i. Gael was two-and-ten by the time Maegor Targaryen was born. She held the babe in trembling arms, her father standing behind her, beaming down at the two of them. Or at least, she supposed he did. She couldn't see his face. Her eyes were glued to the round, scrunched and red face of her brother.
He was rather ugly truth be told. Gael giggled as Maegor yawned. "I am your older sister," she told the babe. His eyes were moving but his gaze was unfocused. "And you are my baby brother. So sleep easy for you are loved and protected.
She deposited the child back in his crib and the wet-nurse moved in to care for him.
ii. Uncle Jon held Aemma on one knee and Aenya on the other. The first of them was clapping enthusiastically at the performance on the fool, while the other had hidden herself against her uncle's dark robes.
"I could take one of them," Baela offered. Gael's junior by only a short year, she was always willing to help Uncle Jon watch the children when he happened to be in King's Landing. Gael would tease her sometimes, wondering out loud if she would do the same as Rhaenyra Targaryen who married her own uncle, Daemon.
"Nay, 'tis well," Jon declined. "They are so well behaved." As well behaved as a couple of little girls could be.
iii. Aegon clashed swords with Jon. Seldom did he have such pleasing sparring partners as Jon. "Stay longer, brother. At least until Visenys gives birth again. She misses you dreadfully, you know?"
If it were any other person that Visenya missed, Aegon supposed the man would find himself a head shorter. But since it was Jon, he could understand their bond linked them in a special way.
Jon lunged in a second attack. "I am not sure it is wise. I would not wish to make trouble for anyone." He was speaking of Rhaenys, of course.
His sister had become a bit unmanageable since she had birthed her son.
iv. "Who allowed you in the nursery?" Rhaenys raised her voice, stepping deliberately in Visenya's path. "How dare you?"
"I merely came to see my nephew," Visenya replied calmly, stroking her middle with languid movements. "Congratulations, he is a beautiful child."
"He is Aegon's heir." There was a threat somewhere in there, but Visenya merely brushed it off. "Do you hear me; he will be king."
"Indeed." Visenya pushed her gently aside, just enough so she might walk past her.
Rhaenys ran to the crib and took her son up, holding her to her breast. "What did she do to him?" she asked the wet-nurse.
The woman gave her a long stare. "She looked at him for a few moments."
v. "That flower is very pretty," Aegon said, picking Aenya up in his arms. The little girl squealed with glee and shouted out for Aemma to help her. Aemma, brave shield-maiden that she was, lunged forward with a battle cry, something akin to a laughter-ridden yell.
"I will rescue you," she proclaimed and caught onto their father's leg. "Mother, come quick."
Visenya shared a look with Gael as Baela hid her face within her hands and groaned. Aemma continued to screech for her mother. Seeing that she had no recourse, Visenya stood up from the bench and trotted over.
"I vanquish thee, fiend," she told Aegon, tapping his head gently with one finger.
Thankfully, the foe was felled. Aemma and Aenya cheered. Aegon laughed from his position on the ground.
vi. Maegor gurgled happily in his father's arms. Baela entertained Aemma and Aenya, as Gael stared into the fire. Rhaenys gave dubious glances towards the younger girl every few minutes, but she no longer protested their presence in the room.
The subtle tension in the room was a charged thing even if the occupants did their best to ignore it. Jon shifted his weight nervously from one leg to another. The waiting would do them all in, he thought. It was always the waiting that caused the most anxiety. Within the silence once could hear the strangest things. Jon shuddered lightly. He moved away from the window.
vii. Magella had the eyes of a Stark. Visenya marvelled at those unfocused eyes and cooed softly at the babe. Maelanya struggled against her soft cocoon of silk and linen, fussing and weeping. Aegon took her in the cradle of his arms. Unlike her sister, her eyes were a more Targaryen-typical light lilac.
"I should think you'd have tired holding all these children," Visenya teased.
"I couldn't possibly tire of it," Aegon replied. "They are my children."
"So they are," the mother agreed. "Now give her back to me, she needs to be fed."
Indeed, the babe grew quiet and appropriately busy with suckling nourishment from her mother the moment Visenya placed the small mouth at her breast.
viii. Pulling the long braid that dandled down Maelanya's back, Maegor erupted in a fit of giggles. Maelanya cried out and turned around like a whirlwind. "Leave off," she told him in the sternest manner she was capable of.
"Or what? You'll go crying to your mother?" he taunted.
Unfortunately for him, Magella had snuck behind him unnoticed. She caught him by the shoulder, dinning her nails into his flesh. Maegor let go of Maelanya's braid with a yelp. "Our mother should be the last of your worries."
"Maegor Targaryen, you are not nice at all," Maelanya said, scowling at him. If she was a soft breeze, her sister was a hurricane.
"I don't have to be nice." He scowled right back at her.
ix. Aemma raised her head to look upon the Mother's altar. Aenya stood at the back of Baelor's Sept, holding Rhaena's hand. The youngest of the sisters, the child could barely sit still. Finishing her prayer, Aemma climbed to her feet.
Septa Unora put a hand on her shoulder. "Speak to your father, child. You belong to the Faith. I can see it in your eyes."
"I shall. Soon." Rhaena ran up to her and grabbed her by the hand, whispering rather loudly that she was bored and wished to go riding, and would Aemma please hurry up so they could go home.
Aenya gave her older sister an apologetic look.
x. "You should wed," Visenya said. "You could have children of your own, you know."
Jon laughed. "The time is long past for me to wed, Visenya. I already have children to dote on and at the rate you are going, I shall drown in them. Or run a hole in my budget. Whichever comes first."
"I never asked for the gifts," she protested, a good-natured smile blooming on her lips. "You have no one to blame but yourself."
"Which is why I am only too happy to give them." He gave her a smile of his own. "Now let us discuss Gael's visit to Pentos."