Chapter Text
AEMOND
Queen Alicent of House Hightower never forgot the cruelty her Lord Husband had bestowed upon her and her children, and his decisions had come to haunt King Viserys Targaryen in the latter part of his life.
It was not that King Viserys misliked his young wife those of the court reasoned, it was that a mother’s wrath could suppress a woman’s love, even a dutiful omega of impeccable breeding like that of the young Queen. There was no outward change, the Queen did not publicly disagree with her Lord-husband, she did not growl at him in the manner of most upset omega wives, she did not deny him access to their babes, she just simply did not appear. Queen Alicent assumed nothing but the barest of her responsibilities, she did not exert herself for House Targaryen or the Kingdom and though little changed during the day-to-day life of the denizens of Kingslanding, much changed in the rolling seasons that passed.
King Viserys journeyed to the Queen’s apartments within Maegor’s holdfast, a trek he had not often taken, with Ser Harrold Westerling guiding the poorly man down the unfamiliar halls. It was Ser Gwayne Hightower that stood posted outside Princess Aemond’s rooms and if he was surprised to see the King, then the brother of the Queen did not let such show on his face. The knight stepped aside allowing the King entrance but Ser Westerling was not permitted to follow, the low growl was warning enough that the other knight assumed the position at the other side of the doorway without a word.
If Viserys Targaryen were a different man and a better father, such a visit would have been more commonplace between him and his omega child. He would have memories of drawing Princess Aemond close to his chest and gentling the first omega of House Targaryen, have engrained his scent in his nostril hairs and could recall the sound of the omega's laughter. Instead, he was greeted by silence.
Unfortunately for his consciousness, he knew his fourth child would not welcome such a thing - Aemond was like a sharp flint, prickly to the touch, with a forked tongue that spewed venom. Viserys could only remember mentions of his aunts Saera and Viserra as comparable in the deadly combination of wit and beauty, but he knew both would have been pressed to maintain such beauty with a horrific scar bisecting the right side of their faces. Though not touched by fire, Aemond had been scarred by dragon’s blood so clearly that on most days Viserys could not bear to peer into his face. Thankfully, Aemond did not seek him out after his encounter with Vhagar and the loss of his eye, content to keep his distance from the king.
On this day, the third child of the Queen had stolen much of his mother’s comeliness, with long ringlets of curls the colour of pale moonlight falling down his back and cupping his cheek, covering the missing eyes. In his face, his lilac eyes were rimmed thick with kohl and there was colour to his lips and cheeks – from pinching or beets Viserys did not know unused to the newest beauty rituals of the fairer designation. With a steady hand, the princess peered through the mirror to watch Viserys’ approach, painting his lips slick with some type of warmed fat that Viserys could not identify from a distance.
Aemond did not offer his words but his eye did not leave Viserys, content to remain silent. That was a behaviour that Viserys knew to be true of Aemond, a child who rarely spoke without prompting as far as he could remember the child being able to talk.
“You are a beauty Prince-Pri-Princess Aemond,” Viserys spoke with a stutter, uncharacteristically unsure of himself. His omega child rolled their sole eye as they continued with their cosmetics as Viserys floundered to find words. “Even with your missing eye.” He did not mean it to be an insult but it was clear that Princess Aemond thought such as his scent flared once before being forcibly stifled and brought to heel.
“Be at peace, your grace. After today, I will never haunt you again, neither shall the weight of my eye,” Aemond said wryly, resting the brush he had used upon his lips gently onto the little pot and pressing his lips together to make a popping sound.
“Meraxes did not survive a bolt to the eye but I survived a blade to my own. Dorne cannot make me bleed more so than those of House Targrayen did.” Viserys’ wavering smile turned to vinegar as his brows furrowed and his cheeks dropped. He did not know what to say and so Viserys merely hummed, his eyes darting around the unfamiliar rooms kept by Princess Aemond. The walls were now stripped bare of all decoration and personal effects and distantly Viserys wondered if they were already packed upon the ship that would soon sail to Dorne, or if Aemond had never been one for decoration.
Aemond did not wait for him to search further, parting his mouth once more and offering leniency.
“What has troubled you so much that you would seek my presence on my wedding day, King Viserys?” Aemond asked coldly, eyeing Viserys with a suspicion that took the King aback. He nodded slowly and hobbled closer to Aemond so that they could look at one another through the mirror.
