The warm chamber where Helaena gave birth was enclosed by thick stone walls.
The fire in the hearth burned brightly, and the windows were covered by heavy velvet curtains.
Helaena had been struggling on the bed for three hours.
Her face was pale, her forehead drenched in sweat, silver hair plastered to her cheeks.
She had bitten her lips until they bled, yet she never cried out. She simply kept her eyes tightly shut, gripping the bedsheets so hard that her knuckles turned white.
The midwives surrounded her.
Though all were experienced, even they wore anxious expressions now.
"Your Grace, one more push."
"I can see the child's head."
Gritting her teeth, Helaena let out a low, suppressed groan.
Her body tensed like a bow drawn to its limit.
Aemond stood outside the door.
He was not permitted inside. Leaning against the cold stone wall, he folded his arms across his chest, his expression calm.
Queen Dowager Alicent stood at the other end of the corridor, head lowered, hands clasped together as she silently prayed to the Seven.
The hallway was quiet.
Only the muffled sounds of pain from the birthing chamber, the midwives' reassurances, and Helaena's restrained groans could be heard.
Then a baby's cry shattered the silence.
Loud and clear, carrying the stubborn vitality unique to new life.
Aemond's body trembled slightly.
His arms dropped from his chest to his sides, and his fingers shook faintly.
His eyes remained fixed on the heavy wooden door.
A midwife poked her head out, smiling.
"Prince Regent, the first child is a boy."
Aemond drew a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
"And the other one?"
"Soon, Your Grace. Please do not worry. The princess will come to no harm."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted inside the birthing chamber.
Not joy.
Panic.
Voices rose. Footsteps hurried.
Aemond's expression changed.
He strode toward the chamber, shoved aside the midwife blocking the entrance, and pushed the door open.
One midwife stood beside the bed holding a baby boy.
Normal.
Healthy.
His cries were strong and vigorous.
But everyone's eyes were fixed on another midwife who had just delivered the second child.
Aemond walked over and saw the child.
A girl.
The left side of her face was covered in fine crimson scales.
They began at her forehead and stretched down her left cheek to her chin.
The scales were thickest around her cheekbone, nearly covering that patch of skin entirely.
Her eyes were closed, yet even her eyelids bore a thin layer of scales.
A slender tail covered in scales protruded from beneath the white swaddling cloth, about two fingers long and slightly curled.
The entire chamber fell silent.
Everyone stared at the child.
Something that should not exist.
Something that defied the laws of nature.
Something terrifying.
Aemond's face darkened.
His purple eyes had already transformed into their double-pupiled form.
Shock.
Confusion.
Fear.
Anger.
But now, looking at his eldest daughter and the dragon scales covering her face, he knew it was real.
Is this the price...?
My blood has become purer and purer...
And yet my daughter has become a monster.
"Prince Regent..." the midwife said, her voice trembling.
Aemond looked up at them.
A trace of killing intent flashed through his eyes.
That fleeting glimpse of murderous intent nearly made the midwife's legs give out beneath her.
She had delivered thousands of children. She had seen cleft lips, six-fingered infants, even conjoined twins.
But she had never seen anything like this.
Dragon scales.
A tail.
This was not a human child.
This was a monster.
Throughout the history of the Seven Kingdoms, monsters had only ever met one fate.
If word of this child spread across the realm—if the Faith learned that Aemond Targaryen had fathered a daughter covered in dragon scales—the entirety of Westeros would be shaken.
After all, the last time a Targaryen had produced such a child...
It had been during Maegor's reign.
And after that, King Maegor I had only grown more and more mad.
"You've all done well," Aemond said in a voice terrifyingly calm. "But what happened today..."
"We understand, Prince Regent," the midwife hurriedly replied. "We saw nothing. The princess gave birth to only one child—a healthy, normal boy."
The other midwives quickly nodded.
Their faces were pale, their lips trembling.
Aemond stared at them in silence for a long time.
"Give each of them fifty golden dragons. You may leave."
The midwives felt as though they had been granted a pardon from death.
They hurriedly bowed and filed out of the room.
The midwife carrying the boy placed him beside the unconscious Helaena before quickly departing as well.
Only Aemond, Helaena, Alicent, and the girl remained.
Helaena lay on the bed, pale-faced.
Her eyes had opened slightly, and she seemed somewhat better, though she was still so weak she could barely speak.
Yet she saw Aemond's expression.
She saw the relief on the midwives' faces as they left.
She saw the shock and disbelief in Alicent's eyes as she stood at the doorway.
"What happened?" she asked weakly. "What's wrong with the child?"
Aemond said nothing.
He walked over to the midwife and took the child into his arms.
She was so light.
Light as a feather.
Her body was tiny, small enough to fit in one of his hands.
Her hair was silver, like every Targaryen child.
Except for the scales.
Except for the tail.
