𝟏𝟐𝟐 𝐚.𝐂., 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑔'𝑠 𝐿𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝟏𝟐𝟐𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 was a rainy day, with the sky overcast and raindrops echoing on the cold stone of the Red Keep. Activity slowed considerably on days like this, with the court opting to gather for only a couple of hours in the morning, so the atmosphere became strangely quiet —even ominous to many— and silence took over from the bustle and chaos that characterized the Red Keep. The nobles who frequented the castle detested that the vagaries of nature robbed them the hours of enjoyment that would be available to them if the skies were clear and the sun shone on it. However, in the gloom of the library and in front of the warmth of the fire, two silver-haired children were celebrating that silence reigned in the world, for it was only on days like these that they did not have to be separated from each other, fulfilling their respective duties and responsibilities as princes of the Kingdom.

Visenya and Aemond enjoyed those moments immensely, in which they both read in silence an ancient tome on the history of the Targaryen Dynasty in Westeros while translating High Valyrian in their heads, the silence being interrupted only when Visenya asked her uncle what a certain word meant in the common tongue.

"Obūljagon," Visenya whispered, turning her head towards Aemond to see that her uncle was already looking at her ,".... What does Obūljagon mean?"

"To kneel," the boy replied, pointing to the word Visenya had referred to, "It says that the great houses of Westeros knelt before Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, offering their surrender and that of their bannermen to House Targaryen."

Visenya nodded slowly, lips moving as she repeated the word to herself. Aemond smiled, feeling at peace in his niece's company in the quiet of the library. The children rarely had a chance to see each other alone, both busy with responsibilities at their young ages and meeting only when they went in the company of their siblings to Dragon Well. On special occasions, such as that day, Visenya and Aemond would run to each other, escaping the septas and royal guard who came looking for them. That morning, however, the young princes did not manage to slip away for long. Especially when the doors of the library crashed open, causing the children to jump. Visenya knew, seeing the knight in front of her with his usual scowl, that her quiet time with her uncle was ending right there.

"Prince Aemond," Ser Criston called, "Your mother requests that you go to her chambers at once."

"May I go too?" asked the princess, rising with Aemond with hope of prolonging the moment.

"The queen specified that the prince should go alone."

Dry, sharp and authoritarian. That was the side that Queen Alicent's sworn knight always showed with Rhaenyra's daughter. He did not treat her with as much contempt as he did Jace or Luke, perhaps because he was not allowed to train with the princes, but Visenya had always wondered what was the reason for Ser Criston's disdain towards her and her brothers.

"But..."

"It's all right, Aemond," Visenya said with a small smile on her lips, "I will go to Avyanne. Kesan ūndegon ao tolī."

"I'll see you later," was Visenya's promise before bidding the prince farewell. Ser Criston did not give Visenya another glance as she walked in the direction of the library door and a shiver ran through the girl's body as she passed by the knight's side.

The princess closed the library door and was surprised to see the solitude of the Red Keep. The corridors were dark in the absence of sun that morning and the silence announced that the court was dispersed, probably at the behest of the terrible weather. Visenya rubbed her arms against the cold breeze that whipped her body, missing the fire she had been enjoying with Aemond in the library. Visenya walked for a few minutes around the fortress alone, turning every so often to see if anyone was following in her footsteps, constantly feeling as if someone was watching her closely. Perhaps it was because her mother had warned her on more than one occasion not to wander without escort or company under any circumstances, especially when the threat on Rhaenyra and her lineage became more apparent. Which is why, when she caught a silvery glow out of the corner of her eye, Visenya had a bad feeling.

"Ser Criston," as the young girl's first thought. She couldn't explain why, but if she had to imagine a real threat capable of hurting her within the walls of the Red Keep, the first person that popped into her mind was Kristen Cole.

"Princess?"

Suddenly, the alarm was gone. That deep voice, fit to frighten the most hardened soldiers, always conveyed peace.

"Ser Harrold," the girl said, turning quickly in the direction of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.

"What are you doing alone, young one? You are aware you must always have an escort, yes?

"I was going to see Avyanne."

Ser Harrold Westerling clicked his tongue and approached the princess, picking his white cloak before kneeling in front of the princess. 

"You seem upset. Would you mind telling me what has troubled you?" asked the Lord Commander with a sweet tone.

