King's Landing, Red Keep – 120 AC
I sighed heavily, just a moon ago I had been reveling in the freedom of the Stepstones with my beloved family, cherishing the tranquility and solace they had found on Bloodstone. But now, here I was, reluctantly dragged back to the suffocating embrace of the Red Keep. The Red Keep, with its corridors echoing with whispers of betrayal and deceit, had been a prison of my own making. The wounds of past abuses still lingered, a constant reminder of the torment and humiliation I had endured. In the Stepstones, I had finally begun to heal, surrounded by the love of my wife Laena and our two daughters, Baela and Rhaena.
But now, duty called, and I had no choice but to heed its summons. The King's command was not one to be ignored, even if it meant sacrificing the peace and serenity, I had fought so hard to find. With a heavy heart, I packed my bags and flew back to King's Landing, my family in tow. The oppressive atmosphere of the capital threatened to suffocate me once more, casting a shadow over my hopes for a brighter future. Yet, I knew I had to endure, for the sake of my family and the obligations that bound me to the crown.
Yet as I surveyed the lavish banquet hall, I couldn't help but feel dark amusement. My eyes settled on the figure of my brother's queen, Alicent Hightower, her attempts to sway the lords and ladies of the realm to her cause, to undermine my niece Rhaenyra's rightful claim to the throne, filled me with disdain. Alicent's delicate features were carefully schooled into an expression of regal grace, but I saw through the facade to the cunning ambition that lay beneath. It was a charade that played out before Viserys, our feeble-minded king, who seemed oblivious to the machinations unfolding under his very nose.
I felt a surge of indignation rise within me as I watched my brother's complacency, his failure to protect his own daughter from the venomous intrigues of the court. Rhaenyra had been named the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, yet Viserys allowed her to be torn apart by the vipers that slithered in the shadows of the Red Keep. It was a betrayal that cut deep, not only for Rhaenyra but for all those who held true to the blood of the dragon. How could Viserys stand idly by, allowing his own flesh and blood to be sacrificed on the altar of his own incompetence?
Viserys, my brother, had always been a man of feeble resolve, easily swayed by the whispers of those around him. But even I, Daemon Targaryen, had hoped that his love for his eldest daughter would compel him to act, to shield her from the treachery that lurked within these walls. Yet, as I watched him sit upon his gilded throne, a mere puppet in the hands of my niece's enemies, I felt a bitter surge of disappointment grip my heart. Viserys had always been a coward, more concerned with his own comfort than the welfare of those he professed to love.
I remembered the days when Aemma, his first wife and my dear cousin, still walked among us. She was a gentle soul, kind and full of life, yet Viserys allowed her to be torn apart by the cruelty of this court. They mocked her, called her defective and barren, while Viserys stood by and did nothing to defend her honor. I witnessed the agony etched upon Aemma's face as she endured miscarriage after miscarriage, stillbirth after stillbirth. Each loss was a dagger to my heart, and when she lay dying, her strength drained by the relentless tide of sorrow, Viserys made the ultimate betrayal.
He chose to cut her open, to rip our beloved Aemma apart in a desperate bid for a son, a son who drew breath for but a single day before slipping away into the cold embrace of death. It was a tragedy of his own making, it showed everyone his selfishness and cowardice.
There was a time when my heart swelled with affection for my brother Viserys. I would have moved mountains for him, done anything to earn his favor and respect. But Viserys, blinded by his own weaknesses and insecurities, never returned that love or loyalty. Instead, he surrounded himself with sycophants and flatterers, casting me aside like a worn-out cloak once I no longer served his purposes.
It was only when I claimed the Stepstones, and later, when I held my newborn daughters in my arms, that I came to understand what true rulership meant. I poured my heart and soul into my new domain, earning the love and loyalty of my people in return. They saw in me a leader who truly cared for their well-being, who would not hesitate to fight for their rights and defend their freedoms.
As I watched Viserys allow his own daughter, Rhaenyra, to be mistreated and belittled by the schemers and vipers of the court, I felt a seething anger rise within me. How could he stand idly by while his own flesh and blood suffered? How could he allow her to be cast aside and marginalized, simply because she was not born a son? If anyone dared to treat my daughters with the same callous disregard that Viserys showed towards Rhaenyra, I would unleash the fury of the Fourteen Flames themselves upon them. For a true ruler, a true father, would move heaven and earth to protect their children from harm, no matter the cost.
