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Death would be easier. Painless.
Rhaenyra wished for nothing more than to slip away from the pain of that moment. To witness childbirth was one thing—to experience it herself was a nightmare. The pain, all-encompassing, was like a cramp sent from the deepest pits of hell and she wanted to rip the babe from her womb.
The midwife, Lucinda, attempted to soothe her in a calming, reassuring voice but the only person who could ease her suffering was Daemon. A messenger was sent to Driftmark when her labor started but the babe was coming so quickly. She knew that even on dragonback he would not make it in time.
The thought made her heart sink but she had no time to worry. Instead, she squeezed the old woman’s hand and began to push.
After Baelon’s passing, she knew better than to get her hopes up for a good outcome. The depth of her father's despair after his premature celebration was indescribable. So, after an hour of pushing, her child was born and Rhaenyra held her breath as the seconds passed.
The silence was deafening and grief threatened to overcome her. She couldn't handle losing her child all alone. Not with people from court surely hovering and waiting outside.
A few moments passed before her worry was eased when the small form finally began to cry—loud and fierce. If only Daemon were there to witness such a miracle. She was sure he would have cried. Maybe next time.
Lucinda congratulated her. “A healthy boy, princess,” she said as she placed the baby in the new mother’s arms.
Rhaenyra sighed in relief and smiled down at him.
“My sweet boy,” she cooed.
He was smaller than her other children but he was kicking like a lamb. His face already resembled his fathers and he had a head of white hair to match. He would grow to be a strong prince. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead when the door to her chambers opened.
She had hoped it would be Daemon but she was quickly disappointed when a petite servant girl in a russet colored dress rushed in and curtsied.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, princess, but the queen demands to see the child.”
Rhaenyra froze and stared at the servant as if not hearing her correctly. “Why?”
The girl avoided eye contact, keeping her head down, and meekly replied, “She did not say, princess. Only that he be brought to her at once.”
Her irritation and confusion were replaced by a wave of nausea as she stood and handed her son to Lucinda. The room would not stop spinning so she leaned against the bedpost until she regained her senses.
“Princess, you have just given birth,” the old woman cried.
She replied with a snort, “Really? I had almost forgotten.”
“You must remain in bed to avoid complications.”
Alicent knew what she was doing in demanding to see him and no matter how much her body protested, Rhaenyra would not leave her newborn alone with that woman.
Years ago, Rhaenyra would have trusted Alicent with her life. She would have made her the godmother to her children. But that was a lifetime ago and Alicent was no longer the woman that she once knew. Her prejudices and hatred had shaped her into who she now was and she could not be trusted—for anything good and pure that she touched, withered and died.
Rhaenyra looked to the two servant girls at the edge of the room and said, “Help me dress.”
They began to move but paused as Lucinda started to object. She rolled her eyes and demanded in a tone fit for a princess, “Now. Quickly.”
After hastily putting on a robe and shoes, Rhaenyra walked out of the birthing room with the princeling in her arms. He fell asleep soon after she exited the room. Every step sent waves of pain shuddering through her body, threatening to bring her to her knees. She mustered every ounce of strength that she could manage and hobbled down the corridor with Lucinda at her heels.
Lucinda offered to carry him up the stairwell for her but Rhaenyra knew that she could not appear weak to Alicent or the rest of the members of court. With Daemon away, she couldn't risk any sign of weakness for the sake of her and the babe in her arms.
Shaking her head, she replied, “I will not give her the satisfaction.”
“Take my arm at least, my princess. You will not make it up those stairs without assistance.”
She conceded in that and leaned on the sweet old maid. Despite her age, she was strong and capable. Rhaenyra hoped that she would be as lively as her at such an old age.
Even with Lucinda at her arm, the steps were torturous and never-ending. Her legs shook with the effort it took to climb the stone staircase. Sweat covered every inch of her body and her hair clung to the sides of her face. The crowds parted and stared as she passed but she would not stop.
