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"Fuck Otto Hightower. The man is more deranged than I thought if he thinks we will give him the satisfaction of having bastards with which to debase our position."
He tipped the cup, downing the entire contents in one gulp. Beside him, Rhaenyra stroked Joffrey's golden curls sprawled across her lap. The three of them were in varying states of undress, barely covered by the sheets, the situation harbouring not a hint of sexuality or sensuality, but rather a certain comfort developed by shared secrets and worked trust.
"He certainly doesn't expect us to have legitimate children. Alicent practically struts around the fortress starting rumours about your appetites, supposedly the faith believes that it makes you incapable of bearing children. "
Laenor growled in offence. Though they both knew he was not entirely incorrect. He certainly wasn't sure he could have done his duty without Joffrey's interference. Not for lack of trying, the gods knew he had tried many times with different women before and with the princess once they were married. And Rhaenyra was definitely the most beautiful woman in the whole realm, even a deathbed underdog would be able to raise his cock to the delight of the realm with just a glance.
Laenor on the other hand...well, it was the darker golden curls that urged a reaction from him.
He enjoyed caressing the princess's alabaster skin, playing with her hair and even touching her tits was somehow nice. But that was the problem, it was all just nice, nice as it would be to feel rain in a drought, nice didn't make his cock rise.
Joffrey's fire was what made his blood burn.
"Too bad for him then, I hope he has a stroke and drops dead when our princess gives birth to a handsome prince who will be pure Targaryen-Velaryon, the great Valirya reborn in his blood,’ Joffrey declared, smiling at them both, his right hand clutching Laenor's free one.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in amusement. "Ser Joffrey is too sure what our children will look like, I think he's chosen the eye colour and everything."
"Of course, Princess! What am I but a man of prevision?' Joffrey suddenly dropped to his knees, exclaiming vehemently to the amusement of his companions ’The heir of the heir, they will have Velaryon curls obviously but the child will be brilliant rather than boring and will inherit the colours of Princess Rhaenys! Dark skin but Targaryen eyes! Laenor's perfect jaw but his mother's gentle gaze" the man almost sighed dreamily ‘Of course I will instruct them, as the noblest defender of my favourite royal couple’ he winked, eliciting another round of laughter from the other two ‘ "Will be the strongest and bravest knight in the seven kingdoms and will break hearts with a single glance. The spitting image of the man I love and my favourite person, my future queen," he finished in a much less playful and more sincere tone.
Laenor leaned down with suddenly half teary eyes, kissing him softly in an attempt to share her emotions. Gratitude, love, thanks and happiness.
Rhaenyra watched them with an affectionate half-smile, stroking her still flat belly that, hopefully, would soon begin to grow. She hoped Joffrey's words would soon come true.
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"A boy, Princess! A new heir!" the midwife announced happily, the newborn's squeaks flooding the room as Rhaenyra collapsed on the bed, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion but still full of contentment.
"Give me my son, we will cleanse ourselves and summon Ser Laenor, please" the princess commanded as she watched a few tiny feet move as the midwife finished cutting the cord and her attendants cleaned the child before passing him to her. As quickly as possible her ladies helped her to clean and change with the baby never leaving her arms, unwilling to let go, the child had the strongest lungs of the kingdom.
This was her child. Her son.
"Rhaenyra!" Laenor rushed forward, still half-pale in the face as when he had been dismissed from the room when the labour had begun. "Gods, look at him...He's perfect," he stroked the little head of curls with the tenderness of a man seeing the wondrous for the first time, and bent to kiss his wife's still half-sweating forehead."A perfect and beautiful son you have made. Thank you so much, princess."
‘’He is‘’ she agreed, still gazing at her beautiful son but taking her husband's words to heart. She knew that Laenor had resigned to the idea of never having children of his own blood, believing it almost impossible. Now that they had overturned that belief, it was obvious that her husband would be twice as devoted to the child who was a miracle to him. "We must question Joffrey! How could he possibly have guessed?" she whispered quietly in her husband's ear, who let out a watery chuckle at her dramatics.
"I will question him myself, Princess...But look at those eyes? Joff certainly didn't do them justice," Laenor noted, looking at the newborn who stared into dark purple eyes with a hint of blue-green sea, the dark curls intermingled with his mother's more golden platinum hue, the colouring resembling that of Princess Rhaenys.
"‘No" Rhaenyra agreed “He certainly did not” she drew the calm child close to kiss him on the forehead "Our perfect Jacaerys, you will be the most beloved prince of all."
