When Visaera and Carrion finally dropped below the clouds, they were immediately battered with rain and the princess struggled to keep her hold on the dragon's back as he quickly became slippery.
Lightning flashed in the sky, helping her find her way in the dark and Visaera landed Carrion nearly a mile from the keep. Her dragon may have bonded with her but he was far from tame and she didn't want to risk the safety of any of the guards.
"Stay here and try not to eat anyone!" she commanded in their mother tongue, patting him reassuringly. In the pouring rain, Visaera changed her torn tunic and removed her gloves, shoving them in her satchel. The walk wasn't far, but Visaera was exhausted and, by the time she reached the castle, the princess was soaked through and panting. As she stepped through the gates and announced her arrival, Visaera tried to fluff her hair and straighten her clothes, hoping to look somewhat presentable for the Lord of Storm's End.
"Princess Visaera Velaryon, daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," one of the guards called as they opened the doors and she stepped into the Round Hall, dripping rainwater onto the stone floor.
"Lord Borros," she greeted breathlessly. "I apologize for the state of my appearance, it seems the Stormlands are aptly named." Borros smiled, but it was the derisive snort across the hall that caught her attention. Still, she refused to look Aemond's way. "I bring a message, my lord, from my mother... The Queen..."
"And yet, earlier this day I received an envoy from... The King... So, which is it? King or Queen?" Borros asked. "It seems the House of the Dragon does not know who rules it." His words angered her and she replied without thinking.
"The entirety of House Targaryen knows who the rightful heir to the throne is, whether they choose to admit it or not," she finally glanced across the room at her uncle. The eyepatch had resumed its place over his sapphire eye and for some reason, this angered her further. "The question that remains is... do you, my lord?" His daughters broke into shocked whispers and Aemond's eye widened at her blunt disrespect, but Borros only laughed, amused.
"What's your mother's message, girl?" She held up the sealed scroll and one of the guards plucked it from her fingers, crossing the hall and passing it to Borros. After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he called for the maester in a huff of annoyance. "Another marriage offer, how interesting..." he mused.
"Yes, my Lord," she replied dutifully, "It is my mother's expressed desire to see the realm at peace. In addition to uniting your house, once again, to House Targaryen, you will, in turn, also be uniting the Stormlands with the North. Should you ever need support, the Crown, and the North will offer aid without fail."
Rhaenyra had insisted she let Lord Borros know that their offer would come with certain assurances, but Visaera wondered if she should be revealing so much in front of her uncle. Aemond didn't need to know what their plans were. And yet... It felt good to see shock written on his face.
"The North?" Lord Borros echoed, looking confused.
"Of course, my Lord," she answered with a polite curtsy, keeping her tone soft. Visaera knew how to play her part. "My marriage to Lord Stark will guarantee you always have a friend in Winterfell. Your grandchildren and my children will be cousins, assuring a long-lasting bond between our houses."
To anyone else, Aemond would have seemed disinterested in the conversation, but Visaera saw the way his gaze sharpened and his jaw clenched at her words. He was furious. The knowledge sent a shiver of satisfaction through her and she fought the urge to grin.
"And yet, if one of my daughters were to wed Prince Aemond—"
"They would stand to inherit nothing from a second son," Visaera added, the grin finally spreading across her face as she glanced at the prince. Visaera found it amusing that terms were offered to her mother only hours ago, ensuring Aemond still desired to marry her, and yet, he was standing in the Round Hall, offering his hand to someone else. Alicent and Otto were every bit the snakes she had assumed them to be and she wondered if Aegon knew they had sent terms at all...
"Says the daughter of a whore," Aemond muttered, just loud enough for his voice to echo through the hall. Visaera gritted her teeth but held her smile.
"From the mouth of the usurper's brother, that sort of slander is a pathetic attempt at an insult." Aemond was smirking, but Visaera watched the way his fingers twitched, as though he were preparing to reach for his dagger. "No, I suppose my dear uncle and I will never see eye to eye on the matter," she said, turning her attention back to Lord Borros. "Then again," Aemond tensed, already knowing she was going to insult him, the same way he had insulted her brothers, "I don't believe Aemond really sees eye to eye with anyone..."
One of the daughters laughed and then hurried to cover the sound with a cough and Aemond's lip curled back into a sneer. Lightning flashed through the hall and a boom of thunder followed as Visaera and Aemond continued to stare at one another, yet Lord Borros hardly noticed. The maester had begun whispering back and forth with him as everyone waited for some sort of decision.
"I find it odd that you are bringing these terms to Lord Borros tonight when my grandfather met with my half-sister only this morning," Aemond commented idly.
"Indeed, uncle, imagine my surprise to find you here, as well. The terms Otto offered were so very generous, after all." Aemond's smirk only widened. He knew what terms had been sent... This meant he did not intend to follow through with one of the marriages he offered, but which she didn't know. "Have these terms already been settled with Cregan Stark?" Aemond asked. The question seemed innocent enough, but Visaera knew he was on the verge of combustion. Despite his cool exterior, rage and jealousy too easily controlled him; she had seen it before in the Red Keep.
