"We are waiting! Come on, Aegon!"
The Prince inhaled convulsively and sat up abruptly on the cushions. Behind the half-open curtain of the palanquin stood Dennis and Maerys, who was impatiently tapping his fingers on the post of the litter; the cousin, by all appearances, was no longer angry about the "improper" treatment of the Red Priest—Saera's youngest son, as befitted a Targaryen, angered easily, but cooled down just as quickly; furthermore, having become close with his Westerosi relative, he was ready to forgive him morning quarrelsomeness, a sharp tongue, and caustic remarks.
"Did I fall asleep?" the youth asked again in surprise.
"Yes, and quite soundly."
"We already thought to leave you here, at the porch, My Prince," Dennis put in.
"Would have had to stand until night," the other grimaced, climbing out of the palanquin at last.
Feeling legs, arms, and indeed the whole body entirely was strange, and flashes of multi-colored flame still flickered in his eyes; the dream was too vivid, too alive, too unreal to be true—everything said that it was one of those. Dennis, frowning, looked into his liege's face; surely by his delayed reaction, the knight also guessed what he had seen, but delicately kept silent.
Maerys, not having waited for his cousin, had managed to enter the house and disappear into its depths; Aegon, hobbling after him up the steps, felt like a broken old man in comparison.
"Again... it?" Dennis inquired quietly in Common, which they spoke only in private; the former servant had mastered Volantene quite easily—he understood High Valyrian well, but speech did not come to him, and the simplified dialect of the New Freehold corresponded quite well to his abilities.
"Yes. It."
"What this time?"
"I know not," the Prince admitted honestly. "I understood not a damn thing. Flame and voices."
"Is that all?"
"Did you want more?" Aegon snapped sharply, angered by the sudden questions.
"No, My Prince."
What was good about Dennis was how well he had managed to study his liege in twelve years; and now, scarce had the Prince shown intemperance than the knight immediately backed off and with a formal respectful bow disappeared from sight; he would find himself some occupation until evening, but for now, it was better not to catch Aegon's eye. The youth sighed, calming his irritation, and continued his way up.
At the chambers assigned to him, an excellent surprise awaited him: Viserra sat on the low windowsill, absently running her finger along the black bars of the flaming stained glass. The girl was beautiful as always: scarlet reflections fell on her golden hair, making them resemble tongues of fire, but this was not at all that allegedly sacred flame that Aegon had seen today in the Red Priest's cell, and certainly it had nothing in common with what he had seen in the dream—this flame was alive, warm, and gentle. At a single glance at his cousin, all the fatigue remaining after a difficult day fell from Aegon. Viserra, hearing the tap of his cane, turned with a soft smile.
"I ran into Maerys and thought I would catch you in time," she said.
"You could have taken your time," chuckled the Prince, approaching closer.
"How was your pilgrimage?"
"Disappointing. Much ado about nothing."
"I always considered Red Priests chatterboxes and pyromaniacs," the Lady shook her head, rising from the windowsill; now multi-colored light danced on her foam-white dress, coloring it where fashion did not allow sewing precious ribbons with patterns. "I must apologize to you."
"For what?" Aegon was taken aback.
"Because of my foolish wish, the Triarch lectured you yesterday. He should not have spoken so to you, and I should not have asked you for a ride on Vermithor. If he is truly wounded, then it must have been hard for him to carry two people at once..."
"Nonsense," the Prince waved her off. "Dennis and I flew on him from Braavos itself, and bags were attached to the saddle besides, and we reached you somehow. Furthermore, you are much lighter than Dennis, and besides, it is good for Vermithor to stretch."
"Still..."
"It was pleasant for me to fulfill your wish regardless."
"I lost a bet, by the way," admitted Viserra with a sly smile.
"To whom?"
"To myself. When we walked to the hippodrome, I bet that I would not be afraid, but when Vermithor crawled toward us..."
"That bastard frightened you," nodded Aegon. "Will have to have an educational talk with him."
