May of 81 AC
A loud, piercing cry echoed through the Red Keep. Another Targaryen had been born.
This time, it was Princess Alessa, wife of Prince Baelon, who had given birth. The room was filled with the sterile scent of herbs and freshly cleaned linens, but the atmosphere was alive with excitement and relief. This was the second child for the couple; their first, Viserys, had arrived four years prior.
As the delivery room door swung open, Bellon rushed in without hesitation. The moment he stepped inside, he dropped to one knee beside the bed and took Alessa's trembling hand in his own. His expression was a mixture of admiration, gratitude, and lingering awe at the ordeal she had just endured.
"Alessa," he said softly, his voice filled with emotion, "thank you for giving birth to another child for me. I know it must have been incredibly painful. You were so strong."
Alessa, her body still weak from the labor, tilted her head in acknowledgment, a faint smile playing across her lips. There was exhaustion in her eyes, but also warmth and pride.
"It's a boy," Queen Alysanne said as she stepped forward, following Baelon into the room. She gently took the newborn from the attending midwife and examined him closely. "The family will be lively again," she added, her eyes sparkling with joy.
Alessa's gaze immediately went to the tiny bundle of life in the queen's arms. She leaned forward, whispering to her husband, "Bring him here. I want to see him."
Baelon did not hesitate. Carefully, he took the baby from Queen Alysanne's hands and approached his wife. Unlike the first time he had held a newborn in his arms, he moved with confidence and ease, his posture steady and assured. Gone was the uncertainty that had marked his early days as a father. Now, he was a man fully ready to embrace his role.
King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne watched silently, exchanging knowing glances. The young "Prince of Spring Breeze" had matured into a capable father, and the pride in their eyes was unmistakable.
Alessa, propped up by attending maids, took the baby into her arms. His tiny hands flailed in the air, and he let out a lively cry that seemed to shake the room. Alessa laughed softly.
"This little one is much more spirited than Viserys," she said. "When Viserys was born, he was quiet—so quiet. Only when he drank milk would he cry. He seemed more like a little girl than a boy."
The room erupted with laughter. Even Gaimon, who rarely showed emotion openly, shook his head and smiled. "You can't say that. Viserys may be quiet, but he has the courage and heart of a true boy. Don't underestimate him."
"But this child…" Alessa continued, smiling down at Damon. "He is so lively, even now. Rarely do newborns display such energy. He will certainly grow into a brave knight, I think."
Baelon's chest swelled with pride at his wife's words. "Don't forget whose son he is," he said proudly, his voice full of quiet authority. "How could my son lack courage or strength?"
Aemon, standing nearby, leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Have you chosen a name for him yet?" he asked, voice teasing. "If not, I can help. I have plenty of suggestions."
Baelon met his brother's gaze with a calm, amused smile. "No need," he said. "I have already chosen. He shall be called Daemon. Our generation has Aemon and Gaimon, so the next should have Daemon. It balances nicely, don't you think?"
A small ripple of laughter spread through the room, but not everyone was amused. Gaimon and Aemon exchanged a look, each frowning as if plotting silently.
"Beat him!" Gaimon suddenly roared, and Aemon nodded, a similar gleam of mischief in his eyes. In an instant, the two lunged at Baelon like young boys in a playground scuffle, laughter and shouts filling the delivery room.
Baelon, realizing what was happening, tried to dodge. The scene quickly devolved into chaos. Alessa, holding the newborn safely in her arms, couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle. She began shouting directions, guiding Baelon to safety.
For a moment, the room was filled with joyous noise—laughter, playful shouts, and the occasional protest from Baelon as he dodged his brothers. Even the usually solemn attendants and maids hid behind doors, giving the young men room to unleash their energy.
The playful battle ended abruptly when Alessa cried out sharply, clutching her abdomen. Baelon, his silver hair disheveled, dashed to her side, panic flashing in his eyes.
"Alessa! What is it? Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice trembling with concern.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, taking a deep breath. "I just moved too much… pulled something… but it's nothing serious."
Despite the pain, her voice carried its usual lightness. "Even now, you have no patience for gentleness," she said teasingly. "I gave birth, and yet you still act like a child!"
Queen Alysanne stepped forward, gently pressing a warm woolen cloth to Alessa's forehead, helping wipe away the fine beads of sweat. "You are already a mother now," she said softly. "But no matter how old you are, you will always be my daughter."
Alessa smiled at her mother, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her. In that moment, all her exhaustion seemed to melt away. The familiarity of her mother's care reminded her of childhood, of simpler, safer times.
King Jaehaerys approached as well, taking the small bundle from her arms to examine him more closely. The silk blanket had slipped slightly, revealing the baby's tiny upper body. His skin was fair, soft, and glowing, dotted with faint wisps of golden hair. Though his eyes were closed, his Valyrian features were unmistakable, hinting at the handsomeness he would inherit as he grew.
"Daemon," Jaehaerys said, voice filled with warmth and approval. "A fine name. May you grow to be an indispensable member of the Targaryen family, strong and brave, ready to defend this house, as your forebears have."
The baby, as if understanding the weight of his father's lineage and the king's hopes, cried out again—strong and unwavering. The sound seemed to echo in the room, vibrant and alive, as if he were already claiming his place among the proud history of the Targaryens.
Alessa leaned back against the pillows, finally allowing herself to rest. She gazed at Daemon in her arms, a sense of profound love and responsibility washing over her. This tiny life was the continuation of their legacy, a new thread in the vast tapestry of their family history.
Baelon, still bristling with pride, gently brushed a lock of hair from his son's forehead. His mind raced with thoughts of the future—of lessons to teach, games to play, and the endless love he would pour into this child. And yet, he also thought of the laughter and chaos of the moment before, realizing that even the strongest knights and fiercest warriors began life as vulnerable, spirited children.
Gaimon and Aemon, seeing the peace restored, finally allowed themselves to step back. Even they could not resist smiling at the scene before them: Alessa cradling Daemon, Baelon's watchful gaze, and the pride radiating from Jaehaerys and Alysanne. The delivery room had transformed from a place of tense anticipation into a haven of familial warmth and unrestrained joy.
As the sun filtered through the tall Red Keep windows, bathing the room in golden light, Alessa whispered softly to her son: "Grow strong, Daemon. Be brave, be kind, and carry the spirit of your family with pride."
And as if in response, the baby's tiny fists waved through the air once more, his cries resolute and full of life.
In that moment, the Targaryen lineage was renewed, and the Red Keep echoed with laughter, joy, and the quiet promise of generations to come.
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