Prologue - My sweet love.

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Princess Laenora of both House Targaryen and Velaryon was born on the 7th moon following her mother's wedding to her father, Laenor Velaryon. Despite being born earlier than anticipated she was an overly large babe, the largest her mother would ever deliver. Rhaenyra had lay upon her birthing bed for two whole nights, writhing in agony, only for her daughter to be delivered the following morn, quiet as a mouse.

Laenor was the first to hold the young girl, and when his eyes set upon her he knew he would never love anything just as much. He never questioned her parentage, he knew that no matter where she came from that she had been placed upon that earth to be his child, and her father he would be.

"Is he alive? I don't hear him cry." Rhaenyra's bottom lip had quivered, fearing the worst for child.

"She." Laenor whispered, kneeling beside his wife's birthing bed, the sheets were stained a deep red as the bed maids peeled them away from her. "She's alive my princess. She's just a peaceful one, I'm sure of it."

"She... A daughter." The delight of the realms heart filled with joy at the sound of it. A daughter. Another heir to the iron throne not destined to be a boy. She would be just like her mother, Rhaenyra knew it too well.

"Let me hold her."

Laenor hesitated momentarily not wanting to part ways with his child, but eventually he lay the girl upon her mother's breast, watching her with nothing but adoration.

"She will make a great dragon rider one day. Well done."

"That she will." Rhaenyra held her breath, taking in her child's black wavy hair and tanned skin. She looked no part of a Velaryon, no one in the realm would ever believe it to be true, but the Targaryen princess knew in that moment that she'd fight to the bone to will her subjects to believe it so.

"Tell me, do you believe her to be your own Laenor?"

"How could I not? Look at her, she is mine."

Nyra breathed out a final sigh, one of relief and lay a kiss upon her daughter's head. It did not matter what anyone else thought of it, Laenor was her child's father, there would be no changing that fact. If the Velaryon consort believed, as would the rest of the seven kingdoms.

"What shall we call her? Tis her name day after all." Laenor pondered, "What about Aemma? After your mother."

"I cannot give her the name of a dead queen, even if she may be my late mother. No. My daughter will bring in a new age to the seven kingdoms, one where many queens shall rule."

"I understand dear wife."

"Laenora." She spoke, her eyes settled on her daughters ones of brown, "The first of her name. After her father. When the people look upon our child I want them to see her for what she is. A Velaryon."

"Then she shall carry my name twice over."

"Laenora Velaryon... my sweet love."

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