𝚆𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 | 𝙰𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚢𝚎𝚗

𝚘𝚗𝚎

THE LOUD SCREAMS of a woman echoed throughout the rooms of a random brothel down in Flea Bottom. The usually bustling business empty for once, closed for a special occasion only the whores of the brothel held the knowledge of. There was a pause, whispers of encouragement from the whores to one of their own, before it continued again. Seconds, minutes, hours passed as it seemed the screams would never stop.

Then it was silent. There was the sound of rustling, the whores running around the room like their life depended on it. All was quiet until the soft cries of a newborn babe filled the air. The sighs of relief could be felt by each of the women in the room as they handed the newborn to its mother, who lay upon the bed covered in sweat and blood. 

Talisa Storm held her daughter close to her chest, smiling when she felt the babe's faint heartbeat against her own. She reached her hand up, ignoring the amount of effort it exerted from her body as she stroked her newborn's head. Already black strands of hair sprouted from the child's head, matching the dark waves of its mother.

"Beautiful," her voice was but barely a whisper as the whores looked at each other with concerned glances.

"She's beautiful," Meera was the first to speak up as she took a seat next to her best friend and new mother. 

Talisa hummed in response, opening her mouth to respond. It never came as her hand rolled away from the baby and to her side completely limp.

"Talisa?" Meera panicked as she watched Talisa's eyes roll to the back of her head and became unresponsive. She reached forward, gripping her arm and repeatedly shaking it. She barely noticed when one of the other women grabbed the baby from her arms, too concerned at the way her friend lay limp by her side. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes as the reality crashed down that Talisa might never open her eyes again.

"She's gone, Meera," a soft hand grasped Meera's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze as she released a choked sob.

Sounds of crying interrupted her grief stricken state as she slowly lifted her head up to look at the baby wrapped in the stained blanket. Meera rose to her feet, stumbling only slightly as she made her way across the room to the baby.

"Let me see," Meera whispered, the woman holding the babe hesitating for a moment before handing them over to her.

The baby stopped crying as they looked up at the redheaded woman with wide, curious eyes. Meera smiled through her misty eyes as she cooed at the baby, lifting her finger in the baby's view to play with. The baby made a weird sound, something Meera interpretated as a babe's laugh as she found her finger engulfed by five tiny fingers.

Meera took in the child's face, noticing features shared by both their mother and father. Dark hair that matched their mother's while showcasing eyes that rivaled their father's. The purple specks weaved in the color of the baby's eyes provided proof of who the father truly was. Curiosity getting the best of her, Meera withdrew her finger for a moment, using it to slightly lift the blanket from the baby to check it's gender.

"Did Talisa have a name picked out?" one of the women asked, her eyes peaked with interest at the newborn.

"Valaena," Meera's soft voice carried across the room to all the other women as she continued to stare at the newborn girl in her arms. "She spoke of naming the child Valaena."

Three knocks at the door gave the women pause as Meera finally tore her eyes away from Valaena's bright eyes. 

"Hold her," Meera ordered as she handed the baby over to one of the women before gathering up her skirts and heading for the front door. Whispers followed behind her back as she stopped in front of the door, preparing to give an earful to who was the illiterate idiot who interrupted both a grievous and joyous day.

Much to her surprise, she swung the door open to find herself faced with a familiar, rebellious prince.

"Hello," Dameon Targaryen stood, arrogant and handsome as ever as he stood before the brothel with his hair tucked behind the hood of his cloak.

"The sign says we're closed," Meera pointed to the sign hanging in front of his face, bold letters stating they weren't open for business for the day.

"Yes, I thought that was weird," Dameon nodded his head as he eyes the sign once again. "The thing is, you're never closed."

"We're closed today," Meera reiterated, catching the prince off guard as he gave her an offended look. 

"I came to see Talisa," Daemon persisted on, not noticing as the breath caught in Meera's throat.

"Talisa doesn't work here anymore," Meera recovered quickly as she stood her ground to the Targaryen prince. "And we're closed."

Without another word, Meera closed the door in his face as she grabbed the chair and locked it from inside. Releasing a sigh, Meera turned around to find the other women huddling around her in angst, awaiting what would happen next.

"What are we going to do with her?" one of the younger girls spoke up, asking the question on all of their minds.

"We're going to do our jobs as we've always done," Meera explained. "Keep the customers happy and away from our personal business."

"And the child?" another asked.

"Is my concern. And I want not a word to anyone, do you understand?" Meera's usually soft voice held a sternness rarely seen by any of the women and it set them on edge. "Or I'll have you all kicked to the streets."

The women nodded, agreeing to keep the babe's existence a secret to the outside world. Meera took a deep breath before stepping up to the woman holding Valaena, taking the babe from their arms and into her own. From there, the women disappeared, leaving Meera alone with the baby.

The baby let out a loud cry, piercing Meera's ears as she resisted the urge to wince. Raising a child would hard, that much she knew, but she would do her best to raise Valaena the right way. The way Talisa Storm would've raised her.

There was no need to involve the father. The baby was, after all, a bastard child. And what would a prince want with a bastard?