Visaera could hear Aemond pacing back and forth across the room long before she opened her eyes. She didn't need to ask to know it had been days since Daeron attacked her, since she plunged Aemond's dagger into his neck. The entire thing felt surreal, like a nightmare that couldn't possibly have happened, and yet it had, she knew for certain it had because the image haunted her.
"I suppose we both truly have lost a brother, now..." she said softly. The prince paused in his pacing and stared at her incredulously as she sat up against the pillows.
"Sometimes, I swear, you're just looking for ways to make my life a fucking nightmare, Vis... Do you have any idea what the last few days have been like?" he asked her.
"No, I don't. I believe I was rather busy recovering from almost dying..." she replied dryly. "Why did no one tell me Daeron was alive after I attacked Old Town?" she added. "The guilt I carried—"
"Was well deserved," Aemond answered with a sharp look. Visaera sighed and rubbed her aching scalp. She could feel small patches where her hair had been ripped out by Daeron during their struggle.
"Fair enough." Visaera relented, clamping her mouth shut. A long, uncomfortable silence followed until Aemond sat down on the edge of the bed. "These aren't your quarters, nor mine..." she observed.
"No," he answered, "It's safer to keep you far away from my mother. She's been screaming and sobbing for three days." Visaera opened her mouth to defend herself but Aemond shook his head. "I know Daeron attacked you, Vis. Some of your burns have yet to heal, I don't imagine you engaging with him unless he gave you no choice." The prince reached out and stroked the side of her face.
"I gave him a chance, Aemond," she whispered, her voice trembling at the memory, "I told him I didn't want to kill him." She slapped her hand over her mouth, covering a gasp, as she remembered everything that Daeron had told her. "He had help, Aemond..." The look in the prince's eye sharpened and he leaned toward her.
"Tell me everything..." She recounted as many details as she could, of how Daeron said Otto had given Larys the command to poison her, how the corridors were void of guards, how she tried to run to his chambers in the hopes that he would be there. "It is a strange coincidence that the small council was called at the same time Daeron attacked you." Aemond offered. "We thought that, perhaps, Grandfather had important news to share, but the council just prattled on about the same damn nuances they always do."
"You don't think Aegon—" The mere thought made her want to die right then and there.
"No, no," he interjected, placing his hand over hers reassuringly. "Aegon would never." But Visaera remembered the way he had looked at her that night in his chambers... Her lip quivered as the thought lingered in her mind.
"I'm tired, Aemond..." she breathed, leaning back against the pillows. "I'm so tired..." Daeron's words haunted her; every choice she made for the last year haunted her. Perhaps it was the milk of the poppy, or the aching of her wounds, or the look on Aemond's face as he regarded her, but suddenly she wondered if she should have just let Daeron kill her. Was fighting for her life just another one of her many mistakes? Perhaps they were all better off without her...
There was a soft knock at the door and then it cracked open and Helaena peaked into the room.
"Hel..." Visaera breathed, straining to push herself up on the bed.
"Don't trouble yourself, Vis," Helaena said softly. Her aunt leaned over and whispered in Aemond's ear. Visaera watched as his eye widened and he nodded at his sister. Helaena patted her niece on the hand and then left the room in a hurry.
"I have to go but I will be back, Visaera. Do not leave this room, under any circumstances." The princess nodded, not having any choice in the matter. Left alone with her thoughts, Visaera broke down. What started as a few tears turned into choking sobs as she grieved for her family and for the girl inside her that she had lost.
A loud crash echoed through the corridor, startling her from her thoughts, and Alicent's scream followed. Visaera could only imagine how the Dowager Queen felt, but part of her wanted to sneer. Alicent had never been warm or caring with any of her children; Daeron had resided in Old Town for nearly eight years. It seemed odd to the princess that Alicent was mourning a son she hardly knew. But, then again, she was not a mother. Visaera had no idea how it felt to lose a child.
She knew how it felt to lose Luke; she supposed that was the closest thing to losing a child she could get. As a wave of pain surged through her at the thought of her brother, Alicent's hysterics seemed less strange than they had only a moment before...
Perhaps if she had been killed by Daeron, her mother would see the Hightower name burned to the ground. Still, that would be a death sentence for her aunt and uncles, as well. Along with Alicent's shrill cries, Visaera could hear Aegon and Aemond in the hall, their voices raised. She cringed, thinking about all the destruction she had caused; imagining her mother harming either of them made her sick to her stomach.
