Daenys Velaryon is the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, but she shares the same true lineage as her brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. As the oldest child of the heir to the throne, she has duties to fulfill, duties that she is ex...
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Year: 120 AC
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Dear Aemond,
I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize with all my heart for not writing to you sooner, and I promise, it's not like last time. I've missed you terribly. How are you feeling now? Are you getting any better?
Please tell me that you are, even if it's just a little bit. It breaks my heart to think of your suffering, and I wish I could be there with you, although maybe you might not want my company. I've prayed to all the gods for your recovery, the old and the new. My septa tells me it is blasphemy to pray to both but I imagine at least one of them must listen if I ask hard enough.
I understand if you do not wish to speak to me, given all that has happened, but you are still my dearest friend, and I hope you can find it in your heart to write back.
Oh, I have something else to share with you! My septa has been teaching me how to embroider. She says it is the mark of a true lady, although my poor sore fingers disagree. The number of times I've pricked myself is ridiculous, but I've managed to make something for you. It's supposed to be a dragon, in honour of your new dragon. My brothers disagree, saying it looks more like a deformed cat, but I hope you will like it. I'll send it to you with this letter, and you can be the judge.
You have Vhagar now. Have you ridden her yet? Be safe when you do. I'm so excited for you and would love to hear about her!
With all my love.
- Daenys
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Aemond sat in his dimly lit chamber when a footman delivered that first letter from Driftmark to him, the heavy curtains drawn shut to block out the sun's rays. His thoughts were often consumed by bitterness and anger these days, and he brooded over his injury and the unfairness of it all. The fighting skills he had acquired so far had been rendered obsolete as he relearned to navigate the world with his missing eye and lack of proper depth perception.
As he opened the delicate envelope, the sight of Daenys's familiar handwriting softened his expression momentarily. Her script was slanted and the letters slightly uneven, with blotches of ink that stained the parchment in places she had pressed too hard. But as he read her words, his rage grew like a storm within him. How dare she write to him as if she cared about his well-being? How could she act as if she were innocent in all of this?
