Chapter 43: Heir for a Day?

When she was young, Rhaena had heard her aunt Rhaenys talk of summer snows in Winterfell. The idea horrified her then, but in the sweltering heat of a King's Landing summer such relief seemed quite welcome. Her belly bulged as her son grew inside her, and while Rhaena adored her pregnancy it took a toll on her, especially in the heat.

She wouldn't allow a servant present to fan her, so instead her dress was of a flowing Dornish cut and a pitcher of fruit juice rested in front of her in the Small Council chamber. Luckily there was a breeze, and Rhaena could at least grow somewhat physically comfortable.

All comfort was needed at the moment - in her life, Rhaena had never seen her kepa so furious other than when Maegor married her. Concerned he might blow himself into a coronary, she watched as he clenched the raven from Egg in Oldtown, near seething. "That… brat of mine… how dare he?!"

"Husband, calm down…" Queen Alyssa clutched his arm, only to be shook off. It was rare to see King Aenys being the one needing to be calmed - normally he was the one trying to placate others. "Lord Hand, have you received any raven from my son?"

Septon Murmison looked to be ill, caught in a pincer between his King and the Starry Sept that he jointly served. "No, your Grace," he croaked. "Prince Jaehaerys has not written to the Dragonpalace. Only that of His High Holiness and that of Prince Aegon." As obvious, Rhaena heard a letter speaking of her valonqar's boorishness and vitriol against Septon Barth from the High Septon. Egg's rendition was more fair, showing Barth as rude himself, but Jae came off the worst of the two.

Jae… what did you do? Given the frostiness between the Starry Sept and the Crown, picking a fight with a high-ranking Septon was the height of folly.

"He should be punished," insisted Grand Maester Gawen. "He is young and foolish - only a firm hand will allow the Prince to learn."

"Agreed, but he is but a young boy. Foolish as you said." Brandon Snow, thin and severe, leaned forward in his chair. "Beyond time that he has been fostered out. Send him to Winterfell and my nephew will see him matured as I did Prince Maegor."

"That is something to fear," spoke Lucas Harroway. "Many say he is close to both his sister Princess Alysanne and her friend Arya Reed. If he learns to be as his uncle…"

"Do you have something against my husband, Lord Lucas?" Rhaena's voice was harsh.

"Enough!" Aenys slammed his fist against the table, shocking all. "I will deal with my son myself. For now, he is to be returned home at once! And by the seven hells, Prince Aegon and Princess Alys will continue their royal progress to the Westerlands and then the Riverlands, but Jaehaerys will not accompany them. Are we agreed?" A chorus of nods from across the table, some Lords seeming in agreement while others were only content with the prospect of harsher punishment when Jae returned. Yet glancing at her muna, Rhae saw reflected a disappointment and disagreement. One she herself mirrored.

Hearing his side and Egg's side, I don't think he did anything wrong.

One of them though, was willing to speak up. "My son." Queen Visenya, though only Queen Mother at that point, still held the sheer gravitas to speak plainly to the King. "If you would be so kind as to allow only family to be present, I have advice to give."

Drinking from a goblet of wine, Aenys nodded. Face flushed but starting to calm from his anger. "Alright. All leave but those of the royal house." Scraping of chairs were followed by bows, councilors murmuring "Your Grace" as they left. Murmison was the last to leave, himself concerned but obeying the King. "Now, mother, what is this advice?"

Rhaena found herself - alongside her muna - a mere spectator as her grandmother stared down her kepa. "You bend over backwards to please those that deserve not your concern."

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"What is this Septon Barth, a mere clerk, compared to your son? A Prince of the Blood and one bonded to a dragon. A dragonrider once Vermithor grows sufficiently."

Aenys fell back into his seat, a gilded throne but not near as imposing as the Iron Throne. "Mother… they are the Starry Sept, not some minor Lord that can be bribed?"

Visenya, growing gaunt with age but still fiery in her gaze - perhaps a vision of what Rhaenys was likely to be at that age - rose. Hands planted on the table as she stared down her son. "Who rules these Seven Kingdoms, Aenys? Be it you, the one with the crown, or the High Septon with a mere book of lies."

Neither Rhaena nor her muna seemed to exist, both witness to the furious argument between the two - perhaps if Maegor or Rhaenys were there they could serve as mediators, but Rhaenys was in Winterfell and Maegor was banished from court and council. The repercussions obvious now. "How dare you, mother," said Aenys, flabbergasted at the attack. "I am the King, and the Faith are important subjects of mine, key to the peace."

