Veil of Shadows | Aemond Targaryen

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As Visenya walked back to her chambers, accompanied by Ser Emory, their footsteps echoed against the stone floor of the Red Keep, creating a steady, rhythmic backdrop to her racing thoughts. The clinking of Ser Emory's armor was a constant reminder of the world outside her mind, a world filled with political schemes and personal betrayals. She was still processing the emotionally charged conversation with Helaena, trying to make sense of the conflicting feelings that had surfaced.

Helaena's words had struck a chord deep within her, stirring memories and emotions that Visenya had long tried to bury. She had always admired Helaena's gentle wisdom, her ability to see through the layers of pretense and reach the heart of the matter. Today, though, Helaena had pierced through the barriers Visenya had carefully constructed around her heart, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

Visenya's mind replayed Helaena's words over and over, each recurrence peeling back another layer of her emotional armor. She had to remind herself of the reasons she endured this life, of the stakes involved in the dangerous game she was playing. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she felt the weight of her choices pressing down on her, threatening to crush her under their immense burden.

The corridors of the Red Keep were dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows that danced on the walls. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of stone and aged wood, mingling with the distant sounds of the castle's daily life. Servants hurried past, their eyes downcast, unwilling to meet her gaze. Guards stood at attention, their faces impassive, as if carved from the very stone they protected.

As they approached a bend in the corridor, the murmur of voices reached her ears. Visenya's heart sank as she recognized the laughter, the disdainful tone. Around the corner, Tyshara and Cerelle Lannister stood, the daughters of Jason Lannister, their faces lit with amusement as they whispered to each other. Visenya could sense the malice in their glances, the way they reveled in her perceived discomfort.

She had known the Lannister sisters since they were children, their visits to King's Landing were always marked by their father's presence on the council. Tyshara, with her sharp tongue and insidious charm, had always been a thorn in Visenya's side. Cerelle, though quieter, shared her sister's penchant for cruelty and manipulation.

As Visenya and Ser Emory drew nearer, Tyshara's eyes were full of malice, her lips twisted into a sneer that Visenya had come to loathe over the years. Cerelle, though less openly hostile, mirrored her sister's disdain with a cool, appraising look.

She knew it wasn't wise to engage with them, especially in such a public setting, but the thought of being disrespected by these traitors was intolerable. The sight of them, their mocking smiles and whispered taunts, ignited a fire within Visenya. She felt the anger rise, hot and insistent, threatening to spill over.

No one else was around except Ser Emory, and she realized with a grim sense of satisfaction that this might be her chance to put them, especially Tyshara in their place.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face them, her eyes blazing with a mix of defiance and disdain. "Well, well, Tyshara," she began, her voice laced with biting sarcasm. "I see you've found a new pastime—talking about me. It must be a refreshing change from your usual hobby of spreading your legs."

Visenya's words hung in the air, sharp and cutting. She took a step closer, her gaze never wavering, locking onto Tyshara's. "Is this how you pass the time now?" she continued, her tone dripping with disdain. "Gossiping in the shadows like a common wench, hoping to elevate yourself by tearing down others? How utterly pathetic."

Tyshara's face reddened, her initial shock giving way to rage. She opened her mouth to retort, but Visenya was relentless. "I suppose it's fitting," she added, her voice dropping to a low, menacing whisper. "After all, what else could one expect from a Lannister who bends the knee to usurpers? Your family has always known how to grovel, haven't they?"