𖤓 - THE PACT OF SUN & FIRE
❝ United by 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, bound by 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲, they forge the Pact of Sun & Fire ❞
𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍, much like her namesake, a wild child. The youngest surviving daughter of Queen Aemma Arryn & Vis...
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──── # 112 AC " Here I Walk "
── ⋅ ⋅ ── 𖤓 ── ⋅ ⋅ ──
VISERRA had finally decided to let her uncle do as he wished, after spending much time questioning Ser Cole, a man she found herself deeply interested in, returning to her rooms to find peace in her own mind after a long day of dealing with others.
By the time she had settled into her chambers, bathed and freed herself from the smell of dragon, her older sister Rhaenyra had finally returned from the council meeting where she served the men their cups. The grand room where men plotted—or more accurately, sat about listening to jokes made by the King and planning silly little tournaments. At least, that's what Rhaenyra had told Viserra. Each day, the eldest Targaryen Princess returned from the council, her mind grew more troubled. Whether it was about their mother, who suffered a long and hard pregnancy to secure the realm's male heir, or the fact that despite being born the eldest child, she would never be the son her father wanted—she would never be enough.
"Our uncle has returned," Princess Rhaenyra spoke, seated across from her younger sister. Viserra was absorbed in a book of stories, her knees pulled to her chest as she curled up in her chair, lost in the histories of the Targaryen dynasty and all those who existed before her.
Viserra nodded slightly, lifting her eyes from her book to meet her older sister's gaze. She observed Rhaenyra fiddling with the rings on her hands, a sigh escaping her lips as she noticed the worry furrowing her sister's brow and troubling her lips. Closing the book in her hand, Viserra placed it on the table before her and sat up properly, lowering her knees and letting her bare feet touch the floor. She fixed her gaze on her sister, hands crossed before her.
"'Tis a good thing, is it not? His return—" said Viserra, a small smile gracing her face as she glanced at her sister, "but that's not what troubles you, is it? It's something else, the words of others perhaps? I know how much you care for such things."
Rhaenyra let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head as she spoke. "Father avoids the troubles that come to shake our home. He has never been much of a warrior, but oh, how foolish can he be!" Rhaenyra huffed. "He expects that if mother births a son, then all his troubles will end. He believes that if the Gods bless him this one last time, then surely all will be well. But what of us? His dear daughters? A boy is born, and he will rule our kingdom. But us? We'll be lucky enough to live past the birth of our first child!"
The princess's bottled-up emotions seemed to spill out in a rush. Days spent listening to the words of the men at court, all whispering and plotting around their father and mother, behind their backs, of course, had gotten to her. Though she concealed her true thoughts from the likes of their father and Lady Alicent, if anyone, the only person she could truly confide in was her baby sister—the only one who genuinely wished to listen.
