𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ★ the house of the dragon.

chapter eight, labour's aftertaste.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒
- LABOUR'S AFTERTASTE -

Visenya stood on the hill above blackwater bay.

The same hill she took place on only a day prior, where she once gazed at three... unlit pyres.

She tried her best to avoid looking around as she instead, overlooked the crashing waves. However, the feel of grief and loss continued to feast at her. Pulling at the strings of her flesh and tainting her with the reality. With the reminder -

That they were gone.

All three of them.

She could no longer hold back the torrent of tears. They poured down in streams, and down the Princess' face.

Not like rain though. Instead, they were hot. Like boiling rivers which burned as Visenya let herself succumb to grief.

To weakness and vulnerability.

After she had exhausted her tears, she remained. Staring at the calm surface of the bay. In a trance like state.

As if one might expect her to dive into the waters. She wondered if it would make things easier - if it would take the hurt and pain away. It felt so real. So heavy. The hurt and the pain. As if nothing would relieve her from it's grasp.

And perhaps nothing ever will.

She tried her very best to look towards the horizon rather than stare at herself. To see a bigger picture of life. To take in the beauty of what was left in the world around Kingslanding.

To remind herself that what she felt now - in her darkest moment - will be but a speck in the overall story of her existence. That it was but a rather small bump in her story.

Or at least she hoped so.

She hoped she could come out of this stronger and even better. She hoped she could rise stronger, faster, and more dangerous than before. Much like a dragon, and much like her ancestors.

A sharp pain erupted from her breast, accompanied by a warm sensation. She looked down to see the beginnings of milk seeping through the fabric of her dress. A sharp reminder of what she had lost and why she stood on Visenya's hill.

Her tears returned. It was just a cruel reminder - another punch in the gut to the already raw and bleeding wound.

She let out a cry of anguish, her knees bending to the ground as she did so. Her head bowed down as the tears came.

Visenya hesitantly moved her arm and positioned it across her chest - where she carefully held her tender and swollen breasts. But it did naught to ease the pain in her muscles.

Her tears persisted as both hands moved to cup her breasts, she was trying her best to relieve the pain.

But it didn't and wouldn't work.

So she held them and cried - mourning the pain and memories which were associated with her daughter.

Visenya's gaze turned towards the ground beneath her. As if seeking answers. As if she expected her daughter's spirit to emerge from the dirt. To take her away from this pain, and to reunite her with the child. To give her some sort of closure.

Something she couldn't give herself.

But instead, nothing emerged from the soil of the hill.

Only silence. And despair.

⚔️

Visenya sat in her chambers with one cushion laid atop her lap, and the other pressed against her back. She ran her fingers through her platinum locks while she listened to her young daughter try her best to learn some more High Valyrian.