𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝘼 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘿𝙞𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣.

𝘿𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙪𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙃𝙞𝙜𝙝 𝙑𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙣. 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨.

Flipping the page of a book she can't quite remember the name of, she ignors his incessant staring, pretending to remain blissfully unaware.

"How come you don't call me strong?"

Her words snap him out of whatever trance had captured his attention. "What?"

Visenya repeated herself. "You call my brothers strong boys, how come I'm not strong? Is it because I'm a girl?" He thinks he hears a bout of offence in her tone.

His lips contort into a small smirk. "I don't think you're strong," Aemond ignors her pout, tucking her astray silver hair behind her ear, admiring the braid. "you're too pretty to be strong." 

There's a sense of secrecy in his words, a hidden meaning, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Perhaps it was because he is older, wiser, and maybe she too would understand in four years when she is his age and laugh about her foolishness as a young girl.

"What use is it, being pretty?"

He opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by a handmaid. "Princess, your mother has finished her labours."

"Thank you." The maid scurries off as Visenya stands from the grass, dusting her skirt of any debris while her book lays abandoned next to him. 

"Where are you going?"

Her smile is slightly confused. "To go see my mother."

"Stay a little longer." Aemond urges.

She shakes her head, certain. "We've been sitting here for hours, my brothers picked a dragon egg for the baby without me." He only huffs in return. "Oh, Aemond, how I truly wish I could sit with you forever, but hours is enough for today."

Her declaration had boosted his normally low confidence. "Then why don't you?"

"Hm?"

"Sit with me, forever."

Once again, there's a mystical nature to his words that she shakes off, giggling slightly in her girlish manner. "Don't be silly, we both have commitments." She reminded. "How do I look?"

"You look pretty."

⚔

Rhaenyra settles into the sofa, the unbearable pain below her waist forcing her to grit her teeth as her sons displays the dragon egg they chose for their new sibling that now rested in the arms of Ser Harwin.

"Where is the princess?" She queries, strain present in her voice.

The chamber door flings open, a breathless Visenya enters the room. "Sorry, I'm late, mama." She kisses her mother's cheek. 

"You ought to be a little earlier when meeting your brother. Where were you this time?" Laenor does his best to seem disappointed, evidently failing with the tiniest smile when looking down at his newest son.

"I was outside, with Aemond. It's a boy?"

"What you and that boy talk about all day will forever escape me."

The older princess caresses the girl's cheek, a small smile playing at her lips. "His name is Joffrey."

"Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" Lucerys pleads.