"So, how was it being wed and bed, as your husband so eloquently put it last night?" Lyanna asked Cersei, treating her the same though the woman was now her Queen. Propriety was not something the Northern woman had much of. They were walking through the southernmost part of the castle gardens, where the grounds sloped toward the sea and the stone cliffs mellowed the sounds of another day's festivities. It was a beautiful place, and not for the first time Lyanna envied her friend. If her husband was anything in private like appeared in public, she was very lucky indeed.
She watched the Queen at her side smile fondly, almost privately. "It was...not what you had told me to expect. Not at all. He was so kind. He... I'm not sure it's proper to say all that he did, but he did not rush, and he put my pleasure first."
"Kind?"
"Yes, terribly kind… I… He… I hardly expected anything like that." Cersei wasn't used to stumbling over her words, but something about the King and the newness of it all made her tongue twist in her mouth. She had known kindness, love, and adoration with Jaime of course, but… somehow it was different. Each man was, perhaps. "He promised that he wouldn't hurt me, Lyanna."
The other woman was silent, an odd mixture of surprise, envy, and ambivalence on her pale features. Whereas Cersei was lit with the sun and her joy with her new husband, Lyanna's northern pallor had greyed in her time at Storm's End. "That's certainly something to be grateful for then," she finally murmured, "You seem to have gotten your knight after all, just like in the songs."
Cersei looked at her for a moment and then down at the ground, regretting her exuberance over the subject. Of course, her happiness with her husband and the gentleness of her bedding was not reflected in Lyanna's marriage. She hadn't meant to irk the other woman, or to brag. But she was delighted to finally have Rhaegar, to have had him, and for him to have been so gentle in the act. Besides, she was the Queen now. And not only that. Her King loved her as much as she did him. "Lyanna, I didn't mean to boast, I won't mention it again."
"I know, Cersei." She sighed, "I am happy for you, truly, and I would not wish a marriage like mine upon you, nor am I unhappy that the king was kind to you. If anything I am glad that you were right about him." She sighed and shook her head, taking a seat on a bench facing the sea.
The Queen sat next to her, her hands primly in her lap and her lips still drawn in a thin line. Most around her had come to know that that line masked the Lioness's internal conflict. Cersei sighed and ran a hand through her golden mane, before returning her hands to the crimson fabric of her dress. "I am happy as well, obviously. He could tell, I think, that I was terribly nervous. I expected him to be like you said…" Like Robert was.
"Be glad he wasn't. But, if I may, how was your acting my Queen?" Her tone turned jovial and she smirked.
Cersei blushed, nearly the red of her dress, and glanced at her hands. "I barely had to act at all. I was as nervous and shy as a maiden could be, with him. And," she lowered her voice slightly, embarrassed and wanting to ensure that they weren't overheard. Thankfully, no one was minding them today, the guards watching the entrances to the courtyard on the bluff above them rather than the Queen herself, and the sea drowned out the sound of their voices. She continued with a blush. "It did hurt, at first, more than I expected. It wasn't entirely unpleasant… merely… uncomfortable at first. I think…" her blush deepened, "He must have been bigger than I had had before."
Lyanna glanced at her friend and her Queen in surprise for a moment and chuckled softly, breaking into indelicate laughter after a second. "Oh my darling girl," she shook her head, "you still know so little."
That earned her a glare from Cersei. "I recall you said that once a man put his cloak around my shoulder and promised to protect me, I was no longer a child. I can assure you, Rhaegar has made that promise, so do stop patronizing me."
"I'm hardly patronizing you," she laughed, rolling her eyes, "though I imagine it made it easier to pretend you still had your maidenhead. Did you bleed?"
