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“You will lie in this bed soon enough, Rhaenyra,” her mother told her, tapping her awkwardly with the toe of her swollen foot as she fanned herself, “This discomfort is how we serve the realm.”
Her sweet mother, so beautiful, so good, so full of life— a life that was taken away from her by her father’s selfish whim. She had always seen her parents’ relationship as an example to follow, a wish for what she wanted for herself the day she had to get married, because she was no fool and she knew that, despite all the jokes she made about becoming a knight, she was going to end up joining her life to another man’s. Sometimes she found herself wishing that was a possibility. Anything to not be the one clinging to a delivery chair while another creature left her body.
But not everyone got what they wanted.
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Laenor was a good man, brave and willing, he had found the strength to separate himself from the cold and disfigured body of the man he loved, he got up and stood straight during the ceremony, he let her house cloak be thrown over his shoulders, wiped the blood from his nose and recited his vows before kissing her on the cheek. Rhaenyra could no longer find the boy who had danced and laughed with her hours before, the mischief in his violet eyes was replaced by deep sorrow, and yet he took her hand and called her his wife.
That first night they shed the heavy robes and fell into bed, Rhaenyra tried to approach him to comfort him, but Laenor subtly rejected the contact, curled into a ball and cried himself to sleep. She tried to do the same, however, she did not deserve such consideration; she got up as carefully as possible so as not to wake her husband and set to work.
Rhaenyra wanted to believe in that marriage and wanted the rest to do just the same, she went to the bathtub arranged in her chamber where she emptied some of the wine and this painted the white soap, but it was not enough. She found Laenor’s handkerchief on the floor next to her suit and rubbed it on the sheets, she got hold of her lord husband’s dagger and after tracing a delicate wound on the inner side of her thigh, she let a few drops of blood fall where she had previously rubbed.
Once again, the woman had to bleed for a man.
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“We have royal wombs, you and I. Childbirth is our battleground.”
Rhaenyra felt resentment gnaw at her insides as she watched Alicent gently rub her flat belly. She was expecting another child.
Aegon had four namedays, Helaena three and it was very close to Aemond’s second nameday, the third son she had with her father and she was already pregnant again. Alicent had no a royal womb, she was nothing more than the daughter of an ambitious Hightower rat, she was nobody— and with all that, she had managed to give her father more children in such a short time than her mother ever could in years.
“If the gods bless you and Ser Laenor with a child soon, they can grow up together, like siblings,” she remarked sweetly.
Rhaenyra tasted the venom in every word.
“If the gods are so benevolent,” she managed to say.
She had to make a gigantic effort not to return Helaena to her wet nurse, the weight of a child in her arms made her sick.
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Laenor was ready to try a couple of nights after that comment, it had been a moon since the wedding. It was strange and awkward, it felt wrong, it hurt her soul to see tears leaving her husband’s eyes and even more to discover her own when it just didn’t work.
There was no desire between the two of them, they foolishly thought that their love for each other would be enough, Rhaenyra loved him as her blood and Laenor loved her the same, but again, it was not enough.
They tried as hard as they could those first three moons, they got nothing but awkward movements and it became painful after a while. Laenor cried and apologized each time, and Rhaenyra, through tears, managed to assure him that everything was fine. But nothing was. When she found the strength to let her imagination run wild, her mind would create a little child with honey-colored skin, curly platinum hair and amethyst eyes; a true Valyrian prince to cement her claim to the throne, and she would only come back to reality to face what it truly was: the two of them, naked and miserable, incompetent, unable to perform their duty.
“I can’t take it anymore, I couldn’t take it again,” Laenor mumbled, stuffing himself into the silk robe.
Rhaenyra clenched the sheets into fists, her eyes stinging with tears eager to escape; she wanted to scream that she couldn’t take it anymore, that she was the one sitting naked on her thighs ablaze for the friction, her soul full of humiliation and an empty womb.
But she could not be angry at Laenor, he was not to blame.
“This isn’t working,” she replied instead.
Laenor nodded.
“I think it’s time to look for other— options.”
He stood up and planted a kiss on the crown of her head before leaving the chamber. It was the first night he didn’t sleep with her and Rhaenyra missed him horribly.
She was lonely again.
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Laenor left for Driftmark after a few days, Rhaenyra declined the invitation to accompany him, covering up the bad taste in her mouth left by the matter to be dealt with and the reason why her husband was leaving: something between his dear sister Laena, her uncle Daemon and their wedding, she pleaded her unwillingness to face the silent disappointment on the faces of the lords of High Tide in the absence of an heir.
It was in those days of absence that Rhaenyra noticed more than ever the look on the faces of many members of the court: disdain, disappointment, and a little satisfaction; even the servants dared to whisper behind her back, passing on what she already knew: that she had failed in performing her duty.
How infuriated were they to consider it a success to sit with her legs open to expel an heir even if it endangered her life?
“We have royal wombs, you and I. Childbirth is our battleground.”
Have someone put an armor on her and prepare Syrax, she would gladly enlist in a battle— but if neither Visenya and Rhaenys eluded such an unpleasant fate, what made her think she could?
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Laenor’s return and the emotional welcome he received from Rhaenyra ended up diminishing the rumors surrounding the young couple, the days in the Red Keep became more bearable until they could no longer postpone what they had been pending. In a matter of days, Laenor already had a target in sight, suitable to help them in the situation they were in.
“Not everyone disowns you”, he told her in one of those late-night chats at the end of the first week after his arrival.