“Rhaenyra, your sister, once proposed that you join Prince Lucerys in marriage and gain an egg from Syrax’s clutch. Now you are to marry into House Martell and will forfeit the right to ride a dragon for yourself and your descendants. I wished to ask you once more if you still held true to that position?” His mind ran across Rhaenyra and the keen insights she questioned him within missives as they discussed the marriage of Aemond into Dorne. If his words were a lamentation or a peace offering to the young omega, it was indistinguishable as to which and Princess Aemond seemed to understand such as he responded in an amused tone of voice.
“I did not realise that the Crown Princess controlled the distribution of her dragon’s eggs,” Aemond replied lightly, patting the fat from his lips with a swath of fresh cotton, scented with jasmine.
Viserys’ brows furrowed and his lips fell into a grimace, “Of course not. The distribution of dragon eggs remains at the purview of myself, Lord of House Targaryen and head of this household. Your sister is merely the steward of the eggs that are born on Dragonstone.”
The sound of the brush being dipped into the finely crushed powder was the only sound for a long moment.
“And so, you were always in a position to have given me an egg if you so pleased, your grace?”
The damming question was asked with well-practised ease, Aemond staring at Viserys through his vanity mirror, his sole lilac eye bleeding into Viserys’ violet own. The King froze in place, gripping the back of Aemond’s chair, unable to say a word. Minutes passed and when the King found the saliva to wet his mouth, Aemond spoke again.
“No matter. Dorne is no place for a dragon and I have no desire for a dragon given to me from your hands or that of House Targaryen. Your colouring is curse enough.”
Viserys gripped the chair so tight his knuckles grew white. “You are my child, the blood of the dragon. You cannot discard the lineage that has made you, nor the family which has raised you.”
Aemond hummed but did not say a word, continuing to peruse his face in interest. There was a period of discomforting silence before Viserys felt obliged to speak to why he met with Aemond on this morning.
“I know it is customary in the traditions of the Andals that a bride bears a representation of each aspect of the Seven on their wedding day. Today, I offer you any jewellery that you desire from the vaults for your use as a gift from the Father.” It was the appearance of Rhaenyra which had reminded him of the tradition. When he had spied the ring he had commissioned for her marriage to Ser Laenor Velaryon adorning the same finger as the band Daemon had gifted her for the birth of his first son, he had later questioned Alicent as to what she had chosen for Aemond to wear. Alicent looked upon him blankly and said that he had never given her leave to wear the jewellery of the vault, nor the children, to which Viserys was taken aback for surely he had.
“A gift for the father has already been incorporated King Viserys. My mother has ensured that I was given all that I deserve, as she has always done.” Aemond did not look upon Viserys as he carefully painted his lips red, a deep crimson close to the colour of their sigil. Distantly, Viserys noted that neither Aemond nor any of his other children wore Targaryen red, this being the first time in memory he could recall seeing the colour upon Aemond’s person. It was a queer choice for Aemond, his mother the Queen being known for her faction the ‘Greens’ against his own Rhaenyra’s ‘Blacks’ and red being the colour with which he wore often and proudly, yet all his children bar Rhaenyra scorned it.
Gently, Aemond placed the brush down and wiped at the corner of his lips before turning his body so that he could look Viserys in the eye. “Return to your daughter King Viserys, she had more need of you than I.” With that, Aemond pushed his chair from the vanity and stood.
“Princess Aemond,” Viserys called as Aemond drew to his full height, but a type of pain blossomed in Viserys’ chest at those words and he stumbled back clutching at the bedframe when he buckled. When his hand could not find purchase on the carafe and cups on the small table within his reach, they tumbled to the ground in a loud crash and the doors to Aemond’s room burst open with Ser Westerling and Gwayne rushing through the narrow door.
“The King has grown weak,” Aemond said calmly to Ser Westerling. The knight nodded and although Viserys slapped away his hands, he knew from the calculating look in his eyes that the knight would surely tell the Queen and Maester Orwyle that he was not in the best of health.
“I am fine,” Viserys bit out, but as he spoke those words his legs buckled again, his feet shaking underneath him. He watched as Aemond sighed and shook his head, taking Ser Westerling aside he spoke lowly to the knight as Viserys attempted to straighten his back again.
“Ser Westerling please bring him to the Maester’s and Ser Gwayne, please send for Prince Aegon and the Queen.”
