YEAR 126 AC
Red Keep ― Small Council chambers...
Ten years had passed since Rhaenyra's wedding, four since the conflict between the Blacks and Caltrops began, and now the Year of the Red Spring had arrived. And yet, for King Viserys, the small council meetings were more of the same: politicking and banter about the state of affairs. Lyonel Strong, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, Orwyle, Lyman Beesbury, and Beatrice Peake sat across from him while Ser Harrold Westerling stood beside them.
"It's been four years, and the Triarchy once again has made its move, my lords. House Velaryon has already deployed the full might of its fleet to intercept them at the Stepstones," Tyland reported. "Word has it they've reached out to Dorne for talks of an alliance."
"Not again..." Viserys groaned. The aged king already had a lot on his mind; besides his health, his daughter Rhaenyra was due to give birth again at any time. He wanted to be there for her instead of being coped up in the small council chambers. "What about the emissaries we've sent to Sunspear? Any word from them?"
"Not yet, Your Grace. We're still waiting for Prince Qoren Martell to respond to our messages... as well as the Triarchy's," Lyonel reported.
"Well... I suppose we should keep our fingers crossed that reason prevails."
"If the talks do falter―" Beatrice tried to speak.
"No!" Viserys snapped. "I will not let the integrity of the realm be fractured over minor disputes. My negotiations, my lords, will not fail."
"If they do falter, Your Grace," Tyland repeated, "you realize that another war with the Dornish will be imminent. And with the Triarchy, while nowhere near powerful as they once were, could only complicate things if Dorne does ally with them."
"Your Grace," Lyonel gets up and walks to the window, looking out at the vast city from the Red Keep. "If I might make a suggestion, we could dispatch some agents to see if there could be anything that could be used to give us an edge in the peace talks as well as dealing with the Triarchy. House Velaryon will need all the support they can get in the meantime."
"Do you think it's wise to use the crown's resources during these stressful times?" Beatrice inquired suspiciously. "My lord Hand, if I may comment, I do not believe the situation is that serious enough to warrant the need to inquire about an outcome that's still unknown to us."
"Maybe, but it would help ease His Grace's stress if the matter is looked into. Perhaps... by someone, we're more familiar with... An old friend like... Prince Aeonar?"
Him? Again?! Beatrice fumed. "Lord Strong, I doubt that―"
"That's possible," Tyland surprisingly agreed. "He's just returned from Oldtown with his family. They should be arriving in a few minutes."
Viserys's face lit up. Although his heir was Master of Whisperers, the king was aware of his son's capabilities as a spymaster – allowing him to remain aware of ongoing events from anywhere, whether in Westeros or across the Narrow Sea itself due to the expansion and investment into his spy network. "Well, I suppose we should be the first to welcome them back home," he suggested.
Lyonel nodded. "He'll be as aware of the current situation, so if anything―"
A servant entered. "Forgive me for intruding, my lords. Your Grace," she apologized. "But it's Princess Rhaenyra. She's begun her labors. Praise the Mother."
"Already?" Viserys slowly rose to his feet, steadily supporting himself with his cane. "Well, I think I already know that Aeonar, Alicent, and their children will make their first stop to support Rhaenyra. Now, if you'll excuse me, my lords... I believe I'm expected to see my eighth grandchild being born."
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast...
Rhaenyra hated this feeling of having to go through with it again. This was her third time delivering a baby. Ever since her water broke, the princess felt back-and-forth contractions and was rushed by an army of midwives to help her deliver her new child. Sweat covered her face, neck, and upper torso, her Valyrian hair stuck to her brow, and she gritted her teeth, breathing heavily. "Uhhhhh...! Mnnnn!" she groaned. Oh, Seven hells. Here we go again!
One midwife, an older one, positioned herself behind Rhaenyra; another one, much younger, spread her legs apart to see – while the others prepared fresh towels and hot water.
"Keep breathing," the older midwife said.
Rhaenyra breathed in sharp yet rapid succession – inhaling through the nose and exhaling out the mouth. She'd do it more calmly, but each contraction was more painful than the last. And once she felt the discomforting pressure in her womb begin to gradually venture south, the pain hit in full force again.