According to him, there was one man in the court who did not look at her like the rest. Rhaenyra thought about it for a moment and considered that he might be right. She thought of those blue eyes that showed no disdain, no disappointment and no satisfaction at what she was going through, they did not look at her as if she were a failure. Ser Harwin Strong, with his dark curls, handsome features and a giant’s body could not have been clearer: there was fire in his sapphire orbs when they met hers, as if he let only her know what was going through his mind.
Rhaenyra knew that many men desired the Realm’s Delight , but knowing it was very different from feeling it, and how good it felt to be desired; she remembered the approval and pride in Ser Harwin’s face at the camp set up for the hunt when she returned drenched in blood after finishing off a boar, there was desire in his eyes at that moment and after those years it was still there, unbroken.
“Laenor—”
“There is no other choice, Rhaenyra,” he declared. “We can’t keep hurting ourselves by trying something we already know won’t work.”
“I never wanted children, but I really considered having yours” she confessed after a brief silence, Laenor smiled at her.
“I always wanted to have a family and imagining the one I would have with you made me very happy.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother.”
“Well, there doesn’t have to be a baby yet”.
Rhaenyra arched an eyebrow.
“We lost our smiles on our wedding day, my wife, I had not known pain until that night, but you have felt it for a long time and that is why I want you to smile again”.
“What about you?”
“It’s a matter of taste, you like roast duck and I like goose, the gods and you are witnesses that I’ve tasted it, but—”
“But it’s still greasier for some than for others,” Rhaenyra finished, she remembered perfectly that talk they had on the beach.
“Don’t worry about me, I never imagined there were so many people in King’s Landing who also preferred goose.”
Rhaenyra could do nothing but smile back at him, but there it was, within reach of her eyes: the loss of Joffrey was still burning him, as hot as dragonfire.
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She considered Laenor’s words for a whole week, she imagined her and Harwin Strong in so many situations that she managed to embarrass herself, nevertheless, she desired him and she knew he desired her too— But hadn’t it been her inability to contain the desire that led to the ruin of that fleeting moment she had with Criston Cole? One second he was the perfect knight, the one who swore he would protect her above all else, and the next he had become her enemy from the shadows, blaming her for something they had both agreed to, swearing to Alicent even while wearing the white cloak stained with Joffrey’s blood and her virginity.
She stood in front of the heavy doors of her chamber, Ser Harwin only a few steps behind her, her new protector, how easy it would be—
“Ser Harwin?”
“Princess?”
“How do you feel about blaming someone else for your mistakes?”
“No one can force anyone to do anything, Princess”.
“He’s a grown man, capable of making his own decisions and accepting whatever consequences they bring”.
“Do you really think so?”
“Of course. We all own our actions.”
The longing to feel that man’s full lips on her skin burned.
“Ser Harwin?”
“Princess?”
“Would you do something for me?”
The man didn’t hesitate.
“Anything.”
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They took a ship to Driftmark after only a couple of weeks, Laenor had decided that he would leave again and would not return to King’s Landing until other— matters were settled, not to say that he wished to stay at home as long as possible, he asked Rhaenyra to join him and spend some time with his family. On this occasion she did not think so much about it and followed her husband with her small entourage.
Ser Harwin’s sister, Lady Lyanna, appointed her maid after the wedding, arranged for him to enter her cabin and visit her during the brief voyage. Lyanna asked no questions and pretended she had nothing to say regarding what she saw between her and her brother.
Harwin wasn’t gentle with her, wasn’t gentle at first and she was thankful he wasn’t later. Just like her husband, he was not intimidated by women more powerful than him, but unlike Laenor, he did not treat her as if she were made of glass. He touched her wildly and harshly, he would ignite Rhaenyra with the slightest touch, putting decorum aside and giving himself over to the passion that consumed their bodies, for a man of Riverlands, he enjoyed dragonfire as if he was used to it.
Only once, when she had finished, she had allowed herself to try to compare her experiences with that one she had with Ser Criston— and she stopped instantly. There was no point of comparison, Harwin Strong could not be more different from Criston Cole— and Daemon, not even if he tried; Rhaenyra began to feel a spark inside her as time went by and she understood that she could never be in the arms of another man without thinking of Harwin, not only had she bewitched him, but she fell under the spell too.
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“For gods’ sake. Oranges, really?” Harwin asked, letting a small laugh escape his throat.
“Wait, you’re not going to believe what he said next,” Rhaenyra climbed up to lean back on his abdomen, the bedclothes the only thing covering their naked bodies from the night breeze. “He got really angry and was like: You want me to be your whore?”
Harwin had to cover his mouth to stifle the laughter.
“Seven hells.”
Rhaenyra smiled a little, Harwin thus relaxed was far from the serious, giant knight who followed her everywhere like her shadow.
“And that’s why Ser Criston can’t even look in my direction— much less now that he’s all bitter and Alicent has favored him.”
“What an idiot,” Harwin commented, losing his smile. “You should have come back with me that night, princess.”
“I confess you looked a little intimidating, with the armor and all.”
“You were running around with your uncle, Nyra,” he sat up to take her in his arms, lifting her as easily as if she weighed nothing.
Rhaenyra gasped as the big man straddled her stomach, cupped her face in his large hands and forced her to look up at him. Over time, she had come to find his blue eyes hypnotic.
“Listen to me carefully, Nyra,” he said seriously, “I will be your lover, sworn shield, guard, or your whore if you so choose, and if you get tired of me—”
“Harwin, I would never—”
“And if you get tired of me, I’ll still be yours. I will still follow your every command”.
The warmth of tears running down her cheeks let him know she was crying, but she didn’t move to wipe them away, crying in front of Harwin didn’t feel humiliating.
“Do you mean it?”
“I mean it,” he nodded before kissing her.
