Naming Days
The boy spent the first two days of his life without a name. The reason was simple – Maekar simply could not think of a proper one. The ones that occurred to him simply did not feel right.
"You can't delay forever," his mother said as she sat in Dyanna's solar with the newborn in her arms. "You'll have to decide one of these days."
Maekar glanced at her and then returned his eyes to the darkening sky behind the window. "One of these days? You mean, today."
"Well, yes," Mariah said, rocking the babe slowly. "I suppose it can wait until the presentation but…"
"But there is no use," he finished for her. "If I can't think of one now, I won't be able to think of one for the presentation either… and we can't keep calling him Babe forever."
"I know," she admitted.
Still staring outside, Maekar opened the window to let in the rain that had just started falling brought on the black wings of a storm, the rain that his mother had taught him to love. "Never wish for the rain to go away, Maekar," she had often told him. "It shows that the Seven love us."
This time, though, she said nothing of the kind. Instead, she glared. "Close this window," she ordered. "There is a babe here."
Guiltily, Maekar did so as his mother busied herself with wrapping the babe better. "Your father isn't thinking straight," she told him and laughed when he stirred. "Yes, this father," she added. "He's going to get you a chill. He can't even think of a name for you… Don't you at least know which names you don't want?" she asked.
"Aegon," he said immediately. "And…"
She looked at the colour rising to his face and sighed. "I can guess the other one," she said. "I am from Dorne as well, don't forget. I wed the man bearing it as the wounds of Dorne was still fresh…"
"Ah this name. This name. If I could only erase this name not just from my memory but the memory of everyone who's going to keep living. If I could only burn it out of our heads – then, I will not have lived in vain. Daeron."
How often had she heard these words? In the Old Palace. In the strongholds that the Martells visited. In the desert. Who had said them? Had anyone actually voiced them, or had she heard them straight from the hearts of her people?
It had taken her two years and eleven days to learn to say the name with love.
Usually, she did not know and did not wish to know anything about Maekar and Dyanna's relationship. It was no place of hers. Still, she recognized that even in the little she knew, she instinctively took Maekar's side before her reason could kick in. But not this time. If there had been an argument, she was with Dyanna, wholeheartedly. It was Dyanna's newborn and logic had nothing to do with the fact that a mother should feel comfortable with saying her son's name. And for a Dornishwoman, it would not happen with this name, even if it was Daeron the Good, Maekar's father, that would be honoured.
"Go to sleep, Babe," she crooned, wondering for how long they would have to keep calling him this.
It was Dyanna who put an end to the period and Dyanna who chose the name. She announced it as she lay in her bed, the potted bushes that hid half of the window colouring the sunlight streaming in and casting bright yellow patches on her skin.
"Are you sure?" Maekar asked uncertainly. "Think hard, Dyanna! Once we proclaim it, there's no going back."
She rolled her eyes, already recovered enough to convey mock fatigue with him with her entire lively face. "Sure? Of course I'm sure. This is your father's name and I find it suitable."
Her smile was brilliant but her eyes were shiny with tears of the greatest relief there was. She was still pale and sallow after the birth, with the faint unpleasant odour that would only disappear fully when she expelled the last afterbirth blood, curdles and all. But to Mariah, she had never looked more glorious – or more victorious. We won, she thought as she cuddled her grandson for as long as she could before handing him to his mother .Dyanna who grew up in the shadow of the bloodshed put the vainglorious dragon behind, consigning him to the past – what a blow to his pride! In ten years, the name Daeron will be mostly related to my Daeron – and this one, also mine. Here. And even in Dorne. The Young Dragon failed to crush us. Here I am, the Dornish queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Here you are, claiming him so insignificant that you even don't care to not name your child after him. And Maekar is here, taking his Dornish wife into account, instead of just… taking, the Young Dragon's way. His vaunted achievements vanished in the air. He could not even keep our hatred and elevate it above love. What a failure.
Maekar's eyes were moving from her to Dyanna and then back, stopping over the babe from time to time as well. He seemed to know what his lady was not saying. Mariah did not know what he would have done if she hadn't been here but she was. He leaned over the bed. Took Dyanna's hand. Raised it to his mouth. They were so engrossed in each other that Mariah felt safe in wiping the tear from her own eye. In her arms, little Daeron Targaryen slept soundly and innocently.