Once they reached the top of the stairwell, she leaned against the railing, clutching her son to her chest. No breath was deep enough and the dizziness would not go away. If Daemon were there he would have carried her the entire way. He probably wouldn't have let her leave the room in the first place. He would have dealt with Alicent himself.
She closed her eyes and prayed for his fast return. Her safety net. Her peace.
When Rhaenyra once again had her bearings, she turned to Lucinda and whispered, “Has any word arrived from Driftmark?”
Lucinda looked at her with a knowing expression. The child's parentage was no secret to her, Rhaenyra knew. Laenor had passed six months prior but they had never shared a bed. She could never love anyone but Daemon. She refused to even consider it.
“Prince Daemon is already on his way.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Rhaenyra nodded. Perhaps she wouldn't be alone much longer. “Thank you. For everything. Go now, I’ll be alright from here.”
The midwife eyed her warily but said, "As you wish, princess." She gave a slight bow before hurrying back down the steps, likely to help the other maids clean the room.
Finally alone, she shoved her fear deep down, willed the contractions to cease their relentless cramping, and began walking toward Alicent’s chambers. She didn't allow herself to imagine what Alicent might say or do.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
The sun had fully risen by the time Daemon set out on Caraxes. He had been breaking his fast when he received Nyra's messenger in the dining hall at Driftmark. Frantic and excited, he left his few belongings behind as he raced to be with her.
He hoped to be present for the entirety of the birth but it had come earlier than expected. The situation at The Stepstones was urgent and Corlys was relentless in his need to protect the shipping lanes so Daemon was forced to stay longer than he originally anticipated. For Corlys, money would always take precedence. Besides his hunger for power, it was the one thing he despised about his old friend.
Daemon cursed himself for staying away for so long and leaving Nyra alone in her time of need—especially with Alicent prowling the halls of the keep. For a decade she had been looking for any excuse to seat her ridiculous offspring on the Iron Throne. For a decade, he had protected Nyra and Laenor from the consequences of their arrangement. The queen consort would be only too happy to ensure they received the harshest of punishments.
Before departing, Corlys wished him luck and expressed his hopes for a son but Daemon did not care what the sex of the child was. As long as she was healthy, nothing else mattered. Especially nothing as ridiculous as if she birthed a boy or a girl.
Just when he thought his dragon would never make it to King’s Landing, he saw the Red Keep looming on the horizon. It had never been such a welcome sight. The nightmare of his youth—a gilded cage. Everything he had done to remove himself from the vice grip that court had on his life was for naught. No matter what, everything led him back to Nyra.
Caraxes had barely landed outside of the dragon pit when Daemon was throwing himself from the saddle and racing through the gardens to the castle. Against all logic, he hoped he was not too late for the birth—he wanted to hold her hand as she brought their child into the world. If anything went wrong he would never forgive himself for leaving.
Daemon forced his way through the crowds in the street below the Red Keep and made his way to the castle grounds. The guards recognized him and didn't try to stop him as he shoved open the iron gates and the front door.
The groups of nobles in the halls of the keep parted, making room for him as he ran to Nyra's chambers. The dim, stone halls seemed to be never-ending. They may as well have been a maze designed to psychologically torment him. Finally, when he turned the last corner, he spotted an old servant leaving the room, her expression pained.
His heart stopped but he didn’t slow as he demanded, “Where is Rhaenyra?”
The woman startled at the sudden sound of his voice and bowed as deeply as she could with her bent back. “The queen called on her. She wanted to see the child.”
He froze only a few paces from the woman, his head tilting slightly. Rage and guilt toiled in his gut. He was too late and his Nyra was alone with Alicent.
“What do you mean she has called on her? The princess has just given birth.”