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At first, she refused to believe it. They were two moons in Driftmark and she had only had her days of the month once, she waited patiently for the second time to come, and when it didn’t, she told herself she was simply late; she lived in that denial until the end of a second moon without her woman’s bleeding, she refused to believe what her body was screaming at her, and as if that wasn’t enough, the absence of lunar blood was joined by pain in her breasts, a bigger appetite and dizziness every hour of the day.
The creature inside her seemed to rejoice in reclaiming her body.
“Give it back to me, it’s mine,” she whispered one night, pressing her flat belly hard, Harwin sleeping beside her, oblivious to the situation.
She had told no one, she knew she was a horrible person when she forbade Lyanna to say a word about it, even her own body seemed to understand her denial of the new life she was gestating by keeping her state a real secret. She looked for some affection for the creature, but all she found was fear at the prospect of the moment when it would have to leave her.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m not ready,” she continued, “I don’t know if I can love you as you deserve.”
Almost three moons passed when Laenor found her in a bathtub stained red, on this occasion she had not spilled wine into it nor cut her inner thigh to mock the credulity of the rest, it was Harwin’s seed that could not germinate in her body; her husband carefully lifted her up, made her get out of the tub and covered her with the woolen robe, pressing her to it as if he could protect her from everything.
“I felt cramps all morning,” she muttered. “I thought— I don’t know.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be, because I’m not sorry at all.”
Laenor pressed a kiss to her damp forehead.
“I’m sorry for you, for not noticing it sooner.”
He had her lie down on the bed in one of the rooms in the wing they shared at Driftmark and went out for a few minutes, returned with the maester whose hands carried a cup of tea and instructed her to drink it into the bathtub filled with clean water. Lyanna hurried to prepare the bath and was quickly dispatched by Laenor, who asked her protector, Ser Harwin, to look after her while he went to announce the sad news to his lord parents.
Harwin said nothing as he entered the room, merely sitting in a chair beside the tub and taking her hands in his as what was left of the creature they made together left her body forever.
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They returned to King’s Landing a week later, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys bidding her farewell with a kiss on the cheek, a hug and affectionate words. She was grateful that they did not show her condescendence.
Rhaenyra received Harwin in her bed as soon as one moon had passed since what had happened, another one later and when she woke up one morning — hours after her protector had left her chamber so as not to raise suspicions — she knew instantly, her body felt alien again, taken, and she closed her eyes.
Again she had not wanted to believe it even when the moonblood did not appear.
The maester confirmed it to her past another moon, when she allowed herself to tell, first to Harwin and then to Laenor, when she had already prayed that the new creature in her womb would cease, when she had already apologized for not loving it— and as quickly as Gerardys confirmed to her that, indeed and as if she did not know it, she was pregnant, he extended that same tea they gave her in Driftmark and confirmed that it no longer existed.
Her father kissed her on the head, he was familiar with that kind of pain and knew that sometimes not saying anything was the best thing to do, Alicent just walked around with the little bundle in her arms that she didn’t often hold, Laenor sat with her for a moment before yielding the seat to Harwin.
“I didn’t want it,” she confessed, leaving the tub to lie on the bed. “The creature, and I didn’t want the other one either.”
Harwin’s arms around her didn’t tighten or anything like that, instead, they squeezed her gently and he planted a kiss in her silver hair.
“I know.”
“I thought I’d feel happy when it was gone, now I’m not sure how I feel.”
That pregnancy passed so quickly that she had no time to search in her heart some affection for the child, fear and relief were accompanied by a new feeling: guilt.
“You have the right to feel as you wish, Rhaenyra.”
“I’m scared to die like my mother, I’m scared to think that they will have to cut me open to take out a baby that will only survive me for a few hours. I can’t even imagine the moment of delivery without cringing.”
Harwin turned her around, grabbed her chin with his hand and forced her to look at him.
“You’re not going to die, Rhaenyra, you’re—”
“Of the dragon’s blood? So was my mother.”
“You’re the dragon, Nyra, I’d bet everything on you.”
“I’m afraid to be like my mother, too,” she murmured, ashamed. “I love her with all my heart and miss her dearly, but I’m terrified to be like her.”
“You’re the dragon, Nyra.”
But even dragons laid eggs.
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Princess Rhaenys visited her in her chambers as soon as Laenor let them know what had happened, her aunt extended her a cup of wine and sat down beside her.
“I lost one before Laenor and one after Laena,” she said, cutting through the silence that hung over them. Rhaenyra turned to look at her. “We never said anything about the second one we lost, I had enough to hear them call me ‘The queen that never was’ , I didn’t want to give them the chance to say that, besides not being able to keep a throne, I couldn’t get pregnant either.”
“It’s a punishment, I think.”
“Why would the gods punish you, child?”
Rhaenyra knew her sins very well.
“I took an oath as a knight of the King’s Guard, an oath of chastity, and I have broken it.”
“I won't tell anyone…”
“I defiled my white cloak. It's the only thing I have besides my fucking name!”
“Ser Criston—”
“You disgraced me.”
“For everything and for nothing,” she replied instead. “Mostly for not loving them enough, or not loving them at all.”
Rhaenys smiled a little.
“Some of us love them since we know they’re coming and others take a little while, you grew up watching your mother lose them, you’re not guilty for refusing to love something that could be gone at any moment.”
“I will love it,” she promised, “no matter how long it takes me, if the gods bless Laenor and me with another child in my womb, I will love it.”
Rhaenys squeezed her hand affectionately.
“Pressure is unnecessary and unhelpful.”
The first year of their marriage came to an end childless.
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It was a matter of two moons before Harwin planted his seed in her again. Laenor found her in front of the mirror scratching her belly, tears were falling from her violet eyes, she had left the bathtub as soon as she knew. She remembered the promise she had made, but had not expected the time to fulfill it to come so soon.