"They will spit on peace if you show weakness." Her expression was as fierce as it had undoubtedly been at the Field of Fire. "Go to Oldtown tonight on Quicksilver and stand by your son. Force the High Septon and Barth to apologize and beg his forgiveness… or if you're not up to it should I go in your stead? Or perhaps your brother, seeing we both have the stones to do what is necessary with fire and blood."

The rage in Aenys boiled over. "Out!" he demanded. "If we were not at peace I'd have you exiled to Dragonstone! Begone!"

Huffing, Visenya stood. "Your muna would be ashamed of you, Aenys." Before he could reply, she turned and stormed out.

"Rhaena." She herself turned to see Alyssa, concern on her face. "Please, allow me to speak to your father. Don't stress the babe by bearing witness to more." Nodding, Rhaena eased herself from her seat and walked - practically waddled - to the doors leading out of the Small Council chamber.

Outside waited the enigmatic but beautiful face of her closest friend. "Rhaena." Tyanna approached her with the same yet different concern in her expression. "Are you alright?" A hand rested on her stomach, clearly worried.

"Aye, I'm fine." Rhaena smiled at Tyanna. The touch was… likely too intimate for their current relationship, but in her discomfort at the situation she took the closeness. It felt wonderful, different from her husband's powerful palm but no less welcome. "My valonqar when he arrives from Oldtown, not so much."

"Jaehaerys truly stepped in it, didn't he?" The two young ladies - one a Princess - walked through the halls of the main complex of the Dragonpalace. Idly enjoying the many frescoes and bas-reliefs of Targaryen greatness, walking slowly due to Rhaena's condition. Tyanna, bless her, was more than happy to slow her stride. "I always knew that boy was too arrogant for his own good."

Rhaena rolled her eyes. "He's a young dragon. Leave him be, and this Barth likely deserved it." She met the man at the time of her marriage to Maegor. Part of the delegation that demanded it be annulled - while the others in the delegation were the ones that spoke the most, he drew her attention as the most dangerous one of the bunch. "My grandmother was right, he shouldn't be punished while the Starry Sept should."

Tyanna pursed her lips. "So that's why her Grace screamed at your father."

"Kepa wouldn't listen, and I fear it'll only harm us going forward."

"Aye." There was a silence. "I never could prove it, but those arms shipments that were being routed to the Vulture King from the Poor Fellow armories… those scum are too wedded to obedience to do that on their own. The order had to come from a Warrior's Son… or higher up."

"The Starry Sept planning actual rebellion?" Even for them among growing hostility… Rhaena had her doubts they'd be so bold.

"I wouldn't go that far yet." Tyanna seemed cagey, which was not a mood she expressed often. Rhaena knew her as well as she knew Maegor, and that spoke volumes. "But trying to appease them is folly."

She sighed. "I love kepa, but sometimes he can be weak… ooh…"

Tyanna looked to her. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, nothing." Rhaena set her hands on her stomach. "I felt the babe squirming around." She laughed, rubbing the swell. "Ease up, hatchling. Be a sweet boy for muna."

Her friend and former lover smiled. "You are lucky, Rhaena. Forgive me if I am envious."

"There's a man for you yet, I know it."

"Perhaps… perhaps." They continued their stroll, conversation shifting to more joyous matters.

"Oh, seven hells." Falling onto the bench in the servant's quarters, Floris propped her foot up and massaged the soles. "What laundry duty is for the hands, market day is for the feet."

Across from her, Jeyne spooned the hearty beef stew soaking atop the hard bread trencher - hopefully it would soften thanks to the juices of the stew. "Can you not massage your bare feet while I eat?" she asked her friend.

"Come now, you're not a priss in the midst of a fancy keep."

"Believe me, my father and his liege lord were far more disgusting." No matter how cultured men were, most were pigs. Some exceptions, though - some in this very keep. "But enough of that, what have you heard?"

The both of them had settled well among the servants within the Dragonpalace. Jeyne was more of a loner but found some she was friendly with, albeit far closer to the household of Princess Alysanne than anyone else. It seemed… almost surreal. The Princess was dragonspawn, evil and inbred demons here to destroy the Andal way of life, but Alysanne herself was the sweetest little girl.

