𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙧.

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"We join today at the seat of the sea to commit the Lady Laena of House Velaryon to the eternal waters, the dominion of the Merling King, where He will guard her for days to come. As she sets to sea for her final voyage, the Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the shore. Though their mother will not return from her voyage, they will all remain bound together in blood. Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick, ours runs true. And ours must never thin."

Vaemond's glare had attached itself to Visenya as Rhaenyra held her close, Daemon letting out a laugh. "My gentle niece, may the winds be as strong as your back, your seas as calm as your spirit, and your nets be as full as your heart. From the sea we came, to the sea we shall return."

Laena's allies and relatives have all gathered to mourn her untimely death. 

Visenya clings to her mother as they stand amid the crowd. "Go on, darling." Rhaenyra encourages, breaking her grip on her arm free.

With a visible frown etched on her face, the blonde stumbles through bodies, eventually finding a clearing by the stone steps. "Are you alright?" A deeper voice.

The voice of a man? She is too afraid to look up. "Quite alright." She squeaks out.

"My lady-" The girl looks up at the figure before her that blocks the sun from her view, and her breath catches in her throat as she steals a glance at his face. "Seven hells, I sincerely apologise, Princess."

Such a handsome face he has, the most beautiful she'd ever seen on a man, a boy, as he was nearly, maybe fully, man-grown. "It's alright." A cascade of curls sit atop his head at a shorter length than she'd seen before, certainly shorter than her brothers', barely a stubble along his jaw. "And who are you?"

She observes his face consistently, making no effort to hide her fascination, yet he is too bashful to notice. These are the features considered plain? Or was this man, or boy, so lucky as to have perfectly plain features make a perfectly handsome face? "Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

He notices how her face fell at the mention of his mature title. "Lord?"

"Well, I am yet to rule independently. You see, my uncle has kept things in order since my father died three years ago. I am now of age, but still with an advisor who believes in his own best interests."

Visenya giggles, understanding his seemingly lighthearted frustrations, not too disheartened by the hearing of his sixteenth name day. "I'm sure you'd have no trouble with ruling." She comments with a shy smile.

"Thank you for your faith, Princess."

His smile, so charming.

"Visenya. Visenya!" Aemond loops her arm through his. "Come on, let's go."

Although she had the force of a boy tugging her away, she didn't dare not bid the gorgeous specimen adieu. "It was lovely meeting you, Lord Cregan. You must come by Dragonstone to introduce yourself as Winterfell's ruler."

He chuckles. "If you insist." 

Having been finally parted from the Stark, the pair walk together, one obviously dazed. "He's lovely, isn't he?"

"Who?" The Targaryen rolls his eyes, already sure of her answer.

"Cregan."

Aemond doesn't say anything on the matter.



"It's you." Rhaena announces, finally able to see the culprit.

Aemond shamelessly confirms."It's me." 

"Vhagar was my mother's dragon."

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃Where stories live. Discover now