"I did not expect that you would offer me a flight. Truly. When we were small, Mother told us about her brothers and sisters soaring in the heavens on dragons, and it seemed to me that only one person could fly on one dragon."
Aegon wanted to say that this was not so far from the truth, but some seventh sense made him bite his tongue and swallow the Maester's explanations.
"But when we rose into the sky, and I saw the Walls from above... I have never seen anything more beautiful! The whole city, as if on the palm of a hand, and the clouds so close!"
"That is why you have no need to apologize," the Prince answered with a soft smile. "Even if that Aeksio shouted, stamped his feet, and threatened with the Seven Hells, it would have been worth it. Even if I were thrown out of the city..."
"Do not, do not speak so!" protested Viserra, and Aegon obediently fell silent. A pause hung, and after a couple of moments, the cousins laughed awkwardly. Everything essential had already been said, but Aegon did not want to leave.
"If you wish..."
"Listen..."
They spoke almost simultaneously and laughed again.
"Forgive me."
"No, you speak!"
But Aegon spoke nothing, and instead leaned forward and kissed Viserra. Fearing to take too much at first, he wanted to pull away already, but the Lady not only answered the kiss but deepened it, possessively pulling the Prince to herself. Aegon's head went empty, and his heart, pounding somewhere in his throat, did a somersault and continued to beat deafeningly loud.
Finally, when both were running out of air, they tore away from each other, and Aegon cast an anxious glance at the stairs—they stood in plain sight. Noticing his anxiety, Viserra laughed quietly and turned his face to herself.
"Do not fear, this is my house."
"I do not think your mother or brothers will be glad that I..."
"That you 'what'?" she chuckled. "Ruined my reputation? You are sometimes such an Andal, Aegon. Brothers do not care, Mother in her time took care herself that I parted with my maidenhead not so... painfully as she."
"Our lady mothers would have had a stroke from such a thing."
"If a Lady is still a maiden by my age, then her place is in Mantarys."
"Because she is ugly?" suggested Aegon.
"You are sometimes such an Andal," repeated Viserra. "Because something is wrong with her. Physically. But I am fine."
"Unlike me."
"Does your leg hinder you somehow?"
"In this sense—no," said Aegon and led the most beautiful of the Old Blood Ladies into his chambers.
The cane rolled across the Myrish carpets, rings, bracelets, chains, and pins flew, then the dress slipped from the girl's shoulders by itself; not ceasing to kiss Viserra, the Prince somehow got rid of his tunics, and he was already shaken out of his breeches. Unsticking from each other for a few moments, they involuntarily assessed what was revealed.
"If one does not look below the knees, then on the whole everything is normal," tried to joke Aegon, awkwardly stepping back.
"How good that I do not concern myself with particulars," the Lady answered in tone and pulled him into a kiss again.
Everything was quite unlike in the brothel of the Lyseni Nerra. On the Street of Silk, they loved passionately and quickly, because time cost money; in the red-and-black house behind the Black Walls, they loved passionately, but sensually and certainly were in no hurry. Aegon managed to assure himself that he knew how to control the situation, but how deftly Viserra led them both along the very edge of pleasure, stretching out the bliss, could not fail to delight.
First she allowed him to take her as Aegon wanted: he wanted right there and immediately, so they settled sitting on pillows face to face, not tearing away from each other; but scarce had he begun to accelerate when the Lady pushed him onto his back and straddled him, taking the whole process under control. Thus, not breaking eye contact, resting hands on each other's chest, as if simultaneously pushing away and pulling themselves to the other, they reached release.
Some time later, when it had already grown dark outside the window, covering the inside of the girl's thighs with kisses, he could not refrain from a comment:
"Tell me honestly, did your mother teach you everything herself?"
Viserra laughed huskily, throwing back her head:
"Among the Old Blood, it is not customary to betray one's family."
"With us too," remarked the Prince and returned to where he had stopped, forcing the Lady to choke on a moan.
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