Morning sunlight streamed through the grand chamber, casting a soft glow on Laena as she cradled her newborn son. Daemon sat beside her, one arm draped protectively around her shoulders. Their son stirred, his tiny fists waving in the air as if he were already reaching for the skies.

Laena smiled down at him. “He’s strong. I can feel it.”

Daemon chuckled softly. “He’ll need to be, with the life he’s been born into.”

Laena’s gaze lingered on their son’s small, delicate features. “Vaelor,” she said suddenly, her voice firm but warm.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, considering the name. “Vaelor Targaryen,” he repeated, testing the sound. “First of his name.”

Laena nodded, her decision resolute. “It feels right. A name befitting a prince who survived such a difficult birth.”

Daemon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Vaelor’s forehead. “Vaelor it is, then.”

Across the room, the two dragon eggs glimmered in the morning light. The pink one, its soft hue streaked with gold veins, sat nestled in a bed of coals, warming steadily. Beside it, the vibrant orange egg shimmered with an almost fiery intensity.

“They’re beautiful,” Laena murmured, her eyes fixed on the eggs. “Do you think they’ll hatch?”

Daemon shrugged, though his expression betrayed a hint of curiosity. “If they were given to us as gifts, then perhaps the girl knew something we don’t.”

Laena’s fingers traced the edge of the blanket wrapped around Vaelor. Her voice grew quiet as she added, almost to herself, “She has pink eyes.”

Daemon turned to her, his brow furrowing. “What did you say?”

“The girl—Vensalia,” Laena repeated, this time louder. “She had pink eyes. I didn’t notice it clearly that night, but now I remember.”

Daemon’s expression grew thoughtful, but before he could respond, the door burst open, and Rhaena and Baela ran in, their faces alight with excitement.

“Mother! Father!” Rhaena called, her voice full of energy. “Is he awake?”

Baela followed close behind, her quieter but equally curious gaze fixed on the baby in Laena’s arms.

“He is,” Laena said, smiling warmly. “Come meet your brother.”

The girls approached cautiously, their eyes wide with wonder. Vaelor, as if sensing their presence, opened his tiny eyes and let out a soft coo.

“He’s so small,” Rhaena whispered, leaning in closer.

Baela nodded. “But he looks strong.”

Daemon chuckled, his pride evident. “That’s because he’s a Targaryen.”

The girls exchanged grins, their excitement bubbling over. But just as they were about to pepper their parents with questions, a faint cracking sound interrupted the moment.

All eyes turned toward the dragon eggs. The pink one trembled slightly, a fine web of cracks spreading across its surface. Beside it, the orange egg began to emit a faint glow, its shell shifting as if something within were straining to break free.

“They’re hatching,” Laena whispered, her voice filled with awe.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint tapping from within the eggs. Rhaena’s hands clutched the edge of her dress, her excitement barely contained. “Is it really happening?”

“It seems so,” Daemon said, his tone cautious but intrigued.

The pink egg cracked open first, a tiny dragon emerging with shimmering pink scales streaked with gold. Its bright gold eyes blinked as it took in its surroundings. Without hesitation, the little dragon spread its fragile wings and flew straight toward Rhaena.

Rhaena gasped in delight, her laughter ringing out as the dragon perched on her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek. “She’s beautiful!” Rhaena exclaimed, her joy infectious.

The orange egg cracked moments later, revealing a vibrant orange dragon with scales that seemed to flicker like flames. Its piercing black eyes, marked with yellow slits, surveyed the room before it launched itself toward Vaelor.

The baby dragon landed gently beside Vaelor, who let out a soft giggle as the dragon nuzzled against him. It curled up protectively around the infant, its warmth and presence eliciting another laugh from Vaelor.

Laena and Daemon watched in stunned silence, their emotions a mix of awe and disbelief.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Laena murmured, her eyes fixed on Vaelor and the orange dragon.

Daemon nodded slowly. “They’ve already bonded.”

Rhaena, still laughing, stroked her dragon’s soft scales. “What should I name her?” she asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

“That’s for you to decide,” Laena said, her voice filled with pride. “She’s yours now.”

