Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

117 - Spring

 Her father's seal stared up at her from the tray as Rhaenyra took her place at the table. She was not surprised, he had been writing every day for the past fortnight. What Rhaenyra did not understand was what he expected in response, she had already replied to at least half of his letters despite her days remaining monotonous and uninteresting. It was not as if his letters were vastly different, all he seemed interested in was when the babe would arrive, and since the babe was not yet here, she had little to report. 

 Daemon was equally as unenthused by any correspondence from his brother, leaving Rhaenyra to open them while he ate his breakfast. On this morning, he had eggs, sausages, tomatoes, and freshly fried bacon brought to him. They also had a platter of fruits sent to them from Highgarden now that the spring trees were in season, but neither of them touched any of it, Daemon finding it too sweet and Rhaenyra finding the smell sickly enough. 

 "Gerardys will hear from petitioners today," Rhaenyra said, sipping iced milk from a copper cup. Daemon hummed. "I would like if you were to be with him."

"What?" Daemon scoffed. Rhaenyra nodded. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I can no longer attend myself," Rhaenyra huffed. "I would like you to represent me."

"Is the Maester not doing that?" Daemon grumbled. 

"This is important," Rhaenyra insisted. 

"Anyone can sit there and listen to peasants complain," Daemon grunted. "I have better things to do." 

"Listen, Gerardys knows what to do, he will guide you and keep a record on anything, but the judgements need to come from us."

"I have run an island before, Princess," Daemon puffed indignantly. "This fucking island to be precise."

"So, what is the problem? It is only until I have healed from the babe," Rhaenyra said. Daemon groaned. 

"That could be moons!"

"You only need to meet with them once a fortnight," Rhaenyra said. "Last time, Gerardys kept notes and gave it to me, but not all of the townsfolk are literate so I cannot send them missives of my judgement, and summoning them back is not always easy. Please? There are far fewer petitioners here than in King's Landing, it shall only take you an hour or two." Daemon grumbled under his breath, but offered no further complaints. Rhaenyra smiled at him. 

 Daemon turned his attention back to his bacon as Rhaenyra felt the babe kick. Daemon glanced at her as she winced, but she waved a hand dismissively, her other rubbing circles around her stomach. She was bigger than she ever thought was possible. It was not just her stomach that was swollen either, her breasts and feet had also become affected, so much so that it hurt for her to walk down the steps. She now understood why her mother had spent so much time in the bath, it was the only thing that seemed to ease the pain in her back and ankles. She looked more like her mother now, Rhaenyra thought, although there was a sadness in how her mother had spent most of Rhaenyra's life pregnant, more oft than not with children who were never born. 

 It did not affect her father so much, he was soon to turn his attentions elsewhere. 

 "Daemon," Rhaenyra muttered. Daemon turned to look at her as he raised his goblet of ale to his lips. "You know how Gerardys mentioned that I am too far along now for us to... cause too much excitement." Her cheeks flushed as she spoke. 

Daemon chuckled lightly. "Indeed," he replied, nodding. 

"Well, Gerardys - and the midwives - they - they said that that will extend to after the babe is born too, that it will be a while before we can... before we can couple again."

"Indeed," Daemon said again, smirking as her cheeks burned scarlet. 

Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortable, her eyes unable to meet his. "You know that that will be a while, yes?"

"Of course," Daemon replied, his face giving nothing away. 

"You do not intend to... to find other means - other women to entertain yourself, do you?"

"Why would you ask that?" Daemon demanded, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter as his face darkened. Rhaenyra did not say anything. "Why would you ask that?" Daemon pressed again.  "Do you have an accusation to make? If so, say it now, Princess." 

"No, no of course not," Rhaenyra said hurriedly. She had known Daemon to be in her rooms every night since she moved into Visenya's chambers, and before that they had been active enough for her to have had no concerns.

"Of course not?" Daemon scoffed. "Then what are you fucking -"

"It has already been a month," Rhaenyra sighed. "It may be another two or three before I can - before we can entertain one another."

"You are my wife," Daemon said stiffly.

"You have been married before," Rhaenyra shrugged. Daemon laughed, a bitter bark of a noise that Rhaenyra did not like the sound of falling from his lips. 

"That bitch meant nothing to me and you know it," he said coldly. "You must know you mean far more to me than she ever could." 

"It is not uncommon for men to - to - to be unfaithful to their wives," Rhaenyra said uncomfortably. "In the wake of what happened with Alicent, I cannot trust my own father's loyalty to my mother, I only -"

"I am not him, Rhaenyra," Daemon sighed, shaking his head. "I have no interest in finding some Andal bitch to fuck."

"And what of the Valyrian ones?" Rhaenyra inquired. "King's Landing and its Lyseni whores are a short distance from here, as are the dockside pleasurehouses of Driftmark." 

"I have not taken a whore since long before we wed," Daemon said gruffly. "I do not intend to do so now. Can you imagine the scandal if I was caught there?" 

Rhaenyra frowned, "the scandal?"

Daemon hummed, "yes, you are the future Queen of course, imagine what they would say if you could not be presumed to rule your own husband." Daemon shook his head. "And Viserys would likely have my balls for it." 

"So, you do not care about the pain it would cause me?" Rhaenyra puffed. "Just what people would say?" 

"What?" Daemon frowned. Rhaenyra stared at him. "I - this is not something I am considering, or have been considering," Daemon hissed. "Not once, not once since we wed. I would rather lay chastely in your bed like a Septon until you are ready to fuck me again than be abed with some whore." 

"Good," Rhaenyra said, her eyes on her cup. 

"Good?" Daemon repeated incredulously. 

"What else do you want me to say?" Rhaenyra asked. 

"Have you finished with you ridiculous accusations?"

"It was not an accusation," Rhaenyra said. "I just wanted - need to know that you would not - are not growing tired of - of not ..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"I could never grow tired of you," Daemon said gruffly. Rhaenyra forced a smile. "Are you alright?" 

"No," Rhaenyra confessed miserably. Daemon took one of her hands in his, raising it to his lips. She chuckled, although she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. "I feel huge and - and just awful, all the time." She shook her head. "The babe could come any day now and - and while I want him to come, I also - I cannot help but think that something will go wrong."

"It shall not," Daemon said firmly. Rhaenyra sighed. She knew that he knew that they could not be sure of it, why bother spelling it out again? 

 As Daemon poured himself another goblet of ale, Rhaenyra finally reached for the pile of letters on the table. She pushed her father's to the side, first reading the one from Lord Bartimos Celtigar, who wished to set up a meeting with her to discuss the fishing trade. The next was from Lord Rycherd Darklyn, who had invited them to a feast that Rhaenyra definitely could not attend, and another invitation from Lady Redwyne for her upcoming tourney. "Honestly, it is as if they do not know I am pregnant," she grumbled. "How on earth do they expect me to get to Duskendale in this condition, let alone the Arbor?" Daemon laughed. 

 Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip as she tore through her father's seal. She hummed to herself as she read, while Daemon left the table to swap his undershirt for a velvet doublet. "Father says the new nursery in the Red Keep is finished," she read. Daemon hummed his acknowledgement. "He still has not said where it is, so I do hope it is not beside Alicent's children," Rhaenyra muttered. 

"Surely even he is not that stupid?" Daemon scoffed. 

"I would not be so sure," Rhaenyra said. Daemon chuckled. "They have had more pumpkins delivered from the Vale, he is offering to send some to us."

"How nice," Daemon said drily. 

"And - what?" Rhaenyra frowned, watching the letter drop onto the table.

"What?" Daemon repeated, turning around to stare at her with narrowed eyes. 

"Alicent she - she is pregnant," Rhaenyra said. "Again!" 