They stood in silence for a few moments, still overcome with love and affection for this little creature, before the disturbance burst through their doors.
‘Ser Criston " Laenor straightened up , it was no secret that he hated the queen's guard dog after he nearly beat Joffrey to death at their wedding "Do you need anything? This is a private moment, your heir princess has just given birth to her heir"
The guard looked at him with unconcealed disgust. "The queen orders the child to be taken to see him".
Laenor grew even more enraged, and the princess could see Joffrey behind Ser Criston clenching his fists. The queen could get lost in a squid storm for all he cared. "The queen overreaches. The maester was clear that my wife needs rest after the long hours of childbirth."
Ser Criston smiled grotesquely, pointing to the skittish maid standing a few paces behind him. "She will carry the boy."
Joffrey overlooked him, coming to Rhaenyra's side and standing guard over her protectively. "That "boy" is your prince, Ser Criston. Watch your tongue. Would you ask a mother to let her newborn go after holding him in her arms for only minutes? Where is your honour, Ser ?" growled the man, who seemed furious contrary to his always affable and gracious composure.
"It is the queen's command. You have nothing to say, you swallow-...’
"Father!" Rhaenyra, who had so far only hugged her son to her chest while glaring at the guard furiously as if urging him to dare approach, cut off his obvious insult. "You came to meet your grandson."
The king entered the chamber, followed by Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. Ser Westerling a step behind them.
‘Ser Joffrey sent for us and..." the king's gaze fell upon his wife's sworn guard. "Ser Criston? What are you doing here at such an intimate moment?"
The knight looked at him for a second before ducking his head. "Your Grace, I was just...’’
"Goodfather, I was just explaining to your royal guard that having my wife walk over the fortress to find the queen only to introduce her to our son was not a good idea at this moment, Maester Gerardys recommended rest for the health of the heiress. But Ser Criston is apparently incapable of empathizing with the pains of childbirth and a mother's desire to hold her newborn child.’"Laenor spoke to the king, but did not take his eyes off the king's guard.
"Ser Criston, by whose orders exactly are you endangering the health of the crown princess" The king looked at him, clearly disgusted with the idea of his daughter suffering any pain.
The guard stirred, clearly unwilling to answer.
"Ser Criston, answer your king's question,"Ser Westerling obliged with a square jaw, clearly displeased with the guard.
Ser Criston swallowed and answered between his teeth. ‘The queen, your grace.’
The king scowled even more, and the older Velaryon looked as furious as his son.
‘The queen oversteps , cousin. Being a woman who has herself passed the birthbed, I am surprised that she would make orders that could cause the princess such pain,’ Princess Rhaenys expounded, looking almost disgusted at the Kingsguard.
The king muttered under his breath."I will speak to my wife later. Ser Criston, stand down and do not leave your guard again. The Lord Commander will address that item of your work with you later," he ordered.
The royal guard left the room quickly under the serious gaze of his commander, and the air seemed to clear suddenly. Before Lord Corlys could complain, Joffrey moved again to stand guard near the door, the proper place as Laenor's sworn guard.
"Now daughter let me see my grandson! Is it true? A healthy boy?"
Rhaenyra nodded, pushing her father's comment aside to concentrate again on the happiness of her baby being safe and sound.
“Come and meet your grandson, all three of you, please.”
With Laenor's help, she managed to half sit up before revealing the baby's body in her arms.
"Oh!" Princess Rhaenys gasped as soon as she saw him - Laenor would later swear that her mother had let out a tear or two and even her father's eyes looked half watery.
"I think your genes won out this time, cousin, as well as the Velaryon side.’"
Quickly, the king and Princess Rhaenys fought to be the first to hold their grandson. Rhaenys won, of course. And Lord Corlys reached over to pat Laenor's back, telling him how proud he was.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes at the latter.
"He is beautiful, Princess. His eyes look as if the colours of our house have blended together,’ Lord Corlys stated, tremendously proud of his grandson's Velaryon appearance.
"I could not have said it better, good father. Jacaerys Targaryen Velaryon will be a king."
"Born under a red moon, a child blessed by the gods and our ancestors, daughter!"
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Later, when they all had gone and night fell, Joffrey would slip away to make a proper acquaintance with little Jace-
"I told you princess! I am a knight of honour. Look at him, he's a perfect little creature, of course you are," cooed the young knight to the baby snoozing in his arms as he rocked him around the room. "I am Uncle Joff, my little prince, I will help you to be a good knight. The gods know that your father, as much as I love him, is mediocre with the sword."
