Dreams, Dragons, and Deceit || Aemond & Aegon Targaryen

Unexpected Company

"You came to see me, niece?" Helaena offered, stepping into Visaera's quarters. Dressed in pale green, she looked absolutely lovely and Visaera found herself smiling.

"I did." Visaera replied. "You look much better than the last time I saw you awake." Helaena was walking normally and, if she hadn't known about the attack, Visaera would have never guessed she had been stabbed at all.

"I wish I could say the same..." Helaena answered wryly before a smile spread across her face. Careful to avoid her burns, she pulled Visaera into her arms and squeezed her tightly. The embrace of her aunt was familiar and comforting and she found herself laying her head on Helaena's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry..." Visaera whispered, swallowing back tears.

"None of this is your fault, Visaera." Helaena replied softly, "At least you've acted on your visions; tried to make sense of them and fix things. I've merely let the chips fall where they may." Visaera gaped at her, wondering what exactly she meant. For longer than she could remember, Helaena had dreams of her own but, clearly, she saw more than the princess ever realized. The look on her aunt's face told Visaera that she wasn't the only one feeling guilt about the events of the war.

"Will you walk with me, Hel?" Visaera asked, "I'd like to visit the gardens. I haven't been outside in a long time." Helaena agreed and the pair walked through the keep with three knights following closely behind. Visaera thought it was a tad excessive, but she wasn't in any position to complain about being watched. "I haven't seen your mother since my arrival," Visaera offered carefully, once they stepped out of the castle walls.

The sun was bright and there wasn't a single cloud in the sky. It was almost cruel that the weather could be so beautiful while she was trapped in the Red Keep. They walked in silence for some time, as Helaena stared up at the sky.

"I see her every morning. When she leaves her rooms, she is under heavy guard, as you have been." Helaena finally replied as they strolled across the grass, arm in arm. "My brothers have forbidden her from moving freely about the keep. I think they were worried for your safety." Visaera knew exactly how Aegon felt about her and she fought the urge to snort at her aunt's words.

The coastal wind whipped around them and Visaera inhaled a deep breath, merely happy to be out of her quarters. The gardens weren't entirely free of the smell of King's Landing, but the salt air reminded her vaguely of home and Visaera found herself smiling widely for the first time in days.

The only thing that would make the moment better would be climbing up into her saddle and flying out over the bay on Carrion. At the thought of her dragon, who she hadn't seen in nearly two moons, Visaera felt a pang of sadness, staining her mood once more.

"Do you miss flying Dreamfyre?" she asked, turning to Helaena.

"All the time," her aunt answered seriously, "But I'm not fully healed. Once I am, the Dragonpit is my first destination."

"I'm really sorry, Helaena. You didn't deserve what Daemon did—"

"I told you, it's not your fault, Visaera."

"Mm," she replied, staring at the horizon, wondering what Daemon was doing at that moment. If he was worried for her or already planning some kind of retribution for her captivity...

"Vis, Hel..." The sound of Aemond's voice made her stiffen and they both stopped walking. Visaera hadn't spoken to him in two days, not since their bizarre exchange in bed. Each time she thought of it, her stomach twisted and she got a feeling something was terribly wrong. Helaena turned first, offering him with a bright smile.

"Brothers," she greeted, releasing Visaera's hand. The princess didn't bother to turn around; she couldn't bear to see the hatred on Aegon's face, or the reminder of Aemond's confusing words. Instead, she continued slowly down the path of stones ahead of her, counting her steps to keep her mind busy.

"Visaera?" She was on the sixty-second stone when Aemond called her name. Stilling, she finally turned to face him, not quite meeting his eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Of course," she replied half-heartedly, realizing how pathetic her voice sounded. A small dip of her head and she turned away, resuming count of the stones beneath her feet; anything to keep her from having to face either prince.

To her relief, Aemond did not follow, and she found herself alone in the garden, surrounded by the scent of roses. It seemed like years since she had last been there, yet she found her way to that corner behind the hedges as if no time had passed. Tucked behind the row of bushes, Visaera sank to her knees on the stone path and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

Hidden away in the corner of the gardens, she could almost imagine a war wasn't happening, but it was...

"Princess, you can't be alone out here. Come..." Aegon's formal tone made her insides twist and she stared up at him with her mouth half open. "Now," he added, narrowing his eyes. Why wouldn't he just send Ser Arryk to fetch her? Why did he feel the need to remind her how much he had grown to hate her?

Silently, she rose from the ground and, when he offered his arm, she took it. To anyone else, it would have seemed they were merely strolling the garden, but Aegon's posture was stiff and he refused to look at her as he escorted her back into the keep in agonizing silence.

In front of the great staircase, he gave her a cold but polite nod and left her standing there, alone. Visaera swallowed hard and reminded herself that she had put herself in this predicament and deserved far worse.

She didn't regret her decision to burn the Hightower. Her mother needed to send that message to the Greens. But Daeron hadn't deserved to be killed for defending his home and his death haunted her. She woke in a sweat at night, the sounds of Tessarion's cries echoing in her head.

It was a wonder the Dowager Queen hadn't found a way to murder her yet. Aemond's bizarre offer surfaced in her thoughts and she doubted a child would stop Alicent from murdering her if she had the opportunity.

Aemond had accompanied Helaena back into the keep and they had disappeared, leaving Visaera with nothing to do. Instead of returning to her rooms, she made her way to the library. It had been years since she had explored the stacks of tomes and it seemed like a good way to fill her time.

The shelves of books were not enough to hold her interest for long. She wandered blindly through the rows, thinking about how she used to read to her grandfather. Remembering the last time she spoke to Viserys filled her with grief and she found herself on the floor between the shelves, her head between her knees as she wiped tears from her eyes.

He would have hated this, seeing his entire family at odds. Viserys had been too good for all of them; too good for the world. Perhaps that was the reason the gods had called him home...

On shaking legs and followed by Ser Arryk, Visaera made her way back to her quarters feeling completely overwhelmed. For the first time, she envied her mother; the way Rhaenyra seemed to be able to compartmentalize her feelings when she needed to. Visaera wanted to be strong; the more she tried, the weaker she felt.

In her quarters, she found a note from Aemond...

Small council meeting. I will come see you afterward.

Tossing the parchment onto the floor, Visaera collapsed on the bed and reached for the milk of the poppy. The white liquid was highly addictive and she knew that she didn't need another dose yet, but she was desperate to take the edge of pain from her body and her mind. Mere moments later, she felt listless, relieved of her worries. Starring up at the canopy, she wished she would feel this way all the time; it seemed far easier than being forced to feel everything.

"You've made quite the mess, haven't you, Visaera?" Startled, Visaera bolted upright and her mouth fell open at the sight of her uncle leaning against the stone wall next to her door, arms folded over his chest and a sneer on his face.

"Daeron..." she breathed in disbelief. "You're alive..."