"What do they need another one for?" Daemon laughed. "The commoners shall not be happy, another royal mouth for their taxes to feed." 

"And fifth in line too," Rhaenyra puffed. "Or will it be sixth? Does Helaena come before Aemond?"

"Does it matter?" Daemon scoffed.

"No, I suppose not," Rhaenyra sighed. Rhaenyra pursed her lips. "She has done it for attention, most likely."

"Who?"

"Alicent," Rhaenyra said. "She probably hates all the attention we are getting because of the babe."

"I do not see why having a fourth child in line to inherit nothing will help there," Daemon smirked. "Our babe will be King." Rhaenyra smiled. 

____________

  Although her rooms were warm and comfortable, Rhaenyra was growing restless being cooped up. Dragons are not chickens, she thought to herself, they need to stretch their wings and soar. So, Rhaenyra decided after nearly a fortnight of life stuck in Visenya's apartments to have Daemon escort her down to Aegon's Garden. 

 They were tailed by Ser Lorent Marbrand, who had come to Dragonstone to serve as Rhaenyra's sworn shield. They had been offered the service of Ser Rickard Thorne as well, but Daemon insisted he did not need a sworn guard when Dark Sister served him.

 "Are you sure you should be out here?" Daemon asked for the umpteenth time since they had left her rooms.

"Ask me that again I am going to push you down the stairs," Rhaenyra puffed, shaking her head. Daemon laughed.

"Do you want to sit down?" 

"Wait until we get to the bench by the cranberry bush," she said. Daemon rolled his eyes, tightening his hold on her arm. 

"I do not know how you can eat cranberries," Daemon scoffed. "Dreadfully bitter things. Rhaenys was the same when we were children, she would eat them until she made herself sick." He shook his head. 

Rhaenyra cocked her head thoughtfully, "I cannot imagine you as a child."

"No?" Daemon chuckled. "Well, I was not much different than I am now, only smaller."

"That, I doubt," Rhaenyra replied. She hummed. "What do you suppose the babe shall look like?" 

"Small." 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "I mean, do you think he shall look more like you or me?"

"Somewhere in between I suppose," Daemon shrugged. 

"That is not very descriptive," Rhaenyra said, sinking onto the bench as they reached it. 

Daemon laughed, "what is it you want to hear?"

"I do not know," Rhaenyra sighed. "Do you think they shall have your eyes or mine?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well... no, but it is fun to think about, is it not?"

"Is it?" Daemon asked. Rhaenyra cocked an eyebrow. Daemon sighed. "My eyes," he said. "But we should hope for his sake that he has your ears, I did not grow into mine until I was eight and ten." Rhaenyra giggled. "The court shall be delighted by him."

"Of course they shall," Rhaenyra said. "He is to be their future King." She smiled, placing her hand on her swollen stomach.

"Have you thought much about returning to King's Landing?" Daemon asked.

"Why would I do that?"

"The babe shall need to be presented at court sometime," Daemon shrugged. 

"I suppose," Rhaenyra muttered. She was not eager to walk willingly into the viper's nest. 

"It would be for the best if we do so before the next Hightower whelp arrives, yes?" 

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. She certainly did not want to be in King's Landing while everyone was fawning over Alicent. How the daughter of a second son with nothing to his name could garner so much attention, Rhaenyra did not understand. "How - do you think the court was bothered by my mother being half-Arryn?" 

"No," Daemon replied. "She was Lord Arryn's daughter, she was not a Targaryen Princess, why would they care?"

"She was a Targaryen Queen," Rhaenyra said. Daemon nodded. 

"They did not care much for Rhaenys and poor Jocelyn," he said. "Few wanted to see Aemon succeed with a Baratheon Queen."

"But they will tolerate a Hightower?" Rhaenyra scoffed.

"Times change, as do people," Daemon said glumly. "Of course, Orys Baratheon was supposedly a bastard, so that did not help much. The Hightowers have been connected to the Faith for generations, people shall not want to make an enemy of them." Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "I do not know what your father expects to gain for having another Princeling with her," Daemon said. "Does he truly want to risk giving the Andals four dragons?" 

"None of the other eggs have hatched," Rhaenyra shrugged.

"That does not mean they cannot claim their mounts."

"What dragon would choose to be ridden by a Hightower?" Rhaenyra laughed. 

"They are still the sons and daughter of a King," Daemon said. "It would make sense for him to want them to have them even if his days in the skies are no more."

"Alicent will not, she is terrified of them."

"Alicent will have to allow it, for legitimacy. Who wants to follow a half-Hightower who has never flown a dragon? At least Viserys was of impeccable lineage and the last rider of Balerion." 

"Then let us hope she does not," Rhaenyra said. "Do you think our babe's egg shall hatch?"

"I do not think there is anyway of knowing," Daemon sighed.

"But if you were to guess, uncle?"

"Sure," Daemon shrugged. 

"Do you think it shall look like its egg?"

"Syrax did," Daemon replied.

"What was Syrax's egg like?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Not as interesting as this one, I must say," Daemon replied. "It was big and yellow, and hotter than the others." 

"Syrax is yellow," Rhaenyra hummed. "Do you think this dragon will be gold? Or silver, like the little markings?"

"Either. Both, mayhaps."

"Both?"

"Meleys is red and pink, Dreamfyre is blue and silver," Daemon shrugged. "Dragons can have more colouring than just the one." Rhaenyra nodded. 

"I hope it hatches soon," she said. "I would love to see the look on Alicent's face when we take the future King to King's Landing with his dragon." Daemon laughed. 

"Anything from Viserys today?"

"Surprisingly not," Rhaenyra replied. "Hopefully he has realised writing about it shall not make the babe come sooner." Daemon laughed again. 

"When do you think the babe shall come?" he asked.

"The maester said any day now," Rhaenyra said. "Although he has been saying that for nearly a fortnight." 

"And does that - does that worry you?" 

"It did, but the midwives said first pregnancies are most likely to be all over the place," Rhaenyra replied. "They often come sooner or later than expected, and more so than later pregnancies." 

"How are you getting on with the midwives?"

"Well enough," Rhaenyra shrugged. "They are here to help me give birth, not be my friends, but they are certainly more comforting than the maesters." Daemon nodded. 

"Well, it should be over with soon, right?"

"Yes, I do hope so." Rhaenyra rubbed her hand over her stomach. The discomfort was growing almost unbearable, and she was desperate enough for it to end that she forgot her fears. Daemon's hand joined hers, pressing over her stomach as if searching for signs of life. "I think he is sleeping now," Rhaenyra told him. "He has been still for some time." Daemon nodded. 

"Does he move a lot?"

"Not as much as he used to."

"Does it hurt?"

"Only when he kicks. He is a strong one, I know that." 

"Well, let us hope he is as good at wielding a sword as he is kicking his mother," Daemon chuckled. Rhaenyra nodded. "If he is anything like his father, he shall be better than the Hightower whelps at any rate," he said proudly. Rhaenyra smiled.

"Of course he shall." 

____________

 Daemon had always been an early riser. As a boy, he had squires drills to run while the knights were training in the courtyard, so if he wanted to use any of the weapons before the blunted he had to be there at practically first light, and he supposed he had never grown out of it, the only exception being mornings when he was too hungover to move, in which case he would spend half the day abed. Generally, Daemon saw spending too much time in bed as a waste of one's life. When he had told Rhaenyra this after they first wed, of course she had not agreed. 

 Daemon did his best not to disturb her when he woke each morning, walking so softly he was practically tip-toeing like a child trying not to get caught misbehaving as he dressed himself and collected Dark Sister before leaving. Rhaenyra did not move an inch, still wrapped in the many sheets and furs she had insisted on having 

 Most mornings, he could walk the entire distance to the training yard without running into a single person. On this morning, however, Daemon had only just reached the staircase when he almost walked into Maester Gerardys, Dragonstone's short maester with thick, dark hair. "My Prince," he greeted, bowing his head.