Viserys may wear the crown, but he lacks the strength and courage to be a king worthy of the title. And if he continues to turn a blind eye to the suffering of his own kin, then I will have no choice but to step in and right the wrongs that he has allowed to fester unchecked.
Then again, that could be my guilt talking. After all I played an important role in Rhaenyra's plight. In my relentless pursuit of a Valyrian bride, I unwittingly groomed my niece into a reflection of my own desires, my own vision of what a wife should be. I pushed her, shaped her, expecting her to fit into the mold I had created for her. When Viserys denied me what I sought, I lashed out in frustration, unleashing my wrath upon those closest to me. And it was Rhaenyra who bore the brunt of my anger, my disappointment. She became collateral damage in my reckless pursuit of my own desires, my own selfish ambitions.
Now, as I reflect upon my actions, I feel a sickening wave of regret washing over me. How could I have been so blind, so callous, as to use my own flesh and blood as a pawn in my schemes? How could I have subjected Rhaenyra to such torment, such anguish, all for the sake of my own desires? It was only after I met Laena, after I fell hopelessly in love with her, that I began to grasp the true depth of my folly. In her gentle embrace, in her unwavering devotion, I found solace and redemption. And in her eyes, I saw reflected the pain and suffering I had inflicted upon Rhaenyra.
My heart aches with remorse for the suffering I caused, for the wounds I inflicted upon my niece's soul. If only I could turn back the hands of time, undo the damage I have done. But alas, the past is immutable, and all I can do now is strive to make amends, to seek forgiveness for the sins of my past. It warmed my heart that despite the trials and tribulations, Rhaenyra had managed to find true love in the arms of her Sworn Shield. Though she cannot wed him, their bond is undeniable, their devotion unwavering.
Watching Rhaenyra with her beloved, I cannot help but feel a swell of pride and joy in my heart. She may not have followed the path the men in her life had laid out for her, but she has forged her own destiny, carved out her own happiness in the face of adversity. And in doing so, she has given House Velaryon a trueborn princess, and the crown two strong princes to be proud of.
I can see the lessons Rhaenyra had learned from Corlys and Rhaenys beginning to bear fruit. She carries herself with a newfound confidence, a regal bearing befitting her station as heir to the throne. She has embraced her role with a sense of purpose, a determination to fulfill her duties to the realm. I am happy for her, truly I am. To see her blossom into the woman she was always meant to be, to witness her growth and maturation, fills me with a sense of fulfillment unlike any other. A sensation I am sure I will not feel until my twins become women themselves.
With this new growth, both Rhaenyra and Laenor had managed to turn the tables on the Greens. The new political landscape filled me with a sense of satisfaction, mingled with a hint of triumph. The balance of power had shifted decisively in favor of the Blacks. Gone were the days when the Greens held sway over the Small Council, their influence diminished to a mere shadow of its former self. Now, only the Master of Laws and the Grand Maester remained loyal to their cause, isolated and outnumbered amidst a sea of opposition.
It was a sight to behold!
Furthermore, the recent birth of Lucerys had dealt a crippling blow to the rumors of bastardy that had plagued my niece for so long. With the legitimacy of her line secured, our enemies had lost their most potent weapon, their whispers silenced by the "undeniable" truth. No longer could they cast doubt upon our rightful claim to the throne. Not that I ever cared about who sire Jacaerys, he was my niece's son and had the blood of the dragon running through his veins. His dragon egg hatched at the cradle, and he is growing to become a perfect heir for Rhaenyra.
But perhaps most gratifying of all was the recent acquisition of the Stormlands into our fold. With the allegiance of that proud region secured, my niece now commanded the loyalty of five of the Seven Kingdoms: the Vale, the Stormlands, the Crownlands, the Stepstones, and the North.
The news of Lord Borros's unexpected decision to name his eldest daughter as his heir sent shockwaves rippling through the court. Here was a man known for his preference for sons over daughters, defying tradition, and convention in a bold and unprecedented move. The audacity of it all was almost comical, a slap in the face to the Andal law that had long governed inheritance in the realm. And yet, with the royal decree firmly in place, there was little room for dissent. The king's word was law, and no amount of protest or debate could change that.