Cersei blushed yet again, shaking her head. "I …I did as we planned. He never suspected." She felt bad, in a way, lying to her closest friend and confidant, and yet it was nice to have this secret with her new husband. She had never actually broken her skin to fake her bleeding. Instead she had woken to the pleasant feeling of Rhaegar kissing the side of her neck, his fingers running through her hair gently. She had never woken up like that with Jaime, nor did she imagine she could have, with the weight of their secret and the fear of being caught. He smiled when he felt her stir slightly, murmuring a quiet good morning into her hair. She had returned it, and rolled onto her other side facing him, allowing him to kiss her softly. The King, it seemed, was not the most fond of soft kisses, and soon he was claiming her mouth, his hands sliding over her breasts, ribs, and stomach, making her giggle far too childishly. He didn't seem to care, smiling delightedly up at her and nibbling her lip. It would have been a lovely moment, if not for the entry and subsequent traumatization of several of the Queen's young handmaidens. Evidently, they had not expected the King to stay over, let alone to be nipping at his wife's collarbone in the morning. The girl's had scattered, and both Cersei and Rhaegar had stared at the door for a second before collapsing into awkward laughter. After a moment he had quieted and smiled over at her. "Well, now that our morning has been so rudely cut short… I believe there's a small matter we need to attend to?" He had arched a brow and Cersei had been fully prepared to cut her hand or her thigh to get the blood needed, but Rhaegar had scoffed and refused to even let her near the knife. "Do you really think I would let my Queen scar herself over something this slight? No. Let me, m'lady," he smiled at her softly, dragging the blade expertly over his ankle, letting the blood bead up on his skin. "How much, do you think?" After that, they joked about it as the King dabbed his blood on their bed sheets and the Queen waited, still not wearing a stitch of clothing. Once he had finished, she moved over and wrapped his ankle, smirking softly and kissing him gently. When the sheets had been inspected by the handmaidens (and discretely a maester and a septa) there were no questioning brows or polite inquiries. The secret remained between the King and his Queen.
Of course, Cersei couldn't tell Lyanna any of that, nor did she. Instead she smiled softly and let the conversation drag on, until a guard came to collect them. The secret remained firmly trapped between her smirking lips.
Some in the capitol found the camaraderie between the King and Queen odd, unsettling even. It wasn't proper in the eyes of the Septas, to catch the ruler of the realm pressing his wife up against the stones of the higher towers in the middle of the day, nor to spend awkward suppers watching them focus solely on each other. That wasn't to say that the king neglected his duties in anyway. If anything with Cersei at his side he was a stronger ruler. He attended every council meeting, unlike many a king before him, and often the Queen came with him.
The first month of their marriage that was how things functioned, Rhaegar a competent King and Cersei always by his side. She didn't yet have the grasp of politics enough for the men to permit her to speak, but it was private belief that Rhaegar was training her to do so. At least until the meeting neither of them attended, which happened to be a quite important trade meeting with House Tyrell. Tywin was more than capable of organizing the agreement, though their absence did have the effect of making the entirety of the small council incredibly curious. When a page was sent to find the King, he was directed to the Queen's rooms, but the scene he found was not that which he'd expected.
Instead of finding the King and Queen curled in passion, he found the King on his knees before the Queen. At first it was off-putting, nothing he'd quite seen before, until he notice the King's hands caressing the silk over the Queen's stomach as if he were in prayer. The page left, opting not to tell the Hand what he had seen. They would all know soon enough.
Cersei let out a slow breath as she smiled down at her husband, his hands still on her stomach. They'd been there for the last half hour, and he didn't seem to be done speaking any time soon. Of course, she hadn't the faintest idea of what he was saying; the High Valyrian was completely lost on her, though something about his unfailing focus was both unsettling and delightful. She stayed still, though her feet were beginning to protest the lack of motion and her legs shook slightly from the effort of staying stock-still. Her hands ran through his hair, coaxing him to stand and to kiss her gently. "Are you happy, my King?" She whispered.
It took him a moment, to focus those violet eyes on her fully. "Am I happy?" He whispered, his eyes twinkling in a way she had never quite seen. "Of course I'm happy, Cersei… by the gods… I couldn't be happier."
She smiled, nodding as she stared up at him. "Really?"
"Yes. It's barely been a month, and already…"
"Your seed has quickened in my womb," she whispered, resting her hands over his on her silks. "We're going to have a child, Rhaegar."
