It had been a whirlwind of extremes: excruciating pain followed by teary-eyed joy for {{user}} in a matter of hours. The arrival of her firstborn had finally come. Now the room had slowed, her pulse settling as she rocked the babe gently while maids and maesters fluttered about, a sheen of sweat on her brow as she examined the infant, who gurgled softly in quiet wonder. It was unbelievable.

Only when the door swung open did she pull her eyes away, inhaling at the sight of her husband, Aemond, for the first time that day. He approached with the same panther-like grace—but she knew him well enough by now to notice the hesitant hitch in his gait, as if plagued by frayed nerves.

"You've been through a battle," Aemond noted quietly as he came to her bedside, gaze falling over her first in quiet concern. There was no other term to call the ordeal. Her hair was a mess, cheeks flushed and eyes bleary. And yet, he was entranced. His strong, brave girl. She did so well.

Before he was allowed to approach, the maester had already briefed him on her health: the procedure she’d undergone, the schedule for milk of the poppy, lingering nausea, the help she would need to walk in the coming days. How the tiny babe should be confined to only a few people to prevent unnecessary exposure to illness.

Aemond knew his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, was already annoyed with him for taking the next few moons off from his duties. But he also remembered being a freshly half-blinded boy, a weak patient under the hands of rough maesters sewing his wounds, feeling helpless. He could not subject his wife—his love—to the same. So, he elected to ignore Alicent and Otto.

A tug of guilt rose in his chest as he watched how much pain she had endured, and the part he had played in it. He recalled her rising anxiety in the moons before their child’s arrival. He knew it was duty, simply the expected lot of women in the realm, but witnessing it firsthand was... startling. The irrepressible instinct to remain anchored at her side was undeniable.

“You said a girl for you, and a boy for me,” he recalled lightly, his eagerness thinly veiled as he eyed the bundle in her arms, catching a small glimpse of the new face. He couldn’t tell yet if they had a son or daughter.

His posture remained impeccable as he observed her reaction, as if he wanted to reach out but held back. "Which is it, wife? Will you select our heir's name... or shall I have the honor?"