Chapter Text
Daelon loves his daughter very much and does not trust the masters of the red castle at all. That's why when her time of giving birth began to approach, he brought with him midwives from the Valey. Women who have already given birth will understand a woman in labor better than a man. It is a pity that when Amanda gave birth, he did not even think about it. Perhaps if he had understood it, she would still be alive. Perhaps then Aemma would have a mother figure. Perhaps...
The man shook his head, dismissing such thoughts. Perhaps, but it's just a suggestion.
In any case, Daelon was not mistaken in his distrust of the maesters. Maester Mellos offered to dissect his daughter like a fish. And if it hadn't been for the midwives he'd given the right to talk to, the fool Viserys would probably have agreed to the maester's suggestion and Aemma would have died. Fortunately, this did not happen and will not happen. He'd be damned if he'd let that happen.
Aemma had a little son, pale, with red eyes. But alive. They were both alive, which was a relief to the man's heart. However, Mellos was nervously glancing at Ser Otto, who was smiling but had his hands clenched into fists.
"They're both strange." — the prince thought, and turned back to his daughter.
Aemma was tired, pale, and clinging to his sleeve.
— Papa...
She didn't need to say anything else; he knew what his little girl wanted, and he would give it to her. Just as he always did. Viserys left, carrying his precious heir in his arms, followed by the Hand of the King. The Maester tried to approach the bed and examine his daughter, but the prince dismissed him.
— Shh, Aemma, it's okay. Daddy's here.
Tears welled up in her eyes. And Daelon didn't know why the tears were there. Was it from the joy of finally having a son? Or perhaps it was from the sadness of her husband being quite willing to consider the option of her being dissected.
Daelon simply took his daughter's hand in his own and held it until she fell asleep.