[Dorne - Sunspear]

Alysanne was grateful she had sent the letter when she had, urging Laenor to return to Dorne for the birth of their child.

Now, she lay in the soft, cool embrace of her bedchamber, the scent of lavender and sweetgrass thick in the air. Sweat beaded on her brow as she gripped the sheets with all her strength, her silver hair plastered to her neck. The contractions grew stronger, closer together, and she knew her time was near.

Outside, Laenor waited with bated breath. He had arrived from Driftmark just in time, his purple eyes reflecting the anxiety he felt. Despite his preference for male companionship, he understood the gravity of this moment and the love that bound him to Alysanne. He paced the stone corridors, the echoes of his steps mingling with the distant howls of the dragons beyond the dome. The anticipation was palpable, a taut string stretched to its limit, waiting to snap.

Maestar Caleotte's calm voice wafted from the chamber, offering gentle instructions and reassurances. Arianne held Alysanne's hand, her eyes never leaving her cousin's face, willing her strength. The contractions grew more intense, and Alysanne's cries pierced the air, a raw, primal sound that seemed to resonate with the very stones of the castle. The midwives moved around her with practiced ease, their hands sure and steady.

Elaenys, the pearl white dragon with purple eyes, stirred restlessly in the dragon's dome, her tail lashing against the stone floor. The dragon's distress mirrored Alysanne's, and the other dragons, Visemyria and Aegarax, watched their sibling with concern. The deep purple dragon, Aegarax, let out a low, mournful rumble, feeling the bond between them all tighten like a bowstring.

The contractions grew unbearable, and Alysanne's silver hair became a tapestry of sweat and effort. Arianne's grip on her hand tightened, her own knuckles white with the effort of providing comfort. Alysanne took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to focus on the rhythm of the waves outside her window, the only constant in the chaos of her pain. She could hear the whispers of the midwives, the soft chanting of a prayer to the Mother, and the calm, steady voice of Maestar Caleotte.

"Don't let me die," Alysanne pleaded with her cousin.

Arianne's eyes were filled with a determination that mirrored the roars of the dragons outside. "You won'," she assured, her voice, strong and steady. "You're going to be fine."

She knew of the Targaryen women's tragic history when giving birth. It made sense for Alysanne to be afraid.

"Breathe, Your Grace," Maestar Caleotte instructed calmly, his eyes never leaving Alysanne's distended belly. His hands were slick with her sweat and the fluids of life, as he worked to bring new life into the world. The dragons' cries grew louder, as if they too were feeling her pain.

Alysanne's eyes squeezed shut, and she let out a scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. The pressure was unbearable, a living force pushing against her from the inside. Then, with a final, agonizing effort, she felt her child begin to emerge. The maester's voice grew more urgent, and the midwives' hands moved with greater speed.

Maestar Caleotte's face grew tense as he worked tirelessly, his hands coated in a slick sheen of sweat and blood. "One more push, Your Grace," he urged, his eyes focused on the task at hand.

Alysanne's chest heaved as she obeyed, her purple eyes squeezed shut, the agony of her contractions peaking. With a final, animalistic roar, she bore down and felt the unmistakable sensation of life slipping from her body. The midwives worked quickly, a flurry of movement around her, and then she heard the sweet, squalling cry of a newborn.

"Finally," she said, collapsing against the bed.

But, it didn't last long.

The pain returned, stronger than ever. Another contraction ripped through her, and Alysanne's eyes flew open, a silent scream tearing from her chest. "Maestar, what is happening?" she gasped out.

Maestar Caleotte looked up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You're blessed by the gods, Your Grace," he exclaimed. "You're bearing twins."

Alysanne's eyes widened, fear briefly overshadowing her exhaustion. Twins were rare among the Targaryens, and often came with great risk. But she had no time to dwell on the implications as another contraction gripped her, demanding her full attention. Arianne squeezed her hand tighter, her own eyes reflecting the fiery spirit of Dorne as she encouraged Alysanne to push once more.

Maestar Caleotte's face was a mask of concentration as he worked, his voice steady and calming amidst the cacophony of Alysanne's cries and the dragons' echoing roars. The midwives moved in a well-rehearsed dance around the bed, preparing for the second child's arrival. Alysanne bore down with all her might, her body straining against the ancient Targaryen legacy that seemed to both gift and curse her line.