"Maester," Daemon said, shifting so he could pass him.

"My Prince," the man said again, urgency rising in his voice. Daemon rolled his eyes, stopping in his tracks and turning to glare at the man now a couple of steps above him.

"What?"

"The King -"

"He has sent another raven?" Daemon groaned. 

"No, my Prince, he is here, and -"

"What?" Daemon demanded, narrowing his eyes at the small man. 

"He is in the Throne Room, my Prince, he wishes to meet with you or the Princess,"  Gerardys said hurriedly.

"Me or the - he expects Rhaenyra to receive him in her condition?" Daemon scoffed.

"I did try to explain to him, my Prince," Gerardys muttered. "But he insists." Daemon rolled his eyes.

"Do not bother Rhaenyra with this," he said, raising a hand, "especially not at this hour. I will see to the fool we are forced to call a King, you just ensure she is being kept comfortable."

"Yes, my Prince." 

  The Throne Room of Dragonstone was usually a cold room of stone, but the hearths had been lit with orange flames to add light and warmth. Three rows of stone steps between platforms designed to look like dragon scales led up to the old stone throne. Behind the throne was a large triangular window that looked over the dark, smoky dragonmont, decorated with bars of dark black iron arranged into Valyrian symbols, most meaning 'fire' and 'blood'. Viserys was stood in the doorway, with Ser Harrold to his right. The King was clad in all black, including his leather gloves, with the Conqueror's dagger on his hip, although the buckle of his belt was a heavy gold, and the inside of his cloak was a dark red. He was pointing to the Throne, showing the dragonmont in the distance to Aegon. Viserys' son was dressed in a black tunic with silver detailing, with a red collar and cuffs, covered in a grey cloak. In one hand, he held a wooden dragon, and in the other he had a small wooden sword with a blunted end. 

 "Ah, Daemon," Viserys greeted jovially as he heard his brother march into the room. He turned from Aegon, holding his arms out widely. "You are looking well."

"You are not," Daemon returned. His brother's face had a greenish tinge to it, as if he was going to be or had been sick, and his eyes appeared bloodshot. 

"He is so rude to me, your uncle, is he not?" Viserys said, waving a hand in Daemon's direction, although his eyes were on Aegon. The small boy giggled, waving his sword around. 

"Why are you here, Viserys?" Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow. Viserys' smile faltered. "Rhaenyra is pregnant and -"

"You think I do not know that?" Viserys chuckled. "We know Rhaenyra is going to have a babe, do we not?"

"Babe," Aegon agreed, nodding his head. 

"Why are you here?" Daemon asked again, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"My daughter is going to have a babe, I wanted to be here," Viserys said, frowning. "Why is that a problem for you? I am her father. I want to meet my grandchild." 

"Do you truly not understand why your being here may make this already stressful experience even worse?"

"Oh, this is my fault is it?" Viserys scoffed. "You - " he wagged his finger at Daemon "- are the one who put - who did that with my daughter." 

"Did what?" Aegon asked, frowning. Daemon smirked. 

"Not now, Aegon," Viserys puffed. He wiped his brow with a red cloth. Aegon pouted. "Where is Rhaenyra?"

"She is in bed," Daemon drawled, "in her apartments, at the top of Sea Dragon Tower and she shall not be making herself walk down here for you."

"We shall go to see her then."

"You will let her rest." 

Viserys sighed. "Fine, fine. We shall see her later, then."

"Is it just the two of you?" Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Indeed, just Aegon and I," Viserys replied. "Alicent is expecting too, you know."

"Rhaenyra told me, yes."

"Our Aegon here -" Viserys placed his hand on Aegon's shoulder "- is going to choose an egg to put the cradle of his new little brother or sister."

Aegon nodded, "I will get a dragon egg." 

"Of course, because you have had so much luck with the last three," Daemon said drily. Viserys frowned at him. 

"I hope you intend to be more encouraging with your own children," he said. Daemon shrugged. 

"Rhaenyra will not be up for some time yet, would you like to break your fast, or are you off to the dragonmont?"

"The dragonmont?" Viserys puzzled, his frown deepening. "Why- why would I be going up there?"

"Where else would you find an egg for your next Hightower spawn?" 

"Daemon," Viserys snarled. Daemon raised his eyebrows. Viserys shook his head at him. 

"Why are you cross, Pa?" Aegon questioned. 

"I - I am not cross, Aegon," Viserys said, forcing a smile. "I fear the dragonmont will be a bit too much for him -" Viserys gestured to his son "- would you have the dragonkeepers bring some eggs here - only three or so - and he can choose his favourite?" 

"You have legs, ask them yourself," Daemon said. Viserys frowned. "I have better things to do with my time." 

"Please, Daemon, Aegon and I can hardly go all that way," Viserys said. "And I am sure the bigger dragons may frighten him."

"No," Aegon protested, waving his sword around. "I am not scared." 

"I will have someone bring some eggs out to the courtyard for you," Daemon sighed. Viserys smiled. Aegon clapped, dropping his toys onto the floor with a clatter. 

  After Daemon had sent a pair of squires up to the dragonmont, he finally reached the training yard. Most of his usual sparring partners had finished for the day, so Daemon had to deal with the more sluggish members of the garrison, those who were older or slower to rise in the mornings, while breakfast was sent to the Great Hall for Viserys and his son. 

 Rhaenyra was still asleep when Daemon returned to her bedchamber. Not wanting to disturb her, he had the maids prepare him a bath in his own chambers across the hall. When he returned, clad in a long black tunic and dark red breeches, she had only just begun to stir. "Hello," he greeted her, running his hand over the egg in the cradle. Rhaenyra turned to look at him, her head not rising from her pillow.

"You - you look nice," she said through a yawn. Daemon chuckled. 

"As do you," he returned. Rhaenyra scoffed, shaking her head. "Are you hungry?"

"Not truly."

"I think you should eat."

"If you insist," Rhaenyra said weakly. Daemon nodded and marched out of the room to call for breakfast. Ser Lorent had appeared, taking his place outside his wife's door although Daemon had insisted it was unnecessary while he was there. Ser Lorent nodded to him as he passed, but Daemon ignored him. 

 Breakfast that morning was rather lacklustre, although Daemon could hardly blame the cooks after being surprised with the appearance of the King. Rhaenyra had a bowl of porridge, sweetened with honey and nutmeg although still she was reluctant to eat, while he had duck sausages, quail eggs, fried mushrooms, and blood oranges from Dorne, with a weak red wine from Pentos to wash it down. "How fares you this morning?" Daemon asked of his wife. 

Rhaenyra let out a weak chuckle, "well, I have certainly felt better, but I am to bathe soon so I hope that will ease some of the discomfort. I am growing rather sick of this." She gestured to her swollen stomach. Daemon leaned over to place a hand on it. There was no movement from the child this time, but during the previous evening he had felt him kick twice while they sat in front of the fireplace. 

"It is weird to think that these little meals of ours shall soon be accompanied by the shrieking of a babe," he chuckled.

"No," Rhaenyra said, frowning. "Our child will be better behaved than that."

Daemon laughed. "All babes cry, Rhaenyra, if they do not then there is something wrong."

"Not every morning all through breakfast."

"Well, no, I should hope not," Daemon said. Rhaenyra nodded. "Have you thought much of names?" Rhaenyra cocked her head. "I know you said you wanted to wait for the babe to be here to choose, but you must have some idea."

"I have been reading old tomes of Valyrian history," she replied. Daemon nodded.

"I think Alysanne did the same, or perhaps she just knew the histories by the time her sons were born, she and Jaehaerys spent a lot of the first year of their marriage here." 