So much swirled in her mind, and it took all her power to stay true to her duties for the Starry Sept. And so far it worked perfectly, messages to Barth going out regularly.

Floris shrugged, setting her foot down and gulping from a mug of ale. "Not much." Gossip was the lifeblood of all the servants. "Myself and Ser Bernarr were… catching up but there wasn't much talking involved." Floris giggled, eyes sparkling. A former squire for Lord Alyn Stokeworth, Ser Bernarr Brune served under the Master-at-Arms of the Dragonpalace. He and Floris had hit it off, becoming passionate lovers.

Sometimes Jeyne pitied her.

Sometimes Jeyne envied her.

"Please now, I mean have you heard anything about the… mood of the populace?" Her voice lowered, trying not to be overheard. The servants were… very loyal.

Floris shrugged. "This is King's Landing. Everyone here has some connections to Targaryen loyalists. But… things are tense. Poor Fellows everywhere."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, most of the houses close to the Sept of Remembrance are being purchased by the Faithful, and the further away from the city you get the more pious you get."

Jeyne nodded. "Praise the Seven," she spoke, barely audible, finishing up her stew and ready to work on the now soggy bread.

With a flagon of wine in hand, Jeyne headed down the halls of the holdfast towards the royal apartments. Tasked with delivering the refreshment to the young Prince before reporting to Queen Alyssa for her duties that day. It… wasn't her favored assignment. The Prince, he was handsome and had a wandering eye for her - while Barth would approve, she wanted not to lose her maidenhead to a Targaryen.

Thought for sure she shouldn't, much as she dreamed of him. Vile dreams that sent her to the sept daily…

Turning the corner, she almost tripped all over another servant. "Oh, I'm sorry…"

"Get away from me," hissed the other woman, a mousy girl that she thought served with Princess Ceryse's household once… now tasked to Princess Rhaena. In her grasp was a pot of steaming tea.

"Bitch," Jeyne muttered, walking towards Prince Viserys' chambers. The door was ajar, Jeyne hesitant before she ducked her head in. "Forgive me, but I've brought your Arbor gold, my Prince."

Looking up from his table, Prince Viserys looked quite worn, as if deep in thought and such thoughts being horrible ones. "Ah, Jeyne…" he perked up. "Come, sit with me, please. I could use a shoulder to cry on."

Biting her lip, Jeyne wanted to run away, but forced herself. "Of course, my Prince." She walked towards the table and poured him a goblet of the Arbor gold. She gingerly sat. "Wouldn't you rather speak to her Grace, Princess Rhaena? Or one of the other ladies of court?"

A snort. "No. My sister is busy with the babe and the other ladies are too silly." His eyes found her. "You're far more reasonable a person, and I can't stand hearing all these courtly whispers. Gods, my brother…"

Prince Jaehaerys, most likely. Fool for insulting Barth. He wasn't a man to cross. "I cannot speak for his Grace, but I have learned from experience that it is best to be polite in these circumstances."

"Especially when you're dealing with an important figure in the Faith." Sighing deeply, Viserys tapped on the table. She thus poured him another goblet of wine, which he ended up downing in one swig. "It's not just my younger brother… all are trying to downplay this, but it wasn't just the effort by those at Jonquil's Pool to assault my family. Outside Brightwater Keep, Prince Aegon and Alys were attacked by smallfolk with clods of dirt."

"Truly?" Brave defenders of the Faith. "Rotten scum." Both could be true at the same time.

"Egg tried to slaughter them all, but he was outnumbered. Simply hurried them to the keep and stayed till Lord Florent dispersed the crowd." Viserys looked up, eyes sunken. "I am fearful, Jeyne. Very fearful of the future."

If the future was as dire as Viserys spoke of, Jeyne saw the Targaryen's detriment as a true glory upon the world. Something she dreamed of and fought to ensure. But seeing the pain in the Prince's eyes… Something inside her was sympathetic. There was no outward hate or anger in him, no sadistic cruelty that some of those very men that visited the brothel in Oldtown held. She… wanted to comfort him. "My Prince… I believe all will be well." Jeyne placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

What followed completely shocked her. Out of nowhere Viserys pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her passionately. Desperately. Jeyne gasped and it allowed Viserys to plunder her mouth. His tongue tasted of sweetwine, and… it caused her to moan in spite of herself.

