Two moons had passed overhead since Queen Aemma's death and Prince Daemon's exile, and while House Targaryen mourned their losses, life continued for the rest of the world. The Lords of the realm watched from their seats anxiously awaiting for the King to take a second wife, and produce a male heir. Some Lords attempted to place their own daughters and female relatives before the King, hoping one might catch his eye.
Though the King continued to call on Camilla. Spending time in the young woman's presence filled a void left in Viserys by his beloved Aemma's death. In her company he could almost imagine Aemma in her youth, pretending his wife was still with him.
Sometimes the time passed with flowing conversation, and others they merely remained quiet each focusing on their own activity. Viserys would pour over the histories, drawing up plans for another model to show the stonemasters, while Camilla sat on a nearby chair, either curled up with a novel or embroidering.
Today Viserys was attempting to sketch out the plans for a topless tower said to have decorated the horizon of Old Valyria, yet he seemed unable to draw it correctly. Viserys leaned back in his seat in frustration, a groan on his lips. Deciding he needed a moment of reprieve, Viserys looked to his companion.
Camilla's attention was completely immersed by the hoop and cloth in her hands. Shades of red and black decorated the piece of fabric, painting an image.
Viserys opened his mouth to speak, intending to ask questions about her craft. A slight movement over her shoulder caught his attention. Viserys' blood ran cold at the sight in front of him.
There was Aemma, his love. She stood in the sheer shift he had seen her in last, her once swollen stomach was now deflated with no babe to protect. Red stained her lower half as blood continued to pour down her legs, splattering against the floor. Her mouth stretched open in a silent scream, and though no sound poured from her lips, Viserys swore he could still hear her cries of pain.
The King tore his eyes away from his wife's ghost, turning back to the sheet of parchment he had abandoned. He tried to return his attention to his prior task, hoping it might offer him some comfort. He lifted a hand wiping at the sweat beginning to bead along his hairline.
"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Camilla's calm voice called, causing Viserys to almost jump out of his skin.
Out of the corner of his eye, Viserys glanced at Camilla, fearful his dead wife would still be looming over the young woman. When the space behind Camilla remained empty, Viserys turned, his shoulder's relaxing.
"I'm fine, just a little tired." Viserys answered, rubbing his eyes so hard black dots filled his vision.
"Shall I leave you, Your Grace? Perhaps I might call on Rhaenyra and see how she is faring."
"That would be kind of you. Thank you, Camilla." The King couldn't bring himself to look in her direction, fearful he would see the bloodied ghost of his wife. He listened as Camilla gathered her things and left his chambers, leaving him alone with his guilt.
★・・・・・・★
Camilla's quarters had once been filled with light and warmth. Flames had danced on the wicks of candles scattered around the room, chasing away the shadows cast by the fire burning in her hearth. And while it had never been spotless, it had been neat. Offering a lived in feel, pieces of Camilla and her love decorated the room. From the Dragon tapestry hanging over her bed, to the sketches of those dear to her stuck to the walls. Every inch of her room was covered, tainted by the Rogue Prince and his affections he had held for her.
Though now Camilla refused to light any candles, the only light came from the sun streaming through her windows. And when the sun set her rooms were covered in darkness. She had attempted to remove any trace of Daemon. One night in the hour of the owl, Camilla had ripped the tapestry off the wall. She had thought to throw it out her window, but hadn't wished to inconvenience anyone. Next she had turned to the empty hearth, wishing to burn the gift, watch it be destroyed before her eyes. But Camilla had no idea how to light a fire, she didn't know how to create flame from nothing and once again she didn't want to bother anyone. So Camilla did the only thing she could think of, she stuffed the tapestry under her bed to collect dust and be forgotten.
At least that was what she had intended, in truth she pulled the tapestry out almost every night. Tightly wrapping herself in the rough fabric as if it was her love's arms. Camilla slept like that and in the mornings she once again hid away the memories, attempting to forget about them. Forgot about him.
