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Naming Days

Aemon

Daeron had held many just-had-been-borns in his arms and he remembered the different feelings each of them had evoked: the sheer horror at seeing the huge-headed, hairy-even-in-the-ears Baelor and, But he's so ugly! Where are we going to hide him?; the faint surprise at his first look at Aerys with the translucent skin, so fair that the small blue veins of his face were clearly visible and, Is he going to walk around with everyone seeing straight through him?; the delight when Rhaegel stared straight at him as much as a just-had-been-born could stare and his face twisted into something that Daeron knew was a grimace but he liked to think it was a smile; the fear divided almost equally for Mariah and Maekar but still, distinctly leaning on Mariah's side as both had been close to death during her last time in the birthing bed and, A boy. What are we going to do with a boy? He remembered the feelings that had filled him at the births of each of his grandsons. But the wonder of a new life and the relief that mother and child had both made it was something that was not subject to change. Until now. Only when his goodaughter and grandson were declared healthy did he realize how great his fear had been this time and he held the little boy with the feeling of triumph and rejoice that knew no limits. Dyanna had done it again, given them a healthy boy, affirming and confirming their dynasty and the benevolent hand that the Seven held over them. The dark cloud that had settled over them when Jena had bled her last babe just a few moons ago had dispersed, cast away by the strong constitution and the iron will of a slip of a girl that everyone had written off for dead just a few years ago.

"Have you thought of a name?" he asked but Maekar did not answer immediately; instead, he used the fact that a servant-maid was entering Dyanna's bedchamber to try and steal a look inside, at least until his mother came from the other side to push him out with her bare hands. "Dyanna doesn't want you to see her before we've cleaned her up," she said and closed the door in his face.

He only thinks about Dyanna and not the babe at all, Daeron thought with faint condemnation before remembering that each time, he had been so preoccupied with Mariah that their children had not felt real to him in the first few weeks… or months.

"So? What about his name?" he asked again and wondered why. It did not matter what Maekar and Dyanna had thought… but it seemed that they had not given it a thought.

"I didn't want to tempt the Seven," Maekar said; for a moment, Daeron saw the depth of his son's past fear – for Dyanna, not the babe. "This time, it won't take days, you know."

Indeed it won't, Daeron thought. But both the joy of this new arrival and the whispers about the ideas it might give Maekar would take much longer to subside – many weeks for the first, years for the second; with something akin to horror, he realized that even he was not immune to them. He already loved this new grandson, he was happy by this proof that Dyanna's health had been restored so successfully… but he still wished that this babe had been born to Jena at Dragonstone and not Dyanna at King's Landing.

Was this the reason Baelor had decided it was so important to inspect the riverlands and the losses that they had suffered just a few weeks ago? Because he had wished to be away for the first joy and cheer? Yes, most likely. Of course, Baelor would never admit it and Daeron would never ask. He could not say that he understood because he did not know what waiting for children that were lost again and again felt like. He only knew that he wanted this new boy to have arrived in the right cradle and that he already loved him.

"I wish I could have named one of you after my lord grandfather," he said, stroking the soft cheek.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because I felt it was like inviting bad luck. He wasn't a very happy man and his ending was… suspicious."

"You mean Aegon killed him," Maekar said bluntly. "Sometimes, I've wondered if you believed this. Personally, I don't doubt it. He was capable of this, and worse."

Daeron shivered and squeezed the babe more tightly. It whimpered and he loosened his grasp. "By the Seven, Maekar, how can you speak of such things so close to the chamber in which your own son was born less than an hour ago?"

Maekar shrugged. "I don't see why not," he said. "Even he can't harm us from where he is now."

Can't he? Daeron wondered. His father had been dead for more than half Maekar's life but he had left his hope and legacy – Daemon… Daemon who had almost cost Maekar the use of his arm – Daeron suspected that it would take a while before Maekar felt sure enough to hold his new son. The reach of Aegon's malice had reached far beyond the grave.

Daemon who had been prepared and used against Daeron. Daemon, with his great talents and the cultivated inability to contain his pride. He had even named his first sons with two of the greatest Targaryen names – Daeron had to admit that there was a certain melodiousness in the songs of Aegon and Aemon, the brave lads bravely perished… Unfortunately, these songs cast Brynden as the villain.

"I had no doubts about Baelor's name, though," he said, refusing to think about Daemon anymore. "I admired King Baelor's achievements and peaceful inclinations, although not his excesses. He was a great visioner."

Maekar sighed. "I've heard it all before," he said and suddenly, there was a mischievous, ever so rare flame dancing in his eyes, although his expression did not change. "I've always got the feeling that you would have named us all after him if it had been possible. Baelor, Baelor, Baelor, and Baelor… did I miss a Baelor?"

Daeron laughed, wishing for this moment to stretch. It was so rare for Maekar to show a less serious side – Daeron had not heard him quip for over a year after Dyanna's terrible disease had been discovered and in the aftermath of Redgrass Field, no one had been in any mood to make japes. They still weren't but the dead were buried. The harvest was delivered safely in the barns. Children were born.

"Aemon," he suddenly said. "We're going to name him Aemon, Maekar."

Maekar looked at him, surprised, but then nodded and Daeron wondered if his son thought he was naming the child after his beloved uncle, Aemon the Dragonknight. He was but there was also something else, something that he did not wish to say aloud, not when the sand demon Mariah and, supposedly, Dyanna lurked here to torture the woman who had just given birth and his babe.

You can have your Aemon from the songs, Daemon, he thought bitterly, his onetime affection for the traitor having subsided in the pyre that Daemon had turned the realm in without thinking of anything else but himself. I will have this one in the cradle. You have a dead one and I, a living. And from this moment on, I will make it clear that in this realm, only one Targaryen branch is allowed to thrive and prosper – my own.