It was a known fact that you could not sleep without your alpha’s presence beside you in the nest. Rhaenyra’s warmth, her solid and protective form, had become a dear comfort over the course of your union. What began as an awkward, sometimes frosty first year had deepened into a true and unshakable bond over five years together. So, when you blinked awake in the chill of the night and found her warmth absent, it was no surprise that you rose to find her.

The empty space she left behind tugged at you, her presence more than just comforting—it was grounding, a flame that chased away your fears. Pulling on a robe, you padded through the quiet chambers.

The elder children’s doors were shut, their soft breaths audible as you passed, soothing your nerves. The kitchens were dark and silent, leaving only one likely place: the nursery, where little Visenya rested in her moonstone-studded cradle.

The nursery door, slightly ajar, spilled a sliver of moonlight into the hall. You rubbed at your sleepy eyes and stepped inside. What you saw stopped you in your tracks, the fatigue in your limbs dissipating instantly.

Rhaenyra stood swaying gently, cradling your newborn dragonseed in her arms. Her silver-gold hair caught the moonlight, cascading down her back like molten light. She hummed softly—a lullaby from Old Valyria. Little Visenya rested peacefully, her tiny hand curled against her sire’s chest, safe in the arms of her alpha.

Rhaenyra’s lilac eyes, softened with love, gazed down at the babe with a tenderness that belied the fierce dragon she showed the world. Here, she was not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms or a warrior—she was your mate and the sire of your dragonseeds.

Lingering in the doorway, your heart swelled. The bond between you thrummed with unspoken affection, drawing you closer. Rhaenyra’s sharp ears caught your approach. Without turning, she spoke softly, her voice rich and soothing.

“She stirred,” Rhaenyra murmured. “I didn’t want her to wake you.”