The wedding banquet was cut short when Nymeria Starlyfe, who was nine moons pregnant and resting in her room, entered labour right before the ladies were about to escort Rhaenys to her chamber.
Azaerys calmly asked Daenerys, Elaena, and Missandei to escort the children to their room and stay with them and their little dragons tonight.
Though the girls pouted at his words, they did not disobey him and led Rhaegar, Shaena, Maena, Maelor, Haera, Haela, and Zaeron to their room.
Viserys' golden bird and lover, Jaerra, and the two Lengii princesses offered to keep them company, and the little princesses happily took them away with them.
The Targaryen King then asked their household knights and guards to carry on with their meal and celebrations and left Ser Gerold Hightower to act as the host in his stead.
The adults and Rhaemon gathered in the loggia, outside Nymeria and Arthur's room.
Ashara, Allyria, and Azaerys entered the room together with the Dragonknight, who had never looked so restless in his life before, his eyes flickering with anxious hope.
And outside, Viserys, Rhaenys, Arianne, Lyanna, Elia, Laeha, Laena, Quaithe, and Rhaemon sat on the benches or leaned against the walls, waiting for the good news and praying for Nymeria and the child's safety, the chill of the winter night pressing against the stone beyond the warm loggia.
Hours later, well past midnight, when Rhaemon was feeling a little drowsy, they heard some footsteps down the hallway and watched Ser Horace Burnton, his son, Ser Jack Burnton, Ser Gerold, and Ser Oswell coming over.
The Master of Arms was carrying a large sword case in his arms, and given its size, it was likely for a greatsword.
"Is it done?" Viserys smiled at them, and they bowed to him and then to the rest.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"A greatsword?" The Stark curiously asked, and the old blacksmith happily nodded his head.
"Yes, Lady Lyanna. The Summer King ordered me to reforge a greatsword for the House Starlyfe, a symbol of the House of Dragonknights."
"But Arthur has Dawn." Rhaemon was a little confused.
"Dawn belongs to the House of Dayne, Rhae." Rhaenys smiled at her little brother. "Ser Arthur wants the sword returned to Starfall after his death."
"Oh..." he smiled and then looked at the sword case with fiery eyes. "Can we see it?"
Ser Horace did not know what to say and looked at Viserys and Rhaenys for the answer.
"We will wait for Arthur and Nymeria to see it first." The prince gently caressed his nephew's head, who sighed but smiled.
"Okay."
"Has the name been decided?" Lyanna curiously asked and watched Rhaenys nod her head.
"Yes, Ashara gave it a name when Azaerys designed it."
"What?"
"Starfyre." She smiled at their surprise and laughed when the lady rolled her eyes.
"Of course."
They all flinched when Nymeria's screams entered their ears and then started praying in their hearts again, the sound piercing the quiet night air.
About half an hour later, the screams subsided, and two midwives and Azaerys walked outside to inform everyone that Arthur and Nymeria had been blessed with a healthy little boy.
A while later, Arthur carried his son out to show his face to all of them, and since the baby was deep asleep, they could only see his jet-black hair.
"He has violet eyes, the same as his father," Azaerys informed them, and everyone then waited for Arthur to reveal the child's name.
"His name is Daemion Starlyfe."
There were smiles all around, and once Lyanna accepted the baby from his arms, the men started giving the Dragonknight tight hugs and their warmest wishes.
"Is Nymeria asleep?" Viserys asked when his wife, Allyria, exited the room.
"Yes." She answered and noticed that Rhaemon's shoulders dropped a little. "What's wrong?"
"I wanted to see the sword..." The young prince sighed, and when the Dayne's eyes landed on the sword case on the bench, she glared at Rhaemon.
"Is seeing the sword more important to you than Nymeria's health and rest?" She asked, and the boy flinched under her words. "No one's disturbing her sleep over a sword." She told everyone and the people chuckled.
"Of course we are not going to, my lady," Viserys assured her and then asked her to place the sword case in Nymeria's room.
They stayed with Arthur and the baby for another hour, until the midwives cleaned up his wife and the bed, and then Ashara and Allyria stayed with him whilst everyone else retired to their rooms.
It was almost dawn when Azaerys led Rhaenys to her chamber, and seeing their wedding bed, both laughed.
"Let's just sleep." The newly wedded queen decided and then pulled her husband with her to get changed.
The two snuggled with each other, kissed each other, and then peacefully closed their eyes in each other's arms, the warmth of their embrace a shield against the winter's chill beyond the walls.
