A choice like a knife

The corridors of the Red Keep trembled with hurried footsteps. Gold Cloaks guards bowed to make way, and the clatter of armor mingled with the sobs of the maids, forming an impenetrable net that quickly spread the devastating news of Aemma's premature birth throughout the entire castle.

Daemon held Rhaenyra and "hid" in the crowd. The little one was frightened by the chaos around her and clung tightly to his neck, burying her face in his shoulder, but she held back her tears, though her little hands were clenched white.

Daemon could feel the small body trembling in his arms. He gently patted her back to comfort her, but his gaze was fixed on the direction of Aemma's palace. His deep purple eyes were full of solemnity. Although he was not very close to Aemma, he knew her gentleness and kindness, and he knew what she meant to Viserys and Rhaenyra.

"Hurry! Faster!" Queen Alysanne, supported by Jocelyn and her daughter Rhaenys, her silver-grey dress askew, her usually dignified hair disheveled, and her face filled with anxiety, cried out, "Where's the midwife? Why hasn't the nun arrived yet?"

"Your Majesty, the nun and the most experienced midwife are inside!" the head maid reported as she ran, her voice trembling with tears, "But—but the baby is in a very bad position, it's stuck inside, and the midwife said—she said we can only choose one—"

"Choose one?" Alysanne stopped abruptly, her face turning deathly pale. Jocelyn, standing beside her, quickly supported her, her own eyes reddening. "How could this happen? Aemma isn't even twenty yet, this is her second child, how could this—"

Yes, Aemma House Arryn, born in the year 82 of the Conquest calendar, is only seventeen years old this year!

It has only been six years since she married her cousin Viserys in the ninety-third year of the Conquest calendar!

It had only been two years since she last gave birth to her twin daughter, Rhaenyra, ninety-seven years into the Conquest calendar. Rhaenys followed behind, her hand tightly gripping the arm of her husband, Corlys, who had caught up. Looking at her panicked mother, Jocelyn, her light purple eyes were filled with worry. "Mother, don't worry, Aemma has always been healthy. She'll be alright."

Even so, her voice trembled almost imperceptibly—she recalled the perilous birth of Laena, and knew that childbirth in the Targaryen royal family was always a brush with death.

Baelon supported King Jaehaerys. Although the old king's steps were somewhat unsteady, he still kept his back straight, though his hand holding the ruby scepter trembled slightly.

He gazed at the brightly lit palace ahead, a flicker of pain crossing his eyes, as if remembering his lost children. His voice was low and hoarse. "Make way, make way, let us in."

The door to the bedchamber was hastily pushed open by a maid, and a strong smell of herbs and blood wafted out, mixed with Aemma's suppressed groans of pain, making everyone's heart tighten.

The candlelight flickered in the room, and several midwives knelt beside the bed, their foreheads covered in cold sweat and their hands stained with blood, anxiously whispering something to each other;

The nuns stood around, holding Bibles and praying softly, their voices filled with despair.

Viserys knelt before the bed, his hands tightly gripping Aemma's, his face as pale as paper, his lips trembling, yet he could not utter a single word.

Aemma's face was deathly pale, her forehead covered in large beads of sweat, her soaked hair clinging to her cheeks. Each breath was accompanied by a heart-wrenching scream of pain. Her once gentle eyes were now unfocused with agony, and she could only clutch Viserys's hand tightly, calling out to her husband intermittently, "Viserys —it hurts—my child—"

"Aemma, I'm here, I'm here!" Viserys ' voice choked with emotion, tears finally streaming down his face, dripping onto Aemma's hand. "Please hold on a little longer, the baby will be alright, and you will be alright too!"

"Your Highness, it's no use!" The head midwife suddenly looked up, her face streaked with tears. "The baby is breech, stuck in the pelvis. If we delay any longer—both the lady and the baby will die! You must make a decision quickly: save the lady, or save the young prince?"

"Protect—Protect—" Viserys ' lips trembled, but he couldn't utter the rest of the words.

He looked at his wife, who was suffering terribly on the bed, and thought of the child in her womb, whom he had not yet met. One was his beloved wife who had known and cherished him for many years, and the other was the male heir he had longed for. This choice was like a red-hot knife, stabbing his heart hard.