The sounds in the corridor continued and Visaera had to grip the sheets and grit her teeth to keep herself from crying. Minutes or hours later, she couldn't be sure, the corridor fell silent once more.
With little else to do, the princess pulled the bandage away from her chest, staring at the wide, stitched scab just below her shoulder. Tracing her fingers over it, she wondered how she had managed such luck when Daeron's dagger had been aimed at her sternum. More than once in the last few months, she should have died, and yet, the Gods kept sending her back. Why did they keep sending her back? Each time, she only caused more destruction, was that the intention?
Aegon had been right the last time he had spoken to her. Visaera had been a spoiled cunt, trying to play both sides of the war, trying to see everyone come out a victor. Trying to keep both brothers for herself. For a brief moment, she thought of throwing herself from the window; taking the choice from the Gods, once and for all. But killing herself was just as selfish as everything else she had done.
Aemond was gone for hours and, eventually, Visaera fell asleep. Tossing and turning, the sounds of screams and the crunch of bones plagued her dreams. She woke with a scream of her own, dripping in sweat and gasping for air.
"You're alright..." Aemond assured her, crossing the room to press his palm to her sweaty forehead. "You're alright, Vis." Shaking her head, Visaera gently pushed his hand away, trying to push the image of Tessarion's death from her mind.
"No, I'm not. And I don't deserve to be... If you're not going to let me go home, I should be in the cells, Aemond. I don't deserve any of this. I'm a horrible fucking person." Aemond chuckled and she stared up at him in confusion. What could possibly be funny about this moment?
"You're not a horrible person, Visaera. You're a good person who has made some dumb choices."
"Dumb choices that have seen other people killed, Aemond," she replied bitterly. "Why are you so determined to see the good in me where there is none?"
"There is, Visaera. I've seen it." When she pushed her cuticles between her teeth, Aemond sighed.
"Aemond, I never wanted any of this to happen; I was only trying to help, and then..." And then Luke died... "Things spiraled out of control so quickly... I spiraled out of control—" The door burst open and Aegon stormed into the room, haphazardly dressed and breathing heavily.
"I need you, now, Aemond. Stark and his men have been spotted near The Trident."
"Fuck..." Aemond breathed. Neither man bothered to give Visaera a glance as they strode from the room. Cregan Stark was marching his men to Harrenhal, to Daemon...
The next few days were the loneliest of Visaera's life. Whenever her pain returned, she would drink her milk of the poppy and drift off to sleep for a few blissful hours. However, when she was awake, her mind was plagued with grief and guilt. Barred from the outside, Visaera's door would not budge and she began to search the walls for a passageway.
When Aemond finally returned to find the entire contents of the bookshelf on the floor, he raised an eyebrow at her. It didn't take longer than a moment for him to realize what she had been doing. Wordlessly, he plucked the tomes up from the floor and stacked them on the table.
"You were trying to leave?" he asked, taking a seat beside her on the bed.
"Daemon has been waiting for the North to join him. If Cregan and his men have marched south, it means Daemon has more than five-thousand men at his disposal and ready to fight. Daemon has always wanted war; he's always hated Otto. He will march on the capital; the question that remains is when." She paused and swallowed. "If I can make it home and send a raven, perhaps that doesn't need to happen. I don't want to see anyone else die..."
"I still think I should have put a babe in you," he muttered with a smirk. Visaera snorted at the fact that he could still jest about such a thing.
"Your little brother would have cut it out and presented it to your mother," she replied seriously. Aemond paled at the thought and the smirk fell from his face. "I want to go and present terms to my mother. Whatever terms you and Aegon set, I will encourage her to accept. If I had gone to Rook's Rest myself, perhaps none of this would have happened in the first place."
"As of now, you are our only assurance that your mother and father will not burn the capital to the ground, Vis."
"Aemond, I love you and Aegon and Helaena as much as I love the rest of my family. I will do whatever I can to see you all safe. Please, just meet with Aegon and ask him. I know he hates me, but there was a time when he didn't. There has to be a way to settle this. I will take whatever terms you deem acceptable." Aemond sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"I will speak to Aegon about it on the morrow. For now, I want you to rest. I need to send a raven..." Aemond leaned over and kissed her forehead, leaving her alone once more...