"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."
YOU ARE READING
The Black Death
Fanfiction"You look just like your mother." "I guess I do carry her tenderness well." "You both have the same eyes." "We are both exhausted." "And the hands." "We share the same wilting fingers." "But that rage... Your mother doesn't wear that anger." "You'r...
