Daenerys counted the maesters around the court. She'd said she would make an announcement at midday and her closest maester was shaking her head each time she looked at him, anxious to begin. She counted the maesters' chains next, how many links each had on it. The maesters that she had posted across the room, in the corners, by the entrance, were too far from her to count their chains. She searched her memory, trying to remember which maester had which chains. She was sure that-
The clearing of a throat broke her off. She glanced up, tapping her fingers against the arms of the Iron Throne, to find her closest maester, her timekeeper, nodding. It was midday, a good time for an announcement.
Upon standing, the entire court went silent. It sent a giddy rush to her head. She heard Jon rise behind her. He disagreed with this decision, said it was too early, but Dany didn't like secrets. "I want to inform you all that I am carrying the heir to the Iron Throne."
The immediate cheer satisfied Dany that she had made the right decision. Now it would not only be her and Jon protecting their baby, but all of them. And perhaps they would think twice before attacking her. And perhaps it would bring some people on side, now that she was going to provide an heir. Every kingdom wanted an heir.
"I have invited the best maesters from the Seven Kingdoms to assist me through this." Her maesters seemed to stand straighter at her words. Dany smiled. "I know that you too will wish me good health and do everything you can to support me." There was another cheer.
Dany left soon afterwards, deciding not to hold a session for her people to come to her. She knew that they would only want to talk about the baby and she didn't know enough yet. She was studying her books, every book that the maesters gave her, about childbirth and pregnancy. She wanted to be as prepared as possible. Jon had promised to read some too, which Dany thought was extraordinarily sweet, given that he did not like to read.
They reached their chambers together and, reminded of her husband's kindness, Dany went on her tiptoes to give him a lingering kiss. He grinned, following her line of thought, opened the door with one hand, while his other stroked the small of her back, making Dany tingle.
When they had giddily stumbled inside, she kicked the door closed behind her, taking no time at all to jump onto the bed and allow her husband to join her.
XXX
Pregnancy was hard. Every morning, without fail, for the past month, Dany had met with her maesters, before even the Small Council. The Council agreed that her pregnancy was the most important thing to secure the reign, even more so than the ships or the laws. An heir was the one thing that solidified a dynasty and that was what Dany was going to provide.
She had twenty maesters, to whom she would ask questions and thoughtfully receive each of their advice. Her favourite was a small man, from just outside of King's Landing, who had come to her and explained that he was an expert in all things pregnancy. She had been all too happy to take him on. There was a significant lack of maesters who specialised in pregnancy, most of them leaving it to midwives, which Dany refused to do. The midwives had no formal training and nothing to recommend them beyond a few peasants' births. No, maesters were the way to go.
She was just listening to the advice of one of her maesters about back pain when her stomach lurched, for the third time during the meeting and the sixth time that morning. She stood and was provided with a pail by her favourite maester, Maester Porle, who also helped her to keep her hair out of the way of her vomit.
None of the maesters looked too disgusted. Any that had the first time she had vomited during their meetings had been banished from her presence. The last thing she needed were maesters who could not even handle vomit. How would they handle a baby and all the things that came along with it?
The thought made Dany wince, as she pulled her head up from the pail. This sickness was new. There had always been sickness of course, but she had not expected it to continue. She was in her fourth month of pregnancy and she had been told by one of the maesters that it would end in her third month of pregnancy, especially if she took root of valerian. That had been stupid advice.
She looked around suddenly. She did not want anybody with such stupid advice around her. Cutting off the maester currently speaking, she said in a severe voice, "Who advised me to take root of valerian?"
There was a pause of silence before a tall, spindly maester, Maester Khallom put his hand on the table and said, "I did, your grace." His voice was tremulous, scared. Dany leaned back in her chair, smiling. Maester Khallom looked at ease. She summoned her guards and nodded at the maester.
"I want you to ensure that it was not malicious advice."
"It was not, your grace," Khallom said, his eyes wide as the Unsullied approached. They looked at her for clarification and she tutted.
"Question him!" she ordered.
The two guards nodded once and then escorted Khallom swiftly out of the room. Dany took a moment to appreciate their efficiency. "Now," she said, leaning forward and lying her hands on the table, "we will have no more stupidity here, will we? Let's continue."
She nodded at the maester she interrupted, who swallowed audibly before continuing.
XXX
Sansa's hands shook lightly as she knocked on the door to the queen's chambers. The guards had told her that they were no longer permitted to allow just anyone into her chambers, after maester's advice told her to be wary of those around her, who may wish to avoid a Targaryen heir to the throne. Sansa accepted that. She understood that Daenerys was wary, after having lost her first baby because of a curse from a witch. And, after the awful attack on Missandei, Sansa herself would be terrified of someone coming in and taking another of Daenerys' most precious people.
