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

Silver and Cold

Every member of the household was required to attend the banquet held that night. Visaera, groggy from milk of the poppy to ease the pain, sat in silence as Aemond rubbed circles over the back of her hand beneath the table. His demeanor was calm and relaxed, but both of them knew that something had shifted between them.

To her left, Baela talked on and on about Cregan Stark, having met him that morning.

"He's really quite dashing, you know... And he has a sister our age."

"Does he?" Visaera replied dutifully, hardly listening to her sister, lost in her own thoughts. She finally turned to look at Baela, who actually seemed thrilled by an impending marriage with Cregan, "But you'll come visit, won't you, Baela? After all Winterfell is rather cold, is it not? What about Moondancer?" Baela thought on it for a moment before answering.

"Well, I heard that Winterfell is built over hot springs, even heating the walls of the keep itself. Perhaps it's time they had a Dragonpit." The idea made Visaera smile at her sister, and she lifted her glass to Baela.

"To you, my sweet, little sister, and a long and happy marriage." She offered.

"Thank you, Vis." Baela replied as she glanced across the throne room and Visaera's gaze followed. Cregan Stark was watching Baela Targaryen with burning grey eyes. The princess couldn't be happier for her sister. Glancing at Rhaena, sitting beside Daemon at the opposite end of the table, she wondered what would become of her sister's future.

Jace leaned in and said something in Helaena's ear and Visaera watched her aunt smile and laugh. Her brother was one of the kindest, most honorable souls she had ever met, and she realized just how happy they would be together. Driftmark was only a short flight from the capital, and she was grateful they would be nearby. At the end of the table, Aegon switched constantly between his wine and water, looking as miserable as Visaera felt. When his gaze shifted toward the opposite end of the table, Visaera sat back and averted her eyes.

The throne room was a cacophony of laughter and cheers and Visaera couldn't help but feel like she didn't belong there. Her thoughts turned to the remainder of the traitors she knew were being held in the dungeon for very public executions and her stomach churned.

"I'm going to be sick..." she whispered to Aemond before rising from the table and hurrying from the hall. Daemon shared a look with his wife and, receiving a nod from the queen, strode from the room.

"Visaera," he called. She was halfway up the stairs and paused mid-step. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," she replied, forcing a tight smile. "Women's troubles," she offered, making him grimace. It was true, her bleeding was due any day, it was far easier for her to lie and offer her father comfort than explain everything. She had caused enough trouble to last a lifetime. Visaera had made her bed and she was going to have to lie in it.

For the next five days, Visaera remained in her quarters, refusing anyone entry other than Alarya. Her handmaid cared for her as best she could, watching to make sure she didn't starve herself.

"Alarya," she began softly as they sat in front of the hearth. A fire had been burning for hours but Visaera still felt cold.

"Yes, love?" Alarya replied, brushing through her hair, careful to avoid the missing patches.

"What will happen with Ser Jaunton? You're in love with him, aren't you?" A long silence followed but she felt her maid sigh behind her.

"I am..." Alarya answered softly.

"But he's a knight of the Queensguard." Visaera replied. "You can't marry..."

"He could ask for leave, if he desired to, but I would never ask it of him." Replaying the last few months in her head, Visaera could understand what Alarya meant. Loving someone sometimes required sacrifice...