Chapter Text
Viserra paced the length of her chambers, hurt occupying her thoughts until it turned into anger. She was furious with him, yet even more with herself. With trembling hands she tore the mask from her face and tossed it across the room.
“I’m so stupid. So naive!” The words tasted bitter as she wiped angrily at the tears on her cheeks.
Standing in the center of the chamber, she suddenly felt as though the room itself had begun to spin. The walls seemed closer than before, pressing inward. The fire crackled in the fireplace, its warmth licking at her skin and the air felt soon suffocating.
Viserra dragged in a sharp breath. “No… no. It isn’t real,” she whispered to herself. “It’s only in your mind.” She repeated it again and again, but the words failed to steady her. Panic ran through her veins until, in a burst of helpless frustration, she snatched up a vase and flung it against the wall.
It shattered violently, glass scattering across the stone floor.
The noise brought Ser Gregor rushing inside at once. “Princess?” he said sharply, eyes darting around the room as if expecting an assassin to leap from the shadows. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I-I can’t breathe.” Viserra pressed a hand against her chest, her voice shaking. “I need to get out.”
Ser Gregor nodded immediately and took hold of her arm, guiding her step by careful step toward the balcony doors. The cool air spilled in as they stepped outside. He watched her closely as she drew slow, uneven breaths, her whole body trembling.
After a moment he spoke. “May I ask what happened?”
Viserra turned toward him, her expression hollow with exhaustion. “Me finally going mad,” she replied flatly. “Everyone’s been expecting it anyway.”
Ser Gregor blinked several times, as if reconsidering his decision to enter the room at all. “Right…” he said cautiously. “And the cause of this… madness?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a quiet, tearful laugh. “Naivety. Hope.” She paused, then lifted a finger in revelation. “Or..wait. I have it. The fucking dream!”
“A dream?” Ser Gregor frowned. “A dream upset you this much?”
Viserra began pacing around the balcony. Anger once more taking control of her. “Yes, Ser Gregor. A dream.” Her voice rose with bitter frustration. “The damned masquerade. I dreamt of it. I dreamt of them.” She turned to him sharply. “And what did I do afterward?” she asked.
Before he could answer, she continued.
“I didn’t stay away. I didn’t ignore them.” Her laugh was sharp and self-mocking. “No. Like a perfect fool, I walked straight to them. A willing prey strolling into its own trap.” She shook her head and placed both hands on the nearly extinguished brazier.
“Princess!” Ser Gregor barked in alarm.
“Why?!” she demanded. “Why didn’t I just walk away? Oh Gods..Whatever comes now- it will be my fault. Entirely my fault!” With a sudden shove she knocked the brazier over. Hot coals scattered across the stone floor.
Ser Gregor moved instantly, grabbing her hands. “Have you truly lost your mind?” he snapped, panic edging his voice as he inspected her palms. “You’ll have burn scars now!”
He stopped. There were none.
He frowned, turning her hands over again.“What…?”
Viserra pulled them free. “I won’t,” she said quietly. “Calm down.”
Before he could question that further, a deep voice cut through the night air.
“What is happening here?”
Both turned toward the archway. The king stood there, surveying the ruined chamber and scattered coals covering the balcony before his gaze settled on Viserra. He sighed softly and held out a hand. “Rough evening, child?”
“Not at all, grandfather,” Viserra replied with a brief, polite smile. “The ball was beautiful.”
Her eyes flicked toward Ser Gregor, who still stared at her hands with wide eyes.
The king chuckled. “I appreciate the sweet lie meant to excuse this mess,” he said. “But now I would like the truth.”
Viserra sighed and then nodded. She walked over to him, allowing him to guide her back inside.
Behind them, Ser Gregor stared after them in bewilderment. Having hard time understand what just happened.
“Wait..are we simply ignoring the fact that she just touched a burning brazier and somehow isn’t burned?” he said, though they were not listening anymore. “Because I feel that deserves at least a moment of discussion. Right?” He ran a hand through his greying hair. “Or perhaps later…Never mind.”
Inside the chamber, Daeron led Viserra to the sofa and sat beside her. “So,” he said gently, “what troubles you, my child? Did someone hurt you tonight? Or are you truly so unhappy about the betrothal?” He paused thoughtfully. “After all, I did say you need not choose either of them in the end. I only wished to-”
“I know, grandfather,” Viserra interrupted softly. “I know and I am grateful. Truly.”
“Then what is it?” he asked. “Did someone catch your eye at the ball, perhaps?” A mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “I did notice you speaking with Lord Lannister.”
Viserra stared at him in mild horror. “No!” She cleared her throat. “I mean… Lord Lannister is surely a very admirable man, but please no.”
Daeron laughed warmly and patted her hand. “As you wish. Though I would hardly be surprised if other lords soon ask for your hand. You have grown into a striking young woman. They certainly notice it.” He raised a brow. “Not only our Matarys and Aerion.”