Visenya lowered her gaze, relaxing completely at the knight's affectionate tone. Vysenya shrugged her shoulders, but ended up sighing when she noticed Ser Harrold's insistent gaze.

"I do not like Ser Criston."

"Gods," laughed the Lord Commander, shaking his head before bursting out laughing again, "Do you want to know a secret? I don't like him either."

Visenya smiled and accepted the outstretched hand of Ser Harrold, who led the princess through the corridors of the Red Keep to the chambers of Avyanne Arryn, niece of Lady Jayne Arryn and heir to the Eyrie. Avyanne had become Visenya's lady-in-waiting nearly two years after Cerissa Tully's arrival in King's Landing, coinciding with the presentation at court of Myrcella Lannister, eldest daughter of Jason Lannister. Visenya went from having no friends to being part of a small family of four sisters, each of the girls special in their own way. Avyanne was the youngest of them and, in a way, the most serious; being a few months younger than Visenya and Myrcella, the girl always made sure that the others behaved —especially the two mentioned— and that the septa did not have to give them a new sermon on how inappropriate those behaviors were for young ladies like them. Visenya, in such moments, could only laugh.

"I'll let your mother know you're here. She told me you were in the library with Prince Aemond and asked me to check on you."

"Please don't tell her you found me alone," the princess begged, "The last thing I want is for her to be angry with me."

"I won't if you promise never to walk these halls alone again," the Lord Commander pledged, "You never know what might lurk in this place."

"I promise."

Ser Harrold seemed content with the princess's word and nodded, straightening up before knocking on the door to Avyanne's chamber. Visenya could hear from her spot the voices of Marcella and Avyanne and could not wait to join them. 

"I will return when I have finished speaking with Princess Rhaenyra," Ser Harrold said, giving the girl one last smile, "I will make sure you do not return to your chambers alone."

"Thank you, Ser Harrold."

Visenya's gentleness had always touched the Lord Commander. As the eldest of Rhaenyra's daughters, Visenya was the spitting image of her mother, but the way the girl was at ease among the members of the court made Ser Harrold see in her fragments of the personality of her grandmother, Aemma. The Lord Commander, however, saw that sweetness fading as the years passed for the princess and blamed the poisoned political environment in which she and the rest of the children of the court were forced to live in.

The doors to the chambers opened and Visenya smiled at the sight of her friends. Myrcella and Avyanne rose from the floor and ran to meet the princess, taking her hands and dragging the girl into the chambers. The two maidens accompanying the girls rose from the carpet and bowed to Visenya, waiting for the little girls to take their seats before resuming what they were doing. 

"We've taken an old dress and we are making friendship bracelets out of its skirt. Look!" Myrcella exclaimed, "We've made this one for you. And we're making one to give to Cerissa when she comes back from Riverrun."

"They're beautiful. Thank you," smiled the girl, sitting down beside her friends on the rug. Her body immediately welcomed the warmth of the fire she had lit in the room.

Visenya spent hours by the fire in the company of Myrcella and Avyanne and, with the fabric they had left, the girls made one more bracelet, "in case they made a new friend," the heiress of the Eyrie had said. Years later, Visenya would often remember that afternoon in the Red Keep. Not only because of Avyanne's indirect premonition that one more person would join her close circle, but because of the words Myrcella had spoken to her.

"One day, when we are married and very old," the young Lannister had said, "we will tell our children the story of our friendship; that we grew up together, lived together, and faced every adversity together. For that, I promise never to take this bracelet off."

Visenya and Avyanne joined her in that vow and, later, Cerissa. The four girls, years later, would welcome with open arms the latest addition to Visenya Velarion's ladies-in-waiting, Princess Nymeria Martell of Dorne, whom they presented with the remaining bracelet as a welcome gift. The circle was completed and sealed, with the promise that the family the five young women had become would never be broken. But with the illness of King Viserys and the poisoned political game that divided House Targaryen and the realm into two factions, the girls would come to understand that promises hang by a thin thread that anyone can break.

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𝟏𝟐𝟗 𝐚.𝐂., 𝑆𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟.