"They had a son called Aegon first, did they not?"

"Indeed, but he died in the cradle." 

"Oh dear." Rhaenyra raised her cup of sweetened milk to her mouth. "Did they name him for the Conqueror or their dead brother?"

Daemon shrugged, "you know, I never asked. I would presume both." 

"You have a dead brother called Aegon too," Rhaenyra said pointedly.

"Indeed." Daemon shook his head. It had been close to thirty years since his brother had been found cold and blue in his crib, and Daemon now struggled to recall what the boy had looked like. "That was before the Hightowers tarnished the name of course," he said. Rhaenyra scoffed. Daemon glanced over his shoulder as there was a knock at the door. "Yes?" he called. 

"Forgive me, my Prince, but the dragonkeepers are here," Ser Lorent said, sticking his head around the door. Daemon nodded, waving a hand dismissively at the man. Rhaenyra cocked an eyebrow.

"Dragonkeepers?" she questioned. "What do you want with them?"

"Would you like some news on your brother Aegon?" Daemon asked.

"Half-brother," Rhaenyra said coolly. "And not really."

"No?"

"Go on then."

"He is here."

"What?" Rhaenyra puffed, leaning back in her chair to glower at him. 

"Yes," Daemon sighed. "Your father thought it wise to come here to see you and the babe, and he brought that little brat with him." Rhaenyra groaned, covering her face with her hands. "They want an egg for the one Hightower is carrying, but Viserys did not actually want to take his son to the dragonmont, so he has had some eggs brought here to choose from. He thinks the boy will be scared of Vermithor."

"I do not care what he is scared of, this is my castle and we told him he could not just turn up uninvited and expect hospitality," Rhaenyra groaned. Daemon finished the last of his sausages. 

"I shall see to them, my beloved," he said. 

"Good, and keep that brat away from me!" 

"I will, I will." Daemon rose from his seat, leaning across to press a kiss to her cheek. "Feel free to have one of these eggs, I will not eat them," he said, gesturing to his plate. Rhaenyra shook her head. 

  The Great Hall was a vast stone room carved into the shape of a dragon with never enough flames to make it feel warm. The doors were a dark red, in the shape of the dragon's mouth. The walls were adorned with Targaryen banners and statues stood in the far corners, one of Aegon the Dragon and the other his mount, Balerion, and the furthest wall to the left was decorated in rich tapestries displaying the greatest battles of the Conquest. The wooden table was held upon a great wooden dais, where Viserys and Aegon were seated, Viserys enjoying a bowl of candied plums while Aegon was bashing two wooden knights together. 

 "Ah, Daemon." Viserys smiled warmly as Daemon approached them, marching up the wooden steps, past Ser Harrold. 

"Your eggs have arrived from the hatcheries," he said. Aegon squealed with delight. 

"Good, good," Viserys said, rubbing his hands together. He had removed his gloves to eat and Daemon could see the swelling on his hand, unaffected by the removal of his two fingers. Viserys stared at the doorway. "And - and where is Rhaenyra?" he inquired after a pause. Daemon scoffed.

"As I have said, she is in her apartments, and will not be trekking down those steps in her condition," he said coldly. 

"Right, yes, yes," Viserys muttered. "We can see her later. Come on Aegon, eggs."

"Dragon eggs!" Aegon exclaimed happily, bounding from his seat and down the wooden steps. Viserys followed at a much more sluggish pace, trying to force his gloves into place as he walked. 

"You are both enjoying Dragonstone, then?" Viserys asked, as Daemon reached the last of the steps. "One has to assume that you are, you have not visited the Capital once since you left."

"Yes, we are very happy here," Daemon said stiffly. Viserys nodded, forcing a smile. 

"Good, good."

"Why did you not write ahead?" Daemon asked, frowning. "You know we told you not to turn up without leave."

"I - I have been writing," Viserys grunted. "And Rhaenyra seldom responds. Which is - which is understandable given her condition, but I felt it best to just -"

"You could have written to the maester, then," Daemon said coolly. 

"I could have, yes, but -"

"But you did not. Instead you decided to just turn up at our castle with Alicent Hightower's son when Rhaenyra could go into labour any day," Daemon drawled.

"He is my son, too," Viserys puffed. "Your nephew." Daemon scoffed. 

"Why him?"

"What?"

"Why not bring the others?"

"Oh, Aemond is far too small," Viserys said. "Far too small, and Alicent refused to allow Helaena to come, she is scared of the dragonmont herself." 

"And your wife?"

"I did not imagine Rhaenyra would take to her presence well," Viserys sighed. "Alicent did wish to come, but... it is for the best she did not, I imagine."

"And yet you assumed Rhaenyra would take to your sudden appearance kindly?" Daemon snorted. 

"She is my daughter."

"She is a woman-grown, my wife."

"You do not understand," Viserys hissed. "You do not have children... yet. Rhaenyra, I - I worry for her."

"How kind."

"You know what happened to Aemma, Daemon," Viserys snapped, his voice raised. 

"Yes, yes," Daemon said, his eyes narrowing at the King. "But never fear, luckily for Rhaenyra her husband is not willing to risk her life for something that came to him in a bloody dream." Daemon shook his head. Viserys' face turned very sad as he bowed his head, his eyes on the floor. Daemon pretended not to notice as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. 

"Do - do you think Rhaenyra knows?" he choked.

"Of course," Daemon replied.

"You did not -"

"I did not have to," Daemon shrugged. "I do not know how she knows, but she has for some time." Viserys groaned. "Interestingly, she also knows how quickly your attentions turned to the Lady Hightower."

Viserys scoffed, "six moons is a perfectly respectable amount of time to -"

"Oh, so she did not enter your chambers alone the very night Aemma passed?" Daemon inquired hotly, raising an eyebrow. Viserys sighed. "Tell me, did you think Jaehaerys would be proud of you when you drove that knife into his granddaughter?" Daemon hissed. "Would Baelon? You named the child for him after all." Viserys wiped his eyes again. 

"You do not know of which you speak," he said glumly. "The pressure I was under was -" he shook his head. "I hope for Rhaenyra's sake you give her a son before she ascends." 

"Eggs, Pa!" Aegon shouted. He had rushed out of the room, but now he hurried back in, glaring at his father impatiently. 

"You are right, I do not know," Daemon chuckled. "Because I would never allow the words of a Hightower and Strong to take such precedence in my life."

"No, you would discard it entirely," Viserys puffed.

"I would," Daemon agreed. "And I am sure Rhaenyra will thank me for it." Viserys hung his head again. 

  The dragon eggs had been taken to the courtyard, carried in cases of steel. As they were opened, puffs of smoke hit the crisp morning air and the eggs themselves appeared to hiss. Aegon giggled, clapping his hands excitedly, his toys now in the hands of Ser Harrold. "Which one is most to your liking, Aegon?" Viserys asked him. Aegon hurried forward, peering down at each of the eggs in turn. 

 The first egg was smaller than the others, its scales a pale blue with a white spiral in the centre. The second was larger, its green scales gleaming like jagged pieces of emerald. The third was by far the largest, a pale pink with jet black tiger stripes. The fourth was a dull copper colour no larger than the second. The fifth and last of the eggs was mostly black with strips of pale blue. It was smaller than the third and fourth, but bigger than the second. 

 Aegon took his time selecting the egg, frowning whenever the dragonkeeper used his staff to block the boy's hands from their hot scales. His paid attention to the pink egg for a while, but eventually he decided upon the egg of black and blue. He clapped as the dragonkeeper took it from the case, holding it out to Viserys, who waved a hand at him. Instead, Ser Harrold took the egg, tucking it under his arm as they walked back towards the castle. "Be careful," Aegon told him. "That is the best egg."