On the other hand, there was a sense of righteous indignation bubbling within me, a simmering anger at what could have happened. I could care less for the kidnapping of Borros's daughters, or the potential danger faced by my nephew Aemond. But for all my reputation as the Rogue Prince, there were few things in this world that could stir my heart like the sight of five beautiful princesses. Lucerys, with her radiant smile and infectious laughter, held a special place in my affections. So much like her mother, yet with mannerisms that reminded me of my fierce wife. The thought of her in danger, of her innocence being threatened by Dorne, filled me with a cold dread that I could scarcely comprehend.
Even Rhaenyra and Alicent found themselves united in shock and disbelief. For once, their animosity was set aside, replaced by a shared sense of urgency and determination to address the crisis at hand. After all it had being their children the ones who had almost suffered the same fate as Borros' daughters. Their combined efforts to rally support and demand action from the king shook the court, who had thought them working together for anything an impossibility.
The events that unfolded in the wake of the Dornish incursion were nothing short of remarkable. For the first time in decades, the realm saw House Targaryen behaving like the true dragons they were meant to be. The response was swift and decisive. Orders were issued to bolster the defenses along the borders between Westeros and Dorne, with troops dispatched to reinforce key strategic positions. The Reach and the Stormlands, long vulnerable to raids from the south, received much-needed assistance in their efforts to safeguard their lands. But perhaps the most striking development of all was the sight of Rhaenyra, Laenor, and Rhaenys patrolling the borderlands on the backs of their dragons. It was a powerful display of House Targaryen's strength and determination, a reminder to our enemies that we were not to be trifled with.
I would have joined them, but Laena and I had enough on our plate with patrolling the Stepstones and keeping the Triarchy out of our waters. Still the unfolding developments filled me with a mixture of amusement and pride. I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over me. Finally, House Targaryen was standing strong against the threats that lurked beyond our borders.
However, after seeing how hard my niece was working to make House Targaryen strong and how Viserys was behaving himself at the moment, it only worked to fill me with more disdain. I could no longer be here to see him make a fool of himself. As I rose from my seat, weariness weighing heavily upon my shoulders, I found myself face to face with Viserys, his expression one of cheerful oblivion. With an effort, I summoned a smile, masking my inner turmoil beneath a veneer of politeness. I normally would not give a shit about it, but the last thing the Stepstones need right now was to suffer from a tension with the crown.
"Where are you off to, brother?" Viserys inquired, his tone light and carefree.
Suppressing a sigh, I offered a flimsy excuse. "My wife is heavily pregnant, Your Majesty. She could not join the festivities, as such I wish to check on Laena." The truth was, I simply could not bear another moment in the stifling atmosphere of the feast hall, surrounded by schemers and fools.
Viserys waved me off with a casual gesture, utterly oblivious to the turmoil roiling within me. As I made my way toward the exit, a bitter scoff escaped my lips. How could he be so blind to the machinations unfolding around him? How could he continue to bask in the illusion of his own contentment, while his kingdom teetered on the brink of chaos? Shaking my head in frustration, I turned away, leaving my oblivious brother behind. It was a futile endeavor, trying to make him understand. Some lessons, it seemed, were destined to be learned the hard way.
The scene that greeted me as I approached our chambers was nothing short of chaos. Maids and midwives hurried in and out, their faces etched with concern, buckets of water and blood in their trembling hands. Panic seized me as I pushed past them, desperate to reach my wife's side.
Inside, the sight that met my eyes was both shocking and surreal. My grandniece, Lucerys, a mere five namedays old, stood tall beside the bed, her small frame exuding an unexpected strength. She spoke with a conviction beyond her years, scolding Laena in the ancient tongue of High Valyrian.
"Skoros zȳhon Āeksio Ono! Kēliot ñuhe lēkia morghagon Andalioti! Jikagon ivestragon pōnte āeksio? Hen rūs dohaerir iōrzi! Ābra jurneskes se ēngos ūndegon iōrzi?" (You are a Targaryen Princess! How dare you act like a weak Andal! You want to die as a dragonrider? For that you need to live as one! What does that grey rat know about the strength of a dragon? You will not die if you fight, you do not need dragonfire!) Lucerys's voice rang out, her words laced with authority. "Laena, nyke daor se ibagon yne sagon. Kepa jemoty, nyke averidātās." (Laena, you are not allowed to die. For your daughter's sake, you must fight. I command it, you must survive.)
