Maekar stood at the edge of the training yard, his eyes fixed on his twin boys, Aegon and Baelon, as they sparred with wooden swords. The sun cast a warm glow on their youthful faces, and their laughter echoed through the air. Maekar's youngest son, Rhaegar, watched eagerly from the sidelines, his eyes wide with admiration.

Beside Maekar stood Ser Criston, who had become a trusted friend. They had forged a strong bond after the incident at Rhaenyra's wedding, where Maekar had stopped Ser Criston from being executed and in turn Ser Criston became Alicent's, Moira's and their youngest daughters sworn protector. Now, they stood together, watching the young princes display their growing skills.

Growing up, the only thing that could tell Aegon and Baelon apart was their hair colour. Aegon followed his father with his Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes, while Baelon followed their mother with hair yet shared the same eyes. The other thing that was different was their fighting styles. Baelon was swift and agile, relying on his speed to outmaneuver his opponent. Aegon, on the other hand, was more methodical and deliberate, using his strength and size to his advantage.

As the boys clashed their wooden swords, Maekar couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. They were his sons, his blood, and they showed promise as future warriors of House Targaryen.

Ser Criston leaned in closer to Maekar, his voice filled with admiration. "Your sons are skilled with their swords, my Prince. They have grown so much since I first met them."

Maekar nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Indeed, Ser Criston. They have come a long way. It warms my heart to see them embrace their training with such enthusiasm."

Just then, Baelon executed a swift maneuver, disarming his brother with a well-placed strike. Aegon stumbled backwards, his face flushed with exertion. But instead of showing frustration, he grinned at his twin, a glint of determination in his eyes.

Maekar's gaze shifted to Rhaegar, who watched the sparring match with wide-eyed wonder. He was eager to join his brothers on the training field, but Maekar knew he needed more time to grow and develop before fighting with his brothers. Rhaegar had a different path ahead of him, one that would require a different set of skills.

Turning to Ser Criston, Maekar spoke softly. "Ser Criston, I want you to continue training my sons. They have shown great progress under your guidance, and I trust your expertise, more than I do Ser Harwin's."

Ser Criston bowed his head respectfully. "It would be an honor, my Prince."

As he watched his sons spar, he couldn't help but feel a surge of hope. They were the next generation of dragonlords, and with their training and guidance, House Targaryen would continue to thrive and protect the realm.

As Maekar watched his sons, a voice called out from behind him, drawing his attention. He turned to see his wife, Alicent, with their other two children in tow. Moira, their ten-year-old daughter, walked confidently beside her mother, while Visenya, only four years old, clung to Alicent's hand.

Moira used to share her mothers dark hair and her fathers violet eyes, but over time more Targaryen silver seemed to creep upon her head. However, Visenya completely followed her mother, eyes and all.

Alicent approached the training ground with a gentle smile on her face. Her presence added a touch of grace and elegance to the bustling arena of swords and sweat. She had always been a calming influence on Maekar, a pillar of strength and wisdom.

"Maekar," Alicent called out, her voice carrying a warm tone. "May I join you to watch the boys?"

Maekar's eyes softened as he extended his hand towards her. "Of course, my love. I would be delighted to have you by my side."

Alicent took his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, as they walked closer to the training yard. Moira, who had been eyeing her brothers' sparring match with curiosity, broke away from her mother's side and approached Aegon and Baelon.

"Can I join in, Father?" Moira asked, her voice filled with determination. Maekar had granted permission for his eldest daughter to learn to fight if she so wished, and Moira had said yes instantly. Yet Maekar and Ser Criston both knew Moira wasn't ready to join in with her older brothers, same as Rhaegar.

Maekar chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Not just yet, my dear. Soon enough, you will have your turn. For now, watch and learn from your brothers."

Moira nodded eagerly, her gaze fixed on the swift movements of Aegon and Baelon. She had always been a spirited and ambitious child, eager to prove herself in the world of martial training.

