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.

"No, no, no. Back to the Dragonpit for you two before they send out a search party." The father gives his daughter a particularly pointed look for her lack of punctuality before ushering her brothers out. "Visenya, your mother wants to speak to you before you leave for the Dragonpit."

After a slight commotion from Jacaerys and Lucerys, the room had cleared and the two women were left alone. "Darling. I would prefer it if you didn't speak a word of this to anyone. Not to Jace or Luke, not to Aemond."

"Alright."

Rhaenyra admires the faint glint in the girl's eye, the subtle sparkle of honesty and a soul worthy of trust. "We women are smarter." Visenya nods quickly as she is gently pulled into her mother's side. "Soon I must return to court."

"Yes."

"Joffrey's birth has raised questions amongst the Red Keep, there are rumours."

Visenya pursed her lips. "The Queen has always been a whisperer, mama."

Rhaenyra chuckles through an exhale, she cups the pink cheek of her only girl and faces the shining eyes of trust. "When I go to court, I'm going to propose a betrothal between Jace and Helaena, and offer a dragon egg to Aemond."

While she was glad her friend would have a chance at bonding with his own dragon, the blonde huffed at her mother, crossing her arms. "Why? What do you owe them?"

"My darling, it is not about owing. With the promise of Jace and Helaena ruling together, my claim is less likely to be challenged. That way you will be to inherit Driftmark and Dragonstone."

Stood straight, her back turned, and she frowned just a little, the violet of her eyes darken, the glint disappears. "What is it?"

"I want you to marry. Aegon."

Visenya sucked in a deep breath, her line of sight is now maintained through the window. Not specifically at the outside world you could see through it, but the pattern of the stained glass. She was too young to understand the sacrifices of living in a political jail, Rhaenyra knew better than anyone, but she did nonetheless.

Aegon? Filthy, older Aegon who winks at maids and snuck out to brothels. 

⚔

Tyraxes approaches his rider, grabbing her attention. The creature stares into her eyes, fascinated with what he'd seen many times before, Visenya likes to think he was looking at her lovingly. "Call Tyraxes to heel, Princess Visenya."

"Serve." The dragon did as he is told.

A sheep enters, its rope tied to a post. As lovely as his rider was, the bleating of his dinner sounded more appealing. "Tyraxes." She calls as he inches toward the animal. "Tyraxes!"

He snaps at her order, like an impatient child. 

"Halt!"

The beast takes the command to heart, simmering down. "You must hold mastery over your dragon, princess. He is fully bound to you, but still challenges your instruction."

"I know. Dracarys, Tyraxes."

A warm cloud of the most beautiful red hue engulfed the poor sheep, reduced to nothing but ashes as the spectators, her siblings along with Aemond and Aegon, look away ever so slightly. 

The latter approaches her, slowly, quietly, he places his hands on her shoulders. "You must teach me your tricks."

"An old dog is unable to teach new tricks, Aegon." 

"And you're sure of it?"

She turns to face him with a small smirk, accompanied by his amused expression, a small whisper at the back of her skull dares to say he could be tolerable. "Of course."

Aegon's charm does not last. "Aemond, we have a surprise for you."

"Aegon, no." The eldest ignores her.

"You're the only one of us without a dragon, and we felt badly about it, so we found one for you."

Slightly fed up, he raises a brow. "A dragon? How?"

Visenya couldn't watch the situation unfold, instead turning away and fiddling with the detailing of her dress, trailing her finger along the gold stitching. She is no match against their tricks, but she can't see the shame creep onto Aemond's features.

Lucerys trots up, a pig in tow and a grin plastered onto his face. "Behold, the Pink Dread!"

The three boys soon leave him to his own embarrassment, laughing at their cruel joke and no doubt planning the next. "Don't worry, you'll have one. You can claim one someday."

"And if I don't?"

"You can have mine. Come on." She beckons, lifting her skirt to begin running after her brothers.

⚔

Court had never been a time that any member looked forward to.

The atmosphere remains thick, disagreements being sucked into the air they took in, practically choking the men that sat at the table.

"Let us be finished." Alicent concludes, dull.

Many agree, except for one. "Wait, I wish to speak." Rhaenyra's words had everybody returning to their seats. "I have felt the strife between our families as of late, my Queen. And for any offence given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house, and long before that, we were friends. My son, Jacaerys, will inherit the Iron Throne after me. I propose we betroth him to your daughter Helaena. Ally ourselves once and for all. Let them rule together."