Everyone with eyes knew that Alicent held a grudge against Rhaenyra. Their time as friends had ended years ago for reasons only a few people knew the truth of. Daemon was one of those reasons. The tension between the two women grew more taut with every year that passed but he wouldn't trade his relationship for the world. Neither would Nyra. Laenor and her had come to an agreement before they were married. They would choose to love whomever they wanted and they each kept that promise. Laenor found his soulmate, Joffrey, and Rhaenyra found her twin flame to be Daemon. Upon Laenor's passing, he refused to leave her side and they spent every second together until Corlys called for his aid.
The servant kept her head bowed and replied, “Yes, your highness, but I’m afraid that the queen insisted. ”
He huffed a laugh and said dryly, “I’m sure she did."
The two of them stood for a moment in silence. Resisting the urge to scream, he asked, "Is she in the 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯'𝘴 chambers?"
The woman gave a shallow nod and Daemon immediately took off running down the hall, flying up the steps.
It was gratuitous to make a woman leave her bed immediately after childbirth. The danger that Alicent was putting her in made him see red. The sheer nerve to no doubt confirm the parentage of their son was outrageous—just another ridiculous attempt to put Aegon on the throne.
Daemon was still cursing Alicent’s name when he threw open the doors to her chambers. The first thing he saw was Nyra hunched over in a white nightgown and black robe with a small bundle cradled in her arms. The only thing he wanted to do was pick her up and carry her out of that suffocating room. She looked exhausted and as strong as she tried to appear, he knew that she was in more pain than she let on.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his gaze never leaving his lover.
Alicent turned and looked down her nose at him, her lips turning into a smug grin. “I only wanted to meet my grandson.”
The insolence in her tone threatened to drive him to madness—and to find out he had a son from 𝘩𝘦𝘳 and not the mother of his child only worsened it. He moved to Nyra's side, wrapping his arm around her. She leaned into him as he traced idle circles on her waist to try to reassure her. She smelled of blood and sweat and Daemon only became angrier, his jaw clenching with the effort it took to not harm his brother's wife.
Instead of violence, he looked down at Nyra and softly whispered, “Here, give him to me.”
She obliged and carefully handed him their son. He held him in one arm and kept the other around Rhaenyra. He couldn't use his sword on Alicent if his arms were in use.
Keeping a neutral face, he tilted his head to the side and said coolly, “Perhaps if you happen to get pregnant again I will drag you from your birthing bed as well.”
“Be careful, Daemon, when talking to a queen that way,” Alicent said snidely.
Always so eager to remind everyone of her title. It was all she had, after all. Her leech of a father was gone and Larys no longer warmed her bed. Maybe the hag's feet didn't do it for him.
“Queen consort, actually. You are beneath me and you will be treated as such," he said, gritting his teeth. "We’ll be going now.”
He looked down at his son, intending to admire him for just a second, but he quickly realized there would be no passing him for Laenor’s in public. His skin was too pale and nose too similar to Daemon’s own nose. He would only grow more similar as he aged, Daemon was sure.
Alicent must have realized it as well because just as he was about to take Nyra back to his chambers, she said mockingly, “He has his father’s nose. Funny how your Valyrian blood makes you all look so similar.”
To question the parentage of the child of a princess in such an obvious way was treasonous but of course Alicent would take it so far as to ensure the boy belonged to Nyra's dead husband. Daemon would have taken her head if he were allowed. Or if he had nothing to lose.
But he did have something to lose—two beautiful, precious humans. And for Alicent to even suggest such a thing would mean their heads on spikes at the city gates. His head spun with fury at the thought. He retorted, “Funny how your Hightower blood makes you such a cunt. Like father, like daughter I suppose.”
Alicent’s eyes widened in surprise at the remark and her nostrils flared. Before she could respond, he turned and quickly led Nyra out of the room. She was limping and weak so when the doors closed behind them, he handed her their baby and swept them up in his arms.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Rhaenyra's heart raced after what had just happened. Queen consort or no, it was dangerous to speak to her that way. Alicent had powerful allies in court and everyone knew it. Even if Larys no longer shared her bed, he would still protect her. If not for her then for his own gain.
