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Exhausted, Aerion collapsed onto the cushions as soon as the infant's first cry rang out in the chamber.
He felt disgusting. Sweaty, bloody and sore. It was a state unworthy of a true dragon. He did not want anyone to see him like this, but his omega father had insisted on the presence of midwives. Maekar himself wanted to be with his son during this delicate time, but Aerion refused outright. He would not allow his father to see him in such an awful state. He wouldn’t bear it if anyone thought of him as weak.
Ignoring the piercing pain, he slowly raised himself to a sitting position. He was above that. He was a dragon. Dragons do not feel pain.
He looked at the midwives assisting with the child. They surrounded the baby, blocking his view. The women's faces were pale with fear, which struck the prince as strange. Just a moment ago, they had congratulated him on the quick and easy delivery. Stupid servants. He felt anger begin to boil inside him.
“Give me my child,” he ordered the midwives.
“My prince, we should wait until your father arrives–,” began the oldest of the women.
“That was an order. Give me the child, or you will know the wrath of a dragon,” Aerion growled as he slowly got out of bed.
Every step towards the midwives was excruciating. He could feel the blood still running down his thighs. The terror on the faces of those women was worth it, though. He could see tears in the eyes of the youngest of them. He saw their trembling hands. Good. Let them remember that he is the dragon. A dragon does not bow down to anyone.
“Aerion! Lie down; you're going to bleed all over the floor!” Of course, it had to be his father who interrupted his fun.
Maekar entered the room, his maids trailing behind him. The older omega caught his son just as he staggered. He gently led the boy back to bed as if he was still a small child.
“Don’t just stand there! Prepare a bath and fresh bedding for him immediately,” Maekar hissed at the maids standing in the corner. The women hurriedly bowed and set about carrying out his orders.
“Muña, they won't give me my child...” Aerion turned to his father with tears in his eyes. This time, he wasn't even pretending. His inner omega was crying out for his offspring. The presence of his father, the family's omega, allowed the prince to give in to his instincts.
“Don't cry, my boy.” Maekar kissed his son's forehead, not noticing the sweat covering his body. He let Aerion hug him, then turned to the oldest midwife. “What is this, Marla?” Where is my grandchild? Bring the baby to the prince immediately.”
“Your Highness...” Marla began uncertainly, not wanting to anger the prince further. “Something unexpected has happened. You should see it for yourself.”
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
With a heavy heart, Maekar left his restless son in the care of the maids. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw them help Aerion up and lead him towards the room where a bath was probably waiting for him. The calmness on Aerion's face showed just how exhausted he must have been following the birth. Maekar was worried. Marla's face was grey with fear. What if something was wrong with the baby? The older omega was afraid of how his son would take the news. The baby lay in a cradle, swaddled in clothes. Its little chest rose and fell rhythmically.
Thanks to Seven, the baby survived, thought Maekar.
“The little princess is alive. But look, my prince,” said the old midwife.
She slowly unwrapped the swaddling clothes, giving the prince a better view of the child. At first glance, she looked exactly like Aerion. Maekar remembered perfectly well what his son had looked like when he delivered him. The girl was pale, with delicate silver-gold hair. A perfect Targaryen princess. But when Maekar looked closer…
Scales.
Pale scales ran down his granddaughter's neck, shining like the most beautiful pearls from the Free Cities. They resembled the scales Maekar had once seen on dragon eggs. The prince gently ran his finger over them. They were smooth to the touch, like slippery silk.
“The princess has a tail, too. A small one, covered with scales,’ whispered Marla, standing behind him. “That is why we waited for you to arrive, Your Highness.”
“Rightfully so,” replied Maekar, lifting his granddaughter.
She seemed so tiny. She yawned and slowly opened her eyes. They were dark for now, but Maekar sensed that they would soon turn violet, like his son's. Like his son's. Like his own. He stroked the child's chubby cheek.
"Make sure my son and granddaughter are well cared for," he told Marla, who was standing quietly nearby. Then he placed the little girl back in her cradle. "After his bath, the prince is to return to his chambers and rest. Let the servants prepare him a light meal. I will return as soon as I have told my husband the joyful news of our granddaughter's birth.”
“As you command, Your Highness. We will take care of the prince and the little princess,” she said, bowing, before turning to the infant lying in the cradle.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
He left the birthing chambers and hurried to the Tower of the Hand, assuming his husband would be waiting there.
They were in a complicated situation. Of course, he was delighted at the birth of his first granddaughter. But unfortunately, he knew his son all too well. Aerion was like a flame: unpredictable. One day he was the sweetest omega prince; the next, he was humiliating a servant for being too slow to serve him wine. He treated his siblings the same way. Maekar sometimes regretted not noticing it sooner. He had allowed himself to be deceived by his son's big violet eyes. If he had acted a few years earlier, perhaps he would not now have to worry about the life of an innocent girl.
He reached the Tower in record time. He stormed into the chambers without bothering to knock. Inside, a maester was passionately explaining something to Baelor.
“The audience is over. Leave us,” Maekar snapped at the terrified man. The man bowed hastily and left the Hand's office.
“What's happened, my dearest?” Baelor asked, turning to his visibly agitated husband. “Has something happened to Aerion? Is the child all right?”