Seated at the Queen’s side, Viserys watched as Aemond made his descent down the aisle to the High Septon and his alpha-to-be. The cloak that clothed Aemond’s shoulders was one of great beauty and far from the maiden’s cloak of House Targaryen that Viserys had placed on top of Alicent’s shoulders all those years ago. Instead, the cloak was built on top of the one Alicent had born up the aisle, with stiff shoulders padded with gold and a deep viridian breast and torso, but from the elbows to the floor the garment was adorned with thousands of dragon scales. Sunfyre’s gold, Dreamfyre’s silvery blue and Tessarion’s cobalt made up the bulk of the cloak and fell gracefully to the floor, glistening in the sunlight, a tinkling sound ringing through the sept as the cloak dragged across the stone ground. Trimming the edge of the cloak was blinding white fur the exact colour as the cloaks of the Kingsguard. As Prince Aegon escorted Princess Aemond to the High Septon and Prince Qoren, Viserys spied Aemond leaning his face into the fur and inhaling the scent, a blinding smile crossing the lips.
Viserys sighed as he peeled open his eyes to the sight of dreary damp castle walls. With an outstretched hand, he fingered his way through the sheets, but could not find that which he looked for and so he grumbled to himself. As was usual, his body ached and a chill ran through his room as he tried to accustom himself to the emptiness of the day.
Viserys did not know why his mind had run over Princess Aemond, bringing his mind back to the memory of the morn of the young omega’s wedding. His sole omega child had always been a prickly, distant thing, certain to spew flames that set anger slight, rather than speak demurely with an even temper. Viserys hardly knew his favoured colour, moreso what attitude he had adopted in the past years, or what he did to fill his time, but a part of him held some curiosity. A curiosity tinged by the missive that had been sent a sennight prior.
Viserys could remember the last time his eyes rested upon Aemond proper.
The sole Targrayen omega painted a lovely picture. With long hair curled down his back, the front of which covered his missing eye, a lilac dress made of velvet and myrish silk and face painted with a delicate hand, the manner with which drew the attention of all the alpha's in the surroundings - Princess Aemond Targaryen embodied all that had been written and spoken of omegas of House Targaryen. He was a beauty beyond compare, that of which words failed to describe. Viserys had been surprised when his eyes kept falling on his only omega child and he had whispered a caution to Alicent, to relay to Aemond that such additions to his appearance were unbecoming of a Targaryen, once Rhaneyra had drawn his attention to it, that it could be unseemly. The Queen had merely pursed her lips and nodded her head though there was no assent in her eyes.
Aemond’s laugh tinkled in the air as he shook his head with joy, his hair bouncing along with happiness. Gently, he laid a companionable hand on Prince Qoren’s knee as the leader of Dorne shared in his mirth. Viserys could not recall the child being so free and animated in their movements and such delight was handsome upon his visage. That was a sentiment shared with his brother and grandson as both were hard-pressed to tear their eyes away from the sight.
Viserys could not remember much after that faithful meal. He knew the birds had been chirping, the sky cloudless and blue for the first time in many moons and Aemond had shone like the sun. When the Prince of Dorne politely departed, his Queen followed suit quickly after, tending to their daughter who was heavy with a child.
Aemond had proceeded to stand to his full height and with a tender touch, the omega grasped the youngest babe of his sister, Jahaerys or Janeaera Viserys could not remember clearly, and turned to leave when Viserys spied Prince Lucerys rising from his seat and calling after Aemond with a gentle, “Princess Aemond”.
Prince Lucerys, his daughter’s favoured child and the source of much of his political strife was a rather unremarkable boy Viserys could admit now and then.
A t that time he had begun to grow tall and broad, as Viserys had expected due to his father, but he did not gain the Targaryen jaw or nose. Neither did his eyes shine with purple light and his skin darken with Velaryon blue. Instead, he bore the same brown eyes and hair that had caused discord within House Velaryon, and though he wore Velaryon indigo it was far from complementary to his colouring, an affront that Viserys was happy to keep an eye on as the second son of his daughter was ripe for retaliation. Rhaenyra had made mention of further discontent in House Velaryon after the maiming of the five relatives of Lord Corlys, so much so that Viserys had anticipated retaliation and made many generous offers to abate the ire of Lord Velaryon.
In the days coming to Aemond's wedding, Prince Lucerys Velaryon had lost much weight to the point of notice and Viserys had counselled his daughter through the grief of such. Rhaenyra had attributed it to stress but Viserys’ keen eyes knew of the ailment that was heartbreak and its effects on the body. Prince Lucerys had stood, the sun hitting his brown hair as he asked for his uncle’s attention. Aemond merely tucked the head of the babe, Jaehaerys or Jaenaera again Viserys could not quite remember, into the crook of his neck as he looked down his nose at Lucerys, pursed lips answering with a curt, “Yes?”
