Visaera Targaryen sighed for the second time in less than a minute and released the messy braid that she had been making in her hair. Combing her fingers through it to separate the curls, she tried not to wince when they met a tangle and snagged, painfully tugging on her scalp.
She had been listening to Septa Brinna drone on about the histories for the better part of an hour and was long past paying any attention. At eleven years of age, she had nothing more important happening than her lessons, but she couldn't focus. She could never focus for very long...
While Helaena listened intently, Visaera daydreamed and wondered what her brothers were doing; why their duties were far less academically-inclined than hers. It had been that way for as long as she remembered and, the older she got, the more she hated being a girl in a man's world.
Outside, the sun was shining down on the courtyard; the hedges bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon. The slight breeze was just enough to push the fresh air in through the windows, along with the sweet scents of the flowers only one floor below. A little brown bird landed on the ledge and Visaera stared at it, longing to be the bird; to be free to flit about the gardens and bask in the sunshine. So lost in her thoughts was she, that she didn't notice her Septa rising and crossing the room until she slammed the book closed only inches from Visaera's startled face. The princess had the decency to look embarrassed that she was caught daydreaming, once again.
"You're awfully quick to distraction today, princess," Septa Brinna said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Yes, Septa," Visaera murmured apologetically; shooting one more look of longing at the little bird before it took flight once more, enjoying the freedom Visaera longed to have herself. Septa Brinna rolled her eyes, sighed, and then shook her head.
"It's well after midday; you may go, child." Visaera instantly brightened at the prospect of spending time outdoors before supper.
"Thank you, Septa!" Only a second later, she was out the door, sprinting through the corridors and out into the yard. The sunlight made her squint as she hurried out into the gardens, tossing herself into the grass and rolling over. She could feel the tiny blades piercing through the silk of her gown and knew her skin would surely itch later; she didn't care. Her eyes fell closed as she bathed in the sunshine, basking in the warmth of the rays.
"Niece," Aegon greeted, plopping himself down in the grass beside her. A smile stretched across her face at the sound of his voice, but her eyes remained closed.
"Uncle," she greeted happily. The prince didn't say anything else, he merely watched Visaera in silence. Even though she was only eleven years of age, thirteen-year-old Aegon thought Visaera was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She had long, soft curls of starlight and fiery violet eyes; a perfect creation. Surely, he thought, she was made by the gods to torment him. "You're quiet today," she offered, her eyes still closed against the afternoon sun. When her uncle only hummed in response, she finally blinked against the light and looked at him.
He stared adoringly at her and pulled a tendril of hair between his fingers, enjoying the way it coiled up when he released it. Aegon pulled her up from the grass, her elbows nestled in his lap, and began to intricately plait her hair. It was something he did for only her, despite the many times she had seen Helaena ask, and Visaera briefly wondered where he had learned to braid.
Silence lingered between them but it wasn't uncomfortable. The princess merely closed her eyes once more, absorbing the sounds and smells around her. Autumn was in the air but the warm weather conveyed otherwise; the birds sang and the flowers continued to bloom as though the summer was never going to end. In fact, Visaera hoped it never would...
"Your hair is getting longer every day," Aegon finally murmured, pushing her head forward to he could reach the bottom of her locks. Visaera smiled.
"I'm hoping it will reach the bottom of my back soon," she told him. When the braids were finally connected into one single, elaborate rope, Aegon reached into his pocket and tied a piece of cordage around the end. Tugging the thick ladder of hair forward, she inspected the intricate braid, before settling back in his lap. "When will you take me on Sunfyre again?" she finally asked, taking his hand and knitting her fingers through his.
"Missed him, have you?" he asked with a grin. She hummed in affirmation. In truth, the dragon itself didn't matter, but the company. Also, she didn't want to beg her mother to ride Syrax again, and Dreamfyre was terrifying. Ser Laenor was always willing to let her ride Seasmoke with him, but he was off with Ser Qarl, as he often was of late.
