"Princess Visenya is perfectly fine, my Lady." Lucio told the anxious Dornish woman, tone carrying a tenor of patience and good humor and her mother scowled faintly at the pacification.

"For now." She grumbled, hold shifting her closer to her bosom and Lucio hummed.

"It could be good for her, my Lady." He said after a moment and her mother paused, her fingers feeling hot on the curve of Visenya's cheek and she watched those dark eyes blink once before rising to focus on the folk doctor seated just opposite of her.

Taking the look as a sign to continue, the man turned more fully to face the pair and let his heavy golden gaze drop to hers.

Visenya stared.

"The exposure, my Lady." He clarified. "The careful introduction to outside contaminants could perhaps rend her a more - formidable constitution."

His hawk eyes swung towards her mother's and held, something deep and serious in them and she shuddered.

"It is not unlike how your brother, his Lordship, has exposed himself to various venoms and poisons in order to reduce their potency and often deadly effects." He said, voice never losing or gaining volume and all the while her mother's silence rang clear like a damnation and Visenya could only watch. "We do not have to bring her out if you would permit to bring people in but there has to be progress made my Lady, else the king would surely find little use for our - continued efforts."

And just like that, Visenya understood.

And immediately wished she hadn't.

Jesus fucking christ, something in her whispered, its words tenuous and withered, my grandfather wants me dead.

But then again, that wasn't anything new, now was it?

There hadn't been a conclusion to the talk between her mother and the maester - or at least if there had been one she hadn't bore witness to it and the very notion ate at her.

It picked at her mind and devoured every thought it set its envious eyes on until the only thing left was her death and how it would happen again.

Who would be the winner? It jeered, with a sneer. Who would get to lend a hand in the murder of men, women and children? Who would get to lay claim to her death this time around?

How would they do it? In front of her mother? Her sister? Her brother?

Or would she be saved for last? Would she be the one forced to watch? Would she be the one forced to know just how they would rip her apart? How they would bash her head in? How they would butcher Rhaenys? How they would mutilate Aegon?

How they would rape and carve open her mother?

Dear god, she thought, tears burning hot paths down her cheeks as arms carefully huddled her close and she despaired. please not again.

Not again.

Rhaenys didn't come back in the next few passing days and she tried not being angry because no one was really to blame.

But fuck if her goddamn emotions would catch the clue.

She hated it.

There was another person in the room and with their presence they carried in the scent of burning cinders and lavender.

Lifting her heavy lids fully at the realization, she let them snap upwards in an attempt to catch sight of whoever this mysterious guest was when they - she - spoke.

"She has the Targaryen eyes." The low almost surprised sounding voice said, warm like honey and accented in a way that was unfamiliar to her ears and she nearly startled at the laugh that cut happily through the air.

It was her mother's.

"That good mother, was almost word for word my reaction."

Gaze drawn off the left at the sight of black hair dancing in the corners of her vision, Visenya met the warm beam of her mother's smile and gurgled happily when those familiar arms held her close.

"You can hold her if you would like." Elia smiled, holding her arms out slightly in offering. "Maester Lucio said that exposure may help her strengthen."

A pause - a hesitation - and then Visenya was being shifted into lace covered arms and a beautiful face as pale as the moon itself was set before her very eyes.

Oh, She thought distantly as she peered up into matching lilac eyes. This must be the famed Lady Rhaella.

And she was every bit of the beauty the story reported her to be.

Where her mother was shades of the sun and earth, this woman - her grandmother - was silvers and opals, with her hair like a freshly hatched pearl, gleaming in spirals down her back and around her shoulders. Her brow was arched and noble, and her face was soft and enchanting - carrying a silent but profound misery behind its aged beauty.

It almost hurt to look at her - to take in all that deeply inlaid misery that hung from every sculpted curve of her visage - but Visenya endured.

As she had always, always done.

Okay I really suck! But I'm finally back and better than ever. I couldn't get a feel for how I wanted to continue this until I listened to the song that mainly inspired this story and Visenya's character but I sat down and kept going.

It's short but I tried my best!

Please review and thank you so much for continuing to read!