He nodded, stroking his thumbs over her skin before he removed his hands to cup her face, kissing her brow with a soft hum. "Yes we are. The first head of the Dragon." He smiled, but he knew he'd done wrong the moment he saw Cersei's eyes fall to the floor, and her smile tighten on her face. She seemed to stiffen in his arms and pull away, although not physically. He'd only seen her wall off once, when a visiting trader had laughed at her presence at a trading meeting. But it wasn't like this. "Cersei. Cersei look at me," he pleaded, trying to lift her head to face him.
But his Queen wouldn't, even when she did meet his eyes they didn't twinkle like they had moments before, all sense of her being happy with this gone. She was blank-faced and sunken, hollow. "I'll do my duty, my King. Now please, I need to rest, and I believe you have a council waiting on you."
Something splintered between them then, though he wasn't quite sure what, and he held her face a moment longer. A part of him wanted to push her and make her see that he meant no ill by mentioning the prophecy, that was immensely pleased with her pregnancy either way. But that was the same part of him then fought to shout at her and tell her she was being insolent and disrespectful, the part of him that wished him to be like his father. So instead he refrained and nodded, leaving his wife in her chambers.
It was an odd thing, her reaction, and he couldn't get it out of his head as he went about his duties. And it went on for weeks. Cersei refused him, avoided him. He could take his rights, of course, but he wouldn't even if the risk of hurting his child wasn't present. She seemed to draw in on herself, aging before the eyes of the Keep. Many claimed women seemed to be lit from within when with child, but that was certainly not the case with Cersei. If anything, the child inside of her seemed to be sapping the light right out of her.
She sat all day in her chambers, refused to go about the gardens as she used to. It seemed to pain her to go out of the Keep even to bid farewell to her best friend, and it was obvious to everyone that she was in no state to be hosting anyone. Her skin had taken on a sort of opalescent pallor, both beautiful and ethereal, but sickly. She was eating, but only when she was told to, and not with any sort of delight. Rhaegar felt that she would slip away under his fingers when he touched her, which was rare enough as it was. She still smiled her beautiful smiles, but they were false, empty like her eyes.
After weeks, it was Tywin Lannister who stepped up, and strode into his daughter's rooms, throwing back the drapes pulled tight over her windows. The sunlight illuminated the dust in her rooms, and the Queen turned away.
"Don't." Tywin spoke calmly, but his voice boomed into the quiet space and Cersei flinched away. "Whatever it is that set you off like this, you have taken more than long enough to recover. Now, there is kingdom circling with rumors over what has happened to their Queen. I suggest you settle those." He glanced at her, not waiting for a reply. "You are with child Cersei. That is hardly something novel, and you should be pleased," his lips quirked in a simile of a smile. "I knew your courtship was long, but the effect seemed to be quite worth it."
She blinked at him, still expressionless.
"You will do your duty as a Queen as well as a wife, Cersei, and you will do your duty as my daughter. No Lannister will sit in bed all day wallowing in whatever it is that has soiled your happiness with the King."
His daughter scoffed, but did not make a move.
"Get. Up." He ordered, "Go make up with your husband and fix whatever this is. Now." He walked to the bed and pulled back her quilts, like she was still a child and not the most powerful woman in the realm. "I will not have my daughter remain like this."
Cersei sighed, but got up, straightening out the rumpled fabric of her nightdress. Her steps were uneven, stumbling more than she would have ever let herself in the past as she made her way past her father's watchful gaze.
"I expect to see you cleaned up and with a proper meal in you by the time I see you outside of these doors. And then you will go to the King's solar and you will apologize to him for behaving like a petulant child."
"I have not been a child," she hissed, staring up at him with a spark of her fire returned to her eyes. "I am a lioness, and I will not be treated like broodmare for the King's ends." She glared at him, her teeth grinding steadily as she stared up at him.
Tywin rolled his eyes, shaking his head at her antics. "You are being a child as we speak. King Rhaegar has hardly treated you as a broodmare, your actions these past weeks have troubled him as much as they have troubled you. He has not been himself, and the kingdom has suffered."
