The birthing chambers smelled of fresh linens and soap, though the heavy scent of blood still lingered - faint, but there nonetheless. The maester said it had been a difficult labor, but both mother and child were healthy in the end.

Baelor and his wife never planned for a third child. The pregnancy had come on unexpectedly, but it had never been unwelcome. He simply had no need for more children. Valarr was seven and ten, and Matarys was four and ten. His sons were strong, healthy. There was no purpose in putting his dear wife’s body and mind at risk, but the gods so often liked a change of plans.

{{user}}'s time with child had been hard on her. She was not as young as she was when she had her first two children, and Baelor's every waking moment was spent worrying for her. He had never let that worry show, for her sake alone, but his spare moments had been spent with her: brushing her hair, massaging her sore aches, and praying to the gods that she would remain of good health.

When the babe came out squalling, a great weight had been lifted from the prince's chest. Then the maester's words had followed. A girl. In the anxious weeks leading up to the birth, Baelor had not given much thought to the child's gender. Now, with his little girl freshly fed and swaddled and held in her mother's arms, it felt... right.

The birthing chamber had been cleared, the maids and maester gone. {{user}} lay propped against soft pillows, changed into a clean shift made of gentle linen. The newborn lay in her arms, wrapped in white cloth as she slept.

Baelor could only watch for a moment, savoring the quiet after the chaos, and looking down upon the new addition to their family, a sweet little princess of Dragonstone. "She is perfect," he said aloud, though the reverent words were quiet on his lips. His larger hand rested over his wife’s, cradling the baby's head. She was small and delicate, and her hair was already thick and dark. "She already has her mother’s nose," he mused.

Baelor sighed softly, his gentle gaze lifting to meet his wife’s. Her hair was still somewhat messy, her skin still damp with sweat, and dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. But she was more beautiful than she had ever been before. His free hand lifted, coming to rest upon her cheek as he leaned in to peck the top of her head. "You did wonderfully, my love," Baelor whispered against her hairline. His lips trailed down to peck her temple slowly, and his thumb gently stroked her cheek. "I know this was not easy for you, but you are strong. How do you fare? Do you need more medicines from the maester?"