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Naming Days

Daella

Daeron had long given up the hope for a girl child, ever since the last child Mariah had been delivered of had turned out to be another boy. How ironic – in this, he and his father had been of the same mind, only that for Daeron, it's been some sad resignation while Aegon had gloated in the future strife he envisioned between his grandsons – he had certainly done his best to facilitate it! In addition, he had spread the rumour that the Seven had closed Mariah's womb, making her barren – this about the woman who had given Daeron four living children in a row!

Daeron had never blamed Mariah, neither with his voice nor his heart but his longing had grown, turned into expectation and then into weary resignation. Four boys in a family that only needed two and then, five more…

But she had arrived, finally. Small and docile, violet eyes blinking slowly on a fair skin, under impossibly long locks of dark hair. "May I?" Daeron asked with something like fear, as if he had not held a babe in his life. Baelor had been his first experience – and he had almost dropped him. But he could say, not without pride, that each and every of his children and grandchildren had been perfectly safe in his arms from then on.

One of the smiles that Daeron had seen increasingly rarely lit Maekar's face. "You're welcome," he said but at the last moment, Daeron hesitated, his hands already touching his dream, warm and sweet-smelling of soap and babe.

"I may drop her," he said. "She's so tiny."

This time, Maekar almost laughed outright. "Here," he said, placing the babe in his father's arms; with a swift jolt of joy, Daeron saw the certainty that Maekar held the little one with. His arm had clearly healed completely, else he would not have dared.

"I can't believe it," Daeron said softly. "A little girl. I had already given up on hope."

"So have I." For a moment, Maekar's eyes turned black and his face returned to the habitual distance that stopped emotions from showing; Daeron instinctively knew that his son's hopes had not been the same as his own. And then, the shadows disappeared and the faint but distinct coldness that had started blowing more fiercely between the two of them over the last two years dispersed once more. "She's lovely, isn't she?"

"The prettiest little girl I've ever seen," Daeron said honestly. "How is Dyanna?"

The little one whimpered and then wailed, as if she recognized her mother's name; the wetnurse quickly rose from her corner and took the babe. Maekar nodded and she hurried away. Without asking, Daeron knew that for the first few weeks, until the mother's breasts dried up, the newborn would be whisked away immediately, so her crying would not slow the process down. Who knew what was Dyanna's milk now? Lifesaving nourishment or poison? No one cared to ascertain the wrong way.

Maekar glanced at the door of the adjacent chamber to make sure that there was no sound from the other side. He even went to have a look. Daeron heard a brief conversation and Maekar assuring Dyanna that of course the babe was fine. Then, he returned and Daeron asked if he could enter.

As things turned out, the wetnurse and the babe returned in time to enter with him. Dyanna eagerly held her arms out and held her daughter. The sight of the two of them together made Daeron smile. Dyanna still looked exhausted, her hair matted by earlier sweat but her eyes were shining with love and pride. She knew what the arrival of this granddaughter meant to him. To all of them. And she smiled when she saw the casket of sapphires that he left for the babe. "We could use this necklace instead of a belt for her," she jested and this was so but Daeron suddenly realized that the babe who was inspecting them with unusual focus, did not look like a newborn or act like one. She was bigger than most as well. The due date had been changed twice but now he wondered if the first had not been the right one. All this hair… This babe must have been way too late. His gratitude for Dyanna increased as her unusual exhaustion was explained. Greatly relieved, he thought that Maekar's fears were misplaced and still, some irrational, fierce anger seized him because misplaced or not, his son was suffering. He had suffered for the last four years out of the nine that he had been wed to Dyanna. Of course, his anger was not aimed at his goodaughter… or at least not… entirely… It shamed him to his very core and much more.

"What name are you going to give her?" he asked, taking a seat with the little one in his arms. "Maekar told me you were the one to choose it this time."

It was only right. She had been through hell and back to get this babe and it showed so clearly. The newborn's facial lines were more clearly defined than Daeron would have expected – and they were a tiny copy of her mother's face. It was only right.

Dyanna nodded. "Daella," she said and Daeron paused. He had expected to hear a Dornish choice. Mariah, Nymeria, or even Dyanna's own mother – why not? In their world, daughters could not matter as much as sons and although Dyanna would have been the one to choose the name either way, he had not expected of her to be so respectful of her babe's Targaryen lineage, as fiercely proud as she was with her own.

"It's very… unexpected to me," he said at last.

Dyanna's eyes narrowed on him. "Why should it be?" she asked. "Her father is still a Targaryen, is he not?"

Her voice said more than the words themselves and the guilt and shame that had settled in his heart the first time he had wondered about Maekar and what he might do one day rose to the surface. "He is," he said as calmly as he could. "You both are, as well as the children."

Dyanna nodded, a bitter smile playing across her mouth. "Of course. Spares to the heirs are always needed but they'd better remain unseen, am I right?"

"You aren't," Daeron replied sharply. "Summerhall is a token of my esteem, for the blood he gave to strengthen my rule."

"And also a token of your distrust, Your Grace," she retorted and to this, he could say nothing at all. "Forgive me if I'm overstepping but the situation isn't easy for us either. I know rumours and cliques will always look for a cause that would give their greed legitimacy and when they lost in in Daemon, someone had to take the vacated spot but Maekar has never had such leanings. He won't say a thing but I know it weighs on him. You and Baelor constantly wonder if he's truly one of you; I would have liked it if he were just mine but I know it isn't possible. For good or bad, he has lived and bled and will keep doing this as a true Targaryen. He's still the same as when he was born and his daughter is still his. Surely you won't deny her a name?"

"Never," he sighed, a sudden apprehension unfurling within him so strong that it left him unable to even get annoyed with her cruel and wounding words. What would happen if her current weakness expanded or, the Seven forbid, her disease returned? What would Maekar do without the only one who had accepted him just as he was?

Dyanna's eyes were still narrow slits. For a moment, Daeron imagined that she could read his mind but then realized that it was not his face that she was looking at. It was his arms that made her feel uneasy. The arms of the Targaryen king holding the Targaryen baby who would only be fully significant as royal through her name. The name of the princess whose blood still ran in every descendant of the dragon kings of today. At this moment, Dyanna looked as if her only desire was to snatch her child away.