The Unburnt

Chapter 9 - Valyrian Wedding

This chapter was almost too funny to make because all I could imagine was the scene from GOT where Stannis and Melisandre did it on the Painted Table. You will see what I mean, haha! Also I want to make the couple speak in High Valyrian, more than in ASOIAF, this is an AU so please be mindful of many changes! So there will be much text between Daemon and Visenya speaking High Valyrian, and as much as I like playing and translating some words (for myself more than anything as I imagine them speaking it), larger texts are a burden so the phrases will be in bold for High Valyrian, yet when they speak common tongue they will use words from their mother tongue!

Visenya Targaryen

Blood binding is an ancient Valyrian tradition, our predecessors used to marry not only under the careful watch of the old Gods, but they would use magic and blood to seal their fates. Daemon wields the dragon glass dagger to cut his palm, and I watched carefully for a reaction that didn't show on his beautiful pale face, amethyst eyes locked on mine. A blush crept on my cheek under his unnerving stare, as if cutting one's hand was a mere simple task. My eyes go to his neck, where a portion of his burned skin is on view, suddenly understanding that he has felt many pains in his life before, pains I perhaps didn't even know of and won't know of, only time would tell. 

My uncle was a closed book, if you were lucky enough he would allow you to read a few words, but I wished to read the entire book. Was I ready for that? Why did I agree to wed him, was it because of our traditions, my innate sense of duty to our Valyrian heritage, or my wish to rule the Seven Kingdoms? Whatever my reasoning was, I have never felt such a pull to another lord, the fire inside of him calling mine, his blood calling mine. My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp pain in my palm and I gasp.

''Pay attention little flower,'' his smooth voice makes my throat dry, nodding at his instruction, each of us takes our own blood on the thumb, bringing it to the opposite's forehead. He marks mine with the fire symbol, the one that rules our lives, that thrives in our veins, that will burn us on the pyre on the day of our deaths. I mark on his the symbol of blood, meaning that his bloodline will continue through the children we shall sire. 

Inside of me, a turmoil of emotions rocked, making my heart beat, I wished my sister Rhaenyra was here with us, to congratulate me or perhaps tell me how my wedding night shall unfold; for my mother Aemma to hold me dearly, murmuring soothing words in my ear as she caressed my head just like when I was a little girl; for my father to offer me to Daemon, meaning that I was no longer his to protect but under my now husband's protection. My lips trembled, tears gathering in my eyes, a sadness constricting my chest. If this had been a perfect world and mayhaps if I shall have been distinct, my family would be here with us, celebrating our union in marriage just as our ancestors would have wished.

''Ābrazȳrys, look at me, I am here'' Daemon's soft voice pulls me once again from my tirade of thoughts, nodding at his words yet again as my throat closes. ''You cut me first.'' He smiled and brought his face closer to mine, passing the dragon glass dagger into my hand. Even if it trembles slightly in my grip, I bring it to his lower lip and hold his gaze, pressing the blade, gently swiping it enough to draw blood. 

My eyes searched his as he mirrored my actions. He smiled down at me, one of those smiles that would make a cloudy day brighter, my fears dissipated, and my chest loosened up, the constriction of sadness carefully metamorphosing into warmth. Daemon dragged the dragon glass on my lip and I felt the sting, momentarily wondering why we have to go through so much pain in life. Setting the blade on the table near us, my uncle grabs my hand and squeezes it, as the Valyrian priest brings a cup of wine, holding it below our joined palms, blood silently dripping into the red liquid. 

The priest chanted the words of our ancestors, yet all I could feel and see was my uncle. I felt his heartbeat, his skin, his blood, realizing that this was how our House remained great through the century, a union as such held so much power, I felt his doubts, his fears, his nervousness, the chaos, the bloodthirst, the need, the dreams, the darkness. With the Valyrian words being spoken, I gave up, not knowing if what I felt were my emotions or his, but none of that mattered, as we were now one.