Viserys could not quite remember what Prince Lucerys had brought before his uncle in question but he could clearly remember Aemond's response.
Princess Aemond had bore his teeth in a manner reminiscent of a feral animal and shook the curls from in front of his eyes. Cooing down at the babe resting peacefully in his arms he spoke, “There is nothing between us Prince Lucerys, other than the weight of an eye.”
He had felt a seething rage in his veins at Aemond’s words. Lucerys’ expression had fallen and his beloved Rhaenyra had whispered furiously of the insult. There was upset within him, even now that Viserys did not know where to place, but he remembered at the time he wished to roar long and loud in the face of his son. His displeasure had scented the air and Aemond with shifting eyes, merely bowed and grumbled his leave before departing with the child, but the sourness of his scent had remained.
There were no more meals shared in the gardens after that day.
Now it seemed so pitiful, so childish.
Love was painful, time had taught Viserys to accept such, unrequited love even moreso. But, aged as he was now, Viserys could not find it within him to empathise so heavily with Prince Lucerys again. It was upsetting to see the one whose favour you wished for married to someone else, but he did not know if he could agree that it was pain enough to justify confrontation after a wedding – a better man, a better alpha, would have conceded defeat.
It was Daemon who had spoken to him, at the behest of Rhaenyra likely but Viserys was unsure. Still, he had listened intently, granting his brother his ear and the benefit of the doubt.
Daemon had wasted no time, spinning a yarn of quality. It was interwoven with mentions of his childhood desires for a Valyrian bride, of the lust Targrayen flesh had for one another, of the might of his own Visenya being lost to Dorne. Daemon had spoken at length about the mistake of joining Aemond to Dorne, what it would mean for Rhaenyra and the beloved heartache of her favoured son.
From what Viserys could glean from the tale Daemon wove, was that whilst sojourning through the Stormlands Prince Lucerys, fresh into his adulthood had spied Princess Aemond, the King's sole omega child, during his time fostering with House Baratheon and had immediately fallen deeply and irrevocably in love. So much so that he immediately flew Arrax back to Dragonstone and petitioned his mother to set aside the engagement with Lady Rhaena.
"Rhaenyra asked that we meet and converse about the matter at hand. She fears the memory of our marriage casts a long shadow in your mind." Daemon offered and Viserys could only raise a brow and sigh in response.
"But I know that you would not be aghast to conversations about the security of our house, not when it concerns our continuation. I understand the boy's heart, I too yearned for my own Valyrian bride as you know. It is a yearning that doesn't subside Lēkia no matter how much you try to deny it and if you decide to follow the queen's desires you will damn Lucerys to a loveless existence. Would you wish that upon another, after you yourself lost Aemma?"
Viserys had felt a twinge of shame because though he thought often of his guilt, the decision that led him to slice open Aemma, his hesitancy with his lineage and the foreboding sense of unbalance that pervaded each and every minute he sat upon the Iron throne, his mind had not thought deeply of Aemma for many years. Daemon's mentioning of her name brought nothing but irritation and Viserys found himself rubbing at his temple.
"Your words are coated in sweetness that disguises the spite. You have shown no love for the children of the Queen prior, so why now Daemon?"
"He is a Targaryen, Hightower stain aside."
"And what of Aemond's heart? You speak of Prince Lucerys but do you know of Aemond's desires?"
"He would rather a Targaryen alpha than some Dornish scum, I know the secrets of the blood within Valyria's children. Is he not the one you likened to Visenya? Would she stand to marry an alpha beneath her blood?"
Viserys could not help but think of Lord Corlys, and the manner in which Daemon had avoided making mention of the relations between House Velaryon and House Targaryen. The upset was easy to avoid when it was not addressed but Viserys doubted he could continue to deal a heavy hand with House Velaryon without retaliation, they too were of Valyrian blood.
He sighed, waving his hand in assent and hoped the conversation would be laid to rest.
Ser Otto Hightower did not even attempt to disguise his amusement at Rhaenyra’s plight, despite the argument presented before the small council. He merely sipped slowly at the water in his goblet and watched her with a piercing gaze. “Princess Rhaenyra, I applaud your conduct and the sentiment of your argument but marriage between Princess Aemond and Prince Lucerys simply cannot occur, relations with Dorne are far more important than the desires of Prince Lucerys. Desires that Princess Aemond does not reciprocate. The king gave his assent that it was the purview of the small council and House Hightower to arrange suitable marriages for his children with the Queen. The Queen has nominated me to broker such negotiations with Dorne due to pre-existing relations between House Hightower and Dorne and the King expressed no concern before such decisions. The decision to rescind a betrothal at this stage would be political suicide.”