She stared at him a moment, a brief flare of surprise crossing her sharp features, further sharpened by the little she had eaten. But as quick as it was there is was gone. "He only cares for his 'three heads' and his dragons and prophecy, Father. Everything before that… well the King is quite the liar. I should never have believed he loved me, I should never have thought it could be like…" she stopped, realizing who she was talking to. "Fine. I have been childish, and I will do my duty." She nearly spat the words, turning away from him. "Now, leave me. I need to get cleaned up, do I not?"
The Hand hummed, pleased, and left her without a word, allowing her plethora of handmaidens to enter. Cersei remained as silent as she had been since that conversation with Rhaegar, but her sullenness was absent. She was a lioness, she would not cringe simply because her husband saw her as a way to fulfill a prophecy rather than the love she had thought he perceived her as. She could and would pretend to be happy still, no matter how bitter it made her in the end. She was a Queen, and that's all she needed.
The maidens drew her a bath, perfumed with rose oil and lemon, and Cersei slipped beneath the water with a sigh of relief. When she greeted Rhaegar after weeks of silence, she would be more beautiful than when he first saw her. If there was one thing she could do, it was make him regret treating her as he had, even if the slight was in her mind alone.
She hadn't yet begun to show signs of pregnancy, and easily slipped into her second-best gown, more gold than red, and had her handmaidens lace it tightly around her. It felt like, armor, somehow, pulling the fine fabrics on after weeks of tawdry dresses meant for bed. She let the girls braid her hair, leaving most of it to hang in damp waves down her back. True to her father's request, she ate a full meal before she headed to her husband's solar, more than she'd eaten in one sitting in a week. Her steps were sure again as she strode through the halls, stepping into the sunlit room. It was stacked with books, a reminder that Rhaegar was an avid a scholar as he was a warrior, if not more. In the corner was his harp; untouched since the day they fought. He only sang songs for her now, and any songs he wanted to sing now were too morose for the harp.
"My King," Cersei spoke calmly, "I believe we need to talk."
Rhaegar turned around, rising from his chair and striding toward her, stepping so close that he seemed almost menacing. He had had more than half a mind to menace her, over the weeks, and it was only a fear of hurting her and his love for her that held his hand and his tongue. "Now? After weeks you ordain it fit to speak with me?" He spat, glaring down at her though she held still and glared right back at him, "You have ignored me, refused me, avoided me these past weeks without a single explanation. So please, do talk."
"I believe you are clever enough to ascertain exactly why I refused you, my King," She hissed, bordering on a snarl. "After all, what need I see you now that I'm with child? Everything I believed about you was a lie, Rhaegar. And I know, I wed you and I am not required to love you, nor is it expected for you to even remotely care for me. But do tell me if that is the kind of marriage you desire, so I can prepare myself to share your bed with whores-" Cersei gasped, finding herself pressed up against the wall of the solar, Rhaegar's hands gripping her shoulders.
"Stop!" He shouted, stepping back from her after a moment. "That is not what I want! Seven Hells, if that were what I wanted, would have told you all that I did, about the prophecy, would I have promised never to hurt you? No!" He ran a hand through his silver hair, "Cersei, I have grown to love you, and I had hoped we could have a loving marriage. The prophecy is merely a side note. Yes, it pleases me that you're already pregnant. Yes, part of that is due to the prophecy, but most of it" he sighed, stepping closer to her and cupping her cheek. "Most of it is because I treasure you, Cersei, and I am proud to have you as my wife, to have chosen you to bear my children."
"But I can't exactly say no, can I?" She muttered, looking up at him and completely ignoring the fluttering of her heart when he told her things like that. "I thought...I thought ours would be a marriage like in the songs, Rhaegar. And I know it's terribly childish, but I truly believed you would be that man for me, that you wouldn't be the beast Lyanna tells me her own husband is. I believed the message in those banners you hang about this place- the dragon wrapped around the lioness. I want that!" She stepped closer to him, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "I wanted it so much I would give you everything, all of myself. I trust you more than I trust anyone, even my brother. And I love you. But... When you mentioned that prophecy..."
"I broke my promise. I hurt you." He whispered, cupping both her cheeks and pulling her to him, resting his chin on her head. "I never meant to."
