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 leaned over the edge of the ship and vomited for the third time over the course of her trip. She was desperate for land and relief filled her when the harbor finally came into clear view. The letter, while stamped with the King's seal, had in fact been from the Queen, requesting Visaera's presence at court. No reasons were given, the scroll merely conveyed the desire that she visit with her family.
Rhaenyra was not happy with the idea, nor the fact that the Queen was using her husband's seal, but as it was a formal request, they could not decline. The princess had begged and pleaded with her mother to go with her to King's Landing, but Rhaenyra would not leave Dragonstone during the early months of her pregnancy.
And so, Visaera sailed with Alarya to King's landing, feeling anxious and vulnerable. The thrumming sound she had grown so accustomed to had disappeared and a cold silence was left behind.
"Beautiful day, is it not, princess?" Visaera hummed in agreement. Alarya's words couldn't have been truer. It was the King's Landing that Visaera remembered from all those years ago. The Red Keep stood in stark contrast to the vivid blue sky, and not a cloud could be seen. Her nerves were getting the better of her and Visaera had begun to pick absentmindedly at her nails, a habit she had long since abandoned. At last, the ship docked, and Visaera had never been more grateful for the feeling of the ground beneath her feet.
The carriage ride through King's Landing was surreal. Part of her couldn't believe she was back, another part didn't want to be, and the last part felt as though she had never left. Visaera was both disappointed and pleased when she was only greeted by a single figure, Ser Criston, who looked as though he had seen a ghost the moment she stepped out of the carriage.
"Princess, welcome home."
"Thank you, Ser Criston," she replied.
"I have been ordered to escort you to your rooms, where you are to wait for the Queen," he informed her. She nodded and followed him into the keep, leaving Alarya behind to help with her belongings.
"Do you know why I've been asked back to the capital, Ser Criston?" she asked.
"I'm afraid I don't, princess. I'm not privy to such information." She narrowed her eyes at his blatant lie, knowing damn well that Ser Criston followed the Queen more than her own shadow. "A guard will be assigned to you tonight, and he will stay with you for the duration of your stay in the keep." With that, he closed the door to her rooms and left her alone.
Visaera glanced around, unable to believe it had been nearly three years since she had last stepped foot in her quarters, and nearly six since she had last slept in her bed. It was if time stood still while she had been on Dragonstone. The room seemed to have remained completely untouched, and yet, there was not a speck of dust to be found on any surface.
Visaera refused to remain imprisoned in her rooms and at the Queen's beck and call. She was heir to the throne and would move about the keep as she wished. As she had so many times before, Visaera wandered about, eventually finding her grandfather perched on the bailey of the outer yard.