Violet eyes narrowed in annoyance but the Crown Princess merely pursed her lips and looked to her father in an expression Viserys had come to associate with support. Viserys, unused to his daughter’s upset, cleared his throat and drew attention to himself, “Surely Princess Aemond and Prince Lucerys can be brought before the council and their opinions of matrimony sought?” His eyes darted to Queen Alicent but the poised woman betrayed no emotion on her face, merely tilting her head to the side and watching Viserys in return. Quickly, the King realised that his wife would offer no opinion or support, instead, she remained passive in her regard and stoic in her expression.
Aemond did not dally with his summons, entering the room which held the small council and Princess Rhaenyra’s party promptly. The newly blossomed Princess did not look to his sister or her son, instead giving courtesy as was proper and focusing his attention solely on the King and Queen.
“I solicit your thoughts Prince Aemond. Princess Rhaenyra has brought forth a worthy petition on behalf of her son, heir to Driftmark Prince Lucerys Velaryon. He wishes to take you as a bride and bring you into House Velaryon as its Lady, a position presently held by Princess Rhaenys, when Lord Corlys inevitably transitions. I wished to hear from your tongue what your thoughts may be concerning such a proposal.”
“I would rather be sent to the Silent Sisters,” Aemond responded quickly and with ease, he did not dally in response and Viserys merely closed his eyes for a long moment. Ser Tyland Lannister snorted at the quip but it did nothing to break the tension that descended upon the assembled. Princess Rhaenyra gasped in affront, her eyes wide but she was not quick enough with her rebuttal to prevent Prince Lucerys’ head from lowering in dismay.
Aemond’s eye bore a hole in the King’s head as he spoke. “Have I not suffered enough? You would seek to bind me in holy matrimony to the very alpha that disfigured me and stole my eye?”
His words of admonishment tore at the King who visibly wilted but the Queen remained stoic.
" You, who has been charged by the Seven to be my father, my alpha, to care and protect me, would see me bound to the very man who disfigured me?”
Prince Lucerys’ head sunk further and King Viserys did not disguise his discomfort, offering a weak, “Aemond,” in response, but the omega was not deterred.
“Do you despise cripples so that you treat me so harshly?” that drove the knife in Viserys’ gut deeper.
Viserys opened his mouth and closed it again, but Aemond calmly stared down the King, unmoving.
“ No Aemond, it was not …” Viserys trailed off, unable to look the young omega in the eye, instead glancing to a pale Rhaenyra who had narrowed her eyes at her brother.
“I have no dragon and you would leave me unprotected, bound to the very man who once laid a hand against me?”
At this, Viserys lost the will for further argument and simply shook his head, Princess Rhaenyra however was not so easily cowed and stood to her feet - projecting her voice for all to hear.
“That is a vile accusation against Prince Lucerys’ character.”
A finely arched blonde brown rose as Aemond turned his attention to the Crown Princess, his expression was cold but it was clear there was no love in his eyes.
“Do you deny that it was by Prince Lucerys’ hand that I lost my eye?”
Princess Rhaenyra gritted her teeth but did not dispute the words.
“Do you deny that the King has a duty to ensure me a match, that at the very least, would not have a history of having laid a hand against me?”
Again, the Princess Royal did not say a word. The courtiers glanced amongst one another and Viserys spied the careful nodding of Lord Jasper Wilde in agreement.
Aemond nodded and offered a short snarl of a smile. “Thank you, Princess, I concur. I cannot marry Prince Lucerys, least of all because it cannot be assured that he will not cause me further harm.”
“Lucerys is not of such character,” Rhaneyra bit out between gritted teeth, “he is a good and just man and would treat you with kindness.”
“How am I to know that? The last time we were left without supervision he stole my eye, the next time he could very well steal my life.”
Viserys’ head fell further but he did not interject in the conversation at hand and to which his daughter shot him a look of betrayal after a long period of tense silence in which no one spoke. Throughout the conversation, none of the assembled interrupted, not even the subject of conversation Prince Lucerys Velaryon who merely stood with his back straight and hands folded in front of him. When it was clear there was no more to be said, the Queen gently cleared her throat.