Cersei gave in. She leant into him and wrapped her arms around him, not caring if she was a lioness or not. She let herself cry, her tears beading on the leather of his doublet. His hand carded through her hair and he kissed her scalp as she cried silently, shaking in his arms after several minutes. She hadn't seemed to calm and that worried him.
"Cersei?" He whispered, pulling back enough that he could tilt her chin to look at him. Even tear streaked and morose she was beautiful, and he couldn't help but drop his lips to hers. She surprised him by kissing back, slowly and unsure than any kiss from her had ever been. He hated that, the hesitance there, and pushed harder, kissed her deeper. He found her pliant but not passionate, little of the woman he had come to love conveyed in her kiss. "Cersei... Please believe me. I love you. I do not want you to think that I do not, or that I see you as...as a source of children and little else. I have missed you by my side, I need you by my side, I need to be in your bed, and I need you. Please."
She stared at him, her brows arranged skeptically and her lip between her teeth. She was thinking, but he didn't give her time for that.
Before she could reply Rhaegar picked her up and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him and carrying her through the solar to his own chambers. She'd never been in them of course, he frequented her rooms more than anything else, or at least he had before, and it was not something he believed was considered normal. The king's bed was for the king's business. For many a man that would have meant the king's whores, but Rhaegar was not that sort of man. He dropped his wife onto the black silks and kissed her again, wanting her to react. It took time, but the Queen did, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him down, almost digging into the King's scalp in their force.
There were seldom moments in the last weeks where he had seen Cersei be the lioness he had married, but this was surely one of them. After seconds the Queen had taken control of the kiss, her hands working through his hair and scrambling over his scalp, moving further and scoring the leather in her ferocity. There was more anger there than most men appreciated from their wives, but after weeks of tepid silence, Rhaegar relished it. He wanted her to hurt him, to mark his skin with her wrath and leave bruises with her spite. And though it went unspoken, Cersei seemed all too willing to comply. King or not, she disrobed him and rode him, golden hair falling in a curtain around them both until she arched back in ecstasy, the cry on her lips something he had missed more than anything.
Once they had finished, she lay panting on his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair, following the strands to the lowest part of her back, and back up, occasionally lower just to taunt her. She kissed him lazily, with all the love and want he had missed, and words bubbled up in his throat, making it ache with their necessity. "I love you, my Golden Queen," He murmured, caressing her cheek, "I adore you, and I never meant to hurt you. But please… Please the next time I anger you, tell me what I have done. In fact, even if I did not anger you, but you are angry, please tell me what it is that upset you." He sighed, looking up at her. "This silence… I never want to see it again."
It wasn't an order, but a request, and Cersei could respect that. She smiled wryly at her lord husband and kissed his jaw. "I will. Though I'll warn you, a great many things make me angry."
Rhaegar laughed. "Then I will spend as much time as I can afford listening to your grievances."
He thought she was teasing. She was not.
Pregnancy was not particularly hard on the Queen. It was, however, extremely tedious to the royal court, her barrage of handmaidens, and anyone unfortunate enough to work in the kitchens. And the King, true to his word, listened to her complaints and did his best to solve them. There were many complaints. Food made her sick, but she was hungry. Then, there was nothing she wanted to eat. He sent to Dorne for fruit, which seemed to satisfy her for a while. But soon that grew tiresome. She couldn't sleep, it was too hot in her rooms, so he brought her to his, but then his bed was uncomfortable. Then, she grew tired, irritable, and refused to come to small council meetings. Or any meetings. That worried him.
It took almost into her sixth moon for him to truly come face to face with the demon his wife could be when pregnant. Above all her other complaints, Cersei most frequently lamented her size. It didn't matter than both the Maesters and the women about the Keep agree that she was carrying quite easily, nor that she had hardly gained any weight anywhere besides her swelling stomach. The mere fact that her dresses had been let out and now she was wearing simple, robe-like gowns tired her to no end.