He abruptly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the relatives and friends who had flooded into the room, as if seeking redemption:

King Jaehaerys stood in the doorway, his silver beard trembling slightly with his breath, his purple eyes filled with deep sorrow, but he remained silent.

He lost nearly a dozen children in his life, from newborn babies to grown princes and princesses. Each loss was like a knife to his heart. He knew better than anyone the cruelty of such a choice, yet he could not make the decision for Viserys.

Queen Alysanne was already sobbing uncontrollably, held tightly by Jocelyn, her shoulders heaving violently.

She thought of her children who had died young, of her eldest son Aegon who had only lived for three days. Tears blurred her vision, and she kept repeating, "Can't we save them all—we must save all our children—"

Baelon stood beside his father, his dragon-patterned tuxedo, outlined in crimson and gold thread, stained with dust. His face was as heavy as a dark cloud, and the old wound under his ribs seemed to ache faintly from the emotional turmoil, yet he still kept his back straight.

Looking at his eldest son's pained state by the bedside, a flicker of pity crossed his eyes, but he could only say in a deep voice, "Calm down, Viserys, calm down. You are Aemma's husband, the father of Rhaenyra and Aemma's unborn child, and my heir. You must make a decision."

Jocelyn patted Alysanne's back, tears streaming down her face. She looked at Viserys, her voice choked with emotion, "Viserys, Aemma is a good girl. She's young. You have so much time together—"

She swallowed her words halfway through, ultimately unable to utter the rest—she knew that no matter what she said, it would be hurtful.

Rhaenys walked to the bedside, gently took Aemma's other hand, and said in a soft but firm voice, "Aemma, hold on, we're all here. Viserys, think about it, what will happen to Rhaenyra if Aemma isn't here? She's still so young, she can't be without her mother."

Corlys stood behind his wife, his long, silvery hair falling over his shoulders, his knuckles white as he gripped the brass binoculars tightly in his hand.

He didn't speak, but gestured to Viserys with his eyes that he and Rhaenys had also faced the dangers of childbirth, and he knew that his wife's life was more important than anything else.

Daemon stood in the corner, holding Rhaenyra. The little one finally couldn't hold back any longer. Terrified by the oppressive atmosphere in the room and Aemma 'Daemon cries of pain, she burst into tears, crying out, "Uncle Little Daemon, Mother—Mother hurts—I want Mother—"

Rhaenyra's cries shattered the deathly silence of the room like a thunderclap.

Viserys turned sharply, looking at his daughter's tear-stained face. He remembered Aemma's usual love for Rhaenyra, and the gentle way she sewed clothes for his daughter and told her stories. His heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly, and he felt so painful that he couldn't breathe.

"Rhaenyra— " Aemma heard her daughter's cries, struggled to open her eyes, and tried to raise her hand to touch her daughter, but she didn't even have the strength to lift her hand, and could only let out a weak moan, "My daughter—"

"Aemma!" Viserys quickly leaned down and pressed his ear to her lips. "I'm here, I'm right here!"

"Child—if I—if we can only choose one—to save—" Aemma's words were interrupted by a sharp pain. She cried out and fainted.

"Aemma! Aemma!" Viserys cried out anxiously, reaching out to check her breath. Thankfully, she was still breathing, but had fainted.

"Your Highness! Make a decision quickly! The lady has fainted; if we delay any longer, it will be too late!" The midwife's voice was filled with a desperate scream.

Viserys's gaze swept over the crowd again, as if trying to draw strength from each of them:

Daemon Targaryen leaned against the doorframe, the hem of his black and red riding attire sweeping across the ground. His usually carefree eyes were now filled with seriousness. He looked at Viserys, his lips moved, but in the end he only said, "Brother, don't regret it."

Vaegon stood on the outermost side, leaning against the wall, holding the book "The Chronicle of the Stars" in his hands, but not turning a single page.

He wore a gray academic gown, his face expressionless, but his eyes held a hint of pity, as if he had already seen through the entanglement of fate.

Leonno Strong stood between his eldest son Harwin and his second son Larys, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight. He looked at Viserys with worry in his eyes—he and Viserys were close friends, and he knew his kindness, but he also understood that he had to make a decisive decision at this moment.

