Every member of the household was required to attend the banquet held that night. Visaera, groggy from milk of the poppy to ease the pain, sat in silence as Aemond rubbed circles over the back of her hand beneath the table. His demeanor was calm and relaxed, but both of them knew that something had shifted between them.
To her left, Baela talked on and on about Cregan Stark, having met him that morning.
"He's really quite dashing, you know... And he has a sister our age."
"Does he?" Visaera replied dutifully, hardly listening to her sister, lost in her own thoughts. She finally turned to look at Baela, who actually seemed thrilled by an impending marriage with Cregan, "But you'll come visit, won't you, Baela? After all Winterfell is rather cold, is it not? What about Moondancer?" Baela thought on it for a moment before answering.
"Well, I heard that Winterfell is built over hot springs, even heating the walls of the keep itself. Perhaps it's time they had a Dragonpit." The idea made Visaera smile at her sister, and she lifted her glass to Baela.
"To you, my sweet, little sister, and a long and happy marriage." She offered.
"Thank you, Vis." Baela replied as she glanced across the throne room and Visaera's gaze followed. Cregan Stark was watching Baela Targaryen with burning grey eyes. The princess couldn't be happier for her sister. Glancing at Rhaena, sitting beside Daemon at the opposite end of the table, she wondered what would become of her sister's future.
Jace leaned in and said something in Helaena's ear and Visaera watched her aunt smile and laugh. Her brother was one of the kindest, most honorable souls she had ever met, and she realized just how happy they would be together. Driftmark was only a short flight from the capital, and she was grateful they would be nearby. At the end of the table, Aegon switched constantly between his wine and water, looking as miserable as Visaera felt. When his gaze shifted toward the opposite end of the table, Visaera sat back and averted her eyes.
The throne room was a cacophony of laughter and cheers and Visaera couldn't help but feel like she didn't belong there. Her thoughts turned to the remainder of the traitors she knew were being held in the dungeon for very public executions and her stomach churned.
"I'm going to be sick..." she whispered to Aemond before rising from the table and hurrying from the hall. Daemon shared a look with his wife and, receiving a nod from the queen, strode from the room.
"Visaera," he called. She was halfway up the stairs and paused mid-step. "Are you alright?"
"Of course," she replied, forcing a tight smile. "Women's troubles," she offered, making him grimace. It was true, her bleeding was due any day, it was far easier for her to lie and offer her father comfort than explain everything. She had caused enough trouble to last a lifetime. Visaera had made her bed and she was going to have to lie in it.
For the next five days, Visaera remained in her quarters, refusing anyone entry other than Alarya. Her handmaid cared for her as best she could, watching to make sure she didn't starve herself.
"Alarya," she began softly as they sat in front of the hearth. A fire had been burning for hours but Visaera still felt cold.
"Yes, love?" Alarya replied, brushing through her hair, careful to avoid the missing patches.
"What will happen with Ser Jaunton? You're in love with him, aren't you?" A long silence followed but she felt her maid sigh behind her.
"I am..." Alarya answered softly.
"But he's a knight of the Queensguard." Visaera replied. "You can't marry..."
"He could ask for leave, if he desired to, but I would never ask it of him." Replaying the last few months in her head, Visaera could understand what Alarya meant. Loving someone sometimes required sacrifice...
The next morning, Visaera woke before dawn, clawing at her neck and screaming as Daeron Targaryen wrapped his hands around her throat. It took her a moment to remember that her uncle was dead, and she was safe in her quarters. With a huff of frustration, she tore herself from bed and dressed, securing her hair back in a messy braid and dawning her riding leathers. Her wounds still plagued her, but she needed to get out of the fucking keep before she went mad.
Riding from the keep with Ser Jaunton at her side, Visaera made her way directly to the Dragonpit. As her mother had assured her days before, Carrion had been waiting for her. The black dragon seemed to mirror her feelings, letting out a huge roar of discontent as he pushed off and they ascended over the city. The moment they passed over the bay, Carrion was flying at full speed, twisting and looping about as Visaera allowed him to enjoy a few hours of freedom.
When the sun rose, Visaera commanded him southwest, touching down somewhere in the Kingswood and allowing Carrion to fish in the river. Laying on her back in the dirt, Visaera closed her eyes and listened to the birds sing, remembering the last time she had been in the Kingswood, before she claimed her dragon. So much had changed and she felt more lost than ever.