“A girl. We have a granddaughter.” Maekar sank into a chair, still visibly shaken. He buried his face in his hands, his nervous pheromones filling the room. “She has scales all over her back. On her shoulders. And she has a tail, Baelor. She looks like...”
”Like a dragon…” the alpha finished for him, letting out calming pheromones. “Does Aerion know? Has he seen her?”
“Not yet. The midwives were waiting for me to arrive,” replied the omega, allowing the soothing scent of his spouse to envelop him. “He was irritable. One moment he was furious, and the next he burst into tears. I told the maids to help him bathe and take him to his rooms.”
“And what about our granddaughter?” asked Baelor, concerned.
“I left her with Marla,” replied Maekar. “She’s delivered enough babies; she knows how to take care of a child.”
“What do you want to do now?” Baelor asked, taking his omega's hands in his. “We can't hide her from Aerion forever. It's unhealthy for both of them.”
“I know, Baelor,” Maekar replied wearily. “But you know as well as I do what our son is like. He considers himself a true dragon. If he sees those scales... What if he wants to burn her?”
“You know what we'll have to do if it comes to that,” said Baelor sadly. “Isolate him. At least until he calms down. But first, we must try, my dearest. He should be able to at least name his daughter.”
“I will bring her to him. Just me, no midwives and no guards,” said Maekar, glancing at his husband. “Perhaps it will be easier for him in a safe environment.”
“Do you want me to go with you, my dearest?” Baelor asked, kissing the back of his husband's hand.
“I appreciate it, but it would be better if it was just me.” You are the alpha. It might irritate him. Remember how I was after Valarr was born?” Maekar replied tenderly.
“I remember. The servants gossiped for weeks about how you threw the king out of our chambers,” Baelor laughed.
“In hindsight, I would have done exactly the same thing,” Maekar replied, rising from his chair. “I’m going to take care of Aerion. I'll find you in the afternoon so you can meet our granddaughter.”
Baelor pulled his omega into a passionate kiss. Despite the passing of the years, the intensity of their love burned as brightly as ever. Maekar returned the kiss, wrapping his arms around his husband's neck. Damn alpha, distracting him with his lips again!
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Maekar entered Aerion's chambers quietly, carrying the infant in his arms. His son was lying pale and exhausted in bed. His eyes were open and still red from crying. Seeing his father, he slowly sat up and leaned against the pillows behind him. Maekar gently sat down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to invade younger omega's space too much.
“It's a girl,” said the prince, holding out the child for his son to see. Aerion's eyes filled with tears again. This frightened Maekar. His son rarely showed such emotions to anyone. “Make yourself comfortable. I'll give her to you in a moment”'
Aerion settled himself on the pillows without protest and stretched out his arms. A moment later, Maekar placed the baby in his arms. The younger omega immediately hugged the girl to his chest, absorbing her presence as if she were about to disappear.
Maekar felt a pang of guilt. It was also because of his orders that his son had been kept away from his daughter for so long. The older omega remembered that feeling himself. He recalled how the king had taken little Valarr away from him because he wanted to see his first grandchild. He remembered how instinct had taken control of him. And now he had condemned his own son to the same pain.
Aerion remained silent for a moment. He simply stared at his eldest daughter, seemingly hypnotised. Then, with strange gentleness, he stroked her cheek.
“Saera,” he whispered, still staring at her.
Her name.
Of course, he had chosen a name associated with an old family scandal. Maekar expected nothing else from him. Thank the Seven that he did not give birth to a son, because the elder prince had a bad feeling about the name he would have chosen for him. But it didn't have to be a bad omen. Perhaps his granddaughter, little Saera, would give the name a new history?
“Aerion.” Maekar took a deep breath. He had to tell him the truth while he was still calm. “Saera... Her back is covered in scales. It looks like she has a tail, too.”
Aerion froze. Slowly, he raised his head and stared at his father in disbelief. A strange gleam lit up his eyes. With a gentle movement, he pulled back the swaddling clothes covering his daughter. The shiny scales adorning her skin were revealed. Maekar did not dare say a word. He watched his son's behaviour in silence, ready to intervene at any moment.
"This is proof," whispered Aerion, still running his finger over the smooth scales. “She is a living dragon, just like me.”
Maekar looked away.
His son was still delusional. Unfortunately, there was nothing that could be done about it. But if little Saera fell victim to them... Maekar could only hope that, when Aerion's partner returned, he would be able to stabilize the situation somehow. Otherwise…
The only option would be to isolate Aerion.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Despite initial fears of his fathers, Aerion proved to be a good parent. He was determined to feed Saera himself and refused the help of wet nurses. He insisted that they were unable to feed a true dragon. The girl slept in a cradle in his chambers so that he could always be close to her. He took her everywhere with him, treating her like his most precious treasure.
When his partner returned, things calmed down somewhat. The maids were permitted to see the child, albeit only to change her clothes or bathe her. This was all under the pretext of Aerion's return to full health.
The peacefulness worried both Baelor and Maekar. Aerion was difficult to predict. Now that he had received proof of being a living dragon, as he himself said, he was even more unpredictable. The royal family was even more tense.
Fortunately, it turned out that little Saera was similar to her Muña only in appearance. She was cheerful and often sought out her grandparents or aunts. She was particularly fond of Baelor and would often accompany him to council meetings. Yet the spectre of fear still loomed. Looking at his almost one-year-old granddaughter, Maekar prayed that the Seven would let her grow up peacefully.