WICKED AFFAIRS
v. breakfast with the hightowers

THE DOUBLE DOORS OF the Queen's chambers were pushed open wide, allowing Vaerra Targaryen to step across the threshold and take in the once familiar rooms inside. In the years since she had last stepped foot within those walls, their appearance failed to show much, or any, visible changes. Like most of the royal apartments, there was a variety of ornate furnishings and far too expensive décor atop every inch of available space. But where the rest of Maegor's Holdfast held vibrant reds and rich blacks, Alicent's rooms were draped in deep greens and sheer whites of her maiden House of Hightower.

     The sight truly made Vaerra's stomach twist. Throughout her childhood, she had been subject to the horrendous colors at seemingly every turn. Alicent had adorned herself in various shades of green for as long as she could possibly remember, and to Vaerra's misfortune, pushed her children to do the same. From her earliest moments, Vaerra found herself wrestled into dresses of jade and emerald and paraded through the Red Keep in the hues of her mother and grandsire's House. Ones that very much differed from those of her father's, of her own.

     And whether Vaerra liked it or not, green had become a staple within the Red Keep. It was seen as a symbol of defiance, a stand against those who tried to stifle the influence of the Queen and Lord Hand, of the integration of House Hightower and House Targaryen. Even in recent years, the color had taken on a new meaning, one that set a precedent in the precarious politics on the verge of splitting their world in two.

     Vaerra thought the whole notion was ridiculous. That so much fuss had been created because of a color, a hue she failed to find remotely pleasant to behold.

     But, those matters didn't come close to Vaerra's current list of priorities. No, her mind had foregone any hint of obscure thought as her gaze fell to the collection of stares aimed in her direction.

     At a round, wooden table further within the large chambers, the members of her family already present had claimed their preferred seats as they waited for everyone else yet to arrive. Of course, Alicent Hightower took her rightful place at what she presumed to be the center of the table. Her back straightened and her demeanor placid, while she kept her light eyes settled on her youngest daughter. An ever-present green draped across her body, concealing her pale skin from neck to wrist in the modest of dresses. The sight made Vaerra sweat at the mere thought of being adorned in such a thing.

     To her mother's right, Otto sat donned in the same dull hues as Alicent and the same neutral expression he had displayed Vaerra's entire life. Beside him, Helaena rested with her lavender gaze angled toward the table where a variety of foods were spread across its surface. Fresh fruits, flaky pastries, and an array of savory meats that made Vaerra's mouth water.

     The only other person at the table was Daeron, who pointedly placed himself directly across from their mother. He lounged back in his chair, having turned upon her entrance to regard her with a light, but strained, smile. Vaerra wondered how long he had to endure their mother and grandsire on his own.

     Bless Helaena, but her sister spent more time within her own mind than she did in reality. She wouldn't have been a particularly functional buffer between anyone in conversation.

     Before a greeting could be uttered, the doors at Vaerra's back blew open with a sharp bang. She whirled on her toes and took quick steps away from the entrance to see Aegon stumble over the threshold. Her eldest brother looked far more haggard than he did the previous day, an impressive and depressing feat. The dark circles beneath his lilac eyes were more pronounced, and his shaggy, ghostly white hair held a prominent sheen. And when he strode past her to reach the table, Vaerra caught the bitter scent of wine that seemed to waft off him in waves. With a scrunched nose, she watched him trudge toward the vacant chair between Daeron and Helaena to drop down into its steady embrace.

     Aemond had been right. Aegon truly hadn't changed. Still the boy of four-and-ten who snuck too many glasses of wine and passed out amongst the halls for their mother or grandsire to find. Vaerra didn't know whether that gave her a sense of comfort, or one of worry.

     Perhaps both.

     As the chamber doors closed, Vaerra turned to see Aemond had followed shortly after their brother. His shoulders were tense beneath his leather doublet, and his violet eye lingered on Aegon with a clear show of disdain. He must've been tasked to drag the drunkard out of bed for breakfast.

     Oh, how Vaerra didn't miss that in her time away. Why their mother failed to instruct Aegon's sworn sword to do so, she would never understand? Perhaps Ser Arryk became too complacent with the whims of his charge. Who knew?