Two weeks in Dorne had been enough for Visenya to make sure that she would not mind at all abandoning her royal life and starting over in the south of Westeros. Life was so different in this corner of the world, so free and unprejudiced, that it took her a while to get used to the parallel reality that Dorne hid. The Dornians had also taken time to get used to the presence of the silver-haired princess. The friction between the crown and Dorne had partially ceased since Nymeria, the only legitimate daughter of Prince Qoren Martell, joined Visenya's court as lady-in-waiting —as a certainty that Dorne would never again venture to the Trident against the interests the Iron Throne. But that did not mean that the past between Houses Targaryen and Martell had suddenly vanished. The Dornish were proud and would not forget that they had once tried to be subdued by the dragonlords. The independence of their kingdom was extremely valuable to them. For that reason —and the knowledge of historical mistakes, such as the one that had cost her house the life of Rhaenys Targaryen and her dragon Meraxes— Visenya understood from the beginning that a conquest, like the one her ancestors had carried out more than a hundred years before, would not ensure the union of Dorne to the Seven Kingdoms. And that was the reason why she had set out from Dragonstone weeks ago and found herself in a private room in the Old Palace of Sunspear, waiting for her maids to come and prepare her for the day ahead.

The doors of the chambers opened after a few knocks on the door, but Visenya did not catch a glimpse of any of her maidens. Instead, a dark-as-night and a golden-as-sun heads appeared in her field of vision. Suddenly Visenya felt at home again.

 "What are you still doing in bed?" Myrcella asked, as if she had seen a crime with her own eyes, "I can't believe I have to drag you out again. And dress you! If the maids don't show up in a couple of minutes, I'll get you out of that nightgown myself."

"Myrcella!" Avyanne exclaimed, "Gods be good.... If anyone listened to you..."

"What would they do? This is Dorne, Avyanne! We're not in King's Landing. You're in the cradle of indecency and lust. And besides, it's not like I haven't seen Visenya naked before."

"I know how to dress myself, " laughed the princess, pulling back the sheets before sliding out of bed, "But thank you, Marcella. Your intentions were enormously generous."

Myrcella smiled with amusement before bowing to the princess. Avyanne, meanwhile, rummaged through one of the trunks Visenya had brought from Dragonstone and handed her a dress in pastel blue, representing her father's house. Visenya thanked her for the gesture as she listened to the young Lannister's incessant chatter

"Nymeria and Cerissa are already in the dining room. We promised Nymeria that we would accompany them shortly," said the blonde, "And don't get nervous, but I heard a little rumor this morning from the very mouth of a Cornish maiden."

"You haven't told me anything." Avyanne protested, "I knew you were hiding something! You haven't stopped smiling since you knocked on my door.

"I had to save the excitement for this moment!" answered Marcella with satisfaction, "Well, do you want to know or...?"

Visenya smiled and shook her heard, stepping out from behind the divider for Avyanne to knot the ribbons on her dress.

"Are you going to make us beg until you tell us, Cella?"

"It depends," the Lannister girl shrugged, "Would you beg me, my future queen, if you knew the rumor was about Qoren Martell?"

The princess quickly turned her head, examining Marcella's face with a raised eyebrow.

"Speak."

"I heard the prince of Dorne wants to join us this morrow for breakfast," the blonde said, swaying on her feet, "You were eager to have a conversation with him, weren't you?"

Visenya was silent for a few seconds, pondering Myrcella's words. She had not had a chance to speak with Qoren Martell since her second day in Dorne, and though the official reason they had traveled to Dorne was so Nymeria could visit her family, Visenya planned to initiate a series of conversations with the Dornish prince that might secure her mother's position as rightful heir to the Iron Throne. No man of the Secret Council had held negotiations with Dorne in years, much less after what had happened with the Triarchy on the Trident. But Visenya was not a man, much less was part of the Council —plagued by green vipers, she would say— Her persuasion was something those men, whose purpose was to serve Viserys, did not possess. And Visenya was shrewdly persuasive. 

"I didn't expect to speak to him over breakfast, precisely," Visenya murmured. I will ask him to join me for a walk in the Water Gardens. Thank you, Myrcella. Your zeal for gossip will make me name you Master of Whispers someday.

"Nothing would honor me more," said Myrcella with a laugh.

The princess and her ladies-in-waiting were ready to leave Visenya's chambers when her maids appeared. One of the maidens hurried to finish dressing the princess while the other approached Visenya with a parchment in her hand.