"A most judicious proposition!"

"Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, your son, Aemond, will have his choice of them." Oh, how the princess hates the words she was to utter. Her chest pains for her kin, her most painfully understanding, obedient kin. "And we would betroth my daughter Visenya to your son, Aegon, in which they are to possess Driftmark and Dragonstone. A symbol of our goodwill."

The disturbance on the Queen's face couldn't possibly be from her 'judicious proposition'. "Rhaenyra." Her gaze travels down to her chest.

"Oh, Seven Hells." Indeed, Rhaenyra feels humbled by the universe. Written in the stars, her humiliation in court would be a taste of her own medicine after offering her daughter to a filthy boy. Although nothing had been said against the proposition on Visenya's part, it was the slight pucker of disgust on her mouth alongside the crinkle of skin above the bridge of her nose.

"My dear, a dragon's egg and two advantageous proposals is a handsome gift."

"The King and I thank you for your offer, and we will consider it duly. You must rest now, husband."

Alicent had begun making her way to her bedchambers alone after caring for her husband and disregarding the handsome offer made at court, the sound of her own shoes hitting the stone floor and bouncing off the walls, taunting her.

She jumps, letting out a terrified gasp, at the figure leaning against an open window. "Sorry, my Queen. I don't mean to frighten you."

"It's alright, Visenya." The brunette steps forward to stand next to her, eyes trailing over the younger's face. 

It'd taken her so long to notice the Valyrian features Viserys had obsessed over for so long. She found herself gaping at the deep lilac eyes that matched Rhaenyra's, and a nose that didn't seem to share a resemblance to either of her parents, but it wasn't a plain feature either. No trace of Strong. "You know, I think Aegon fancies you." 

"I'm not too sure of that." Visenya replies flatly.

With a sigh, Alicent scolded herself mentally for the weak plan developed in her head. While it was sure the Princess of Dragonstone would never give just her daughter away for little reason, the consort found herself thinking of the claim her own son would hold on a certain throne with a girl who looked to be of true Valyrian blood by his side. 

"Yes, maybe you're correct. My instincts aren't what they once were." She's met with just a tight smile. "Well, get to bed." The Queen smiles in return.

⚔

"A word?"

Laenor nods, sword in hand as Qarl retrieved water. "I have something to say actually, and you'll want to hear it first." Rhaenyra cocked her head, urging him to speak. "Your father's wife shamelessly proposed a union between Aegon and Visenya."

"I don't understand what you mean by shameless, it's what we proposed."

"She only wants a union between them. She'll only take Visenya."

Alicent, in an effort to seem nonchalant, had joined Laenor outside rather than requesting him to her chambers. "Your daughter, Visenya. She's beautiful."

"She is, she looks like her mother."

"Very smart, too. Does that come from you, Ser Laenor?"

"I would like to say so."

"Her and Aegon look good together, do they not? A fine couple."

Eyes narrowed, Laenor turned to the monarch, confused. "I've never seen them in that light. Are you insinuating something?"

She seemed rather relieved that he'd caught on to her words, no longer beating around a very large bush. "Marriage, for Aegon and Visenya. Both of them, ruling over Dragonstone and Driftmark."

He smiled. "You're considering Rhaenyra's offer, then?"

"Not necessarily."

The poor sailor's face fell, the colour nearly draining from his features."I'm sorry, but, no."

"No?"

"No. My daughter will not be marrying any of your sons."

Rhaenyra shook her head. "It's good you said no, we're finished here. We're leaving. I have been undermined and made a spectacle. They whisper about me in the corridors. Well, I leave them to it."

He nodded, sympathetically. "To Dragonstone, then?"

"We should've left years ago."

Suddenly, his attention was on Qarl for just a minuscule second, and panic replaced the blood in his body. "What of your position? You've always said if you were absent from court, she would pour her honey into your father's ear."

"The wise sailor flees the storm as it gathers." He smiled a little at the saying. "Laenor, bring him. We'll need every sword we can muster." She smiled, sincerely. 

Laenor grinned at his wife, perhaps eternally grateful for her tolerance, or kindness, he wasn't sure what to call it.