Darkheart Keep

Visenya's eyes lingered on Aegerys in the yard, but she was herded inside so quickly that she only had a moment to think before her eyes were caught by the twists and turns of the hallways of Maekar's keep. The peasant wench was here, somewhere, but this was to be Visenya's seat as well. She tried not to think of the other woman as she surveyed all that would belong to her and to her children.

The chambers she was given were very fine, though they lacked some of the things that Visenya preferred. Not enough wine, for a start, she thought, especially if she was to see that Vira face to face. She turned to Maekar and tightened her grip on his hand. "Of course I desire for you to stay." She realized she was very afraid. "I don't want to see her, Maekar, you know that."

That was some consolation, at least. Vira would be far away...close enough, by dragonback, but still far enough for Visenys to maintain her peace of mind. "You will not bring her to my bed, not here?" Her voice trembled and she felt so very young. She hadn't felt so small and helpless since before her father died. The tenderness of tone and touch Maekar used weakened her resolve to hate him for this. Oh how she wanted to hate him, for making her share, and not even having the courtesy to keep the woman a secret. She hated Vira, she was easier to hate, that peasant who had flaunted herself so openly at the Cuy wedding. But even Vira she could not hate, for Vira would be forced to suffer Rhaegars caresses. She shuddered and thanked the gods that she had not had to take her brother to wed.

"You said you did not love me," she said petulantly. "Could you send for wine? I find I have a terrible thirst. Perhaps then we can summon Vira."

Visenya did not reply, simply raising her cup also and drinking deeply of the strong red wine. She drained the glass before setting it back on the table heavily. "Let us get this over with, then. Bring your woman and let us talk." She busied herself refilling the cup before she looked her betrothed in the eyes again. The wine made her feel stronger. She understood now why her father had been so fond of it.

Vira entered the room with some trepidation, to see the girl who would be Maekar's bride. It seemed like their meeting at Baelon Waters' wedding was very far away indeed, in a carefree time and place where nobody was betrothed to anyone else and Vira was not with child. She walked slowly, still recovering from her injuries in the Kingswood, but was dressed in a sober, well cut gown of lilac wool, her dark hair braided. She looked across at the other young girl with solemn blue eyes. Visenya looked dignified - proud and brave and pretty, yet also uncomfortable and nervous, and Vira could not blame her.

"My lady," she curtseyed, giving Visenya the respect due to the lady of the castle. "It gladdened my heart to see Silverwing fly up to the castle from the windows of the maester's chamber. You ride her like a Targaryen, as you should."

"You are kind to say so, my lady," Vira said. "It struck me that we have matching white dragons, a male and a female." She stopped sort of hinting at any attachment or bond between them that could spring from this coincidence, but it was clear to Visenya that Vira was trying to find a common ground.

Vira hesitated a moment, and then turned to Maekar. "My lord," she said formally, without any hint of intimacy or affection or anything improper. "Would you be so kind as to leave Lady Visenya and I to ourselves? If Lady Visenya is agreeable, of course." Vira's gaze flicked to Visenya, a questioning and gentle glance.

"Perhaps we have." The barest hint of a smile touched Visenya's lips. Targaryen smalltalk indeed; where others would speak of the weather, they spoke of dragons. Her heart beat faster when Vira suggested they speak alone. She tried not to let the panic show on her face, and kept her features composed. "I am sure she and I have much to discuss. Go on, I will be just fine." So much to discuss, like how it feels when you kiss my breast, she thought. Her fingers twitched in trepidation, but her smile stayed painted on.

When the door was shut, Vira seemed to relax a tiny bit, and she gave Visenya a small smile. At seventeen years old, she was only a year old than Visenya, yet they were both women grown, and in a situation Vira had never found herself before in her life.

She came over to sit opposite Visenya. They were by the window, and sunlight streamed in through the glass. "I understand you must be nervous and scared, my lady," she said sympathetically. "I am as well. You must count yourself lucky. You are marrying a wonderful man, while I am promised to - well, I have not heard a great deal about Lord Rhaegar, and I am nervous at the prospect of wedding him myself. I promise I will do my best to be a kind wife to your brother."

It seemed that Vira did not hear the insults that Visenya threw at her, nor the iciness in Visenya's voice, which she received with a polite smile. She listened attentively as Visenya spoke of Rhaegar, and giggled at Visenya's description of him. "Then you must be pleased that you are not intended to wed him. Is it not the Valyrian custom to web brother to sister? Like Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives. Though the Conqueror also enjoyed polygamy - something few Targaryens have had the wisdom to do since then."

Vira's heart broke at those plaintive words, and the sight of Visenya's large, appealing eyes and how very vulnerable and alone and young she looked. It was not fair, she realized for the hundredth time, that these circumstances had been forced upon all of them. No maiden dreamed of going to her betrothed's house and being greeted by his mistress, whom he loved. Vira had been so lost in her own heartache that she had had little time or energy to consider Visenya's own pain, and now that she saw it as plain as day, she wanted to take Visenya in her arms.

"My dear Visenya," she said, her eyes soft, her voice full of tenderness. "I am truly sorry for this situation you have been placed in, even though I know I am too selfish and too deeply in love to relinquish my claim on Maekar entirely. You deserve better, as do I. But let us not see it as a sad life. Instead, let me be your friend, if you will allow me. A woman needs friends as much as she needs a husband, and I can be a powerful, faithful, and loving friend to you. When you are sad, I will hold you in my arms, or comb and braid your hair, or make you tea. When you are threatened I will defend you. And when you bear Lord Maekar a son, I promise I will not only honor your heir, but be a loving aunt to him. If you would allow it. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure."

Vira let her cry, giving her a cloth to wipe her tears with. She sat in silence while Visenya cried, without interfering. Visenya needed the room to rage, and to hate her, and it was wrong to deny her that.

Eventually she said, "I will not force you to love me, or even like me. You are allowed to hate me, and you have every reason to do so. I will not take that away from you. You are not forced to befriend me, but I want you to know that I bear you no ill will at all, and I just want to do everything I can to make it up to you for this arrangement that I am asking you to bear. You are a Targaryen, in direct descent from Aegon the Conqueror. You are no stranger to the idea of mistresses, or the idea of sister wives, but in our case it can be something that leads to friendship and strength, rather than discord and sadness."

A light knock echoed on the door, and when it opened Maekar stood framed in the doorway. "Are you alright, my dear?" he asked gently, looking first to Visenya. "May I return or do you wish to speak still without me?" His voice was nervous, and it occured to Visenya he was not nearly so cocksure and confident that he sometimes appeared to be.

Maekar looked to Visenya, not precisely ignoring Vira, but making it clear that it was Visenya's permission he sought, and her word he would obey in this instance.