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 Thirty-Six: An Idea and an Egg
Vhaela Targaryen
I stare at the empty sheet of paper in front of me. This will now be my twentieth letter to Aemond and Helaena. My letters have still yet to make them send word back to me. It has now almost been eight moons since the incident with Aemond.
Eight moons without seeing him.
Eight moons without hearing from her.
The thought causes my heart to clench in despair. But no matter how many letters I write I knew that I would continue to write until I received one. I would not give up hope on them. On our friendship. It was all I had right now.
So, I grab my pen that rests on the side of my desk and begin to write to my friends.
Helaena & Aemond,
I have still not heard anything from you in some time. I have grown way past the way of worrying and I am desperate to hear back from you. My nameday has recently passed and it was awful without you two. I cannot believe that I am fifteen as of now. I wish I could have spent it with you. I know soon Aemond will have his nameday. I will have to send his gift through our letters. I hope Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are well and happy. I miss you both terribly please write back. Just know that I love you.
Love,
Vhaela
I drop the pen down on the side of my desk and stare at the letter in front of me. A frown forms as I inspect it. I then move to slowly fold the letter up in a scroll to send to maester Gerardys. Once I finish, I slump back into my chair with a prominent pout on my lips.
A heavy sigh escapes from me and I turn my head slightly trying to ignore my feelings toward the letter. My eyes find the dragon egg that sits in the fire chamber. Its bright green scales have since faded gradually over time.
I stare at the egg with my pout. I knew that it wouldn't hatch. I just had a feeling deep down within me that this was not my dragon. But as I stare at the egg more and more my pout begins to gradually fade. My eyes widen.
I quickly move out of my seat and rush over to the egg. My mind is racing in thought at my idea. As I approach the egg above the small flames that flow from the bottom, I reach my hand out. My right-hand hovers over the egg slowly moving to touch it.
But as my fingers just reach the egg my eyes gaze at the burn scars that run along my palm to my inner forearm. Instantly my hand retreats from the egg in a swift motion. A soft breath flees my mouth, and my body relaxes as I squat in front of the egg.