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking at him through the mirror, “we were very careful, we—”
Laenor began to cry too.
“It’s our last chance,” she declared, “I can’t bear to lose another one.”
Her husband squeezed her in an embrace, clinging her wet, naked body to his clothes.
“The gods have not forsaken us”
“I’m going to love it, I don’t know how long it will take, but by the time it’s born, I’ll be crazy for him or her.”
“So will I,” Laenor declared. “In the eyes of gods and men I will claim it as my own, and I swear I will love it as if it were mine.”
“It is, Laenor, it can be no one else’s.”
She told Harwin that very night, the big man smiled at her as he kissed her, but remained serious until seeing her so determined with that third pregnancy brought him out of his shell.
“The maester confirmed it this morning, he recommended we not announce it yet.”
“Why not?”
“He said it is very common that some do not survive the third moon, I already lost two in an interval of that gestation time,” she explained; “he also said that it is safer when you enter the fourth moon, Laenor and I have decided that we will wait.”
Harwin nodded.
“Laenor spoke to me after the maester left,” she continued. “He’s aware that it didn’t work no matter how hard we tried, and he understands that this is the only way, but he feels guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“For taking what you did and claiming it as his own.”
The man smiled a little, there was a hint of sadness gracing his handsome face.
“I knew how it would be from the beginning, all three of us knew.”
“But still—”
“Don’t think about it, Nyra.”
Rhaenyra pressed their foreheads together.
“He wants you to be a part of its life, to help raise it, and I want that too.”
A baby of the three of them, raised by the three of them. It was not a conventional situation, rather insolent in anyone’s eyes, but insolence seemed to run strong in their little family.
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It was at the beginning of the fourth moon when her father finally figured it out. He had asked her to have dinner with him, just the two of them, a little father-daughter quality time so she wouldn’t feel abandoned— it didn’t work the way he thought it did.
“You look different, my dear.”
“I am a wife now.”
Viserys laughed.
“I didn’t mean it like that, you got married a year ago, but to this day you look like someone else.”
“Maybe there is something different, I am not the same Rhaenyra,” she answered.
What did the old Rhaenyra know about having a full womb one second, and an empty one the next? Nothing, she knew nothing. The new Rhaenyra fought against her fears for her own sake and for the sake of the creature that lived in her body.
“You and Laenor look very close.”
“We are.”
“Is he a good husband? Does he treat you well?”
“Laenor is the best husband I could have chosen,” she declared, and she was not lying.
Viserys nodded, clearly satisfied with the honesty of her answer; Rhaenyra did not ask him about his wife or his other children, she was not interested in hearing about baby Daeron, she would have a baby of her own in a matter of a few moons; instead they spoke of royal matters, how she was preparing for the day she ascended the throne and she told him about her intention to travel to Driftmark with Laenor in the coming weeks.
“Driftmark? Again?”
“It seems important to me— to strengthen ties with my husband’s family.”
“And how long do you plan to stay there?” he asked after a moment, the maid arrived with a tray full of pork, which she placed in the middle of the table.
“Last time it was only three moons, this time we want to stay longer.”
She wanted to give birth in Driftmark. While it was very close to King’s Landing, she also felt it was far enough away to put distance between her and the ghosts of the Red Keep. Her mother’s screams and her stillborn babies would not be able to reach her at High Tide.
Then the maid put some of the pork on her plate. The smell traveled up her nose to be perceived as the most disgusting thing in the world and Rhaenyra covered her mouth at the first retch that invaded her, giving her the creeps.
This pregnancy was not being easy, unlike the first two, nausea assaulted her as soon as she woke up and most of the time it lasted all day, hollow cheeks betrayed the weight she was losing when she was supposed to gain it, the only ones growing were her breasts, filling out, getting ready to fulfill their function in due time. Despite all that, Rhaenyra remained strong, not once did she pray for the pregnancy to end, and though she felt no affection for the creature, she didn’t hate it either.
She wondered when she would recognize it was a baby.
“My darling?”
“I’m fine— it’s just—” another retch prevented her from finishing and when the third threatened to escape, the princess ran to the balcony to free herself.
Viserys got up to go after her.
“Rhaenyra, my love, sit down,” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders protectively and guided her to a chair. “Call the maester!”
Rhaenyra shook her head and took him by the hand to stop him.
“I’m fine, father,” she repeated, “It’s like this every day at every hour, I’m surprised it took them so long to assault me today.”
“And you say you’re fine? It’s very irresponsible of you to—” he was suddenly silent, his purple eyes meeting hers, and he gasped in surprise at the realization. “Rhaenyra.”
“I am with child, father.”
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To say Viserys was angry to discover that he had been kept in the dark all this time was an understatement. The king was incredulous at his daughter’s condition and only believed it after Maester Gerardys assured him of the princess’ pregnancy.
“Here, father,” Rhaenyra guided the king’s hand to her slightly bulging belly well hidden by the dress, Viserys felt it hard under his palm.
Alicent was present during the announcement in the council chamber, her face was a little slow to hide the displeasure she felt at the news, Rhaenyra’s pregnancy had ended up uniting her with her father in an irrevocable way. Viserys already favored a grandchild who did not even show its presence in its mother’s womb.
“You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child,” Viserys declared, looking into her eyes.
Alicent left the meeting room with baby Daeron in her arms, already invisible to Viserys.
They left to Driftmark before the evil wishes of all those green serpents that populated the Red Keep fell on her.
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She began to think and call the creature a baby once she accepted that its birth would be a fact.
