CHAPTER EIGHT.

VICTIM

112 AC

VISENYA sat at the table for supper, attempting to not drown herself in wine. 

She was failing miserably. 

The woman was glaring at three people at the table on rotation. Her father, Alicent and the new pawn her father had put forth for her hand. Lord Blackwood's son Duncan was only older than her by a few years, six to be exact, and yet he was as large as a man in his fifties with a penchant for expensive ale. 

The woman eyed him with disgust marring her face as he shovelled food into his mouth, taking gulps of wine between each bite. Even Rhaenyra, who sat beside her was disgusted. 

Visenya's gaze shifted to Alicent, who stared at the man in a similar way. However, as their gazes met, the corners of the Hightower's lips lifted into a small smirk as she turned to Viserys and whispered to him quietly. 

Visenya's eyes narrowed as anger practically radiated off of her. 

"Visenya, don't you believe it's a wonderful match?" Alicent questioned, her eyes flicking between the outsider and the princess. 

"I think I'd rather cut off my own foot than marry him," Visenya muttered, though loud enough for everyone to hear. The room quietened and Duncan looked up, his lips smeared with grease. 

"I beg your pardon?" he questioned. 

"You make me sick," Visenya scowled. 

"Visenya," hissed her father, "Apologies Ser Duncan, my daughter's had a hard day."

Visenya rolled her eyes and picked up her own wine glass. It had been a hard day indeed. She was forced to endure the dress fittings for Alicent and the cake tastings. The wedding was to be in a month and yet the girl acted a though it were on the morrow. Rhaenyra was seemingly as exhausted from the situation as she had kept her mouth shut the entire time, much like her sister. 

The two had sat in the same room for around four hours, listening to Alicent drone on and on about the dress she wanted and ripping apart the ideas the seamstress hard. She was an awful bride Visenya would say.

Either way, when it was done, the Targaryen sisters scrambled out of that room so fast you'd think the room was on fire. 

Visenya poked around at the peas on her plate, not really feeling like eating. It was awkward as usual with the presence of the two people not of Targaryen blood. 

Finally it came to a close and Visenya dallied until Duncan had left. She followed him to his chambers and smiled to herself as he dismissed the guards outside. No doubt he'd brought a whore with him and would take pleasure for the rest of the evening. 

It was a great disrespect to bring a whore into the home of a woman you want to marry, but Duncan cared for nothing but power. He was a disgusting pig and Visenya had no doubt that he always would be. 

Slipping into the tunnel in the corridor, she made her way back to her own chambers. 

Late that night, Visenya made her way back to Duncan's chambers. Her pale cream nightgown billowed behind her and her silver hair was left down. She looked like a beautiful ghost. 

She exited the tunnel and swiftly opened the door to his chambers without knocking. 

The whore screamed in surprise, tumbling off the large man and concealing herself with the sheets, "What are you doing in here?"

Visenya rolled her eyes and walked toward the bed. She placed the wine gently on the table and picked up the bag of coins. She threw it onto the bed, "Get dressed and get out. If I ever see you here again I'll have you beheaded."

Duncan gaped as the woman began to dress hurriedly before she swiftly made her exit. Visenya smiled down at him, though her eyes were anything but warm. Malicious is the word he'd use. 

"Hello, Duncan."

"Princess, what can I help you with?" He asked awkwardly. Visenya's eyes surveyed his being. His neck was painted with rouge from the whore's lips and his chest was raked with red lines from her nails.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to have a chat. You are my suitor after all," she replied with an innocent shrug.

"You said I make you sick.'

Visenya waved him off with an airy look, "The words of a drunk woman." Pointing to the bed, she questioned, "May I?"

"Of course."

He hurriedly rose and pulled on some trousers as she made herself comfortable on the bed. She made a note to burn her nightgown when this was over. Duncan returned to his spot and Visenya turned to watch him properly. 

"Why do you want to marry me, Duncan?"

"You are exceptionally beautiful, Princess."

"So you want to parade me around like a showhorse?"

"No, no of course not," Duncan backtracked, suddenly realising that he'd offended her. Visenya laughed, "I need a wife and you are the best person for that role."

"Do you want power?" Visenya mused. As he went to protest, she lifted a finger, "Don't lie."

Duncan hesitated before responding, "Yes, Princess."

The Targaryen smiled, "I love it when men are honest. I've brought you a gift. Wine. From Braavos. I heard you love wine as much as you love to fuck whores." He stared at her with unsure eyes. He was clearly thinking she was up to something, which she was. However, her gentle smile put him at ease and he reached over to pour some into the glass. As he sipped she questioned, "Is it nice?"

