THE HEIR AND THE WOLF

i. the dear daughter

"At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren."

Fire & Blood, Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros, by Archmaester Gyldayn

Once her first labours finally come to an end, Rhaenyra Targaryen finds herself blessed with a daughter: a small child with fair eyes and white hair, that in the years would become the only babe actually sired by her husband, Laenor Velaryon.

Rhaenyra watches with enamoured eyes as you latch onto her breast, suckling any milk you can get; your eyes are of a misty lilac, like hers once were, and as you look up at her, she's sure she has never felt a thing like this before. She's a mother now, she's what Aemma once was to her, and she feels like she's getting back a small piece of her mother as she brushes the small tuft of white hair upon your head.

"Aren't you the sweetest little thing?" Laenor, head laid upon her shoulder to have a better look, says. As you sleepily close your eyes, he nudges the hand that lays on Rhaenyra's chest to seek a reaction from you, who in return wraps the entirety of your small palm around his index finger — not even managing to cover it all. By the look on his face, your mother knows that he is holding himself back from squealing.

They both know you're the only child they will ever have together. The months before your conception were made of dreadful nights, tears of frustration and awkward moments, so when Rhaenyra finally came to be with child they both took a relieved breath, and swore they would never lie together ever again. Rhaenyra, though, knows you probably won't be her last; it's expected of her to have more than one child, and if Laenor can't give that to her, she's going to seek that from someone else. He knows, they've talked about it, and he sees no problem with it; all children birthed by Rhaenyra are going to be legitimised, and he will be treating them as if they were his.

But you're the only one that's going to be his. The blood of his blood. Ours runs thick.

Rhaenyra, with the last forces left to her, delicately hoists you from her chest to give you to your father. "Why don't you hold her?"

Laenor flushes, embarrassed, maybe not feeling ready for this moment. "Oh– I– I..."

Despite his initial scepticism, he rests his back on the headboard, getting in a sitting position and undoing the laces of his blouse, as the maester has said that placing a babe on naked skin should calm and comfort them. So he carefully places you on his chest, and your head sits right above his heart, held and caressed gently by his hands.

She was not born out of love, Rhaenyra thinks, but that shall not make her feel less loved by any means.

Your dragon hatches in your cradle barely a sennight after your birth, just like every Targaryen worthy of their name, and your mother lovingly names her Merrax as she gives her to the dragon keepers to feed and train until you are old enough to bond with and claim her.

Two moons after your birth, a feast is held in your honour, so that Rhaenyra manages to recover from her labours to participate and everyone that is invited can make sure to attend. Neither your mother nor Laenor are happy about it, as they would rather spend their time coddling and holding you in their arms, but Viserys is just too ecstatic about his first granddaughter — cooing and showing her around the castle, introducing the babe to anyone who will listen — so they indulge for his sake, and figure that letting him parade you around for just a night won't hurt anyone. They surely didn't think they'd have to thank a hundred lords and ladies for the gifts they brought to their firstborn for two hours straight.