The hour was late. Visenya had spent most of it violently crying into her pillow, reminiscing about her father and thinking of all the ways she could have, no, should have saved him. Finally, exhaustion overtook her, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.
The castle was shrouded in silence. Vermithor soared above the towers, while the sea waves whispered their lullaby along the shore.
A boat stealthily approached, hidden behind the rocks.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I have to."
A cloaked figure stepped onto the beach, moving quickly to find shelter among the castle's familiar entrances, the same paths Visenya had used to sneak into the town.
As he navigated the castle's corridors, avoiding encounters with maids and guards, he eventually arrived at Visenya's chambers.
The door was guarded by Ser Axell, a young knight appointed just before the princess's arrival at Dragonstone.
Time was of the essence. The intruder seized one of the lamps that illuminated the hallway and hurled it in the opposite direction of Visenya's chambers.
"Who goes there?" Ser Axell, roused from sleep, demanded.
No response.
The knight, wary of potential danger, cast a glance around to ensure no one was approaching and hurried down the hallway to investigate. Seizing the opportunity, the cloaked man slipped into Visenya's chambers.
A hand covering her mouth roused Visenya from her sleep.
Before she could open her eyes, she instinctively grasped the dagger she always kept within reach. With her eyes squinted, she aimed it at—
Familiar deep purple eyes stared back at her.
It was a dream. Her father had come to bid her farewell in her dream.
The dagger slipped from her hand as if it were a feather.
The cloaked man gently removed his hand from her mouth, signaling her to remain silent.
He removed his hood, revealing a bald head.
A weird dream, then.
"Father?" she reached out, half-expecting him to vanish within her grasp.
But he did not.
She touched his chest, his cloak, his face.
Was this real, or was it a cruel trick of her mind?
"I don't have much time, my love."
"How... I thought you were..." Visenya stammered as she struggled to make sense of the situation.
"I know, I know. I shouldn't have come. But I had to. I had to see you. I had to apologize."
"But why?" Visenya's voice trembled, nearly loud enough to alert the guard.
"My dove, my daughter. Your mother will explain everything when the time is right. For now, I needed to come and bid you farewell in person. I couldn't bear the thought of our last goodbye being unsaid."
Visenya's eyes welled up with tears, her cheeks still damp from the ones she had shed just hours ago. She embraced her father tightly, unable to let go.
"I failed you as a father. I should have been there for you and your mother more. I see that now, but my regret cannot change the past seventeen years," Laenor spoke, tears streaming down his face as he held his daughter.
"The fault is mine, truly. I was never suited for this life, and your mother and I devised a plan to seek a better life for both of us. I know this secret will burden you, and it's selfish of me to be here. But you mustn't breathe a word of what you know."
Faults, plans, burdens—these words seemed inconsequential to Visenya now. Her father was here, alive, and safe.
About to leave.
"Why are you leaving?" she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
Laenor sighed and stepped back to meet Visenya's gaze, a privilege he thought he'd never have again.
"The Greens have been plotting since before your birth. Especially now, after the incident with Aemond, war is imminent. Your mother needs someone strong to stand beside her. Someone who will protect her, you, the boys. She needs a husband who can love and support her in a way I'm afraid I never could."
"A husband?"
"All will become clear soon. I'm sorry, Visenya. I wish... I wish I were different."
The words they had both spoken so often.
Visenya lowered her head and took Laenor's hands in hers.
"What joy would there be if everyone were the same?" Visenya whispered as she gently rubbed his hands with her thumbs.
His own words echoed back to him, causing a lump in his throat. He finally broke down, taking his daughter into his arms once more. As tears flowed down his cheeks, he stroked her hair with trembling fingers.
"I love you, my dove. Never forget that."
"I love you too, Father."
Time was running out. Any moment now, the guard would return, and Laenor couldn't risk his secret any longer.
Before departing, he removed a ring bearing the Velaryon sigil and placed it in Visenya's palm.
"I'm always with you. Always."
The ring felt like it was burning in Visenya's hand. She clutched it so tightly she thought she might crush it.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and disappeared into the night.
As she rushed to the window, she saw two hooded figures rowing away in a boat.
Further and further into the ocean.
He was gone.
But he was not dead.
Visenya stared at the ring in her hand, her heart in turmoil. In one night, she had grieved her father, been reunited with him, forgiven him, and now lost him again.
And now she carried a secret she could share with no one.
A secret her own mother wouldn't divulge.
