The Black Death

VII: Letters and fathers

Had anyone taken a second longer to look at her brothers and father they would have seen what she saw. The same laughter. The same eyes. Posture. Demeanor.

And then there was Visenya - the fire in her burned brighter than her mother's and her father's combined. Look wise, all she shared with Laenor was their hair color. But she shared that with her mother as well. Hell, you could say that the boys were more likely to be his sons because their hair was the same as their grandmother's.

No, all that bound Visenya and Laenor was their love for care other and everyone else's belief she was his daughter.

She knew she was. But she knew her brothers were too.

She just could not understand why the child that everyone would hope would be closest to her father was actually the furthest person from him.

"What's wrong, my dove?" a calm voice took her out of the rabbit hole she would often climb into in her mind.

Visenya had not realized the book she had in front of her had been closed the whole time. Her gaze went up to her father, who was now focusing his whole attention on her. He was listening. He was ready to help.

Help with what?

"Nothing. Well, not nothing. It's just that - " Visenya got embarrassed and started to get back into her shell that she would always put up if she started to talk about feelings. There was too much going on in her head for her to voice it all. Every self-doubt, analysis, everything meshed up into a million loud screams which outside escaped into merely a quiet stare.

Laenor got up from his table and sat down on the ground next to Visenya.

"Go on. I promise not to tell your mother."

"I did not do anything bad. It's just that..." she bit her lip, not wanting to let the words leave her mouth. If she said them out loud, that would make it real. If she didn't, it would eat her alive either way.

"Why do I feel so different."

A cold sting went through Laenor's back. How many nights had he thought the very same thing? Just a month ago had he not had this conversation with Rhaenyra? But why was it so much more heartbreaking hearing your child say those same words that escaped your lips so many times.

"Different from who?"

"You. Mom. Jace. Grandsire. Everyone."

"Now then, you look just like your mother. You act just like... Well, you act like you. That's what makes you special. What fun would it be if everyone was the same?" The words escaped Laenor's mouth without him realizing. Had somebody said those words to him growing up, how would have things changed?

Visenya looked up to meet her father's gaze. She never thought of it that way. All those years wrapped up in ancestry, in Queen Alicent's games of who is more like whom, she never stopped to ponder who she was, instead of who she was like.

Without letting herself get too wrapped up in this new discovery her father led her into, she smiled and jumped in to hug him.

"But... If it makes you feel better, I always thought I was different too. I guess that's another way we're alike."

Visenya's hug tightened. She dug her face into Laenor's chest and nodded her head quietly.

A lot can change in a week. A brother might lose a sister. A boy might lose an eye.

The night after Laena Velaryon's funeral, Visenya, Aegon, and Helaena were woken up by the Kingsguard.

A fight had broken out in the keep between Aemond, Luke, Jace, Baela, and Rhaena.