"Gods can be cruel." Those were the words of your husband, after learning about your eldest son's condition. Aegon, only five years old, having a high fever. Maester told you, it would be a miracle if he survived the night.

And you felt like you failed, as a mother. You were forced into everything, by your father. You never wanted to be a Queen, Viserys' wife, and you certainly didn't want to be a mother at a young age. But here you were.

You gave Viserys three children already. Aegon, who was now five years old, Helaena, who was three, and Aemond who was two. Your mother died, when you were young, and you barely had any memories of her. You didn't know how to be a mother.

But when Aegon suddenly caught a cold, it was an instinct. You had wet nurses to take care of your youngest children. You didn't want to bring viruses to them, but you had to stay with your oldest, while he was fighting a high fever.

You prayed to the Gods, as you were sitting by Aegon's bed. He had his eyes closed all the time, if he was awake it was only for a few minutes, before falling asleep again. He sometimes coughed or muttered something in his sleep.

And you were sitting by him, all the time. Maester visited him every once in a while, but it depended on Aegon's strength whether he would survive this or not. And you watched, as Aegon slowly opened his eyes again, looking straight at you.