𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 - 𝑰𝒗𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔

44

A week had passed. Daenaera was heavily pregnant—ready to give birth at any moment. The princess loathed being confined within the castle walls. Rhaenyra had strictly ordered the guards and maesters never to let her leave.

The only time Daenaera found peace was when she was with her dragon, Sylvarion. The great beast screeched in happiness the moment he saw his rider, sensing the same strange emotions swirling between them.

"Nyke jāhor tepagon sikagon naejot nykeā rūs aderī, issa valonqar. Nyke sȳz."
(I will give birth to a babe soon, my boy. I am fine.)

She patted his cool, shimmering scales and spent the remainder of the day beside him.

⸻

On the morrow, Princess Daenaera gave birth to her son. The labor was long, exhausting, and difficult—but she was overjoyed to finally meet him.

The prince was born with unmistakable Valyrian features: silver hair, pale skin, and piercing blue eyes that mirrored his father's striking gaze.

"My dear son," she whispered softly, tracing delicate patterns on his small cheek. "A true Targaryen prince."

Later that morning, her cousin's sons, Jacaerys and Joffrey, arrived alongside Baela and Rhaena to meet the youngest member of the family.

"What is his name?" Rhaena asked, settling near Daenaera's bedside.

"This is Maegor," Daenaera replied with a gentle smile. Baela moved to her other side.

"May I hold him?" Baela asked quietly. Daenaera nodded.

"Just hold his neck tight," Daenaera instructed as she carefully handed over her son's tiny body.

Baela's curly hair brushed her cheek as she cradled him, her face lighting with a wide smile. "He's so tiny and adorable."

The children stayed as long as they pleased, but after some time, Daenaera's handmaiden Selene entered.

"Maegor must rest, my dears, and so must the princess. Would you mind leaving them in my care?" Selene asked with a warm smile.

Rhaena nodded, and the children quietly left without another word.

⸻

Daenaera sat to write a letter to Hvitserk while Selene insisted on holding the babe a little longer.

"He is perfect, Princess," the handmaiden murmured, hugging Maegor's tiny form gently.

Daenaera smiled, replying, "Yes, he is."

As the silver-haired princess continued writing, Selene hesitated before speaking.

"If you don't mind me asking... What happened to Maegor's father?" she inquired softly, careful not to upset her mistress.

Daenaera paused, caught off guard, but answered steadily.

"Maegor's father preferred the company of another woman and her child instead of his own. The rest is as unknown to you as it is to me."

Finishing the letter, Daenaera prepared to send it, knowing Hvitserk would be overjoyed to hear the news.

⸻

Dear Hvitserk,

I apologize for the late reply. I have great news to share—you are now an uncle.

I have given birth to a son, a true prince of the Targaryen dynasty. Maegor has been given his dragon egg, which hatched the very day he was born. We await the day he will name his dragon, which is grey with golden scales.

Maegor has silver hair and pale skin like me but shares the striking blue eyes of his father...

He is perfect. I don't know when I will be able to introduce you, but I'm sure you will love him.

⸻

Two days later, a letter arrived from Dragonstone. Hvitserk smiled quietly as he read it alone, but the smile drew the attention of his brother, Ivar. Hvitserk was not the type to spend time reading or writing letters.

"What's so funny, huh, brother?" Ivar asked, eyeing the grin on Hvitserk's face.

"And why do you care so much?" Hvitserk replied with an eyebrow raised, amused.

"I don't care," Ivar said, taking a slow sip from his mead horn.

"You do. If you didn't, you wouldn't bother to ask." Hvitserk handed the letter across.

"What is this?" Ivar scoffed, scanning the paper. His blue eyes widened in disbelief—a child? With striking blue eyes? Could it be his?

He parted his lips, but no words came. The thought unsettled him deeply.

"Did she say if he's mine?" Ivar finally whispered, voice low.

"She didn't mention that. Only that he's silver-haired, has a dragon, and is a true Targaryen prince," Hvitserk replied calmly.

"She said he had blue eyes," Ivar pressed.

"Many in her family do," Hvitserk shrugged, unconvinced.

Ivar's jaw clenched, rage flickering in his eyes. Daenaera was his wife—how could she be with another? The thought consumed him.

"She's still married to me. Watch your tongue," he snarled.

"Oh, so the thought of Daenaera moving on drives you mad?" Hvitserk said with a knowing grin. "She was the best thing to happen to you, but your own foolishness cost you your family."

Hvitserk saw the fire in Ivar's eyes but pressed on:

"Now, your heir grows inside a castle far away, while you were busy trusting the untrustworthy."