𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 • 𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 & 𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

112 𝓐𝔠.

Alicent's screams reverberated throughout the chamber, the agonizing torment of childbirth forever etched in her memory. It was a sensation she could never grow accustomed to, she thought with unwavering conviction. Once before, she had endured this ordeal, but it was a harrowing experience filled not only with fear, but also the haunting specter of her babes mortality, her own mortality, and the excruciating anguish that accompanied it all.

This time, however, apprehension gripped Alicent's heart. Be it a mother's intuition or a whisper from the gods, she wholeheartedly believed that a daughter would be brought forth into the world. The signs were there, evident in the nuances of her pregnancy, and even the maesters shared in her belief. Yet, it was the fear of a loving mother that fueled her dread. She yearned to shield her potential daughter from the trials and tribulations that befell women in this realm.

And so, she sat there, her piercing screams   vibrating through the air, her body drenched in perspiration, her hair clinging to her forehead. Every voice around her seemed distant and muffled, as if obscured by fog. But then, amidst the chaos, she heard it—a cry, delicate and pure, emanating from a tiny, innocent soul.

"A girl, my queen," whispered one of the midwives, her voice filled with reverence, as she cradled the newborn in her arms, stained with the remnants of the birthing blood.

Alicent's chest heaved, her breath ragged as she fought to steady herself. "Grant me a glimpse of her," she commanded.

The midwife did as she was told, passing the babe to her mother. Alicent's cheeks, already stained with tears, glistened with even more as she gazed upon the little girl cradled in her arms. Alicent couldn't quite decipher if the tears were of joy or sorrow. It seemed to be a mixture of both. The moment her precious babe was placed in her embrace, she knew she loved her, of course. But still, Alicent, a young girl of just eight and ten, couldn't quiet the thoughts racing through her mind.

"She be a sight to behold, your grace," spoke the midwife, her own eyes welling with tears.

And as expected, the babe bore a complexion as pale as the moon, eyes as vibrant as dark lilacs, and hair as lustrous as pearls. A true Targaryen, indeed.

Alicent observed the babe more closely, her gaze fixed on the infant's face as the child's eye flickered open, struggling to maintain its focus. As her gaze fell upon the child's eye, she couldn't help but notice that the right one betrayed a splash of brown, splitting the dark lilac hue in two.

Alicent's expression grew concerned, her sweaty forehead creasing as she glanced at the maester with worry. "Is this alright?" she asked, her words tumbling out in a rush. "What does this mean? Is she- is this normal?"

The maester swiftly reassured Alicent, his calm and awe-struck visage quelling her worries in an instant. "Rest assured, my Queen, the child is not afflicted with any deformity," he explained. "This is a gift from the gods, a unique trait she bears."

Alicent exhaled a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. As long as her child's vision would not be compromised, all was well. Drawing closer, she observed closely and found a warm sense of connection as she realized that the splash of brown in the child's eye perfectly mirrored the shade of her own dark eyes.

It was a somewhat frivolous thought for Alicent to have, but she couldn't deny the persistent whisper in her mind. The small splash of brown in her daughter's eye seemed to her like a tangible representation of her, a sign that not just inherited the blood of the Targaryen lineage, but also something more visible and external. This  trait, so clearly visible, was a mark of Alicent's own heritage. It was as if her daughter bore not just her blood, but a piece of her soul, for all to see.

Alicent's gaze remained fixed upon the girl, her nod a silent affirmation. With gentle grace, she leaned her forehead against her babe's, their connection as delicate as a feather's touch.

Later that day, once the babe had been cleansed, Alicent herself partook in a soothing bath. Seated in her chamber, a crib nestled nearby, laid her precious little girl. Alicent's attention was abruptly diverted as the door swung open, ushering in the arrival of Viserys.

Viserys, with a purposeful stride, approached Alicent and said, "I was informed of a girl."

A gentle hum escaped Alicent's lips in reply, as Viserys cast his gaze upon the slumbering girl. Despite her peaceful rest, it did not deter him from scooping her up, and cradling her in his embrace.

Viserys gave a solemn nod in the direction of the infant, his voice laced with conviction. "I do believe Rhaenyra would be filled with joy, for they shall forge a bond that withstands the test of time."

Alicent let out a soft sigh, her gaze falling upon the floor. Doubt crept into her heart, for she questioned if such a fate would ever come to pass.

Raising his eyes from the babe to his wife, Viserys spoke, "She's a beauty, just like her mother."

Alicent's lips curved into a gentle smile, though it was merely a smile meant to please Viserys. She had anticipated a hint of disappointment in his eyes upon learning that the babe was a girl. His desire for a boy had been evident, and even though they had Aegon, Alicent knew that one son was not enough to satisfy his longing. However, Viserys, in his wisdom, understood that with two successful pregnancies, Alicent was more than capable of providing him with more sons in the future. And so, for the time being, he found contentment in their daughter.

Furthermore, with a daughter of such a high status, marriage proposals arrived, ones that could forge strong alliances and, in turn, lead to more heirs, thereby bestowing added authority upon him and his family.

"Have you pondered upon a name for her, my king?" Inquired Alicent, her gaze now fixed upon Viserys.

Viserys took a moment to gaze upon the babe in his arms, a contemplative expression on his face. "No, I must confess I have not," he replied, truthfully. "I had anticipated a boy, but as it turns out, fate had other plans." He continued, "... Rhaenyra often spoke of a name from her countless readings. A name that I, too, find myself drawn to."

Alicent's eyes furrowed in contemplative pause, as if lost in her thoughts. Rhaenyra... the name echoed in her mind. The girl didn't seem to have an affinity for books to warrant such a choice, or any other reason for that matter. Yet, Alicent remained silent, the dutiful wife patiently waiting for Viserys' words before she dared to voice her own opinion.

"Dare I say, Astorea be a perfect name for her," Viserys proclaimed, his voice carrying a hint of regal certainty. With that, he gently placed the babe back down, as if sealing her fate with the chosen name.

To Alicent's knowledge, she had never heard of a Targaryen graced with such a name. And though her expertise in this matter may be limited, she could confidently declare that her daughter would be the first of her name, bearing a distinguished moniker, different from her elder brother Aegon, who had been named after the mighty Aegon the Conqueror.

Alicent nodded in agreement. "Indeed, what a splendid name, my king."

Viserys nodded in response to her words. "Rest well," he concluded, his voice carrying a touch of solemnity, before gracefully making his way out.

Alicent's eyes lingered for a moment on the spot where Viserys had stood, as if reluctant to let him go. But then, her attention shifted back to her babe—Astorea.

Bending down to the crib, Alicent's finger gently traced across her daughter's soft cheek. Even in her deep slumber, Astorea stirred ever so slightly in response to the tender touch.

"Astorea," Alicent whispered softly, her voice filled with tenderness as she gazed at her slumbering daughter.

-

Ah!! Rlly hope u enjoyed the first chapter.
I can't wait to introduce the mischief that is Astorea Targaryen. I hope this was as entertaining to read as it was to write.

-Angie. xx