She nuzzled her head into Daemon’s neck as he carried her away from the serpent’s pit. He looked strung out from the flight but he was as handsome as ever. His clothing was the darkest black and red which made his sharp features striking.
His expression when he barged into the room replayed in her mind. He looked so furious and she knew he would have done anything to make sure that her and their son were safe. There was nothing she could possibly do to make him understand how much she appreciated him or how much she cherished his presence. He always made her feel protected and she loved him for it. With every part of her soul, for their souls were one and the same.
The torchlit halls passed by in a blur and Daemon's long, moon-white hair tickled her cheek as he walked. Holding her son a bit closer, she said, "You can put us down if we're too heavy. I can manage walking."
In truth, she couldn't, but thankfully he pursed his lips and shook his head. "No. I've got you."
Nodding slightly, Rhaenyra inhaled his scent. She would never forget it as long as she lived. It was earthy and slightly overpowered by a soap she couldn't place. Lavender, perhaps. Maybe she just couldn't think straight. The burst of energy from her labor was quickly wearing off and weariness settled deep in her bones.
"I don't think I've ever felt so alone in my life than I did this morning. I thought I was going to die," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't do this alone. I know you have your duties but please don't go back."
Daemon's body tensed and he held her a bit tighter, mindful of the infant in her arms. "I will never leave you again. Not even if the gods come to drag me away themselves."
That eased something in her and she relaxed against him. Once they reached the private corridor outside of his chambers she asked, “What shall his name be then?”
He studied her face for a moment and contemplated. Finally, he replied with a crooked smile, "Viserys."
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daemon eased the door open and nudged it closed with his foot once they were inside. His arms burned from carrying their weight for so long but he breathed through it, refusing to rest until he knew that they were both safe.
The room was pretty much bare save for the tapestries hung on the walls, his bed, and large chairs atop the maroon rug near the already lit fireplace. He never cared much for decoration—at least not at the castle. Perhaps if they left King's Landing he would allow himself to finally appreciate his surroundings and put down roots.
“Bed or chair?” he asked quietly.
“Chair,” she breathed.
Crossing the room in a few quick strides, Daemon lightly placed them in the cushioned chair nearest the fireplace. He lowered himself to his knees before Nyra, savoring the warmth of the fire behind him. She finally looked at Daemon and held his gaze, rocking Viserys softly in her arms.
The lavender color of her eyes was warm and inviting. Never cold. Never angry. Not at him. Even after the stress she had just endured, she was so beautiful it hurt. He took her hand in his own and placed a lingering kiss on her palm.
He closed his eyes and he could see their life together. They could raise Viserys away from the calculating eyes of court until it was time for her to take the Iron Throne. It would be a welcome peace for them both, no matter how fleeting, and a healthier environment for their son and future children. It was then that he decided he would take her away to Dragonstone once she recovered from the birth. He wouldn't be surprised if she were fully recovered the next day. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.
"You're the strongest woman I've ever known," he whispered.
She didn't respond and when he opened his eyes, he saw a single tear rolling down her pale cheek, her bottom lip quivering slightly.
"What's the matter, my love?" he asked, brows furrowing. He tucked her hair back behind her ears and lightly cupped her jaw, wiping the tear away with his thumb. If he had the ability to take away her pain he would. He couldn’t bear to watch her suffer—she didn't deserve it.
Nyra remained silent and leaned forward slightly, her gaze on his lips. He met her soft lips with his own and she ran a hand through his hair. They lingered there for a moment, enveloped in comfortable silence with only the crackling of the fire and the quick, soft breathing of Viserys to accompany it. Eventually he broke the kiss to rest his forehead on hers. They held each other's gaze for a long time before Nyra spoke.
“You came," she whispered.
Daemon’s eyes softened as he smiled at her.
“You called.”