Even though she didn't want to, she found herself thinking about Aemond again, unsure of the feelings that accompanied the thoughts. On one hand, she had to commend him for being both clever and determined. After all, she had been the one to tell him that if he wanted something, he needed to take it. On the other hand, he had purposely manipulated her and Aegon both, ruining their chance at a healthy relationship in the process.
Visaera knew Aegon wasn't blameless in the situation, he had chosen to dally with women while she was on Dragonstone. But the princess also understood his need to fill the hole that her absence had left behind. Both of them were so similar in that way, they turned to self-destruction when they were hurting. As if her body was reacting to the thought, Visaera picked at the edges of her nails as she lost herself in contemplation.
When Visaera returned from her flight, she marched through the keep, determine to finally find some closure. She found Aegon with Grand Maester Gerardys, reading through scrolls. It seemed that the prince was taking his new role serving her mother seriously.
"Grand Maester, if I could have a moment with my uncle, please."
"Of course, princess," he replied with a bow, closing the door as he left the room. Visaera didn't bother to take a seat; she wasn't going to stay long, and Aegon still hadn't looked at her. She realized at that moment that she would never again see that look in his lavender eyes that she had loved so much.
"I'm so sorry, Aegon," she finally sighed, tears springing in her eyes the moment she spoke. "I'm sorry for everything I've put you through. I was so selfish—"
"You likely saved my life in the throne room; I owe you a great deal of—"
"That's not what I mean, Aegon." Visaera replied, already feeling exhausted by the conversation. If only she could make him understand how much she loved him, how sorry she was for her mistakes; for hurting him. "I—"
The door flew open with a bang and Aemond stood in the archway, staring at the pair of them, annoyance written all over his face. Visaera merely blinked her eyes and inhaled a deep breath threw her nose. She didn't have the energy to deal with his jealousy at the moment.
"I haven't seen you for days... You refuse to see me, but you'll speak to Aegon?" he snarled as he stepped into the room. Rolling her eyes, Visaera merely huffed and pushed past him and out of the room, unwilling to be pulled into an argument in front of Aegon. She was nearly halfway down the corridor before Aemond caught up with her, catching her by the wrist and spinning her about to face him.
"Vis—" She struck at him, without fully having a reason why, merely longing for him to hurt as she was hurting. He hardly reacted to the blow, other than the sneer that spread across his face. "You cannot avoid me forever, princess. And we can't very well marry if—"
"Have you considered the fact that I might have changed my mind?" she hissed at him, "That I no longer wish to marry you." He stared at her, his violet eye wide, and, for the first time in a long while, Visaera saw a flash of uncertainty in it. "You lied to me, Aemond. You played me like some fucking pawn in a game to be won. I'm a person, not a fucking puzzle piece and I deserved to have my own choice in the matter!"
"You have always had your own choice, Visaera," he replied, "I merely reminded you of the man my brother has always been, and still, you nearly chose him..." Only when a tear rolled down her cheek did Visaera realize she was crying. Turning away from him she angrily flicked the tear away. "I'm sorry that I deceived you, Visaera, but I don't regret it. Aegon had been fucking women for months, whether you knew it or not, ad you deserved the truth. I did what I had to, if only to make you mine."
"Do you not understand how cruel that is, Aemond? Not only to me but to your brother, as well? Perhaps I would have married Aegon, if I hadn't known. But you purposely altered my opinion of him to suit your own agenda. Then again, perhaps I might have chosen you, had you ever actually shown a genuine interest in me. Instead, you manipulated me into doing what you wanted!"
He stepped toward her then, his eye burning, and took hold of her neck. His grip wasn't tight, but the action felt threatening enough to make Visaera swallow nervously.
"Don't play so innocent in all this, princess," he hissed, running his thumb back and forth across the edge of her jaw. "If I recall correctly, you're the one who tried to manipulate me. You came to my quarters and straddled me, rode me like a fucking horse, in fact. You used my desire for you to make deals for your brother. It's not my fault you failed to save him—" Her fist collided with his cheek, her knuckles searing with a familiar pain as she glared up at him, her chest heaving with rage. When he let out a cold chuckle, she nearly spat at him. "You still don't know how to punch, Visaera," he informed her with a mean smirk.
"I hate you!' she snarled, before storming off down the corridor, shaking the pain from her aching knuckles.
Weeks followed; Queen Rhaenyra watched with patient but worried eyes as her daughter struggled through her duties. Most days, Visaera's eyes were glazed over during council meetings and family suppers. When her health began to physically decline, dark circles becoming prominent beneath her eyes and her hair growing thin, her mother implored Daemon to speak with her.
