A week later, the city was swarming and visitors bustled around the Red Keep. The princess did her best to remain out of the way as preparations were made. Planning the event kept the Queen occupied and Visaera was relieved to have a reprieve from her criticism. The letter to her mother was forgotten about as Visaera spent the rest of that afternoon, and much of the week, in King's Landing, making her way through more shops than she cared to count; her goal being to find Aemond a proper nameday gift.
The morning of the tourney, Visaera spent hours deciding what to wear. With the entirety of the great houses in the capital, she couldn't very well wear one of her Lysene dresses. In the end, she selected the one her mother favored, the black and red one with split sleeves and gold embroidery. The neckline sat at the crest of her shoulders, just barely covering the top of her cleavage that was tightly smushed by her corset.
"Braid it all and tie it back, Alarya," she requested, running a hand over her soft curls. She didn't need the mess sticking to the sweat on her forehead. Already, she was perspiring beneath her dress, wishing she could wear something with less material. The rest of her dresses called out from the wardrobe, offering relief from the heat, but she ignored the desire to change.
Aemond's words had lingered after their conversation, reminding her that the views of the Seven Kingdoms would not be swayed in a day. And the last thing she wanted was to be the center of conversation during his nameday celebrations.
Her silent protests against the Queen and her condescension would have to wait for another day.
"Everyone's been waiting for you," Helaena whispered, taking her arm the moment she entered the lists. Her face flushed with embarrassment, realizing she was, once again, late. Taking her seat between Helaena and Aemond, Visaera frowned at the realization that the King was not in attendance. How could they hold a tourney and leave him alone in the keep? The injustice of it all made her stomach churn.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she glanced around Helaena. Aegon's eyes were burning when she finally met his gaze. Then his eyes flicked back and forth between her and Aemond and she fought the urge to groan at his obvious jealousy.
Suddenly, she wished her family was there. She would have been seated between her brothers, or beside Rhaena, and Aegon would have no reason to be jealous. With Visaera finally seated, Alicent and her father stood and addressed the crowd, marking the opening of the tourney.
Jousting had always been her favorite event as a child, but she found that the continuing contests of arms excited her far more. Each time one of the men drew their swords, her heart raced in her chest and she leaned forward in her chair.
The sound of steel ringing through the lists thrilled her and she found herself rising from her seat every so often to get a better look. Alicent seemed annoyed with her enthusiasm but Aegon and Aemond both seemed amused.
"Princess, Visaera," Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she picked up her garland and stepped forward, leaning over the edge.
"Lord Alistair," she greeted politely.
"Would you bestow me the honor of carrying your favor, princess?" She dropped the floral wreath onto the lance and smiled.
"Good luck," she called, before returning to her seat. It seemed her favor did bring him fortune, at least until the last match, hours later, when he was finally unseated. Both men were covered in dirt and blood, the match had been a close one.
As it was his nameday, Aemond was given the honor of announcing the day's champion. The afternoon had grown hotter, if that was even possible, and Visaera's vision swam the moment she rose from her chair. Not eating before she left the keep had been a mistake.
"Are you alright?" Aegon asked, gripping her around the waist to keep her steady.
"The heat must have caught up with me," she admitted, gripping his arm for balance.
"You need to eat something," Aemond offered as he joined them. "You missed breakfast." A glance was exchanged between Visaera and Aegon. For hours that morning, the pair had been cuddled together under her sheets. Perhaps if the prince had left her rooms earlier, she might have made it in time for breakfast. If Aemond understood or even noticed the look they shared, he did not react to it.
"Come, I'm sure mother will have ordered food be set out." Between the fact that it was his birthday and the commanding tone of his voice, Visaera simply complied, accompanying him back to the keep as a dutiful princess should.
No longer the center of her attention, Aegon sulked during the journey and Visaera fought the urge to roll her eyes. Even for his brother's nameday, the prince couldn't put aside his jealousy. He disappeared with a huff the moment they entered the grounds of the castle.
The gardens had been ornately decorated for the celebration and Visaera immediately picked over the cakes when they arrived, the sugar of the candied pear sticking to her lips and chin.
