After enduring a loveless marriage for many years, the Rogue Prince was believed to be incapable of fathering a child with his Bronze Bitch. However, a miraculous event shatters this notion with the birth of Vhaela Targaryen. Raised in the confines...
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Chapter Nine: The Crying Princess
Vhaela Targaryen
It has been exactly two moons since my father's abrupt departure. I have not heard anything relating to him since, but it was not for a lack of trying. I have been pestering the queen every day for news of my father but time and time again there was nothing.
I would have expected him to have returned by now. His last adventures were never this long and when he was away, he would at least send me a raven or two. But from this point, I had not received anything from him.
It was starting to worry me. What if there was another war raging on and that was why everyone is refusing to talk about him with me? Or what if he is missing and they haven't been able to find him? Or worse what if he died?
I shake my head at my thoughts trying to get rid them of residing in my head. My eyes focus back on my lesson with my septa. She is right now showing us the best way to stitch. It was incredibly boring, but I found that it was good at keeping my mind busy.
So, with Helaena sitting next to me we listen to the steps that our septa take in sewing a design. The morning goes by swiftly as we weave in and out of a piece of cloth. I have poked and prodded myself beyond imaginable.
Helaena was doing wonderful as always making neat and tight lines within her design. The septa looks at her snitching and compliments it but when she looks at mine, she just hums out in disapproval. I knew my butterfly didn't look as beautiful as Helaena's but it still slightly resembled one.
That must count for something.
With the septa's lack of a compliment, Helaena gives me a soft smile and says, "I think yours is beautiful."
My eyes are bright at her words and a smile forms on my lips. The septa turn away and walks off out of Helaena's chamber. With her gone I throw my design against another chair and get up off the couch I shared with Helaena.
I turn my head and give her a small smile and then head toward her bookcase that is littered with books. My hands roam in midair as I read the titles on the spine. The one I have been continuously reading catches my eye and I snatch it.
I bring it to a nearby table and begin to flip through the large pages trying to find where I left off. Helaena counties to work on her stitches and sometimes glances my way as she weaves in her thread. However, my eyes are glued to the story in front of me describing the tale of Aegon's Conquest.
It still amazed me that Helaena's brother was named after this great warrior. From the short time I have known him, he was nowhere near the man that was described in this book. Then there were his sister-wives who I was enamored with.
Especially with Visenya who the true warrior among her younger siblings was. She even rode the formidable dragon, Vhagar. Together the two were victorious in many battles and the noblemen feared her. Rightfully so.
