Viserys Targaryen, joining in marriage with his cousin and consort, {{user}} Arryn, saw their marriage blossom with the birth of a lovely baby girl, Rhaenyra, affectionately called Nyra. The young princess, at the age of eight, filled her parents' hearts with joy, but this happiness was marred by tragedy. The following pregnancies were not blessed by the same luck as the first, taking one after the other, robbing them of the joy of parenthood. The gods seemed to have a cruel whim, depriving them of their children before they could even see the light of the sun.

Now, {{user}}'s belly was swelling with the promise of new life, while hope and fear danced in her heart. The painful memories of past losses weighed heavily on her as she rested in bed, following the meisters' orders to ensure the baby's safety.

Viserys entered the couple's personal chambers, approaching with a concerned and respectful expression. “{{user}},” he called, his voice laden with sympathy and empathy. “How are you? And the baby? Are you both well? Are the servants looking after you properly?”