Visenya felt an unfamiliar sense of calmness wash over her in these recent days, a soothing balm for her soul, and she couldn't quite decipher whether it was the bittersweet ache of parting with Rickon or the fluttering excitement of her mother's impending third pregnancy that brought her this solace.
Instead of soaring through the skies on her beloved dragon, Visenya opted for the carriage ride alongside Alicent. The tension crackled in the air, Rhaenyra's increasingly vexing demeanor serving as a reminder of their mother's looming delivery, a matter that weighed heavily on all their hearts.
When the carriage finally came to a halt, Rhaenyra and her majestic dragon, Syrax, approached, an image of excitement and youthful ambition. Visenya gently urged Alicent to rise, her heart racing with the awareness of her sister standing at their carriage's entrance.
"Syrax is growing at an astonishing rate. Soon, she'll rival Caraxes in size," Alicent remarked, her voice laced with wonder. Visenya nodded, her heart swelling with pride.
"Almost large enough to carry two," Rhaenyra teased, directing her words playfully toward Alicent.
"My heart longs for the grandeur of Syrax; Draco pales in comparison, barely three-quarters her size," Visenya sighed, dreamy-eyed, lost in a world of dragon dreams.
"I think I prefer my humble perspective, thank you very much," Alicent quipped gently, her eyes twinkling.
As Rhaenyra made her way into the carriage, she leaned close to Visenya, and the two sisters basked in the warmth of their bond, exchanging joyful chatter about the new life on the horizon.
Navigating through the bustling courtyard of the Red Keep and winding corridors, the trio arrived at Aemma's chambers. Visenya led the way, a surge of anticipation rushing through her as she beheld her mother, radiant and nurturing, surrounded by attentive servants.
"Ah... Visenya, Rhaenyra," Aemma breathed, her voice both weary and loving, a world of emotion hidden within those two names.
"Rhaenyra, you know how I feel about you flying while I carry this babe," Aemma expressed, her concern evident.
"You don't want me to fly at all, Mother," Rhaenyra countered, a spark of defiance in her tone.
"And can you truly blame her? It's incredibly perilous, Nyra," Visenya chimed in, her heart aching with the weight of those unsaid fears.
"Your Grace," Alicent squeaked, her voice quivering with respect.
"Good morrow, dear Alicent," Aemma smiled gently, a gleam of warmth filling the room.
"Did you sleep?" Rhaenyra pressed, concern subtly lacing her words.
"I slept," Aemma replied, though Visenya could see the shadows beneath her eyes.
"How long?" Visenya inquired, her voice soft and pleading for truth.
Rhaenyra settled herself at their mother's feet while Visenya nestled close beside Aemma, desiring nothing more than to share in her mother's strength.
"I don't need mothering, Rhaenyra, Visenya," Aemma asserted, though the love wrapped around her words was unmistakable.
"Here you are, enveloped by caregivers, all focused on the babe. Someone must care for you," Rhaenyra explained earnestly, her heart in the right place.
"This discomfort is how we serve the realm, Rhaenyra and Visenya. Soon enough, you will find yourselves in this very bed," Aemma said sadly, the truth weighing heavily on her words.
"I'd rather serve on the battlefield, seeking glory and honor," Rhaenyra declared, confidence oozing from her every syllable.
"I have faith it won't be so dreadful. I yearn for children," Visenya offered, her voice filled with tender hope.
Aemma laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the air with warmth. It was no secret that Visenya held a special place in Aemma's heart, and that bond burned bright between them, a flame unquenchable by time or circumstance.
"We possess royal wombs. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with courage," Aemma proclaimed, her voice strong like the iron of Valyria. "Now go, take a bath. You smell of dragon, and I cannot abide it."
Though it was originally intended for Visenya to serve as cupbearer at council meetings, she readily passed the role to Rhaenyra, who accepted with enthusiasm, her spirit flourishing in the prospect.
In Rhaenyra's absence, Visenya sought out Alicent, finding her lost in the pages of a book put forth by her septa. Visenya, with a spark of mischief,
"Calm down, Ali! Just blame it on me! If it's damaged, the Septa won't be as harsh because I'm the heir to the throne," Visenya exclaimed, a playful glint of pride sparkling in her eyes.
"But what if this little one is a boy?" Alicent ventured, uncertainty threading her voice.
"I'd be overjoyed! That's all my father has ever wanted—a son! I hope he gets one," Visenya declared, conviction illuminating her face as her heart danced with the idea of family legacy.
"But you would make such an incredible queen!" Alicent nearly shouted, her admiration overflowing.
"Shh! Keep your voice down," Visenya whispered, her tone a blend of reverence and wistfulness. "I wouldn't truly be queen, though. My husband would wield the power and command the respect of all."
In that intimate moment, the two girls lingered in soft conversation, their bond a treasure of pure affection and sweetness. Visenya and Alicent often spoke of their connection, each declaring the other to be their person—a sentiment so profound that others could scarcely comprehend its depth.
With a warm embrace, Visenya said her goodbyes to Alicent, feeling the warmth of their friendship envelop her as she turned to her chambers. She sought solace in the quiet, yearning for the gentle embrace of sleep to recharge her spirit.
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Blooming tragic
FanfictionVisenya was always viewed as one of the perfect and most beautiful princesses in the realm, that's were here alias came from "The realms pearl" or "The realms flower" and "The realms happiness" Otto Hightower was King Viserys hand since the fall of...
