#Targaryen children had dragon themed toys!!

[tenthmuseondine]

𖤓Princess Elia of Dorne and her son, Prince Aegon Targaryen 𖤓

[eludin]

THE CROWN'S WHORE | CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: Addiction themes, sexual content, manipulation, dark themes, incest (this is Westeros people), grooming, and possibly more in the future.

The Realm's Delight wasn't Rhaenyra Targaryen once Vyera Waters started walking and talking. She was unaffected by the sexual moments held within the brothel she called home and would often approach the clients without hesitation. The whores around her try to coral her away, but she had her father's stubbornness. She slipped out of their grasp and pestered the clients for their stories since most were knights, children of lords, or lords in general.

She grinned widely and listened with apt attention, easily washing away the agitation they may have had with a bastard brat bothering their fun times. She made cute and sometimes strange noises at certain parts of the story, dramatically reacting at the more messy bits. They laughed at her very open reactions.

The Gold Cloaks quickly turned into regulars, bearing toys, books, and whatever a little princess could wish for. One smile from Vyera and they melted. They proudly told her stories, not only of themselves but also of her father. They listened just as attentively when she shared stories from her dreams; of talking cats whose grins sent a chill down one's spine and who vanished and reappeared before your eyes, hot deserts with horses made from sand threatening to bury you deep within the dunes, or riding the back of a bird the size of a dragon with feathers made of steal.

Ariston Algood smiled as the girl flipped through her new book. Many prayed for the poor girl to be the occasional late bloomer. That was the only thing keeping her from being thrown into the beasts' den.

Just one more day, one more month, one more year without that light that shone from within her being snuffed out by scum who desired to torment and corrupt that light.

Yet, no Gods answered their prayers.

She had bled a day prior and was now dressed in provocative clothing. No longer the baggy rags she used to wore, but a dress made of thin, almost see through, fabric. It looked peculiar on a girl of nine name days. Only the worst of scum would find pleasure in the sight.

"Riz?"

He smiled and patted her head. "Thinking, squirrel."

Vyera rolled her and scowled at the words sprawled on the page. "Dragon, not squirrel." Her words didn't fit her cuteness as she pouted and patted the thick pages. "And you're supposed to be teaching me how to pronounce these words."

Ariston laughed and joined her on the bed. Books with varying thickness surrounded her and most he never cared to read until Vyera. They never seemed all that interesting. It was just words on the page. What good were words when actions could be seen centuries after the person had passed? Yet, she hugged them close as if they were a fine treasure worth more than the gold mines at Casterly Rock. She brightened up at the usual pleasures, like jewels and beautiful dresses and gifts, but books got a loud and vibrant reaction.

She bounced off the walls of the Whore's Blood Brothel with each book, eagerly snatching from any offering hand and pestering the person to read it with her.

Some of the married lords who visited bonded more with her than their own children. "I wish my children had such a hunger for knowledge as you," said the Heir of Blanetree, running his fingers through her locks. She had preened under his touch and giggled, like a dog eager for treats and praises.

Lord Broom sighed, "A whore's daughter knows duty and grace better than my own daughter."

"Such a pity."

None did anything to change her situation; not that the girl complained. She clung to her mother and the brothel as any child would cling to their home and their mother. A year or two more and that opinion would certainly change.

Ariston leaned closer to Vyera and looked over the page. "Where are you finding difficulty understanding?"

"What does this mean?" she taps at the word abomination.

Fuck.

He peaked at the book's name. Just as he thought, it spoke of the Faith. "Uh... Something going against the order of the Gods. Like, um... the... the Children of the Forest with their magic." Sweat gathered at the base of his neck. "Don't you want to read something else?"

Vyera frowned and stared at him. For a Dragonseed, she resembled her father incredibly close yet there were a few traits none knew where they came from. They knew without uncertainty that Narelle of the Whore's Blood was the girl's mother. Yet she carried traits neither side of her lineage granted. Her eyes were golden and flecked with silver. Her canine teeth were ever so slightly pointier and sharper than most. Even as a child, her features were already showing a sharpness no girl her age naturally possessed. Unlike either parent, she possessed an innate glow that simply compelled every man who entered her presence to shower her with gifts, praises, and affection. Some were less pure than others, but she paid little mind to those types.