"A raven arrived at dawn for you, princess."

"Thank you, Ayara."

Visenya sat in front of the dressing table while the maid played with her hair, asking the young Velaryon what kind of hairstyle she Ould like to wear that day. But Visenya was too focused on the reddish seal on the parchment, so much so that she didn't even hear Ayana's voice. Avyanne opted to tell the maiden that any hairstyle would be fine, and then placed a hand on Visenya's shoulder.

"Did something happen?"

"I don't know," Visenya answered the Arryn girl, "It has the royal seal."

A tense silence fell over the room. Only a few words had been spoken, but they all came to the same assumption and shared fear.

"My grandsire is dead", was Visenya's first thought. But a million more thoughts interrupted in her head. She doubted they would send a raven from King's Landing announcing the king's death. After all, it would be foolish to risk that scroll falling into the wrong hands, especially when it was no secret that se had travelled to Dorne. And besides, she could not imagine Otto Hightower writing a mournful letter condoling the death of someone as dear to her as King Viserys.

"Leave us," Myrcella ordered and the maidens immediately left the chambers. The blonde approached the princess, "I can open it, if you wish."

Visenya quickly pulled herself together and shook her head. The princess tore the seal and unwrapped the scroll, reading its content carefully. Avyanne had adverted her gaze to the large window in the room, but Myrcella had peeked over Vysenya's head to find out what was so important.

"It is from Helaena," Visenya said at last, "She wishes me to attend the celebrations for the twins' name day."

"May I?" asked Avyanne, taking the parchment when Visenya passed it to her, "Are you sure it's from Helaena?"

"Yes. It is her handwriting."

The Arryn girl took a careful look at the words and sat down next to Visenya. They both reviewed the contents of the letter, in which Helaena Targaryen expressed her desire to see her niece again and invited her to spend a few days in King's Landing, taking the opportunity of the celebration in honor of Jaehaerys and Jaehaera to meet again after all those years. 

"Well, I think we should attend," Myrcella said casually, "It's been years since we've been to King's Lading, and we have more than a reasonable justification to return. What is holding us back."

"The fact that we had to leave for a reason, Myrcella," Visenya replied, putting aside the parchment.

"Besides," Avyanne added, "we don't know if it was Princess Helaena who really sent that raven."

"By the gods, Avyanne. You and your conspiracies!" the young Lannister exclaimed, "Helaena has extended us an invitation. We take it, we attend the celebrations, we dance and we drink. Besides, the lords of the great houses will attend. It's the perfect occasion to find a husband!"

"As if your father hadn't tried to set you up with great lords," Visenya laughed. Every time Jason Lannister had shown up with a match for his daughter, the blonde had threatened to throw herself off the top of the cliffs at Dragonstone. None of them seemed good enough for her.

"You know how I feel about that," the blonde protested, "I want something that resembles royalty, not a fat old lord of the Reach. Do not tell Nymeria, but I'd sooner marry her father than any lord in Westeros."

Avyanne grimaced in disgust and Visenya shook her head, rising from the dressing table. 

"You cherish royalty too much," Visenya told her, "But the reality is much harsher and more unpleasant than you can imagine, my dear friend. I do not wish you a single day of this life."

Myrcella rolled her eyes and placed both hands on the princess' shoulders, making her sit back in from of the dressing table. The blonde began to braid the princess' hair, finishing the job her maid had started.

"I'm just saying, "said Myrcella, "that a few days at King's Landing won't hurt anyone. And your presence there would surely reinforce Princess Rhaenyra's claim. Isn't that the whole reason we've come all the way to Dorne? Now you have the chance to do just that in the place will one day be your home again; and that of your children's. Show them you are not afraid to return."

Visenya sought her friends' gaze through the mirror and sighed. Myrcella was right. Declining the invitation could arouse negative comments about her absence in the capital. And besides, she had been looking for a way to annoy the greens. What better occasion than the one that had presented itself?

Avyanne seemed to read her mind. Perhaps because they were distant kin, or because, being older than her and having grown up together, she knew Visenya in a way just a few people did. The young Arryn took the parchment and put it away to burn later and looked back at Visenya.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked the princess.

Visenya nodded and smiled at her, taking a breath of air before raising vigorously. 

"To King's Landing, then."

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