The Black Death

XVII: Family affairs

Daemon stood up once more and walked up to Visenya, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You had your chance to prove yourself today, and it took too long."

Visenya nudged her shoulder to get Daemon's hand off of her. But he persisted and turned her back to face him.

"But you're young. You'll get better," he tried to reassure her, but all she heard was "it took too long."

As he passed her to leave Rhaena's room, he stopped by the door without turning around to face her.

"Just remember. The enemy does not give you the courtesy of waiting." The words hurt for Daemon to say. He'd never want to imagine any of his children having to face off their enemies. That was their father's job. Protecting this family, keeping them all safe. But at the same time, he knew that raising his sons and daughters to be sheltered would be a grave mistake, a mortal one, even, especially when he saw the potential that Visenya, Baela, and Jacearys had.

Visenya was left to stand in the middle of her sister's room. Her fingers fidgeted with her dress, the green hue now more a symbol of her failure than a mockery of the Queen or anyone else. All she wanted at that moment was to rip off that dress, summon Vermithor and fly back to Dragonstone. She wanted to scream and resurrect Vaemond just to show Daemon and everyone else that she could kill him herself. That she was a threat. She would protect her family.

But all she could do now is stand in that room.

"You had your chance. And you took too long."

Visenya grabbed the pitcher of wine that stood in every royal's room from Rhaena's table and walked out of her room. She knew Rhaena would not mind; both Baela and Rhaena had developed a love for Pentoshi wine and a terrible dislike for any "rubbish" made in King's Landing.

.

.

.

The sun had set a few hours prior, and the preparations for a family dinner had almost come to an end. The servants were scattered across the castle - the cooks putting finishing touches on their dishes, the musicians going over the melodies to play for the evening, the maids lighting candles while the others readied the royal family itself, bringing jewels to the princesses, brushing their hair, and helping each member get dressed.

"Visenya, we're waiting for you," a knock on the door.

And again.

And-

The door swung open. The princess, now dressed in a long, black velvet dress, looked more ready to attend a funeral than a family gathering. Though the silver bodice and headpiece that sparkled, reflecting the many lights around the castle, offered a sense of regal beauty instead of resembling a grim mourning outfit completely. Still, her face was nothing more than irritated, with a hint of drunkenness in her eyes that was no doubt just going to get worse.

"Don't you look festive, sister," Baela looked her up and down and grabbed her arm to tug her out of her room and maybe shake her out of her misery while she was at it.

Rhaena had chosen to don the colors of their father's house, wearing a burgundy dress. On each of the sleeves followed an intricate gold design resembling a dragon. Baela, as she had for the last four years, had chosen to embrace her mother's side, once more choosing a midnight blue gown, simpler than Rhaena's in design, other than being decorated with the Velaryon sigil - a tiny silver seahorse - placed at the middle of her dress neckline.

The three young women made their way through the halls towards the dining hall, where the rest of their family - and the greens - were almost done gathering.