Rhaena beamed, her mind already racing with ideas.

Vaelor, too young to speak, simply giggled as his dragon snuggled closer, its warmth lulling him into a peaceful sleep.

As the initial excitement began to settle, Laena leaned back, her gaze shifting between her children and the dragons. “They’ll be safe now,” she said softly, though a hint of worry lingered in her voice.

Daemon placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “They’ll be safe because we’ll ensure it. These dragons are a blessing—a bond that will protect them in ways we never could alone.”

Laena nodded, though her thoughts drifted back to Vensalia. The mysterious girl had given them these gifts, but her true intentions remained unclear.

“She knew what she was doing,” Laena said after a moment. “These dragons... they’re not just gifts. They’re a sign of something greater.”

Daemon’s expression darkened slightly. “Whatever her motives, we must remain vigilant. Gifts like these always come with a cost.”

Laena didn’t respond, her attention drawn back to her son and his dragon. For now, the future could wait.

Rhaena’s laughter filled the room once more as her dragon fluttered around her, its tiny wings surprisingly strong for such a young creature. “She’s perfect,” Rhaena said, her happiness uncontainable.

Laena smiled, her heart swelling with pride. “She’s yours, Rhaena. And Vaelor’s dragon is his. They’ll grow together, just as you all will.”

The family sat together, the weight of the night before beginning to lift. The arrival of the dragons had brought a sense of hope, a reminder of the strength and unity that defined the Targaryen legacy.

Outside, the morning sun rose higher, its warmth a promise of new beginnings. The dragons, still small and fragile, were a testament to that promise—a bond that would shape the future of House Targaryen in ways none of them could yet imagine.

---

The midday sun bathed the gardens of the Red Keep in warmth, casting a golden glow over the long dining table adorned with platters of roasted meats, fresh fruits, and rich wines. It was a rare moment of togetherness for the Targaryens and Velaryons, gathered to celebrate the recent addition of Vaelor Targaryen and the hatching of two dragon eggs gifted mysteriously to the family.

Rhaena sat proudly at the table, her small pink dragon curled securely around her shoulders. The little creature emitted soft, contented trills as it nuzzled against her, earning smiles from everyone who watched. Across from her, Vaelor cooed in his mother’s lap, his tiny orange dragon perched protectively on the armrest of her chair. The baby dragon’s black eyes, slit with yellow, glimmered as it surveyed the gathering with an intensity that seemed far too mature for its size.

The room buzzed with light conversation and laughter as the family admired the young dragons. Even King Viserys, his health noticeably declining, managed a smile as he observed the tiny creatures.

“Remarkable,” he murmured, leaning on the arm of his chair. “They’re no larger than hatchlings, yet their bond with Rhaena and Vaelor is already so strong.”

Corlys Velaryon nodded, his gaze fixed on Vaelor’s dragon. “It’s as though they were meant for them. I’ve never seen dragons so young behave with such loyalty.”

As the meal progressed, the dragons began to shift uneasily, their heads swiveling as though searching for something. Rhaena, noticing her dragon’s restlessness, reached up to stroke its soft scales.

“Is something wrong?” Baela asked, her brow furrowed as she glanced between the two dragons.

“They don’t like being separated from their riders,” Laena explained, her voice calm but laced with understanding. “It’s a bond stronger than most at this age. They’re still getting used to their surroundings.”

Daemon, sitting beside her, watched the orange dragon as it let out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing. “And they’re protective,” he added. “Very protective.”

To demonstrate, Rhaena stood from her seat, gently lifting her dragon from her shoulders and placing it on the table. The moment the pink dragon was more than an arm’s length away, it let out a sharp cry, its small wings flaring as if ready to take flight.

“See?” Rhaena said with a sheepish grin as she scooped the dragon back up. Instantly, the creature calmed, curling around her neck once more.

Vaelor’s dragon, too, had begun to grow restless, its small body tensing as it stared intently at anyone who approached. Laena soothed it with gentle whispers, and it settled only after snuggling back into Vaelor’s lap.