"Visaera!" The princess and her uncle started and Visaera dropped his hand at the distant sound of Jace's voice. "Visaera, it's time to ready for supper!" She sighed and extracted herself from the prince's lap.
"I must go, my prince," she told him, giving him a proper curtsy. "Thank you, for braiding my hair," she added with a smile before hurrying off to join her brother. All the way back into the keep, she stroked her fingers over the ladder of hair; the smile never falling from her face...
Supper was always an annoying affair for the princess. They dined in their mother's quarters most evenings, away from the Queen and her children. Sitting beside her aunt Helaena was always preferable to listening to her little brothers bicker with one another. More often than not, she ate in silence and excused herself early, desperate to have time to herself before bed.
When her mother finally excused her that night, Visaera made for the library, as she regularly did when she planned to spend a night alone. Her lantern didn't illuminate much in the huge room, but the princess didn't want to call for one of the maids to light the fire for her; she didn't want anyone intruding in her safe place. In the aisles and stacks of tomes, the histories of the kingdoms could be found; tales of her ancestor's accomplishments, and occasionally, something fun to read. In the pages of those books, she could lose herself, if just for a while.
When she read about Queen Visenya being one of the greatest warriors ever seen, or the tale of Princess Nymeria leading her people to freedom, she somehow felt less insignificant, like maybe she had a chance to become something someday. Visaera ran her fingers reverently over the spines along a single row, muttering the titles to herself. She paused on a single book and plucked it from its place on the shelf
"The Heresy of Harren the Black: The Rise and Fall of Harrenhal." Aemond's voice startled her; she nearly lost hold of her lantern as she whipped around. "You've read that one already," he added with a raise of his brow.
"Damn you, Aemond Targaryen," she hissed, glaring at him, "You shouldn't sneak up on people." The prince chuckled and stepped forward; the light finally illuminating his face.
"I wasn't sneaking, niece," he told her, "Perhaps you should pay better attention to your surroundings. Were I some cutthroat, you'd be dead already."
"Were you a cutthroat, you wouldn't have made it this far into the keep," she answered with a sneer, "Besides, what's a single Velaryon girl to some assassin? They'd sooner be hunting for you, my prince."
"You're the next heir to the throne," he replied with a shrug.
"I'm a woman," she countered. Her response received a smirk and then Aemond moved past her, scanning the shelf.
"Here," he pulled a book from behind her and held it out, "You'll like this one." She took it and flipped it about so she could read it...
"Tales from the Doom: Stories and Poems of Valyria. But I thought we didn't have any stories written down after the volcanoes erupted?" Aemond shrugged.
"I don't know if they're all actually tales from Old Valyria," he admitted, "but I found it entertaining." Visaera handed him the book on Harren the Black and hugged the one he gave her tight to her chest.
"Goodnight, Aemond." She left him standing there against the shelf, only realizing when she returned to her rooms, that she had left him in the dark without a light...
Dim, grey light greeted Visaera when she opened her eyes in the morning. It was just after dawn and she could hear the birds greeting the day outside her windows. Stretching beneath the soft sheets, she willed herself to get out of bed. Early mornings were her favorite time of the day. For nearly an hour, she had free range of the keep; no parents scolding her, no Septa nagging at her, no Queen Alicent watching her with angry eyes... She was free to do whatever she wished, for a while, at least. This morning, though, her only wish was not to be alone.
The sound of her slippers echoed in the halls as she walked, until she finally took them off and carried them in her hand. A chill crept up her spine as her toes padded across the cold, stone floor. Peeking around the corner, Visaera watched as the guard in the corridor dozed, his chin pressed to the plate of his armor. She held her breath as she tiptoed around him; terrified that he was going to wake at any moment. Even as she pushed open the chamber door and stepped into Aegon's room, she watched the knight with wide, wary eyes. Bolting the door behind her, she crossed the room and poked at the covers.