Laenor's cry of indignation and Rhaenyra's laughter rang out.
"It is impolite to deny the truth, my love. Having a dragon has made you mawkish with your sword skills."
Laenor raised her chin stubbornly. "Is that so, Ser Joffrey? Because last time, I distinctly remember you liking very much my swo-’
Rhaenyra choked.
‘Laenor! Not in front of our child!’
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The entire court was called to the throne room for the formal presentation of Rhaenyra's newborn son. Three moons had passed since his birth and his mother could delay no longer.
Ha. As if letting time pass would change the colour of the boy's hair or his features or his father's inclinations.
Laenor Velaryon was a complete sword-swallower if ever there was one. And as faith knew well, such a man could never beget children, even if his bride was the reincarnated maiden herself. Alicent knew the truth.
The child was a bastard. And a very obvious one, if his mother had hidden him for so long.
Alicent had heard the servants gossiping about dark hair. If that wasn't a sign, nothing was. Rhaenyra and Laenor both had the trademark Targaryen white hair, so for her son to be born with dark hair would be...doubtful - at least that was what she had said aloud several times at their tea gatherings.
Not that she wished the child harm, for he had not asked for his mother to be a whore and disgrace her husband. But a bastard was a bastard, born of sin, it would serve to decimate support for Rhaenyra, so it would be easier to assert Aegon's claim. A bastard as king? Unacceptable! Almost as unacceptable as a woman on the throne.
Rhaenyra should have renounced being heir as soon as Aegon was born, any godly woman would have done so. By refusing, she only further proved how unfit she was.
The gates opened.
"Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne, and her husband, Ser Laenor of House Velaryon, heir to Driftmark.’
Rhaenyra and her husband led the way, she with a bundle of red and gold cloaks in her arms while the other led with a hand on her back. Both firm and as arrogant as the Targaryens were.
The princess again showed her pomposity in an elaborate blood-red gown in a black corset, golden jewels glittering with every step. The dress clung to her upper body and the neckline pushed her tits dishonourably.
‘A whore in all her splendour.’
Alicent heard Ser Criston snort derisively under his breath behind him.
The pair advanced to the throne, where the king waited impatiently.
Alicent eyes nearly rolled . Foolish Viserys wouldn't know a bastard from his sweet daughter if the boy shouted it in his face. Rhaenyra played on the power she held over her father, and she would damn them all for it.
‘Oh, my daughter!, he grows larger every day.’
‘’He's strong, good father. He inherited the Velaryon structure’ Ser Laenor boasted , earning a round of laughter from the king and several in the court.
"Of course of course, his charm is pure Targaryen,though " the king defended.
"Of that there is no doubt, father. Even less so after this morning's event,' the princess interposed , cradling the bundle in her arms that no one had yet managed to see fully. ‘The egg has begun to hatch. I have no doubt we will have a new dragon in the family before nightfall," she boasted with a smile of pure greed.
Alicent almost swallowed her tongue. The bastard had managed to hatch a dragon egg in the cradle? Impossible!
Her own sons, pure Targaryens blessed by faith, had failed to hatch their own. Surely it was all another ploy by the pampered princess. Yes. That must be it.
"I thank every Lord and Lady of the court for coming forward today, I know many were eager to meet my son, but mothers will understand me... it is very hard to part with your newborn" nods from older Ladys who were surely mothers and even grandmothers "But here we are, and finally it is my pleasure to present before you, the Prince Jacaerys of House Targaryen and Velaryon, the heir of the heir to the Iron Throne, your future king.’
Rhaenyra bowed, and uncovered the creature to expose its head for all to see.
She knew it! Black hair! Black hair and...curly white locks. Tanned skin?
No.
No way.
‘The heir to the heir!’
‘Hear hear!’
‘To the red prince!’
‘To the bloodmoon prince!’
The king stood proudly as the entire court burst into applause and the princess and her husband began the procession to present the prince to the entire court individually.
Happy murmurs resounded at each presentation and the servants were already filling cups to toast on behalf of the little prince.
"The hair is all mine! My genes beat those of Lord Corlys and the king himself!" came the proud comment from Princess Rhaenys who had chased after the couple, followed by the laughter of the people around them.
"Just wait for the next one, cousin! Besides, look at his nose and lips, pure Targaryen I tell you!" the king almost shouted from the throne before hastily alighting and half-running towards the procession.
