Chapter Text
What are children, but a weakness? A folly? A futility? Through them, you imagine you cheat the great darkness of its victory. You will persist forever, in some form or another. As if they will keep you from the dust. But for them, you surrender what you should not. You may know what is the right thing to be done, but love stays the hand. Love is a downfall.
Visenya Targaryen, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen was born at dawn, just as the sun rose over Dragonstone, parting the fog of night and bathing the island in light and warmth. Rhaenyra stared at the sky over the horizon as she pushed her into the world, the clouds painted pink and gold, the wind ruffling her hair carrying the smell of the sea. She was born after a day and a night of labor, and despite the pain it seemed to her mother that the moment of her birth was one of peace and harmony.
When she lifted her up on her chest, she breathed a sigh of relief at the cry the baby made, then laughed, delighted, as she saw that it was a girl. Her first daughter after two boys, one with hair as white as the first snow of winter, and eyes as light and clear as the most precious pearl.
Circling the skies over the fortress, Syrax roared as the princess was born, and an answering roar was heard in the Dragonmont, deep within its sinuous caverns.
Aemond woke up suddenly, just before dawn that day, an oppressing and ominous feeling sitting high in his chest.
Like every morning for the last nine months, he woke up with a throbbing pain where his left eye used to be. It still caused him a great deal of pain, and the scar still was an ugly red. It wasn't unusual for him to have nightmares, but never such strange dreams. Usually he dreamt of his first night flying on Vhagar, of the dragon refusing to obey him and drowning him in the salty waters of the Narrow Sea. He dreamt of Lucerys plunging the knife into his chest, of himself hitting Jacaerys until the stone he held in his hand was tainted red with blood and the screams of Baela and Rhaena turned into wails of horror.
This time, a golden dragon had appeared to him in his sleep, with rough scales, sharps and jagged teeth. The roar of victory still echoed within his mind, and it was rattling. It had been so different from the deep and powerful bellows of Vhagar, but no less powerful or intimidating. It had been sharper too, with an edge of viciousness he had never heard from his dragon. He wondered how his mind was able to conjure such a sound.
He hadn't seen the beast in its entirety, only parts revealing themselves one by one, only making sense once he had seen them all. The atmosphere had been oppressing, smelling strongly of smoke and ashes, like the dragon pit. And as two golden eyes had met his, a deep rumbling had resonated around him before a voice interrupted the silent exchange.
Visenya, the name was spoken to him in an enchanting tone, whispered with the tenderness of a lover and the conviction of a battlefield commander.
The rumbling had intensified, making the ground and the walls of whatever place he had found himself in shake. She is your destiny, the same voice had whispered, darker this time, more insistent, almost threatening.
Shaking the dream from his mind and limbs, Aemond made his way out of his chambers and to the fields outside of the Red Keep like he did every morning. Vhagar turned as he approached, probably feeling the last remnants of his dream. She rumbled and purred as he ran his hand along her scales, and he could feel the same itch beneath their skin. Soon it would be time to take her on a longer flight than the one she usually took over the bay, to stretch her wings and let her feel the winds farther east. She was rather fond of the ocean skies, of rain and great gusts of winds that threatened to overturn ships but barely shook her. She never ventured far from him, showing him the same loyalty it seemed she had shown her previous riders.
She was a loyal beast, cantankerous at times, and barely tolerating anyone's presence but Aemond's, and on occasion his sister's, who was learning to ride Dreamfyre. Despite spending time in the soothing presence of Vhagar, Aemond couldn't seem to shake the voice from his dream and it followed him throughout the day and made sleep elusive when night fell. At his side at the dinner table, Helaena looked at him curiously, almost expectant, but he wasn't in the mood to indulge her.
The next day, they received a raven from Dragonstone. A princess was born to Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen, bearing the name Visenya.
12 years later
The Keep was bustling with energy and anticipation, servants running left and right to prepare the castle to receive a large number of guests from all over the kingdom. A celebration was underway, the biggest one in the realm since the one King Viserys had held for his son Baelon before the tragic passing of his dear wife Aemma and the babe.
After all, a royal wedding was no small affair, and it had been decided that after the tragedy that had been Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon's union, the crown could not afford to keep the wedding of Aegon and Helaena a quiet event. The whole ordeal had to be bold and loud, an event worth remembering for its grandeur and splendeur.
A week of tourneys was planned, as well as a betrothal banquet and a wedding banquet. The ceremony would be held in the throne room, in the way of the faith the Queen insisted would protect the young couple and make them fruitful. The realm had to know that the house of the dragon was still strong and proud, and that the bloodline was still as pure as it had been in the days of Aegon I and his sister-wives. They couldn't afford to forgo the Targaryen tradition of marrying close blood relatives anymore.
Daemon and Rhaenyra's union had strengthened their house more than Viserys had ever hoped. They had bonded in the old way, and now they were bound together by blood and fire. From their union had been born two children, a boy and a girl bearing the noble names of their ancestors, Visenya and Aegon.
From the instant the princess Visenya was born, she had been adored by almost all parties.
Viserys wept as she was placed into his arms for the first time, barely a year old. He smiled, tears of joy and melancholy rolling down the creases of his face as he took in her striking resemblance to her grandmother, the king's first wife, Aemma. The Queen's smile was brittle but her eyes looked sincere when she looked at Rhaenyra, exchanging a charged glance filled with memories. Memories of their youth and their friendship, memories of Aemma Targaryen.