“Grandfather, please,” Viserra groaned, rising from the sofa. “There are far more beautiful ladies at court. I am merely something new to look at. Give them a few days and they will grow bored.”
“Oh, dear,” Daeron sighed. “You mustn’t think like that.”
Viserra offered a faint smile. “But I must. It is the truth.” She folded her arms. “Why do you think Matarys chose me? I’m his age, and he already knows me. It saves him the trouble of awkward courtship with strangers.”
She paused.
“And Aerion… well.” She gave a dry shrug. “Perhaps he simply wishes to see how far he can push me before I finally lose my temper. That sort of entertainment is difficult to find among other ladies. I just..I'm only the weird girl, who many thought turned into Gods know what.”
Daeron took her hands gently. “It pains me to hear you speak of yourself this way,” he said quietly. “Whatever their reasons may be, your beauty is certainly one of them.”
His gaze softened. “You must learn to believe in yourself, Viserra. You cannot accept every cruel whisper about you and dismiss the kind ones.”
“But I… yes I will try, grandfather,” she said.
“Good.” He smiled. “You would surely give the same advice to your own daughter one day.”
Viserra froze. The thought of a future filled with children, of a life she could not yet imagine, sent a cold ripple through her chest. But she forced a polite smile.
“Perhaps,” she said. “May I retire for the night? I’m quite exhausted.”
“Of course, of course.” Daeron rose. “I shall not torment you further, especially now that I see you are no longer throwing furniture or trying to set the castle on fire.” He smiled fondly and brushed a hand against her cheek. “Sleep well, Viserra.”
....
The courtyard was already alive with the bustle of morning. Servants hurried across it with bundles in their arms, cooks called to one another near the kitchens, and stable boys moved between the horses. Most of their attention was fixed on one in particular, Aerys’s, while his belongings were carefully loaded into the waiting carriage.
Viserra stood among it all, strangely detached from the noise and movement. To her own surprise, an aching part of her wished she could climb into that carriage as well. That the past few days had all been some jest, and that her father would take her home with him after all.
“Do not waste your tears on me, Viserra,” Aerys said gently as he stepped beside her. “We will see each other again sooner than you think. I gave you my word.”
She glanced toward Aemon, who stood nearby with Maekar. The boy shifted awkwardly beside the carriage, trying to look braver than he likely felt. He would be leaving with her father. Aerys had promised to help guide his studies so that one day he can go to the Citadel.
“I know,” Viserra murmured. “But still… selfishly, I wish it would be me leaving with you instead of Aemon.”
Aerys sighed softly and brushed a hand through her hair with familiar tenderness.
“Oh, my child,” he said, his voice full of quiet regret. “Selfishly, I wish that too. But we both know it cannot be so anymore.”
“Why not?” she pressed, her voice small. “You could postpone the betrothals… somehow.”
“I already have,” he replied with a faint, weary smile. “For two years, Viserra. And though my father is the king, even I cannot defy him forever. At least… not without consequences.”
He gently lifted her chin so she would meet his eyes.
“It is perfectly natural to fear what the future may bring,” he continued softly. “But try not to live in tomorrow before it arrives. For now, you still have your freedom, weeks, before any chains of duty truly settle upon you. Do not spend that time grieving what has not yet come.”
Viserra gave a small shrug, though the ache in her chest remained.
“Perhaps,” she admitted. “But it does not make it easier to know you will not be here with me. You have never been gone this long before.”
Aerys’s brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face. For a fleeting moment, the urge to take her home surged within him again.
“Viserra-”
“I know,” she interrupted quickly, shaking her head. “I know I should not cry or beg you to stay. I know I should be strong. You taught me to be. But I cannot help it.” Her voice trembled. “If you had a son instead, things would be easier for you. Better. You wouldn’t have to deal with this. I am sorry…”
“Do not ever say such a thing again.” His voice, though firm, was filled with warmth rather than anger.
Aerys cupped her face gently in his hands.
“You are a gift from the Gods that I still do not believe I deserve,” he said quietly. “When your mother told me she was with child, I could hardly believe it. I had never imagined myself as a father.”
A fond smile touched his lips. “And yet my very next thought was that I hoped the child would be a girl.”
Viserra blinked in surprise.
“But every man wishes for a son,” she said softly. “I have heard your brothers say so often enough. They always speak of heirs. And that you still need one.”
Aerys rolled his eyes with playfull exasperation. “My brothers have always had the unfortunate habit of speaking before thinking.”
He wiped away the tears gathering on her cheeks.
“Viserra… you are the perfect child for me. The moment I first looked into your blue eyes, I knew my life had changed forever. It was almost absurd, such a tiny creature, yet somehow you had me wrapped around your little finger from the moment I first held you.”
He chuckled softly at the memory.
“I cannot imagine having such a bond with a son. A boy would wish to fight, to hunt, to disappear into the wilderness for days. I would hardly know what to do with him.”