Aemond lowered his head and gazed at her.
His eldest daughter.
His flesh and blood.
His lineage.
He should love her.
He wanted to love her.
But when he looked at the face covered in scales, all he could feel was disgust.
Not disgust toward her.
Disgust toward himself.
He had caused all of this.
He had turned this innocent child into a monster.
He wanted to hide her away.
Hide her somewhere no one would ever see her.
But he knew that was impossible.
The child's very existence was a secret, and once it was exposed, it would unleash a storm.
Kill her.
The thought came so suddenly and so powerfully that his fingers tightened slightly.
Kill her. Bury her in the cellars beneath the Red Keep. Tell Helaena that the child had not survived.
The death of a newborn would attract no attention. In Westeros, newborns died every day—difficult births, illness, deformities, countless causes.
No one would suspect anything.
No one would ask questions.
No one would ever know.
The girl suddenly opened her eyes.
Purple.
Pure, clear, unmistakably Targaryen purple.
There was no fear in them.
No pain.
Only the curiosity and trust unique to an infant seeing the world for the first time.
She looked at Aemond.
Then a smile appeared on that face whose left side was covered in scales.
An unconscious smile.
A pure smile unique to a baby.
Aemond's fingers froze.
He looked at her.
At those purple eyes.
At that smile.
In that instant, the faint killing intent in his heart was drowned beneath something far stronger.
He took a deep breath and held the girl a little tighter.
Turning around, he intended to place her in the cradle in the corner and keep her hidden from Helaena for now. He would tell her once she had recovered a little.
"Please let me see her."
Helaena's voice came from the bed behind him, weak but firm.
Aemond stopped.
"You should rest. Let me take care of her."
"Let me see her."
Her voice was louder this time. She had clearly realized something.
"She's my daughter. No matter what she looks like, I have the right to see her."
Aemond fell silent.
"Please, Aemond. Let me see her."
Closing his eyes, Aemond drew a deep breath.
Then he turned around and carried the girl to Helaena's bedside.
Helaena propped herself up and leaned weakly against her pillows.
Her face was pale, and her lips were devoid of color.
But her purple eyes were bright, filled with anticipation.
Aemond gently placed the girl in her arms.
Helaena lowered her gaze.
The smile on her face froze.
She saw the scales.
The tail.
That face—half human, half scaled—something that should never have existed.
Her hands began to tremble.
Her lips quivered.
Tears silently slid down her cheeks.
"This is my fault..."
She stared in disbelief as she muttered to herself.
"I must have done something wrong."
"I ate something I shouldn't have..."
"It's not your fault."
She looked up, her vision blurred by tears.
"Aemond... why did this happen?"
Aemond remained silent.
Helaena looked at him as tears streamed down her face like broken strings of pearls.
"Do you want to kill her?" she suddenly asked.
Aemond's body stiffened slightly.
"I can feel it," Helaena said in a voice terrifyingly calm. "In your heart, you want to kill her."
"Or you want to hide her away so that no one will ever know she exists."
Aemond did not deny it.
"I won't hurt her."
"But you thought about it."
Her tears flowed even harder.
"You thought about killing your own daughter."
Aemond crouched down so that they were eye level.
There was no attempt to avoid her gaze in those double pupils.
"I thought about it. But only thought about it. I won't do it."
"Why?"
He lowered his head and looked at the girl in his arms.
She was smiling again.
Her purple eyes curved into crescents, and her tiny hands waved through the air as though trying to grasp something.
"Because she's our daughter. No matter what she looks like, she's still my daughter."
Helaena looked at him.
Slowly, her tears began to subside.
She reached out and gently caressed his face.
Her fingers were cold, but her touch was gentle.
"Don't treat her like a shameful thing. She's our daughter."
"She's Visenya."
Visenya.
The name they had chosen long ago.
If it was a girl, she would be named Visenya, in honor of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wife, the fierce queen who rode Vhagar.
Aemond looked at the girl in his arms.
At the face covered in scales.
He lowered his head and gently kissed her forehead.
The scales were cool and smooth, like kissing a polished stone.
But her body was warm.
Her heartbeat was normal.
Her breathing was steady.
She was alive.
A living child.
His daughter.
Then he drew a dagger from his belt.
Helaena jumped in fright. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on Visenya and shrank backward.
Seeing Aemond's action, Alicent immediately rebuked him.
"My son, what are you doing?"
Aemond did not answer.
Instead, he sliced open his left palm.
Blood welled out, appearing dark red beneath the candlelight.
He brought his bleeding hand to Visenya's lips.
Drops of blood fell onto her mouth and seeped between her lips.
Visenya's mouth moved slightly, as though she were suckling.
He hoped that his blood might somehow help...
Visenya should not be like this...
If there must be a curse, then let it fall upon me.
If there must be suffering, then let it come to me...