Chapter 16
HEALER GALEN
With every passing day, Galen found his responsibilities increasing further and further, as the care of the Royal Princess, Lady Aemma, fell into his hands. A slew of noble lords and ladies also began to seek him out, some for his expertise, while some just wished to curry some favor with the King and the Crown.
Slowly, but surely, he began to feel the weight of all his newfound responsibilities, for beyond all this, he was also overseeing the designing and construction of the first ever 'Hospital'.
In the end, he found himself in need of a helping hand, and though his friends were helpful enough, he needed someone well-versed in courtly politics to help him navigate the persistent lords and ladies eating away at his time.
"You wish to learn to heal," he asked, and the young Princess Gael nodded, as he found himself sitting in the Queen's solar once more, never expecting such words to come out of her mouth.
His eyes slowly turned towards the Queen sitting beside the Princess, as he tried to gauge her reaction to the words. Perhaps seeing his gaze lingering towards her mother, the young Princess cut in sharply.
"I am the one who wants to learn," she cut in, prompting him to look at her once more.
"Not my mother," and he did not know what to say to her at that time.
"She has the Crown's blessing," the Queen added, easing his worries as Gael Targaryen sat tall in the chair, and he gave a nod of understanding.
"She may have the Crown's blessing, but healing is not a simple art," he explained slowly trying to make her see some sense.
"It requires years upon years of studying and practice," he offered, and the Queen was quick to add.
"You could teach her the basics," the Queen added softly, and he had never really taught anyone, or at least not anyone who knew nothing about the art of healing.
"No," the Princess cut in once more, gazing into his eyes as she declared her lofty intentions.
"I want you to teach me everything. Everything that you know," and he could not do that even if he so desired, as he sighed.
"My lady, healing is a vast subject that would require rigorous studying and continuous practice. I am afraid it is no game for a woman of Royal blood and heritage..."
"I am the one who decided what is worthy of me, and what is not," and she seemed firm in her decision, and Galen found his patience running thin, for she was refusing to see reason.
"Father told me that you plan on training new Healers in this 'Hospital' of yours," she added, and she remained steadfast in her dream.
"Then I shall be the first student in the place, and see for myself what exactly you plan on teaching there," and amidst that, he cast a small glance at the Queen, who gave a slight nod, as he sighed and agreed to the request.
"Then so be it, but do understand, Princess, that I will not cheapen the lessons for you, and that you shall have to study and complete the same material and tasks as any other student," not that he had any yet, and she nodded.
"I will," and so the 'Hospital' had gained its first student, before it had opened its gates as Galen declared.
"Then I shall have a few tomes and texts brought to the Red Keep, they shall help you grasp the foundation of the subject," and she nodded enthusiastically, as the Queen cheered on.
"Well, with that done, would you mind telling me of Aemma's child?" and the young Princess was set to have a somewhat difficult birth, and though he had tried to prepare as much as he could, it still felt inadequate.
"I will not lie to you, but the Princess is set to have a difficult birth," he added, and the eyes of the two women dimmed at those words, and for good reason.
The birthing bed was a woman's battle, and all women were allies when it came to this battle, and the two of them were Aemma's family.
"How can you say that?" questioned the young Princess, her face losing some of the color she had gained in the last few weeks.
"There is still half a moon left in the time of the birth," and thankfully, he had enough time to have a goldsmith craft for him a pair of rudimentary delivery forceps, needle-holding forceps, and a suturing needle.
"Well, sadly the Princess's girdle is not the most suited for the birth of a normal child, let alone one who is larger than an average babe," and pelvimetry, and its importance was a concept that was known only by words at this time, and not through actual measurements.
"What will you do then?" questioned the Princess, her face aghast with worry and there was little that he could tell them.
"Well, there are some options available to me. So, while the situation is not ideal, I can assure you that I am making as many preparations as I can to deal with it," he assured them both.
"I do hope that you are not blind to the importance of this birth, Galen," and it was the Queen who spoke, and the hidden insinuation was not lost on him, for this was a chance for him to prove his mettle.
"The King has arranged a tourney just after the predicted date, and the entire realm hungers for celebration, and there is no greater cause for celebration than the birth of a Prince," and that may well be, but he could do only as much with the time and equipment available to him.
"..or Princess," the Lady Gael added, as her mother nodded.
"Yes, of course," and he sighed and assured them both.
"I understand, your grace, and I shall try my best to live up to your expectations..."
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DAEMON TARGARYEN
Daemon was jealous, as he sat there and watched his niece and family go on and on about the new, strange Healer taking care of her mother, and how he knew so much, and was going to help Aemma give birth to Rhaenyra's sibling.
And it was not that he hated Rhaenyra or children. No. Daemon loved his niece, loved his brother, and his family, yet what angered him was that healer.
That commoner bastard who had become the talk of the town.
