(122-07-09) Dragon Fever
Dragon Fever
Summary: Rhaegor and Visenya have a word or two.
Date: 9 July 2015
Related: Seeds of Peace; Dragon Fever II

The Targaryen envoy has been given use of one of the towers separate from the Sandship or the Old Palace, and when they are not attending social events with their Dornish guests this is where they often congregate. Visenya is sitting at a table in the Solar dressed in a simple belted gown with a cup of watered wine near her left hand, and a book on Dornish heraldry opened up in front of her. She appears to be rather intent on the book.

Rhaegor has been scarce, not one for idleness, and so he is not so often found socializing in the Targaryen tower. After all, this is no mere pleasure cruise for him, and he and Rhaenys have had more on their agenda than feasting and making merry with the Martells and their Dornish guests. But he does, sooner or later, come to the tower, and he does, sooner or later, wind up crossing paths with Visenya in the solar. One of his Velaryon men is by his side, the pair engaged in a conversation that seems to revolve around having Rhaegor's men join some of the Martell spears in morning combat exercises.

Visenya hasn't looked up from the heraldry book since Rhaegor has come into the Solar. She knows he is there, of course, as she is familiar with his voice. Where once she might have looked up at him with eagerness now she does not look up at all. This goes on for a good amount of time before finally she closes the book, and stands up smoothy from the table to approach Rhaegor and the Velaryon. She smiles prettily at the Velaryon before looking to Rhaegor, "Might we have a word, Ser Rhaegor?"

It's the same Velaryon who bore her the news of this trip, the night that Rhaegor returned to Old Town from King's Landing. When she affects the formality of addressing the prince as Ser, the man offers Rhaegor a look and then makes himself scarce, offering Visenya an impassive, "Princess," and a bow, before he goes.

When he's gone, Rhaegor says, "Of course we might," as though it goes without saying. He is reserved in his demeanor, and distant in his neutrality.

Visenya offers the Velaryon another sweet little smile and a passing, "Thank you." before she settles down in the seat he vacated. Her face is schooled into a pleasant smile. Her hands are folded neatly in her lap. "I have discussed retrieving my dragonets with Prince Torren, and he approves." She says, cutting to the chase instead of participating in small talk when they'd both rather not. "I would not want to give anyone the idea that I am letting go of my claim on them."

Rhaegor elects to remain standing, for how else is he to pace to occupy himself, though he stops still when Visenya mentions retrieving the dragons with Torren. "Am I to take you to mean that you no longer require or desire my assistance to that end?" He'd sworn to get them back for her, even as he refused to take her to his bed, the night he told her what new fate the King had conspired for her.

Visenya sucks in a little breath before she lowers her voice and drops the act, "Is the family planning on taking them from me?" She lifts her chin to look up at him and watch as he paces in front of her. "Would you even tell me if they were?" There is a small bit of hurt in her voice as she asks the next question. She's afraid to know the answer.

Rhaegor regards Visenya warily, and when she asks him the question she does, he almost hisses for the sudden breath he draws. "Do you think that you can toy with me as you do the Dornish prince? You told me once that you saved those smiles and looks for men not worth your time. Men who too easily fell prey to your charm. Or is it that because it has been decreed you must marry him, what happened between us as good as never was?" It seems he might stop at accusing her of manipulating him, or trying to, before a worse realization strikes him. He asks, his voice low, aggrieved, "Or do you think, in earnest, that I would conspire to take them from you, to inflict upon you the pain and grief that was inflicted upon me?"

Visenya's eyes widen when Rhaegor begins, and as he continues onwards they narrow and they take on a dangerous glint that has so far has never been presented to him before. She stands up from her chair to check that they are truly alone before she takes a step towards Rhaegor to stare up into his face. "How /dare/ you." She says, her voice no longer gentle or measured. "Prince Torren is not a fool. Do you honestly think I could manipulate him with a pretty little smile or some nice words? You know better than that! I am doing what I need to do to survive the same as you! This is the path that has been chosen for me. I didn't choose it! Do you think I want to let you go? I /have/ to!" She shakes her head, and lets out a wordless but distressed noise, "If I truly thought that do you think I would have just come out and asked you?"

Rhaegor holds his ground when she rounds on him, preferring the authenticity of her rage to smiles he must tell apart as true or false. It reassures him, even, gives him a bizarre sort of comfort that her spirit is still strong. She will need it to weather the wedding and to reclaim her dragons, after all. "You pay me insult to ask it at all," he says resolutely, when she is done spitting words at him. "You know what befell Nyraxes." What he did to make up for it. The shadow it has cast on his heart, on the rest of his life. The grief that never heals.

"I had no choice in the asking." Visenya returns in a sad voice. "I feel as if I can trust no one but myself. My dragons are gone, and as soon as word gets out I am suddenly shipped off to Dorne. Do you not find it strange, Rhaegor?" There's a brief pause before she says, "What if someone in the city sent word and that's why I was chosen?" She lets out a humorless laugh, "It was the Hightowers themselves who played the very thing that caused them to go!"