"Very much so."

"Daemon brought it for me on his last adventure. He's rather good to me, always bringing me something useful," Visenya muttered, dragging her fingertips along his collarbone— the brush of her skin against his repulsed her. 

"How is the prince?"

"He's doing well, on Dragonstone. He writes often. He's coming for the wedding."

"Are you excited?" Duncan asked. As he received a confused stare he elaborated, "For the wedding Princess. Your father's marrying again, it must be a joyous time."

"Joyous indeed," she drawled. She swiftly changed the topic, "We're to be married if my father lets you." Visenya plucked the wine from his hand and discarded it on the table. She smiled softly and brushed some of his dark stringy hair from his face, "I hear you like to fuck maidens, Ser Duncan."

"W-where did you hear that Princess?" Duncan asked, nerves pricking the back of his neck. 

"Nowhere of concern. I'm a maiden," she lied. 

"Are you?" he squeaked. 

"Would you like to fuck me Duncan?" whispered Visenya, leaning close and fluttering her lashes. Duncan swallowed thickly. Something in her gaze was seductive yet predatory as if she were ready to pounce. 

"Yes," he muttered, entranced by her dark violet eyes. 

"Good." She threw one leg over his side to straddle him. He stared up at her stiffly, his hands at his sides as if he'd never had a woman on him before.

Her fingers danced over his skin carefully as a smirk crossed her face. He was completely at her mercy. 

"My father's getting married to that smirking whore from Oldtown and making me marry you," Visenya drawled, "A fat, drunken cunt, who can't even tell when I lace his wine with poison."

Duncan's face dropped as he tried to speak. He found he was unable to do so. 

"As I said, Daemon always brings me useful little toys. It completely numbs the body. You can't say or do anything," she chuckled, eyes marred with malice, "You're completely useless."

Visenya pulled the dagger from the sheath on her leg and held it before his eyes, "Another little present. I'd never thought I'd use it, but there's a first time for everything."

Tears leaked from Duncan's eyes as he realised what was happening, "Shh, shh, shh, no need to cry. It'll only hurt for a moment and then it'll be eternal pain in the Seven Hells."

Raising the dagger above her head, Visenya took a deep breath before plunging it into his skin, through his heart. Duncan spasmed beneath her as the light drained from his eyes. He went completely still and Visenya pulled the dagger away, blood spraying across her face. 

She sighed in annoyance, not expecting it to be so messy. She flopped onto the bed and breathed deeply.

Her expectations were that she'd do it and she'd feel incredibly guilty. However, all she felt was a hazy euphoria and sweet relief. She wouldn't have to marry him and he'd never disgrace the earth with his presence ever again. 

Visenya sat up and wiped the blood from her dagger onto the sheets before getting off the bed and grabbing the poisoned wine. She spilt it out on the floor and smashed the glass to make it look as though there was a struggle. 

Then, she retrieved the dagger she knew Duncan had kept —because he floundered it in front of her for a good twenty minutes the day before— and inserted it into the wound. 

The princess opened the door carefully and looked out. She quietly slipped out and into the tunnel, none the wiser of the crimes. 

The next morning, Visenya was feeling much lighter than she had the morning before. A small smile had settled onto her face, thinking that at any moment someone would rush into the dining hall and announce Duncan's death. 

The only dampener on her mood was that Viserys had said that they wouldn't commence breakfast till Duncan arrived. 

Just as she was ready to eat anyway, a serving girl rushed in, panting and face flushed. 

"What is it, child?" Viserys questioned irritably. 

"Ser Duncan is dead."

"What?" Viserys and Alicent exclaimed. 

"How is that possible?" Rhaenyra asked. 

Visenya merely sipped her juice and spoke, "How horrid." The four looked at her, suspicion marring their features, "What?"

"Visenya..."

"What?" she questioned. 

Alicent looked up at the girl, "Do we have an idea of who might've done it?"

"One of the kitchen maids saw a woman leaving late last night with a pouch of coins," the serving girl said, "We found wine and her rouge staining his body. He was killed with his own dagger."

"What a shame. Whores these days..." Visenya tutted, her gaze focused on Alicent.

Alicent's jaw clenched. Viserys paid no mind to what was going on around him, too focused on the small smirk on Visenya's face. She was wearing the same expression since she'd arrived. He was suspicious. It was not the first time one of her suitors had died. The last one had been poisoned with the Tears of Lys by his own brother. He was sure she had something to do with that as well. 

Visenya glanced at her father and let out a small sigh as a faux frown crossed her face. It looked like he'd have to find another victim for her.