When Visenya Velaryon was born paler than the winter snows barely six moons after the wedding of Rhaenyra and Laenor, the whispers started there. Bastard. No matter how hard Rhaenyra tried to claim she was Laenor's daughter, her resemblance to Daemo...
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"Numa," Visenya read from the page.
"Seven hells, do you even know how to read? It's muña, Visenya!" Aemond groaned.
"Shut up, it's numa," She frowned and looked at the page, her breathing getting fast as she started getting frustrated. Her m's and n's kept getting mixed up and every time she tried reading, Aemond chastised her for getting it wrong.
"No wonder Laenor gave up on teaching you. M and N are different letters, get it right. I don't know how anyone could teach you how to read."
"Don't say his fucking name," She snapped. "You may continue to ridicule me but you will not mention Laenor."
Aemond sat across from her and offered her wine. "So snippy. These past years I expected you to be happy finally reunited with your real father."
"Laenor was my real father. It may have been Daemon that helped create me but that's not what makes a father. You wouldn't know, you never had a real father, just a man that only cares for one of his children."
Aemond's jaw clenched. "You disappoint me greatly. When you took my eye, I saw the dragon within. I thought maybe this betrothal wouldn't be so bad. But you're that same quiet little girl. I don't know what happened to you on Dragonstone but you are still boring."
"Thank you for the character assessment, Uncle," She shut the book.
"Why didn't you tell me you had reading problems?" He asked.
"I didn't need to give you another reason to insult me."
"Don't act so stuffy, I don't want this marriage any more than you do, but face it, it's not the worst option. I would rather have to suffer through this than marry some plain Baratheon. We're Valyrians, we are gods. There is no greater honor than carrying that on. Would you rather your mother send you off to the North or someplace worse?"
Strangely enough, he had a point. It could be much worse.
"Here, maybe this will make you lighten up; we will fake the bedding on our wedding night. I'll even let you cut me for the blood proof. I won't ever bed you until you ask me to."
"Bold of you to assume I'll ask you to," Visenya said.
"If you are anything like your mother, you have a thing for uncles. You'll be begging me soon enough," He smirked.
She rolled her eyes but held her hand out. "Deal."
He shook her hand and then wiped the sweat off his forehead. They were outside at one of the tables where he insisted upon the High Valyrian lessons. I looked over at the shore where Grey Ghost was catching fish and she smiled.
"He's the only thing I've ever seen make you smile like that. Even when you were with your brothers, they never made you smile. Why Grey Ghost of all dragons? He's not even as large as Vermithor."