The baby was calm at night and kicked frequently during the day, especially when riding Syrax or when she talked for long periods of time.
“I can’t say a word because it goes crazy,” she said to Maester Gerardys in the course of her routine checkup, “like just now.”
Laenor ventured a hand to her slightly bulging belly after she allowed it with a glance, the same amazed smile as always formed on her husband’s mouth.
“Is it possible?”
“Of course, many babies love the sound of their mothers’ voices,” the maester nodded. “It is always a sign that they are happy babies.”
Rhaenyra thought for a moment that it was silly how could it be happy if it hadn’t arrived in that world yet. A moment later it made sense: it wasn’t so silly to think the baby was happy, it just woke up, kicked her, made her hungry by the bucketload and thank the gods the nausea was gone by the time she reached Driftmark; the only work it had to do in its short life would be to find its way to reality leaving her broken and bleeding body behind. Guilt washed over her as soon as she finished the thought.
“And how can you not be happy?” Laenor said, lowering himself to her belly. “You don’t know how much we love you.”
Rhaenyra pressed her lips together before smiling a little, she was no longer trying hard not to love it because she found it impossible, she thought of how he or she would look, of the sounds it would make and a warm feeling tightened her chest, was this what love for a child felt like?
“The first of the Velaryon and Targaryen grandchildren, it will be a very spoiled baby,” Gerardys agreed as Rhaenyra ran her fingers through Laenor’s hair.
“You know something, Maester? The baby freaks out at my voice, but calms down when its father touches it,” her amethyst orbs wandered to the closed doors of the chamber, where behind them stood Harwin standing guard.
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“How do you think it looks?
Rhaenyra turned to look at Harwin, he looked so attractive lying there on the bed with the sheets covering his naked body, pregnancy had not only increased her appetite for food, but also her carnal appetite. It had been in those months that she had wanted this man more than ever.
“The baby. What do you think it looks like?”
“Like a dragon,” she replied with a wink, Harwin smiled and reached out a hand for her to join him.
Rhaenyra stood up without much effort, for an almost six moons old woman, her belly was small and perfectly round, adorned with small marks on the bottom. It didn’t weigh too much; Harwin took it in both hands, planted a kiss on its bulging navel and pressed his forehead to it. The baby stilled at the first touch.
“You manage to calm it down,” Rhaenyra mumbled, stroking his curly brown hair. “It kicked me so hard today I thought it was going to break a few ribs.”
“It is strong.”
“Like its father. Maybe it’s a big, strong little—”
“Every day I pray to the gods that it’s a girl,” he confessed, interrupting her, Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched.
“Really?”
Harwin looked up, his blue eyes brimming with longing.
“Even when we lost those first two, I always thought of them as girls,” he murmured without looking away. “I’ve prayed ever since that it would be so with this one, a girl as beautiful as you.”
“A daughter? Really?”
It was incredible to her, all men she had known wished for sons to carry their names for hundreds more generations— but Harwin was not like all men, she should know better by now.
“Imagine it for a moment, with your hair, straight and silver, amethyst eyes, the shape of your face,” he kissed her belly once more. “How beautiful she would be.”
For a moment, Rhaenyra could see that little girl in her arms, but the curly brown replaced the straight silver and a pang of that same longing that washed over Harwin’s eyes assailed her.
“Yes, very precious.”
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The scent of salt in the wind cleansed her lungs in such a soothing way that Rhaenyra wished she could jump overboard and fill herself fully with it. In addition to Harwin and Laenor’s touch, ship rides managed to soothe the little dragon she shared her body with.
“What if it was born on a boat?” she proposed, half joking. “The baby loves these rides as much as the ones I used to give it when I rode Syrax .”
“Of course it loves them, it’s quite a seahorse,” Lord Corlys said, standing beside her and Laenor on the gunwale. “A true Velaryon.”
Rhaenys took her husband by the arm.
“It may yet be a girl, husband.”
“That’s the least of it,” he downplayed it with a wave of his hand. “What really matters is that it has salt in its veins, and it shows it now.”
For the first time in her seven moons of pregnancy, Rhaenyra worried about the baby. Would they reject it because of how it would look? Would they treat it badly? Would they use the rumors that would surely spread in court against him or her? She put a protective hand on her belly instantly, it was safe in there, but what would happen when it came out? She was going to defend it, she would not let anyone hurt her baby.
She decided she would feed Syrax or Seasmoke to anyone who dared harm her child.
____________________________
“Do you think it looks like Ser Harwin?” her husband asked as soon as the doors closed behind Maester Gerardys and Lyanna.
Laenor stroked the bars of the crib they had set up in their chambers, two beautiful blankets exquisitely embroidered with the emblems of their houses rested on it. Rhaenyra frowned at his question.
“What do you mean?”
“Boys are more like their fathers.”
“That’s not true, besides, we still don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl.”
“The maester says that the chances of it being a boy are very high.”
“The maester based it on the shape of my belly, and refuting your hypothesis, I look a lot like my father.”
Laenor smiled.
“Believe me, you are your mother’s twin, Rhaenyra.”
Her heart squeezed. Perhaps that she looked like his late queen was his father’s comfort and distress; at first it had not bothered her to remind him of what he did to her mother by her mere presence, but then the burden on her shoulders felt too heavy and the guilt that filled Viserys’ face when he saw her was unbearable to Rhaenyra.
“Well, you look a lot like your mother too,” she replied, “you didn’t inherit her Baratheon hair, but there is still more of her in you than your lord father’s.”
Laenor’s smile widened.
“That’s another matter.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s silly, I shouldn’t be burdening you with it.”
Rhaenyra took his hands in hers.
“You do not burden me, in fact, I am quite happy for us to talk about this.”
