Scourged Dragons | Aemond Targaryen & Visenya Velaryon Fanfic

Chapter 11. Lady Tarre

"How are you feeling, your grace?" Rila Tarre asked as she approached a shirtless King Viserys who was laying on his stomach. She was a tall, bony woman with golden brown hair, and sharp eyes.

She had been the owner of Enchanted Wonders for the past seven years, and wanted her establishment to be solely focused on holistic healing practices and using her gifts for good. But as word spread about her gifts of foresight, manipulation, mind control and herbal tonics, people began to call her a witch. A name she loathed and a name that scared away customers.

She almost had to close her door for good when women like Alys Rivers, who were born with similar powers but had no one to guide them on how to control their powers, came to her for help. Rila had a big heart. So she took this women under her guidance, and in return (without being asked) they opened their legs for coin. Rila was disgusted and outraged at first. But what else could she do? She had two sons to feed and clothe. She accepted that her dream of making an honest living for herself was just that - a dream. And though she never took part in the prostitution, she began to fall back into her dark magic when the coin bag was heavy enough. Her focus and heart was always in the right place - to give her two sons the best life she could. She did not want riches nor power. She just wanted comfort. She didn't want to worry about where the next meal would come from.

Across the bed sat an anxious looking Dameon and Rhaenyra.

"The paste is still keeping the skin lesions at bay, but the pain is getting worse," Viserys mumbled.

Rila pulled back his dressings and examined the oozing, decaying skin lesions. Her medicated paste was doing its job at keeping them from spreading fast. If they left him to the the Queen, the Hand and the maesters, who wouldn't even consider her recommendations because she was a woman and a 'witch', Viserys wouldn't be able to walk. But it was no use, the king was dying. And soon her special paste would be of no use to him.

Rila was sought out a year and a half ago by Daemon and Rhaenyra. In his letters, Viserys was confiding to his brother of his worsening health. Not trusting the Hightowers, the couple went in search of other methods of treatment for his brother, and their search lead them to Rila's door step. She was reluctant to try to treat the king - the risks were too great, and she could risk anything happening to her boys. She did, and once every two weeks she was snuck into the Red Keep by those who were still loyal to Daemon and Rhaenyra that still worked in the castle. Rila would then write updates to the couple on Dragonstone who would send her money in exchange for her services.

It was an odd friendship built through ravens, ink and parchment between Rhaenyra and Rila. But it was a friendship nonetheless.

Rila looked over to Rhaenyra with a sympathetic look. "I am sorry your highness," she said back to Viserys. "The only thing that is stronger than my tonics is Milk of the Poppy."

Viserys groaned, "I hate the dreams it gives me and how how incapacitated it makes me."

"Try having small doses through out the day, and do not indulge in too much wine at the tourney," Rila replied applying the paste to the wounds.

"Will you be attending?" Rhaenyra asked.

"Yes, my boys love tourneys. They have been talking about it for the past few moons."

"Arkan and Tristrum, correct?"

"Yes, my Princess."

"How old?" Daemon asked, not really interested, but trying to make small talk.

"Arkan is seven and Tristrum five, Prince Daemon." No one asked about the boy's father.

Rila took the same path she always did. When she was passing the east gardens she heard a woman laughing, and ... barking? Still keeping to the shadows, she peered around the corner and spied Princess Visenya and Lord Cregan Stark playing with a full grown dire wolf.