Not everyone at the table was receiving such a warm welcome from the dragons. While they remained friendly toward most of the Targaryens and Velaryons, their behavior changed drastically when Rhaenyra or her sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey, came too close.

Jacaerys, curious and eager to see the dragons up close, reached out a hand toward Rhaena’s pink dragon. The creature immediately hissed, baring its tiny teeth and flattening its wings against its back.

“Careful, Jace,” Daemon warned, his tone sharp. “They don’t seem to like you.”

Lucerys, undeterred, tried to approach Vaelor’s orange dragon. The hatchling responded with a deep growl, its black eyes locked onto him with an intensity that made Lucerys stop in his tracks.

“They’re just babies,” Rhaenyra said, her tone forced and light as she gestured for her sons to back away. “They’ll grow out of such behavior.”

“They seem to know who they trust,” Laena countered, her voice cool but firm. She stroked Vaelor’s dragon soothingly, the hatchling calming under her touch but still watching Rhaenyra’s family with wary eyes.

Corlys, ever the diplomat, broke the tension with a question. “Have they chosen names for their dragons yet?”

Rhaena’s face lit up, her earlier discomfort forgotten. “I’m thinking of calling her Lythaea,” she announced proudly.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Rhaenys said with a warm smile. She turned to Laena. “And Vaelor’s dragon?”

Laena glanced down at the orange hatchling. “He hasn’t chosen yet,” she replied softly. “But I’m sure it will come in time.”

As the meal continued, the dragons remained close to their riders, their behavior a testament to the unique bond they shared. Lythaea stayed perched on Rhaena’s shoulder, occasionally letting out soft chirps that made Rhaena laugh. Vaelor’s dragon, meanwhile, refused to leave his lap, its small body draped protectively over the infant as he gurgled happily.

“They’re unlike any dragons I’ve ever seen,” Rhaenys observed, her tone thoughtful. “Their attachment to Rhaena and Vaelor is almost... unnatural.”

Daemon smirked. “Unnatural or not, they’ll grow to be formidable allies.”

Viserys, though quieter than usual, nodded in agreement. “The blood of Old Valyria runs strong in this family. Perhaps these dragons sense that.”

Despite the overall joy of the occasion, the unease surrounding Rhaenyra and her sons lingered. Every time one of them moved closer to the dragons, the creatures would growl or hiss, their mistrust palpable.

“They’re just children,” Rhaenyra said finally, her voice tight as she addressed the group. “There’s no reason for the dragons to behave this way.”

“Dragons don’t need reasons,” Laena replied, her tone measured but firm. “They sense things we can’t.”

Daemon’s eyes flicked toward Rhaenyra, his expression unreadable. “Perhaps it’s best if your boys keep their distance—for now.”

Rhaenyra said nothing, her jaw tightening as she sat back in her chair. Her sons, though clearly upset, obeyed, retreating to their seats and casting wary glances at the dragons.

The tension eased as Rhaena began to feed Lythaea small pieces of meat from her plate, the dragon’s delighted chirps drawing smiles from the group. Even Vaelor’s dragon, who had been on high alert, relaxed as it nuzzled against the baby’s hand.

“Look at that,” Laena said softly, her heart swelling as she watched her son giggle at his dragon’s antics. “They’re already inseparable.”

Daemon leaned closer, his gaze thoughtful. “They’ll be strong together. Both of them.”

Rhaena beamed as Lythaea flapped her wings, sending a gust of air across the table. “I can’t wait to fly with her one day.”

“You will,” Corlys said with a nod. “And when you do, you’ll understand the true strength of the bond between a rider and their dragon.”

As the meal came to an end, the family lingered, reluctant to leave the rare moment of unity and peace. The dragons, now full and content, curled up beside their riders, their soft breaths filling the room.

Though the unease surrounding Rhaenyra and her sons had not entirely faded, the joy brought by the new dragons overshadowed it—for now.

Daemon and Laena exchanged a glance, their unspoken thoughts reflected in their eyes. The future was uncertain, but for this moment, they could take comfort in the bonds that had been forged.

For Rhaena and Vaelor, their dragons were more than just companions—they were a promise of strength, protection, and the enduring legacy of House Targaryen.