Daenerys' handmaiden answered the door. Sansa didn't know this girl's name and she had seen the pain on the queen's face every time she looked at her and didn't see Missandei. With a tight smile at the girl, Sansa slipped inside, hearing Daenerys call her name in a welcoming tone. Sansa found her relaxed on her chaise longue. She smiled at the sight.
Daenerys gave her a sheepish smile. "My maesters told me that I should keep my feet up. My ankles have already started to swell."
Sansa's had too. She sat down on an armchair beside Daenerys. "It's good that you're prioritising yourself and the baby. Jon is doing an excellent job during the court sessions."
Daenerys nodded distractedly, glancing out of the window. "Do the people prefer him?" she asked. Sansa shook her head.
"They know that you are a team and you are growing their heir. They have a high esteem for you, your grace," Sansa said honestly. Daenerys beamed. "I wanted to tell you something."
"What's that?" she asked, eyes wide.
"I'm pregnant too."
Daenerys gasped, her eyes going wide. "You're pregnant?" she exclaimed. Sansa nodded, smiling.
"Not many people know but I wanted to tell you, so that we can be pregnant together, go through it all together." Sansa had Brienne too but Brienne was keeping the pregnancy quiet for now.
"You ought to put your feet up," Daenerys said, shifting closer to the back of the sofa. "Put your feet here," she said, tapping the space beside her. Sansa smiled and did so. "I like your shoes."
"They're nice, aren't they?" Sansa said with a smile. "They were made in the North."
"You'll have to get me some for after the pregnancy," Daenerys said. "I think they're too high for pregnancy." Sansa furrowed her brow. There were only slight heels on the shoes. "One of my maesters says that the chance of falling in heels is too great and I should only wear flats."
Sansa smiled. Men knew nothing of heels. Tyrion had suggested the same thing to her and she had explained that she was hardly going to topple over because there was an inch or two on the bottom of her feet, especially at the beginning of her pregnancy when her balance was still fine. And she loved these shoes. They were comfortable and pretty. Daenerys' eyes widened. "No, you ought to take me seriously, Sansa."
Sansa realised that the queen thought she was mocking her with her smile. She smiled. "I was only thinking of a conversation with Tyrion, your grace. He too thought that heels were unsafe. I'll wear them until I start to lose my balance."
Daenerys furrowed her brow. "That is a common effect of pregnancy?" she asked. Sansa glanced at her handmaiden, who was focussed on watching the outside from the window, and then back at the queen.
"Yes, your grace. Your body is not used to the extra weight."
Daenerys shook her head slightly as if clearing it. "Of course, of course. Yes, we should certainly not be wearing heels then. I believe I have been feeling unbalanced." Sansa swallowed. "Raesha," she called. The handmaiden looked up, her dark eyes wide. "Bring Lady Sansa some flat shoes. She is too pregnant to be wearing heels."
"Oh," Sansa said, her eyes wide. "I was going to wait until-"
"Sansa, you cannot be too careful." Sansa just nodded and moved her feet from Daenerys' chaise longue in order for Raesha, the handmaiden, to adorn them with pretty blue slippers. "You may keep those." Sansa smiled.
"Thank you, your grace. They are beautiful."
Daenerys nodded idly. "Raesha, burn Sansa's other shoes." Sansa's eyes widened.
"Your grace-" It was too late. The shoes went onto the fire. Sansa mourned for the pretty lace that had adorned them, the intricate direwolves that had been embroidered on the heels. They had been a gift from her favourite shoemaker, when she had married Tyrion. Her mother had had similar ones, when she had arrived in the North, married to her father.
She shook her head slightly. She would get more. The shoemaker would happily make her more shoes. Sansa was hardly lacking in funds. They were only shoes. "Is there-" Sansa cut herself off, shaking her head slightly. "If you wanted to discuss anything about pregnancy, I would be only too happy to help."
Daenerys furrowed her brow. "This is your first pregnancy, is it not?"
Sansa swallowed. "Yes."
"It is my second. I lost Rhaego but I think I have slightly more experience than you."
Sansa nodded. "Of course, your grace. Only my mother-"
Daenerys shook her head. "I have the maesters too. I promise I will share whatever they tell me."
"Thank you," Sansa said, confused.
"You ought to go now, Sansa," Daenerys said. "You should be staying inside, now that you're pregnant. I'll make sure the guards know to look out for you."
Sansa nodded, a bit dizzied from the exchange. She wandered out of the chambers and returned to Tyrion, wondering whether she had just conversed with a madwoman or a woman who was simply concerned for her child. For now, she would give her the benefit of the doubt but they would have to stay longer to be sure. Sansa stifled a sigh. Her baby would definitely not be born in the North and terrible things happened when the Starks came South.