Rhaegor regards Visenya with a level stare, but a shadow of concern creeps across his features the more and more she says. Most Targaryens are touched with mania, it is known. The unfortunate result of brothers wedding sisters for generations. It's only that the degree to which it affects them varies. He has enjoyed the King's patronage on account of having wrested control from his own bit of madness, for having learned to harness it when he must. But like calls to like, and the flicker of that madness that inspires her paranoia? Rhaegor can't help himself but to take her cheeks in his palms, to force her gaze to his own, as if he might bring her back to level with his touch to tether them one to the other. "Visenya," he says quietly, his expression grave. "It was decided before it was known that your hatchlings had gone. As I live and breathe, I will cut my own throat before I let your dragons be taken from you. I have sworn already to reclaim them. I swear again, now, that we will."

"I think Prince Dhraegon poisoned Maelys' Braavosi boy for insulting me, but now that I've displeased him he has plotted against me to see my dragons taken." Visenya's voice is soft. Low. As Rhaegor holds her cheeks her amethyst colored eyes dart about a bit before settling on his face. "You don't believe me…" A tear trickles down her cheek before she asks, "You promise I'll have them back? The longer they are away the less I feel like I can trust… Even the tea doesn't help anymore."

Rhaegor holds her captive like that, his hands firm on her cheeks, as if he might single-handedly keep her on her feet. He is alarmed, and he is the sort that almost never lowers his guard enough to show it. It isn't his first brush with dragon fever, having witnessed it countless times in his kin. Having been stricken by it for a time himself, when he made Qarth bleed red on his legendary quest for vengeance. She only really flirts with it now, but it is a warning, a reminder of her fragility at just the time his ego had begun to war with his reason and blinded him to how badly she might need to borrow strength from him. "Forgive me," he murmurs against her ear, bending his head to deliver the whisper. "I have begrudged you doing just what I told you that you must. Let us weather these few days ahead. When they are at last through, we can return to doing what must be done."

Visenya was prone to it once. She had violent fits as a child where her siblings, servants, and even her father were not safe from her violent wrath. Rhaegor may have even heard rumors about it. But this paranoia is new. "I don't understand." She finally manages to say, "The only person who tells me anything is Prince Torren. What else am I to believe when no one tells me anything?" A few more tears trickle down her cheek, "Torren says I was chosen not because I am Daevon's brother but for other reasons, but why? Why if it isn't to take my dragons from me and give them to family members who are closer to the King? Rhaenys hates me. She has spoken ill of me to the King. Why send me?"

"I think that you ought go to your chamber and take to your bed," Rhaegor says quietly, the tone of someone resigned against trying to argue a point for the futility of it. "Prince Torren does not know Viserys's mind. Take care with your trust, Visenya. Do not forget that it is the blood of the dragon, not of Dorne, that boils in your veins." He doesn't belabor the point. Instead, he takes her by the arm, to escort her to her room. But then he thinks better of it, of how it would appear. "I will send for your maid. She'd be halfway back to Lord Celtigar if I hadn't bartered with Rhaenys to let her stay. That girl will lose her tongue if Rhaenys thinks she poses a threat to our fragile peace. The stakes are too high."

"No. I'm fine." Visenya says, and she tries to wretch herself from Rhaegor's grasp. "I'm fine." She is angry now, and it shows in her eyes. "Torren doesn't treat me like a child or an invalid like you or everyone else in the family does! Everything I have accomplished I have done for myself, not from help of the family, and now they give me away. The way I see it I owe allegiance to my husband and future Lord." She lets out a little choked cry, "You're too busy micromanaging everything without telling me anything that you don't even know the girl isn't my maid! Send her back. She's just a gossip and if you are going to be angry at me for random gossips I don't want them around me!"

Rhaegor lets her go when she flinches out from his grasp, bearing her ranting a little longer before at last her fanaticism for the Dornish prince causes him to snap and reveal, "If you owe thanks to anyone, it is to Rhaenys! Viserys wished to make offer of Helaena, for she would be far more fitting a bride to the heir to Dorne, and secure far more stable a peace. Only Rhaenys could not bear the notion of giving Dreamfyre to Dorne, and insisted you stand in Daevon's place." To say nothing of the fact that Rhaenys played so large a role in matching Daevon and Mariya in the first place. It's a visible weight off his shoulders to at least reveal the true nature of the machinations to Visenya, even if feels in the pit of his stomach that she will give him cause to regret having done so.

"Thank her for what?!" Visenya turns to round on him, and she is so angry at this point that her cheeks are scarlet, "For allowing me to be used like some fucking pawn? She didn't do this for me, and just because I'm making the best of this and seeing the benefits it gives me does not mean I wanted it!" She glares at him then, and says in a raised voice, "You don't get to decide what is appropriate for me to feel regarding this!" She tilts her head up to stare into his eyes, "I promise you this; this is the last time I am used in such a manner!" And then she turns to stalk out of the room.

"For the power and might of your new betrothed, without which you could not think to make such proclamations," Rhaegor fires back at her with deadly quick fury, forced low to keep his voice from carrying. "She didn't do it for you, but she has given you one of the greatest weapons you could hope to wield, after your dragons." By his reckoning, she wields it already. A notion further proven when she turns on her heels to leave.

Visenya hesitates a moment at the door before she turns on her heel to face him. "Oh." She says quietly, almost sumpathetically, "That's what this is about, isn't it? You loved me because you could control me. And now you cannot control me, can you?" She takes a step towards him then, "You don't have the upper hand over me anymore, Rhaegor. You can't punish me, and you cannot use my love for you against me. It must be very hard for you." She reaches out to touch his shoulder then, "I do love you." She lets her hand fall then, "But perhaps you're right. I ought to be grateful to Rhaenys." That said she turns to leave for good this time.

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