"Aegon... Aegon..." she prodded his shoulder with her finger until the prince finally stirred.
"What?" he finally snapped. When he blinked his eyes open and took in the familiar sight of his niece, standing by the bed, clinging to her shoes, he sighed. "Come on," he finally told her, holding the covers open for her to crawl into bed beside him. Dropping her shoes on the floor, she hurried under the blankets and snuggled against Aegon, who was already dozing off. "Mm, you smell like citrus," he murmured, wrapping an arm around her and burying his face in her hair. Though she wasn't tired, tucked in his arms, feeling safe and comforted, Visaera found herself drifting off...
"My prince!" The sound of pounding on the door woke them sometime later. Visaera wasn't sure how long they had been asleep, but the sun had risen in the sky and the golden light outside Aegon's windows shone brightly. "My prince, the queen has requested your presence before breakfast is over!"
"Oh, gods! Fuck!" Visaera whispered in a panic, scrambling out from under the covers. Her uncle chuckled.
"Language, sweet niece," he chided softly.
"I fell asleep! If they catch me in here, our mothers are going to have my head!" Once she had her shoes on, Aegon gripped her shoulders.
"Relax, Vis, come on." Taking her hand in hers, he guided her across the room and, to her astonishment, pushed on the painted section of the wall. It gave way, opening outward and revealing a dim, dusty passageway.
"So, there are secret tunnels in the keep..." she murmured, peeking inside with intrigue. For years she had heard the rumors; everyone had heard the rumors. Maegor the Cruel had created so many enemies during his reign that he was sure someone was going to hire assassins to have him killed. So paranoid he was, that he had every person who helped build the keep murdered upon its completion, to ensure his secrets remained safe.
"Watch your footing, Vis. I've heard there are still traps set." She swallowed nervously as she imagined stepping on a trigger and being crushed by rocks or falling to her death. "Your rooms are two corridors down and to the left. Follow it as best you can and try not to get lost."
"What if I do get lost?" she asked; her voice a mere whisper as she imagined herself wandering blindly through the grey cobweb with no one to help her.
"If I don't see you after breakfast, I'll come to look for you, Vis, I promise." She nearly swayed on her feet from nervousness as she stepped into the passageway. "You can do this, niece, I know you can." She took a deep breath and nodded, and then he was pulling the wall closed behind him.
"You're alright, you're alright... It's just a few webs. Just a dusty passageway... Nothing is going to hurt you..." She hoped that talking aloud as she walked would reassure her, but her voice echoing around her only made her more uneasy. When she stepped directly through a cobweb, the strings sticking to her face and arms, she nearly screamed. Instead, she pressed herself against the wall and gulped in deep breaths of air.
Her mind was spiraling, panic overshadowing rational thought. Visaera slid down the wall onto her bum and looked both directions, wondering if she could make it back to Aegon's rooms on her own, but she wasn't even sure how many rooms she had passed.
Oh, gods... she thought, I'm going to die in here. I'm going to die all alone in the walls and no one will ever find my body... It could have been minutes or hours that she sat there with her head in her hands, horrifying thoughts running through her mind while tears ran down her cheeks. Realizing that no one would come to save her; that she had to make it out, she finally gathered herself. Pushing herself up from the floor, she took a deep breath and recounted her paces, and estimated how far she had moved within the walls.
Keeping one hand along the wall, Visaera did her best to count her steps and guess exactly where she was in the passageway, When, at last, she arrived at the archway she hoped lead to her quarters, she paused. There was no handle; no latch; nothing to pull the door with. Surely Aegon wouldn't have left her there if she had no way out. The whispers were that Maegor built miles and miles of passages inside the walls and beneath the floor. A king didn't build an entire network of passages to only have one or two outlets.
Her fingers traced along the frame of the archway as she reassured herself that she could find her way out. When she found no latch or trigger, she sighed and glanced around. A single sconce rested against the wall, devoid of any candles. Following her intuition, she tugged on the metal, relieved when the wall scraped open in front of her.