“Princess Rhaenyra, it is clear that Princess Aemond holds no desire to wed Prince Lucerys. Furthermore, House Velaryon has benefitted from many marriages betwixt the Crown and its children, none of the least your own. It seems only just that the Crown supports the betrothal Prince Aemonod is ardently in support of which would also further ties with Dorne, as opposed to a House with which the Crown already has close ties.”
Viserys could not help but mourn the look of upset that briefly crossed Rhaenyra’s face. Still, rationally he knew he could not justify another marriage between his children and House Velaryon. The nobility would certainly riot in the face of such favouritism and partiality to one house.
“Sweet brother,” Rhaenyra started, holding her hands across her abdomen as she stood. “I caution you in your haste to marry outside the kingdom. Your heart would thaw to Lucerys in time, you could get to know one another as Lucerys teaches you how to handle your dragon.” The offering in her words was wrapped in a sweetness she had never gifted the Queen’s children.
Viserys nodded in support of Rhaenyra’s words, adding, “You would be permitted to choose an egg and hatch a dragon of your own in intervening years before Prince Lucerys is set to take over his duties upon Driftmark.”
At those words Aemond laughed cruelly, the action tugging at the scar across his face, pulling his expression into a warped ugly manner. “Is that an order your Grace?” Aemond directed his question to Viserys, though he kept his eyes trained on Rhaenyra.
Viserys paused, glancing between Rhaenyra and the council, his eyes tracing the sullen expression across Rhaenyra’s before capturing the sternness in the faces of the council, their furrowed brows and disappointment. He paused before shaking his head, offering “No, it is not an order Princess Aemond, merely a suggestion.”
He cut his eye away from the imploring looks Rhaenyra shot him and swallowed his dismay; Viserys glanced at the Queen but Alicent was glacial, no expression to be found.
“Then my decision remains. I will marry Prince Qoren and become a princess of Dorne.” There was valyrian steel in Aemond’s voice and he looked to Viserys after staring down Princess Rhaenyra.
“It is a great benefit to the Crown that Princess Aemond can marry into Dorne and the needs of the realm must come before the desires of the individual.”
Such words seemed hollow now.
Maester Orwyle did not have the soft hands and gentle touch of his Queen, so the massaging of his limbs was something he suffered through with gritted teeth. As the learned man finished his chores for the day, Viserys found himself floundering somewhat for tasks, there was no need for his attendance at court and neither was there a council meeting in his schedule and much time had passed since the times in which Alicent had managed his days. Now, he sat bare-chested waiting for his withered body to soak in the ointment slathered across his skin and searching for a task.
Never had the sound of silence been quite so unnerving and not for the first time the King of Westeros found himself reaching for the weathered paper of a neatly written letter in indigo ink that sat on top of the stack of letters kept at his bedside.
Coryanne Nymeros Martell, that which was the name Aemond had bestowed upon the newest daughter of Dorne. A daughter Aemond felt no need to bring before his father and once pack-alpha, nor send word of his pregnancy during the length of the ten months. When he consulted with the Lord Hand, Ser Lyonel had spoken on the Queen’s prior missive in which she had informed the council of sailing to Dorne to catch the ‘winter sun’ and spend time with Aemond. Seeing such admission in ink laid the foundation for weeks of vexation, but for what particular reason Viserys could not quite grasp. His irritation had furthered when Ser Tyland Lannister had made mention of Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena stopping at Lannisport to trade pleasantries with House Lannister before they too sailed to Dorne from Braavos and the comfort in which his Master of Coin recounted the visit.
Unlike for House Lannister, the news of Princess Coryanne had arrived at the Redkeep in the form of a missive from Prince Qoren, announcing, as was customary, the birth of another heir for Dorne. Till this day Viserys had received no word from Aemond, the newest Princess of Dorne, regarding the birth of his first child and the king’s newest grandchild.
After reading the crumpled missive for the umpteenth time, Viserys placed the paper alongside his lastest letters and missives and scowled deeply, the furrow of his brow thick.
Viserys felt …
Viserys felt …
Viserys did not know what he felt. It blossomed in his chest, ached and pained him something fierce but he still did not know what to name it and it brought him no comfort at all.
Early in the years, the Queen and Helaena would bring the young children to his solar at Alicent's behest and though he had not known much about the children, he enjoyed hearing their laughter and knowing his descendants would be many. Now, only silence remained, and nothing was soothing in the silence, instead, it loomed like a spectre in the night.