As the second child crowned, the dragons' cries grew louder, a symphony of anticipation and concern that seemed to resonate with every contraction. Alysanne felt the familiar agony, the pressure that seemed to consume her whole being. Then, with a final, guttural push, the baby slid free, a wail joining its sibling's in the warm, fragrant air.

Maestar Caleotte held the second newborn aloft, a glistening bundle of life. A boy, with the same light olive complexion and a head of fine silver hair as his sister. His eyes, when they finally opened, were a brilliant purple, a clear sign of his Valyrian heritage. Alysanne's breath hitched in her chest as she beheld the tiny, perfect face.

"You have a son, Your Grace," he announced, his voice filled with pride. "And a daughter. They are both healthy and strong."

The midwives cleaned and swaddled the twins, the girl first, then the boy. The room was a blur of motion and emotion, a stark contrast to the serene stillness that had existed moments before. Alysanne's chest heaved with exhaustion, but she managed a smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Let me see them," she whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Maestar Caleotte handed her the babies, one by one. She took the girl, and held her close, feeling the warmth of new life against her skin. The girl's tiny purple eyes searched hers, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then she took the boy, and felt the same connection, his grip on her finger as strong as the bond she shared with Elaenys. They were her legacy, her hope for the future.

"They're perfect," Alysanne murmured. She looked over at Arianne, whose eyes were filled with a mix of awe and relief. "Thank you for being here."

Arianne squeezed her hand. "Thank the gods they are well," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

The door opened, allowing Laenor to enter.

He walked in with a tentative step, his eyes searching the room. Alysanne lay in the bed, her skin flushed and tired, but her eyes sparkled with joy. In her arms, she cradled the newborn twins, a boy and a girl, both with light olive complexions and wisps of silver hair. The sight of them brought a warmth to his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Maestar Caleotte looked up from his examination of the babies and offered Laenor a weary but triumphant smile. "Congratulations, Lord Velaryon. You have a healthy son and daughter. Their eyes are a true testament to the ancient blood that flows in their veins."

The sound of the dragons' roars grew quieter, as if they too had felt the tension ease with the successful birth of their kin. Laenor stepped closer to the bed, his gaze lingering on the twins before meeting Alysanne's eyes. "They are... magnificent," he murmured, his voice filled with wonder and pride. "Have you decided on names?"

Alysanne nodded weakly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "We shall name them Corlys and Valaena," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For the legendary Lord of the Tides and the mother of the Conquerors."

Laenor's eyes lit up with approval. "Beautiful names," he said, approaching the bed. He leaned in to press a tender kiss to Alysanne's forehead, his hand briefly touching hers.

The babies squirmed in their mother's embrace, their purple eyes opening to gaze at the world for the first time. Corlys had the fiery spirit of a dragon in his gaze, while Valaena's was softer, more introspective. Alysanne knew in that instant that they were both a part of her, bound by blood and destiny.

"Look," she whispered to Laenor, her voice hoarse from the exertion. "Look at them."

Laenor leaned closer, his eyes widening as he took in the babies' purple eyes. It was a stark reminder of the ancient lineage they shared with the dragons themselves. The weight of the moment was not lost on him, nor on the others in the room. The Sand Snakes had gathered at the doorway, their expressions a mix of curiosity and respect. Even Lady Elinda and Lady Gwyneth had paused in their duties to witness the birth of the future dragonriders.

The midwives bustled around, tending to the new mother and her precious cargo, but the atmosphere in the room was charged with the energy of the dragons outside. Visemyria, the obsidian dragon, let out a thunderous roar, as if announcing the arrival of the new heirs to the Targaryen throne. Alysanne's eyes searched for Laenor's, finding his gaze as overwhelmed as hers. Despite the exhaustion etched into every line of her face, she felt a surge of determination. These children would not just survive; they would thrive, and together, they would restore their family's legacy.

As Laenor took a seat beside her, Alysanne gently placed the twins into his arms. The sight of the silver-haired babes nestled against his purple tunic was a picture of unity and hope. Corlys, the boy, squirmed and opened his eyes to reveal their vibrant purple hue, a mirror to Alysanne's own. Valaena, the girl, was quieter, but her gaze was no less intense as she studied her father's face.

The Sand Snakes, Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene, pushed past the midwives to get a closer look. They whispered among themselves, their eyes flicking from the babies to Alysanne and back again. Their curiosity was mixed with a newfound respect for the woman who had endured so much to ensure the continuation of their line.