Alicent was about to faint.
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"Laenor!"
The alluded one paid no heed, continuing to lie on the floor as he pulled little Jace up and down, who rewarded him each time with a gingery chuckle.
"Laenor Velaryon!"
"Yes, dear?"
"Look at me."
Laenor sighed as he sat up and cradled Jace with a sloppy kiss on his chubby cheek before facing his wife.
"Oh, fuck."
"Not in front of our child!"
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"Why can't we spoil our grandson? Isn't that our duty as grandparents?"
"I never said you couldn't spoil him, Mother, but don't you think it's a bit much? The child has not yet reached his first onomastic and already he has more weight in gold than most houses in the crown lands!" Laenor's tired voice echoed in the gardens where the family had gathered to break their fast.
"I don't see why that's a problem, Jace is a Tagaryen prince and a Velaryon" Lord Corlys stated plainly.
Laenor groaned in half anguish and Rhaenyra could see Joffrey hold back his laughter a little way back from where he stood with Jace in his arms, showing him the flowers that most caught his eye.
“That's not the point, father. Besides, Jace still sleeps 15 out of 24 hours a day, what could he use now with a diamond dagger more valuable than half of Rhaenyra's jewellery and the five shipments that arrived last week? The boy is still drooling!"
"It is as your father said, Laenor. Besides, Jace deserves it, he's a well-behaved little boy, he'll grow up to use his gifts." Rhaenys looked unaffected as she took another sip of her tea.
"I imagine this has nothing to do with the competition you and my father have, does it not, princess?" Rhaeyra inquired with arched eyebrows.
Rhaenys said nothing, merely looked away until she had finished her tea and stood, approaching Jace to lift him.
Laenor gave her a half-horrified look.
"Competition? What are you talking about, Rhaenyra?"
Lord Corlys made a ghastly mime of needing something and ran after his wife.
"Why do you think every time your parents give Jace a gift, my father gives him a gift the next day?"
Laenor sat down beside him and let out a wailing moan as she slumped against his shoulder. "We're in a circle of hell."
"Don't worry, I have a plan. I've already threatened my father that any gift to his grandson will be a donation in Jace's name to my new projects for orphanages and healing houses.’
"Do you think my parents will agree?"
"They will if Rhaenys wants to keep walking around the fortress showing everyone how similar she is to Jace and mocking my father's weak genes."
‘Gods...If that's how it is with Jace, imagine my father when we do get his heir to Driftmark.’
“Laenor...Shut up.”
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The Velaryons were, in fact, unbearable when Laenor and Rhaenyra's second child came kicking into the world on a rainy, stormy day at Dragonstone. The waves crashed against the rock of the island the more the sea grew restless, and according to Lord Corlys Velaryon, only calmed when little prince Lucerys Velaryon gave his first cry outside his mother's womb.
Only on the day of his birth, Corlys declared that he already had 10 ships ready for his little heir, the pearl Driftmark they called him, the ceaseless storm. For his greenish-flecked blue eyes and smooth face were the exact copy of the late Queen Aemma, his skin a shade lighter than his brother Jacaerys' but even darker than Rhaenyra's - the princess had no doubt it would darken further in time - and the silver Velaryon curls in all their glory.
They all claimed he was the most beautiful newborn ever seen.
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“Hello, my lawdy”
Miranda almost dropped the pork pie she had been carefully cutting for shipment out of the fortress. The princess had again ordered that all the good leftovers from the feast be distributed to the city's orphanage, bless her. She was sick of throwing good food away.
When she turned around to confront the one who had frightened her - and give him a spanking if it was that stable boy who wouldn't seem to leave one of his girls alone - she found herself looking down at the floor, rather than straight ahead as she had expected.
Miranda yelped.
"My prince!"
Prince Jacaerys Targaryen Velaryon was staring at her with big, bright amethyst eyes, unruly silver and black curls strewn all over his little head and impeccable posture.
‘Hello, my lawdy. I'm sorry I scared you."
"No no, you have nothing to apologize for, my prince. And my name is Miranda, head chef, I'm not a lady" she hastened to clarify, lest someone had overheard, though by the constant glances around, her girls had already noticed the scene.
Miranda glanced nervously at the kitchen doorway, waiting for whoever was guarding the child to come in and snap her out of an interaction that could cost her head, especially with the foul mood the queen had been in the past few moons since Lord Corlys Velaryon had announced the hunt and banquet in honour of her heir's third onomastic - fully funded by her household and with the king's support - the crown princess's second son, Prince Lucerys.