Another night, guards had entered her room, thinking she was being attacked. What they found was a weeping woman, attempting to move her wardrobe. Pitying the ward, believing her to still be mourning her aunt, the guards offered their assistance. Carrying the wardrobe across the room, placing it in front of an empty panel.
Rumors of the young Tully's grief passed through the Red Keep, slipping from the lips of nobles and servants alike. Whispers of her going mad filled the halls, looming over her and threatening to crush her. Her chambers became her safe haven, but also her self imposed prison. Camilla only left the four walls if the King called on her, or Alicent and Rhaenyra dragged her out.
Camilla took to staring at herself in the mirror. While she had not changed in the eyes of others, she could barely recognize herself. Her face had grown gaunt, her eyes were sad and hollow and her skin was as white as porcelain. She had lost weight following her inability to eat. Her dresses were laced as tight as possible yet they still hung loose on her frame. Loose everywhere except her midsection.
There the fabric held snug to the top of her stomach, though luckily her preference for flowing skirts hid the majority of her abdomen. The flesh had begun slightly protruding, barely visible when viewed from the side. Camilla's hand grazed over her bloated belly. She had ignored her missing bleeds, wanting to believe it was due to her grief. But as the days went by, Camilla could no longer deny the truth.
Daemon's child grew in her womb.
★・・・・・・★
Following her acceptance, Camilla had broken down. Cursing the Mother and her own stupidity, insults and cries fell from her lips. Blame was cast on the Mother Above though it landed on Camilla. When she ran out of vitriol, Camilla began praying to the Crone. Begging for guidance, for a sign of what to do. She promised if given the chance she would not waste it, any solution would do at this point.
Camilla had just begun pondering praying to the Stranger to take her when a knock sounded through the room. She froze, slowly turning to face the door. Had the Crone taken pity on her and given her an answer.
"My lady," a young maid spoke. "The King has invited you to join him for a midday meal tomorrow."
Camilla merely nodded, not trusting her voice. The Crone had answered her, this was the solution, the only option she had. Camilla placed a hand on her stomach, she made a vow then and there that no matter what happened her babe would be raised in the faith. He or she would grow to follow the Faith of the Seven.
That is how Camilla found herself sitting across from the King. A silence filled the room only broken by the sound of silverware on china. Camilla tried to think of what to say, what to do, should she tell him of her predicament. He seemed kind enough, perhaps he might help her.
"The Small Council is urging me to remarry." The King finally spoke, though his gaze remained locked on his plate. "It seems the realm wants for a new queen."
"A good and kind queen will give comfort to your subjects." The King finally looked at his companion. "Does the Small Council have a particular lady in mind?"
"Lord Corlys Velaryon has offered the hand of his daughter, the Lady Laena."
"It would be a very strong match, Your Grace." Camilla's stomach turned at the suggestion. Lady Laena was only twelve for Seven's sake, she was a child who hadn't even hadn't yet flowered.
"I must admit, I don't know Laena very well."
"I'm sure that she is good and kind, and that she will enjoy your company, as I have, Your Grace." Wanting to change the conversation, she turned to the small box she had brought with her. "I brought you something."
Surprise washed over the King's face as Camilla passed the small box to him. He slowly opened it, before looking back at Camilla. A Handkerchief rested in Viserys' hand. Embroidered on the piece of fabric was a fierce black dragon breathing flames of red and gold.
"You had asked me what I was working on," Camilla watched the King's eyes, searching for any sign he hated it. "It is meant to be Balerion, but I have never embroidered a dragon before."
"It is perfect." Viserys whispered, smiling at the young woman. "This is a very kind gesture, Camilla. Very Kind."
"Your Grace, I wished to-"
A loud knock interrupted Camilla, the words freezing on her tongue. Viserys straightened his clothes and posture, gone was the man Camilla had been speaking to in his place was the King of the Seven Realms. "Come."
