Anonymous:
helloo, if you have time and feel like it, could yo do aemond x and wife reader where she’s giving birth and she’s having trouble and the maester suggests saving the baby or the mother and aemond gets super angry, but it turns out good with both sage and alive
Absolutely! I appreciate the addition there at the end, Nonny, because those scenes in the show were traumatizing so this fic is gonna be a more "ohh, false alarm" kinda situation but Aemond still will be confronted by the choice (and get realllly angry it wasn't necessary after all)
Word count: 819
Aemond x f!reader | childbirth | reader is having a rough time
Sweat beaded on your brow, furrowed with the intense pain setting every vein in your body on fire. “Aemond.” You could barely gulp enough breath to cry out his name, but your husband heard and gripped your clammy hand tighter in his.
You had been in labor for hours, the midwives and maesters all milling around in the dark candelit room, dabbing at your forehead with clothes soaked in cool water, murmuring encouragements as you fought to bring your baby into the world.
Tears ran down your cheeks as you looked up to the ceiling, desperate to escape this body racked in agony. Your vision blurry, you could see the silver hair of your husband like a halo about his head as he watched your slow progress with evident worry and frustration at his own helplessness.
You felt the babe within you shifting and stretching. You screamed, your voice rasping against your raw vocal cords. Aemond looked around for the head maester. “Is there nothing that can be done to ease her pain?” His own voice was strained from the stress of seeing his wife suffer and be powerless to end it.
The wizened maester shuffled over to the Targaryen prince, speaking low so you could not hear his words even if you’d been paying attention. Aemond pried your fingers off his hand gently, promising to return swifty before he followed the old healer to a dark corner of the room.
“You have a choice set before you, my prince.” The old man looked at Aemond with a mixture of sadness and apprehension. “If the princess delivers this babe naturally, it will not survive.” The maester hastened on as Aemond opened his mouth to protest. “The only way the babe has a chance at survival is to undergo a procedure that your wife will not survive.”
Aemond recoiled, his hands balled into fists, he had half a mind to strike the repugnant man down where he stood. Breathing hard through his nose, Aemond’s eye flickered to where you lay still crying out in agony. “Why would she not survive the procedure to save our child?”
“It involves cutting the baby out of the woman’s womb.” The maester looked warily at the Targaryen prince, backing away slightly at the fire in his violet eye.
“You think,” Aemond hissed, “I would sacrifice the life of my wife, have her cut open like a piece of meat, on the chance that our baby might survive? No.” He squared his shoulders, looking down his nose at the old man. “Even if our child survived your barbaric experiment, it would have no mother and an empty shell of a father. That’s not a life I would willingly give them.”
“As you wish, my prince.” The maester bowed, turning towards the birthing chair but stopped as Aemond placed a hand upon his hunched shoulder.
“You will proceed with the natural birth, making it as comfortable as possible for Lady Y/N.” Aemond’s voice held low warning. “If I detect even a minute lack of effort towards her safety, you will not see the dawn.”
Aemond returned to your side, you spared him a quizzical look before another spasm of pain shook through you. You took his hand once more, squeezing his fingers, as the servants and healers around you redoubled their efforts at the behest of the head maester.
It was several hours more, the pain in your body seeming to twist into your very soul, before progress was made. The humid candlelit room echoed with the cries of a newborn babe as, with a last herculean effort, it was pushed out into the waiting arms of the midwife.
Tears slid down your face, now of relief and joy instead of pain. The babe was cleaned and brought in a bundle of blankets to your chest where your shaking arms held her to you. “It’s a girl.” You whispered as Aemond knelt next to his small family.
He caressed your damp hair with one hand while letting your daughter take the index finger of his other. Her tiny pink hand clasped his finger tightly, her crying ceased as her violet doe eyes looked from him back up to your face.
“She looks like you.” You smiled at your husband, his own purple eye sparkling with unshed tears.
He leaned forward, kissing you deeply before laying a gentle kiss to your baby’s small head. “Rest, my loves.” Aemond rose, looking to where the head maester had just exited through the door. “I will return shortly, there is something I wish to discuss with the maester.”
You recognized the purposeful intent behind the way your husband walked after the old healer, wondering wearily what happened to anger him so. You pulled your daughter closer as she nuzzled against your breast, placing a sweet kiss to her little face. Exhaustion lay heavy upon your eyes, under the watchful care of the midwives and your husband you let your aching body rest at last.
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