It was in the afternoon when they woke up, and after freshening up and getting ready, they joined everyone for lunch, where the hall was filled with the aroma of warm bread and spiced stew.
Daenerys and Elaena excitedly informed everyone that Silvexis laid a clutch of five eggs last night, which gave them another reason to celebrate.
The start of the year was truly auspicious for them, and before their meal ended, they received another piece of good news.
It was after Ashara came to the hall and whispered something in Azaerys's ear, which prompted him to laugh out loud together with his wife.
Everyone wanted to hear what was going on, and their curiosity rose when the Summer King told his heir to go see Allyria and Jaerra.
Viserys, though confused, quickly got up and left the hall, and only then did Ashara reveal the news to all of them.
"Allyria and Jaerra are both with child."
Her words stunned them all, but then Elia, Lyanna, and Rhaenys laughed out loud.
They were happy from the bottom of their hearts, but at the same time, they could not wait to see Viserys getting tormented by his two ladies.
After the meal, when everyone gathered in Nymeria's room, who was awake now but still resting in her bed, they found both Allyria and Jaerra averting their eyes from the rest.
The ladies congratulated them with warm hugs, and Rhaemon did the same to his uncle, however, his mind was only on the sword reveal.
Arthur, under everyone's eyes, opened the sword case, inside which a greatsword in its black and silver scabbard was resting.
It had a silver draconic pommel, black hilt, and a silver crossguard which had metallic vines reaching up the blade, but when it was pulled out of its scabbard, everyone quickly saw the resemblance between it and Dawn.
The shape of the sword's blade was the spitting image of the ancestral sword of House Dayne except that it was made out of Valyrian steel and had a dark-bluish hue and ripples on it.
Rhaemon was starstruck when he saw it, and even Nymeria was stunned at its beauty.
"Starfyre of House Starlyfe," Azaerys informed the lady and her consort, who smiled at the name.
"Thank you, Your Grace." Nymeria sincerely said, holding back her tears at all the honours that had been bestowed upon her.
Rhaenys was busy the entire day. She did not wish to delay their consummation any longer, and he knew he would have to take his bride tonight.
That night was bitter in Siren, the air sharp with the chill of winter, one of the coldest nights of the year. Frost clung to the edges of the great chamber's windows, and the wind howled softly outside, carrying the faint scent of winter roses. Yet within, the roaring brazier filled the room with a comforting warmth, its flames casting a golden glow that danced across the stone walls.
The golden ceiling above, adorned with murals of dragons and griffins, gleamed faintly in the firelight, creating a haven against the frigid night.
Azaerys stood by the window, his silver-white hair catching the pale moonlight, his red and black robes of House Targaryen draped loosely over his broad frame. The weight of the day, the family's quiet joy, lingered in his heart, but it was Rhaenys who held his gaze now as she entered from the bath.
She stood at the centre of the room, her silhouette proud and unyielding, clad in a flowing gown of deep crimson, its sheer fabric embroidered with silver threads that shimmered like dragon scales against the firelight. Her dark brown eyes, fierce and unbroken, met his, a spark of defiance mingling with the vulnerability of this moment.
Rhaenys, his sweet sister, now his fifth wife, was no mere maiden. She was a dragon in her own right, destined to be a warrior queen, her spirit as untamed as the beasts they rode. Yet tonight, there was a softness in her, a quiet anticipation that made her breath catch as she stepped closer, her gown rustling softly against the floor.
Azaerys crossed the room, his footsteps silent on the warm marble floor, and stopped before her. He reached out, his fingers brushing the curve of her jaw, tracing the line of her cheekbone with a tenderness that belied his strength. Her skin was warm under his touch, heated by the brazier's glow, and her eyes fluttered briefly, a rare glimpse of the maiden beneath the warrior.
"Rhae," he murmured, his voice low and resonant, like the hum of a dragon's wings. "My little dragon."
She tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her gaze held a challenge.
"I'm no little dragon tonight, Az," she replied, her voice steady but laced with a tremor of excitement, her dark brown eyes misty with the emotions in her heart. "I'm yours, as you are mine."
He leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and commanding, the warmth of their breath mingling in the firelit room. Her lips were soft, yielding only slightly before she pressed back, her hands finding his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his robe.
The kiss deepened, a slow burn that spoke of years of unspoken longing and of a bond forged in fire and blood. Her heart thumped against his, a rhythm as fierce as her spirit, warming them both against the winter's chill beyond the walls.