"The Hand, Your Grace." One of the King's Guard announced.
"Your Grace, I've called the Small Council to an emergency session." The Hand spoke from behind Camilla.
"Why?"
"I think it best you hear it directly."
"Very well. I apologize, Camilla, but it seems I am needed elsewhere." The King stood from the table and left the room with Ser Otto following close behind.
Camilla was left alone in the King's chambers, she was both upset and relieved that she had not been able to tell the King her secret. She was fearful of what would happen if anyone knew.
★・・・・・・★
Rhaenyra had barged into Camilla's room, looking for her cousin. Alicent was busy saying goodbye to her father, unable to help calm Rhaenyra's temper at the moment. Camilla had been reading a novel on the old kings of the vale, the topic reminding her of her Kind Aunt. However she jumped to her feet at Rhaenyra's entrance, meeting her cousin in the middle of the room.
"What is the matter, Rhaenyra?" Camilla asked, grasping her cousin's hands. "Has something happened?"
"Daemon stole Baelon's egg!" The Princess seethed, anger rolling off of her in waves.
"What use could Daemon have for an egg?" She did not know why she asked, deep inside she already knew the answer. Camilla dropped Rhaenyra's hands, pressing her hands against her stomach as the Princess began to pace.
"He means to marry his whore, he says they are expecting a child." Rhaenyra exclaimed, throwing her arms out.
The Princess was too busy voicing her anger to realize her friend was spiraling. Camilla didn't want to believe it. Daemon was going to marry a common born woman, He was ignoring his lawful wife for a whore. Was Camilla not good enough for him? Why hadn't he taken her to Dragonstone? She was already carrying his child, for Seven's sake, the least he could do was marry her!
"And Otto Hightower has gone to retrieve the egg." A cruel laugh spilled from Rhaenyra's lips dragging Camilla from her thoughts. "If I were born a man my father would have sent me. I am heir yet he doesn't trust me to do anything. How am I meant to rule the realm if my thoughts are of such little consequence."
"I do not know, Rhaenyra. It is not as if your father would allow you to fly to Dragonstone." Camilla spoke, not realizing Rhaenyra's eyes had lit up.
"This is why you are my favorite cousin," Rhaenyra squeezed Camilla tightly before turning to leave.
"Rhaenyra! That isn't what I-" Her door slamming interrupted Camilla's pleas. Her attempts to reason with the Princess had come too late as she had already fled the room, no doubt already calling for a carriage to take her to the Dragonpit.
Once again Camilla was utterly alone. She felt as if she was a lone island in the middle of a great sea, occasionally ships would pass by and dragons would fly overhead. But none stopped and stayed, too busy with their journeys to pay her any mind.
★・・・・・・★
Camilla had been awoken the following morning by a servant. Her presence had been requested in the Small Council's meeting room. Camilla couldn't help as a pit formed in her stomach, she had never been inside the room and had never thought she would set foot inside. She had been happy to pass by the room with no clue as to what was happening inside.
And now there she was attempting to make herself as small as possible as the Lords of the Small Council entered the room. It had been only her and the King alone in the room. Camilla had wanted to ask him why she was there, to demand answers, but he had ignored her. Passing the time by staring out the large window behind his seat at the head of the table.
Rhaenyra followed the men into meeting chambers, a look of surprise clear on her face at seeing her cousin there. Camilla shrugged her shoulders, mouthing the words 'I don't know' to the Princess. She hoped Rhaenyra would understand that Camilla was just as confused as her.
"Good Morrow my lords," Viserys greeted the men of his court as he turned from the window. "I have decided to take a new wife."
Camilla felt sick as realization dawned on her. Was that why she was here? But how could he wed her, he had never asked her for her hand. Never spoke of such a thing. Though maybe this was the Crone guiding her to her salvation, perhaps she would be safe.
