it away. The warmth of his skin against yours anchored you to reality. It was a steady, protective grip, the same one that had reassured you so many times without the need for words.
"As if I could ever leave you alone in a moment like this." He wouldโve rather die than do such a thing. Aerion let out a soft breath, more directed at himself than at you. He leaned down slowly, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead just above your brow. His lips lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, as if he were trying to give you all the strength he could not offer in any other way. His fingers continued to stroke your sweat-damp hair, tucking it gently behind your ear with that tenderness only you knew. In the midst of all that pain, that simple gesture reminded you of who you were beyond the suffering. You were his wife. And he was there.
Those three words pierced his heart more deeply than any blade. He saw your face contorted in pain, the tears still tracing your cheeks without you having the strength to wipe them away, the way your body trembled after each contraction. He bit down hard on the inside of his lip until he tasted blood. His hands itched with frustration. Inside him, a blind, uncontrollable anger grew, with nowhere to go. He would have faced a hundred armies, challenged dragons, given his own life without hesitation if it meant taking even a fraction of that pain away from you. And yet he could do nothing. He was forced to stand there and watch you suffer. Worse still, a part of him could not stop thinking that this suffering was his fault. That child existed because of him as well. You were enduring that hell for him too. If having more children meant seeing you reduced to this state, then he would never again ask you to go through such torment. No heir was worth your tears.
It was that very frustration that made him lift his head sharply toward the master of the midwives. His eyes narrowed into two violet slits, cold and sharp as steel. "Can't you see she's suffering? Do something!"
The room seemed to hold its breath. No one dared interrupt. The old master hesitated for a moment, lowering his gaze slightly before the prince's wrath. "There is nothing we can do, my prince. She must push now."
Those words were like oil poured onto fire. Aerion clenched his teeth so hard his jaw tightened visibly. For a brief instant, the urge to seize the man again and shake a different answer out of him crossed his mind. Useless old man, he thought bitterly. If that was all the wisdom a lifetime of study could offer, then it was pitifully inadequate. But it only took hearing you groan once more for all his attention to return to you. His fingers laced with yours again, gripping firmly, as if he could bear part of your burden.
From that moment on, time ceased to have any meaning. The memories of what followed would, over the passing hours, blur into confused images, disconnected fragments surfacing without order. You remembered screaming until your throat burned and your voice broke into hoarse, ragged sounds. You remembered the salty taste of tears on your lips, the sweat running down your neck, Aerion's hands never leaving yours for even a single moment. Every time a contraction came, you squeezed his fingers with all the strength you had left, leaving deep reddish marks on his skin. He never complained. He remained there, supporting you, whispering words you often could not even distinguish, yet which still held the power to keep you anchored to reality. And above every other memory remained the pain. Immense, haunting, so intense that more than once it made you believe you no longer had the strength to go on.
But all that pain seemed to vanish the moment a cry echoed through the room. It was a small, fragile sound, and yet it seemed to fill every corner of the chamber, sweeping away in an instant the suffocating weight that had pressed on everyone until then. Your heart swelled in your chest until it almost hurt. The pain did not disappear, but it suddenly felt distant, almost insignificant before that sound. You felt someone approach, and moments later a small, warm body was placed gently upon your chest. Her cry continued, her tiny legs moving weakly against you. You could feel her heart beating fast, the warmth of her still-damp skin, the delicate and unmistakable scent of a newborn. It was a sensation impossible to describe. That little creature had been inside you for all those months. You had protected her, nourished her, loved her long before you knew her. And now she was finally there.
"Congratulations, a beautiful princess." One of the midwives smiled softly as she adjusted the newborn more securely in your arms, helping you hold her.
You slowly lowered your gaze to her, looking as though the rest of the world had suddenly ceased to exist. A small tuft of white hair already crowned her tiny head, soft as silk. You could not hold back a tired but tender smile. She has her father's hair.
You slowly turned your head toward Aerion. He could not take his eyes off the child. His gaze, usually so stern and controlled, was completely different now. There was wonder, disbelief, almost fear. As if he could not yet truly comprehend that the small creature before him was his daughter. His pupils trembled slightly as he took in every detail of her face, as though trying to etch it into his memory forever.
"Aerion... I did it. She's here." Your lips finally curved into a smile, the first after hours of suffering.
He swallowed slowly, unable to look away from the baby as he carefully extended a finger toward her tiny face. He barely brushed her plump cheek, as if afraid he might break her with a simple touch. "Yes, you did it. You were... so brave."
His voice was rougher than usual, emotion tightening his throat. A moment later, he lifted one of your hands and pressed a long, grateful kiss upon it. At last, you felt your body relax. The tension built during labor slowly melted away, leaving behind only an endless exhaustion and a happiness you had never known.
"What do you want to call her?" you asked softly, never taking your eyes off that little face as it slowly drifted into sleep in your arms.
Aerion remained silent for a moment, continuing to stroke the baby's head with infinite gentleness. "Daenys."
You repeated the name, tasting it on your lips.
"Like the Dreamer..." you murmured with an affectionate smile, holding your daughter a little closer to your chest. "I like it."