As for Viserys ' other close friend, Otto, who had just suffered a heavy blow at the Small Council, he was being supported by his daughter Alicent. His dark green velvet robe was somewhat disheveled, and his face still showed the distraught look he had on at the Small Council. However, when he saw Viserys ' predicament, a complex emotion flashed in his eyes.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he only sighed softly.

Viserys's gaze fell on Jaehaerys and Baelon, the two most important male elders in his life, with whom he had experienced countless life-and-death separations and countless difficult choices.

He remembered his grandfather telling him that he and his grandmother, Queen Alysanne, had more than a dozen children, excluding miscarriages, but only nine survived to infancy, and four of them died before reaching adulthood. Now, only his father Baelon, his uncle Vaegon, his aunt Gael, and his aunt Saera, who had been stranded in Volantis, remained alive.

When Grandfather said this, his tone was as calm as if he were telling someone else's story, but as he turned away, he secretly wiped the corner of his eye.

He recalled how his mother, Alyssa, had a difficult childbirth while giving birth to her youngest brother Aegon. Daemon Targaryen out of the delivery room but did not survive the following year. Aegon also died six months later, leaving behind his father, himself, and his young brother, Daemon Targaryen.

My father said those were the darkest days of his life. He had to be both a father and a mother, and also handle the affairs of the kingdom. He spent countless nights holding his mother's belongings.

"Viserys, my eldest grandson," Jaehaerys, the grandfather and maternal grandfather of both Viserys and Aemma, finally spoke, his voice aged yet carrying an undeniable strength, "I know this is difficult, but you must make a choice now. Your grandmother and I understand the pain of losing a child; your father understands the pain of losing a wife."

But remember, you are the king's grandson, the crown prince's son; every decision you make affects the future of the Targaryen.

"Father," said Jaehaerys, stepping forward as Baelon patted Viserys on the shoulder, his hand steady and firm, "You and Aemma are still young, and you have many opportunities to have children. But if you lose Aemma, not only will Viserys lose her mother, but you will also lose your most important support. I believe you know that it took me five whole years to recover after losing your mother, Rhaenyra I don't want you to repeat my mistake."

"But—the child—" Viserys ' voice was hoarse, tears blurring his vision, "that's my child too—"

"I know," Baelon's voice softened, a flicker of pain in his eyes, "I also lost my son shortly after birth, a pain I'll never forget. But Viserys, you must understand, those who are alive are the most important."

Silence fell in the room again, broken only by Aemma's faint breathing and Rhaenyra's sobs.

Viserys knelt before the bed, holding Aemma's cold hand tightly, feeling her faint pulse. His mind flashed through memories of his time with Aemma like a movie:

I remember when they first met, Aemma was wearing a light blue dress, standing in the garden of the Red Keep, holding a rose in her hand, smiling gently;

I remember on their wedding day, Aemma wore a pure white dress, her eyes full of hope for the future, and said to him, "Viserys, I will always be with you."

He recalled Aemma's weak yet happy smile when Rhaenyra was born, as she carefully placed the child in his arms and said, "Look, this is our daughter."

Thinking back on all these years, Aemma took care of the household chores and his daily needs. Whenever he was tired from handling official business, she would quietly hand him a glass of warm ale and gently say, "Don't work too hard, I'm here with you."

These images were like gentle knives, softly cutting into his heart.

He suddenly remembered Rhaenyra's crying, the way his daughter had clung to Aemma's leg and called "Mother" before everyone came to the palace, and how Aemma was still thinking about her daughter before she fell unconscious. A sudden clarity came to his mind.

Just then, a deep, clear voice rang out in the room, seemingly from an unknown voice, yet it shone like a light on Viserys's chaotic thoughts. "You are still young."

These words, though spoken softly, carried immense weight, like Jaehaerys's composure, Baelon's steadfastness, Rhaenyra's gentleness, and Vaegon's clarity.

Viserys jolted, abruptly raising his head. The confusion in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a difficult yet resolute determination.

He looked at Aemma, unconscious on the bed, at her pale face, at her furrowed brow in pain, and finally closed his eyes. With all his remaining strength, he cried out hoarsely, "Save the mother! I must save my wife, I must save Aemma!"

These three words, like a boulder thrown into a deep pool, instantly shattered the silence in the room.