My heart clenched as I listened to Lucerys's words, accusing Laena of cowardice, of forsaking her daughters. The accusation cut deep, striking at the core of my being. How could my sweet Lucerys, so young and innocent, utter such harsh truths? Yet, as her words echoed in the chamber, something stirred within Laena. Her eyes, once clouded with fear and pain, now flickered with a newfound resolve. The realization hit me like a thunderbolt - Lucerys's words had ignited a fire within her, propelling her to fight, to defy the odds.
I stood there, rooted to the spot, torn between shock and awe. Before snapping back into action and immediately rushing to Laena's side, my heart pounding in my chest with a mix of fear and determination. Her pale face contrasted sharply against the crimson-stained sheets, and for a moment, I felt a surge of panic threatening to overwhelm me. But I couldn't let fear paralyze me. I had to be strong for her. As I knelt beside her, gripping her hand tightly in mine, I could see the flicker of relief in her eyes at my presence. It was a small comfort amidst the chaos unfolding around us, but it gave me the strength to push forward.
Grand Maester Mellos, with a tone that grated on my nerves, dared to suggest a solution that would save the baby but endanger Laena's life. "I can perform a quick incision," he proposed, his voice tinged with an unsettling calmness, "to extract the child before it's too late."
The grey rat just had to go and offered a solution that would save the baby but risk Laena's life. The same procedure that got Queen Aemma killed! Without a moment's hesitation, I felt a surge of rage boiling within me. How dare he suggest such a thing? How dare anyone threaten the life of my wife and child?
In a swift motion fueled by sheer fury, I drew Dark Sister from its scabbard and swung it with lethal precision, severing Mellos' head from his body in one clean stroke. The gasps of horror from the onlookers fell on deaf ears as I stood over the fallen maester, my heart still racing with adrenaline.
"Find Maester Gerardys," I commanded the trembling maids, my voice firm and unwavering despite the chaos unfolding around us. "Bring him here immediately. He will oversee the delivery."
There was no room for hesitation or error. The fate of my wife and child hung in the balance, and I would not allow anyone else to jeopardize their lives with reckless decisions. In a moment of quiet as we waited for Maester Gerardys, Laena's voice, soft but determined, reached my ears. "Daemon," she murmured, her gaze locking with mine, "Ao ynoma zūgus. Rūskor gīmizīlir." (I love you. Please, take care of our girls.)
My heart clenched at her words, a surge of emotion flooding through me. "Līte hontes, Laena," (I love you too, Laena,) I whispered back, my voice thick with emotion. "Hontes ēdrus. Ēdrus mōrionon. Saomion ne. Zūgus." (You will not die. I will not allow it.)
Her fingers tightened around mine, with a tender smile, she nodded, her trust in me unwavering. I simply hope that it was not misplaced and that I had spoken the truth. The moments stretched agonizingly as we waited for Maester Gerardys to arrive, each passing second amplifying the fear gnawing at my insides. I couldn't bear the thought of losing Laena, not after all we had endured together. The memories of my mother's tragic fate and the heart-wrenching loss of my beloved cousin, Aemma, haunted me like specters in the darkness. I do not believe I could survive her death, that our twins could survive it either.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Maester Gerardys stepped into the room. With steady hands and a calm demeanor, he assumed control of the situation. Relief washed over me as Gerardys took charge of the delivery. Later as I stood there, watching our newborn son Aegon being cradled into Laena's chest, a bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow washed over me. Laena's sobs tore at my heartstrings, but amidst the pain, there was relief. Gerardys' skilled hands had ensured Laena's survival, even if it came at the cost of Aegon's life.
Watching Laena cradle our lifeless son, her sobs echoing in the chamber, I felt a surge of gratitude toward Gerardys, tempered by the weight of his revelation. Despite the heaviness of his words, the knowledge that Laena would never bear another child, I found myself strangely at peace. Two beautiful daughters, Baela and Rhaena, already graced our lives, and I could not bear to risk losing Laena in pursuit of more.
Turning to Gerardys, I thanked him, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me. "We have been blessed with two daughters," I told him, my gaze unwavering. "That is more than enough. Your skill has saved my wife, and for that, I am eternally grateful."
With those words, I turned back to Laena, offering her what comfort I could in the face of our shared grief. Though Aegon's life had been brief, his memory would live on in our hearts.