“Your mother was an Arryn of Vale, and mine is a Baratheon, we can use that to our advantage if the baby comes into this world with lustrous curly brown hair.”
“How clever.”
“Besides, I’m mixed,” he added. “The baby will clearly turn out very pale,” Rhaenyra pinched him, “then we’ll say he’s more caucasian than I am, and that’s the end of the story.”
“You’ve already thought of all this, I see.”
“My beautiful wife takes care of the heavy stuff,” he patted her swollen belly, “it’s my duty to take care of the loose ends.”
Someone knocked on the doors, Laenor went to open them, giving way to Ser Harwin, who with the help of another guard carried the heavy iron brazier containing the baby’s egg.
“Here it is, Ser Laenor,” Harwin said, depositing the brazier by the chimney. “The egg you chose for the baby.”
Rhaenyra caught Harwin’s eyes as he passed the egg to Laenor, letting him be the one to choose had made him very happy.
“What do you think, my love?”
Rhaenyra took a look at the egg, the shell glowed a dark green combined with red.
“It’s perfect.”
____________________________
Harwin looked with confusion at the scroll Rhaenyra held out to him as she lay down beside him.
“What is this?
“The last seven moons I was so busy carrying your child inside me—”
“The child may yet be a daughter—”
“— that I completely forgot to think of what to name it, so Laenor was kind enough to write down all these ancient Velaryon names, we just have to pick one.”
Harwin furrowed his bushy eyebrows.
“There are only names for boys here, Nyra?”
“I didn’t accept the list of girl names.”
“And why not?”
“Because I already have a name, and there is no power in the realm that would make me change my mind.”
Her protector looked at her carefully, totally interested.
“Really? What is it?”
“In case it’s a girl, and since for obvious reasons we can’t use your mother’s name, I think Aemma would suit her perfectly.”
Harwin kissed her as she finished speaking.
“Does that mean you like the name?”
“You already said it, Aemma is more than perfect.”
Aemma. Her mother’s name replayed in her head over and over again. It must have been a breakthrough, she told herself, she no longer thought so much about the moment she might die in childbirth, no longer felt that talking about Aemma out loud was a curse.
“I chose Aemma, and since you already chose the egg, you also get to choose the other name.”
Breakbones spent a long time reading and rereading the names written on the scroll until he finally stopped.
“I think I found the right one.”
Rhaenyra, who was already half asleep, woke up to give him all the attention she could.
“I hear you.”
Harwin crawled over until he was close to Rhaenyra’s belly covered with the nightgown.
“If you are a boy, would you like to be called Jacaerys?”
As the only answer, the baby kicked inside her.
____________________________
During the two moons left before the end of her pregnancy, she could do little more than waddle around the halls of Driftmark, take a ship ride, or just lie in a bathtub full of hot water until sleep assaulted her.
“Gods, I’m huge,” she commented as Lyanna helped her out of the tub.
“Not as much as many other women, Princess,” her maid replied and Rhaenyra smiled. “All pregnant women glow, but you do it on another level.”
Having her by her side, her lover’s sister, made her days less dull; Lyanna talked to her, made her laugh and was not reluctant to play along, but she could also be very stubborn, would not leave her alone until she ate what she had to eat, always insisted she rest and was almost as annoying as Harwin and Laenor when it came to the care she required.
“Do you really mean it?” maybe she did, after all, it was her brother’s child she was carrying in her womb.
“You know me, princess, I am always truthful,” she answered as she dried her very well and after stuffing her into a nightgown, she made her sit in front of the dressing table and began brushing her hair. “Do you think it will be long before the baby arrives?”
“Master Gerardys says not to be surprised if one of these days I wake up and this little dragon greets me.”
Lyanna laughed softly, left the brush on the dressing table and Rhaenyra leaned on her to stand up, they walked to the bed where the princess slowly lay down once the maiden had arranged the fluffy pillows in such a way that it looked like she was going to sit and not sleep.
“The gods know I wish it would get out, we don’t fit in this body anymore,” she said, catching her breath. “We’re too cramped.”
The Strong girl just smiled sweetly at her, made a delicate bow and left the chamber; Rhaenyra closed her eyes and waited: like most nights since they had arrived at High Tide, Lyanna was in charge of distracting the guard who guarded the entrance to the chamber during the night, it didn’t take long, just enough time for Harwin to enter. Laenor slept in one of the other rooms in the wing or with that new man he had met not long ago. Harwin made his appearance soon after, they spent time cuddling, he asked how she was feeling and kept kissing her and her swollen belly.
“Daddy is dying to meet you,” he said between kisses. “Whatever you are, I will always love you, I have since I knew you were coming and I will do so until the end of my days.”
Like most nights she was not able to fall asleep right away, she saw Harwin slumped over, his head full of curls tightly against her belly and a large arm wrapped protectively around her; she felt content being with him, their bond had grown stronger since that first failed pregnancy and although she knew how much he wished he could express how happy he was for that baby, he didn’t because it was clear to him how difficult it was for her.
“You once asked me why I prefer night to day, I lied when I told you that I love beautiful moons,” she whispered, combing his brown hair with her fingers. “But how could I tell you the truth when it’s already so difficult for both of us? I like the night better because it allows me to be as selfish as I want to be.”
Rhaenyra closed her eyes, listening to Harwin’s rhythmic breathing gave her the peace she sometimes couldn’t find.
“At night, when the world is asleep, we can pretend that I am not the princess and you are not my sworn shield, we can pretend that when morning comes you will wake up with a smile and ask me how I and the child we have created together are doing— but instead, when the night ends and the sun rises and I open my eyes, you are already gone.”
