Chapter Text
Near the end of 114 AC within Dragonstone, Princess Rhaenyra fell into labour with her first child.
The pain had increased, body flushed with sweat and face red as Rhaenyra pushed with a small army of midwives and maids fluttering about her. The sheets beneath her were already stained in various body fluids, Rhaenyra's limbs shaking with the pain. Her fear of birth, something which had waned as she aged, had flared back with a vengeance.
All she could think of was how her mother had died, butchered in her birthing bed by the cold knives of a maester. The fear came surging back between the dull pulsating pain of contractions, even with her faithful handmaiden Elinda at her side whispering encouragements and wiping at her sweat-soaked brow.
"Just a few more pushes, princess," one of the midwives urged her.
She shuddered, hair a loose sweaty mess around her shoulders and clothing ruined. An odd tang began to edge in between the smell of blood and the cleansing candles the maids had lit. Rhaenyra felt exposed and vulnerable inside her private quarters even knowing both Laenor and Harwin were standing guard in the adjacent chambers. That none would enter without her husband or sworn shield's leave.
A flare of agony, an expel of bloody fluid, then a sharp cry filled the air.
"A boy, princess!" the midwife declared, holding a squirming bundle high in her arms. "A healthy boy!"
A son, Rhaenyra felt herself slump in relief, all the pain and tension slipping from her like a snapped bowstring. The midwife at her back began to dab at her sweaty brow, even as the one before her carefully cleaned off the squalling infant. Rhaenyra reached out and a moment later a small body was placed within the cradle of her arms. Red features scrunched up, little fists fighting to escape the blanket. The hair dusting the skull a dull brown and when tiny eyes blinked blearily up at her they were the same colour as earth damp from rain.
He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"Jacaerys," she rasped, a trembling hand smoothing down the wisps of dark hair as the little red face scrunched up as the baby whined. "You will be named Jacaerys."
"A good name, princess," one of the maids said as she began cleaning up the bloodied sheets.
"A Velaryon name for a Velayron prince," another added.
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, too exhausted to even snap that Jacaerys was a Targaryen first and foremost. Oh well, that would come truth when he sat the throne after her. Her precious first born son.
She let the maids clean her, rubbing down her sweaty limbs with damp cloths even as the midwife inspected the mess between her legs. Quite frankly Rhaenyra did not want to know what it even looked like. Even now the pain was a dull throbbing, all of her mind engulfed in cooing at her newborn baby as the little one grumbled and squirmed.
Then Rhaenyra cried out, body convulsing wildly as a sharp bolt of agony roiled through her. One of the midwives snatched Jacaerys from her grasp before her thrashing could knock the newborn aside.
Distantly she was aware of the flurry of voices, of shouts and hands grasping at her but her vision was twisting and swirling. Like being plucked from her form, until the pains of her flesh were a distant thing and she was only connected to her body by a tiny wispy thread.
It was if she was outside, seeing herself be all but forced back down. The head midwife roaming her hands across Rhaenyra's distended belly before she started barking orders at the frightened flock around her. Her loyal handmaiden Elinda Massey held onto Jacaerys, the wailing babe clutched tight to her chest as she watched with frightened eyes from the corner of the room.
Her vision continued to twist and churn, murky and warm like flames. Rhaenyra felt the bloody sheets beneath her change, becoming smooth flesh and heated scales. A long tail coiled around her leg, a brief flash of wings, arms dotted in scales and ending in sharp talons. A heady presence pressed against her, so like her long lost mother Aemma that Rhaenyra felt her fear ebb away like water spilling from a pot.
Syrax, Rhaenyra thought drowsily. Not her dragon but rather whom her dragon had been named for. Rhaenyra had chosen that name for her companion in the hope the Valyrian goddess Lady Syrax would safeguard Aemma, that the mother of babes and hatchlings would let the Gentle Queen birth a sibling for Rhaenyra. Her pleas had been for naught- or perhaps they had been, for despite so many miscarriages and stillbirth Aemma continued to live until she was murdered -yet now the ancient Valyrian Mother had come for her, instead of the cold stare of the Ungoldly Mother Meraxes.
Rhaenyra clung to the sensation, of the presence of the goddess who resembled both woman and dragon. The air before her shifted, even as there was distant feeling of hands upon her body but the chaos in the birthing chambers was a far away thing.
Red and green smoke embraced her in a thick multi-coloured fog and something was looking at her from beyond, within the cloud of nightmares and dreams trying to entangle her brain. A monstrous thing, with the face of an animal skull and multiple immense horns spiraling from its nape. Its eyes glowed green and there was a heady scent of blood and ash and sulfur as a great clawed paw drew close.
It was offering something to her.
Lady Syrax's wings were brushing against her, far more real in that moment than the midwife's hands at her belly. Lady Syrax would pull her away if needed, away from the monstrous creature hunkered before her.
But the creature seemed familiar. She could not recognize it as one of the Fourteen yet for all she knew their effigies and forms could change, but the stink of blood and fire and magic reminded her of dragons. Even the hot breath, reeking of charred meat and brimstone, reminded her of them.
So she managed to reach her sweaty arms out and accept whatever the skull-faced god was offering her.
Rhaenyra was back within the birthing chambers so violently she gasped, nearly bolting upright if not for the hands pressing her down. Blood spilled down between her legs and Rhaenyra felt something be pulled from her. In that same moment there was a sharp tang within her mouth, as if she had swallowed a bitter drink, and she struggled not to vomit.
"Another boy," the midwife said, brow furrowed as she held up another tiny wrinkled body in her bloodied hands. "Princess, it is twins!"
"He's not crying-" Rhaenyra began, slumped back on the pillows with limbs trembling.
"He's alive, just quiet," the woman assured her, swiping down the newborn. Elinda drew close, expression relieved, with Jacaerys sobbing quietly in her arms.
"Twins and both boys, how fortuitous," one of the maids praised, a damp towel running over Rhaenyra's sweaty brow. "Ah, sometimes the babes sit too close within and they are missed before the birthing. Both are healthy and whole."
"Yet an odd birthmark," another said, peering down at the eerily silent newborn the head midwife still held.
"Birthmark?" Rhaenyra asked, struggling to focus her gaze while her limbs continued to shake.
The portly midwife moved forward, shifting the blanket so Rhaenyra could see the bare form the newborn babe. She took him into her arms, noting how that unlike Jacaerys, this babe had thick hair of silver. And there was a strange mark upon his abdomen, like an upside down triangle that encased his umbilical cord. For a brief instant she thought the birthmark was green but when she blinked it was a dull red like any other.
"Odd indeed," one maid commented. "But he has all his fingers and toes. And look! The silver hair of a true Velaryon."
Rhaenyra tugged the blanket around the little body, eying the damp hair of the baby; indeed Velaryons all had white hair with silver, lacking any of the golden highlights of their Targaryen kin. Typically it was white with silver highlights yet this newborn had hair a solid silver like polished metal. It was almost strange, how his hair was so bright while Jacaerys had dark brown. Rhaenyra was not sure what to think.
Then the baby opened his eyes and Rhaenyra stared at the burning green eyes that blinked up at her.
Something twisted within her as the baby looked up at her with unnerving awareness, the eyes unlike any shade of green she had seen before. More like the colour of fresh limes than the darker leaf-like greens she had seen from Lannisters. Focused upon her with such intensity she felt breathless.
"Aenar," Rhaenyra decided, gathering the babe in her arms even as Elinda knelt next to her so Jacaerys could be tucked against his twin. "You will be called Aenar."