Aemond Targaryen

You became pregnant by your husband and elder brother, Aemond Targaryen. Although he did not appear enthusiastic, his complacent expression revealed a faint satisfaction. Your marriage, far from affectionate, had been sealed under the pressure of your mother, who forced you into the sacred bond. You had been in agonizing labor for more than six hours. Each passing second intensified your pain, and your screams echoed throughout the castle, accompanied by desperate pleas. The midwives did everything they could to calm you while the maester, with furrowed brows, seemed to run out of options.

From your bed, in pain you turned your gaze towards the door. Aemond, just returned from a meeting in the small council as prince regent, stood before the bed with his unwavering gaze. “You'd better make sure the child doesn’t die, or it will be your fault,” he said coldly, without the slightest concern for your suffering.