"Oh, yes," she assured, "Once I return to Dragonstone, I will sail for White Harbor." Visaera hoped he couldn't see the lie in her eyes. Borros was nodding at her, clearly considering the fact that if the Starks had declared for Rhaenyra, she might be the safer option.
"If you make it back to Dragonstone," Aemond growled.
"Did you just threaten the princess, uncle?" she asked softly, "Careful, one might call you craven as well as a traitor." With a snarl, he stepped threateningly toward her. Refusing to be intimated, Visaera held up her left palm, revealing the scar on her hand, taunting him.
"I made that oath to my future wife," he hissed. Borros had heard him and his brows knitted in concern and confusion, clearly missing the tension between the princess and her uncle.
"And yet you rush to see that betrothal replaced," she snapped, "I suppose your loyalty can easily be swayed when it comes to your snake of a mother." Aemond took another step growling at her.
"Enough! House Targaryen can fight and clamor over the realm as they wish, but I will not see bloodshed in beneath my roof." Borros announced, "Clavish, see to it that chambers are prepared for the princess—"
"That is kind, but unnecessary, my lord," Visaera replied with a sweet smile and a small bow of her head. "I'm grateful to you for the offer but, as I am a young woman unaccompanied by a chaperone, I do believe it is best if I return to Dragonstone. Take your time considering our offer; we will await your answer." With a perfect dip, Visaera curtsied, turned heel, and left the Round Hall without another glance at her uncle.
The wind whipped about, tugging her damp curls every which way; Visaera didn't care. She was relieved to be out of the hall and away from Aemond. Seeing him had set her on edge and her emotions were barely hiding beneath the surface of her skin. Once the doors closed behind her, she let out a scream of frustration.
She hurried down the stairs and across the yard as the rain pummeled her, soaking her to the bone in a matter of seconds. Slipping out of the inner gate and shivering heavily, she tried to assure herself it was only due to the cold. Visaera let out a startled scream as her arm was gripped and she was wrenched backward, losing her balance. She battled against the hands that held her, tugging her until her back was pressed to a hard chest. Even through the rain, she breathed in his scent and felt his warmth against her back.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Aemond hissed in her ear.
"Fuck you!" she yelled, throwing her head back in the hopes it would collide with his nose. Her efforts failed and could feel him smirking against her skin; the realization only fueling her anger.
"Did you think I would ever let you marry Cregan fucking Stark?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her and pinning hers at her sides. "Do you think the North can protect you, Visaera? That I would not burn Winterfell to the ground the moment you stepped foot inside the walls?"
The tone of his voice had changed; he was taunting her and, despite her ire, she found her pulse quickening at his words. "Do you think I would let anyone else have you, little doe?" His mouth was on the side of her neck; making heat pool between her legs in spite of herself.
"Let me go!" Visaera hissed, stomping on his foot. The action caught him off guard and he hissed in pain, releasing her. She reached for her dagger and ran, nearly slipping on the soaked ground, and Aemond caught her once more around the waist, shoving her into the outer wall. One hand wrapped around her throat and the other pressed her own dagger to her cheek.
"Sweet, little doe, what do you plan to do with this?" he asked, eyeing the blade in his hands. Sometime during their struggle, his eyepatch had come off and the sapphire in his eye socket glittered at her.
"Call me 'little doe' one more time and I will show you a dragon," she hissed, seething, "I will give you fire and blood!" His eye widened as her words registered in his head and the dagger retreated from the side of her face. The sound of the storm was all that could be heard as he stared at her in astonishment.
"You did it, didn't you?" he finally breathed out, "You claimed a fucking dragon..." Visaera realized, too late, that her words had given away her hidden advantage and she cursed her temper. Before she could affirm of deny his question, his mouth slammed down on hers so hard it knocked her back against the stone wall, her head singing with pain. "I always knew you could do it," he added, kissing her passionately, his mouth skimming over her lips and down her jaw.
She wanted to push him away, to hurt him, anything but respond to his touch, but that's exactly what she did. "I'm so fucking proud of you, Visaera." Despite their predicament, his praises made her body sing and she found herself growing slick with desire.
Aemond's lips and tongue trailed down over the contours of her collarbones, stretching her tunic until his mouth met her cleavage. Visaera was quickly losing her sanity as her body reacted to his touch. Then his hand was attempting to push its way into her leathers, and Visaera swallowed a moan.
Trying desperately to remember just how angry she was, Visaera reached out and struck him across the face, eager for him to feel a fraction of the pain she had been feeling. Aemond smirked at her as though her slap had done nothing, and reached for her shirt, tearing it in one quick motion.
"Fuck you!" she screamed, shoving at him and battling against his chest.
"That's exactly what I intend to do," he growled, eye glittering mischievously before he latched his mouth to her neck. Spinning Visaera about, Aemond pressed her against the wall, kissing his way up the side of her neck and murmuring adorations in her ear.
