Not The Last: Maekar Targaryen x Spouse!Reader
A/N: I had a message regarding my use of they/them pronouns. I personally use they/them so it wasn't confusing for me BUT i could see how it could be as confronting as she or he pronouns. When I write I use the pronouns of the OC and change to gender neutral for Tumblr. Summary: Post-Ashford. Targaryens return to Summerhall from Ashford. Reader soothes step-children and reveals pregnancy to Maekar. Warnings: Pregnancy, grief, death, explaining death to children, maybe ooc Maekar. 0o--o0
The ride from Ashford to Summerhall was swift and quiet with banners at half mast. No one dared make a fuss to Maekar, his patience gone out the window long before they left Ashford. Even Aerion kept his mouth shut, albeit he was still quite injured and not exactly in any position to travel. None the less the dwindling Targaryen lineage arrived at Summerhall without issue.
The pale stone architecture of their ancient ancestorial home stood tall and proud as if unmarred by the recent tragedies, the gardens full of life as growing flowers blossomed in nearby plots and hedges. A bright comparison to the dull party approaching its' gates.
Horns blew loud to announce the return of the Targaryen prince's, serving only to irritate the already fragile Maekar more. Waving at the horn blowers to stop their 'fucking bellowing'. Among the minor lords, ladies, and servants emerging from the castle were three pale headed children ready to greet their father and check on their brothers.
Horrified faces contorted as whispered follow close behind as the people saw prince Aerion's face, barely healed over enough to be scarred as the wounds were still bloody. His body stiff from pain and his gait staggered from the wound placed upon his thigh. The young prince pushed past his three younger siblings before disappearing inside the castle walls.
Daeron was quick to dismantle from his stead, handing his riding companion off to a passing stable boy. The dragon dreamer was well versed in his ability to become invisible in crowds, slipping away like shadows in the night. Paying his younger siblings no mind, his thoughts only on his own guilt and how best to drown out his feelings.
Working swiftly around their masters, the servants were left to unpack the horses, carriages, and wagons filled with clothes, weapon, armour, and other fineries the Targaryen royals brought with them to Ashford. Even more servants scurried from inside the castle to help transport the goods back to their proper place.
The young Targaryen girls spotted their father first, their hair a pale silver with striking violet eyes which lit up upon seeing their dad. Both girls were young, both under 10 winters, both girls had clothes that were made of fine silk embroidered with golden dragons lining the expensive fabric. You could tell by appearance they were doted on and spoilt by their father.
Maekar was silent as he lowered himself off his horse, his usual grunts and mutters mute of voice. His age lines deeper than when he first left for the tournament, his grief and guilt written into his very being. He kept his eyes low, not wanting to see the home that had seen two too many loved ones perish. Maekar waited to see that his spouse was being guided from the carriage, your belongings tended to, and that you were following suit before his shoulders fell heavy from travel.
Maekar did little to acknowledge the two little girls, normally he would let them hang on his legs and bombard him with a million questions before presenting them both with gifts from his travels. This time he merely pet their heads before sulking by to go inside Summerhall's grandhall and to his study. Too young to understand the girls looked more confused than shattered that their father past them by, but their brother that stood close by did not seem to care.
His short hair was the same pale silver as his sisters, his eyes a shared violet hue. He was older than his sisters by a few years, a boy a winter or two into his teenage years. His clothes were black with an accent of red, in comparison to his sisters he wore less extravagant clothes and had held a large book by his hip. His eyes darted around the horses and caravans looking for someone among the crowd.
You had seen your husband's unusual behavior, his refusal to look at his three younger children and his haste to remove himself from company. Although him removing himself is not odd, he was a family man and despite having a hard time showing it, he did love his children deeply. You were not far behind your husband's footsteps and caught up to the children quickly, the two girls losing their shock as tears welled up in their eyes as they clung to your dress. The eldest of the duo needing no comfort, still seemed rather confused by the party that returned.
"Where is Aegon?" he spoke with a curious tone. Lifting an eyebrow and clutching his large tome.
"Aegon is safe and well, but I must speak inside with you three" you said attempting to ease any worry the teen had
The boy nodded and the girls were ushered into a room that was more private.
They entered a common room, used for years by the younger children to play with hand-made toys, swords, and dolls. Crimson pillows cluttered the floor to sit on when playing dolls, or reading books. Lounge chairs and corner tables helped border the open play space where the children spent most their leisure time. An unlit fire place lay dormant as spring winds flutter through the room causing the sheer curtains to dance.
Gathered around, Aemon, the eldest of the children sat on one of the lounge chairs while the younger girls sat on the pillows on the ground. They listened to you explain the events of Ashford in a more child friendly way, how Aerion was hurt in the Trial of the Seven, how Aegon is serving as a squire to a hedge knight, you even informed them of their uncle's untimely passing. Assuring each child that they are all still very much loved by their father and yourself.
"Think about how much you love your brothers and sisters, imagine if one were to die suddenly, how would you feel?" you questioned the children, albeit more so the young girls
"Sad" Rhae, the younger of the two girls spoke with a solemn tone
"I would cry in my room forever and never leave" Daella followed
You nodded
"That is how your father is feeling. He is sad that his brother is dead, sad he could not help him. It's why he may be distant and upset but I promise you that he still loves you with all his heart. He just needs some time to learn how to live with this sadness, how to live his life with us and with being sad his brother is gone" you explained to the children
You knew their father would need time, time without limit and most likely forever. Grief is not something you just get over or heal from, you learn to live along side it. You wanted the children to know that, to know that death is not bad and grief is not something to fear. To love is to lose and grief is a pain born of love.