     Vaerra didn't give Aemond a second glance as she looked toward the table. More specifically, the only two chairs that remained available for the taking.

     One beside Alicent, and the other next to Daeron.

     And Vaerra knew exactly which one she would claim.

     Vaerra glanced to her side where Aemond paused in his steps and met his eye. It didn't take an Archmaester to detect the mischievous glint it had overtaken, and the slightest upturn of his lips that followed. Her heart jolted. She knew that look. He held it many times whenever he wished to provoke her with a snide remark or a flippant ruse.

     The last time Vaerra perceived it in all its glory had been the night of Laena Velaryon's funeral. The night he claimed Vhagar, the largest dragon in the known world, and the night he lost his left eye.

     But in that instance, Aemond's expression held a more jestful edge. A sight Vaerra caught a glimpse of the day before as he followed her to her chambers. And at any other time, she would've indulged him. Entertain the blatant teasing that would surely follow, but not right then. Not when doing so could risk a torturous meal so close to her mother.

     "Don't," Vaerra hissed at him in a low tone only he could hear.

     Aemond angled his chin down to hold her gaze and hummed in response. An indiscernible sound to others, but not to those who had grown alongside him. Vaerra understood the meaning behind it. A nearly silent quip of 'why shouldn't he rush forward and make her take up the seat beside their mother?' The unspoken question meant she had to play his game right, or be forced to endure the stifling presence of their mother for the duration of breakfast.

     In the past, Vaerra would have countered Aemond's antagonistic behavior with some of her own, but she knew that moment was not an opportune time. If she rivaled him in a familiar hostility, he wouldn't hesitate to rush for the chair beside Daeron. Aemond certainly wouldn't mean anything by the action, only wanting to spite her the way he had often done in their youth, but Vaerra couldn't let that transpire simply for the nostalgic essence it held. Her brother didn't know what happened between herself and their mother, and she wouldn't put that against him.

     But, she also wouldn't allow his ignorance to leave her miserable for the duration of their meal.

     "Aemond," Vaerra muttered, smoothing out her creased expression of annoyance into one of near pleading. Widened, sad eyes and a minuscule pout on her lips had always worked wonders to soften her older brother's resolve when they were children. The mere sight would never fail to make Aemond concede whichever bothersome plot he intended to enact in her presence. Hopefully, the sight still held the ability to break through his stubborn nature.

     And as his own expression began to soften the slightest bit, Vaerra knew that she had succeeded.

     Without giving Aemond a moment to reconsider his previous thoughts, Vaerra hurried forward and sank down into the vacant chair beside Daeron. She released a small sigh as she rested against the thin cushion of her chosen seat and ignored Aemond when he claimed the one to her right.

     Alicent beamed, her aged features brightening as her gaze swept around the table and across each of her children. "Oh, it has been so long since we've all been able to dine together," she voiced in a joyful manner. "All of my beautiful children. Our family reunited."

     Vaerra pressed her lips together in a tight light, restraining herself from the scowl that threatened to spread across her face. Yes, her mother's beautiful children, who she had forsaken at every turn. Slighted so heavily that their lives would always be tainted by her actions. Such a picture-perfect royal family.

     The thought made her want to pick up the nearest fork and stab it into her neck.

     Alicent's bright smile remained as she glanced from her father toward her children. "Prayer before we begin?" she proposed to them.

     Prayer, right. Of course. Those who followed the Faith of the Seven prayed to the gods before they ate. Vaerra had entirely forgotten the practice still existed. After all, it wasn't like she partook it over the years. She never joined her family in Oldtown for meals. They were always enjoyed in the privacy of her chambers, or sometimes within her brother's. And despite being predisposed to praying before touching a single scrap of food in their youth, Vaerra and Daeron had completely foregone doing so the first time they dined apart from Ormund and the other Hightowers.

     Why should they give their thanks to the Seven when they had given them no reason to do so? Every prayer Vaerra uttered went unanswered by the seemingly just and righteous gods. They abandoned her in times of great need, allowing her to suffer without even a hint of acknowledgment. They didn't deserve an ounce of recognition, let alone be praised for the food that graced their table.

