"Dearest,
It is with an aching heart that I have to write to you that your father has passed. Ser Qarl Correy and Laenor got into a heated argument which resulted in your father's passing. The boys and I are gathering our things and flying to you as soon as possible. The funeral will be held in Driftmark, which we will all attend together.
I am so sorry that I am not there to console you right now, but I will fly to you as soon as all the matters here are settled.
Be strong, my heart.
Love,
Mother."
Visenya looked at the letter that had arrived this morning. She had read it. Twice. No, six times. Father is dead.
Father is dead.
Laenor Velaryon is dead.
No tears escaped her eyes. In fact, she sat so still she did not even blink. Her eyes started to dry, and yet all she could do was stare at the piece of paper in her hands.
Her family is coming to Dragonstone. Yesterday, this would have been amazing news. Yesterday, she would have started to prepare a feast for her parents and siblings' arrival.
Yesterday she still thought her father was alive.
They never said goodbye. Oh, God. They never said goodbye.
A month before she left for Dragonstone, Visenya and Laenor got into a fight. Gods, what was it even about? Pathetic. Your father is dead, and you don't even remember the reason you did not say goodbye to him.
.
.
.
"Father? May I come in?" she would never ask her mother if she could come into her chambers. Her father, however, would almost always be working on something that Visenya could not see until he was finished. He often had help with said projects. And Visenya would often grow jealous that her father would ask assistance from his squires or lords rather than his children.
But that was just because she wanted to spend more time with him.
"Of course, come in!" A welcoming voice from behind the closed door.
Visenya came in with yet another book of stories in her hand.
"I thought I'd keep you company while you work on your plans for the hunt," she smiled and plopped down next to her father's writing table, where he was looking over the map of King's Landing's forests.
The man patted his daughter's head and continued writing on the map. There were not a lot of things the daughter and father shared in common, but finding comfort in shared silence was something the two of them loved. Laenor was often gone from the castle. And even when he'd be back, the boys would take up most of his time, taunting him to tell more stories of his time on the battlefield, flying Seasmoke, fighting alongside Daemon and their Grandsire.
Visenya did not care for those stories. But she did want to spend time with her father. So she would endure, as her siblings and father would rally on about blood spilling and head chopping, arrows and screams on the battlefield. As she did, she would often think to herself about the lies that flew around the castle walls.
"The strong boys and the Velaryon princess."
"The three that look nothing like him and the only one of his blood."
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.
Visenya rushed to the main hall where the bloodied children were gathered. She ran up to her brothers to make sure they were alright. Before she could ask what happened, their mother and uncle Daemon rushed into the hall as well.
As the children were screaming their reasons for the fight and the adults were bickering about who was in the wrong, Visenya sneaked a glance at Aemond.
The boy's eye was cut out.
One boy against four is not right.
He seemed like the quiet type, she thought, and her uncles and brothers always seemed to be together. She never would have imagined he shared the same animosity towards them as his mother, but then again, a boy will always listen to whatever poison his mother spits in his ear disguised as wisdom.
"Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon," the Queen demanded.
Those words sent a chill down Visenya's spine. It made her take a look at the man she had tried so hard to forget existed for the last two months.
He hesitated.
Even he would not be so foolish as to maim a child of the heir to the Iron Throne.
At least not physically.
Even though the Queen just asked for her brother's eye, somewhere deep inside Visenya thought she understood her. Her son had just lost one, she was alone in this battle, and she was tired.
Surely she did not mean it.
Visenya stepped forward.
"Your Grace, I could help him heal the eye. Mayhaps even recover it. There's a poultice that-"
"Your family has touched my son enough!" Alicent screeched out.
And then everything went blank.
Visenya remembers screaming.
A knife drawn.
Accusations that were only whispered said out loud.
And blood.
She remembers seeing red. Her thirst to cut the Queen's throat for touching her mother.
She remembers her grandsire holding her back.
She remembers a clear line drawn between the family that night.
Her mother, her brothers, her grandsire and grandmother, her uncle and cousins all standing together as one.
Her father...
Not there.
As Rhaenyra and the boy's wounds were being tended to in her chambers, Visenya sat outside, back pushed to the door.
In her hand, the Valyrian dagger that had maimed her mother.
When the queen dropped it, Visenya picked it up.
No knife would touch her mother again. No hair shall fall from her head.
As for the green queen, let her try to hurt her family again... The same might not be said.
As she sat by the door, she heard steps coming up towards the chambers.
A drunken, stumbling Laenor.
"Visenya! Are you alright?!" He picked up his pace once he saw his daughter with a dagger in hand.
"Where were you."
"I-"
"Your sons and wife were attacked."
Laenor stood still.
"Where were you."
"My love..." he leaned down to get on her eye level, trying to pick up her hand.
Visenya flinched and did not let him touch her. Her eyes only looked at the dagger in her hand.
"A father is meant to protect his children." a quiet, cold stab to the heart.
He wished she'd rather had stabbed him with the blade in her hand than the words in her mouth.
"I'm sorry."
Visenya stood up from the ground and opened the door for Laenor to go in. He tried catching her eyes, but all she did was turn around and make her way towards her own chambers.
A month had passed after that wretched night. Visenya was getting ready to leave for Dragonstone. The night before, Rhaenyra had come to pay her daughter a visit.
"How are you, dearest?"
Visenya hadn't noticed her mother come in. The princess was putting her most precious possessions into a chest she had wished to ready all by herself. Helaena's dream journal she gave her as a parting gift, a wooden seahorse Jace had made for her as a parting gift. A dagger she would never let go of.
The girl cocked her head at her mother's voice and quickly jumped to her feet to greet her.
"The day could not come sooner. I'm beyond happy, mother."
Rhaenyra came in and led her daughter to her mirror table. As the girl sat down, her mother started brushing her hair.
"Have you said your goodbyes already?"
"Most of them, yes. Helaena said goodbye two days ago. Luke keeps hugging me each time he sees me. Jace-"
"And your father?"
Rhaenyra knew the conversation would be difficult. The two had not spoken in a month. After the incident, Laenor had really turned a page and put all of his efforts into tending to the family. He joined every meal, he trained the boys, he attended the council gatherings with Rhaenyra. But Visenya... She would not recognize his efforts. Each morning, she would take her plate to eat in her room. Soon, Laenor would only join the dinner three times a week, so that the girl would at least eat with the rest of her family the times he was absent. Rhaenyra's heart ached for them both. She knew Visenya loved her father, perhaps they were not as close as Rhaenyra and her, but he was her father nonetheless.
Visenya did not answer her question. She did not know how to.
As Rhaenyra kept brushing her hair, she softly tried to sway her daughter.
"My love, you're leaving for Dragonstone, gods know when you'll see him again. He's your father, he loves you deeply, and it would break his heart to have you leave without the two of you at least trying to mend things between you."
"The day when I needed a father has passed a moon ago. I do not feel ready to speak to him now."
Visenya turned around and took her mother's hand in hers.
"But... I promise, when you come visit, I will. Mayhaps the winds in Dragonstone will clear my mind and soothe my heart."
.
.
.
But the day never came.
And now, there sat a girl in Dragonstone.
Eyes as red as the blood she would spill to see her father again, and a letter ripped into a thousand pieces lying on the floor.