Rogue | Daemon&Rhaenyra

16

With ten years gone, the realm appears to have healed just the slightest, though the battles at hand are ones without words.

It becomes well known that Rhaenyra's children have similar traits to her friend Saerra. The boys bear an unremarkable resemblance to the Commander of the City Watch, from their hair to their eyes. They show no signs of Laenor anywhere in their looks, a fact of which the Green Queen uses to poison her children against Rhaenyra, the very same poison her father spilled upon her all those years ago.

In the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, a scene of profound intimacy unfolds. Rhaenyra, her body adorned with the sheen of sweat, lies upon the bed, her face contorted with a mix of agony and determination. Saerra stands steadfastly beside her, her grip tight around Rhaenyra's hand, providing a source of strength amidst the storm of pain.

Time seems to stand still as Rhaenyra's cries echo through the room, her voice a symphony of raw emotions. Each contraction ripples through her body, a relentless wave crashing against the shores of her endurance.

The air hangs heavy with anticipation, with the weight of new life about to emerge. Rhaenyra's breaths come in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the exertion of childbirth. In the depths of her being, she draws upon reserves of strength she never knew she possessed, driven by a mother's love and an unyielding determination to bring forth life into the world.

And then, in an instant, the room is filled with a chorus of cries. Rhaenyra's pain gives way to a profound sense of relief and awe as she beholds her newborn child. A boy, his fragile form cradled in the tender embrace of the midwife's hands. The room seems to glow with a newfound radiance, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from Rhaenyra's shoulders.

Saerra, her own heart overflowing with a mix of emotions, watches as the babe is placed upon Rhaenyra's chest. She marvels at the sight of this tiny, vulnerable life, so precious and fragile, yet destined to carry the weight of a legacy. Her fingers instinctively reach out to brush against the soft downy hair, her touch gentle and reverent.

Rhaenyra's tears flow freely, mingling with the perspiration on her brow, as she cradles her newborn son against her breast. She whispers words of love, of welcome, into his tiny ear, his name a secret shared between mother and child. Saerra's eyes well up with tears of her own, mirroring the profound emotions that course through the room.

" Princess..." A servant trails as she enters the chambers, " The Queen requested the child be brought to her, immediately."

Saerra sighs, but bites her tongue as she slowly reaches out to pick up the babe, but much to her surprise, Rhaenyra refuses. She requests to be dressed, but the afterbirth has her back on the floor in an instant. Saerra grabs hold of the babe as Rhaenyra cries out in pain, her hair and clothes covered in her own sweat. The Princess is dabbed with a towel as the servants place a dress over her body, even as the blood still pours down her legs. And just as Saerra hands the babe back to Rhaenyra, the doors swing open.

" A boy, I've just heard," Laenor smiles.

" Yes," Rhaenyra nods.

" Well done.  Where are you going?" He ponders.

" She wants to see him," Saerra responds as she places a hand on Rhaenyra's back to help keep her steady.

" Now?" Laenor scoffs, " I'm coming with you."

" I should hope so," Rhaenyra remarks.

" Let me take him."

" No, she'll get no such satisfaction from me."

" Just take my arm, at the least," Laenor offers, to which Rhaenyra accepts as they walk into the crowded hall, "  Was it terribly painful?" she nods, " I took a lance through the shoulder once."