RunAway Gentle Dragon|| Naerys Targaryen

III

Months later

Naerys screams drove into him like knives. He shuddered, burying his face into his aunt's lap as his tears stained her dress.

What had he done?

What has he done to his sweet Naerys? He had done this, he had given her this child, this child that she risked all to birth.

His aunt Queen Daenaera strokes his head consolingly. She was kind, vowing to sit by his side while Naerys was in labor, and she consoles him as he weeps.

"What have I done?" He chokes, clenching his hands into a fist. "What have I done to my sweet Naerys?"

"Shh."

Naerys screams ceases and Aemon is gone. Running to birthing chamber with wide eyes, and his heart thundering in his chest.

He bursts through the door and freezes when he sees the babe. Silver-gold and pale as it suckles on it's mother's breast. "It is a boy," the Maester said with a smile, turning to see Aemon.

"Your son."

Aemon bends over his wife and child, peering at the tiny being nestled in Naerys' arms. He kisses her forehead, patting back a strand that has remained stuck to her temple. He is in awe. This woman and him, they have created a life together. "He is perfect," Aemon whispers over the child's head to Naerys. The mother beams back at him warmly. Aemon wonders if she knows how much he loves her, more than he thought possible.

They name him Daeron. It was fitting in some strange way neither could explain. Nevertheless they would always love him. They would raise him to be good and noble.

To be a true Targaryen prince.

{A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, Got a little writers block}