"Visaera..." He found her on her knees in front of the Weirwood tree. It was one of the places she had tried to avoid after her vision, but now it was one of the few places she could find peace; perhaps because nobody interrupted her there. No one except for her father, that is. "You're not well..." he offered, clueless as to what else to say. He didn't have the skills to covertly extract information from his daughter. She hummed her acknowledgement, but her eyes remained closed, and Daemon wondered if she was actually praying. "Won't you tell me what's wrong? Are you not sleeping?"
"I rarely sleep..." she replied softly. "I dreamed about you, you know... Nearly every night, when I was a child. You haunted my dreams, but it wasn't until I was nearly twelve years old that I realized why. The most repetitive one was you on a beach, offering your sword in surrender... Only to tear across the sand and cut down about fifty men on your own..."
Daemon sank to his knees beside her in stunned silence. All the children knew about his victory in the Stepstones, but he had never gone into so much detail over the battle before. He had always believed her dreams were just that, dreams...
"When I came back to Dragonstone, quite suddenly, it was because of a vision. I was right here, my face pressed to this fucking tree. Don't ask me what made me do it, I had to have been half mad... The vision was fire and blood, only, not in the way our house words inspire our pride, in the way it brings terror to our enemies. Fire and blood consumed as all, every last Targaryen, even you and Mother..."
Her lips began to tremble, and tears welled in her eyes as she fought to get the words out. "I thought that if I married Aemond, I could end the discord between out houses and prevent it all from happening; I could unite the Blacks and the Greens, and we would all be stronger for it. But Lucerys still died, Grandmother still died. Alicent and Daeron and Otto are dead... I can't help but feel like it's all my fault. If I had chosen another course, perhaps I could have saved them." A sob finally poured from her lips and once the tears began to flow, they didn't stop. Daemon wrapped his arms around her and rocker her from side to side, allowing her to cry until her tears ran dry.
"I'm sorry I've been so hard on you, my love. In so many ways, you and I are alike and sometimes I forget that you're a young woman and need more than hard words... What can I do to help?"
Visaera insisted that she needed nothing, but Daemon left her in front of the tree feeling more worried than he had been before their conversation...
Supper came and went, and the sky had gone dark and Aemond had yet to see his betrothed that evening. When her rooms were found empty, he began to search for her in earnest. Daemon mentioned that he had spoken to her in the Godswood, but that had been hours before... But that was exactly where Aemond found her, hunched over on her knees and freezing to the touch.
"What is wrong with you?" he seethed, scooping her up and carrying her inside, "Are you trying to catch your death out there or cause mine?" he asked tauntingly. No answer came; no sound at all, and Aemond tilted her head back to look at her properly, for the first time since their argument in the corridor.
Her bright, silver curls had grown dull and lifeless, matching the faraway look in her eyes. He set her on her feet and leaned her against the wall, his eyebrows knitting in concern. Looking like a mere shell of a person, the princess hardly blinked.
"Vis...? Visaera?" When she made no sign that she had even heard him, Aemond gripped her around the shoulders and shook her. "Visaera, sweetheart, look at me..." Slowly, she blinked, and her gaze slid upward, her eyes finally meeting his violet one, looking grey and hollow.
"I want to go home, Aemond," she finally whimpered, "I want to be with Luke..." His gut twisted like she had stuck him with a knife.
"Visaera, listen to me, love," he said, swallowing the thick lump in his throat, "Lucerys is dead."
"Yes. Yes, I know. I'm ready..." she answered in numb whisper. "I want to be with them, Luke and Grandmother and Laenor... I'm ready." A long, terrifying silence followed as Aemond forced himself to keep it together. He picked her up again and carried her back to his quarters, jaw clenched and hands trembling. "Aemond, take care of Aegon and Helaena... They'll need you when I'm gone..." Aemond tucked her beneath the sheets and summoned the Grand Maester to give her something to make her sleep.
When she was finally breathing deep, steady breaths, Aemond closed the door and slid down the wall in the corridor and let out a choked sob. The prince hadn't cried in years, not since he had lost his eye. He hadn't even cried for the loss of his mother, but watching Visaera plead for death broke something inside of him...
Rhaenyra found Aemond slumped against the wall the next morning.
"How is she?" the Queen asked. The prince couldn't even muster a reply for her; he merely shook his head. Rhaenyra nodded and sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, her face etched with worry. When she finally entered the room to check on her daughter, an idea crept into Aemond's mind, one he didn't like one bit. Filled with resolve, the prince made his way through the keep, throwing open the door to the last place he wanted to be.
"Aegon, I need your help..."