"And push."
Rhaenyra gritted her teeth and pressed down. "Guuuuuu-huhuuuuu!" she groaned. The princess heard distinct squelching; her cunt slowly began to part in the preparation. Her muscles instinctively tightened as she pressed down. Get out of me! Hurry up! Get out of me! Rhaenyra gasped and slumped back, exhausted.
"And again," the midwife insisted.
"I c– I can't..."
"Yes, you can, princess. Now go. Push!"
"GNNNNNNN!!!" Rhaenyra groaned painfully. Again, the princess pushed as hard as she could. Come on! Do it! You've done this twice before! You can manage it! Again, more squelching sounds reached her ears and again Rhaenyra felt increased pressure descending as something hit her opening.
"The head!" the younger midwife exclaimed.
"PUUUUUUUUHHH!!" Rhaenyra moaned loudly. One final push and she felt the discomfort suddenly leave her body as quickly as it came. The princess slumped back, exhausted and feeling a sense of relief when it was finally over.
"*Waaaaah! Waaaah!*"
"There it is!"
"A boy, princess," the older midwife informed her.
"Praise the Mother!"
"*Waaaaah! Waaaah!*"
Rhaenyra opened her eyes at the announcement. A... A boy? I... I have another son. Oooh... Oh, thank the Mother, indeed. Smiling with relief, she stretched out her hands expecting her newborn to be returned to her. Once the bundle was placed in her arms, Rhaenyra adoringly gazed upon her baby. "Ahhh," she sighed. "Healthy?" she asked.
"Kicking like a goat, princess," the midwives confirmed.
Rhaenyra held her son close, cooing at him and poking his cheeks, watching with glee as the baby gripped his mother's finger with his tiny little hands.
"Congratulations, Rhaenyra," a familiar voice arrived.
Rhaenyra looked up, still exhausted, but was surprised to see Alicent being among the first to arrive. Her childhood best friend and sister-in-law, who, having given birth five times, remained as slender and graceful as before her first pregnancy. The years had been incredibly good to her as Alicent was nearing thirty yet looked as if she were still in her late teens or early twenties. By the gods, she hasn't aged a day and retained a splendid figure despite having five children. Nevertheless, Rhaenyra felt relieved to have some company again. "Oh, A... Alicent," she greeted wearily.
Alicent nodded. "Keep an eye out for the afterbirth," she warned the midwives.
"O-Ooh, oh shit!" Rhaenyra felt the discomfort arrive before finally expelling the placenta from her body, completing the third stage of her labor. Her midwives hurried to remove the waste and get rid of it as quickly as possible. "Gaaah..."
"Please prepare some wet towels for Rhaenyra and apply medicinal ointments for the perineal tearing. We'll need the maesters to close it up."
"Yes, my lady," the younger midwife complied.
Rhaenyra slowly laid down on the bed to rest. By the gods, the towels tapping against her skin felt so cool... aside from the cold, slimy medicinal ointment dabbled on her sensitive lady parts. Having done some thorough research, the maesters informed the midwives that these substances helped to prevent infections as well as numb the area affected by second-degree perineal tearing to make stitching much easier and painless. Within a few weeks, the stitches will be removed safely. Since when did Alicent become more assertive? Whatever the case, the princess was allowed a moment to catch her breath. She knew what she was doing as Alicent had more experience with childbirth than Rhaenyra did.
"I understand it's another boy," Alicent noticed.
Rhaenyra slowly nodded. "An... Another one. Yes," she sighed.
Then, as if on cue, the children began to enter and surround their aunt. Rhaenyra was amazed at the number of visitors she was getting in one day. Daeron, the youngest, donned a black attire with green embroidery – a tribute to his mother's family of House Hightower; Aemma was the loveliest girl wearing a pale pink dress and whose long, thick, curly Targaryen silver-gold hair reached her lower back – her face closely resembled Alicent's when she was younger; Aegon the Younger and his twin brother Viserys, each wore the traditional Targaryen black but each had different colored embroidery stitched onto their clothes to tell them apart – Aegon's purple, Viserys's blue; and, of course, the oldest, Jaehaerys was tall, clean, handsome, well-groomed, he tied his Valyrian hair into a low ponytail with only a few bangs hanging past his face. Seven hells, her niece and nephews were growing fast!