Somehow it brought Viserys back to reality and he pulled back. "Jeyne… forgive me, I meant not to…"

Jeyne would hate herself for it later. Resume the kiss she did. Fully straddle him she did - and it was not because of Barth's orders that she did so.

Still steaming, the servant set the teapot on a table within the Princess' solar. Grabbing a pewter cup and filling it with the scalding brew. "Here you are, your Grace," she said subserviently, curtseying upon handing her the cup. "The Grand Maester says it will settle your aches and calm the babe."

Practically dead on her feet, the unfortunate limbs swollen to no end, Rhaena couldn't do anything but nod and smile. "Thank you, my dear. Please inform the Grand Maester that I am very grateful for his assistance in my well-being."

The servant bowed. "I shall, your Grace. Will you be needing anything else?"

"No." The voice of Tyanna came from behind the servant, her arms crossed and piercing eyes raking her over. Making the girl tremble slightly. "That will be enough." She bowed again and hurried out.

Sipping the brew, Rhaena felt the warmth coursing through her system. It was soothing and immediately her son seemed to cease his furious movements that put great strain on her bladder. Finally. To her side, she dropped her hand to stroke Syndor's fur, the direwolf's tail thumping on the wooden floor in enjoyment. "Must you be rude to the servants?"

"My mother was a servant in her youth before growing breasts and finding wealthy men preferred to fork over coin to devour them, so I wouldn't normally." I could pay the sun and the moon and still wouldn't afford your beautiful breasts. That, she would not say. Too awkward. "But, that girl is an exception."

"For seven hells, why?"

Tyanna sat in a chair directly across from Rhaena, leaning forward. "Because she's from Ceryse's household. I don't trust them, or her."

Rhaena sighed. "Ceryse is my aunt and she loves me, and I her."

A snort. "The moment she wishes to bury her tongue in your cunt, then I'll consider trusting her." Tyanna grabbed Rhaena's feet and propped them in her lap. "Until then, her servants were always loyal and that some remain in the Dragonpalace worry me." She couldn't help but be paranoid.

"If they were loyal to Maegor when Ceryse was his wife then I see no… oooh." Rhaena closed her eyes and pursed her lips. "What are you… oh, that feels nice." Tyanna's fingers dug into the palms of her feet, massaging the swollen pads with deft skill. "I… I knew you had marvelous fingers…"

A small grin found its way to Tyanna's face. "I did tell you about something my mother taught me. How to properly bring a man limp in the right place while also hard in others?" She danced along the curved arch of Rhaena's left foot. "Works just as well on the fairer sex."

"Mmmm…" After so long on her feet with her duties as the Crown Princess in all but name - though many in court rather sought Egg for that title, given their animosity towards Maegor - Tyanna's ministrations were practically orgasmic. "I was blessed… two lovers with amazing hands."

Looking up, Tyanna felt a little ice pierce her heart. "Maegor… he does this?"

"Only to my back, when I need some strong hands to wring out the knots… only you can do my feet… though both… ahhhh… of you knew how to lavish my cunt with attention." She looked up, only to wink.

Tyanna giggled, then bit her lip. "I… I could still… if you want to that is?" She immediately looked away, blushing. "I'm sorry. I don't know… I'm sorry."

Time seeming to freeze, Rhaena set her feet back on the ground. "Ty… you know I married Maegor."

A sigh. "I do."

"I am pregnant."

Another sigh. "I know."

"Then why did you ask that?"

Taking a risk, Tyanna met her Princess' gaze. The same violet eyes she locked onto when she shattered so violently in ecstasy. "Because I still love you, Rhae. I always did."

Rubbing her face with her hands, Rhaena leaned forward. Taking Tyanna's hands in hers. "I cannot say I never stopped loving you, Ty. We shared many moments together and they brought me so much pleasure, but I am married now. We can never be together anymore…" I shouldn't have said anything, stupid stupid stupid! "Without my husband's consent that is."

Eyes widened. "What?"

A small smile. "I mean, perhaps he would be fine with it, if you would consider allowing him to take your maidenhead."

Her cheeks grew bright red again. "I've never laid with a man. Nor do I want to, Rhae." At Rhaena's searching look she had to elaborate. "It's not to say that I haven't had… some scattered thoughts of how handsome he is, but I only wish to lay with girls and the idea of loving a man such as your husband is not something I've considered."

"Why not?" asked Rhaena?

