Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PROLOGUE. The Birth Of Daenaera Velaryon, The First Of Her Name
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Amongst the tranquil quiet of the night, harrowing cries break through every inch of reposeful sleep dawning over the residents of the castle in King's Landing.
Grunts of pain punctured through the silence, further pushing the narrative that childbirth is no easy feat to overcome. And of all times a child could come, hers had to be during the most restful of midnight hours. She supposed it was fitting, however, as she was not one to usually follow respected rules.
Rhaenyra Targaryen was not one to give up, so as she gave one more forceful push with the encouragement from her handmaidens, she utilised the want to be rid of this long labour and embodied the desire to finally hold her baby within the confinements of her arms. "I can see the head, princess!"
Sweat raced down every inch of her warm body, her striking white hair cascading down her back as her damp nightdress clung to her skin. The allure of childbirth others had bestowed upon her fading away with each passing minute. Despite acknowledging months previous that childbirth and marriage were her foremost duty before she took the throne, Rhaenyra still held her childhood wants of being more than just a mother. However, even if she was pushed into it by the realms objectives for women, she would make the most of her situation and be a mother her children would be proud to call a parent.
The knowledge of her first child making its way into the world desiring to meet her had Rhaenyra mustering every ounce of vigour to push one final time, her hands clenching the velvet sides of the armchair she was deposited on, her teeth gritting in the effort not to scream her curses into the world. Finally, the last push of strength had the babe exiting her body and entering the outside world. Despite reeling from the constant pain she was just subjected to, Rhaenyra breathed a sigh of a relief for finally being over with this extensive labour.
"A girl! Well done, my lady." As the handmaiden raised her baby, wiping gently and encasing her within a bundle of robes, the fresh cries of Rhaenyra's daughter pierced through every pair of ears within close proximity.
Rhaenyra couldn't help but let out a jovial laugh, reaching her arms out for her child, the lingering pain momentarily forgotten as she gazed on lovingly. The second the babe was placed within her slightly shaking arms, the screams that echoed around the room quietly died down, as if the newborn recognised her mother instantly. Despite all the blood and general substances that remained on the baby that the handmaidens had no time to wipe away, the white skin colour her daughter inherited would not go amiss by residents who loved to spread rumours no matter the occasion. Even if it should've been a concerning matter to think of, Rhaenyra pushed the thoughts of everyone else but her daughter out of her mind.
Rhaenyra lifted her hand towards her daughter's face, gently stroking the smooth skin as she tried to grasp the reality that the babe that was growing inside her was now securely wrapped in her arms, hers to protect and love for however many years to come. She was so enraptured with her baby that she barely heard the words from a handmaiden slowly departing from her quarters. "We must alert Prince Laenor at once."
"No," her voice shook as she spoke the word, but the finality was evident in her tone. To have others punctuate the already solid bond between her and her baby, to possibly have her taken from her arms - she did not think she could bear it. But she did not forget to uphold her supposed duties as a loving wife. "Sir Laenor can continue with his rest, it would do no harm to deliver the news in the morning. I wish to be alone with my child."
The handmaidens, understanding the dismal, bowed their heads and departed at once. The silence that followed was pleasant, a longing she yearned for to gather her thoughts.
Rhaenrya was no fool, she knew her baby was one fully fledged with Targaryen blood and had not one drop of Velaryon within her. Nine months prior, when the wedding ceremony between her and Laenor had been attentively over, him distraught and her ridden with shock, she excused herself to her bed chambers to be alone. That was until Daemon had returned to her one last time.
Driven by anger and desire, together the two shared a night they knew would more than likely be their last. When she awoke the next morning, he was gone. When the weeks passed, her and Laenor's futile attempts of conceiving was acknowledged as inefficacious, a quick goodbye to something that was never going to last. The matter of Harwin Strong was one that was non concievable in the slightest, the two of them only began their rendezvous after the discovery of her first pregnancy. So when she found out she was with child, the one possible answer to her baby's lineage could not be questioned.
Rhaenyra shook her head, bringing herself back to the present. As she gazed on at her daughter, she decided the name she would inherit would be Daenaera Velaryon, the first of her name. And despite the last name not fitting her true wants, Targaryen blood still ran true within her veins and that could never be refuted. She also decided sending a raven to Daemon and announcing she had given birth to his child was a matter that was dangerous to even ponder about, she would be placing him and herself at risk; her right to rule would be questioned on many accounts. It was safer this way, even if her heart felt pierced through with a thousand glass daggers.
Little did Rhaenyra Targaryen know that the events that would succeed the birth of her daughter would be the start of something much bigger than her. A war brewing underneath the surface is bound to explode at one point or another. For dragons cannot be tamed.
