The Girl of Salt and Fire | HOTD

Chapter 1: The Birth of Alysanne: The Realm's Sun

The birthing chamber was thick with tension, the air heavy with the mingling scents of sweat, blood, and fear. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen lay exhausted on the bed, her body ravaged by the long and grueling labor she had just endured. Her firstborn son, Jacaerys, had entered the world a year ago, was playing on the floor in the room. A growing pool of blood beneath Rhaenyra's still form had drawn worried glances from the midwives, who worked tirelessly to save both mother and child.

Rhaenyra's breaths came in ragged gasps, her face ashen, her consciousness hanging by a thread. Yet, she knew her ordeal was far from over. The midwife, a seasoned woman whose face bore the marks of countless births, leaned close, her voice firm but gentle.

"Keep breathing, Princess," she urged. "You must push again."

Rhaenyra's glazed eyes met the midwife's. "I can't," she gasped, her strength nearly spent. "I've nothing left."

"You must," the midwife insisted, the urgency in her voice impossible to ignore. "One more push, my lady."

With a cry that seemed to tear from the very depths of her soul, Rhaenyra gathered the last vestiges of her strength and bore down one final time. The room seemed to hold its breath, the seconds stretching into painful eternity until, at last, the baby emerged, silent and still. The midwife caught the child, her heart sinking as the newborn remained eerily quiet.

Rhaenyra, her head lolling to the side, opened her eyes with difficulty. "Is she...?" Her voice was barely a whisper, fear gripping her heart.

The midwife quickly wiped the infant clean, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. But then, in the stillness, the baby opened her eyes—large, violet eyes that shone with the unmistakable brilliance of Valyrian blood. A soft gasp of relief escaped the midwife's lips as the baby curled her mouth into a small, quiet smile.

"She's alive," the midwife announced, her voice filled with astonishment.

The baby did not cry, but her eyes sparkled with a gentleness that seemed almost otherworldly. Rhaenyra let out a shuddering breath, tears of relief welling in her eyes. "My daughter..."

At that moment, the door to the chamber burst open, and King Viserys, who had been anxiously waiting outside, rushed in, followed closely by Ser Laenor Velaryon. Both men had been on edge, fearing the worst after hearing of the difficult labor.

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys cried out, his voice thick with emotion as he hurried to his daughter's side.

Rhaenyra looked up at her father, her face still pale but glowing with maternal pride. "Father," she whispered, "meet your granddaughter."

Viserys approached cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. He had seen many newborns in his life, each one precious, but something about this moment felt different. As he drew closer, his breath caught in his throat. The child, cradled in Rhaenyra's arms, was looking up at him with those impossibly large, violet eyes—eyes that seemed to hold the light of the entire realm within them.

For a moment, the King could only stare, struck by the serene beauty of the newborn. The baby's skin was warm honey, her hair already showing the telltale signs of Valyrian silver, and her gaze was as calm and deep as the ancient seas of Old Valyria.

Viserys's eyes welled with tears, and he reached out a trembling hand to gently touch his granddaughter's cheek. The baby responded with a soft coo, her tiny fingers curling around one of his, and in that instant, the King felt as though the sun itself had burst forth into the room, chasing away all shadows.

"She is the sun," Viserys whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "The realm's sun."

The midwives exchanged glances, their hearts warmed by the King's words. They had feared the worst during the birth, but now, witnessing this moment, it was as if a great weight had been lifted from the room. The child, with her gentle presence, had already brought light into the world.