Chapter Text
At first, Rhaenyra failed to understand why women referred to child birthing as a battlefield. She read about the battles of old as a child, much to her father’s dismay and found the idea of comparing the two situations preposterous. The understanding came later as she watched her mother’s body burn beside her dead brother. A man, if capable enough, can dodge the sword aimed at him. Women, it seems, have no other choice but to pray to the gods for mercy as they lay in their blood for the sake of a man’s pride.
The memories of her mother, long gone but never really forgotten, seems to haunt her even more now that she is lying on the bed, trying to bring her first child to this cruel world. Rhaenyra wonders if the pain would have been more bearable if Aemma had been with her. Suppose her mother's warm, loving comfort would have been the shield she needed to emerge victorious in the wake of her battle. ‘Daemon would have protected you from the pain’, a small voice whispers in her head. A silly thought. Her uncle had forsaken her, taken a new wife and left the capital. Perhaps, in another world, they would have burned together. Two dragons dancing together under the moon and the stars. In this one, Rhaenyra was left alone to burn by herself.
“It is time.” The midwife told her.
Her cry of sheer agony echoed through the chamber, reaching the ears of the people waiting on the other side of the door as she fought to push the child out of her body. She knew her father would be there. Viserys might have offered her words of comfort, but his eyes were full of fear. Rhaenyra is not the only one haunted by the past in these precarious times. The pain came and went for what felt like hours until it stopped. For a moment, there was no sound in the room other than the laboured breathing coming for her, and then the crying started. Not one voice but two.
“Twins, my lady. Both of them are healthy.” The midwife informed her.
Rhaenyra had survived the battle. The first of many she would have to face both as a woman and as an heir to the throne. Later she would find out that Laenor took Harwin out for drinks while the birth lasted, acting as the distraught husband so no one suspected of her children’s true lineage. Not that it would work, as her children might have her eyes and facial features, but they have their father’s dark hair.
Not that it matters. She looks down at her babies and smiles. Her father is already in the room, followed by princess Rhaenys. It takes her a moment to realise they are asking about the children’s names.
“Jacaerys and Visenya.” She tells her father, watching the spark of recognition light her father’s eyes, taking him back to when Aemma told him of Rhaenyra’s wish for a sister.
“Beautiful names fit for royalty,” Viserys answers kindly once he blinks the unshed tears away. He is gentle in how he wraps his arms around her exhausted form. Rhaenys offers words of praise and encouragement, but Rhaenyra is too tired to notice.
Many years later, Daemon would tell her about the letter Viserys sent him about her children. They would be lying down in bed together, talking of the past. Daemon would ask for her forgiveness for not being there for her.
∞∞∞
There is something cold around the keep that Visenya can’t wrap her finger around. Even at ten, she can tell when people look at her differently. She can hear them whispering the moment she passes them by. They call her a bastard, which she is. She might not be old enough to sit at the same table as the grownups, but she is old enough to notice that her hair is the same as Ser Harwin’s. The rest of her siblings have the same dark locks. Apart from her parents and siblings, the only person who doesn’t mistreat her is her mother’s younger sister, Helaena. The girl is three years younger than Visenya, a bit odd at first glance but full of love. So, the two struck a friendship. With time Aemond, another of her mother’s younger siblings, started joining them.
Despite the four years difference, Visenya found herself drawn to Aemond. He was quiet when surrounded by people but always carried books whenever he went. His eyes, so much like Visenya’s, sparkled with joy whenever she asked him about the topic of the book he was currently reading. Nothing was said if mother noticed her unusual behaviour and all the books she smuggled out of their rooms.
The weirwood became their favourite spot to hide from the adults. Helaena would gather bugs and mention random facts about them, Aemond would read, and Visenya would work on her embroidery. Unlike her brother, she wasn’t allowed to learn how to fight. It saddened her, but Aemond promised to teach her once he was given a chance to practice with a sword. This easy acceptance was another reason he was so dear to her.
“He is yours, and you are his,” Helaena told them. Visenya had no idea what to make of that statement, as she had no idea how two people could belong to each other.
In the end, her friend’s words were written off as just another of her odd rambles, and Visenya gifted her with a white handkerchief embroidered with tiny green spiders.
“I heard mother say that the crown princess offered to wed Visenya to Aegon as a sign of friendship.” Aemond rushed to their usual place once, an unhappy frown on his face. Visenya couldn’t help but scrunch her nose in displeasure. She didn’t want to be married to someone as unpleasant as Aegon.
Before thinking twice, she mutters quietly, “I will steal a dragon and run away.” Aemond laughs at that and offers to help her. A wonderful friend indeed.
∞∞∞
Visenya doesn’t learn about the pig incident until it is too late to do anything to prevent it. Her brothers, Jace and Lucerys, walk into their chambers laughing and full of excitement. Visenya listens to their conversation with half an ear, used to ignoring her brothers until she registers them mentioning Aemond’s name.
“The two of you did what?” there is anger in her voice that she fails to hide. Gods help her, and she loves her brothers. But she also cares about Aemond, and the idea of him suffering at the hands of her siblings makes her want to throw something at their heads. Preferably her blasted embroidery that she is forced to do.
The laughter stops. Jace and Lucerys look guilty, realising their behaviour has upset their sister. Visenya is out of the door before they can offer her their half-assed apologies. After all, she is not the wounded party, and they should be apologising to her friend. Her legs carry her to the weirwood out of pure instinct. Her silent prayers are answered when she sees the blond boy sitting with his head resting against the tree.