The children seemed to understand the best they could to their abilities, to know not to take their fathers actions personal. You could still see the sadness in Aemon's face, you knew Egg was his favourite of his siblings.
"Aemon" you spoke to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder "I made Egg promise me something, before he left"
The boy stopped his frowning to look up at you
"I made him promise to return in exactly 9 moons, and again 3 moons after that. He will be here to see you off when you leave for the citadel" you assured him, easing the boy slightly
He nodded, holding his book tighter and as he started counting the amount of moons in his head until he saw his brother again. The children were all dismissed to think about what they all had just learnt, being asked to give their father some space for the time being and to ask any questions that may cross their mind.
As the children scattered to different parts of the castle to occupy their time until nightfall, you picked yourself up and left the room in search of your husband. Summerhall has been your home for many years, traversing the halls had always been an easy task but this time the walls felt tight as if they were closing in on you. Walls that held framed paintings almost felt like a thousand eyes judging each foot step.
Despite the tightness in your chest you reached Maekar's study without interruption, gently pushing the large door open to step inside. Hunched over his chair with a the fireplace lowly lit was Prince Maekar, quill in hand he was scribbling a letter with great ferocity. Curiosity got the better of you as you slinked your way to his side to take a peak at the letter.
"Darling?" you called to warn him of your presence
Fiddling with your fingers you squinted your eyes to try and read your husband's quillmanship. Due to his rushed words, the lettering on the page was almost illegible.
"What is it that you are in such a rush to write?" you questioned
His quill stopped on the parchment before his gruff voice responded "Sending guards out to find Aegon and that fucking cursed hedge knight"
Your fingers ceased their nervous fidgeting remaining frozen as you breathed in the confidence to speak again
"I do not think you should do that, husband..." your voice firm
The room became silent, his quill dropping to the desk as Maekar's neck slowly turned around. His eyes were in a squint as they met yours and his brain barely computing your outlandish words. He looked like a snowy owl, face sharp and eyes focused. His body was still, his breathing deep and his head seemingly turned 180 with a look of horror and confusion etched into his face.
At first he thought you mayhaps had gone mad, or that he simply misheard you. He pressed his lips tightly before asking you
"Have you gone mad, wife? Why wouldn't I send guards to find my foolish son? Gods only know what would fucking happen to him outside these walls"
"I know, I know" you tried to ease your older husband "but please listen to me, my love"
You moved closer to him, your hands travelling to the back of his neck where his white locks ended
"Out of all your children, Aegon is your spitting imagine. He admires you deeply" You went on to speak, your words catching your husband's interest
"Whenever he and Aemon would play battles, Aegon always insisted on being The Anvil - choice words and all. He's always wanted to be a knight just like you"
The old knight in front of you grunted at the words you spoke, unaware of the extent of his son's admiration for him.
"He believes in what YOU taught him. Honour, kindness, and being true to himself. Even if you drag him back I know he will leave again. I can't imagine keeping you still at the same age was easy either"
Maekar's face relaxed from it's contorted position, his arms crossed over his chest as he felt your fingers dance upon the fine hairs of his nape. War hardened his fierce eyes met your kind orbs, pleading with you to understand
"He is my last son" his tone was somber
Now you angled yourself in front of your husband, hands dropping from his head to find his hands. Your digits intertwined with his large hands, he allowed you to take his hands from their resting place. Maekar watched as you placed his calloused fingers over your abdomen, your smaller hand firmly placed over his as to make sure his hands stay exactly where they need to be.
"He's not your last son" your voice barely a whisper, your eyes searching your husband's for reassurance and understanding
The seconds felt like minutes, the minutes like hours as it ticked inside Maekar's head. You were with child, with HIS child. After all the grief, loss, and guilt from the past week, he did not fully know how to comprehend such news. Instead his body spoke for him, his hands slipping from your grasp to hold you closer by the hips. His forehead taking the place of where his hands were, the warmth from your touches still lingering.
Your heart pumped faster than it ever had before. You were unaware of what reaction you would get but you did not expect silence, albeit the silence was positive but it was silence none the less. Until a small shaky breath broke the silence. Looking down at your husband you watched as he placed a kiss to your stomach, his hands tightened on your hips as if he was worried you would disappear or that you weren't real.
Loving hands found home on his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear. This was the closest you had seen your husband break down before, normally he was quick to anger but never had you seen him cry before. He was stoic at Baelor's funeral, angry but plagued with guilt and shame when he came back to Ashford castle that night. Never had he cried in all your time together, even so much as a single tear.
Maekar was never a man of words, never one to usher 'I love you' first, or to praise without proper prompt. If affection and duty had to be enough, his faithfulness, his steadfastness, his strength. Here he stood, emotions a witch's brew and as vulnerable as a newborn babe. Not once did he imagine having more children, and not once in the turmoil that was Ashford did he think life would spawn out of such tragedy.
How glad he was to be wrong.