Four weeks after he arrived at the Tower of Joy, the Prince sat on the edge at the top of the Tower, looking far towards the northeast.
He had been sitting there since dawn, almost as if he was waiting for someone, and now it was nearly noon.
Lyanna had entered the labour early in the morning, and her painful cries made Azaerys wince from time to time.
Yes, he had seen people being tortured and inflicted the worst of pains, seen horrors that would make any sane mind go crazy, but those were all memories, a dream, and he could not gauge their pain as well as he could do in reality. And even though he did not know what Lyanna was really feeling, he could tell that she was in a lot of pain.
"Your Grace." Arthur, who climbed up the Tower, came to ask him to freshen up for lunch but raised his brow when Azaerys drew his hand and pointed towards the northeast.
"They are here, Arthur."
The Knight looked in the direction he pointed towards, failing to spot anyone, but he still kept looking.
A minute later, he finally saw figures tiny as ants, coming from the horizon, and he gritted his teeth and turned around to climb down the Tower.
"Arthur."
"Yes?"
"Don't die."
"Of course." The man smiled at his words. "Shall I kill the Usurper's friend?"
"No. Leave him and one of his companions alive. Kill the rest."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Ser Gerold, the Commander of Kingsguard, his Kingsguard, now wielded Lamentation, which Azaerys had bestowed on him. And the Knight, even in his forties, was a force to be reckoned with.
The Young King had faith in his Knights' abilities, and though he felt a little restless in his heart, he was not worried about the result.
The White Bull led Oswell Whent and Jaremy Rykker to meet the rebels who were galloping towards them, and Arthur soon joined them at the foot of the Tower.
The four Knights stood in the line, protecting the passage that led to the Tower, and a quarter of an hour later, Eddard Stark, the new Lord of Winterfell, arrived at the foot of the hill with his companions, which included Lord William Dustin, Holland Reed, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, Theo Wull, and Mark Ryswell.
They got off their horses to catch a breath, took their time to ready their weapons and assess the surroundings, and then slowly walked up the steep passageway, staying very alert.
When they saw the three Kingsguard and another famous Knight of the Seven Kingdom standing guard at the foot of the Tower, waiting for them, they tensed up.
The mere presence of Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower was enough to make them question their life choices, but it was too late now. They dared not turn their back to these men, as death would be their only end.
"I looked for you on the Trident," Ned said to them, taking a moment to get a grip on his nerves.
"We were not there," Ser Gerold answered.
"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," said Ser Oswell.
"When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were."
"Far away," Ser Gerold said, "or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells."
"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Ned informed them, "and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."
"Our knees do not bend easily," said Ser Arthur Dayne with the slightest of smiles.
"Ser Willem Darry fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys before the battle at the Trident even concluded. I thought you might have sailed with him."
"Ser Willem is a good man and true," said Ser Oswell. "But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out.
"The Kingsguard does not flee. Not then or now," said Ser Arthur as he donned his helm, making it clear that he intended to bathe his sword in their blood.
"You see, we swore a vow," explained old Ser Gerold with a playful smile as he donned his helm as well.
Ned's companions moved up beside him, with their swords in hand. They were seven against four, but they felt like they were at a very big disadvantage.
"Your Prince, the one they call the Evil Charmer, is missing," Ned said, gauging their expressions. "We did not find the Princess and her children at the Keep either."
All four Knights stayed tight-lipped, and Lord Stark started finding it hard to breathe.
"Where's my sister?" He coldly asked and narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the Tower.
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." Said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, "And now it begins,"
He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light, and its sparkle made the rebels narrow their eyes.
"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends."
As soon as his words fell, he rushed forward with his men, and Theo Wull, who was a giant of a man, was the first to fall as Ser Gerold's powerful blow cut right through his sword and his thick body as if they were made of butter.
And once he fell, what happened next was just a blur for the rebels.
Ned remembered hearing the cry of Howland Reed, the guttural groan of Lord Dustin, and then he was on the ground, rolling away as Ser Jaremy Rykker tried to hack him to pieces.
The sound of the clanking swords hammered his soul, and he could hear his heart thumping in his ears.