As Alysanne watched the babies in Laenor's arms, she couldn't help but feel a sense of peace. Despite the turmoil in the world beyond the lands of Dorne, she had brought new life into it, a testament to the resilience of House Targaryen. The dragons had recognized this too, their cries gradually subsiding into a gentle hum of contentment.

The midwives and maestars had retreated to the corners of the room, allowing the new parents a moment of quiet. The twins, Corlys and Valaena, were nestled into the crook of Laenor's arms, their eyes closed in sleep, oblivious to the gravity of their existence. The soft light from the flickering candles danced across their tiny faces, casting shadows that played with the silver in their hair.

Alysanne lay back against the pillows, her breaths still ragged but her grip on Laenor's leg firm. She couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment and fear mingled together. Twins were rare in any family, and the Targaryen history with childbirth was fraught with tragedy. Yet, here they were, a boy and a girl, both born with the purple eyes of their mother and father.

The midwives and maestars hovered around, whispering in hushed tones, ensuring both mother and babies remained in good health. The dragons outside had quieted, their cries replaced by the occasional soft croon that seemed to resonate with the gentle sighs of the newborns. Alysanne knew they were watching, feeling their bond as strongly as she did.

Arianne stepped closer, her eyes misty with tears. "They are beautiful," she murmured, reaching out to touch the baby girl's cheek with a trembling finger.

Maestar Caleotte cleared his throat, interrupting the momentary silence. "Your Grace, there is something else you should know."

Alysanne looked up at him, her eyes heavy with fatigue but sharp with curiosity. "What is it?"

Maestar Caleotte paused, his expression a mix of awe and concern. "While you were in labor, something... extraordinary happened. The dragonkeepers have informed me that Elaenys has laid a clutch of eggs."

Alysanne's eyes snapped to his, disbelief etched on her face. "Elaenys? But she's so young," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Maestar Caleotte nodded solemnly. "It is indeed unusual, but not unheard of. Dragons can conceive at a young age, much like cats. It is said that a dragon may lay eggs when its rider is with child, as if to share in the creation of life. But the truth is, we know very little of dragons. They are a mystery even to us."

Alysanne felt a mix of awe and fear. "How many eggs?"

Maestar Caleotte held up three fingers. "Three, Your Grace."

Alysanne did not know what this meant. Would she place two of the eggs in her children's cradle, or would they bond with Alysanne's grown unclaimed dragons?

Alysanne's heart raced with excitement and fear. "Where are they? Can I see them?"

Maestar Caleotte nodded. "They are in the dragon's dome, under careful watch. I shall have them brought to you when it is safe to do so."

The idea that the dragons could still hold such secrets, such miracles, after so many years of being extinct was almost too much to comprehend.

The dragonkeepers had been astonished themselves, their whispers reaching the ears of those in the castle. The news spread through the corridors like wildfire, igniting a frenzy of excitement and wonder. It had been centuries since anyone had seen a dragon's eggs.

There were many rumours of where such eggs could be found.

One such place was in Winterfell.

It was believed that upon his visit to secure the allegiance of House Stark, Jacaerys Velaryon, the eldest son of Queen Rhaenyra, left behind at least one dragon egg.

His dragon, Vermax, was thought to have laid a clutch of eggs in the crypts of Winterfell.

But no one had seen the eggs in all this time, not even during Robert's Rebellion. It was as if they had vanished with the dragons themselves.

Vanished... or were hidden.

The whispers grew louder, a chorus of astonishment that seemed to shake the very walls of the castle. Alysanne felt a thrill run down her spine as she considered the implications. Could it be true? Could there be more dragons waiting to be born, to rise from the ashes of their ancestors and take to the skies once again? It was a hope she had clung to, a dream that had fueled her determination to claim what was rightfully hers.

What would allow her to avenge her family.

But, more importantly, to see Aegon's dream through.

For a Targaryen to sit the Throne.

A Queen strong enough to unite the realm.

And ensure the world was to survive.

The birth of her children and the subsequent laying of eggs was only the beginning.

The beginning of the resurrection of House Targaryen, and by extension, House Velaryon.

Alysanne felt she was truly living up to her moniker as the "Phoenix".

Like the mythological bird, she was resilient and determined.