However, Viserys just had to prove once more that he was the worst kind of kin anyone could ever dream of. As he stormed into the chamber, his fury palpable in the air, I felt a surge of frustration mingled with resignation. His eyes fixed on the lifeless form of Grand Maester Mellos, Viserys seemed oblivious to the scene of grief unfolding before him. Laena's tears, her heartrending sobs as she cradled our stillborn son, went unnoticed as Viserys directed his anger toward me. Once again, my brother's priorities were laid bare for all to see: the trappings of power and the allegiance of his Andal advisors mattered more to him than the well-being of his own family.
Viserys's voice reverberated through the chamber, thick with accusation and blame. "What have you done, Daemon?" he roared, his words slicing through the air like a blade. "You've killed the Grand Maester, murdered him in cold blood!"
His accusations stung, but I refused to back down, meeting his furious gaze with steely resolve. "I did what was necessary," I countered, my voice unwavering. "Mellos was prepared to sacrifice Laena's life for the sake of our son. I could not allow it."
Viserys scoffed, his contempt evident as he shook his head in disbelief. "Necessary?" he spat, his tone dripping with disdain. "You've brought chaos upon us all, Daemon. You're nothing but a menace, a danger to this family and this realm."
"I acted to protect my wife," despite his condemnation, I remained resolute, unwilling to yield to his misguided judgment. "I would do it again, without hesitation."
Viserys's expression twisted into a mask of fury, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of doubt. As he glared at me, his authority challenged, I knew that the divide between us had grown deeper than ever before.
With a dry, cutting remark, I couldn't help but voice my disdain for his indifference. "It seems that butchering a queen was not enough for the grey rat," I retorted, my tone laced with bitterness, "and he wanted a princess too!"
The tension in the room was palpable as Viserys bristled at my words, his expression darkening with barely contained rage. Yet, beneath the anger, there was a hint of something else: a flicker of discomfort, perhaps, at the reminder of his own culpability in Aemma's demise.
Lucerys's sudden appearance between Viserys and myself startled us both, her small frame positioned firmly between us. With wide eyes and a trembling voice, Lucerys spoke. "Stop! Stop shouting!" she pleaded, her voice echoing in the chamber. "We need to calm down. We're family, we shouldn't fight like this."
Viserys, his anger momentarily tempered by Lucerys's intervention, regarded her with surprise. Though his features remained stern, I could detect a hint of softness in his gaze as he listened to her impassioned plea. As the tension in the room began to ease, my gaze lingered on Lucerys, a swell of guilt rising within me. I had all but forgotten she had been in my chambers until now. She had seen the execution of Mellos and the stillbirth of Aegon, no child should ever see that.
With tear-filled eyes, Lucerys turned to Viserys, her voice quivering as she spoke. "I've always wanted a big family like my muña," she confessed, her words carrying the weight of her innocence lost to the harsh realities of the world. "But now... now I'm afraid. I don't want to end up like Laena, to suffer as she did."
Her vulnerability struck a chord within me, her fears mirroring my own doubts and uncertainties. And when she turned to me, her gaze filled with gratitude and unspoken trust, I felt a pang of guilt tug at my heartstrings. Guilt for the violence I had wrought, for the innocence I had shattered in the name of duty and vengeance.
But then, amidst the turmoil of emotions, came her words of gratitude, a balm to soothe the wounds of doubt and regret that plagued my conscience. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "Thank you for stopping him, for sparing others from the same fate."
Viserys' sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. "Lucerys," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret as he gathered his granddaughter into his arms, "you have always possessed a wisdom beyond your years."
Lucerys looked up at her grandfather, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I only want what's best for our family, grandfather," she murmured, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. "And I believe that Gerardys can help us achieve that. He seems to be kind and I am not afraid of his presence, he saved auntie Laena."
With a nod of understanding, Viserys turned his gaze to Gerardys, his expression grave yet contemplative. "Very well," he said, his tone measured. "Gerardys, I offer you the position of Grand Maester. May you serve our family with wisdom and compassion."
I then watched Viserys depart, cradling Lucerys in his arms, and saw Gerardys, the midwives, and maids trailing behind them. I felt a bitter sense of abandonment wash over me. Left alone in the chamber with my sobbing wife and lifeless son, the weight of despair settled heavily upon my shoulders. In that moment, the disappointment that had long been a familiar companion in my dealings with Viserys, was overshadowed by a seething hatred. The bonds of kinship seemed to hold no sway over his callous heart. How could he, my own brother, turn away from us in our hour of need? How could he accuse me, casting blame without a shred of compassion?
