The Unburnt

Chapter 1 - Prophecy

MY STORY IS ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE-CANON DIVERGENCE, SO THERE WILL BE MODIFIATIONS TO WHAT FOLLOWS ASOIAF

''Every time a new Targaryen is born, the Gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land. In the case of Daemon Targaryen, the coin never ceased to flip.''

King Jaehaerys Targaryen, grandfather of Prince Dameon and King Viserys

The day Visenya was born ought to be described by the minnesingers as the Flourition of King Viserys ''The Peaceful,'' the demonstration of yet another soft soul brought into a marred world that waited to cripple the softness until all the petals fell off. At twenty years of age, I paced the corridors that lined the birthing chambers, the shouts of Lady Aemma carrying through the stillness of the Red Keep. Childbirth was considered to be the bed where life began, a small form of a human crying as it crawled its way out of the mother's pained body, shouting at the tops of its lungs in sign of victory as it managed to come forth for the first but not last time in life.

To me, childbirth was the deathbed. Sweat gathered at the back of my neck, my silver hair strands sticking to my skin as to irritate me more than I already was. My steps echoed into the still air that was disturbed by the muffled sounds of the midwives inside the birthing chamber and Lady Aemmas screams. My mother died giving birth to me, never having the chance to meet the lady who gave her life to bring me into this flawed world, a world where I felt like I didn't belong. Perhaps it shouldn't have been me who survived. My thoughts gnawing at me, the same conversations playing always like the same music played at a feast, a music that everyone started to detest. I didn't hear my brother Viserys until my eyes caught sight of him as if I was submerged under water and nothing could make its way past my own lingering doubts and resentments.

''What is it? How is Aemma?'' I search his eyes for an answer I wish I wouldn't see. Please let the babe and the mother live. Viserys gave a weary smile as he clasped a hand on my shoulder.

''I called for you twice Daemon,'' he began saying as he carefully watched my reaction, '' my wife gave birth and I wished for you to meet the new addition to our Targaryen House," he said with a tired smile. He was allowed in the birthchambers as though it was not expected nor usual for a husband to be by his wife's bed as she brought life from between her thighs, but my brother loved Aemma more than anything in this world.

I only nodded as I let him guide me into the room, feeling slightly taken aback and intrusive in such a raw moment, upon entering the chambers for the second time in my life. The first time was four years ago when Rhaenyra was born, a bundle of fire and joy that terrorized both her parents and uncle, along with the rest of our House. At that time when I made my way to meet my first niece it felt normal for me, a six-and-ten years old boy who enjoyed sparring and riding his dragon, waking up upon the realization that he was now an uncle and had to vow to protect the young Princess. But today was different.

It felt like something gnawed at me, making my heart bleed and my breath constrict as my feet carried me instinctively to the cradle where I heard the soft coos of a babe.

''You wouldn't believe this brother," he chuckles as he comes beside me and looks down, ''the Gods of Old Valyria wished to makeshift a balance of the many males that have perspired in our family.''

''A girl?'' I ask my voice somewhat dry but laced with emotions no one knew of. My eyes trail back to the little babe, a blanket too big enveloping a fragile form constructed of ivory skin and silver hair. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips, uncharacteristic of me, as my hand pushed forward towards the cradle but immediately withdrew. Viserys caught sight of my action and he hums.

"Do you wish to hold her?'' He asks as he curiously gazes at me.

''Of course'' I say immediately, cursing myself for being so eager at the prospect of holding in my arms my second niece. With much care, my brother picked up the enormous blanket that cupped inside the future of our House, the womb that would carry on our lineage into the centuries. I take the small babe from his arms, placing the blanket in the crook of my elbow, my eyebrows furrowing upon realizing how small she is. ''Gods she is small,'' I whisper and Viserys chuckles.

''Truly, she appears to be the epitome of Old Valyria. Skin too pale, hair too silver, frame too small-''

''Gods you don't believe this is that?'' My voice held an edge to it as my brother was quite the believer in songs, especially the one of Ice and Fire. I understood where his words directed him, the promised Prince/ss. I scoffed as my gaze moved to the babe's small face. An even more powerful surge of devotion rose inside of me upon seeing her, the button nose, the soft pale lashes and the traits of our Valyrian ancestors dancing across her small face. ''Have you named her brother?'' I ask in an attempt to change the conversation as I swore if he would speak again of that bloody song I would unsheath Dark Sister and slice his head off. Viserys opened his mouth to speak but Aemma caught up to him.

''Visenya,'' she whispered tiredly from the bed, her head lolled to the side as a smile played on her lips upon watching me and her husband carefully acting along a small babe.

''Visenya,'' I murmured absently as my tongue rolled out the name that I would speak for the rest of my life, a name that would brand on me with such force that it would leave its print into the history of our House. ''Truthfully a better name than yours brother,'' I joke and Viserys barks out a laugh, knowing that the little babe's name was an interpretation of his.

It was in the cusp of such an intimate moment, that the future of the Realm changed. King Viserys obsession with the song of Ice and Fire, was well known as he was the sort of believer Targaryen, one that wished and hoped unlike me, a more indifferent soul. My life was one of chaos, a fight between my urges and my wants, between doing what i wanted and doing what was right for my family, the battle ongoing inside my young self, a battle that I would carry on for most of my life. Little did I know how the Old Gods played out my life, setting each piece in an order as to achieve our own purpose, an order I never wished to follow, until I held Visenya in my arms for the first time.