Maestar Caletto's revelation of the dragon eggs filled the room with a sense of wonder. The bond between dragon and Targaryen was legendary, but the phenomenon of a dragon laying eggs in sync with a rider's own childbirth was almost mythical. The whispers grew into hushed conversations, as the reality of the situation began to settle. House Targaryen was on the cusp of a rebirth, not just through the birth of her twins, but with the potential of new dragonriders to come.

The phoenix was a symbol of rebirth and renewal, rising from the ashes of its predecessor. It seemed almost preordained that with the birth of Corlys and Valaena, she would be the catalyst for the resurgence of her house and the dragons that had once made them so powerful.

Alysanne had always felt a deep connection to the phoenix, her personal moniker. She had faced trials and adversities that would have broken a lesser person. Yet here she was, bringing forth new life amidst the ruins of the past. The eggs laid by Elaenys and the arrival of her twins were a testament to this, a literal manifestation of the phoenix rising from the ashes.

Her thoughts swirled with the implications of the dragon eggs. If they were indeed viable, it would mean that the Targaryen line was not as endangered as once believed. The very idea that she might be able to pass on the legacy of her ancestors was intoxicating.

But as Alysanne watched her sleeping twins, she was brought back to reality with the gentle reminder that she had duties to attend to. Her ladies and the midwives hovered nearby, eager to care for both her and the babies. She knew the time for celebration would come, but for now, she needed to regain her strength.

With the joy that came with the birth of her children, there was also fear.

When her family had dragons, the people viewed them as Gods.

With the dragons gone, they were inbred monsters.

Especially her grandfather.

The last Targaryen to rule before her family's usurpation, Aerys' reign marked yet another dark chapter in her family's history.

Alysanne had heard the whispers since she was a child. Her grandfather's madness had been a slow descent, a tragic unraveling of a man's mind. It was said that the Targaryen line's propensity for madness was a result of their inbreeding, a tapestry of bloodlines woven too tightly together. But she had always felt there was more to the story than that. Something deeper, something that even the scholars had not uncovered.

The Targaryens had suffered countless tragedies. Though, to Alysanne, this was overlooked in favour of their relatives who committed atrocities.

It made painting a certain narrative of the Targaryens easier if others could be convinced that they were driven mad due to incest rather than tragedy.

Perhaps it was a combination.

After all, more than one thing could be true at the same time.

prophecies and dreams may have also played a role.

Aegon's Dream.

A dream that foretold the end of the world as they knew it.

Unless a Targaryen was seated on the Iron Throne, one strong enough to convince the lords and ladies of the realm to cast aside their petty squabbles to face the true threat, their world would cease to exist.

And it wouldn't matter then who was seated on the Iron Throne.

Or which family was the wealthiest.

Which could field the largest army, or amass the largest navy.

They'd be dead.

And, nothing they did in life would matter.

Alysanne's father, Rhaegar had become obsessed with prophecies.

Described as a melancholic child, he preferred books to swords.

Though, one day, this changed.

When he stumbled upon two prophecies.

The first; "The dragon must have three heads".

According to her uncles, her father believed he needed three children, despite knowing his wife, Alysanne's mother was in poor health.

Her mother was willing to risk everything, including her own life, to bring forth a third child.

Yet, er father did not even know about her.

He had already fled with Lady Lyanna, when the maestar confirmed that Elia was pregnant.

But, apparently, another prophecy, the Song of Ice and Fire, Aegon's dream, which foretold of the Prune That Was Promised, had completely consumed her father.

No one could say for certain what prompted Rhaegar to abduct a betrothed lady from a Great House.

But, what was certain, was the devastating aftermath that followed.

Robert's Rebellion.

The event that saw the end of Targaryen monarchs.

Because of this, the birth of a Targaryen was no longer viewed with admiration (and caution), but with disgust and loathing.

If House Targaryen was to go extinct, Alysanne was sure there would be many who would celebrate.

No longer having to dear the dragonlords that once ruled the skies.

Yet, they were wrong.

House Targaryen was here... and growing.

Though she did not wish to rule with an iron fist or be quick to burn anyone, when she looked at her children, she knew she would do so in a heartbeat, if it meant keeping them safe.

That is a parent's goal. To keep their child safe, and to ensure they grew up knowing that they are loved.

For Alysanne, that was no different.

With the dragon eggs and her twins, the future looked less bleak.

Soon, House Targaryen would be restored to its former glory.

And with it, she would do everything in her power to ensure her people would no longer suffer under the Iron Throne.