Her eyes burned, damned pregnancy and the avalanche of emotions it unleashed in her.
“I didn’t love it from the moment I knew it was coming” she didn’t feel it as a confession because he already knew, but rather as the statement she had to make, “and neither did the others, not how you have, but I have tried so hard to do it so— it helps a lot that you are its father, a part of you mixed with a part of me is wonderful and to know that I am creating it is— incredible.”
She imagined again a baby with curly brown hair, blue eyes, with the same features as Harwin or maybe just the Targaryen nose, but mostly that it would be like its father, of good feelings and void of cruel ambitions. Such perfection.
“Don’t let me die, please” she suddenly asked, her jaw began to tremble, it was the announcement that tears would come at any moment. “We will have another, many more, but don’t let me die, not like this.”
The inevitable happened, she cried a little, making the burden on her chest feel lighter, and finally she could sleep.
____________________________
The day of the delivery arrived, and although she was expecting it, Rhaenyra was surprised to be aware of the short time that separated her from meeting the baby she was carrying inside, the one she had kept safe in her body, the one she imagined resembling Harwin. She was with Lyanna taking her routine walk, choosing the Hall of Nine for that day, when she felt a prick of pain in her lower back, she attributed it to the tiredness of the last days and decided to ignore it, the second prick went directly to her lower belly like when she had her moon’s blood, and it was the third occasion when a cold fear covered her from head to toe and she had to lean on Harwin’s sister that she decided to accept what was happening.
“Princess—?”
“It’s the baby, Lyanna,” she said, squeezing her hand tightly.
Harwin, standing in the doorway of the hall, was beside them the second he noticed the way Rhaenyra held her belly.
“Princess—”
Lyanna looked at her brother with equal parts concern and anticipation.
“It’s the baby, it’s coming.”
“I have to go to my chambers,” Rhaenyra hissed as soon as another wave of pain left her.
“Can you walk?”
She would walk, even if she could not, rather die than allow anyone to see her in such a precarious condition. She nodded.
“I can.”
The Strong siblings led her to her chamber, and those who saw them in the corridors were quick to spread the news: labor had begun and the baby would soon arrive; she had barely demanded Laenor’s presence when he appeared with his lord parents, Maester Gerardys and an army of midwives.
The maester dispatched the lords of Driftmark, Laenor instructed Ser Harwin to stay at the door, inside the room, while another guard stood outside, Lyanna helped her out of her dress, leaving the white nightgown to cover her and went to prepare a tub of hot water so she could get into it.
“It is for you to find some comfort at this time,” Gerardys replied to the unspoken question in her eyes when they suggested the bath.
“How long are we going to be here?” Rhaenyra asked as Laenor and Lyanna put her in the tub.
The hot water managed to soothe the pain just a little.
“Labor can last a few hours or days, your highness,” one of the midwives gave her a rueful look.
She spent the first few hours in and out of the tub, the water being replaced again and again, she paced around the room and from time to time held Laenor or Lyanna tightly, whichever of the two was so unfortunate, her gaze clashed with Harwin’s on many occasions, a shadow of worry mixed with pride tarnished his blue eyes. He did not move from his place at any time.
“If something goes wrong, do not let us die,” she instructed Laenor in one of those moments when Lyanna was going to get more hot water, “your child and I need you, but if it is very necessary for you to choose, save me.”
Laenor kissed her hand.
“Don’t worry about that, everything will be alright.”
“Laenor.”
Her husband sighed, he looked scared too.
“You don’t even have to ask, Rhaenyra, I promise.”
The moment she feared the most arrived: when the dawn began, the maester informed her that it was time to push. Lyanna gathered her hair that stuck to her sweaty skin, helped her to the bed and let her lie on it at her own pace; at the moment that one of the midwives made her open her legs, it was impossible for her not to think about her mother and also about Alicent.
She remembered the late queen hissing through her rooms, moaning too low, so used to the pain of childbirth that it was sad.
“They said it already started,” Rhaenyra approached her mother, hesitantly.
Sweat covered Aemma’s body, who walked, leaning against the stone walls.
“Since a few hours ago, yes,” she nodded, pausing for her daughter to catch up.
“How are you feeling, does it hurt too much?”
“It hurts what it has to hurt, Rhaenyra, it’s the price we pay for being mothers— it doesn’t seem like it, but having a child is the most precious thing.”
“How can it be that precious when it hurts so much?”
“Well, you can’t expect to get the most precious treasure of your life without giving anything in return, don’t you think so—?”
Rhaenyra averted her gaze as soon as Aemma’s face contracted for the pain, however, her mother managed to pull her into an embrace and crush repeated kisses on her perfectly coiffed hair.
“Go on, go enjoy the tournament, maybe you’ll have a sibling when it’s over.”
“I’ll stay with you—”
“Men serve the realm in battles and we serve it with this discomfort, childbirth is our own battlefield remember?” Rhaenyra nodded. “I’m fighting right now, and only I can save myself.”
“Mom—”
“I’ll be fine, love, I promise.”
But she wasn't, she broke her promise. She lost even though she fought as best as she could.
“Very well, princess, when I tell you to, you have to push, alright?”
Rhaenyra looked at the maester as if she had forgotten where she was, the man repeated his words and she nodded, Laenor and Lyanna stood beside her as the midwives surrounded her, Harwin stood rigid in the doorway, his blue eyes never leaving her, the warmth of her husband’s hand in hers instilled her with security. She was not like her mother, she could do it.
“Now, princess.”
The pain was inexplicable, blinding and searing, Alicent’s screams the day she gave birth to Aegon deafened her ears, dulling the conciliatory and useless words Laenor whispered to her.