"You have a—" She panicked and moved to wipe her mouth with her sleeve but Aemond reached out and rubbed his thumb up her chin, cleaning the sugar from her skin. Despite the heat, goosebumps broke out across her skin as she watched the look in his eye darken; his thumb continued exploring, dancing over her lip in a way that was definitely not appropriate.
Visaera decided she needed to stop him. She should tell him that she was set on marrying Aegon and be done with it. But the look in his eye made her legs weak.
"Aemond—"
"Aemond, Visaera!" The pair started and broke apart at the sound of the Queen's voice. With her heart hammering in her chest, Visaera took another step away from the prince and looked at his mother.
Alicent looked as though she was mere moments from calling for Visaera's head. Her eyes were wide and there was an anger in them that the princess had never seen before. Clearly, she had witnessed the entire interaction.
Cheeks burning, Visaera bowed to Aemond and left him alone to face his mother. As much as Alicent angered her, it would not do well for Visaera to cause a scene at such a gathering. She joined Helaena on one of the benches and took a look at the book in her hand. Insects, of course...
"What's this one?" she asked, pointing.
"A bog skitter," Helaena replied, shifting the angle of the book so Visaera could see. "They live in swamps and marshes and feed on the flesh of dead animals."
"Mm," Visaera grimaced at her aunt.
"This one..." Turning the page backward, Helaena offered her a hand-painted image of the prettiest spider she had ever seen, its back decorated with a mix of purple and green. "This one is called a Chixus. They aren't found here in Westeros, but their bite is deadly."
"I will remember not to admire brightly colored bugs if I ever decide to travel across the Narrow Sea."
"Yes, you should remember that." Helaena smiled at her as though they were sharing some kind of secret; the look in her eyes unnerved Visaera and she excused herself as politely as she could. The longer she remained in the gardens, surrounded by ceaseless conversation, the more uncomfortable she grew. Every so often, a set of eyes would wander her way and when she met them unwaveringly, guilt would flash behind them and the person would look away or attempt to smile.
With a sigh of annoyance, she retreated from the celebration, unable to stand the falseness of the courtiers any longer. A familiar row of hedges gave her a sense of relief, knowing they effectively blocked out the sun and the view of the gathering. She rounded the corner, intending to take her favorite spot on the ground, but halted when she found it occupied.
"Aegon? What are you doing hiding over here?"
"I could ask you the same thing, princess," he replied, softly.
Visaera didn't like the cold way he addressed her, nor the fact that he hadn't looked at her.
"You're angry with me." It was not a question; she could feel the negativity radiating from him.
"I'm not—" she laughed, cold and bitterly.
"Yes, you are. Why, is the better question..."
"I'm not. I'm frustrated." Aegon replied, sounding dejected.
"Why?"
"How long are you going to make me wait, Visaera?"
"What—"
"Do you enjoy torturing me, is that it? Is that why you keep toying with Aemond?"
"But I—"
"I used to think you were the kindest soul I've ever met, but perhaps you're the cruelest."
"Aegon—" He refused to let her speak, continuing to rant.
"I've been professing my love to you, waiting for you, since the moment you returned to the keep, nearly two moons ago, and for what? For you to throw it back in my face every time my brother gives you attention?"
"That's not fair, Aegon, I haven't—"
"You haven't?" He was almost shouting, now, his eyes burning with jealousy. "You think I don't know that he's had his hands on you more than once? That he's kissed you and you let him?" he asked, stepping toward her. She stepped back, more in shock than fear. "The keep has more eyes than you know, Visaera." Alarya had said as much the week before...
If Aegon knew about everything that had happened between her and Aemond, she wondered just how many people knew Aegon had been sharing her bed at night.
He hurried toward her and pulled her hands into his, the hold on her surprisingly gentle compared to the look in his eyes.
"Go to my mother, tell her you've decided to marry me. Now." She snorted and pulled her hands away, his command stirring her anger.
"Or what, Aegon?" she countered, her lips curling into a sneer. "I cannot believe you're jealous when I've been spending every night with you for weeks! I've practically fucked you—"
"But you haven't fucked me, have you?" he snapped, stepping toward her. "You love to spread your legs for me but refuse to give me—" She didn't wait for him to finish his sentence before her hand collided with his cheek.
