The Unburnt

Chapter 2 - Small Council

Daemon Targaryen

As the years passed and the two Princesses grew, the court seemed to be somewhat coming to terms with the fact that a woman might rule the Seven Kingdoms after many years in which the congregation of these lands forgot that matriarchal societies existed. Yet the majority still held a hint of contemplation regarding whether the Kingdom would benefit or not from such a predicament.

While Rhaenyra was now eight name day's old, she was temperamental, like a little dragon that hatched a whole time ago and sought after the fire that reigned her blood. My brother always used to tell me how she and I share the blood of the dragon, that she is as restless as I have also been in my childhood.

Viserys acted like he was a hundred name days old, always behaving as if he had seen it all and somehow he became the wiser. The man never went to war, never commanded men into battles let alone go head first into any danger. The ''peaceful'' king they called him, for me he was the Fearful King, afraid of starting wars to defend what he believed in, while opting for sweeping things under the rug in the hopes that if tension arises in the future someone else would help him. I grunt to myself while leaning on the back of my chair.

Yet another boring meeting of the Small Council where that excuse of a man tried all his less worth to crawl into the Royal Targaryen family. Of course, Otto Hightower was one to never back away from making his opinions known under the pretense of the 'realms desires'.

The members of the repetitive gathering were as it goes, King Viserys, my brother; his cunt of a Right Hand Otto Hightower; Grand Maester Mellos, a man who should have been relieved of his duty and head a long time ago; and Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, a man who might I add was in need of his very own supply and farmland of moons tea as he currently had twenty-four children under his belt. No wonder the Lord preferred the confines of the small Council chamber, who wouldn't as to evade such travesty that his house hoards.

I never was kin of children, of people in general, as I never fought to understand the constant need to relish in another's presence, if it wasn't for the simple pleasure of killing or fucking them. But that did not extend to the family I cared for. I was loyal to my brother and his family, especially of the two young girls who soon would have to step into the cruel world we lived in, a world that occasionally favored women, even of their titles.

My protection was focused now on the four name days old Visenya who clung to my leg, her little arms encircling it under the knee, her cheek pressed to it as moments earlier her young temper flared, the blood of the dragon boiling inside her at moments, precisely when I was near her as in general, she was quite the shy flower, never making eye contact, never speaking to people, never playing with other children at court.

The young Princess wanted her kepus --uncle-- to read her a story and even if explained of the duties that had to be met, she did not care as she started wailing uncontrollably until I yanked her up and held her closer to my chest making a pact: if she kept quiet, during the evening I would read her the story about Aegons Conquest in our old mother's tongue.

"Kepus," Visenya murmured --uncle-- in that young sing-song voice of hers that melted my heart each time I heard her speak. She looked at me with pleading eyes, amethyst glimmering in the soft light of the candles as her tears threatened to spill. Seven Hells how could she be so shy and dainty towards everyone else but this side of hers always seemed to skip me.

"Ao iksos dōrilaros ,nyke ēdrugon istin. Hm?" I hush to her in High Valyrian --if you keep quiet, I will read you the story as promised--, my voice soft. She nodded as she continued looking at me with those eyes that seemed to be swallowed by unshed tears, now turning slightly red.