"Aye, why not?"

Both ladies almost leapt out of their skins at the entrance of the Princess Alysanne, her slight frame essentially having hovered into Rhaena's solar. Feet making not a sound upon the stone floor. "Aly, get out!" Rhaena insisted.

She had that tiny smirk only mischievous little sisters had, Silverwing perched on her shoulder - the sweet she-dragon just small enough to be able to. She squeaked and flew over to Syndor, curling to sleep on her back. The direwolf only yawned. "Arya told me you two were sweet on each other like our grandmothers reportedly were. I should've listened to her."

"Oh, gods," murmured Tyanna.

"How do you even know about this?" Rhaena was mortified.

"I'm ten and two, not a little babe, Rhae," the Princess shot back. "And Lady Tyanna, if you still love Rhaena, why not?" Aly's eyes blinked, gaze completely innocent and guileless. "Grandfather and grandmothers married, as did uncle and Aunt Ceryse while Rhae married him."

While Tyanna looked utterly dumbfounded at this sudden turn of events, Rhaena shook her head with a smile. "Sweetling, a woman cannot marry a woman, it is… quite unheard of and ridiculous."

Aly bit her lip. "Umm… then you could marry uncle Maegor." Again, her expression was sincere. "I've seen how he looks at you."

Tyanna's eyes widened. "Truly?"

"Aye, you're very pretty."

Rhaena pressed her fingers on her lips, stifling a giggle. "Forgive me for saying this Aly, but I feel your uncle won't be able to deal with anymore scandal… Ah…" Gasping, she suddenly clutched her belly. Syndor's head shot up, as did Silvering, screeching and flying to the rafters. "Oh gods… I… I think the babe is coming."

Alysanne gasped while Tyanna burst up from her seat. All thoughts of embarrassment or humiliation were gone, replaced with a firm resolve. "Ser Dick!" At her scream, the sworn sword to her Grace scrambled in, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Fetch the Grand Maester!" she demanded. "And get the royal midwife! The Prince is demanding entry into the world."

"No… It's fine… it's too early so this is probably a mummer's labor… Ahhhhhh!" Another cry of pain, this time causing liquid to trickle down her dress and legs. "Fuck… my water broke." Glancing up, she saw that Tyanna and Ser Dick were staring at her in horror, while Alysanne gasped silently, close to tears. "What?" Looking at her legs, a scream immediately tore from her throat at the sight of blood trickling down to the floor below. "Nooo!"

Immediately, Tyanna grabbed at Ser Dick and practically shoved him out of the chambers. "Get the midwife and Grand Maester now! FUCKING NOW!"

Heart pounding, skirt of the expensive dress near tearing itself upon the ground - not that she cared - Queen Alyssa Velaryon turned the corner to find Ser Dick waiting guard in front of her daughter's bedchamber. "Ser Dick! Where is my daughter?!"

"Inside, your Grace." A scream echoed from beyond the door. "She's gone into labor with the Prince."

Alyssa had been through five births, four of them uneventful and one difficult - this one reminded her of the latter, only worse, causing her blood to run cold. "Let me in, damn you!" Ser Dick stepped aside and opened the door, giving Alyssa access to a chamber in madness. "Rhaena!"

"Muna!" Rhaena cried in between screams, flat on the bed with the royal midwife and Grand Maester Gawen attending to her. Lady Tyanna stood to the side, her own face contorted in fear. "It hurts… muna, it's too early. The babe…"

"Shhh…" Alyssa kissed her head, only to turn and face the Grand Maester. "What has happened?"

"Her Grace has gone into premature labor, my Queen," replied the Grand Maester. "I can assure you that she will recover, but the babe… I cannot be certain."

"Gods, no…" cried Rhaena, while Alyssa squeezed her hand.

"Your Grace." It was Tyanna. "Come." Alyssa kissed Rhaena's forehead only to follow, eager to lambast the Pentoshi for dragging her away… "The babe will die… I think there's foulness at work."

"Are you sure?"

A nod. "Only the mystic arts can protect the babe."

"Then… can you do them?" An added fear appeared in Alyssa at the words.

Eyes closed for but a moment, suddenly they flew open - Tyanna's gaze now bright almost enough to glow. "Yout Grace, I'm in need of your blood."

She blinked, startled. "My blood?"