Initially, Visenya was furious. Her mother, the person she trusted most, had lied to her. But as she contemplated the situation, as she realized her father had apologized for burdening her with the secret, Visenya understood that perhaps her mother had wanted to spare her the pain of grieving someone who wasn't truly gone.
Her brothers would be devastated. For a boy, losing a father was the most painful experience imaginable, especially so soon after Ser Harwin's death.
And her grandmother... Oh, gods. Her grandmother would now lose two children in less than a year.
And Visenya couldn't tell her the one thing that might provide comfort.
Yes, she thought.
I'm grateful to Father for telling me the truth.
But I understand why Mother tried to spare me from it.
As the boat disappeared beyond the horizon and Vermithor sensed enough peace in his rider's heart to finally rest, Visenya continued to gaze out the window. Though her heart had calmed, tears still flowed down her cheeks. She turned to her table, lit a candle, and opened the door to leave. Behind the door, now awake, Ser Axell greeted the princess.
"Your Highness, what keeps you up so late?" the knight asked, bowing his head.
"Ghosts, I fear," Visenya replied, her voice tinged with sarcasm. Although she was tired and heartbroken, the fire within her spirit remained unextinguished.
The knight blushed with embarrassment and stepped aside, accompanying her to Tyana's room.
A knock on the door.
Tyana opened her eyes and slowly moved towards the entrance. Who could be here at such a late hour? Perhaps one of the stable boys had gotten drunk. Or maybe her father had urgent business to discuss.
"Yes?" she called out, her hand on the door handle.
"It's me."
She opened the door more quickly than she could process who it was. In front of her stood Visenya, in her nightgown, her eyes bloodshot from crying, her cheeks stained the same hue. Behind Visenya stood her sworn knight.
Tyana bowed her head to the knight and allowed Visenya to enter. As the princess walked in, the knight assumed his position to guard Tyana's chambers for the night.
As the door closed, Visenya extinguished her candle and placed it on the table. Without asking or explaining, she made her way to Tyana's bed and lay down on the left side.
The bed was small, fitting for only one person. No silks, no enormous pillows, just a simple place to sleep.
Tyana looked at her friend, puzzled, but simply followed suit.
As she opened her mouth to ask what had happened, Visenya interrupted her.
"My father is dead," she said as she absentmindedly played with the ring on her finger.
Tyana's eyes welled up with tears. She quickly moved closer to Visenya and hugged her tightly. The girls lay intertwined, Visenya gazing into the distance and Tyana quietly sobbing for the loss of her best friend.
When morning came, both girls' tears had dried.
A man and his lover were far away from Westeros.
And the whole kingdom mourned the loss of Laenor Velaryon.
.
.
.
A week had passed since Rhaenyra sent the letter to Dragonstone about Laenor's passing.
Each day ate at her like a parasite from within. Each day, filled with guilt. Guilt about not being there to console her daughter. Guilt about lying to her children. More than once.
Daemon had flown in from Pentos three days ago with Baela and Rhaena. Laenor's presumed body was on a ship to Driftmark for the funeral. As the last details about their move to Dragonstone were being settled, Rhaenyra stood on the balcony, watching over the gardens.
Daemon approached his soon-to-be wife from behind.
"Ao gōntan se paktot run."
"Iksan zūgagon Visenya kessa daor shifang bona."
"Ziry jāhor."
"Ēza aōha ānogar."
Daemon's jaw tensed. The fact that both he and Rhaenyra had known for sixteen years. Visenya was his blood. After raising two of his daughters every day, he often hated himself for abandoning his firstborn. But Rhaenyra was married and had already had a child with Laenor (or Ser Harwin, depending on who you ask.) So all he would get were the tiny glimpses into his offspring's life.
On his last visit to Dragonstone, not a day went by when he didn't want to tell her. He wanted to scare her into avoiding recklessness while he wasn't there to protect her. He never imagined that Visenya would actually slit the man's throat. He wasn't disappointed. No, in his own twisted way, he was proud. Proud that she could protect herself, her family if needed.
He wanted to teach her more about their family, about life. He was proud of the women Baela and Rhaena were becoming. He was proud that Baela could hold her own in a room with any man and that Rhaena was so sweet and innocent that she wouldn't find herself in dangerous situations. Most of all, he was proud that they had each other. And soon, they would have a third sister.
He stepped closer to Rhaenyra and hugged her from behind, gently kissing her head. They were not yet wed, but they soon would be. Both of them were widowers, and they had loved each other for the last twenty years. It was an open secret. Damn anyone who would whisper now. Soon, she would finally be his, as she should have been from the start.