Alicent holding onto the canopies of the bed in her chambers was the first thing she saw when she entered, according to one of the maids, she had cried out for her. The green eyes of her father’s new wife gleamed with relief as soon as she noticed her presence.
“Rhaenyra, come, please!” when she didn’t come closer at first, Alicent made an attempt to going to her, but her plan failed when a wave of pain forced her to lean against the bed. Rhaenyra snapped out of her stupor and went to meet her.
“Gods, Alicent.”
“Don’t leave me, please!” her sweaty hand gripped hers tightly. “Stay with me!”
“I don’t know if they’ll let me stay—”
“They won’t be able to get you out of here” she hissed, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks. “The princess stays with me!”
Rhaenyra felt a wave of guilt at the sight of the despair of the one she once considered her soulmate, perhaps she had been too harsh when, while helping her get ready for her wedding feast, she warned Alicent that her father didn’t care if she lived or died giving birth.
“[If he could do this to my mother, who was the love of his life, you shouldn’t put so much trust in him].”
“Let’s get you to lie down,” Rhaenyra put an arm around her shoulders and helped her onto the bed, sat beside her and held her for the remainder of the labor, in which Viserys shined by his absence.”
Aegon’s cry was all it took to loosen her.
“Come on, again, princess.”
“That’s it, love, you’re doing very well—”
“Lyanna, if my husband says anything stupid again, do me a favor and hit him,” she indicated laboriously, the people present let out a small laugh.
She obeyed the instructions of the maester and the midwives as best she could, she clung to Laenor’s hand and after screams, sweat, tears and pushing what she had to push, the cry of a newborn cut the silence that followed the last whimper Rhaenyra let out between her teeth, the tranquility of dawn was interrupted by the roar of the little dragon that announced its arrival to the world.
A couple of tears escaped Ser Harwin’s eyes.
“A boy, princess,” announced the maester, the smile in his voice. “A strong, healthy and beautiful son, Ser Laenor.”
“Praise the mother,” said one of the midwives.
The older midwife took the baby from Gerardys’ hands to wrap him in a blanket and spread him out to Rhaenyra, whose arms shook until the weight of her child in them made them firm. The baby stirred for a moment before whimpering and lying still as Rhaenyra’s purple eyes studied him: still covered in the fluids of childbirth he looked so beautiful. Her little boy. Her baby. Her lips began to tremble and tears of joy streamed down her cheeks.
“Hello, Jace,” she murmured against his platinum fuzzy head.
Lyanna stepped back to give them some privacy as Laenor planted a couple of kisses on Rhaenyra’s sweat-peaked forehead before turning his attention back to the baby boy.
“How beautiful he is, Rhaenyra,” Laenor watched him, totally captivated.
“We need the prince for a moment, princess,” the midwife stepped forward and then stepped back as Rhaenyra slowly took her eyes off the baby.
“Why?” she demanded to know, pressing him to her chest.
“We need to clean him up and finish helping you recover.”
Laenor nodded, urging her to let them take the baby to the part of the room where they had everything ready to groom Jacaerys; her husband followed the midwives, leaving her to the care of the rest and Lyanna. They carried her to the tub once the placenta was out of her body, washed her and stuffed her into a clean nightgown, Lyanna had her lie down on the bed whose sheets had been replaced and then Laenor returned to her side with Jacaerys in his arms.
“If you could give us a little privacy, we would be most grateful,” Laenor said to all present.
Gerardys followed them after leaving some milk of the poppy in case Rhaenyra decided to drink it, Lyanna congratulated them once more and left. Laenor waited until there was no one else left in the room before he could approach Ser Harwin, who had stood very still by the door.
“Would you like to hold Jacaerys?”
Harwin received him after following Laenor’s instructions, who had also looked a little frightened when holding him the first time, nothing had ever seemed so fragile to him and he felt afraid of breaking him, but he managed to hold him firmly, letting him know that he was safe in his father’s arms.
“I am going to abuse your good will and ask you to stay with my wife and the baby while I go to communicate the good news to my parents,” Laenor announced, turned to Rhaenyra and kissed her again on the cheek. “You did magnificent, really.”
He gave them a last look and left them alone. Harwin sat on the edge of the bed next to Rhaenyra.
“How do you feel?” even though they were alone, his voice came out as loud as a whisper.
“Exhausted, but I’m fine,” she said, accepting the hand Harwin extended in her direction, holding Jacaerys with one arm.
“I always knew you could handle anything, Nyra, I’m so proud.”
Rhaenyra smiled as soon as Harwin’s lips pressed against hers for a moment before planting several kisses across her face.
“Thank you,” he murmured, turning his attention back to Jacaerys. “He’s— perfect, I never thought I’d be able to create something so small and beautiful.”
“I can’t agree about the small part, considering he didn’t feel small,” she tried to joke, but she accepted that, in his father’s giant arms, Jace looked so tiny and fragile.
Harwin laughed softly, Rhaenyra allowed the tears she held back to fall as she noticed that her lover was crying too; the blue eyes of the man she loved were focused on the baby overflowing with an adoration she had never seen in them until that moment.
“Jacaerys. Jace,” Harwin murmured, his lips pressed to the little boy’s head. “My little dragon, you don’t know how much I love you,” he looked at her. “Both of you.”
Rhaenyra waited patiently for Harwin to return him, the emptiness filled the instant the warmth of her son’s little body made contact with hers, everything she had to go through during her pregnancy seemed nothing to her as soon as she could see him for the first time.
“My beloved Jacaerys.”
At that moment Rhaenyra understood her father’s words perfectly.
“You never love anything in the world the way you love your first child.”
She burned for Jacaerys.