Visenya's older brothers Jacaerys and Lucerys doted on her, smitten with her from the moment they laid eyes on her. All her smiles and coos were for them, and they spent hours on the floor playing with her, trying to make her laugh, telling her about all the things they would do together when she was older. Despite their gap in age, the trio forged a bond stronger than anyone could have anticipated. They were inseparable, playful and mischievous. Visenya fit perfectly between the two boys, leading them into adventures throughout the island.
It delighted Rhaenyra and she hoped they would remain as loving and loyal toward each other as they became adults. Rhaenyra knew how quickly love could turn to hate, and how easily a family could collapse on itself.
She could see her lady mother in Visenya. She had the same gentle nature, and the same resilience and strength. She was fearless and her imagination knew no bounds. She talked often of the day she would have a dragon for herself and would set off to explore the world.
Years later, when Aegon was born, the trio was beyond excited to add another member to their little clan, and they all doted on the boy like he was the purest miracle they had ever witnessed.
Rhaenyra's heart often clenched as she knew time would eventually steal this gleam from their eyes, as loss would follow loss, and the hardships they faced would grow in complexity and the stakes would get higher. The promise of the crown would weigh heavy on Jace's head, just as the throne of Driftmark would become a burden for Luke to bear, and her only girl, her darling daughter, would inevitably become a pawn in political games through her marriage.
For now they were only children, and she would keep them away from it all as long as she could.
It was almost midday when King's Landing appeared on the horizon, and Visenya was beyond excited at the sight.
She had only visited the capital twice, and couldn't remember anything of it, for she had been barely three years of age on their last visit. But she knew this time would be more important than a simple visit. It was a royal wedding, a happy affair but also a pivotal time for the crown and the realm. She might have been young, but her mother had made sure she was educated in the political aspects of marriage. She knew that marrying for love rarely happened, and that the harmony of her parents' marriage was an exception.
Visenya knew that one day she would have to marry for political reasons, just like Helaena and Aegon were about to.
Whenever she thought about it, it brought a strange feeling to her stomach, something akin to apprehension and excitement. Something out there was calling to her, telling her she would marry for greatness.
"You seem awfully chipper," a voice behind her commented and Visenya turned with a delighted laugh. Her father returned her enthusiasm with a fond smile of his own, the one he reserved for her.
"I'm excited to see the Red Keep again. And grandsire," she answered honestly. Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, warm but warning.
"Do you remember what I told you?"
She nodded gravely. "There are vipers in the castle. The walls have ears. Trust no one," she recited under the proud gaze of her father.
"That's right, trust no one," he repeated, his tone cold and serious, his voice speaking of experience in the matter.
"Not even Helaena?" Visenya asked.
"Helaena?" Daemon inquired.
"Helaena and I have been writing to each other. Grandsire encouraged it. He wrote to me saying it was important that we cultivate a friendship as we are relatively close in age and both lone girls among boys."
"If you feel lonely and tired of the company of your brothers, you could always go to Driftmark with Baela and Rhaena," Daemon offered.
He was the only one who really understood what a free and wild spirit she was deep inside, who understood that her childhood dreams of adventure and discovery hadn't ended when her first blood came, only intensified. She was on her way to become a woman, and instead of bringing her peace and softness like the guidance of the Mother was supposed to, a flame was growing inside of her. It was stronger every year, a fire burning bright and hot in the pit of her stomach. Her father often suggested sailing as an outlet, but they both knew it would neither settle nor satisfy her. Her calling was not the open sea, but somewhere else that was yet to be discovered.
"I enjoy our life on Dragonstone," Visenya insisted. "I belong there."
Daemon squeezed her shoulder before releasing it. He rested his elbows on the taffrail, his gloved fingers loosely intertwining. He turned his gaze back to King's Landing and the Red Keep that was coming into better view as they sailed closer to the port.
"Enjoy your friendship with Helaena if you must, but be mindful of what you say, even to her. No one is safe and word travels fast in this wretched place."
Visenya covered her father's hands with one of her own and rested her head against his shoulder, smiling softly.
"Yes, father."
Aemond found Helaena on a balcony overlooking the bay. Her hair was loose from its braids and her thick strands were dancing in the wind. He didn't announce himself as he approached, and she didn't turn as he went to stand behind her.
He admitted feeling some pity for her, as she was to marry Aegon, but she didn't seem upset by it. She hadn't reacted either way when their mother had announced the two siblings would be married, and now that the ceremony was to take place in a few days, she still seemed completely indifferent. Perhaps she had accepted her fate, or was simply focused on performing her duty. Or perhaps she was holding on to the last thread of her composure, choosing to retreat in herself and waiting for the events to pass.
No one was under the illusion that it would be a marriage of love. A male heir was all that was expected of them, and they didn't need to tolerate each other or to spend more than a few minutes at a time together to produce one. Aemond knew the opinion Aegon had of their sister, and he knew their marriage would be an absolutely loveless one, void of any honesty toward the vows they would swear to during the ceremony.
The dutiful part of him despised that aspect. He had spent the last years learning the history of their ancestors and their customs, and he knew the importance of spouses bonding, whether it be over a common devotion to their duty, or a common goal to reach. He was certain there would be no such understanding and partnership in Aegon and Helaena's marriage, and he was worried it would do more harm than everyone seemed to anticipate.
Whoever he ended up marrying, he would make sure to live out his vows and make the most of what the union could provide, whether it be wealth, armies or fleets, or political leverage and influence.
"Mother is looking for you," Aemond finally said after a minute of silence.
"Helaena—" he called again, but was interrupted as she turned toward him, the expression on her face startled and curious.
"Destiny is coming, Aemond," she said, sounding excited and sad at the same time. On the horizon, a large ship bearing the Targaryen colors was approaching.