Azaerys lifted her effortlessly, her gown whispering against the floor as he carried her to the wide bed draped in silken sheets of black and red, piled high with furs to ward off any lingering cold.
He set her down gently, and she sat up, her hands reaching to unfasten the clasps of his robe, her movements deliberate yet tinged with the hesitance of her maiden state. He caught her wrist, his touch firm but kind, and guided her hands to rest against his heart.
"There's no rush, Rhae," he said softly, his purple eyes locking with her dark brown orbs. "We have all night."
She nodded as she stood up, her breath hitching as he began to undo the delicate ties of her gown, her skin prickling in the warm air. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her like spilled wine, revealing the lithe strength of her form, honed by years of training yet softened by the curves of youth. Her skin glowed in the firelight, and Azaerys paused, his gaze reverent, as if beholding a sacred flame. She was no fragile thing, but tonight, she was his to cherish, a beacon of warmth in the firelit night.
Rhaenys reached for him, pulling him down to her, and their lips met again, fiercer now, her fingers tangling in his silver hair. He moved with her, their bodies aligning as he pressed her gently into the sheets, the silk and furs warm against her back, their softness a contrast to the icy world outside.
Her hands roamed his shoulders, feeling the taut muscle beneath, a warrior's strength that surpassed her own. When he parted her thighs, she tensed, her breath catching, but his touch was careful as his fingers tracing soothing patterns along her skin, stoking the fire in her loins.
Then his lips traced kisses all over her skin, treating her as a sacred delight. His tongue was soon at her core, his warm breath eliciting her moans, soft and unguarded in the quiet room. With her hands she clutched his hair, pulling him, seeking more.
She climbed the peak of ecstasy, her moans turning hoarse. Her back arched beautifully, her thighs determined to hold him close, but as it passed, she looked at her husband with eyes filled with love and desire.
Rhaenys watched him take off the clothes that confined him, his form revealed in the firelight, strong and unyielding. Brave as she was, she felt a flicker of fear, her heart racing in anxiety.
He climbed into the bed, parted her legs again, and soon he had guided himself to her core.
The first moment of their union was a sharp intake of breath for her, a stinging pain that made her grip his shoulders tightly, her nails biting into his flesh.
He stilled, his lips brushing her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, whispering words in ancient Valyrian that were both a promise and a prayer.
"You are my fire," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against her ear, his breath a warm caress in the firelit room. Slowly, she relaxed under his weight, her body yielding to the rhythm he set, gentle at first, then growing bolder as she began to respond.
Her gasps filled the air, soft and unguarded, mingling with the crackle of the brazier. The pleasure came to her like a rising tide, tentative at first, then overwhelming, her warrior's resolve giving way to the raw intensity of the moment.
She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, her movements mirroring his as they moved together, a dance as fierce and graceful as their battles in the sky. When the wave broke, she arched against him, a quiet cry escaping her lips, her dark brown eyes shining with a mix of triumph and vulnerability, her breath warm in the glowing air.
Azaerys held her close, his own release a quiet shudder that left him breathless, his forehead resting against hers. They lay entwined, the warmth of their bodies a shared sanctuary, the scent of their union mingling with the faint smoke of the brazier.
Rhaenys traced lazy patterns on his chest, her warrior's fire softened but unquenched, a smile tugging at her lips as she nestled deeper into the furs.
"You're mine now, Az," she whispered, her voice teasing but laced with a fierce possessiveness, her breath warm against his skin. "And I'll never let you go."
He chuckled, a low, warm sound, and pressed a kiss to her temple.
"Nor I you, my warrior queen."
They drifted into sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, the bond of their Valyrian union sealed not just in vows but in the quiet intimacy of the night, a promise of fire and blood to come, even as the winter's chill pressed against the walls outside.
A sennight later, Azaerys returned to Dragonport atop his hippogriff, his siblings and wives by his side, and after his return, he solely focused on his Summer Kingdom, not sparing a thought to Westeros.
He knew, though, the things that were soon to transpire, the plans that were in motion and close to fruition.
Yet he cared not.
The Seven Kingdoms had made their choice, and now it was time for them to face the consequences and drown in regret, chaos, and blood.
In the last sennight of the year, Prince Aegon Targaryen met his betrothed, Princess Luciara of Leng, daughter of the God-Empress Dianara, and he fell helplessly in love with her beauty.
They were wed at the Dragonport two days after their first meeting, and their wedding was celebrated throughout the capital.
Their union was also the announcement to the world that Summer Kingdom and Leng were now allied.