"They can't seem to make me a decent dress," She muttered one morning, still sitting naked as the day she was born on her bed, hair a mess about her shoulders. The handmaidens would be in in a moment, but for now she was watching Rhaegar dress, and bemoaning her shape yet again. "It cannot be that difficult to not make me look any… larger than I already am."
"You're not," He sighed, internally groaning as he knelt before her and pressed a kiss to the skin above her navel. "You're with child, Cersei, if you were no larger I would be quite worried." He smiled laughingly up at her and kissed her nose. "Besides, you're even more gorgeous now. Although when you scowl like that…"
"Shut up," She huffed with a soft pout, though her emerald eyes twinkled in a smile. "I am not scowling."
"No, you're pouting now," He winked. "And it's far too sexy, you really must stop."
That got her to laugh, and she rolled her eyes at him, "You must make everything a joke, mustn't you?" She smiled, before taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply. "Go, before my father comes looking for you again." It was her turn to wink, and she stood up just as her favorite handmaiden entered, nodding before the girl could speak and heading to her bath.
Rhaegar rolled his eyes, but he was glad that she seemed to be cheered up.
In high summer the realm was in peace, largely, and crops were up in Highgarden this season. Without the fear of Aery's terror, the people were satisfied with things. Ruling was easy enough, which gave him far too much time to focus on his wife, much to her father's apparent disdain. Of course, Rhaegar knew as well as Tywin did that him being pleased with Cersei, loving her as he did, was as much a blessing as it was a surprise. Still, he did make an effort to do rule, and the damages of his father's reign had been repaired, the Greyjoys put back in their place and taxed by the realm, and the debt to the Iron Bank settled. He knew he had to prove to the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms that he wasn't his father, nor was he some green boy caught up in being King. He could rule, and he would rule, and a better King than his father had ever been.
To do that, the last year had shown, he needed Cersei's support. Though she had become much more difficult in the past months, it was still worth it to the King to cater to her every whim so long as it kept her by his side and appeased. Her father gave good counsel, and Cersei rarely spoke in meetings or attended them anymore, but she gave excellent private council. He had no doubt if any man besides Tywin Lannister wore the title of Hand, she would have no qualms about speaking her mind, and giving him council.
Still, he was grateful for a peaceful summer. He would not want any of his children to be born into the harshness of winter or war, though he knew the two were as inevitable as summer heat or Cersei's tantrums.
The death of Queen Rhaella in childbirth had left behind Rhaegar's youngest sibling, a small if strong little girl. Daenerys had needed a mother, and the newly crowned queen knew her expectations. Quickly those had become much more than expectations, the more time she spent with the girl. She grew attached to her, and by the time the girl was nearly a year old, and the queen in her seventh moon of pregnancy, she was well bonded to her. Since Cersei spent fewer and fewer hours in court and meetings, she spent increasing time with the infant princess. The girl rarely left her side when the queen was in private.
"Sei," Daenerys whined, unable to say the queens full name yet. Her small pouted lips pulled on the syllables and she managed to her the last one out. Rhaegar was "Rae" to the girl, and Cersei found it far too adorable. And besides, as the king often said, spending time with Daenerys was good practice for their own child.
"What, little dragon?" Cersei laughed, picking her up and lounging in the garden chaise. "You're too small to be a dragon. More of a lizard."
The princess shook her head, tugging on the length of Cersei's braid as she sat on her lap, before resting her hands on the woman's swollen belly. "Sei?"
"Not a lizard then. Well, dragon it is." She laughed again, kissing her brow. "You'll have another little dragon to play with soon. Maybe a little boy, hmm? A prince?"
Dany pointed to Viserys in the yard with one of her tiny hands."Pwince!"
"Better than Viserys," Cersei muttered. She had no love for the younger prince, insipid and arrogant as he was. Scrawny and pale eyed, the boy looked like a washed out and emaciated version of her husband. With none of his kindness. Already the wet nurse was troubled by him with Daenerys. Cersei knew that Rhaegar as well hated the boy, and blood of the dragon or not, she wouldn't have him around her children. She'd already asked Rhaegar to send him to ward with another lord.
She was only waiting for the king to find a suitable host.
