paradox - Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 1: Prince Joffrey

Several years later... 

'A boy. I've just heard,' Ser Laenor said, walking into the chamber where his wife, Princess Rhaenyra, was just getting dressed, still holding her new-born son in her arms. It had been a difficult birth, but when Rhaenyra had received word from one of her ladies in waiting that Queen Alicent had sent for her, Rhaenyra, as tired as she was from her labours, was preparing to go anyway. 

'Yes,' Rhaenyra replied tiredly, walking towards the door of her chambers with Laenor looking at her in confusion. 

'Where are you going?' Laenor asked. 

'She wants to see him.' 

'Now?' he said, hurriedly walking after the princess. 'I'm coming with you,' he added, coming alongside her, supporting her in case anything should happen. 

'I should hope so,' she replied matter-of-factly. 

'Let me take him,' Laenor offered. 

'No. She'll get no such satisfaction from me.' 

'Just take my arm, at the least,' Laenor said. She barely budged but relaxed visibly. 'Was it terribly painful?' he asked. She simply stared at him. 

'Oh, gods,' she muttered, seeing the crowds of people in the great hall. Laenor helped her down the steps, slowly, carefully. 

'I took a lance through the shoulder once,' Laenor said. 

'My deepest sympathies,' Rhaenyra replied softly. 

'I am glad I am not a woman.' Several people muttered acknowledgements as she walked by, but said nothing in response to her exhaustion. She stopped at the steps and let out a soft groan. 'What is it?' he asked. 

'Fuck,' she muttered under her breath. 'Walk.' 

'What?' 

'Walk,' she gritted out through her teeth. 

'What could she possibly want?' Laenor snapped as he helped Rhaenyra up the stairs. 'I thought we were past this.' One of the lords stopped on the second flight of steps, bowing to her. 

'Princess, Ser Laenor, it is a privilege to be amongst the first to congratulate you,' he said politely. 

'Thank you, Lord Caswell,' Rhaenyra replied. 

'If I may be of any service...' 

'The day may yet come, my lord,' Rhaenyra replied, barely stopping to look back at Lord Caswell as Laenor continued to lead his wife up the steps. She stopped again near the top of the steps. 

'We are turning back, all right?' Laenor said, grabbing his wife's arm more urgently. 'She can come to us.' 

'No. Not unless you wish to carry me down those fucking stairs,' she snapped. He sighed, continuing to help her up, taking her to the place where Alicent was waiting for them. 

'This is absurd,' Laenor muttered, Rhaenyra saying nothing in response. The two came to the door of Alicent's chambers, and Ser Criston Cole appeared. 

'Princess,' he said, inclining his head slightly, then stepping aside to allow her and Laenor into the room. Alicent's ladies in waiting turned to Rhaenyra and curtsied, then walked away. 

'Rhaenyra!' Alicent exclaimed in mock surprise. 'You should be resting after your labours.' 

'I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Your Grace.' 

'You must sit,' Alicent said. 'Talya, fetch a cushion for the princess.' 

'There's no need,' Rhaenyra replied politely. 

'Nonsense.' The lady-in-waiting, Talya, brought the cushion over to Princess Rhaenyra while Alicent came near to Laenor and Rhaenyra, eyeing the baby warily. Laenor helped her sit, and suddenly there was a voice from the door. 

'What happy news this morning,' Rhaenyra's father, Viserys Targaryen, exclaimed cheerfully, slightly limping into the room. 

'Indeed, Your Grace,' Laenor said with a polite smile to the aged king as he came over to his daughter. 

'Where is he?' Viserys asked, Laenor removing the young babe from Rhaenyra's arms and showing the king the new-born. 'Where is my grandson?' Laenor gently placed the new-born in Viserys' good arm, as the other had been amputated some time ago due to the infected cuts he had received from the Iron Throne's many swords. 'A fine prince,' Viserys complimented. 'Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight.' Alicent looked on the loving scene with a facial expression that was nigh unreadable. 

'Does the babe have a name yet?' Alicent asked. 

'We haven't spoken -' Rhaenyra began to say, but Laenor interrupted. 

'Joffrey.' Rhaenyra stared at him but said nothing. 'He'll be called Joffrey.' 

'That's an unusual name for a Velaryon,' Alicent replied. 

'I do believe he has his father's nose,' Viserys joked, and Laenor chuckled warmly. 

'If you don't mind, Your Grace,' Laenor began to say, 'your daughter has exerted herself heroically and must rest.' Rhaenyra stood to leave as Alicent came near to her aged husband and to the new-born babe, uncovering the blanket to look upon the sleeping baby's face, her expression quickly turning to a look of disapproval upon seeing the complexion of the child. Alicent took the baby, walking a short distance away with Laenor, and Viserys caught Rhaenrya's elbow. 

'Well done, my girl,' Viserys said softly. 'I do hope the labour was easy.' 

'I think I called the midwife a cunt,' Rhaenyra said softly, in a tone of mild regret. 

'Oh,' Viserys replied. Rhaenyra kissed her father on the cheek, and the father and daughter embraced momentarily. By the door, Alicent handed the child back to Laenor, coming close to him to speak in a low tone. 

'Do keep trying, Ser Laenor. Soon or late, you may get one who looks like you.' Laenor looked away, his face passive as his wife came back over to him, and the two left the room. 

They started to walk down the corridor, passing by Ser Criston Cole at the door to the chambers. 

'You don't... think to consult me before naming my child?' Rhaenyra asked tiredly as they walked. 

'He's our child, is he not?' Laenor replied. 

'Only one of us is bleeding.' 

'I deserve some say in the affairs of my family.' 

'You haven't seemed so interested in our affairs as of late,' Rhaenyra replied, and simply continued to walk down the corridor. Laenor turned, his gaze freezing on Ser Criston Cole by the door, and the trail of blood that continued to follow behind Rhaenyra Targaryen.