"Do you want your grandchild to die?" came the reply, Tyanna firm. "Unless that is the case, I will be in need of your blood." Out of the folds of her dress - itself a rather low-cut Essosi style upon which Alyssa couldn't fathom where the knife had been so hidden. "Present your hand or she dies!"

Forced in an instant to choose between her revulsion to whatever dark magic this woman promised and love for her daughter, the latter won out. "Alright."

A nod. "Do not be distracted, whatever happens do not." Her gaze softening, Tyanna then hurried to Rhaena's side, leaning down. "Everything will be alright, Rhae, I promise."

"Just save my babe, Ty," moaned Rhaena, herself in tears and flushed a sweaty red.

She kissed her upon the brow - affectionately and not in the platonic sense, Alyssa could tell. "I promise." The Queen wished to ask if the witch believed her own promise, but as Tyanna grabbed her by the hand and hauled her to the brazier, she didn't have to.

Drawing to the brazier, Tyanna murmured words in a Valyrian dialect unintelligible to Alyssa. Made ever fainter by Rhaena's screams of pain in the background. Soon the fire seemed to grow as the coals glowed unnaturally bright, something that was matched by Tyanna's eyes that reflected a powerful gold. Not a natural color, but beautiful and hypnotizing all the same. Who are you…? What abomination did Visenya find in Pentos all those years before, Alyssa never having asked but regretting it in that moment.

"Here." Tyanna extended Alyssa's hand over the flames - just low enough so that the flickers popped and stung ever slightly. Knife in hand, she cut with the blade a long line down her palm. It was shallow but Alyssa still winced in pain. Blood welled from the wound and dripped into the fire, more Valyrian words drawing out a profoundly red glow. A further chanting found Tyanna plunge her hands into the flames…

Unburnt as would a Targaryen, but emerging with the same glow as the fires. "What… will you do?" murmured Alyssa.

Tyanna's eyes were almost monstrous - a fine line between divine and demonic. "Go to her, give her love and comfort." The Queen didn't bow for anyone but the King, but she couldn't find herself to disobey. Five births, five living children, and yet she was afraid. Rushing to Rhaena's side.

"Muna," murmured her daughter.

"Hush, I am here.

"I'm scared." Hearing the pleading voice of a scared child, Alyssa hugged the sweaty, flushed forehead to her chest, kissing the crown of silver locks upon Rhaena's head.

As for Tyanna. "Move," she demanded of Grand Maester Gawen and the royal midwife.

The midwife obeyed, but the Grand Maester didn't even look upon the witch. "Go away. The lower lips are almost fully dilated…"

"Move!" Tyanna thundered, kicking the aging Gawen off of his stool.

"Treason!" blurted out the Grand Maester. "Ser Dick, arrest her for treason against her Grace! The babe might suffer."

"Still your hand, Ser Dick." Tyanna took the stool and sat, hands immediately darting onto the splayed thighs of her love. "I must not be disturbed!"

"You miserable witch…" Gawen advanced to strike her only for Ser Dick to stand in his way. "Stand aside, Ser."

"I suggest you do as the lady says," replied the knight.

Gawen bristled. "Your Grace, this is vile…"

"Go away, Grand Maester!" shrieked Alyssa, feeling Rhaena's moans and contractions get worse. "Leave!"

Jaw slack in shock, the Grand Maester soon recovered. "This is madness…" But at the insistence of Ser Dick, he withdrew himself from the chamber.

Tyanna's forehead burned, sweat now coating her as she struggled. This… this would be massively difficult a strain, something acting horribly upon the babe to expel him. "You're fully open, Rhae. Push. Push!" The entire bedchamber echoed with screams, sounding nearer to death throes than anything else.

Gripping Balerion's spines tightly, Maegor endured the force of his massive wingbeats. Larger than many keeps it often shocked the Prince whenever the Black Dread showed off a rather surprising agility and flexibility while airborne. Ungainly on the ground but acrobatic in the air - not as much as Dreamfyre or even Vhagar also landing upon the cliffs of the Dragonpalace a hundred feet off Balerion's wingtip - he always figured his bonded dragon was not so subtly showing off.

Eager to show the other dragons you're not an old codger yet?

Balerion thudded upon the ground, another, deeper thud resounding out with both wingclaws slamming onto the grass. He snorted at Maegor. 'Just wait till you get to be that line between youth and age. See what happens.'