"Oh, my," Rhaenyra exclaimed with feigned surprise. "Where did you all come from?"
"Come on, aunt Rhaenyra. We just got back," Aegon feigned hurt.
"We brought you something from Oldtown. Thought you'd like it," Viserys handed his aunt a model sphinx.
"Oooh... that's nice, Viserys."
"Hey, I'm Aegon. He's―"
"Boys, don't start with your nonsense again," Alicent warned her sons.
Rhaenyra chuckled softly. "No, no. It's fine. I'm already aware," she turned her head. I suppose some things never change, do they? "Don't think I know what you've been up to... Viserys."
"Tehee! You got me, auntie."
"Hey! Don't forget about me!" Daeron complained, puffing his cheeks.
"Of course not. How could I ever forget Prince Daeron the Brave?" Rhaenyra ruffled her nephew's hair.
Daeron grumbled but couldn't resist a smirk.
"Aunt Rhaenyra," Aemma spoke softly. "I... I made you something," she presented a handmade blanket, sewn together with a cerulean hue with white puffy motifs resembling clouds. "It's meant to be a blanket. For the baby. Mother helped me with it, but..."
"Aww, Aemma," Rhaenyra graciously accepted the gift. She felt she was being spoiled today. "That's very sweet of you. Your cousin will like it very much."
"Is this him?"
"Yes, dear girl. Just promise to keep your voice down. He was just born less than a minute ago..."
"Ooh, he's so cute...!~" Aemma leaned for a closer look. "Are all babies born this small?"
"Some are, but yes, Aemma. Babies are naturally this small when they're born." Rhaenyra watched as her niece cooed over the baby. Lifting her eyes upward, she was visibly surprised at the other. "Jay?" she spoke. "My goodness, you've grown!"
Jaehaerys bowed his head. "It's good to see you again, aunt Rhaenyra, though it's been less than a few weeks since we last saw each other," he replied. He sounded more mature for his age. Responsible, studious. "Here, I picked this up for you in the Oldtown market. Figured you'd have some downtime when you're well enough," he gave his aunt a book.
"Thanks. That's sweet."
"Forgive us for overwhelming you like this. We understand you just gave birth and might want to have a moment for yourself to get some rest."
"Yes, that would be wise," Alicent agreed. "Jay, why don't you take your brothers and sister so your aunt can get some rest? Your father and I will be with you all shortly before the day is done. And don't forget to greet your lord grandfather before resuming your studies. Your cousins will no doubt want to see you as well."
"As you wish, mother," Jaehaerys acknowledged. "Come, Aegon. Viserys, Aemma. You too, Daeron."
"Aw, but I wanna see the baby," Daeron complained.
"Another time. Let's leave them alone for a while."
"Mmm~!"
"Bye, aunt Rhaenyra," Aemma waved.
All the children soon left the room, allowing Alicent and Rhaenyra a moment of privacy.
"Quite a handful, aren't they?" Rhaenyra jested.
Alicent sighed. "Each mother has her moments when her children grow. It's only natural," she replied.
"Haahh... how was Oldtown?"
"It went... well enough. We had to extend our stay for a while. My uncle Lord Hobert, he... passed away. Cousin Ormund has taken his place as lord."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Alicent."
"Thank you, Rhaenyra. He was ill for some time. Father, on the other hand, well... he can be as much as anyone could expect a former Hand to be."
"I'm surprised we've yet to hear from Otto after all these years." Rhaenyra raised a brow. "And how did the children react? My father was the only grandparent they've ever known."
Alicent shook her head. "Daeron had some trouble with respecting authority. Always defiant. Aemma was eager to get to know my father; she wanted to set up a relationship with him, but I don't think it would happen overnight. Aegon and Viserys? Well..." she shuddered. "I swear by the Mother, those two are always up to no good. Drove half of the Hightower's servants crazy with their wild antics until father had to intervene. I think they're more intimidated around him now." She seemed calmer upon going on further. "But I suspect it's Jaehaerys my father has taken a keen interest in. They seemed... all right, I guess. Jay's a little cautious but knows his manners and addresses his grandfather by proper protocol."