"I will, Prince Aegon," Ser Harrold replied. "Do not worry."

"Good." 

"When is the babe due?" Daemon asked, as they turned back towards the Entrance Hall. 

"Oh, not for at least six months," Viserys said. 

"Why not wait for Dreamfyre to bring a clutch then?" 

"Aegon has never been to Dragonstone before," Viserys shrugged.

"Why does he need to?" Daemon asked, frowning. "He is not the Prince of Dragonstone, nor shall he be." 

"No, he is not, but he is still a Targaryen," Viserys said. "This is still the seat of his ancestors." Daemon scoffed. Viserys shook his head. "You are too unkind." 

"I am a Targaryen Prince," Daemon snapped, inhaling sharply through his teeth. "Son of Prince Baelon and Princess Alyssa, grandson of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, I will not be insulted by the spawn of a Hightower masquerading as one of mine own. Your little wife is not even the daughter of a Lord. It is embarrassing." Viserys stared at him. He swallowed, shaking his head, but did not say anything. Daemon walked away. 

  "What is for luncheon?" Viserys asked, once they reached the Entrance Hall. He was no longer even forcing a smile. Daemon turned on him, his brow creased.

"Luncheon?" he repeated.

"Yes," Viserys replied icily. "Are you unfamiliar with it? The meal you have around noon, between breaking your fast and dinner." 

"Can you not eat upon your return to the Keep?" Daemon asked. "You have retrieved your egg now, have you not?" 

"We hardly came all this way just for that," Viserys scoffed. "No, no, we shall stay until the babe is born and Rhaenyra is well again." 

"Until... are you insane? That could be moons," Daemon protested. 

"Why is that a problem?" Viserys asked. 

Daemon felt his eyes would bulge out of his head. "Why is that a problem?" he repeated incredulously. "You cannot just turn up at our castle and expect to be housed here for moons. Take your Hightower brat and piss off back to the Capital, Viserys. Rhaenyra is stressed enough as is." 

"While your concern for my daughter is gallant," Viserys drawled, his voice dripping with loathing, "I am still your King." 

"You are a pain in my arse," Daemon grumbled. "Do you not have a Council to run? Petitions to attend to?"

"Lord Lyonel is more than capable of doing so in my absence."

"Brilliant," Daemon scoffed, shaking his head. "Just brilliant." Viserys glared at him. "So we have a Hightower playing at Queen and a Strong playing at King." 

"Hold your tongue," Viserys snarled. Daemon rolled his eyes. "Aegon is a growing boy, he needs food, so go and have your -"

"I am not your fucking manservant," Daemon hissed.

"Perhaps not, but you are a poor host," Viserys puffed.

"My wife is heavily pregnant and I am trying to run this damn island while she is abed, making you feel welcome is far from my priority. If you want food, go to the fucking hall again, there are usually servants there." 

"And our rooms?"

"You can be housed in Stone Drum."

"Splendid," Viserys replied. Daemon did not say anything more before marching away. "And Daemon?" the King called after him. Daemon cursed under his breath. "Do see how Rhaenyra is doing, will you? I would like to see her." 

  The scent of lavender and rosemary filled the washroom, and a light breeze blew in through the gap under the window. "Until I have recovered?" Rhaenyra repeated, dropping her head into her hands. Daemon nodded, throwing his boots to the floor. "I do not want them here at all, but certainly not for that long."

"King's Landing shall not miss them," Daemon said coldly. Still, Rhaenyra groaned. "He wants to come up and see you."

"Certainly not," Rhaenyra sniffed. "They took an egg, then?"

"Yes," Daemon replied. "Rather unremarkable thing, mostly coal black but with some faint blue lines. Smaller than most and not especially warm." 

"Do you suspect it shall hatch?"

"Only time shall tell." 

"I suppose," Rhaenyra shrugged. 

"Are you hungry, Princess?" Darla asked, as she and Celia returned to the washroom. 

"No," Rhaenyra replied. 

"Is the water not too cold?" Daemon asked, dipping his hand into it. It was still warm, but not as hot as Rhaenyra would have liked it. 

"It will suffice," Rhaenyra sighed. 

"If you say so," Daemon said, shaking the droplets from his hand. 

  Viserys had at least had the decency to wait until after dinner to force his way into Rhaenyra's rooms. Daemon had been hoping that the man would take the hint and leave them be for the day, but that was too much to ask for. "King Viserys Targaryen," Ser Lorent announced, as Daemon poured Dornish strongwine into a goblet. He offered the wine jug to Rhaenyra, but she shook her head. The Princess of Dragonstone pursed her lips as she turned her head, watching as Viserys marched towards them.

"Rhaenyra," Viserys greeted warmly, holding out his arms. "How good it is to see you."

"Father," Rhaenyra replied stiffly. Viserys' smile faltered. "What are you doing here?"

"Did - did Daemon not tell you? I wanted to see you, and the babe." Viserys stroked his chin. 

"And why would you do that?" Rhaenyra asked. Daemon sipped his wine. 

"I have not seen you in moons, my daughter," Viserys replied. "And I wanted to be the first to meet my first grandchild." He smiled warmly at her, but Rhaenyra did not return the gesture. 

"And you could not wait until we presented him in King's Landing?" she sniffed. "Or until he is born at the very least?"

"I had wanted to see how you were doing." 

"Were your incessant letters not enough?" Rhaenyra scoffed. Viserys frowned. 

"I only worry for you," he said. "You know - your mother, she was not -"

"You should not have come," Rhaenyra told him coldly. Viserys' face fell. Daemon thought he looked rather like a child who had been sent to bed without sweets rather than a man who had seen forty name-days. 

"I worried for you," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "I wanted to help, to -"

"Your worries are not my concern," Rhaenyra snapped. "Do you think I do not have enough of my own at present?"

"You - you and Daemon both have never done this before, I have," Viserys said. "I can -"

"Yes, and your interference went so well for my mother, did it not?" Rhaenyra spat. Viserys hung his head. "If I had wanted you here, Father, I would have invited you, but I did not, and I certainly do not need Alicent Hightower's son here. Are you truly such a fool you are unaware of how this looks?"

"Pray tell, how does it look?" Viserys sighed.

"It looks -" Rhaenyra swallowed, shaking her head. "It looks as though you are waiting for me to die," she whispered. Viserys' eyes widened. "So that you may give my seat to Aegon." 

"You truly think I would want that?" Viserys asked, frowning. 

"The truth does not matter, Father, only perception," Rhaenyra said coldly. "Is that not what you declared? My womanhood has always been my weakness, as admitted by yourself, and here you are bringing your firstborn son to Dragonstone whilst I am awaiting childbirth. How else can that be perceived?" 

"Aegon came only to choose an egg," Viserys said, his voice little more than a whisper. "Alicent is with child again, and there were no eggs in the Pit that the dragonkeepers considered likely to hatch."

"It could have waited," Rhaenyra puffed. 

"The babe is not due until the end of the year," Daemon added. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.

"I have upset you," Viserys sighed. 

"Yes, you have," Rhaenyra agreed. 

"Your mother would have wanted to be with you."

"Well, she cannot," Rhaenyra sniffed. "Because she is dead." 

"Well, I am not dead, and I want to be here to meet the future King or Queen." 

"You shall keep your son away from me," Rhaenyra said. Viserys frowned. "I do not need to deal with his tantrums in this condition."

"Fine," Viserys relented. "How are you, anyway? I did not come to argue." Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. Viserys crossed the distance between them, reaching over Daemon's shoulder to take a cherry from the bowl on the table. "Is all well with you and the babe?"

"As I have told you in many letters, all is well as far as the midwives can tell," Rhaenyra replied, taking a cherry herself. 

"This is nice," Viserys said, gesturing to the egg in the cradle. "Has Syrax laid a clutch?"