Maegor chuckled. "Ten years ago I'd have said I'd be young forever… least now 'll only say that won't be any sooner than another decade."

'Take it from someone with many decades behind him, they go by sooner than expected.

"Gods forbid." Climbing down the spines of the Black Dread, he turned only to yelp as his muna was right behind him. "Must you do that?"

"Best that you remember that your muna is not one to be taken lightly. I am still faster and a better rider than you."

Maegor rubbed the back of his neck, nodding. Queen Visenya had definitely showed that off in the air, the two of them having visited Dragonstone for the day and returning just as the sun began to set across the western horizon. Already the dragons were ambling towards their brothers, sisters, and children, curling up to sleep and taking up a great part of the Dragonpalace's grounds. While buildings were sprouting up on the landward side, the seaward side was still largely bare grass. "We should have a proper home built for the dragons. The hill to the north seems proper, just off the Sept of Remembrance."

Visenya smirked. "Would give the Stars and Swords a fright, the dragons residing right alongside them… that's what your kepa and I were thinking before his death." She kissed his cheek, so much like her Egg was he. One of the reasons she adored her son.

Their musings were interrupted as several guards with torches raced from the holdfast, Ser Dick Bean in the lead. "Your Graces…" he gasped out.

Through the torchlight Maegor could see the panic on Ser Dick's face. It brought a pit of dread to his stomach as he approached. "Good Ser… is it Rhaena? The babe?"

"Her Grace entered sudden labor only hours ago…"

He wasn't allowed to finish. One look to the equally afraid Queen Visenya found a quick nod from his muna, giving him permission. Maegor left all of them behind, racing with his legs pumping hard towards the holdfast.

No one dared to block his path, Blackfyre clanking from where it was tied to his hip saying plenty as to why that would be folly. Maegor reached their shared chambers and shattered the din - brushing past the guards and slamming the door against the far wall with a resounding crack. "Where is my wife?!" he thundered, every inch a Valyrian Dragonlord at that moment.

Clutching hard to her kepa's side, Alysanne immediately spotted her uncle and ran to him. Throwing her arms around him with tears in her eyes. "Uncle!" Fresh streams of tears fell from her eyes. "Rhaena's hurt… they took her away! So much screaming!

Dread continued to build inside of Maegor, but with Alysanne holding onto him tightly he couldn't simply wrest her away. Instead he rubbed her back as gently as he could. Eyes peeking over her shoulder to lock eyes with Aenys. "Brother… what have you heard?"

Aenys, himself pale and trembling - Rhaena was his daughter just as she was Maegor's wife - shrugged. "I wished to be by her side but the birthing was difficult. Lady Tyanna… she had Lady Darke and Lady Mormont force me out. Alyssa was allowed in but…" Her muna, one that birthed five healthy babes. Of course even someone as determined as Tyanna wouldn't force her out.

But something wasn't right to Maegor. "What in Seven Hells happened?!" he ground out, trying not to hiss while aware of the slight little bundle of silver curls still enveloping him. "The maester said Rhaena wasn't due for another three weeks, and what does Tyanna have to do with it?" Close were the two - very close from what he knew - but for his muna's former spymaster to take over a birthing…

"She was chanting, uncle." Alysanne provided the answer. "She chanted a High Valyrian spell… I think it was to protect the babe."

Confused as Maegor was, at that point it became moot just as the door to the actual bedchamber opened and revealed a tired - an understatement, from her pallor and sunken eyes she looked like she hadn't been sleeping for days - Tyanna. At seeing Maegor, a small smile crossed her face and it was as if his heart was released from a vice. "The Princess is alive and well," she murmured.

The first reaction was from Alysanne. "Praise be to the old gods!" Disentangling from Maegor, she raced past Tyanna into the bedchamber, skirt gliding on the stone floor.

His own head bowed in silent prayer for a moment, Aenys moved to where his brother stood still. "Brother… thanks be to the Seven, Rhaena is alright." His head collapsed onto Maegor's shoulder, the last trembles leaving him.

But Maegor reacted not, a lump in his throat. "The babe?" While the first time for his beautiful dragon, four times this had happened to Maegor and each of them…

Tyanna bid him entry. "Come and see, your wife is waiting for you."

