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 Eleven: New Sisters
Vhaela Targaryen
It has been around a year since the arrival of the new prince. The ugliness of his birth has since faded away and in its place blooms a beautiful babe. Often time Helaena and I would try and play with him as best as he could.
It was not much.
He would though sit and stare into oblivion as I read stories to him. This was perhaps the only time he would not make a fuss. Well, that and whenever Heleana or I held him. Although Aegon had wished for a brother he never spent any time with him.
Always making the excuse that the child did not understand him and was useless. I didn't disagree with his statement, so I stopped pestering him about it. Aemond would often join me in Daeron's chambers where I would teach them High Valyrian.
I had just gone done with Aemond's lesson in Daeron's chamber and exit. Around the royal wing, there are hardly any people or servants that stare nearby. However, it was the most guarded part of the castle with many guards swarming.
I give a soft smile to each of the guards as I pass them. Some hardly even notice while others make a weak attempt at a smile which only makes mine grow more. I always found it amusing to see burly men smile.
With the giant smile still on my face, I walk around the hallways. My long red dress swishes with each step I take. I run my hands through it, and I notice my smile begins to slowly disappear. The ring that is attached to my finger makes me stop in place.
The dragon ring was a constant reminder of my father. Even though the mere sight of it would somber my mood I still refuse to take it off. Without my father here it was the only thing that reminded me of him that I could have constantly.
I spare it one last glance and swing my hand down aggressively toward my side. The feeling of wetness falling down my face makes my other hand come up to my eyes. I slowly wipe the single tear that falls.
A heavy sigh falls from my lips, and I once again begin my steps around the hallway. The heavy tall door to the throne room comes into my sight. The two guards that usually stand on either side are gone which pikes my curiosity.
I swiftly make my way toward the door and quickly look behind me to see if anyone is around me. I then slowly open the door to where I can easily fit through a crack in the gap between the two doors. The heavy doors shut behind me.
The throne room was completely empty which allowed for the bottom of my shoes to echo with every step. The pillars leading to the giant throne are miles high as I look up at the ceiling. My feet move toward the throne as I'm still staring at the ceiling.
This is truly a wonderful building that was finished by Maegor. It was nothing like his reign with the soft colors on the wall. The pretty tinted windows sit right above the iron throne itself. But with how tall the throne is it is hard to see any light that escapes into the room.