     Vaerra's silent resentment went unnoticed as one-by-one her family rested their clasped hands onto the table and bowed their heads. Her lips curled bitterly at the sight, watching them conform to the ways of an overly idolized religion. When she looked toward her twin brother, she watched as he politely performed the same gestures, but his eyes remained wide open.

     Daeron's light blue gaze narrowed slightly, and he nodded sharply in her direction, urging her to comply with their mother's wish.

     Vaerra glared toward him for a moment, which Daeron countered without pause. With a sharp breath, she raised her hands to the table's edge and gripped her hands in a tight hold. She angled her head down, not she refused to close her eyes and let them settle on the metallic gleam of her empty plate.

     "May the Mother look down upon this joyous gathering with love and shroud us in her compassionate embrace," Alicent began, voicing her gratitude to gods who would fail to listen. "May the Father stay his firm hand and protect us in times of need. And may the Crone grant us wisdom, guiding us through our endeavors in the days to come."

     Vaerra made it a point to let her mother's words flow through one ear and out the other, not allowing a sliver of thought to perceive them as anything but a low buzz in her ears. The prayer had simply been a formality, anyway. A vague string of requests that could be perceived in whichever way one so desired. Alicent never truly spoke more than a mere acknowledgement to the gods before a meal. Not unless she wished for a double-edged meaning to be heard by those present.

     As her family's eyes opened and their clasped hands loosened, they all proceeded to pick through the foods spread across the table's surface. Vaerra had always held the appetite for a more savory breakfast than one composed of fruits and pastries. Her choices were limited by whoever orchestrated the spread for their meal, but there was enough to leave her satisfied until she wished to have lunch. She placed a few cylindrical pieces of pork sausage onto her bare plate, along with a yellow yolked egg cooked to perfection and a small collection of cubed potatoes roasted until golden brown. It wasn't the largest or most varied selection, but it suited Vaerra just fine. She had never been a big eater anyway.

     Soon, everyone settled into a bearable silence as they continued with their meal. The only sound that filled the expansive chambers were the metallic clinks of utensils on plates and the obnoxious smacking of Aegon's lips as he took bite after bite.

     Vaerra had to restrain herself from leaping over Daeron to smack their eldest brother and force him to stop, but it seemed her twin perceived her unspoken thoughts when Aegon jerked in his seat and glared heatedly toward the youngest sibling. Daeron simply smiled in return. Afterward, Aegon kept his mouth sealed as he chewed.

     The strange peace that fell over them didn't last long as a deep rumble within her grandsire's throat cut through the quiet air. When the darkness of his gaze drifted across the table to where she and her twin sat within his direct line of sight, Vaerra tensed against the rigid backrest of her chair and braced herself for the conversation to follow.

     "As I'm sure you are all well aware, Daeron and Vaerra's nameday approaches within the turn of the moon," Otto declared, shifting his dark eyes from the twins to the rest of their family sitting around the table. "Which does not give us much time to prepare."

     Vaerra's brows creased at that. Prepare? She thought her grandsire would have already planned out the entire event from start to finish. When her mother mentioned the day before about speaking of the festivities to come, she believed the intended conversation would entail being told of the arrangements. In the past, Vaerra never had a hand in determining the course of her and Daeron's nameday. They were always arranged in advance without her knowledge. And once the time for celebration arrived, she would simply go through the motions for whatever was set to transpire.

     So, it made Vaerra curious as to what needed to be prepared? She found it hard to believe her grandsire left any aspect of the coming day open to chance.

     Otto's stare fell onto Vaerra and Daeron, glancing between them with an unequal amount of consideration. Brown pools of indifference settled on Daeron far longer than they did upon Vaerra, making it known who held the majority of his attention. "Your mother has expressed her wish for the final arrangements to be decided upon by the pair of you," he finally relayed.

     More confusion spread within Vaerra's mind. Their mother had proposed for her and Daeron to decide upon the arrangements? Why would she do such a thing? Namedays within their family were not entirely special affairs. Few in her lifetime had ever truly been celebrated in a more lavish regard than a simple dinner amongst family. The King's in particular were grand in spectacle, praising him with tournaments attended by scores of nobility from across the realm and feasts of the finest foods in such abundance they could feed the smallfolk of the city for months on end. So, it puzzled her as to what made that particular nameday of her and Daeron's any different from the rest.

