The Red Viper and Dragon Princess Edit

Chapter Twenty-Two

Hey, if you skipped to this chapter, you might want to go back and read the one before this one. This is the second chapter of a triple post.

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Chapter Twenty-Two: Middle 299 AC, Riverrun

The Loss of a Great Man

After Roose was taken care of, Visenya headed into Riverrun wanting to speak with Hoster before she left. She could remember the last time they had spent time together. It was before the Tourney at Harrenhal, she had been visiting after Catelyn had become one of her ladies-in-waiting. Hoster had taken to her and treated her as though she was one of his own daughters. He was the one she had confessed her fears to about marrying her brother and it was with his help that the lie over her being barren was able to succeed. He had risked death and dishonor to save her life. She had grown to love him like a father, and she felt no shame for that.

Aerys had not been a good father at the end.

When she was a child, Visenya could remember running through the halls of the Red Keep with Rhaegar chasing her. Aerys would pop out from behind pillars or walls, sweep her into his arms and promise to protect her from all harm. Those early years, Aerys had loved them, Visenya knew that. She didn't know what caused him to chance but as she had grown older, those hugs and smiles had vanished as smirks, frowns and vile words had taken their place. She had never feared him, not truly, she was his only daughter. But even Visenya knew that Aerys was not right.

Meeting Hoster, being around him, made her realized what a true father should be. Not to mention how Oberyn had been with his daughters, she thought to herself. Both men had showed her what fathers were meant to be. It was Oberyn's behavior with his daughters, that had made Visenya fall in love with him. If he could dot on his girls, baseborn they may have been, then he would be a good father.

Now she walked the busy halls, people were trying to figure out their next move after the revelations of the night before. The line of succession was now threatened. The King in the North was no longer wed, nor was his bloodline secure with a child like all had thought. It was dangerous grounds. Yes, Bran could be Robb's heir until the boy wed and bed another, but it was now a matter of trust. Who could Robb trust to be his wife, Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North, Protector of the First Men? Visenya knew it would take careful deliberation before Robb would be wed a second time.

It was a matter of trust.

She passed Theon as he hurried towards Robb's rooms, where he had returned to after beheading Bolton. Jace had gone with him hoping his presence would help, which was probably for the best as even Visenya had been able to tell that all three had been feeling the affects of the wine from the night before. She had already spoke to Jace about her plans to head to Dorne earlier that morning and then come back to take Casterly Rock, allowing Robb time to grieve. Jace had nodded his understanding and encouraged her to go, saying he could keep everything under control, knowing that Robb needed that time.

His poor cousin was completely crushed over what Jayne had done.

As Visenya neared the doorway of Hoster's rooms, she was surprised to see no guard standing outside. Wearily, unease slithering through her, she pushed open the door and entered the room. A fire had been lit, the curtains had been drawn open to show the bright blue sky and the hangings on the four-poster bed floated in the breeze. She moved around the bed to the side and stopped cold, eyes locked on the man laying in the bed. Hoster was laid propped up against his pillows, but his face was white and when she focused on his chest, it wasn't rising.

In a panic, she flung herself to his side, hands hurriedly seeking his neck for a pulse, "Hoster please, please, you have to be okay" she pleaded as her hands found his pulse point. She went quiet for a few seconds and when she felt no beat against her fingers, the sound that escaped her throat echoed down the halls and drew everyone's attention to the direction it had come from. It was a pure wale of grief, so hoarse and deep, that it made many hearts stutter in their chests.