Deanerys, on the other hand, was adorable and sweet and would be a perfect companion to Cersei's own child. The queen turned back to her and kissed her tiny nose. "You, princess, are far too cute..." She tickled the girl softly, beaming as she giggled. She could spend hours with the small girl, those violet eyes reminding her so much of Rhaegar, and she hoped her own children would do so as well. Violet eyed and silver haired, she wanted Targaryen children, princes and princesses, the future kings and queens of the realm. Well, no longer Queens. Rhaegar had said he was ending the tradition, and Cersei's had agreed. How could she tell him she didn't mind, that she and Jaime... She couldn't, and she never would.
She ran a hand over her stomach and smiled softly, before arranging Dany on her hip and heading back into the Keep.
Cersei went into labor on the hottest day of the summer, and coincidentally while Rhaegar was in the Kingswood hunting with Robert Baratheon. The man was a fool, and the King spent half the trip grinding his teeth over the japes he made about the Queen, as well as his own wife. When the rider came to tell him to return to the castle, it was a blessing. Still, the ride to the Red Keep could not have gone slower for the King, even though he rode far ahead of his kingsguard. Cersei would murder him herself if he missed the birth of their child.
Thankfully, he arrived when she was still beginning the process, according to the Maesters. When he entered she looked composed, relaxed in the birthing bed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips. "I was afraid I would miss it," he murmured.
"I have been assured you won't," She sighed, though smiled softly, anxiously, at him. "Apparently it takes hours…" She briefly recalled the faint memories of her brother's birth, her mother's screams, the blank, thousand yard stare of her father as he had them escorted from the hall. And the blood, when she snuck back in to see, to understand. So much blood. And her twisted monster of a little brother lying in his cot, face red and ruddy, but sleeping peacefully. The memory drained the blood from her face and the smile from her lips, and she looked away from Rhaegar, a hand coming across her stomach as she tightened her grip on his hand.
"What is it?" He murmured, but she couldn't reply before a stronger contraction ripped through her and she forgot to breathe for a moment. More than, since he had to squeeze her hand and remind her to breathe.
When it past Cersei panted softly, looking up at him. "What. What if…" She swallowed and dropped her voice. 'What if it's like Tyrion?" The unspoken was evident, her fears of her mother's fate alongside those of failing the realm, her family, her father, and Rhaegar.
Rhaegar froze for a moment and shook his head. "It won't be. Don't worry, it'll be as perfect as you and you," He paused, resting a hand on her cheek, "You will be fine." She had to be. If she died in childbirth like Lysa Arryn had, he wouldn't know what do with himself. He squeezed her hand again and kissed her brow. "Lyanna was just fine, and she sent a letter did she not?"
"Yes," She sighed, looking up at him and bringing her breathing back to normal. "She did. She told me it would all be worth it in the end… but she has a healthy son, three months old. Of course she would say that." She frowned, the stubborn cast to her features he so loved settling further. "She also doesn't have dwarfs in her family line. I do!"
"Neither do I," He told her, "Just as you have no madness. Our children will be perfect, golden dragon cubs." He laughed softly, having just come up with that. "Dragoncubs?"
Cersei rolled her eyes. "You think you're so clever don't you?" Still, he was right, there had been dwarfs in the Lannister line alone. Besides, Tyrion was born in a winter storm, when afflictions plagued the Rock. She was young, healthy, unrelated to Rhaegar, and it was high summer. She would be fine.
After another half day of worry and pain, the Maester's forced Rhaegar from the room. Or at least they tried to, since the King calmly refused and the Queen panicked at the thought. They let him stay, holding her hand and periodically losing the circulation in it as her contractions increased.
Their daughter came into the world as the darkness was splitting into dawn, and Rhaegar already began thinking of new songs to herald her to. She was the second birth of the sun, after Cersei, and just as perfect. Sadly, when they announced it was a baby girl, he had to watch his Queen's face turn crestfallen for a moment. He wanted to tell her it didn't matter to him if she gave him sons or daughters, or any sons at all. To him, it mattered not. But he knew that her father would blame her, and expect her to give him a prince. The thought almost made him want to hit the man. But the look on her face past once the tiny girl was placed in her arms, and he watched Cersei's face break out in a bright, if exhausted smile.
