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"In the silence of her birth, the world seemed to hold its breath, for she was pure—a fragile bloom in a garden of thorns, blissfully ignorant of the storm to come."
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❀ 110 AC ❀
The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within the Red Keep. Heavy rain battered the windows, while thunder growled like a distant beast. Lightning flashed, casting ghostly shadows across the chamber. Inside, the air was thick with tension and the scent of sweat and fear.
Alicent Hightower gripped the sheets beneath her, her knuckles white as she obeyed the midwives' urgent commands. The pain was overwhelming, but she knew it well; this was not her first child, though it felt like the most difficult. Every push seemed to last an eternity, and the storm's fury outside only heightened her sense of dread.
"Push, Your Grace," the head midwife urged, her voice steady despite the chaos around them.
Alicent gathered her strength and pushed once more, her body trembling with the effort. As she pushed, her mind raced with both hope and dread, wondering if this child would bring solace or more strife to their lives. Finally, she felt relief as the child was born, the tension in her body giving way to a deep exhaustion. The midwife quickly took the baby, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
Alicent held her breath for a moment, she lifted her head, eyes wide with fear, searching the faces of the maester and the midwives, looking for any sign of what was happening. They all surrounded the newborn, their expressions hidden by the dim light, the only illumination coming from the flashes of lightning, stark and cold, revealing glimpses of their concerned faces.
"What is happening? Is something wrong with my baby?" Alicent asks with a cracking voice.
The maester, his face a mask of calm, hovered close to the newborn, his every movement watched intently by Alicent. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive. Alicent could feel the panic rising in her chest, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
Then, a small and fragile sound broke through the silence—a soft, trembling cry.
Alicent's breath caught in her throat, and tears of relief sprang to her eyes. The midwife turned, a relieved smile breaking across her face as she gently placed the baby in Alicent's waiting arms.
"She's alright, Your Grace, just a quiet one" the midwife whispered, her voice warm with reassurance as she carefully handed the small baby to the tired Queen.
A girl. Alicent thought, a smile on her face. Alicent looked down at her daughter, now in her arms, a wave of overwhelming emotion crashing over her. The baby's eyes were tightly shut, her tiny fists clenched, but she was alive. She was safe.
And in that moment, as the storm raged on outside, Alicent felt a deep, fierce love for the small, delicate life she held in her arms.
As Alicent cradled the tiny, fragile life in her arms, the door to the chamber creaked open, and Viserys stepped inside, his weary face softening as he saw Alicent cradling their newborn daughter. The sight of her, so small and perfect, brought a rare, gentle smile to his lips.
"Alicent," he murmured, crossing the room with deliberate steps, his voice tinged with a mixture of relief and pride. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch reassuring and tender.
"She's a girl," Alicent whispered, her voice still trembling from the intensity of the moment. She looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of disappointment, but found none. Instead, his expression was one of pure affection.
Viserys gazed down at the baby, her tiny face peeking out from the swaddling cloth. The flickering candlelight caught the faintest traces of silver in her hair, the unmistakable mark of Targaryen blood. He smiled softly, reaching out to brush a finger against her cheek.
"She's beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "A true Targaryen princess."
Alicent's heart swelled at his words. Despite all the trials and tribulations, this moment—this tiny life—was a beacon of hope. For a brief moment, all seemed right in the world, as if the storm outside had been tamed by the gentle presence in her arms.
"What shall we name her?" Alicent asked, looking up at him with a gentle smile.
Viserys gazed down at the baby, considering a name that would honor both their heritage and the delicate spirit he saw before him. 'Naerys,' he said softly, as if the name itself held a promise of hope.
Alicent repeated the name quietly, her lips curving into a soft smile. "Naerys," she whispered, feeling the name settle into her heart. It was perfect.
Viserys leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to Alicent's forehead, and then to his newborn daughter. "Welcome to the world, Naerys," he murmured, his voice full of love and promise.
For a fleeting moment, the warmth of the chamber seemed to banish the chill of the storm, as if nothing could touch them in this cocoon of light and love. But outside, the thunder rumbled on, a distant reminder that even in the brightest moments, the shadows of fate loomed ever near.
As Naerys lay nestled in her mother's arms, the warmth of the chamber seemed to push back against the storm outside. Yet, even in this moment of light and love, the shadows of fate loomed, hinting at the trials that would come for this delicate flower.
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"She arrived in the quiet of night, unmarked by the weight of her lineage, a pure soul unknowingly destined for a world that would demand her tears."
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YOU ARE READING
The Blue Princess ☆☽ Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction"Blue flowers bloom in the garden, fragile petals in the breeze, A butterfly dances, unaware of the storm that's coming. Blood will spill in shadows, where laughter fades to cries, The butterfly's wings are clipped, as the blue flower dies."