Her expression softened once she saw whatever there was in his eyes. "No need. Tis' truly fascinating to read how certain sorts of individuals view the world." She paused, and added, "And don't worry about the stuff on bastards. It doesn't hurt me. I know who I am, and I am not everything that is written in this."

"You are none of what is written."

She smiled and pressed against his side. "Riz?"

"Hm?"

Vyera curled up and hugged herself. Instead of the girl he'd grown to care for, a child frightened off the future revealed herself to him. "The brothel master will want me to lose my maidenhead. Doesn't matter I am a child, he's gonna want evidence." She peaked at him through her dense locks. "I don't want it to be any of the others. I care for them, and I know they would never intend to hurt me. I... Please... Please be the first once my moonblood ends. I... I don't want it to be anyone else."

Oh, fuck… She… As much as he gagged at the thought of any of the Lords lusting over Vyera, it made painful sense.

Ariston was not that far in age from her. Only seven namedays apart. It was still strange yet… 

He looked down at the girl who skipped up to him, even when he was running his hands along her mother’s sides. Now that had been mortifying. She smiled widely and rushed him with a hundred different questions. Their second meeting didn’t go any better either. Neither did their third. Yet, she cared for him, eagerly listened to his stories of his home, of his older siblings, of his parents, and now… looked to him for protection from any who wished to destroy whatever innocence she protected with a tiny dagger.

He had no doubt she’d ask any of her other friends the same favor. After all, he couldn’t spend the entire day with her. His pockets did not boast such a fortune. And yet…

“If that is your wish.”

He couldn’t free her from the brothel’s clutches; he couldn’t shower her with luxurious gifts; he couldn’t protect her as he wished. But he could do this.

Vyera Waters smiled. A waning moon in comparison to the usual exuberance.

Want to be tagged? Comment down below "AYE"

@sanya-prose

@gpr2149

@prettylittlelady

@thirteenth-fangirl

@daughterofadream

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

One day before the funeral of Jaehaerys. The little body of the lost babe had also been sent to the Sept to be viewed by mourners before the following day, when both bodies would be cremated by the Kings dragon, Sunfyre, on a cliff at the Kingswood. It was a service Maera could not wait for to be over, in order to seek some closure and attempt to move forward in her life.

All members of the royal family were expected to attend the cremation. Helaena was getting frequent visits from Maester Orwyle and seemed able to attend, given she had adequate pain relief to cope with the after effects of losing her child. She was still refusing visitors and, while her screaming fits had ceased, she returned to spending most of her time staring out of the window, muttering to herself as tears streamed down her face.

Even Daeron, the youngest Targaryen brother, would be returning to Kings Landing on dragon-back for the funeral, yet only for a day as his dragon, Tessarion, was a formidable tool in the war effort. What Maera thought was strange was that the children, two year old Maelor and four year old Jaehaera, despite their recent trauma, would also be expected to attend. Maera was sure this was another political ploy from the Hand, but daren’t say anything to the other members of the family.

Hearing reports from her spies, Maera was relieved to know updates about her niece and nephew. Two-year-old Maelor seemed to be recovering swiftly, perhaps due to his young age which shielded him from comprehending the gravity of the situation. Despite being noted as more restless in the evenings, he returned to his usual playful self during the day, seemingly undeterred by the recent events.

In contrast, four-year-old Jaehaera was navigating her recovery differently. The trauma had left a deeper impact on her, rendering her mute and diminishing her appetite. Even her favorite toys and the attempts of her nursery maids couldn't coax a response from her. The profound effects of the ordeal lingered in the silence that enveloped her, creating a stark contrast to the lively and expressive child she once was.

Maera, deeply concerned for Jaehaera's well-being, observed a worrying parallel between the little girl's withdrawal and her mother, Helaena. Seeing Jaehaera cutting herself off from the world ignited a determination in Maera to prevent the child from succumbing to inner demons that echoed her mother's struggles. With a resolute mindset, Maera chose to spend the morning with Jaehaera, determined to coax her out of her shell and ensure that history didn't repeat itself.

On that cloudy autumn day, the beach took on a muted, tranquil ambiance. The sand stretched along the shoreline, softened by the overcast sky. Low tide revealed intricate patterns in the wet sand, remnants of the sea's gentle retreat. In the distance, beach caves stood, their dark openings hinting at hidden mysteries within. The waves, subdued by the season, whispered as they lapped against the shore, producing a soothing melody that echoed along the coastline. The cloudy sky cast a gentle, diffused light, painting the scene with a subdued palette of grays and blues, creating an atmosphere of calm contemplation on the deserted beach.