"Do you really think it wise?" he turned towards Viserys, having joined him for the meal, as the four of them sat down for their dinner late into the night.
"Leaving the care of your wife and child in the hands of a no-name commoner," and Viserys frowned at his words, as Rhaenyra cut in, taking his words for their literal meaning.
"But he has a name, Galen," she added as Aemma brushed her hair, as Viserys, frowning, paid little heed to his warning.
"He is not a no-name Healer," Viserys answered, eyes still set on his food.
"He trained at the Citadel and saved Gael's life," and it was the latter part that irked him more than anything else.
"Yes, he saved Gael's life after she foolishly let a damned bard fool bed her and put a child in..." yet before he could finish, it was Viserys who cut in quickly.
"Daemon!" and in his anger, he had forgotten about Rhaenyra's presence and saw Aemma eye him sharply as she called out to her daughter.
"Rhaenyra, come," she said with a smile as she rose from the chair.
"Help your mother get back to her room," and Daemon did not say anything until the doors were shut behind him and Viserys once more.
"Be mindful of what you speak of in front of a child," Viserys spoke with some frustration and rage, as Daemon scoffed.
"She won't be a child for long. One day she will have to grow up," and his brother sighed in exasperation.
"I know that," and he wanted to say more, but in the end, Viserys chose not to as he leaned back in his chair and tore away the cloth from his collar and put down his knife and fork.
"You will understand when you have children of your own," and his mood soured further at the mention of his marriage, for he was tired of people continuously bringing it up.
"That won't happen if I remain married to that frigid Bronze Bitch," and much like everyone else, Viserys refused to see the reason for his anger and frustration.
"She is your wife, Daemon," and that changed very little.
"Grandmother brokered the match herself, you know how poorly your actions reflect on her," and yet no one saw how her actions reflected upon himself, for she had married him off to a barbarian.
Him. A prince of blood. A warrior. A Dragonrider. Married off to a simple whore of commoner blood, while there was a perfect match available for him in the form of a Princess.
"Then she should have thought better," he insisted, for he knew that uttering anything foul about the Good Queen would hardly make his situation any better.
"She did. Lady Rhea is a beautiful lady, who comes from a storied House and brings with herself the lands of Runestone," yet her hair was brown and her face long and broad, like a man.
"What more could one demand of a wife?" and he could name quite a few things, as he looked into his brother's eyes, barely holding his tongue.
Silver hair. Amethyst eyes. Blood of Valyria. Princess. He could utter them all, for that was what everyone else had, including his brother.
The Queen had wed him to Aemma, Rhaenys to Corlys, and so forth. Yet him. Him, she had wed to Rhea Royce of Runestone.
And now, as a further insult to him, the Princess was working with that damned healer to learn from him, so that she may help the common folk of the city.
"Must you bring this up again?" he nearly shouted, having grown frustrated with all this talk about his marriage.
Viserys did not speak up at first.
"Everyone is worried about you, Daemon," and that was a lie.
No one cared about him.
"Father may have been a bit harsh on you about returning to Runestone, but both him and the Queen think that you should go back to your wife and fulfill your duties as husband," as if his Bronze Bitch would ever accept that, for she refused to see him as the Prince that he was, thinking herself some goddess.
"Someone should also speak to her about fulfilling her duties as my wife," he replied reluctantly, as he scoffed.
"I am her lord and husband, a Prince, and yet she refuses to acknowledge me as that," and Viserys nodded.
"Just try, Daemon. Try once more, if not for father and the Queen, then for this brother of yours," and that made him bite his lip, for what could he say to that.
"I never desired this match," he gritted out in rage, as Viserys nodded.
"But it is now made, and you must live with it. But the King and Queen have made an offer to you so as to motivate you into giving this marriage another try," and what could they offer him?
"What?"
"Darksister," and that made his head snap towards Viserys as he couldn't believe his ears.
"How?" he gasped after a minute of silence, as Viserys shrugged.
"If you promise me to return to your wife in the Vale, then the King shall offer the sword as a prize to you if you win in the upcoming tourney," and it would be a great prize to wield the blade of Visenya Targaryen.
Dark Sister, the blade of Visenya Targaryen. A Targaryen family heirloom that had been passed down since before the Doom itself, and already he could imagine himself cutting through limbs and armor with that Valyrian edge.
And now it could be his.
A Valyrian blade for a Valyrian wife. And Daemon could see the offer, for what it was, and yet it was better than nothing.
"The blade will be offered as a Prize to the winner of the tourney, so you will have to win, of course," and by then, Daemon was up on his feet as he stared at his brother.
"I will try," he answered the earlier question as he looked his brother in the eye.
"For you," and Dark Sister, but he did not say the second part as he turned away and headed for the door.
"Where are you going, brother?" Viserys asked from behind as Daemon answered with a smirk.
"I have a tourney to prepare for..."
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