Visenya 7 AC

"I would marry her to Aenys," Rhaenys remarks as she sits in the armchair, holding her niece in her arms. Visenya is bedridden but she still turns her head sharply to face her younger sister.

"She is hardly a day old yet you speak of wedding my daughter to your son?" Visenya questions.

"Queen Alyssa Targaryen," Rhaenys whispers softly to the babe. "It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree sister?"

Visenya will never deny that she is a stoic woman, yet she cannot hide the puzzled look that spreads across her face at Rhaenys' suggestion.

"As if our brother would agree to such a thing," she scoffs. "Does Aegon no longer wish to have my nephew wed some Velaryon girl? To honor our beloved, late mother's house?" Visenya's tone mocks.

"He will surely agree to make his daughter, your daughter, my niece, Queen. I will make sure of it," Rhaenys promises, her delicate hand softly stroking Alyssa's silver wisps of hair. "You know just as well as I that if I am the one to suggest it, Aegon will not oppose betrothing Aenys to Alyssa."

Visenya pushes herself back in her bed so that she can sit up straight.

"I do not understand, sister," Visenya murmurs. "Do you not seek to make a future daughter of yours the Queen?"

"Alyssa is only six moons younger than my son. I have always believed that great age differences between husbands and wives more often than not lead to unhappy marriages," Rhaenys' mouth turns grim. "And with our current troubles with the Yellow Toad and the rest of her Martell ilk down in Dorne…" she paused. "We both know that the chances that Aegon will have us go to war are becoming higher every fortnight. To be with child during peacetime is brutal but during wartime… it is deadly. Meria Martell is a stubborn woman, this fighting that Aegon will lead us into could last for years, and thus I sincerely doubt that either of us will be bearing babes anytime soon."

Visenya lets out a laugh, the sound echoing around the room.

"What?" Rhaenys exclaims, shushing the babe when she starts to fuss at her aunt's outburst. "What is so funny?"

"Consider me impressed, sister," Visenya laughs. "The singers spread that Queen Rhaenys has no time for anything other than dancing, parties, and sharing King Aegon's bed, yet here she is now, discussing the potential for war in Dorne with new mother Queen Visenya!" Visenya shakes her head with mirth.

Rhaenys shoots her elder sister a glare, though Visenya can see the corners of her mouth twitch in amusement, until she finally lets out a girlish giggle, turning away in embarrassment.

"But truly, Visenya," Rhaenys looks down again at her niece before meeting Visenya's stare with her beautiful purple eyes that the newborn Alyssa has surprisingly been blessed to inherit. "You deserved much more than Aegon could give you. It is not fair that our brother was allowed to pursue love when you were not."

"The Gods are never fair, Rhaenys," Visenya's words are cold. "I have known this to be true for quite some time now."

"Just listen to me, sister," Rhaenys' frustration tainting her voice. "I know that you should have been Aegon's only wife and I know that you should have been his only Queen. It may have been Aegon's decision to wed me too but I loved him and I wanted to be selfish."

Tears filled Rhaenys' eyes and for a second Visenya could see the little girl she had once been in their youth on Dragonstone. Before the Seven Kingdoms. Before the Conquest. Before she had fallen in love with Aegon. The younger sister who would sleep in Visenya's bed after she had a nightmare and who would run into Visenya's arms when she fell and scraped her knees. Visenya hates to acknowledge that she often longs for the days when she was Rhaenys' favorite sibling.

"Whether it was the will of the Gods or simply cruel chance, it will be my son that sits on the Iron Throne after Aegon when you and I both know that it should have been yours. I love you, Visenya, and I may not be able to make things right but I can ensure that your daughter has a crown. You may not be the mother to a King but I swear on Meraxes herself that you will be a grandmother to one."

Rhaenys slowly stands from her armchair, Alyssa sleeping soundly against her aunt's chest.

"They call it Aegon's Conquest but it was not Aegon, but Visenya, Aegon and Rhaenys who conquered the Seven Kingdoms. By wedding Aenys to Alyssa, all of our lines will rule Westeros when our shared grandson sits on the Iron Throne."

Queen Rhaenys gently passes Princess Alyssa to her mother.

"As it should be."

A smile, a genuine smile slowly forms across Queen Visenya's face.

"As it should be. Why don't you go inform our brother of your splendid idea, sister?"

Rhaenys only nods.