Rhaenyra Targaryen's trueborn daughter had finally revealed her allegiance to reclaim her birthright. she would stop at nothing to restore her love and the throne that was rightfully hers, no matter the cost.
Show: house of the dragon
Aegon ii Targa...
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With one final, mighty effort, Rhaenyra let out a last anguished scream and slumped back against the pillows, utterly spent. Her cries were met by the piercing wails of her newborn baby, whose insistent shrieks filled the air.
Her babe is alive.
For nine long months, Rhaenyra had endured the whispered doubts that shadowed her every step. "The late Queen Aemma's struggles in childbirth are well-known...will Princess Rhaenyra suffer the same fate?" The ominous whispers sent shivers down her spine, conjuring fears she couldn't shake. Her first child, and already people were predicting her demise, drawing eerie parallels to her mother's tragic fate.
But then, a loud cry pierced the air: "It's a girl, Princess!" The midwife's announcement jolted Rhaenyra back to the present, her mind racing with mixed emotions. While a part of her had hoped for a son to secure her claim to the throne, and appease the lords who valued male heirs, another part of her rejoiced at the arrival of her little one, regardless of gender.
But in that instant, a chilling realization dawned on her: her child's life was now in peril, not because she wasn't a boy, but because she was hers. A fleeting memory of her wedding day, and the green dress the queen had worn, flashed before her eyes, a stark reminder of the dangers that lay ahead for her innocent daughter.
Because she birthed her.
She had to watch and guard her back, looking for traitors that wished to tear her to pieces and feast on her remains.
All so they could get their hands on what was rightfully hers, the Iron Throne.
She never wanted it, she never wanted to be her father's heir. Rhaenyra only wanted her father to see her, to hear her, to understand her, she wanted him to stop torturing her mother by forcing her to birth him a son when she was right there, already born, already his.
Once, her only desire was to fly across the Narrow Sea on Syrax's back and indulge in cake. But now, the duty and burden passed down by Viserys weighed upon her shoulders. A burden she would soon bestow upon her own daughter. A silent vow formed within her for herself and her daughter. She would forge a path, find a way to rebuild this world anew, so that when her daughter's time came to ascend the throne and wear the crown, she could do so without fear of rebellion.
Rhaenyra will raise her right because this life was not easy, especially not for them. She'll raise her to be strong and capable because she had to be if she wanted to survive in a world run by men.
Because she was her daughter, hers to protect, hers to raise, hers to love.
"Princess?" The midwife who was cleaning her daughter called out. She held Rhaenyra's heir in her hold, the girl now perfectly clean. She stretched her shaking arms out to take the babe — her daughter was so small, so fragile and yet screaming as if she was already angry at the world. She looked up for a brief moment, daring herself to ask, her voice breathless with hope, "Healthy?" The midwife smiled, nodding her head. "Yes Princess." Overwhelmed with relief, she let out a breath before turning her full attention to her newborn. Rhaenyra froze when she found her daughter studying her intently and with fascination.