Maera walked beside little Jaehaera, with a cluster of guards not far behind them, the two figures moving in tandem along the cloudy autumn beach. Holding the small girl's hand, Maera felt a sense of silent companionship. Even though Jaehaera remained reticent, Maera found solace in the fact that the child had agreed to spend this time together. Both were dressed in black mourning dresses that billowed slightly in the breeze, and light cloaks shielded them from the chill of the windy beachfront. The somber attire mirrored the heavy emotions that lingered, yet the quiet unity between them became a source of mutual support amidst the echoes of grief.

Looking back at their footprints in the sand, Maera found the walk to be a healing balm for herself as well. The recent traumatic events, witnessing Jaehaerys' lifeless body and Helaena's heartbreaking loss of the baby, had left her in a state of disarray. Her appetite waned, and the burden of fatigue settled heavily in her muscles. Mood swings, oscillating between fleeting moments of happiness and deep depression, cast a shadow over her usual resilience.

Being near the sea, with the rhythmic sounds of the waves, brought a sense of comfort to Maera. The familiarity of the beach and the reminder of her home in the Rainwood became a source of solace amidst the storm of emotions. The walk along the shoreline provided a quiet respite, a moment for Maera to breathe and find some grounding in the midst of the turmoil that had disrupted the fabric of her usual self.

“Look at the seashells, Jaehaera,” Maera pointed to a collection of shells scattered along the sand. “Do you think we can find one with a little crab inside?”

Jaehaera stayed silent, her gaze fixed on the sand. Unperturbed, Maera continued, “And what about those seabirds? They are so high up in the sky, they look like they could be dragons, don’t they?”

The child remained silent, her eyes flitting between the sand and the distant waves as Maera tried to reach her once again. “Do you like the ocean, Jaehaera? I always find it soothing. It reminds me of my home in Rainwood, and when I was a little girl.”

Jaehaera kept her silence, but Maera didn’t let it dampen her spirits. Undeterred, Maera decided to share a piece of her own story, hoping it might resonate with the little girl.

"You know, Jaehaera," Maera began softly, "when I was just about your age, I lost my two older twin brothers." She paused, observing the child's reaction. Jaehaera's eyes flickered with curiosity as she looked up at Maera. Sensing a spark of engagement, Maera continued, "Laethan and Vaeron. They were a year older than me. We used to play by the beach near Rain House, just like you and I are doing now.”

Jaehaera looked up at Maera, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. Maera went on, “They got sick, sweet girl. A terrible illness called the pox took them away. It was just after my mother had died as well.” The weight of the memories lingered in Maera’s gaze, but she pressed on, sensing a connection forming between them.

Jaehaera’s attention remained fixed on Maera, the silence now a bridge between them rather than a barrier. “It was a difficult time, but I still remember them. When I walk by the sea, I think of them. The sound of the waves, the salty breeze, it is as if they are with me, watching over."

Jaehaera's gaze remained fixed on Maera, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Maera gently touched Jaehaera's shoulder and spoke gently, "I know you miss Jaehaerys, sweet one. And that is okay. You may find something that reminds you of him, something that will make you smile when you think of him."

Their steps continued along the beach, the rhythmic sound of waves providing a backdrop to the shared moment between Maera and the little girl, both carrying the weight of their losses in their own way.

The pair had ended up on the far side of the shore, near a collection of rocks and caves. Yet Maera found herself drawn to the largest one.The sea cave, carved by the relentless tides, possessed a natural grandeur. Its entrance arched like a gaping maw, revealing the hidden depths within. The jagged rocks surrounding the cave bore witness to the ceaseless dance between the sea and the shore. As Maera and Jaehaera neared, Maera noticed a small group of dragon-keepers gathered near the cave. Their attire and equipment hinted at their profession, with a large stick in hand, sturdy leathers and weathered cloaks designed for the challenges of handling dragons.