"I intend to marry," Viserys eyes turned to Camilla, staring at the young girl. Though Camilla didn't meet her gaze, she remained locked in on the Princess. Rhaenyra's face had fallen slightly as she put the pieces together. "The Lady Camilla Tully before the new moon."
Lord Corlys stood from his seat, anger clearly written on his face. "This is an absurdity. My house is Valyrian, the greatest power in the realm."
"And I am your King." The room was tense as Lord Corlys glared daggers at Camilla, making her wish the floor would swallow her. Realizing he had lost, the Lord of Driftmark stormed from the room.
Camilla felt as if the world was collapsing around her as Rhaenyra looked at her, betrayal clear on her face. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe the Seven had actually forsaken her.
"Rhaenyra." Viserys called to his only child, reaching a hand out for her to take only for the Princess to spurn the King and turn from him, quickly exiting the room.
★・・・・・・★
Lord Corlys had fled King's Landing in his anger, returning to Driftmark with his family. There he began to stew in his embarrassment and resentment. For the second time House Targaryen had passed over a member of his House. First his wife had not been chosen as King Jaehaerys' heir and now the imbecile that had stolen Rhaenys' birthright had spurned them again. Instead of choosing Lord Corlys' young daughter as his new queen, Viserys had picked his dead wife's ward. A girl who wasn't even wanted by her own family.
So Lord Corlys did the only thing he could think of, he planned for war.
Prince Daemon had been fairly easy to convince to make the short journey from Dragonstone to Driftmark. He too held an anger for the King after being exiled.
"House Velaryon's origins reach back to Old Valyria. More ancient even than House Targaryen according to some texts." Lod Corlys complained over the rim of his cup, sipping at his wine. "But unlike the Targaryens, we were no dragonlords. For centuries, my house had to scratch out an existence from the sea with grit and luck. When I ascended the Driftwood Throne, I knew what I wanted. So I went out and seized it. Unlike every other lord of the realm, I can say that I built my house's high seat with the strength of mine own back. I've always thought of you and I as having been made from the same cloth."
"I wasn't aware you had a king for a brother." Prince Daemon responded, bored of the conversation.
"Were both men who have had to cut our own way through the world. We've been passed over too often."
"Did you call me to Driftmark to remind me of my low standing, Lord Corlys, or was there some other reason?"
"You've heard of the troubles in the Stepstones?"
"Some Myrish Prince feeding Westerosi sailors to the crabs." Daemon gazed into the flames, wishing he had not left Dragonstone for this.
"I have been petitioning the King to send my navy into the territory, but he's denied me."
"And that is what angers you enough to conspire to commit treason? Or is there something else?" Daemon stared at the man sat before him, waiting for him to speak the truth.
"It does not concern you."
"You are asking me to start a war, I will not fly into battle without the whole of it." When Lord Corlys made no move to speak, Daemon prompted him further. "Speak now or I will return to Dragonstone."
"The King passed over my daughter as his new wife." Lord Corlys seethed.
"You are angry my brother wouldn't take a child to wed." Daemon smirked, finding the situation funny. "And do tell what boring lady my brother chose instead."
"The Lady Camilla Tully."
Daemon saw red at the thought of his shadow being forced into his brother's bed. His blood boiled as he worried for her, Viserys didn't know how to please her. He wouldn't know what to do to elicit Camilla's squeals of pleasure. Then Daemon thought of her heavy with his brother's child. If Viserys had not chosen Aemma on the birthing bed when he claimed to love her, how would he treat Camilla.
Perhaps he could sneak into the Red Keep and steal her away. Take her to Dragonstone and wed her as he should have done before. He had thought of it enough times. Daemon was sure Camilla would follow him anywhere, ever his loyal shadow.
AN: Wow, can you believe Cami's preggers? Don't they teach them to wrap it before you tap it?
Lol. In all seriousness tho, what'd you think? I debated making her pregnant or not but then I decided to make her pay for having premarital sex.
-ELE