The little prince nodded seriously and his curls bounced. Miranda had to swallow the ‘aw’ that sounded loud in her mind. ‘I understand, Mrs. Miranda...I...’ the little prince looked around and bowed slightly, ‘I'd like to ask for a slice of stawberry pie, if you don't mind," he whispered.
Miranda had to stop her eyebrows from leaving her face. "Strawberry cake, my prince?"
The little prince nodded eagerly, with a little smile at being understood.
"I...Yes of course! We'll bring it to you immediately!"
The little prince let out a happy chuckle before running over and sitting down at the central kitchen table. Miranda watched him struggle with the high chair, before managing to climb up one of the legs and sit down heavily. His shoulders and head barely visible above the high table. Some of the girls hurried to move the utensils off the table leaving him at least the space in front of him clean. The boy smiled at everyone in good humour, earning smiles from everyone in the kitchen.
The little prince was the most adorable child.
But he couldn't sit and eat in the kitchens with the servants.
Miranda set the plate down in front of the little prince and cleared her throat.
"Let me escort you back to whoever is looking after you, my prince, and you can have your strawberry cake."
‘Oh!" the little price looked at the cake with shining eyes and took the fork without waiting. "It's okay, Mrs. Miranda! Uncle Joff and Luce will come and get me swoon, we were playing hide and seek while mother works! Or..."the boy deflated, looking at her like a lamb with its throat slit, "If I bother here, I can leawve. Mrs. Miranda"
Miranda hastened to deny quickly, feeling guilty. "Of course not, my prince, it is an honour!"
The little prince gave them a broad sunny smile that caused barely concealed cooing and without waiting any longer, he stuck his fork into the cake.
Miranda didn't quite know what else to do, but she made sure to check on the child every few seconds as she returned to her previous work. Gods forbid the little prince should drown under her watch.
The boy gave no trouble, he kept quietly moving his legs happily and looking around curiously as he chewed.
‘’Mrs. Miranda?"
‘Yes, my prince?"
‘Are you with the queen?’
Miranda turned to look at him, confused. "Excuse me, my prince, I don't understand what you are referring to."
The little boy seemed to ponder it for a few seconds, with more seriousness than a child of five onomastics should be capable of.
‘My mowther has her house, and she takes care of and pays those who serve on it...So if you sewrve the queen's house, she does the same for you?"
"Uh...Yes, my prince. The kitchens are under the queen's command as part of the staff of her house in the fortress."
"And are you happy, Mrs. Miranda?"
Miranda looked at him, quizzical and doubtful."Of course, my prince!
It is an honour to serve the royal family and its court."
The little prince only looked at her for a few seconds, before smiling affably. "I am gwlad. Do you like the new dresses, Mrs. Miranda?"
Miranda only laughed lightly. This boy was the strangest and kindest prince she had ever had the pleasure of meeting.
"Every woman likes new cloth, my prince."
The little prince nodded, seemingly mollified, before turning and asking the same questions again to the first woman who returned his gaze.
Miranda watched strangely as the young prince won over even the most timid and skittish young woman in the kitchen, making small but friendly conversation. Her cake was long finished.
The little prince seemed ready to enter a new subject when quick, firm footsteps echoed.
"Prince Jacaerys! Thank the seven I found you, don't scare me like that again, my prince! I fear you'll turn my hair as white as your parents "
Ser Joffrey, the little prince's new sworn guard, rushed into the kitchens and hovered over him as if searching for any misplaced hair on his little head. Miranda was reminded of a mother hen. The little prince simply laughed gleefully, before leaping from his chair and taking Ser Joffrey's hand.
"You told me to hide as best I could and I did! I won!"
"Yes you did, clever boy, you had me scouring Maegor's tower like a rat in hiding. I even went to the dragon pit at the risk of your mother cutting my head off and Vermax burning me to death."
The little prince only chuckled, leaning into the knight's armour.
Ser Joffrey stroked the boy's curls with affectionate regret and turned to the group watching in amusement.
"I am sorry, ladies. I fear our prince is too good at eluding his guard. I hope there hasn't been any trouble?"
Miranda stepped forward. "Not at all, Ser. The little prince is only the most kind, we appreciate your visit.’
The knight nodded and stepped back, taking the prince with him.
The little prince reached back as they were crossing the entrance, and waved with a hand and an open smile. "Thank you for the cake, my lawdies, it was delicious!"
Oh, such a sweet boy.