Among the group, Maera recognized Vovnik, one of the dragon-keepers she had encountered before, when Ēbrion was first discovered to be residing in the network of sea caves. Vovnik, with a seasoned understanding of dragon behavior, had also deduced that Ēbrion must have dwelled within the caves for an extended period. The dragon’s choice to remain hidden was attributed to its size, similar to Vhagar, which would have drawn attention if it ventured beyond the shadows of the caves.

The dragon had departed from its island home for reasons unknown, now choosing to linger on the shoreline of the Capital. The dragon-keepers closely monitored Ēbrion, a wild dragon with little trust for human interaction. His unpredictable nature had led to fatal encounters, as he had killed a few keepers and injured many more.

As the princesses approached the dragon-keeper elder, he executed a deep bow of respect, causing Maera to smile, still unused to such formality.

“Imastan se dyni nykeēdrosa ruartan ao, Vovnik?”Does the beast still evade you, Vovnik? she asked with a playful smile.

Vovnik, with a weathered face marked by the rigors of his trade, rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Nyke emagon dōrī rhēdan nykeā ziksos zaldrīzes. Ziry jāhor kirine gūrogon se havor īlon maghan yn daor he nykeā gūrēntan isse bodmagho rȳ ry,” I have never encountered such a stubborn dragon. It will happily take the food we provide but does not show an interest in training at all, he grumbled, gesturing towards the sea cave where Ēbrion, the wild dragon, resided.

Maera couldn’t help but giggle. In truth, she had become quite taken with the beast. She was fascinated when she first spotted him arriving on the beach many moons ago, but since coming face to face with him, her curiosity had only grown. She felt a deep sense of empathy toward Ēbrion, recognizing the drastic shift from a solitary life to constant exposure to humans. The dragon, seemingly alone in its newfound environment, had forged a unique connection with Vhagar, a companion of similar size. And even then, Maera had observed their relationship blow hot and cold.

Despite the unpredictability and potential danger, Maera found herself charmed by the magnificent beast. Her Targaryen bloodline, coupled with the stories her mother often shared about dragons, had kindled a fascination within her. Maera had noticed Ēbrion's appearances during times of stress, such as her wedding day, and felt a sense of gratitude for the unexpected omen. It was an odd feeling. Although unfamiliar with this peculiar sense of reassurance, Maera found solace in the majestic creature’s presence, a silent companion in moments of upheaval.

“Nyke olvie qūvyr syt zirȳla. Lo nyke ēdan nykeā lyka glaeson gōvilirion se rhaenagon nykēla qrillāettan ondoso ābrar nyke, daor sagon biare iā.” I feel quite sorry for him. If I had a peaceful life underground and suddenly found myself surrounded by people I found irritating, I would not be happy either. Maera proposed, smiling down at Jaehaera, who was still tightly clutched at her hand.

Vovnik sighed, a grizzled expression on his face. “Skoros ziry jorrāelagon iksos nykeā kipagīros, nykeā letagon. Mirtys qilōni kostagon gūrēñis zirȳla. Lo nykeā issaros issarys, pōnta līs sagon nykeā sētan naejot sagon pālegon rūsīr.” What he needs is a rider, a bond. Someone who can tame him. If such a person exists, they must be a force to be reckoned with indeed.

As Maera hummed in response to Vovnik’s words, the ground beneath them began to quake. The tremors intensified, revealing the unmistakable pattern of giant footsteps. A deep, low roar reverberated through the walls of the sea cave’s entrance, echoing ominously. Jaehaera clutched onto Maera’s skirts, seeking refuge from the unexpected tumult. Maera’s heart, however, beat with a mix of anticipation and excitement as the source of the disturbance became apparent.

Out of the darkness within the sea cave, Ēbrion emerged with a breathtaking grandeur. His colossal head, adorned with large horns, rose into view, framed by the ominous darkness behind him. The orange glow of his eyes held a hypnotic intensity, a stark contrast to the deep blue and black scales that adorned his majestic form. His impressive teeth and the sheer enormity of his presence created a surreal tableau against the backdrop of the cave’s shadows.

The dragon-keepers hastened to the Princesses' sides as the colossal figure of Ēbrion loomed overhead. However, to their surprise, Maera calmly gestured for them to remain composed. In that moment, an unspoken assurance seemed to envelop her, dispelling any immediate sense of threat.