"No," Daemon replied. "We believe it to be Silverwing's." Viserys nodded.

"Helaena drew something for you." Viserys took a folded up piece of parchment from his pocket and offered it to Rhaenyra. When she unfolded it, Daemon saw what he supposed to be a yellow flower with a long, green stem. "She said yellow would be your favourite, like Syrax," Viserys explained. Rhaenyra hummed. "How is Syrax?"

"She and Caraxes have taken to the island well," Rhaenyra muttered, evidently still annoyed. 

"I imagine she has grown," Viserys said.

"Indeed."

"Are you interested in visiting our grandparents' mounts?" Daemon asked. Viserys laughed. "One may take a liking to you."

"As dinner, perhaps," Viserys chuckled. "No, my riding days are behind me, on a dragon or anything else." 

"You never know, Vermithor has been the mount of a King before, mayhaps he misses it."

"Then perhaps he may take a liking to your son," Viserys replied. "But not I, I am done with such business." He shook his head as he reached for another cherry. Rhaenyra batted his hand away. He frowned. 

"I am eating those," she huffed. Viserys nodded, crossing his arms over his chest like a child in a sulk. Daemon smirked. "How is Stone Drum?"

"As I remembered it," Viserys replied. "Aemon and Jocelyn used to keep their rooms there, as did my father, I recall it well. It is a cold castle, not bursting with life and luxury like the Red Keep, Dragonstone was always meant to be a fortress." 

"A fortified castle is not a bad thing," Rhaenyra said. 

"No," Viserys relented. "But it is still awfully cold."

"Did you bring maids for your son?"

"No," Viserys replied. "But, Ser Harrold is with us, and Ser Steffon, so he shall be safe." Daemon snorted. "What?"

"Your men of the Kingsguard are not trained as wet nurses, Viserys."

"Aegon is too old for that, he is four, Daemon." 

"Who is to care for him while you are here then?" Rhaenyra questioned.

Viserys frowned, "he is my son, I shall."

"You shall -" Rhaenyra shook her head. "If you say so. He was pleased with the eggs, then?"

"Very much so," Viserys replied, nodding. 

"With respect, I would like to bathe now," Rhaenyra told him. "If you would not mind -"

"Yes, yes," Viserys said. "I shall take my leave for the night. I shall hope to see you tomorrow." Rhaenyra did not reply, reaching for a cherry, while Daemon watched the King leave. 

"Bugger for poor Ser Harrold then," he muttered. Rhaenyra laughed. 

____________

  "Breathe, Princess, breathe," urged one of the midwives. 

 Daemon bowed his head. 

 He could hear Rhaenyra straining from where he was standing in the doorway. She was hidden from him by a white curtain that now wrapped around her bed, which only her midwives had been permitted to breach. The midwives had tried to remove him at least half a dozen times already, but he was unrelenting. He could not leave her, not now.

 Her breaths were laboured, and Daemon's heart pounded in time with them, the sound echoing in his ears as if his head was being beaten like a drum. For close to ten hours he had been standing out there, and he had grown tired of drinking and pacing, now leaning against the wall and waiting. 

 He hated waiting. 

 "Daemon," he heard her cry out, her voice hoarse. 

"Rhaenyra?" he called in response, his head peering around the door frame. 

"And push now, Princess," one of the midwives instructed. Rhaenyra wailed. 

"Rhaenyra?" he called again. 

Rhaenyra only groaned, which soon turned into wailing. The sound pierced through Daemon's heart worse than an arrow, making him weak in the knees. He placed one hand on the wall for balance, his eyes searching the curtain for sign of movement, but he could see nothing. 

"And again," instructed the midwife. 

"Come on, Princess," urged Celia Strong. 

"I... I... I cannot," Rhaenyra croaked. 

"Push," urged another of the midwives. Rhaenyra cried out. 

"Water, Princess?" offered Primrose Celtigar.

"Not now," snapped the first midwife. "Push, Princess, push." 

 Daemon shook his head, his hand stroking his jaw as he heard Rhaenyra wail again. He was clad in only a pair of pale gold breeches and an undershirt he had never bothered to tie, his movements hurried when Rhaenyra had first started her labours, although she insisted he could not address the midwives in just his smallclothes. 

 "How is she, my Prince?"

 Daemon turned to see Maester Gerardys marching up towards him, the maester almost as peeved to be barred from the room as Daemon was. Daemon only gestured to the room, where Rhaenyra's crying and heaving breaths could be heard.

 "Everything is moving nicely, then?"

"If you say so," Daemon grunted. His voice did not sound like his own, raspy and hoarse as if he was a man who had crawled through the heat of a desert.

"If my assistance is required, I shall be in my rooms," the maester said. "The Princess knows where they are."

"Right," Daemon muttered, nodding, having no intention of calling for the grey rat. Maester Gerardys gave him a comforting smile before walking away again.

 "Push," the first midwife demanded again.

"Come on, Princess," urged Celia. Rhaenyra roared, her voice lower than it had been before, as if she intended to tear her throat apart. Daemon shivered, a chill running down his spine as he thought of his own mother, and the nightmares he had had of such sounds. 

"The head," one of the midwives gasped, although Daemon could hardly hear her over the thundering of his own heart. Rhaenyra wailed again. Daemon felt like banging his own head into the wall so he did not have to hear it any longer. 

"And again," instructed another. "Push." 

"Ah!" Rhaenyra cried out. 

 In an instant, her shrieks were accompanied by the wailing of a babe, and Daemon felt as though he would faint. He leaned against the doorway, his own chest heaving as he listened as best as he could to what the midwives were saying, although they spoke so softly he could not hear most of it. "Praise the Mother!" one midwife exclaimed. 

"Seven blessings to you both," said another. 

"Water, Princess?" Primrose offered again.

"Not now, girl," a midwife chastised her. "We still have the afterbirth to deal with."

 Daemon shivered as the babe - his babe - continued to cry out.

 "Watch it," chuckled one of the midwives. "This one kicks like a goat." Daemon heard Rhaenyra whisper something, but could not hear the words themselves. "Perfectly healthy," the midwife told her. 

"Very red though," said Primrose. Daemon heard a thump as someone - Rhaenyra, most likely - threw a pillow at her. 

 Soon, the midwives and ladies began to emerge from behind the sheet. Two of the midwives carried the babe, still covered in blood and whimpering slightly, into the washroom, while Primrose hurried past Daemon in search of a pot of tea, and Celia at last pulled back the curtain. 

 Rhaenyra looked better than Daemon had been expecting. 

 Her face was plastered with sweat, which one of the midwives was wiping away with a damp cloth, and she was paler than usual. Her silver-gold hair lay free from any braids, stray strands falling in front of her face, and her chest was still heaving. She wore only a white shift, which was stained with blood. 

 Daemon stumbled into the room as if there was some heavy weight on his back. He opened his mouth to call for her, but no sound came out. He licked his lips, finding his mouth incredibly dry. As he neared the bed, he could hear the sound of water sloshing, presumably the midwives cleansing the blood from his child's skin. 

 His child.

 Even the thought was hard for him to digest. After so many years, he finally had himself an heir. 

 "Rhaenyra," he whispered, turning to look at her. She opened her eyes, staring up at him. He smiled, reaching for her hand, squeezing it tightly. Rhaenyra clutched onto his tightly, her hands stained with blood from having their child in her arms. 

 Daemon practically fell onto his knees before the bed. He wiped her hair from her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead as Primrose returned with a teapot, Darla Strong and Annora Hunter in tow. "How are you, Princess?" Darla asked. Rhaenyra only groaned. 

"You did perfectly," Daemon told her, reverting to their mother tongue. Rhaenyra smiled at him, but did not reply. He squeezed her hand again. "Are you in a dreadful deal of pain?"