     The turning of seven-and-ten didn't hold any particular connotation behind it. Only one significant age seemed to matter in the eyes of many, and Vaerra and Daeron reached such a milestone the previous year. A pivotal nameday that propelled them from the innocence of childhood into the bleak future of adulthood, marking them as a proper man and woman grown. And even then, the youngest children of the King celebrated such a time alone in a corner of the world secluded from their family.

     The achievement of reaching another year in life hadn't meant anything then, so why did it appear to have meant something at that point in time?

     Otto's dull drawl continued, piercing through the jumbling thoughts that rolled within Vaerra. "The choice, while ultimately yours, must allow for the inclusion of guests from the noble Houses and span for an ample amount of time to warrant their attendance. A royal celebration has not graced the realm in many years, and by those of court, it has been seen as far overdue."

     There it was. The true reason behind the sudden interest for Vaerra and Daeron's nameday. Their grandsire simply wished to use the occasion to placate the masses. Use the day to display a sense of power and flaunt the extravagance as a way to attract the realm's attention. Her passing thought when the news arrived in Oldtown of an intended event hadn't been that preposterous. Otto wanted to use her and her twin as a means of distraction, parade them about to satisfy the people's need to see their royalty and divert the growing speculation around the King's failing health for a short while.

     Vaerra couldn't say her grandsire's intentions for such an event were baseless. The nobility of the great and minor Houses were far too engrossed in the lives of others rather than their own. Always on the hunt for the next sliver of gossip, the smallest bit of information they could spread for a few minutes of notoriety. Or more sought out, a precarious moment that could propel themselves into a higher standing. And what better way to do so than a gathering of the wealthiest and most powerful people all in one place?

     Not to mention, a large event would surely take attention away from the state of the King. Questions of his whereabouts would undoubtedly be raised, but Otto was skilled enough to weave a believable reason as to why the man neglected to show for the nameday of his own children.

     Vaerra turned to her left and met an identical gaze. With just the twitch of their light eyes and the subtle shift of their features, a silent discussion passed between herself and Daeron, conveying to each other what they wished to say without uttering a single word. They knew an ulterior motive surrounded the decision to celebrate their nameday, having learned nothing their family had ever done came without the proper motivation. But even with such knowledge, neither of them truly cared much about it. They simply wished to make it through the festivities and perhaps slink back into the monotony of their lives without another world-altering incident to plague them.

     But now that they knew for certain, now that they knew they had a hand in how the intended events would play out, Vaerra and Daeron wouldn't let the opportunity pass them by. If their grandsire wanted to use their nameday as a means of distraction, they would let him do so without complaint.

     However, Vaerra and Daeron wouldn't let their grandsire achieve such a goal without getting something in return.

     "A tournament would be a fine way to commemorate such an occasion," Otto supplied, his tone of voice leaving little room for opposition. The revelation of Alicent wanting her children to have a choice in the arrangements might have been said, but that did not mean he was willing to allow such a thing to transpire. "Guests from across the Seven Kingdoms will have ample opportunity to arrive in three weeks time, and it would allow for..."

     "How about a hunt?" Daeron's words cut through their grandsire's in a burst of sound, drawing all eyes around the table to him with varying degrees of surprise.

     Vaerra could hardly keep the smile from her lips as she pressed them together tightly to maintain a placid stare. Of course, neither she or Daeron ever expected to be included in the discussion or preparations for their upcoming nameday. But even so, they had various ideas in mind for the minute possibility they would be asked for their opinion on the matter. And a hunt was one of the more interesting concepts, as far as festivities went.

     Alicent looked toward her youngest son and blinked rapidly. "A - a hunt?" she questioned in what could've been described as disbelief. And from what Vaerra knew, it was.

     Daeron nodded, unbothered by the attention placed upon him. "Mhm," he hummed lightly. "Why not? It has been quite some time since one took place, at least to my knowledge, and a hunt would still allow for an extensive guest list, as you requested, Grandsire."