“Aemond!” Her voice carries in the quiet, despite her whispering his name. He looks up, and Visenya can notice the traces of tears staining his cheeks. It breaks her heart to see her friend sad, so she does the only thing she can think of – kneel next to him and wrap her hands around his shoulders in a tight hug. The boy goes stiff for a moment, then hesitantly returns the hug. “I am so sorry my brothers did this. I didn’t know. I swear I would have tried to stop them if I did.” Visenya whispers with her face buried in his hair.
They stay like this for a while, taking comfort in each other. When Visenya finally pulls away, she notices the cut on Aemond’s palm. The anger comes again, and she vows to fill her brothers’ beds with bugs in retaliation as she uses her black handkerchief to bandage the tiny wound. “Don’t listen to them. You will get a dragon at some point and show everyone that you can match even prince Daemon with your riding skills.”
The surprise can be seen plainly on Aemond’s face; perhaps he didn’t expect Visenya to react so strongly against her brother’s behaviour. “Thank you.” His voice is so low that she strains herself to hear him. “I’ll always take your side,” Visenya promises and relishes in the slight smile gracing his face. She is proud of herself for making her friend happy.
“Us against the world,” Aemond says in return, and they share another grin. They don’t speak afterwards and lie down on the ground to look at constellations, shoulders touching. By the time they leave for their respective rooms, it’s dawn.
∞∞∞
Their time away from the capital weighs heavily on Visenya. She is with her family, yet her thoughts always travel to her friends. More specifically, to Aemond. She misses him the way a person would miss an amputated limb. Whenever she learns something new or exciting, she longs to share the knowledge with him. But he is not with her, so her life goes on.
When Visenya sees her friends again, the situation is less than joyful. In a relatively short time, she has learned not only of her aunt’s death but also that her father is gone. Ser Harwin Strong had died in a fire with his father. Aemond looks at her face once during her aunt’s funeral before offering her hand a brief squeeze. He knows of the rumours, just like everyone else, but this is the first time he acknowledges the truth of her parentage.
They meet in a secluded corner while people are giving speeches. “I am sorry you are not allowed to grieve. It is not fair.” Aemond tells her quietly as he offers her a hug. Visenya can’t help but notice that he has grown as tall as her, which allows her to comfortably hide her face in his chest as he rubs her back. It brings her comfort. Had Visenya known this would be the last time she saw her friend for years, she would have held onto him longer. Unfortunately, unlike Helaena, she was no dreamer.
Perhaps her grief for a father she never knew left her blind to what was happening until it was too late. Maybe she would have been able to protect Aemond. Perhaps he would have kept his eye. The regret would never leave her for years, despite his assurance of her lack of guilt. As things stood at the present, Visenya was trying to get up from where her brother had pushed her once the fight between all of them broke out.
Aemond had sneaked out and gained her aunt’s dragon. Visenya isn’t upset by the development, it is the dragon that chooses the rider and not the other way around, and her cousins are furious. Jace and Lucerys side with the other two girls. Visenya, as always, tries to stand between her brothers and Aemond, earning herself a rather harsh jab in the ribs that leaves her on the ground, breathless. This seems to anger Aemond even more, and the fight turns vicious.
“No!” Visenya manages to scream seconds before Lucerys draws a dagger and goes for her friend’s eye. She drags herself to where Aemond is lying down and cushions his head in her lap while screaming for help, hoping the adults will hear her. There is fear in his good eye, she can tell as she has spent many, many hours looking at their purple depths as they spoke about history and stars. At some point, she is yanked away by maesters and the boy in her lap is moved away. Visenya is told to stay in her room by grandmother Rhaenys. When her brothers finally return, her mother is with them, and her arm is bleeding. No one says a word.
The following day she tries to ask after Aemond but is hushed away by her mother. The adults discuss essential matters. If Visenya was a good daughter, she might have obeyed. But the blood of the dragon is restless within her, so she sneaks back to the door and listens to the grownups talk. What she learns of makes her blood cold. At first, she thinks they are playing a trick on her, aware that she is listening. But when the supposed corpse of her father turns up, Visenya knows the plans she heard of were not a mere joke.
It breaks her heart to see her grandparents grieve for a son that is alive. Mother tells them they will leave for Dragonstone in the evening with prince Daemon. Before she can talk herself out of it, Visenya goes to see her grandmother. Both Rhaenys and Corlys look as if they have aged years in the span of just weeks.
“Visenya.” Her grandfather says as he hugs her, but she can tell his heart is not in it. She can’t blame him. Both of his children died, and he will be forced to leave his title to his daughter-in-law’s bastards.
“There is something I need to tell you. Both of you.” And before she can regret her choice and run away, Visenya explains in hushed whispers about what her parents and prince Daemon did. By the time she is finished with her story, she can see anger and resignation written all over the faces of her grandparents. But above all, she can see the light coming back to grandma’s eyes. “I understand how this might be difficult for you. I know we are not related, but you always treated me and might brothers fairly. While I understand that father had his reason to leave, I couldn’t let you suffer or blame our mother for his choices.”
Grandpa gives her a once over, almost as if sizing her up. For a second, Visenya is worried that she might have said the wrong thing, but he smiles in the end. “You would make a fine dragon. There is bravery in you, little one. That’s something you get from your grandmother.”
Before they separate ways, Rhaenys hugs her tightly. For the first time in years, her grandma’s affection feels genuine.
It is not enough to fill the emptiness Visenya feels in the absence of Aemond, her dear friend.