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THE BABY WAS BORN AMONGST THUNDER AND RAIN - the wails of new life almost completely drowned out by the storm that befell King's Landing, the occasional flash of lightning brightening the room only lit by candles.
Sweat soaked Rhaenyra Targaryen's skin as she held her firstborn in her arms, shaking from the agonising labour she had just endured. It was not uncommon for Targaryen women to have such difficult labours, Rhaenyra herself having seen such with her own mother, but that thought only stirred more uncertainty when it came to times like this. Rhaenyra was fortunate in this case, but only just. It was only after Rhaenyra's heavy bleeding had reduced and the newborn let out its first cry that the colour began to return to Laenor Velaryon's skin. He felt incredibly nauseous from the anxiety of it all but didn't want to make a scene. After all, it was not him pushing out the baby.
As mentioned, the birth had not been easy, and it was almost as if the storm had warned Rhaenyra of that. A premonition. A storm was coming, it had told her, in the form of a baby girl born in the late winter months of the year. Nobody could say that the newborn had come into the world quietly.
Rhaenyra hardly registered being asked what she would name the child. Part of her wanted to tell whoever it was to fuck off, still recovering from what was a traumatic childbirth. Her first, at that. She was sure the baby would not cry over being nameless for a little while longer. Instead, her purple eyes watched as Laenor brushed his finger against the baby's tiny, clenched fist, adoration in his eyes.
The baby was his, undoubtedly.
Despite having only tried for a baby once and having only shared a bed no more than a dozen times, the child that rested in Rhaenyra's arms was without question his own, both in blood and name. A smile adorned his face as he gazed upon the small girl. Even in her state of extreme discomfort, the Targaryen princess couldn't help but beam as she looked upon the interaction.
The baby was pale as newborns usually were, but still bore warm brown skin, tone much closer to that of her father's than her mother's, contrasting against the pale silver-white hair that sprouted from her head. And as for her eyes, they were lilac, just like most that shared her blood. The birthmark she adorned would later become a somewhat controversial topic of discussion among historians - a patch of skin a few shades lighter than her own just by her right eye and stretching to her ear, the shape of it almost resembling spilt ink, dripping down an inch past her cheekbone. It only enhanced her beauty, in Rhaenyra and Laenor's eyes.
Rhaenyra's head tilted as she looked at her firstborn, seeing the curious expression on her face, and the way her eyes moved around as if trying to see everyone in the room. Another smile growing on her lips, Rhaenyra adjusted the babe in her arms before turning to her husband.