"'Proper protocol.' Sounds like Otto hasn't changed a bit when you explain it like that."
"On the contrary, father has been very busy these past ten years."
"How?"
Before Alicent could explain, one of the queen's servants – Taria, who replaced Graycie as lady-in-waiting – entered the room. "Princess... the queen has requested that the child be brought to her... immediately," she asked.
Rhaenyra was incensed. "Why?" she demanded. Oh, for the love of... I just gave birth, Beatrice!
She means to shame her. Alicent realized.
"Request denied," a cool voice entered the room.
Rhaenyra raised her head and Alicent turned around, as did the midwives. The room suddenly felt cold. Entering through the door... was Rhaenyra's older, Prince Aeonar. In the past four years, the Young Dragon's reputation was both respected and feared by both nobles and commoners alike. Since the Blacks and Caltrops were embedded in a deep-seated rivalry with one another in their bid for ultimate supremacy, local authorities informed residents to avoid them. Thus, the smallfolk began a rumor suggesting that if a Lykirī Mēre agent came knocking at your door then you knew trouble was afoot. Even the musical lyrics from "A Thousand Eyes, and Two" – which once originated as a song decorated to a war hero's exploits – served as a warning for those who dared scheme and plot treachery in the shadows. And since the Lykirī Mēre were sworn to Aeonar, those suspected of disloyalty were taken in for 'questioning.'
"The princess has just given birth and yet the queen insists on humiliating her. If Beatrice wants to see the child, then she should come here instead – not the other way around."
Taria felt a bead of sweat. "B-But the queen says―" she gulped.
"Do you wish to keep testing my patience, girl?" Aeonar warned. He turned to his sister. "You remain abed. So don't move."
Taria lowered her eyes and scurried out of the room. Alicent shook her head. Rhaenyra, meanwhile, appreciated her brother stepping in for her defense. The three of them traded glances, each of them suggesting they needed to trust what the other person is implying.
Aeonar approached Rhaenyra. Leaning over, his eyes glanced at the newborn. Huh. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a pug nose. Yet another one with no trace of Velaryon blood. The Young Dragon looked up at his wife; Alicent knew it too but mouthed him to keep his mouth shut.
"*Waaaaah! Waaaah!*"
"Shhh, shhh," Rhaenyra hushed her baby.
Again, the doors opened – revealing Ser Laenor. "A boy. I've just heard. Well done," he said enthusiastically. He noticed Aeonar and Alicent. "My prince, Lady Alicent," he greeted. He then noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere. "What's happening? What's going on?"
"Be prepared for the queen's arrival, Ser Laenor," Aeonar informed.
"Ugh! Again?"
"She wants to see him," Rhaenyra groaned.
"Now? What could she possibly want this time? I thought we were past this," Laenor said incredulously. "If that's the case, then I'll be right here when Her Grace does come."
"I should hope so."
"Well... let me take him."
"No. Beatrice will get no satisfaction from me."
Alicent pressed her hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder. "Stop moving around so much," she warned.
"Then just lay down at least," Laenor implored. "Was it terribly painful?"
Ugh! Look at them, babying me like this... because of Beatrice, Rhaenyra groaned. "Oh gods..."
"What do you think?" Aeonar raised a brow.
"I took a lance through the shoulder once. I am glad I am not a woman."
"Laenor."
Alicent whipped her eyes at him. "I assure you, Ser Laenor, that giving birth to a child is more painful than having a lance through the shoulder. Such pain would be unbearable for a man who would drop dead long ago, but we women are the only ones who can endure it and walk away," she scolded.
Laenor flinched. He knew well enough to know not to make light of a joke about childbirth and compare it to a wound inflicted on a battlefield.