By the time he managed to hold off the Knight, the Stark found the three Kingsguard looking at him, and behind them, he could see his companions lying on the ground in pools of Blood.
Suddenly, Howland Reed sprang to life and jumped on Ser Arthur Dayne's back, but Ser Oswell Whent was right by his side and responded in time, blocking his attempt to thrust his dagger into his sworn brother's neck.
"Very honourable of you," Ser Gerold raised his sword to end his life but stopped when Arthur spoke.
"Leave him. We need to keep two alive, but that is only if Lord Stark here surrenders."
"Ahhh!" Ned charged at them like a mad wolf, but Dayne effortlessly parried his sword away and pushed him back on the ground.
"Surrender" He warned, however, the Stark had seemingly lost his mind.
Just when he got back on his feet and wanted to charge forward again, Rykker sneaked up behind him and smacked the hilt of his sword on the back of his head, causing Lord Stark to drop like a sack.
Seeing how the battle had ended, without him needing to do anything, Azaerys stood up and walked back inside the tower to wait outside Lyanna's room.
And when he heard another painful scream, he grew anxious and barged inside. He walked straight up to the bed to hold her hand.
A mistake on his part, because the next time she screamed, she gripped his hand so tightly that he felt like his bones would snap.
However, he kept it to himself and showed her a comforting smile.
"Your Grace..."
The nurses who were about to ask him to leave stopped after seeing that Lyanna seemed invigorated again, and they continued guiding and helping her deliver the baby.
Azaerys stayed in the room for a quarter of an hour before Lyanna seemed to find the last bit of strength and made the one final push.
The cries of the newborn babe filled their hearts with relief, and when they handed the bundle of joy to her, the young mother could not restrain her smile and tears.
"It's a boy, My Lady." The nurse informed her as soon as the baby stopped crying after entering her embrace.
"I know. He's my Rhaemon. Rhaemon Targaryen."
"Lacks all the Targaryen features," Azaerys commented, almost sounding disappointed, but the smile on his face told another story. "Hopefully, he will grow up into a handsome Dragonlord."
"Hey, what do you mean by that?" Lyanna glared at him. "He takes after his mother. Of course, he will grow up to be a handsome young man."
"Sure, sure." The Young Prince teased her, and then gently smiled at his little brother, whose soulful eyes stared at him.
"He's smiling." She said when she traced the smile on her baby's face, a slight that melted her heart even more.
After she cooed at her child for several minutes, she started breastfeeding her baby under the instructions of the nurse.
The nurses laughed when they saw Azaerys shying his eyes away, and once Lyanna was done, she lifted the bundle of Joy and handed it to his older brother.
"I need some sleep now." She sinisterly said before closing her eyes, the Young Prince awkwardly held the babe in his arms, not knowing what to do.
"Young babes do not stay awake for long." The old nurse informed him, assuring him, and he heaved a sigh of relief before he started talking with his baby brother in High Valyrian.
Sure enough, just like the old Nurse had said, little Rhaemon did not stay awake for long. He barely stayed awake for just a few minutes after his first meal.
The Nurses cleaned up the new mother, who was fast asleep, made sure that her life was not in danger and that she was comfortable on the bed, and then they all went out to take the much-needed rest.
Azaerys debated if he should put the baby by its mother's side, but seeing her peacefully asleep, he carried the little Rhaemon outside to introduce him to the Knights.
It was a funny sight to the people as they watched him eat his lunch whilst carrying his sleeping brother in his arms.
And thankfully, hours later, Lyanna was the first one to wake up.
"Now I need some sleep." He told her before he handed Rhaemon back to her, and immediately bolted out of the room, leaving the young mother with a bright smile on her face.
The two had really become the best of friends in the last four weeks. And now, Lyanna always found herself waiting for his visits and listening to the stories he had to share.
But she did not like him whenever he corrected her in her stories. He called the stories she had read in the books made up, especially those from the North and of the First Men.
He was so sure of his words, almost as if he was there back then and had witnessed everything.
She really felt unwell whenever he called the First Men and the Andals the worst of the people, and said that their houses too were built on blood.
Other than that, he was the most loveable person in the world. How could anyone possibly dislike such a beautiful boy, whose mere smile could brighten your day?