Queen Alysanne had remained completely silent throughout the entire exchange between father and son. She watched Gaemon's small figure disappear into the corridor, waiting until the heavy oak doors finally clicked shut before speaking.
"Jaehaerys," she said softly, "do you truly intend to use Gaemon's method? He is entirely too young. It is not right for a child his age to be exposed to such cruel and dark things. We know almost nothing about this magic. What if there are terrible consequences for him? He is just a boy; he might hide the pain from us so we don't worry, and the results could be catastrophic."
"Alysanne, the boy is simply terrified for your safety," Jaehaerys replied, returning to the bed. "Do not let it distress you. I watched him closely just now. If this magic carried immediate, devastating consequences, he wouldn't have spoken of it so casually. Besides, this is an absolute last resort. If the Mother is kind and all goes well, we will never need to trigger this final failsafe."
Hearing Jaehaerys's calm reassurance, Alysanne finally let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She cherished her youngest son deeply and was terrified that tampering with Blood Sorcery would permanently scar him.
Yet, beneath the fear, she felt a profound warmth. The desperate lengths her husband and son were willing to go to protect her moved her deeply. Overwhelmed by emotion, she reached out and tightly grasped Jaehaerys's left hand.
Feeling the warmth of her palm, Jaehaerys gently squeezed back, offering his silent, unwavering support.
Looking at the man she had loved for decades, Alysanne whispered, "Do not worry, my love. I will be fine. I have survived this battle many times on my own strength, and I will survive it again."
Jaehaerys didn't say another word. He simply shifted his weight and pulled Alysanne gently into his arms, holding her close.
As their conversation ended, a heavy, comfortable silence settled over the bedchamber. The deep bond between the King and Queen seemed to cast a soft, comforting light against the encroaching darkness.
---
Over the next few days, Jaehaerys quietly made the grim preparations. He procured the necessary "life force" required for the blood magic. The plan was meticulously arranged: if the Queen's labor turned fatal, a man disguised as a sorcerer would be brought in to serve as a distraction. Meanwhile, Gaemon would remain hidden near his mother, secretly casting the spell.
With the failsafe firmly in place, the crushing anxiety that had been choking Gaemon finally eased. All they could do now was wait.
The wait wasn't long. A few days later, Queen Alysanne returned to the battlefield she had fought on ten times before: the birthing chamber.
It was the same room, the same corridor. The only difference this time was the tiny, silver-haired figure standing vigil among the anxious crowd.
Knowing the labor had only just begun and would likely take hours, the gathered family members huddled near the doors, speaking in hushed, anxious tones to distract themselves from the dread.
Waiting is always a torment, but waiting helplessly outside a locked door while a loved one fights for their life is a special kind of hell.
As the hours dragged on, the idle chatter died away. The agonizing screams echoing from the chamber slowly shifted from raw, desperate shrieks to faint, exhausted whimpers. The hearts of everyone in the corridor sank. They all knew exactly what that meant: the Queen's strength was failing.
Trapped outside by the strict rules of the birthing chamber, the family could do nothing but pace. The princesses fell to their knees, desperately praying to the Mother to show mercy and guide the Queen safely through the ordeal once more.
Standing rigidly near the doors, King Jaehaerys fought a violent war within himself. Every instinct screamed at him to tear the doors open and unleash Gaemon's magic. But the terror that the dark spell might severely injure his youngest son held him back. He forced himself to swallow his panic, burying the urge deep within his chest.
But even the most agonizing waits eventually end. The grueling labor, which had begun under the bright morning sun, finally drew to a close just as the thick black of night swallowed the Red Keep.
A weak, thining cry pierced the heavy silence of the corridor. The brutal contest between life and death was over, and Queen Alysanne had won.
Gaemon let out a shaky breath. He had been fully prepared to unleash the Blood Sorcery, but a natural survival was infinitely better. He had no idea what horrifying side effects injecting chaotic, stolen life force into his mother might cause. It was a vile magic, best left unused.
Inside the chamber, Grand Maester Elysar, who had delivered several of the royal children, quickly cleaned the newborn. Only then did he unlock the heavy doors. The impatient Targaryen family immediately flooded into the room.
The newborn, swaddled tightly in fine silk, lay quietly beside the exhausted Queen. Looking at the tiny, wrinkled face, it was impossible to tell if it was a boy or a girl.
Seeing the expectant looks of the family, Grand Maester Elysar bowed his head.
"Congratulations, Your Grace," he said, though his voice was noticeably hesitant. "It is another prince. However..."
The Grand Maester trailed off, his eyes darting nervously.
Jaehaerys's heart immediately plummeted. He recognized that look. Elysar had worn the exact same grim expression four years ago, right after Gaemon was born.
A cold knot of dread formed in the King's stomach. He gestured sharply for Elysar to follow him, leading the old man out of the crowded chamber and onto a secluded balcony nearby.
"Speak plainly here," Jaehaerys commanded coldly. "I will have no stammering or half-truths."
Jaehaerys had no patience for the Maester's delicate sensibilities.
Faced with the King's wrath, Elysar bowed deeply and delivered the blunt truth.
"As you command, Your Grace," he said quietly. "It is much the same as when Prince Gaemon was born. Her Grace's advanced age has taken a severe toll. The infant is tragically frail. His constitution is incredibly weak... it is highly unlikely the prince will live to see his third nameday."
Despite bracing himself for bad news, the blunt reality of the death sentence hit Jaehaerys like a physical blow. Anger, born of fear and grief, flared hot in his chest.
"Silence!" the King snapped. "Prince Gaemon was equally frail when he was born, and look at him now! He thrives! The boy has just taken his first breath; he will grow stronger in time."
Terrified by the King's outburst, Elysar dared not argue further. But in the quiet of his own mind, the Grand Maester knew the truth.
Prince Gaemon's survival was a miracle, an absolute anomaly, Elysar thought. I have examined this child thoroughly. His condition is far worse than a standard premature birth. With the medicine we possess, surviving three years is a physical impossibility.
Jaehaerys couldn't read the Maester's mind, but he wasn't a fool. He knew Elysar was a master of his craft; his diagnoses were rarely wrong. The odds of this child surviving were practically nonexistent.
Suddenly, a realization struck Jaehaerys like a bolt of lightning, sending a wild, desperate surge of hope through his chest. However, this was neither the time nor the place. He ruthlessly crushed the emotion, forcing his face back into a mask of cold authority.
"This conversation is over," Jaehaerys stated flatly. "You will bury the knowledge of the prince's condition deep within your chest. You will not breathe a word of this to anyone. If I hear even a whisper of this in the halls, you will answer to me."
Without waiting for Elysar to acknowledge the threat, Jaehaerys turned on his heel and strode back toward the birthing chamber.
Grand Maester Elysar was left standing alone on the cold balcony, shivering under the oppressive night sky, thoroughly cowed by the King's absolute fury.