She fell into her rooms with a sob of alleviation, and a feeling of pride in her chest. As she dusted her dress off and pulled the webs from her silver locks, she wondered how long she had been stuck in the walls. One thing she knew, with absolute certainty: she never wanted to be alone in the passages ever again. By the time she made it to her parents' chambers, Rhaenyra and the boys had finished breakfast.
"Visaera," Rhaenyra greeted her with a frown, rubbing her swelling belly, "Are you alright, my love? You look a fright."
"I'm alright, mother," she insisted, forcing a weak smile. "I overslept." The lie fell from her lips with surprising ease as she took her seat and helped herself to breakfast.
"I'm afraid it's all rather cold," her mother informed her. Visaera shrugged. The temperature of her food didn't matter; she wasn't hungry anyway. She merely wanted to make an appearance at breakfast so her mother wouldn't worry. As she chewed on a cold sausage, she thought about the passageways again, a chill creeping down her spine. How many times had Aegon used them; how did he even know they existed? Lost in her thoughts, she continued to eat absentmindedly, until her mother sent her off to join Helaena for their lessons.
"The bond is strong, father and sons, the cord will be severed through fire." Visaera was trying to focus on her embroidery but her aunt's words caught her attention and her fingers stilled.
"What father?" she asked, staring at Helaena.
"Visaera, focus," Septa Brinna tapped on her wrist and her attention returned to the needlework in her hands. The red dragon she had been working on for days was nowhere near as intricate as the insect Helaena was embroidering and Visaera let out a sigh of disappointment. As she got older, the princess was only reminded of how unremarkable she really was. The Targaryen name meant nothing for she was a Velaryon. She was no dragonrider. Even in the areas where any princess was supposed to be skilled: dancing, singing, embroidery, she was lacking in all. Eventually, she huffed and tossed her needlework on the table; folding her arms across her chest.
"May I go?" she asked, glaring at the ceiling. After a long, pointed stare, Septa Brinna gave her a single nod. The clashing of steel met her ears as she joined the king on the bailey above the outer yard. Aemond and Aegon were sparring with one another while Ser Criston called out commands to them.
"Hello, little doe," Viserys greeted, patting her on the hand. Out of all the children, Visaera was the only one he had given a special nickname and she relished in the closeness she felt to her grandfather. A pang of sadness washed through her as she stared at the withering hand that clutched her own. The king had been ill for as long as she could remember and he usually wore a glove to hide his affliction. She wondered if he had forgotten it or if he merely wanted to feel the sun warm up his skin, as she had the day before.
"Hello, grandfather," she finally replied, leaning against his shoulder.
"What did you learn about today?" he asked. Such was their routine; every time she joined Viserys, whether in the yard or in his rooms, he asked her to recount her lessons. Instead of replying, she sighed heavily, earning a laugh from her grandsire. "I see..." he finally said.
"Helaena's embroidery was far better than mine," she complained, "Septa Brinna says my fingers tremble too much." As Aegon and Aemond repositioned themselves and faced off, Visaera leaned over the wall and watched. Aegon was taller than his brother, but she could already tell that Aemond was becoming the better swordsman. The younger prince focused on his footing and listened to Cole's advice, while Aegon didn't seem to take his training seriously.
The elder prince glanced up at her and a grin stretched across his face, a grin she found herself reflecting as she leaned over the edge of the bailey; the stone digging into her elbows. Neither of them noticed the way Ser Criston's eyes darted back and forth between them, his face pinched with annoyance.
Perhaps she's more like her mother than she lets on... the knight thought in dismay. He would do his best to ensure that Aegon wouldn't be roped in by a pretty face, as he once was.
"Aegon, focus!" he scolded, smacking the prince with the flat side of the sparring sword. The prince started and spun about, returning to his training. Visaera grinned as she watched the brothers fight until they were both drenched in sweat and covered in dust...