The midwives were stunned for a moment, then, as if saved, they immediately turned and busied themselves, shouting, "Quick! Prepare hot water! Get the tools!"

The nuns' prayers grew more devout, tears streaming down their faces, yet carrying a hint of relief.

Queen Alysanne could no longer hold back and leaned against Jocelyn's chest, bursting into tears. This time, however, it was tears of joy.

At this moment, the baby in Aemma's womb is her and her husband's great-grandchild, but Aemma is also her and her husband's granddaughter, the bloodline left behind by her daughter Daenella, who also had a difficult childbirth and later died of puerperal fever!

Baelon let out a long sigh, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes. He reached out and patted his father's shoulder. King Jaehaerys also nodded gently, his purple eyes filled with weariness, yet also with a sense of relief.

Rhaenys released Aemma's hand, gently walked to Daemon's side, and softly patted Rhaenyra's head, her voice gentle. "It's alright, don't cry, your mother will be alright."

Rhaenyra nodded, seemingly understanding, but still clung tightly to Daemon's neck, turning her head towards the bed and whispering, "Mother—"

Daemon held Rhaenyra in his arms, looking at Viserys slumped on the ground, a complex feeling rising in his heart.

He knew how much courage it took for Viserys to make this decision, and he knew that this decision would stay with him for the rest of his life.

Viserys slowly opened his eyes, tears still streaming down his face, but as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he swayed slightly and was quickly supported by the attendants beside him.

He looked at Aemma on the bed, repeatedly saying, "Aemma, hold on, I'm here, I've always been here—"

Otto stood at the doorway, watching this scene, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes—a mixture of relief, pity, and a barely perceptible sense of melancholy.

Alicent gently held his arm, softly comforting her father who had already suffered too many blows today. "Father, His Highness Viserys has made the right decision."

Otto did not respond, but simply sighed softly and turned to walk out. He had already suffered a crushing defeat at today's Small Council, and now the matter of his close friend Viserys' wife, Aemma, made him realize even more how insignificant the calculations of power were in the face of life.

At that moment, Vaegon silently put away the book "The Chronicle of the Stars" in his hand, turned around and left the room with his assistant and student, Bachelor Bernard, leaving behind only a silent figure.

He should have left King's Landing long ago to return to the Citadel to pursue his studies, but he stayed until now only because of the repeated pleas of his elderly father, the queen mother, and his elder brother and younger sister. He never expected that on the eve of his departure, the younger generation of his family would suffer such misfortune.

Inside the room, the sounds of midwives bustling about, the nuns praying, and Aemma's faint breathing mingled together, creating a hymn to life.

Viserys sat on the edge of the bed, holding Aemma's hand tightly, his eyes filled with determination and anticipation.

He knew that this decision might be a lifelong regret for him, and that he would always remember this unborn child.

But he knew even more that Aemma was an indispensable part of his life, Rhaenyra's mother, and the pillar of his future.

The words "You are still young" were like a seed planted in his heart.

He and Aemma are indeed still young, and perhaps they will have the opportunity to have more children in the future, which may make up for today's regrets.

But he didn't know that once the gears of fate start turning, they won't stop easily.

Today's cruel choice is just the beginning of countless difficult decisions in his life.

If faced with a similar dilemma again in the future, will he be able to make the same decision? Will he regret his choice today?

Nobody knows the answer.

At this moment, the candlelight in the Red Keep still flickered, illuminating every expectant face in the room.

Aemma's breathing gradually calmed down, and a hopeful smile appeared on the faces of the midwives.

Viserys looked at his wife's face, gently kissed the back of her hand, and had only one thought in his mind: Aemma, you must be safe.

As for that unborn child, he will always remember it in his heart, as a lifelong regret and a lifelong warning.

As the night deepened outside the window, moonlight streamed through the windowpanes onto the bed, like a gentle veil enveloping the couple who had endured so much hardship.

The sounds in the room gradually softened, with only Viserys's soft murmurs remaining, exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

This test of life and choices is not over yet, but at this moment Viserys knows that he has taken the most difficult step.

And no matter how many storms lie ahead, he will accompany Aemma and Rhaenyra on their journey.

But that's fate; who knows what decision he'll make next?