The dragon's massive pupils expanded, resembling the vast expanse of the night sky, suggesting a state of relaxation. A plume of smoke billowed from his nostrils as Ēbrion snorted, and then, in a surprisingly gentle gesture, he lowered his head right in front of Maera. Murmurs of uncertainty spread among the dragon-keepers as they observed this unusual interaction.

“Shhh, lykirī Ēbrion,” Maera cooed, her green eyes sparkling with wonder at the beast before here. Remarkably, the dragon began emanating soft bellows from his chest, akin to the purring of a cat.

Undeterred, Maera extended her hand to the dragon's snout, just above his mouth. The dragon's scales, as smooth as ivory and radiating heat, met her touch. Grinning, Maera petted the colossal beast, using the same hand that had once revealed her blood to him. As Maera looked down at Jaehaera, she discovered the little girl’s purple eyes wide with excitement and a small, budding smile gracing her lips. This sight filled Maera’s heart with a hopeful warmth for the child.

She tilted her head in curiosity before asking Jaehaera, “Would you like to touch him?” In response, the four-year-old nodded eagerly. Maera, with a careful yet tender touch, lifted Jaehaera into her arms, cradling her on her hip. Joining their hands together, Maera guided Jaehaera’s small hand to rest on the smooth surface of Ēbrion’s nose.

In response, the mighty dragon blinked slowly, an expression of profound contentment. The tranquility that emanated from him enveloped the Princesses in a serene moment. Maera couldn’t help but smile down at Jaehaera, whose rosy cheeks bore witness to the happiness that had blossomed within her.

As Maera enjoyed the moment of connection with her niece and the dragon, she noticed a hushed conversation in the background. Vovnik and the other dragon-keepers were engaged in a murmured exchange in High Valyrian. Straining to hear, Maera turned to ask Vovnik about it, but before she could, a soft voice reached her ears.

"He’s so warm," Jaehaera spoke, the words carrying a sweet melody that had been absent for a week. The sound of her niece’s voice brought tears to Maera's eyes, and she fought to keep her composure.

"Yes he is, Jaehaera," Maera said, a joyous smile breaking across her face. She refrained from mentioning the significance of Jaehaera's spoken words, not wanting to put too much pressure on the child.

Deciding to redirect their focus, Maera suggested, "Come. Shall we head back to the Keep and tell Maelor about our encounter with the difficult dragon?" The little girl nodded, prompting Maera to set her down and gently take her hand, cherishing the newfound connection between them as they began their journey back.

“It was lovely to hear her voice again, after so long. And that she felt safe enough with me to speak,” Maera expressed to Aemond, who sat opposite her in their chambers as they shared lunch together. The table hosted an array of dishes included savory pies, roasted meats, and various side dishes. However, Maera’s plate held only a simple barley soup, a testament to her persistent lack of appetite.

The time she had spent with their niece was shared with her husband, a bright smile across her face. Maera’s green eyes lit up as she recounted the details of the encounter with Ēbrion, the joyous revelation seeming to temporarily lift the weight that had hung over them since Jaehaerys’ death.

Aemond, finishing chewing his food before he spoke, raised an eyebrow. “I am surprised you took her to the beach, given how things have been of late.”

Maera took in the sight of him as she slowly placed a spoonful of soup into her mouth. His silver hair cascaded over his broad shoulders, framing his strong features with an air of rugged elegance. His remaining violet eye remained intensely focussed on her with a quiet attentiveness, his sharp jawline and chiseled features conveyed a sense of strength and determination.

Maera, her smile turning melancholic, replied with a sad glint in her eyes, “It is where I feel close to my family. I thought Jaehaera might find comfort there too.”

Aemond considered this for a moment before commenting, “Seems like she was quite taken with Ēbrion, from your story.”

Maera nodded, “Yes, I thought it might be a positive experience for her. Jaehaerys always said he would claim Ēbrion when he was alive. I suppose seeing the beast gave her a chance to be close with her twin once more.”

The One-Eyed Prince simply hummed in response, placing a forkful of food gracefully into his mouth. Despite the stoic exterior, there was a subtle warmth in his gaze as he engaged with Maera, creating a comforting atmosphere in the midst of their shared meal.

Swallowing a mouthful of food, Aemond suggested, "Perhaps Jaehaera could one day claim the dragon for herself."