XXX
"The trial of the maester," Tyrion started, glancing around the table. Daenerys had invited him, as warden of the North, to take part in the Small Council meeting. They were held in Daenerys' solar now, rather than the Small Council's own meeting room, where Daenerys sat on her chaise longue, her feet elevated and a maester posted behind her for her health.
Tyrion had suggested that Sansa be invited too, as she was the true Wardeness of the North and he was only her husband, but Daenerys had reminded Tyrion that Sansa was pregnant and it would be taxing for her. Jaime had been surprised by this and he had not suggested that Brienne be invited. Jaime was the Warden of the West in his own right, so he too had been asked to advise. Tyrion didn't truly know how Daenerys felt about his brother, now. So much had happened but Jaime would surely always be the man who killed her father.
"What maester?" Daenerys asked. Tyrion swallowed.
"The maester who has been accused of poisoning, your grace. We have investigated and cannot find any evidence that he poisoned you." An uneasy feeling settled in Tyrion's stomach.
"Oh, yes, Maester Khallom. I remember."
"I believe we will schedule a trial, your grace, but it is likely he will be found innocent. Perhaps it would be better for the realm if we simply pardoned him now. Less embarrassing that way."
Daenerys quirked an eyebrow. Jaime cleared his throat next to Tyrion. "Embarrassing?" Tyrion said nothing. "There is no need for any further action in this case, Lord Tyrion."
Tyrion glanced around the table. Jon Snow looked particularly uncomfortable. "Why is that, your grace?"
"We gave him a position as a maester in the North."
"In the North?" Tyrion repeated.
Daenerys inclined her head. "As maester of the Wall."
Tyrion's shoulders fell, his lips parting. He met Jaime's eyes across the table. "The Wall," he repeated.
"Yes," Daenerys said impatiently. "Do I need to employ a parrot, Lord Tyrion? Must you hear everything twice?"
"Was he sent to the Wall as a punishment?"
"Yes," she said simply. "His bad advice, even if it were not poisoning, caused me to be ill. He has gone to the Wall to work with the other prisoners there and learn. His skills were lacking."
Tyrion decided to keep his mouth shut and not say that most maesters' skills were lacking in the area of childbirth. It had been long ago decided that women were superior to men in this area. Sansa had hired a midwife for herself, to help her, rather than a maester. He opened his mouth again but Daenerys cut him off.
"I am quite fed up of talking about poor maesters," she snapped. "If you want to continue, you may return to the North with your pretty pregnant wife, my lord."
Tyrion swallowed and nodded once, an apology. He and Sansa could not return to the North until they had decided whether or not Daenerys was a safe monarch. Having supported her for this long, Tyrion felt a responsibility to the realms, to make sure he had backed the right horse and given them a queen who would protect them.
XXX
Arya crept out of Daenerys' chamber, not changing her gait or her expression until she reached the chamber that she had chosen herself for the maester who was so highly esteemed by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. She chose it because it was directly above the chambers assigned to Arya Stark, the beloved sister of the King of the Seven Kingdoms, and her husband.
She stripped herself of her mask, of her robes, of everything that made her the maester, and then she hid it all away and took a few moments to 'live in' the chambers belonging to the maester. She used the chamberpot, she opened a book and placed it on the table, she rolled about in the bed. When she was done and the room looked sufficiently lived in, she slipped out behind a portrait and used the servants' staircase to access her own rooms.
Gendry was there, reading slowly. She was teaching him to read and she found it very sweet that he was so eager to learn. She grinned at him, creeping over with cat-like footsteps, and announced her presence with a loud clap of her hands. He dropped his book, screeching, and was confronted with Arya's devilish laughter.
"Arya!" he growled, chasing after her as she ran away from him, cackling madly. She threw herself onto the bed, allowing him to catch her, pinning her arms above her head. He pressed a kiss to her neck. "It was funny the first time," he allowed as he traced his lips over her jaw.
"You love it," she said breathlessly, arching her hips up to meet his.
Gendry harrumphed. "I love you," he conceded and Arya grinned, kissing him soundly on his lips.
"Even if I spend all day creeping around in old skin with a ballbag loose enough to brush my knees?" Gendry pulled back, loosening his hold on her arms. He gave her a look of disgust and she smirked.
"Did you have a successful day?" he asked simply. They did not really speak of her self-given mission aloud. Arya nodded once.
"Successful enough," she told him. "I'll tell you all about it later." She swung her legs around his waist, looping them together loosely. He grinned and bent close to her again, covering her lips with his own and making her forget all about maesters and medicine and making queens stay inside.