After what felt like an hour, Queen Beatrice finally arrived in the room. The scowl on her face, knowing that her orders were once again being challenged so brazenly, was clear. But once she saw Aeonar, Alicent, Laenor, and Rhaenyra all gathered around each other, Beatrice regained her composure. "I understand congratulations are in order, princess," she said with false politeness. The queen leaned close to inspect the baby, but Rhaenyra instinctively shielded him from her.
"What happy news this morning!" King Viserys proudly arrived. "All my grandchildren in one place again!"
"Indeed, Your Grace," Laenor agreed.
"Where is he? Where is my grandson?"
Laenor gently scooped the baby from Rhaenyra's arms and passed him over to Viserys. The king inspected his newborn grandson with much affection, whispering praises, about how adorable the baby is, even commenting on how he will be a fearsome knight when he grows up. It was no secret Viserys doted on his grandchildren, he loved them all. And this infant was no different than how the king fawned over Jaehaerys, Aegon the Younger, the younger Viserys, Aemma, Daeron, Jacaerys, or Lucerys. All this baby needed... was a name.
"Does the baby have a name yet?" Beatrice inquired.
"Yes, does he?" Alicent asked.
Rhaenyra shifted to ease her discomfort. "We haven't decided―" she tried to speak.
"Joffrey," Laenor interrupted. "He'll be called Joffrey."
What?! Rhaenyra felt a wave of outrage within her. They were supposed to discuss names together, not one overruling the other in such important matters.
"Huh. That's an unusual name for a Velaryon," Beatrice commented.
"Unusual indeed," Aeonar coolly noticed as well. The Young Dragon knew Laenor intentionally wanted to name one of the children after his deceased lover, Ser Joffrey Lonmouth who died the night of the wedding ten years ago. It was by that time Aeonar had discovered Laenor's homosexuality as well as the arrangement he made with Rhaenyra on the beaches of Driftmark ten years ago despite them explaining to him that they did indeed try to conceive a trueborn. Bringing shame to your house and disgracing mine. You disappoint me, both of you. Do not ever think I'll let that slide.
"Ah, Joffrey. Prince Joffrey Velaryon. I do believe he has his father's nose. Don't you?" Viserys chuckled at the baby before turning to Aeonar. "Don't you think so as well, Aeonar?"
Aeonar said nothing.
"Uh, ahem!" Laenor cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest."
Alicent nodded. "Yes, Your Grace. It's more exhausting than it looks," she digressed.
"Oh! Oh yes, of course," Viserys acknowledged.
As the king approached to return Joffrey over to Rhaenyra, Beatrice caught a glimpse of the baby's hair color. It was brown, not silver or white; his eyes were brown, not purple. She knew what Rhaenyra had done.
"Well done, my girl. I do hope it was an easy labor."
"I think I called the midwife a cunt," Rhaenyra admitted.
"Oh."
Alicent shrugged. "Some... colorful choice of words does tend to spill out when we go into labor, father-in-law," she mentioned. "It's rather embarrassing."
"I won't deny that. I've had to watch Aemma go through it with Aeonar and Rhaenyra."
Before Laenor could leave, Beatrice pulled him aside. "Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Soon or late, you may get one who looks like you," she quietly insulted.
"Ahem!" Aeonar cleared his throat. The Orange Queen and Young Dragon stared each other down, sizing up the other before he pointed at the door – motioning for her to leave. Once Beatrice left, Aeonar shook his head.
"Oh, which reminds me," Viserys interjected. "I almost forgot to mention something. We discussed this subject in the small council chambers earlier this morning―"
"I know. I'm well aware," Aeonar interrupted. "We'll discuss this further with the rest of the council... in private."
Viserys nodded and soon left.
Rhaenyra slowly turned her head towards Laenor. "You don't... think to consult me before you name my child?" she asked in mild annoyance.
"He's our child, is he not?" Laenor retorted. "I deserve some say in the affairs of my own family."
"Only one of us is bleeding. You haven't seemed so interested in our affairs of late."
Alicent noticed the coloration of the sheets. "I'll have the servants change the sheets. But don't forget to take a bath," she advised.
"I won't, I won't," Rhaenyra sighed. She turned to her brother. "Aeonar, I―"
"I know what you're going to say, Rhaenyra." And I don't need to be reminded either.