Humming in response, Maera contemplated Aemond's idea while taking a sip of ginger tea. After a moment of reflection, she spoke with determination, "I want to strike while the iron is hot, make sure Jaehaera does not retreat back into her shell." In a sudden burst of inspiration, Maera's eyes lit up. "I could show her my sketchbook of Ēbrion," she said out loud, a plan forming in her mind.

Eager to put it into action, Maera rose from the table with swift determination. However, as she stood, a sudden dizziness overcame her. Desperately grasping at the table edge to steady herself, she accidentally knocked a glass onto the floor, the sound of shattering glass echoing in the chambers. Aemond quickly rose from his seat and rushed to her side, concern etched on his face.

Despite his protective gesture, Maera, in her stubbornness, gently batted him away, insistence in her voice. “I’m fine.”

A frustrated groan escaped Aemond’s lips. “You have been like this since Jaehaerys’ death,” he remarked, his worry evident.

Maera, ever defiant, argued, “It is just shock.”

Aemond countered, “Not like any shock I have seen before.”

With a playful grin, Maera teased, “What do you know about shock, husband?” Her attempt at humor, however, was met with a stern silence from Aemond. Unfazed, Maera reached for the water across the table, sipping it to ease the tension in the air.

As Maera set down the glass, Aemond's concern deepened. "You need to see the Maester," he insisted.

Maera shook her head defiantly, stating, "I will not."

Aemond, standing in front of her, took charge, grasping her chin roughly and tipping her head back to look at him. "This is not a request," he stated sternly, his authority cutting through the air.

Maera couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at his commanding presence. Tilted her head, she asked flirtatiously, "Is this my Prince's command?"

Aemond, not wanting to show any vulnerability, but also not immune to her charm, gave her a subtle smile and a nod. Maera, still playful, stated with a smirk, "Fine. But it will be a waste of time."

Maera decided to visit Maester Orwyle in his chambers, considering his hands were likely full with tending to the Queen's needs. She reasoned that summoning him for what she believed were mere symptoms of shock would be an unnecessary diversion of his time.

Entering the Maester's chambers, Maera found herself surrounded by an array of medical bottles and scrolls, neatly organized on shelves. The room was equipped with a sturdy table, presumably for examinations and treatments, while a small bed hinted at the occasional need for medical examinations and rest. The air carried the distinct scent of herbs and potions, creating an ambiance that spoke of the Maester's dedication to his craft.

Maester Orwyle, with his meticulous concern, had Maera seated in his chambers, questioning her about various aspects of her health. The inquiry covered her diet, appetite, and the amount of sleep she managed to get. His probing also extended to matters of intimacy with her husband, which elicited a smile from Maera as she assured him there were no issues on that front.

However, when the Maester broached the topic of Moon's Blood, Maera couldn't help but be momentarily perplexed. With the whirlwind of events since her marriage, she had inadvertently neglected to pay attention to her monthly cycle. Spottings here and there following the wedding were the extent of her awareness on the matter.

“Forgive me, Maester Orwyle. So much has happened… I cannot remember much about dates or how long I bled for,” Maera admitted with a tinge of sadness to her voice.

The Maester gave her a sympathetic smile. “That is understandable, Princess. I would still like to examine you, if I have your permission.”

“Is that necessary?” She asked defensively.

“Illness and symptoms can manifest in any part of the body,” Orwyle replied.

Reluctantly, Maera agreed to lie back on the bed, attempting to divert her thoughts away from the impending invasive examination. The Maester, with a professional demeanor, conducted the necessary examination, and seemed to hum with surprise and confirmation, before withdrawing his hand from her. Once the procedure was concluded, Maera sat up, smoothing down her black skirts with impatience and a hint of apprehension.

“Well? What is it, Maester? Is it serious? I thought it was just shock?” Maera enquired with a mix of eagerness and fear, hoping for some clarity on her current state of health.

The Maester wiped his hand on a nearby cloth before meeting her gaze directly. “It is quite simple, Princess Maera. You are with child.”

Notes: Ahhh I couldn’t keep this to myself any longer. I’ve been dropping subtle hints since they got married but it’s time to make it official! Fun fact; all the symptoms mentioned where all the symptoms I had in my first pregnancy 🖤

Tags: @blue-serendipity @0eessirk8 @shesjustanothergeek @marvelescvpe @manipulatixe @watercolorskyy @abecerra611 (welcome to the club)

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