Chapter Text
Everything about him was perfect. Rhaenyra couldn't explain the hurricane of feelings swimming through her, but she knew that she wanted to feel them forever.
♡♡♡♡
It was her duty as a future ruler to birth heirs. When she had grumbled at her father's insistence that she settle down, he told her that he only asked her to fulfill her duty so early in her life because she was in line to be a ruler. A ruler needed heirs—especially a unique case like her: a female ruler.
But now, as she held her most prized possession in the world, the first thing that came to her mind wasn't an heir, a crown, or duty. It was love; pure, unadulterated love in human form.
Unsurprisingly, she had feared this day for years. The dread began the moment she "flowered" and received the dreary lecture about the parts and mechanisms of the female body, as well as what was deemed proper and improper about it.
She had hoped she could live a life without bearing children. The seed was planted in her mind when her cousin, Jeyne Arryn, told her of a secret plan to never marry and never have children. Rhaenyra never thought that was an option until then, but that long dream was squashed as the years went by and her status shifted from Princess to Crown Princess.
Watching her mother, Queen Aemma, grapple with the physical demands of pregnancy and the harrowing emotional scars of loss gave young Rhaenyra pause. How could the whole world expect her to do this as if it wasn't the most awful thing in the world? When she lost her mother in the child-bed, Rhaenyra believed that the moment she pushed a child out, she too would be pushed into the cold, unmerciful hands of death.
But despite it all, here she was, holding her very own baby. Born of her womb, her blood, and her tears. Her perfect prince. A living, breathing babe in swaddling clothes who would one day call her mother. How did I do it? How did I not die? Rhaenyra would never stop asking herself those questions for the rest of her life.
It was funny how even though she was weak and tired, she felt an excitement course through her body—a buzz that made her want to get up from her bed and show her baby to the whole wide world. In due time, she thought, she would take her baby everywhere: to the Dragonpit, to the Small Council, and to the skies. Her son would never leave her side.
Her labour had been dramatic, to say the least. Just a few days prior, she had dragged Laenor by the collar of his doublet and barked that he had to fly into the city and fetch his mother because of what she thought were her impending labours. The only thing was… it wasn’t.
Laenor didn't know that. He barged into a soirée his mother was attending in Balerion's Square like a madman. All the highborn ladies in attendance were scandalized, though they were secretly happy they attended to witness what they thought was the making of history. Turns out, it was only heartburn—at least, that’s what Rhaenyra sheepishly told Laenor and Rhaenys when they caught her on her way to the Dragonpit later.
Rhaenyra stressed Laenor even more when she insisted she could make it down to the throne room despite his disapproval. That bit her in the ass. The seats had been taken out to wash and dry, meaning court was being held standing. Rhaenyra just bit her tongue and endured it because she was proud; she didn't want to give Laenor the satisfaction of asking for help when her tummy felt heavier than usual and her feet were on the verge of exploding.
Luckily, her father had been watching her from the Iron Throne and barked at his Kingsguard to get her a seat. Alicent tried to make a statement in front of the court about how she had given birth just months before and hadn't made a fuss. Rhaenyra wanted to roll her eyes, but she refrained because the full court was watching. It was very typical of Alicent to turn any form of suffering into a tourney just so she could declare herself the winner.
Viserys ignored Alicent and simply climbed down from the Iron Throne to ask Rhaenyra to sit. Soft gasps were heard throughout the hall—that simply didn't happen—but the King refused to sit while his heavily pregnant daughter stood. Rhaenyra tried to decline, but he insisted. Alicent protested, to absolutely no one's surprise, but Viserys tuned her out.
When Rhaenyra finally sat on the Iron Throne, every eye in the room came alive. The sight of the Princess seated on the blades with the King doting on her by the steps was prophetic and dreamy. It was such a nice moment until the most dreaded thing happened: the waters of Rhaenyra's womb burst upon the Iron Throne.
A pop was heard, a gush of warm water went down her legs, and then… a whole lot of commotion. Although the hall went shockingly still for a few seconds as everyone processed what was happening, till Rhaenyra clutched her belly in alarm. That was when the frenzy started.
Laenor was about to panic like a headless chicken before he focused and took hold of Rhaenyra, who had rejected every Kingsguard her father called to assist her. Laenor paused his own unraveling to carry her down from the throne, and he would have the battle scars to show for it—Rhaenyra dug her nails into him as the first contraction pierced through her body.
King Viserys dismissed the court, yet the majority of the people lingered because it wasn't every day the court was that theatric. History was being made; the heir of the Heir was about to be born. It took a wave of knights filling the hall to finally get the court to disperse and give Rhaenyra her privacy.
Someone shouted, "The baby came the moment she sat the Iron Throne! A true future Queen carrying a future King indeed!” The sentiment was quickly echoed by other courtiers even as they were forced out of the hall.
Viserys was screaming bloody murder in his own panic, even going as far as kicking a knight on the bottom for not running fast enough. One would think the knight moonlighted as a midwife or something. As expected, Mellos tried to get close to Rhaenyra, even though she hadn't consulted him once during her pregnancy. Rhaenyra screamed with all her might when Mellos insisted on staying, until Laenor unsheathed his sword.
Laenor was a calm and sweet man, but it was unwise to test him. Mellos found out the hard way when Laenor’s palm clamped around his throat and the blade of his sword kissed the Maester's chin. “I am the Grand Maester,” Mellos choked out but Laenor's voice was predatory when he said “You will become the former Grand Maester if you do not give my wife the distance she requires”
Alicent saw a side to Laenor she hadn't seen before and screamed about “unfounded violence,” but everyone was focused on more important things, such as getting the Princess to the birthing chambers. Even in labour, Rhaenyra thought Alicent was moronic to think she could command any knight to disarm Laenor—the Prince Consort, the father of the babe, and a dragon in his own right.
With Mellos out of the way, Laenor sent his squire to call upon the Velaryon knights, his parents, and Rhaenys’s handpicked midwives. When the midwives finally arrived, Rhaenyra felt safer, though it did not stop her from shouting that this was her last day on earth. Viserys went pale and looked ready to vomit each time he heard her through the door.
Thankfully, some very loud hours later, Rhaenyra put her father out of his misery when she finally stopped screaming. Surrounded by her aunt Rhaenys, her aunt Amanda, her husband Laenor, her dearest cousin Laena, and her trusted ladies, Rhaenyra's big, fat, and beautiful angel was placed in her arms.
He was named Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.