The sound of Laena's soft sobs echoed in the chamber, a haunting refrain that served as a poignant reminder of the life we had lost. With a heavy heart, I wrapped my arms around her trembling form, seeking solace in the warmth of our shared embrace. The tears flowed freely now, mingling with the echoes of our shattered dreams as we mourned the son we would never know. In that moment of raw vulnerability, all pretenses fell away, leaving behind only the stark reality of our grief.
In the dreary days that followed, the weight of grief bore down upon me like an anchor, dragging me into a murky abyss of despair. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, a relentless onslaught of sorrow and anguish that threatened to engulf me entirely.
Surprisingly, amidst the turmoil of grief and resentment, the Green Whore Queen, offered her condolences for the loss of our son. Her words, though perhaps tinged with political calculation, were sincere as well. The irony was not lost on me. Here was the so-called Leader of the Greens, was extending sympathy where my own flesh and blood had yet to do so. It was a bitter realization, a stark reminder of the depths of Viserys' callousness.
As I struggled with the conflicting emotions swirling within me, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Our father, Baelon, had instilled in us the values of family, yet here we were, torn apart by petty rivalries and selfish ambition. If only he could see us now, I thought, his disappointment would be immeasurable.
The funeral for Aegon was a solemn affair, Laena, her eyes heavy with grief, emerged briefly from our chambers to bid farewell to our son, her sorrow etched upon every line of her face. But as soon as the last embers from Caraxes' fire extinguished and all that was left of our son was ashes, she retreated once more into the shadows of our chamber. As I watched Laena withdraw further into herself, her spirit broken by the loss of our son, a profound sense of helplessness washed over me. I longed to ease her pain, to banish the shadows that haunted her, but I knew that such wounds could not be healed with mere words or gestures.
For Baela and Rhaena, our dear daughters, the weight of their mother's anguish was a mystery they could not comprehend. They were too young to understand they what truly meant to lose a sibling. Too young to understand that their mother was very close to joining Aegon. At just four namedays old, they were innocent souls untouched by the cruel hand of fate that had befallen our family. They remained in the care of Corlys and Rhaenys, while we tried to heal from this immense loss.
The air in our chambers hung heavy with sorrow, a palpable weight pressing down upon us, suffocating in its intensity. No one dared to breach the threshold, their fear of my Dark Sister holding them at bay. But Lucerys was different, unafraid to confront the grief that engulfed us. As she entered, we greeted her with weary smiles.
With purposeful steps, Lucerys approached the bed, a basket cradled in her arms. Placing the basket beside Laena, Lucerys spoke with a solemnity that belied her tender age. "Aunt, I know I cannot give you Aegon back... but I hope this makes you happy. I just want you to remember that after even the darkest night, morning comes."
With those words, she departed as quietly as she had arrived, leaving us stunned and speechless in her wake. Laena's gasp shattered the silence as she uncovered the precious gift nestled within the folds of the basket—a dragon egg.
Tears welled in Laena's eyes, mingling with the bittersweet emotions that surged within her. Where did Lucerys get this dragon egg from? We did not know, but this could have been the dragon egg of our son. Now it will be the second chance for our youngest daughter to become a dragon rider.
The moment Rhaena laid eyes on the dragon egg, her face lit up with an infectious joy that warmed our weary hearts. Baela, her ever-enthusiastic companion, clung to her sister's side, eagerly sharing in Rhaena's excitement as they dreamed of soaring through the skies together. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated happiness amidst the lingering shadows of our grief.
As dawn broke on the following morning, with bated breath, we watched as cracks spiderwebbed across the surface of the egg, each fracture heralding the imminent arrival of new life. And then, with a gentle crack, the shell split apart, revealing the delicate form of a pink dragon nestled within.
Tears welled in Rhaena's eyes as she cradled the newborn dragon in her arms, her heart overflowing with joy at the sight of her newfound companion. It was a moment of profound significance, the first glimmer of hope in the aftermath of our loss. And as I watched my wife's smile bloom for the first time since we had lost Aegon, a sense of relief washed over me, soothing the ache of our shared sorrow.
"She shall be named Morning," Laena declared, her voice filled with determination and a newfound strength that spoke volumes of her resilience.
"That's a perfect name," I agreed.