     Vaerra let her eyes drift back toward the man, watching his jaw tighten just the slightest bit.

     Otto Hightower had always shown restraint when it came to displaying even an ounce of emotion, maintaining a perfectly stoic façade that failed to betray a single thought within his twisting mind. But despite his best efforts, a select few were able to discern the faintest shifts in the man's demeanor. Vaerra supposed her grandsire hadn't intended to let such minuscule changes about himself be perceived by anyone, even to those within his own family, but one could only do so much when it came to hiding anything and everything that pertained to themselves.

     And with Otto, a person always had to be on high alert when in his presence. Every little word, every little movement was observed by the man, being stored within the recesses of his mind for the right moment to bring them to the surface for his own needs. So, one had to learn to do the same in return.

     Vaerra prided herself in being able to detect such things about her grandsire, knowing the skill would be coveted when needed the most. But right then, it wasn't truly required. It simply added her with the knowledge that Otto already despised her brother's suggestion.

     Good. That was exactly what they wanted.

     If Vaerra and Daeron had to suffer being the center of attention for their grandsire's conniving plans, then so would everyone else.

     Hunts were never a preferred form of entertainment for their family, at least to no one other than the King. The events required them to leave the comforts of the Red Keep behind for the less luxurious tents and temporary structures erected in the vast foliage of the Kingswood. Dozens, if not hundreds, of noble lords and ladies would converge in clusters, pretending to enjoy the fresh air and open landscape as they silently complained about the lack of riches from home. All the while, a poor excuse of hunting for wild hare and elusive deer would take place, leaving the experienced huntsmen dragged along to provide the men with easy prey to coddle their engorged egos.

     In Vaerra and Daeron's eyes, it was the perfect way to ensure that everyone endured the same amount of annoyance and irritation as themselves. It was perfect.

     A snort to Vaerra's left caused her to turn, watching Aegon's lips twitch up into a jagged grin as he lifted a goblet of wine to his lips. He couldn't even wait a few hours after sunrise to sink into his cups. She forced herself not to grimace at the sight. How her brother managed drink the bitter drink every day, she would never understand.

     Alicent looked between her two youngest children, her pale features tightened in an expression of unease. "A hunt would - certainly allow for a large number of guests, but perhaps one could be arranged for another time," she expressed in a soft manner. "I'm sure your sister would not care to celebrate her nameday in such a way."

     Vaerra snapped back to her mother, plastering a pleasant smile onto her face. "Oh, I don't mind, Mother. I quite enjoy being out in nature. I think it would be nice," she replied in the sweetest voice she could muster.

     To her right, Vaerra spotted Aemond's own smile form, however noticeably strained by his attempt at suppressing it. He obviously failed, making his amusement known, before his ever-stony gaze returned as quickly as it fled. Vaerra prided herself in having caught the sight in time.

     Alicent met her daughter's pale blue eyes and pressed her plum tinted lips together. "Yes, I'm sure it would be, but your nameday should be celebrated in a much more - appropriate manner. A feast would do much of the same as a hunt and would be far better suited for the occasion," she retorted with a newly formed tightness. 

     Vaerra's stare narrowed at her mother's words. She knew her and Daeron's suggestion would receive some push back, but she came armed with a rebuttal that couldn't be ignored. "Hadn't a hunt taken place for Aegon's second nameday?" she quipped, raising a singular brow in her mother's direction as she cut into her sausage and raised a piece to her lips.

     Alicent mirrored her father fairly well, at that moment. Jaw clenched and eyes glazed from the slight contradiction. All she lacked was the perpetual aura of superiority and darkened hair. Vaerra supposed they were Hightower traits, ones she had been glad missed her.

     Otto displayed no signs of annoyance, but the bite in his tone betrayed his rigid appearance. "There is no need for such a debate," he interjected, capturing the attention of the room, once again. "I do not see why both cannot be held. A hunt to span a day or more, and then a feast to follow. The events would certainly sate the court and realm, while allowing Daeron and Vaerra the choice you desired." His gaze shifted to Alicent, narrowing much like Vaerra's own had moments earlier.