"Hello," She whispered to the small girl, cradling her expertly and kissing her tiny nose. After a minute she looked up at Rhaegar. "You were right… she's perfect."
"Yes she is." He nodded, "And she couldn't be more perfect. And Cersei," He paused, leaning forward to kiss the Queen's brow. "You did wonderfully. I don't care that she's a princess not a prince, and I will not let anyone tell you otherwise." A princess could still be a head of the dragon, as in Aegon's time. And he was sure there would be Prince's to come.
She was understandably surprised, flicking her eyes from his to her daughter, noting that she had the deep violet eyes of her father, possibly even deeper amethyst. The Queen swallowed and nodded, relieved and exhausted tears springing to her eyes. "Thank you," She whispered, "Thank you, my love." He always seemed to read her fears like that, and she knew she usually masked them. But maybe Rhaegar just knew her that well, and paid much more attention than anyone ever had.
"You don't have to thank me," The king promised, running a hand over her hair as he too looked at their new child. "I should thank you though, you did all the work."
"Indeed," She laughed quietly, smiling as the baby grabbed at her robes. "Do you think she's hungry?" The maesters had left, on orders from Rhaegar she hadn't heard, and she felt comfortably free with just her husband and daughter.
He beamed softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "Maybe she just wants to be closer to her mother. We should name her before the entire court demands it of us." He ran a hand over the girl's back, humming softly.
Cersei hummed as well, not the same tune, and looked between them again. "She looks like you. She should have a Targaryen name." She hoped, truly, that all her children would have the Targaryen look. They were to carry on a dynasty, and though Rhaegar had married outside the bloodline (to preserve it, he claimed, the shadows of his father on his features), Westeros had always been ruled by silver-haired, violet-eyed dragons. She didn't want to change that.
"Did you have anything in mind?" He murmured, cutting into her thoughts. She knew he would be thinking of Visenya, since he so often called her that, but she didn't want to name her something so well known.
Of course, Tywin had filled her lessons with Targaryen history, and she ran through the names in her head. Her daughter may look like her father's kin, but Cersei's pride revolted against the purely Targaryen names, and those known to every peasant in the kingdom. Her daughter deserved something less common, and a name at least reminiscent of her own family's names. "Daena? Or am I recalling that wrong?"
"The wife of Baelor the Blessed… no, that's right." Rhaegar murmured, "It's a good name." it sounded rather similar to his sister's name, though Daenerys was only a year older than his daughter. Cersei had bonded well with the girl, but he expected that to change with the arrival of her own daughter. He would see to it that they grew up together, at least, since he could not force the Queen to mother his sister. He hoped she would continue to care for her though.
She smiled softly. "Daena, then. Daena Joanna."
The King nodded and kissed her brow, before he allowed her the privacy of feeding her daughter, and went to tell Tywin the news.
After he left, Cersei looked down at the tiny girl and smile tiredly, stroking back the feather light silvery blonde hair on her head. She didn't speak, there were too many words clustered on her tongue and she had been up for too long and too exhausted by the labor to make them coherent. Her daughter would be beautiful, cherished, and loved, the Queen's most prized possession. She smiled as she invited the child to suckle her breast, already despising the idea of a wet nurse. Propriety be damned, she knew Rhaegar wouldn't mind if she insisted on caring for Daena herself. After all, she'd already proven herself more than capable with Daenerys, and her own child would be even easier.
The fact that she had born a girl didn't bother her now that she held her. Even the fact that both Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark already had male heirs just months older than her daughter didn't phase her. Neither Joffrey Baratheon nor Robb Stark was the crown-anything of any realm, and her daughter was the crown princess. At least until a price came along, which he would. Considering how oft she and Rhaegar were joined, she knew it wouldn't be long. And even if it were, the precious child now sleeping in her arms would be enough. Daena was hers, not given to her, not loaned or on her father or Rhaegar's allowances, but hers. She made her, carried her, birthed her, screamed and bled for her. And Cersei would treasure her.