Maegor slowly walked towards the open doorway, unknowing of how he found the energy to place one foot ahead of the other. At the sight he gasped, fighting to keep his knees from buckling. Lying on the massive bed was Rhaena, her slight frame looking ever more tiny with her expression flushed and worn, but a smile stretched out on her face. The smile widened as her violet eyes found him. "Husband," she said weakly, reaching out for him.

His head spinning, Maegor rushed over to her side. "Rhaena." His voice wavered, unseeing of both Alysanne and Alyssa on the left side of the bed as he hurried to the right. "My love." He threw his arms around her and buried his head in her neck.

Draped in his warm embrace, Rhaena felt all was right in the world again. "Husband… I… I had no way of reaching you…"

"I shouldn't have left, gods…" Maegor was openly sobbing, tears flowing down his cheeks - not often did he let himself loose his composure, but for this… Four births did he miss, three for Ceryse and now Rhaena's. If she lost the babe without him by her side…

"I'm alright, husband, I promise." Pulling away, Rhaena cupped his face. Love reflected between them. "Please don't cry."

"Kessa, uncle, don't cry." Alysanne gazed at him worried, pointing to the crook of Rhaena's arm. "Look at my nephew. He's so adorable."

Brows knit in confusion, it didn't register to Maegor immediately. The sight must've made Rhaena giggle weakly, caressing his cheek. "My love, I want to show you something." A soft whimper snapped him out of his reverie, Maegor finally noticing a tiny bundle wrapped in red linen. A thatch of silver visible at the top. A wide smile broke on her face as she lifted the bundle in her hands. "Meet your son, Prince Daemon Targaryen."

Prince Daemon Targaryen… His son. Maegor had a son. Hands trembling, Maegor managed to scoop the bundle in his arms. Feeling him squirm and meld himself into his arms, the lids pulled back ever so slightly to reveal Rhaena's soft lavender staring up at him, all fear simply left him. "My son," he murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek. The smile was slow in curling, but soon threatened to split his face. "He looks like you, Rhae." There was wonder in his voice.

"We'll agree to disagree on that. He's his kepa's son." Tears stifled her eyes. "We made him, my love. We made this perfect Prince."

He wiped the last tears from his eyes. "We did, Rhae."

"Can I hold him? Can I hold him?" Alysanne had grown into what was approaching a dignified Princess, but in that moment she was quite insistent. Begging as a child.

Maegor smirked, leaning down to kiss Daemon one last time on the forehead before reaching out to Aly. "Be careful, hatchling."

To her credit, Alysanne was. She looked a natural muna, cradling Daemon ever so gently and cooing at him. "You're my nephew, Daemon." Rising from where she'd been resting, Syndor approached Aly, snout poking at the familiar yet unfamiliar smell of the new babe. Her presence made Aly giggle. "Yes, Syndor, here's your valonqar." Syndor sniffed Daemon, causing the babe to squirm and swat at the direwolf. Her tail wagged, she was happy.

Laughing, Maegor hugged Rhaena, kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too." Looking up, Rhaena met her silent muna's eyes. "Muna, would you like to hold the babe next?"

Quiet up till this point, Queen Alyssa nevertheless nodded. "Yes, thank you." For once, her glance at Maegor wasn't in hatred. "You've made a very beautiful boy, goodbrother."

Maegor nodded. "Thank you, goodsister." Soon, she and Aenys held their first grandchild together, cooing and kissing him. It was clear that Daemon's world would be filled with love even if the adults held strained relationships. Given that, it was all Maegor could ask for.

Settling back with Rhaena, he brushed a hair behind her hear. "My love, why did the babe come early? Do you know?"

Rhaena shook her head, swallowing hard. "I can't be sure… one moment I was fine and the next…" She immediately clutched at her husband. "We almost lost him, Maegor… but Tyanna… she saved him."

Brow raised, he looked at the Pentoshi bastard, rising from the bed. "Is this true?"

Tyanna, suddenly modest, nodded hesitantly. "There were… complications with the birth. It was too sudden to be normal, and I remembered an incantation from one of the Old Valyrian tomes in the Dragonstone library - a protective charm for the innocent. I don't know, I just thought anything that could work…"

She was cut off, Maegor suddenly just sweeping her into his arms. "Thank you."

Mouth open, Tyanna looked upon Rhaena and saw her smile, that same loving smile they used to share and now one only shared with Maegor. Sighing, she accepted the embrace, gingerly touching his sides in reciprocation.

All she could think was how Rhaena was right. His touch was wonderful.