"Yes," Rhaenyra gasped out in the Common Tongue. 

"Someone get her milk of the poppy," Daemon demanded. Rhaenyra nodded her agreement. "How fares the babe?" 

"Healthy, my Prince," one of the midwives replied, before Rhaenyra had a chance to. Again, she nodded. 

"Ah, here we are." A second midwife brought out the babe, now swaddled in wrappings of black and red. Rhaenyra sighed, holding out her arms so she could hold the child close to her, resting her head atop of the thin layer of soft hair. 

"Milk of the poppy, Princess," another midwife offered her. Rhaenyra sat up so she could accept the cup, which she drained instantly. Primrose placed a cup of tea for her on the bedside table, stealing a glance at the child's face. They were peaceful now, no longer shrieking. 

"So sweet," Rhaenyra praised, stroking a lock of hair with the side of her finger. 

"You shall need to bathe too, Princess," one of the midwives said. 

"We shall fetch some clean water," offered Annora. Darla nodded her agreement. Neither of the women had been eager to be in the birthing chamber at all, claiming to be squeamish at the smell of blood, which still lingered throughout the room. 

"May I?" Daemon asked. Rhaenyra glanced at the babe's serene face, before nodding, and lowering the child into Daemon's awaiting arms. While the Princess of Dragonstone reached for her tea, Daemon rocked the child gently. 

"Is he not the most perfect thing?" Rhaenyra sighed, cocking her head as she drank in the sight of the two of them.

"He?" Daemon repeated. Rhaenyra nodded.

"Indeed," she said. "In your arms you hold the future King of Westeros." Daemon hummed, smoothing his son's hair. It was a brilliant shade of silver, but already he could see the traces of gold, so alike Rhaenyra's. 

"He is a big thing," he chuckled.

"Small but robust, the - the midwife said," Rhaenyra replied through a yawn. Daemon nodded. Rhaenyra scowled as they heard someone drop something in the washroom. 

"What are you doing?" demanded one of the midwives.

"Only changing the water," Darla retorted defensively. Daemon snorted. 

"Can you tell your friends to piss off?" Daemon asked, glancing at Celia on the other side of the bed.

"Daemon-" Rhaenyra protested. He waved a hand dismissively at her. 

"We shall call for you when the Princess is ready to bathe," Daemon said. Celia nodded, jerking her head in the direction of the washroom so that Primrose would follow her. 

  Returning the babe - his son - to Rhaenyra's arms, Daemon next shooed the midwives out of the bedchamber, all four older women in garments of red and cream. They were still flapping about like geese, trying to get their hands on the babe again, but Daemon shut the door on them. 

 "He looks like you," Daemon said, sinking onto the bed beside his wife as he returned to her. Rhaenyra chuckled.

"You do not think it a bit early to tell?"

"Not at all." 

"If you say so," Rhaenyra sighed. Daemon watched as their son wriggled in her arms, his little feet kicking at the blankets surrounding him. "He has a strong kick to him, they tell me."

"We knew that," Daemon chuckled, thinking of all the times Rhaenyra complained about him hitting against her ribs. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. "He shall be a fine warrior." 

"You shall make sure of it, I know," Rhaenyra said. Daemon smirked. 

"And an even better dragonrider."

"I do hope so." Rhaenyra glanced at the cradle, where the egg still lay. 

"So, have you thought of a name for the future King yet?" Daemon asked. "I am willing to offer suggestions."

"Aemon," Rhaenyra said, tracing his nose with her finger. "Aemon Targaryen."

"Aemon?" Daemon repeated, frowning.

"Yes," Rhaenyra replied stiffly, sensing his displeasure. "For my mother, Aemma." 

"It is a lovely idea, but -"

"But?" Rhaenyra scoffed. "You are going to disagree with the name of my son. The son I just spent hours birthing you?"

"Rhaenyra, you have to listen to me," Daemon sighed. "He is perfect and I will never be able to repay you, truly, but - but we cannot call the future King Aemon, not when -"

"When what?" his wife demanded. 

"Are you unaware that that was the name of Rhaenys' father?" Daemon asked.

"So?"

"So, Aemon was Prince of Dragonstone, and he would have been King had he not died when he did," Daemon replied. "Rhaenys could easily take offence to us naming our son - the future Prince of Dragonstone - for her father without her leave."

"He is not named for her father," Rhaenyra sniffed. "He is named for my mother." 

"Aemon only died when I was a boy, Rhaenyra, people will assume he was named for him, the Velaryons amongst them." 

"What do I care what the Velaryons makes of my son's name?" Rhaenyra demanded. 

"You know the precarious position we hold with the House Velaryon at present," Daemon replied. "We cannot risk doing something so to insult them and turn them to Alicent's side, they already have the Lannisters. Perhaps we shall have other children you can name for Aemma -" Daemon noticed her frown - "or perhaps not, but -"

"You have made your point," Rhaenyra snapped. 

"I would still like to call him Baelon, for my father," Daemon muttered.

"No," Rhaenyra said, shaking her head. "It was not so long ago my mother birthed a babe named Baelon, father may be hurt by the suggestion, especially given - well, you know." Daemon nodded glumly. 

"What of Gaemon then?" he suggested. "That is similar to Aemon, is it not?"

"Awfully similar to Daemon too," Rhaenyra retorted. "You do not want people questioning your ego too much, uncle." Daemon laughed. Rhaenyra cocked her head as she stared down at their child, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Aerys," she whispered.

"Pardon?"

"Aerys Targaryen," Rhaenyra declared. 

"Is that not too similar to Viserys?" Daemon asked, scrunching his nose in disgust. Rhaenyra shook her head. "What of Aenar, for -"

"No." 

"Or Valerion?" Daemon suggested. Rhaenyra laughed.

"Like Balerion?"

"I - I suppose," Daemon shrugged. Rhaenyra laughed again. "My grandmother had a son called Valerion, he did not -"

"Oh, what?" Rhaenyra asked. "I am sorry, I assumed you had made that one up. It is rather ridiculous."

"No," Daemon snorted. "Aenar is also somewhat like Aemma, you know?"

"Somewhat," Rhaenyra sighed, raising an eyebrow. "As is Aerys." 

"What of Aerion?" Daemon suggested. "He was the father of the Conqueror." 

"No," Rhaenyra replied. "You can object to Aemon, but you cannot object to them all. His name shall be Aerys." 

"Why?" Daemon puzzled.

"It suits him," Rhaenyra shrugged. Daemon tilted his head to better look at the babe's face. His eyes were open now, staring up at his mother. They were a dark shade of violet, somewhere between Rhaenyra's true purple and the pale lilac of Daemon's own irises. 

"Aerys," Daemon repeated. Rhaenyra nodded. "It sounds like you just combined the names of your parents, and -"

"There was an Aerys Targaryen on Dragonstone, in the days of -"

"Yes, yes, I know," Daemon puffed. "He was the son of the first Aegon, before the Conqueror." Rhaenyra nodded.

"Would you like to hold Prince Aerys?" she asked. Daemon clucked his tongue, but agreed, holding his arms out again. Immediately, the boy kicked his chest, trying to break free of his wrappings. Daemon hissed at him as one would while trying to soothe a horse. Rhaenyra laughed. "Maybe you should put him in his cradle?" she suggested.

"If you insist," Daemon said. He tickled under the boy's chin as he carried him towards the end of the bed. He placed him gently beside the egg, which the babe stared at with wide eyes. 

"Call my ladies back for my bath, please," Rhaenyra sighed.

"Do you not wish to rest first?"

"I feel disgusting, Daemon, look at me."

"Well, I did not want to say anything, but -"

"Oh, fuck you," Rhaenyra laughed, throwing a pillow at him. Daemon chuckled. 