Visaera wanted to hurt him, she wanted to scream and struggle and fight but she did none of those things. In spite of the emotional war raging inside her, Visaera wanted him; craved his fire. Instead of battling, she felt herself grow wet as Aemond pushed one hand beneath her torn tunic and the other into her leathers. Pinned against the wall, Visaera's head fell back against his shoulder as he pinched her nipple with one hand and rubbed circles over her clit with the other.
"Iksā iā zaldrīzes, Visaera." Aemond murmured in her ear, "Emā va moriot issare iā zaldrīzes. Gūrogon ñuha perzys, ñuha jorrāelagon." Visaera whimpered as his praising words, accompanied by his touch, set her insides alight. Raking her bottom lip between her teeth, Visaera felt herself melting in his hands, losing her sanity to the pleasure he was giving her.
Then his nimble fingers were undoing the laces of her pants and tugging them down on her thighs. The rain continued to cascade down over them as Aemond gripped her hips and pulled her away from the wall. Instinctively, she leaned forward and braced herself against it, arching toward him.
"Konir sagon ziry, ñuha jorrāelagon. Aōha orvorta iksis ñuhon." His crude words only sent a surge of desire coursing through her and she moaned as he unbuttoned his own britches and pressed his cock to her dripping center.
The hand that had occupied her shirt slipped away from her breast, fisting her hair and wrenching her head back. "Gūrogon ziry hae iā sȳz riña, zaldrītsos," he commanded as the thrust into her roughly, burying herself to the hilt and making Visaera cry out.
Aemond fucked her at a bruising pace, pounding into her as her nails dug into the stone wall and sighs of pleasure fell from her lips. With every flick of his hips, Visaera was being driven to the edge of madness, pure ecstasy only moments away.
Then, another surge of lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and lighting up the giant green dragon in the distance. As Visaera's eyes focused on Vhagar the reality of what they were doing hit her with the force of a rockslide. With a cry of frustration, Visaera shifted to her right and tore herself away from Aemond.
The prince hadn't expected her movement and nearly slipped on the wet ground as she wrenched her leathers up over her hips. With a scream, Visaera launched herself at him, striking him anywhere she could. It only took a moment for Aemond to overpower her, rolling her onto her back in the mud.
"Enough, Visaera," he hissed.
"Enough? It will never be enough! Until my mother is on the throne and your family bends the knee, there will be war! Your family killed my fucking sister and I hate you as much as I hate them!" Visaera scrambled for hold of something, anything, and finally located her dagger on the ground. Pressing it to his sternum, she snarled and Aemond finally relinquished his hold on her.
"You have to let me go, Aemond," she panted over the sound of the storm. "Your family made their choice. Unless they can see sense, this ends in fire and blood and neither of us can stop it." Without another word, she spun around and sprinted into the darkness, assuring herself that the tiny droplets sliding down her cheeks were only rain, not tears...
What felt like hours later, she finally found her dragon on the dark hill where she had left him. It took her four tries in her emotional state to mount Carrion in the downpour, nearly slipping as she settled between his wings. "Sōvegon, Carrion! Naejot Zaldrīzesdōron!"
Flying a dragon in the rain was a difficult task; clinging to one bareback in a torrential storm was far worse. Carrion was used to the occasional gale on Dragonstone, but he had become accustomed to retreating into the safety of the Dragonmont when foul weather struck. Still, the black dragon tried his best to stay level as he angled them toward home.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled before she spotted Vhagar in the clouds. Over the sound of the storm, she could hear Aemond calling her name. Her eyes started burning first, and then the sweating began. No, no, no... Not now. Images of Luke flashed before her eyes in a similar scenario, rain pouring down around her brother and Arrax. Then the vision shifted. Visaera saw blue skies, ocean waves, and white fluffy clouds, blinding her.
Visaera sobbed, unable to tell what she was looking at any longer, but relieved that the vision had changed. Luke was safe; that's all she wanted. Blood had already filled her burning eyes and she blinked repeatedly trying to clear them. Without her sight, Visaera clung desperately to Carrion's spike and trusted him to lead them to safety. Only she hadn't accounted for Vhagar.
The green dragon surged forward, blocking Carrion's path. Carrion banked hard to the left and, without her vision, Visaera hadn't been prepared for the sudden shift. Her body was tugged right and her fingers slipped away from Carrion's spikes, as the force of his turn nearly threw her from his back. Panicked, Visaera scrambled to regain purchase on his spikes but, no matter how she clawed, her body continued to slide.
She felt her leathers tear as she tried to tighten her legs around him, but his scales were wet and her hold slipped. With a single, terrified scream, she fell from her dragon, suddenly realizing that by avoiding Luke's death, she had successfully secured her own. She had one moment to observe the sick irony before her entire body exploded with pain and her vision went black...
***NOTES***
Aemond's Valyrian translations:
"You are a dragon, Visaera. You have always been a dragon. Take my fire, my love."
"That's it, my love. Your cunt is mine."
"Take it like a good girl, little dragon."