What happens when Rhaenyra and Daemon's night in the brothel turned out to be more than what the princess admitted to? What happens when a child is conceived that night? What happens when that child is a girl, born the perfect image of a Targaryen p...
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Visaera Velaryon woke on her twelfth nameday feeling more excited than she had in a long while. While her abdomen was aching some, the visions had let her be and allowed her a full night's sleep. Her mood was brighter than it had been in weeks, especially when she remembered that there was a banquet celebration being set up for her. Aemond's nameday celebration, only two moons after hers, would be far grander; a tourney and feast to be held for the king's son. Still, a banquet meant music and dancing; a chance for her to have some fun.
It seemed, however, that the Gods had other plans; they loved to bless and curse Visaera in the same breath. The moment she rose from bed to prepare for the day, a sharp pain coursed through her, low in her belly. Nearly doubled over in pain, the princess looked down and realized that her red flower had begun to bloom; staining her sheets and leaving an ache inside her that would linger for days. Never quite sure of when it was going to happen, Rhaenyra had done her best to prepare her daughter for the day she finally bled. By the time word reached her mother, Visaera was already neck-deep in a scalding bath, watching as the maids hauled her spotted sheets and blankets away for cleaning.
"By all rights, you're a woman now," Rhaenyra told her softly. Visaera snorted derisively. She didn't feel like a woman.
The reflection in the mirror didn't look like a woman. She looked paler, perhaps, but nowhere near grown. Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter. "My mother once told me that she and I had royal wombs; that it was our duty to provide heirs. This is far truer for you and I now than it was for her. I am heir to the Iron Throne, as you will be after me. If you don't have children, the crown would eventually fall to Jace." In all honesty, Visaera didn't think that was such a bad thing, but she didn't dare voice the notion to her mother.
Rhaenyra had pushed for so long to be considered equal to men; to prove herself worthy to be the heir to the throne. If Visaera told her she didn't want the same things, she didn't know how her mother would react.
Despite the fact that it was her nameday, Visaera did not feel like celebrating. She knew that people had been arriving all morning for the banquet; she didn't care. With a cloth pressed between her legs, inside her small clothes, and an ache that refused to subside, she sequestered herself in the gardens, effectively hidden by a large hedge.
"I know you're out here, little doe!" Aegon called out in a sing-song tone. She softened at the sound of his voice, noticing that he had used the nickname his father so often did. "Found you!" he whispered suddenly, from directly behind her. A startled shriek fell from her lips as he playfully tackled her, tickling her ribs. When a giggle finally spilled from her mouth, Aegon released her and sat down. "Why are you hiding, little niece?"
"I don't want to see anyone," she huffed, tossing one of the little sticks she had broken into tiny pieces, "I want to go back to bed."
"What's wrong?" She opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again; her skin flushing. How could she ever tell him something so embarrassing? Instead, she stared at her lap and began to pick at her nailbeds. Aegon gripped her hand, halting her painful fidgeting. "What is it? Tell me, Vis. You know you can tell me anything..." The look in his eyes reflected the earnestness of his words and Visaera sighed.