     The sight caused Vaerra to squirm in her chair, resisting the urge to shudder at the mere comparison to her grandsire. It almost made the pleasure of watching her mother seethe under her own father's stare fade as soon as it came. Almost.

     "The truth shall set you free," Helaena's gentle voice cut through the tense air for the first time since they had all convened.

     Vaerra looked toward her older sister who held a silver spoon between her fingers and twirled it against the tabletop. Her lilac eyes were glassy voids as she seemingly stared into the depths of the porridge bowl set before her.

     From her earliest memories, Helaena had always spoken in clipped phrases and nonsensical words that pertained to nothing being spoken in her presence. Combined with her soft demeanor, aversion to touch, and her interest in creatures with multiple legs, many found her to be off-putting and refrained from being in her vicinity for very long. But Vaerra had been different. She frequently sought her sister out, wanting to be near her side as a calm atmosphere seemed to follow Helaena wherever she roamed.

     As if she could feel Vaerra's gaze, Helaena raised her head and smiled lightly when their eyes met. Vaerra did the same, having missed her sister more than words could describe.

     The rest of their meal continued in relative silence until Otto excused himself for a meeting of some sort, departing the Queen's chambers with empty pleasantries and giving no show of farewells to anyone other than Helaena. Aegon didn't linger much longer, barreling through the door on steadier footing that was sure to not last. And soon after, those who remained rushed to give their own reasons to leave their family's sides for the rest of the day.

     Vaerra pushed herself up from her chair and made a move to follow Daeron, but she failed to flee fast enough to avoid the inevitable.

     "Vaerra, dear," Alicent called out, forcing her daughter to pause in her steps for the door. "May we speak for a moment."

     Vaerra kept her back turned toward her mother, meeting the gaze of Daeron at the chamber's threshold. He pressed his lips together in a tight look of pity, keeping a hold on the handle as Helaena slipped beside him at a quickened pace. He failed to move an inch, even when Aemond approached with a dull stare.

     Daeron wouldn't leave, wouldn't take another step, unless she willed him to.

     Vaerra sighed. She loved her brother. She loved his loyalty, his devotion to her. But right then, his presence couldn't save her from the conversation to follow. She and her mother needed to get it out of the way, before the days began to mount between them.

     Besides, what other time would Vaerra be able to tell her mother of her wishes when it came to her new way of life. It was now or never.

     Vaerra swallowed hard and gave her twin a firm nod. She would be alright without him.

     Daeron didn't seem convinced in the slightest, but he pulled in a deep breath and nodded in return. He released the door handle and turned, departing from the room without a second look.

     Last to leave the Queen's chambers was Aemond. He stood near the open entrance, having witnessed the silent conversation that transpired between Vaerra and Daeron with creased brows. His singular eye shifted in her direction, bearing his own wordless questioning within his violet gaze.

     Vaerra simply stared toward him blankly, not giving him a minuscule twitch in response. Aemond didn't know the half of all that occurred throughout the last four years. What had led to everything that followed. He didn't know about the animosity that befell herself and their mother, about the strengthened bond between her and Daeron, about the night that still haunted her dreams and waking hours. And what little he did know wouldn't allow him to understand the current moment, the silent looks and nods of reassurance.

     And truthfully, Vaerra didn't want him to. It was better for Aemond to be left in the dark, to remain blissfully ignorant of the past and its repercussions. So, she simply produced a light smile and turned on her flat heels to face her mother, leaving her older brother to step across the threshold and seal the door closed behind him.

     And for the first time in four years, the mother and daughter were left alone.

<June 11, 2023>

It's been awhile. I know. This writer's block is slowing killing me.

Nothing really exciting about this chapter. Unless you find stifling family meals entertaining.

We got some more Vaerra and Aemond interactions. Ugh, I just love them already! I can't wait to dive deeper into their relationship. It's definitely going to be an interesting one.

Also got a taste of Vaerra and Alicent's relationship. Let me just say, it's complicated barely scratches the surface when it comes to them. You won't learn why for a few more chapters, but I'll warn you that the reason is heartbreaking. Sorry in advance.

Don't forget to vote and comment.

- Jordan

P.S. Unedited chapter.