Veil of Shadows | Aemond Targaryen

༺ 9 ༻

As the minutes stretched into hours since Dowager Queen Alicent departed, Visenya found herself in a state of shock, her mind swirling with a turmoil of conflicting emotions. She sat motionless in her chamber, her gaze fixed blankly upon the wall before her, seemingly lost in a trance-like state.

Thoughts raced through her mind like frantic whispers, each one vying for her attention in the midst of the chaos. She couldn't shake the weight of what had transpired, the weight of her grandfather's passing and the sudden upheaval of the realm's power dynamics.

Nervously, she began to pick at her nails, a futile attempt to ground herself amidst the whirlwind of uncertainty that engulfed her. The rhythmic motion provided a fleeting sense of distraction, a brief respite from the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume her.

Time seemed to blur as she sat there, lost in her thoughts, the minutes bleeding into one another in a haze of confusion and disbelief. She longed for clarity, for some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos that had descended upon her world.

In the stillness of her chamber, surrounded by the weight of her thoughts and the gravity of the situation unfolding around her, Visenya couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that washed over her. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in what felt like ages, a sensation reminiscent of her childhood when the world seemed vast and unfathomable, and she was but a helpless little girl caught in its tumultuous embrace.

For the first time in years, she felt the familiar tendrils of uncertainty creeping into her consciousness, wrapping around her like a suffocating embrace. In that moment, she was transported back to a time when she didn't know the intricacies of court politics or the complexities of royal succession – a time when she was simply a naive child struggling to make sense of the world around her.

As she sat there, grappling with the enormity of the decisions that lay before her, Visenya couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the simplicity of her youth. Back then, her biggest worries had revolved around childish games and petty rivalries, far removed from the weighty responsibilities and treacherous schemes of the court.

But now, as she found herself thrust into the midst of a deadly game of power and intrigue, she yearned for the innocence of those bygone days. She longed for the comfort of her mother's embrace, and the safety of Dragonstone, where the troubles of the world felt distant and inconsequential.

Visenya grappled with the weight of betrayal and disappointment that weighed heavily upon her. It wasn't just her mother's birthright that had been stripped away; her own inheritance, as the firstborn daughter, had been callously disregarded as well.

The announcement at the trial of Driftmark, where her brother's betrothal to her half-sister Baela was announced, felt like a dagger to her heart, a stark indication that her rightful place in the line of succession had been usurped.

Despite her mother's silence on the matter, Visenya couldn't ignore the unspoken truth that hung between them like a heavy shroud. The look in Rhaenyra's eyes when confronted with the reality of the situation spoke volumes, a silent admission of the painful reality they faced.

As the firstborn daughter, Visenya had always harbored dreams of carrying on the proud tradition of House Targaryen, of ruling with the same strength and grace as her forebears. But those dreams now lay shattered at her feet, trampled underfoot by the ambitions of others who sought to rewrite the course of history for their own gain.

Visenya grappled with conflicting emotions as she wrestled with the realization that, deep down, a small part of her felt a sense of satisfaction at the turn of events that had seen her mother's birthright taken from her. It was a twisted echo of the resentment she had harbored for so long, a fleeting moment of vindication in the face of her own perceived injustices.