𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙑𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙩.

"Princess Visenya, it has been so long since we were granted the joy of your and your family's presence."

She eyed the brunette. "Yes, I remember you demanding an organ from me." Visenya subconsciously rubbed the underneath of her left eye. "Indeed, it has been too long, your Grace."

"Have you seen Aemond? He'll be pleased to hear of your visit."

Her lips purse. "I've heard. I spoke with Aemond earlier, he complains of his lack of wife."

"I suppose it is a shame."

"How come you haven't made a match? Aegon and Helaena were arranged quickly." There was a hint of humour, mocking, in her tone.

Alicent grits her teeth at the subtle joke. "When you find a girl in Westeros willing to marry a fragmented, one-eyed man, send her to my chambers."

"You've certainly got an eye for decor, I noticed the stars."

"The emblems of the Seven serve to guide us on an uncertain path."

"I trust your authority will sit in judgement on my inheritance."

"Correct. Clever girl." Alicent derides. "But be assured, the Father is just."

⚔

"Smaller than I remember."

"Don't be silly, Lucerys, it looks exactly the same." Visenya laughs, observing the training grounds where she spent hours with, and watching, her brothers and father.

Her father. She thinks of him.

"Come on." Jacaerys insists. The pair of boys spoke of anecdotes as she stood by the weaponry, her mood progresses towards sour as she stares at her persisted. "What's your problem?"

She shrugged. "I don't appreciate being stared at, like meat."

Lucerys sighs. "No one would be questioning you being heir if it weren't for us looking more like Ser Harwin Strong rather than Ser Laenor Velaryon. You should be allowed to announce your engagement."

The princess lays down the dagger, ruffling her younger brother's dark hair. "It doesn't matter what they think. We are Velaryons."

"You're going to be a Stark." The eldest nudges her. 

A loud noise, too quick to recognise, had occurred behind them. Jacaerys drags his siblings toward the fight, watching the aggressive confrontation between two men.

A sliver of white hair is seen during the conflict. "Is that-"

"Aemond." Visenya answers her brother, her eyes fixated on him, somewhat proudly as Aemond rid himself of his damaged shield, dodging every attack thrown his way. He pushes the tip of his blade against Criston's neck, eliciting a series of clapping from the crowds. 

"Well done, my prince. You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys. Nephews, have you come to train?" She shoots the winner a pointed look.

Before one could respond, a call. "Open the gate!"

The gates pull open slowly, a swarm of men entering in perfect form carrying banners of house Velaryon, Vaemond residing in the centre. They passed by, the training ground now silent without the commotion of flagholder's footsteps.

The eldest prince is quick to loop his arm through hers, stealing her away from her siblings. "And where are we going?"

Aemond smirks, a tedious expression she secretly adored. "You specifically wished for us to speak later. Now is later."