His voice softened further. “But with you… everything was easy. It was as though you understood how frightened I was to be a parent, to deal with it without your mother, and you did everything you could to make it easier for me.”
He brushed her hair back gently.
“You were my salvation, Viserra. And are my pride and my joy. So never, never for even a moment, believe that I would rather have had a son. You are the very best thing that ever happened to me. And no distance between us will ever change how dearly I love you.”
That was all it took.
Viserra stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him, holding him as though she could keep him there through sheer will. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart that had always brought her comfort.
“I love you, Father,” she whispered. “Thank you… for everything.”
Aerys let out a quiet laugh. “Seven hells,” he muttered fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You will have me crying before I even leave.”
He squeezed her gently. “I will miss you, sweetheart.”
“I will miss you too,” she murmured.
A polite cough sounded behind them. Ser Gregor stood a few steps away, clearing his throat apologetically.
“Forgive the interruption, my prince,” he said. “But His Majesty requests the princess’s presence in his study.”
Aerys nodded slowly. “Then it seems our time has run short.”
He pulled away reluctantly, giving her hands one last squeeze.
“You will be well cared for here,” he assured her gently. “And I will write as often as I can.” With that, he turned toward the carriage.
Viserra watched as he placed a reassuring hand on young Aemon’s shoulder and guided the boy inside the carriage. Just before he climbed on his horse, Aerys glanced back over his shoulder one last time.
He raised his hand and waved. Viserra forced a brave smile and waved in return.
Moments later he was gone.
When Viserra stepped into her grandfather’s study, she had to fight the sudden urge to turn around and leave.
The room was far more crowded than she had expected. Matarys and Aerion stood near the center, their fathers behind them.
Her gaze drifted across the room and landed on Baelor. Her heart faltered.
He was already watching her, his eyes sharp, studying her as if he could see straight through her. Gift she wouldn’t be surprised if he truly had. The memory of yesterday flickered uninvited through her mind. Quickly, she looked away, willing herself to forget it.
She swallowed and stepped forward, bowing to the king. “You wished to see me, grandfather?”
Daeron rose from his chair with a calm smile and approached her.
“Yes,” he said gently. “And I promise it will not take long.” He stopped beside her, resting his hands behind his back as he regarded the others in the room.
“I believe we all understand why we are gathered here today,” he continued. His gaze moved over the boys before returning briefly to Viserra. “It is simply to ensure that each of you knows what is expected during the coming three months.”
Aerion’s lips curled into a confident grin.
“Of course we understand, grandfather,” he said lightly. “From this day onward we are meant to lure and hunt our little Viserra here. Whoever captures her first wins.”
His father struck the back of his head with a swift, irritated slap.
Aerion winced.
Daeron blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed. “Thank you, Aerion,” he said dryly. “For describing precisely what will not be happening.”
A faint chuckle escaped somewhere in the room.
“This is neither a hunt nor a competition,” the king continued. “You three will simply have the opportunity to spend time together. To become acquainted.”
Aerion leaned slightly toward Matarys, lowering his voice though not quite enough to be discreet.
“Lucky for you,” he murmured. “Otherwise you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Matarys rolled his eyes with open disdain. “I hardly require luck, cousin,” he replied coolly. “All it takes is you opening your mouth, for her to choose me immediately.”
Viserra drew in a slow breath. The next three months were already beginning to feel far longer than she had imagined.
Aerion scoffed. “Yes, because ladies are famously drawn to shy little boys rather than strong men.”
“Matarys,” Baelor warned quietly in advance, noticing the familiar spark of irritation flaring in his son’s expression.
Daeron placed a steady hand on Viserra’s shoulder. “You two still have much to learn about earning a woman’s trust,” he said calmly. “And her heart. You better use the time and learn it.”
His eyes sharpened.
“And you would do well to remember that I have granted Viserra the right of choice. She may choose freely… even someone who is not among you.”
That finally silenced them.
“What do you say?” Maekar hissed quietly to his son.
Aerion groaned under his breath. “I understand, grandfather. We will use the time you granted us,” he muttered.
Daeron seemed satisfied. “Good.”
He turned back to Viserra, his expression softening. “And you, my dear, there is no need to feel anxious about any of this. Nor about your father’s absence.”
He moved back toward his desk as he spoke.
“You will remain under my protection while you are here. And then in the capable care of both Maekar and Baelor.”
Viserra nodded politely.
But as the king finished speaking, her attention drifted past her cousins.
Her eyes met Baelor’s once more. It felt as if he had not looked away at all since she walked inside. And she noticed the small smile he had for a short a moment.
A chill ran quietly through her.
She looked at Maekar, who wore the same unreadable expression he has everyday. So she wasn’t certain if that meant he was annoyed by another responsibility. Or he simply didn’t care at all.
Either way she found herself under their control now. Everything must go through them. And that’s a situation she feared the most.