Meanwhile, Visenya tugged at Alicent's dress, her wide eyes filled with curiosity. "Mother, can I have a wooden sword too?"

Alicent knelt down to meet her youngest daughter's gaze, a gentle smile adorning her lips. "When you're a bit older, my sweet Visenya. But for now, let's enjoy watching your brothers."

Visenya nodded, her excitement undeterred as she clung to Alicent's leg, her eyes never leaving the training yard.

Together, Maekar and Alicent watched their children with a mix of pride and love. As the sparring match continued, Maekar glanced at Alicent, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. Alicent leaned her head on Maekar's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Princess Alicent, Prince Maekar," a voice called from behind them, and both turned to see a servant bowing to them. "Princess Rhaenyra has given birth to a boy."

"Have the babe brought to our chambers at once," Alicent ordered, and the servant rushed off at once. The husband and wife walked back to their chambers, leaving their children in the care of Ser Criston.

Over the past ten years Rhaenyra had given birth to two sons, both black of hair, neither bearing resemblance to Ser Laenor nor much of Rhaenyra, but bearing resemblance to Ser Harwin Strong. Maekar and Alicent, both wanting to protect their family and their prides for years to come, was trying to make Viserys see sense.

The future King and Queen had only been in their chambers for two minutes when the door was pushed open and in walked and Ser Laenor walked in with Rhaenyra who was holding the babe in her arms. All though the relationship between the two Targaryen siblings had grown bitter over time, Maekar was still concerned.

"Rhaenyra! You should be resting after your labors," Alicent said in fake concern, noting the handmaidens bustling around in her chambers.

"I have no doubt that you would prefer that, Alicent," said Rhaenyra, her voice filled with sarcasm.

"You must sit," Maekar ordered his sister, pulling out a chair for her. "Talya, fetch a cushion for the Princess."

"There's no need," Rhaenyra dismissed. "Thank you, brother."

"Nonsense," Alicent shook her head, turning towards one of her handmaidens. "We'll finish this later," the handmaiden bowed, all of them leaving the room, not before bowing to Viserys who had just entered.

"What happy news this morning," Viserys' smile was wide and full of joy. Overtime the rot that had consumed his body had made him grow weaker, and with age too he was balding.

"Indeed, Your Grace," Ser Laenor bowed his head.

"Where is he? Where is my grandson?" Ser Laenor handed the King the babe. "There. There he is. Oh. A fine Prince. Sturdy. You will make a fearsome knight," Viserys coo'd. Maekar knew that deep down Viserys must've known that Rhaenyra's children were bastards. "Yes, you will," he added softly.

"Does the babe have a name yet?" Alicent asked.

"We haven't spoken--" Rhaenyra began.

"Joffrey," Ser Laenor cut her off. "He'll be called Joffrey."

"That's an unusual name for a Velaryon," Alicent replied, looking from Ser Laenor to Rhaenyra.

"Fit for a bastard," Maekar whispered to himself, but Ser Laenor heard and glared at the Crown Prince.

"I do believe he has his father's nose," Viserys smiled and Ser Laenor chuckled. "Don't you?" Viserys added softly.

"If you don't mind, Your Grace, your daughter has exerted herself heroically and should rest," said Ser Laenor, clearing his throat. Alicent stepped in before Viserys could place the boy in Ser Laenor's arms. Both Maekar and Alicent looked down at the babe, seeing light skin and a dark tuft of hair atop its head which confirmed their suspicions.

"Well done, my girl," Viserys said softly to Rhaenyra's, kissing her cheek. "I do hope the labor was easy."

"I think I called the midwife a cunt," both Viserys and Maekar laughed softly.

"Oh, that doesn't matter, Moira called me that when she gave birth to Maekar and Visenya," Maekar's fake smile faltered at the mention of the mother he never had. It was a reminder of the mother he could've had in Aemma Arryn, the one he pushed away.

"Do keep trying, Ser Laenor," Alicent said softly to Ser Laenor, out of earshot of the three Targaryen's. "Soon or late, you may get one who looks like you."