¹ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 ━━ 𝐝. 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

xi. second-born son

✧˖° 🌑 ೄྀ࿐
━ [   SONG OF SORROWS   ] ༉‧₊˚✧
x. act one... the dragon's daughter
second-born son ━ ✩・*。

— AUTUM, 112 A.C
RED KEEP, KING'S LANDING

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     SHUTTERED light filtered in through drawn curtains, diluted as it spanned over the miniature stone recollection of Old Valyria, near perfect with how much time the King dedicated to it; a piece of history he spent hours encapsulated in, determined to never allow the mistake of their forebears befall them. Struck down by their own hubris, a god expelled from the heavens, Old Valyria was a testament to how even the greatest powers could be felled by their own doing.

    Upon entering his apartments, Valerys could scarcely make out the shadow of her father's figure behind his portière, slumped in a chair. Urgency nicked her heels as she walked, mind a maelstrom of fearful outcomes; what now had befell her fool of an uncle that would require her to know, for her father — a man who hid his troubles dutifully behind a mask of indifference — to tell her? Brazen and arrogant was her uncle, but she never suspected he would ever stoop to the level of beseeching his brother for help; a second-son largely ignored for most his lifetime, Daemon learned to survive on his own, a lesson Valerys had become accustomed to with each passing month.

    With gentle hands, Valerys peeled back the barrier between her father and herself, revealing the weary man he'd become since Aemma's passing. A wound, no matter how self-inflicted, that had never properly healed, reopening with each glance to his daughters. It was no mystery to Valerys as to why Viserys often seemed uncomfortable in their presence, and while she felt pity for her father, it never extended too far. Her death was of his doing, after all.

     "Father?" spoke Valerys quietly, not wanting to startle him. Viserys drew his hand away from his face, offering his eldest a gentle smile upon glancing up. "You summoned me?"

    He nodded. "Yes. A delicate situation has arisen concerning your uncle."

     "When is it not a delicate situation with Daemon," spat Valerys, trivial resentment bubbling at the bottom of her heart. Why had he been allowed to reside at Dragonstone, her rightful castle, with no resistance? He was banished, and certainly not to there. "Truly, father, I often wonder why he has been allowed to do as he pleases with no consequences. He slandered Baleon and I, and yet you seem to have no qualms with him inhabiting my castle."

    Viserys drew in a heavy breath. "After his most recent stunt, I have reconsidered my kindness towards him."

    Narrowing her eyes, Valerys attempted to discern what exactly her father meant. It came of no surprise that Daemon had once again caused trouble that managed to worm its way into court, expelling any remaining fondness her father felt towards him, unending protection shattered by his uncaring actions. Yet, it nagged a question in her mind: what had he done? Clearly an offense worth enough that his own brother ceased protecting him.

     "What has he done now?" asked Valerys, quickly tiring of the subject. She cared little for her uncle or his pursuits, much less after his Judas kiss.

    A moment passed between them, filled with tense silence. There was a clear debate within Viserys' mind, a marathon of emotions flitting through his eyes. Slumping slightly, he gazed up at Valerys, eyes roving over her flushed cheeks. Under the eyes of her father, Valerys shrunk. Many times had he looked at her like that before he expelled the notion that she looked so very much like Aemma, a painful reminder of what they'd both lost. Valerys had never doubted her father's love for her mother, but in the end, that did nothing to save her life; perhaps she would have died either way, even without his cruel intervention, but she would never know. At least then, it would be her choice, not that of her father and Grand Maester Mellos. She would have died on her own terms, just as she wanted.