Daenys Velaryon entered the world in silence.
Just shy of eight months after Rhaenyra Targaryen wed Sir Laenor Velaryon, she gave birth to her first child, a girl.
The babe was small, and frail, and frighteningly blue. She didn't cry, not even a peep.
Everyone in the birthing room was still, they too unearthly silent, waiting. Praying.
Even the storm raging outside the window seemed to still.
The midwife rubbed her small body vigorously until she lost the palid tinge, and a small cough, then louder wail finally left her lungs. The silence broken, lightning cracked loudly, and booming thunder shook the stone walls.
Rhaenyra sobbed in relief.
Her little girl was alive! She had done it, won the battle and come out the other side with both her own life and a beautiful child, an heir, to show for it.
She reached for the tiny baby eagerly, gingerly, afraid that maybe it was all a dream.
"I think we will call you Daenys." She whispered.
Now that the child's crying had calmed it felt wrong to speak too loudly.
Daenys's eyes fluttered open blearily staring up at her mother's face, revealing startling pale sapphire eyes.