  Daemon returned to his own chambers, the Conqueror's own, to bathe and change. He could see Caraxes and Syrax sunbathing from his window, Syrax resting her head on the base of Caraxes' neck, while the dark figure of Vhagar flew in the distance. Daemon pondered if they would be getting news of Laena Velaryon's wedding any time soon. 

 When he returned to Rhaenyra, he found that Viserys had already beaten him there. The King was dressed in a long robe of purple velvet over a shirt that was mostly black, but with gold around the cuffs and golden buttons down the middle. He had a bowl of candied orange slices in one of his gloved hands, the other resting on the table behind him. "Ah, Daemon," he greeted, smiling. Four days into his visit, neither Daemon or Rhaenyra had warmed to his or his son's presence, and so Daemon only nodded to him. 

"Hello," Rhaenyra said, smiling. She had returned to her bed, but she was now dressed in a nightgown of pale pink, wrapped in a silvery robe, and her hair had been tied in a loose braid.

"How are you?" Daemon asked. 

"As well as I could hope for," Rhaenyra replied.

"You look better than your mother ever did," Viserys told her. Rhaenyra scowled at him. Viserys turned to look at the fireplace behind him. "Are you not too warm?"

"No." 

"Oh, well... good. You should be comfortable." Viserys glanced at the doorway. "Will my grandson be here soon?"

"I do not know," Rhaenyra sighed. Daemon frowned, his eyes suddenly drawn to the empty cradle. "He has been taken to the wet nurse," Rhaenyra explained, noticing his confusion. "He has never seen her before, so I do not know how long he shall take." 

"Are you quite sure Aegon cannot come up and meet him?" Viserys asked.

"Where is your boy?" Daemon pondered.

"Ser Steffon took him to see the stables," Viserys replied. He turned his attention back to Rhaenyra, staring at her expectantly. 

"I am sure," Rhaenyra said. "I am not well enough for his tantrums."

"He has been very well behaved since coming to Dragonstone," Viserys insisted. Daemon scoffed. Viserys glared at him.

"He threw mashed turnips at poor Ser Robert yesterday," Daemon said. Ser Robert Quince was one of the oldest members of their household, serving them since Alysanne had lived there, and one of the fattest. He was not one of the most gifted knights, or the smartest of men, but he was as loyal as they came. 

"Poor man," Rhaenyra said. 

"That was just a - just a jest," Viserys said. "He was bored. It was not a tantrum."

"Right," Rhaenyra said, not convinced. "Well, please keep your son from assaulting any more of my guards with vegetables." Viserys chuckled, but nodded when she did not laugh along. 

  They did not have to wait long before one of the maids returned with Aerys in her arms. "Aha," Viserys declared, jumping to his feet from the armchair he had taken ahead of the fire. "There he is." Rhaenyra forced a smile, accepting her son into her arms. The maid bowed her head before taking her leave. 

"Bring the Princess more tea," Daemon demanded before she reached the door.

"Yes, my Prince," the maid replied. Daemon nodded to her. 

"Hello there," Rhaenyra whispered to the babe as he opened his eyes, staring up at her. One of his little hands latched onto her finger, gripping it tightly. 

"Let me get a look at him," Viserys said, crossing the room to the bed. Rhaenyra did not look enthused by the notion of giving up her son, but she relented, allowing Viserys to pick him up. Aerys also appeared reluctant, holding onto his mother's finger for as long as he could before being pulled away. 

"Be careful with him," Rhaenyra said.

"Of course," Viserys replied, patting Aerys' hand with two fingers. "Look at you, boy. Are you not the most wonderful thing?" Aerys stared up at him with wide eyes, opening his mouth to show off his gums. Viserys chuckled. "He looks so much like you, my girl," he said.

"That is what I said," Daemon muttered. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at him. 

"I have never seen such a wonderful boy," Viserys praised. Rhaenyra beamed. Daemon knew that that was because her father was praising her son above Alicent's, and Daemon could not blame his brother; their boy was not tainted by Hightowers. Viserys' glee was slightly deflated when Aerys closed his eyes, obviously intent on going to sleep.

"Would you put him in his cradle, Father?" Rhaenyra asked. Viserys nodded glumly, murmuring softly to the babe as he lowered him into the cradle.

"Ah, look at that, my boy," Viserys said, tapping the egg. "Perhaps it shall hatch for you one day?" Aerys made no signs of acknowledging him. Viserys was not bothered, staring at him as the boy fell asleep. "You already have a wet nurse, then?"

"Yes, she has been here for about a sennight," Rhaenyra replied, resting her hands on her still swollen stomach. "Ser Alfred found her, a local woman from the village." Ser Alfred Broome was another aged member of the household, now more interested in running the castle than training with lance or sword. 

"You were much bigger than Aerys when you were born," Viserys said thoughtfully. "So was our Aegon. And Helaena."

"The midwives said he is perfectly healthy," Rhaenyra said stiffly. "A fine weight for a fine Prince."

"Of course, I would not worry about it," Viserys replied. "Our Aemond was small too. Now, would anyone care for some supper?" Rhaenyra glanced pleadingly at Daemon, and so he agreed to lead his brother down to the Great Hall in search of food as she mouthed her appreciation when Viserys was not looking.

____________

  When Daemon first woke, he did not know what had disturbed his slumber.

 He turned to Rhaenyra, who was also still bleary-eyed as if she had just woken herself. "What - what was that?" she asked, frowning. Daemon shrugged. 

 As he closed his eyes again, he heard a noise.

 It was like the sharp cry of a bird, but louder than that, and much, much closer than any bird had the right to be. He shot up, sitting up straight with a hand reaching for Dark Sister's pommel as he looked around the room. 

 Rhaenyra frowned beside him, clutching the covers to her chest as she watched him stare out at the balcony. There were no birds.

 Daemon swallowed as they heard the cry again. This time, accompanied by small puffs of smoke. 

 Curiously, Daemon rose from the bed, leaving Dark Sister upon the chair as he shuffled towards the cradle. He peered inside.

 "Rytsas konīr zaldrītsos," he whispered. He glanced at his son, but the boy was fast asleep, undisturbed by the creature at his feet. 

 Daemon removed the broken fragments of egg shell first, throwing them into the fireplace behind him. Then, he opened the palm of his hand, allowing the small hatchling to crawl onto it.

 "You should really put some clothes on," Rhaenyra told him, "now that Aerys is sharing our chambers with us, you cannot be in such a state of undress."

"I am sure he does not care," Daemon shrugged, sitting on the bed beside her. Rhaenyra leaned forward. "Here -" Daemon offered her. Rhaenyra held out her hands, accepting the small beast from him.

  The hatchling's eyes were the same bright gold that its egg had been, as was its crest. It was yet to sprout any horns, but Daemon was sure that they too would be golden. The rest of the dragon's scales were a pearlescent white, while its tongue was a very pale grey. 

 Rhaenyra beamed. "Our son has a dragon," she said, cocking her head as she stroked the dragon's crest with two fingers. 

"Do you think he shall beat your record?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"The youngest dragonrider in known history," Daemon replied. Rhaenyra smirked. "Do you think he shall take to the skies before seven?" 

"Who knows?" Rhaenyra sighed. "I cannot wait to show Father his dragon."

"I wonder why that is," Daemon said, clucking his tongue. Rhaenyra laughed. As she did, the dragon cried out again, letting out puffs of smoke through its nostrils. 

"I think it wants something," Rhaenyra mused.

"If dragons are anything like us, it is likely hungry," Daemon replied. "Aerys certainly was after being born." Rhaenyra nodded her agreement. So, Daemon hurried around in search of clothes, before walking out of the chamber in search of some meat, with his son's dragon perched atop his shoulder.