As ward of the Queen, Camilla Tully was raised alongside the Princess, Rhaenyra, and the Hand of the King's daughter, Alicent. The three were rarely seen apart, where one was the other two would not be found far. That is until Queen Aemma died and t...
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Two moons had passed overhead since Queen Aemma's death and Prince Daemon's exile, and while House Targaryen mourned their losses, life continued for the rest of the world. The Lords of the realm watched from their seats anxiously awaiting for the King to take a second wife, and produce a male heir. Some Lords attempted to place their own daughters and female relatives before the King, hoping one might catch his eye.
Though the King continued to call on Camilla. Spending time in the young woman's presence filled a void left in Viserys by his beloved Aemma's death. In her company he could almost imagine Aemma in her youth, pretending his wife was still with him.
Sometimes the time passed with flowing conversation, and others they merely remained quiet each focusing on their own activity. Viserys would pour over the histories, drawing up plans for another model to show the stonemasters, while Camilla sat on a nearby chair, either curled up with a novel or embroidering.
Today Viserys was attempting to sketch out the plans for a topless tower said to have decorated the horizon of Old Valyria, yet he seemed unable to draw it correctly. Viserys leaned back in his seat in frustration, a groan on his lips. Deciding he needed a moment of reprieve, Viserys looked to his companion.
Camilla's attention was completely immersed by the hoop and cloth in her hands. Shades of red and black decorated the piece of fabric, painting an image.
Viserys opened his mouth to speak, intending to ask questions about her craft. A slight movement over her shoulder caught his attention. Viserys' blood ran cold at the sight in front of him.
There was Aemma, his love. She stood in the sheer shift he had seen her in last, her once swollen stomach was now deflated with no babe to protect. Red stained her lower half as blood continued to pour down her legs, splattering against the floor. Her mouth stretched open in a silent scream, and though no sound poured from her lips, Viserys swore he could still hear her cries of pain.
The King tore his eyes away from his wife's ghost, turning back to the sheet of parchment he had abandoned. He tried to return his attention to his prior task, hoping it might offer him some comfort. He lifted a hand wiping at the sweat beginning to bead along his hairline.
"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Camilla's calm voice called, causing Viserys to almost jump out of his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, Viserys glanced at Camilla, fearful his dead wife would still be looming over the young woman. When the space behind Camilla remained empty, Viserys turned, his shoulder's relaxing.
"I'm fine, just a little tired." Viserys answered, rubbing his eyes so hard black dots filled his vision.
"Shall I leave you, Your Grace? Perhaps I might call on Rhaenyra and see how she is faring."
"That would be kind of you. Thank you, Camilla." The King couldn't bring himself to look in her direction, fearful he would see the bloodied ghost of his wife. He listened as Camilla gathered her things and left his chambers, leaving him alone with his guilt.