"How fucking dare you?" she hissed, ignoring the way her palm was throbbing from the impact of the slap. "I am the future Queen of the seven kingdoms, not some whore for you to command! If this is the way you speak to me, the way you make demands of me, perhaps you will be waiting forever, Aegon." She turned on her heel and stormed off the way she had come, refusing to cast a single glance backward.
Gasps and complaints were made as she marched through the gardens, forcing the attendants of the celebration to scurry out of her way. Fury was coursing through her, making her skin burn and her breathing quicken.
How dare he? She had spent nearly every free moment with him and he had the audacity to imply that she was behaving licentiously toward Aemond?
"Are you alright?" When a hand gripped her arm, she instinctively tore it away.
"Don't fucking touch me!" she snarled. A look of hurt flashed across Aemond's face before disappearing, immediately replaced with his usual stoic expression. It quelled the ire in her, if only by a fraction. "I'm sorry, I—" she sighed and hurried away, guilt mixing with the flood of emotions she was feeling. The remainder of the afternoon was spent in the back corner of the library, knowing it would be devoid of life during such a celebration.
It wasn't until Ser Jaunton finally found her that she reluctantly returned to the gardens. After only eating a few bites of cake, she had to admit she was hungry. Alarya joined them soon after, carrying the items Visaera had needed from her rooms.
The scene felt oddly familiar as she pulled Aemond aside a handed him the book that Alarya had brought down from her room.
"A book?" he asked, as he had all those years before. The sides of his mouth twitched.
"The Black Dread and The Dornish Queen; A Tale of Conquest and Sorrow. It's an account of Aegon's conquest, from the perspective of both sides. I know you like your history books..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, for earlier. I had argued—"
"With my brother," he finished. She looked up into his eye, surprised. "He's been drinking all afternoon; it was rather obvious."
"Mm," came her acknowledgment.
"May I ask you something?"
"You just did," she answered with a grin, he didn't smile back.
"Why haven't you just agreed to marry him? It's obvious that—"
"I wish everyone would just shut up about it," Visaera complained. "Two moons ago, I was on Dragonstone with not a single thought about marriage and now it's all anyone wants to talk about."
"I don't understand," he replied, "It's apparent to everyone around you that you both are—"
"I don't want to talk about it, really, Aemond. It's your nameday and you should be celebrating." She took a deep breath and then smiled. "One more thing... Something special," she gestured toward the book in his hand, "and something sweet..." From behind her back, she produced a small jar of candied cherries.
"How did you..." The look of surprise on his face made her grin. Visaera had spent a long while in the kitchens during the previous week, finding out what sort of sweets the prince preferred. She shrugged at him, satisfied with his reaction to his gift this time around.
He leaned in, as though he wanted to kiss her and Visaera took a step back. If she kissed him now, she would feel like Aegon's earlier accusations were true, like she was whoring herself between them.
"I shouldn't keep you, my prince. I'm sure there are many people who would enjoy having your company this evening." Dipping into a proper curtsy, she left him holding his gifts in his hands and staring after her.
Visaera didn't linger for long after she had presented Aemond with his gifts. The heat of the day, as well as her interactions, had taken a toll on her and she was in dire need of a full night's sleep. As Alarya brushed through her hair, she thought about Aegon, a familiar feeling of guilt gnawing her insides. Perhaps she had been too harsh with him. After all, he only wanted to marry her and live happily ever after.
It wasn't long before the gnawing feeling became all-consuming and she felt the need to apologize for her reaction. She slipped into the passageway and made for his rooms, intending to make it up to him. As she reached for the sconce to open the wall, a voice met her ears and she paused. Pressing her face against the hidden door, she listened. Aegon was speaking in a low voice to someone... Closing her eyes, she strained to hear what was being said.
"Of course, my prince," the soft, feminine voice acknowledged, followed by a groan from Aegon. The blood drained from her face and for a moment she was frozen to the spot. Then she ripped herself away from the door, unwilling to listen any further.
The entire way back to her room, she fought the urge to cry, gritting her teeth and blinking away the tears. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. After what he had done to her in the past, she had allowed him back into her heart, only for him to rip it to shreds a second time.
In the safety of her room, her legs finally gave out and she allowed the grief to wash over her. She hated him; she hated herself for giving him another chance. When the tears finally came, she didn't bother to wipe them away, she merely melted into a puddle on the floor along with them. Alarya found her there in the morning...