The Flames We Bear

Chapter 7 - Visenya

The morning light filtered through the tall, arched windows of my chambers, casting soft, golden rays over the room. Maids bustled around me, tugging and fastening the intricate layers of my wedding gown. The dress was heavier than I expected, a cascade of gold and white with hints of deep red embroidery that matched the Targaryen sigil embroidered at the hem. It felt like a cage, a reminder of the union that was to come—a marriage not for love, but for duty, for power.

A mixture of dread and determination coiled in my chest. The thought of him—of that taunting smirk, of the cold gleam in his eye—sent a shiver down my spine. But I had agreed to this. I knew what was expected of me.

I couldn't decide whether I felt more like a dragon or a lamb being led to slaughter.

As I adjusted the heavy fabric draped across my shoulders, I caught sight of my mother, Rhaenyra, standing by the window. She gazed out at the city below, her expression distant, worry etched across her brow. This wasn't how she had imagined my future, I knew. Not like this.

She turned to me with a soft smile, though I could see the hesitation behind her eyes. There was a bittersweet edge to her expression, a mother watching her only daughter prepare for a life that neither of us had fully chosen.

After a long moment, she walked towards me, her eyes soft but filled with the weight of unspoken fears. She approached, her footsteps light against the stone floor, and adjusted a strand of my hair.

"You look beautiful," she murmured, though there was something bittersweet in her voice.

I offered a small smile, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "I look like a woman on her way to war," I muttered, only half-joking.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile, though I could see the sadness lurking behind her eyes. "Marriage is not a battlefield, Visenya."

I raised an eyebrow at her, my expression one of disbelief. "Isn't it? Especially when it's to Aemond 'One-eye' Targaryen?"

She sighed, stepping closer to adjust the folds of my gown. I caught her watching me in the mirror as my hair was braided into intricate knots, and I couldn't resist the urge to lighten the moment. "If these braids get any tighter, I may not survive long enough to make it to the ceremony."

She chuckled softly, stepping closer to adjust a strand of hair that had fallen loose. "You've survived much worse, my sweet girl."

I met her gaze in the mirror and smiled, though it felt thin, fragile. There was so much left unsaid between us—so many fears and uncertainties hanging in the air. Today wasn't just about the marriage; it was about the beginning of something much larger. A game of thrones, a dance of dragons.

As if sensing the weight of my thoughts, my mother's expression shifted. She hesitated, her fingers stilling for a moment before she spoke. "Visenya, there is something we must speak of... something every woman must know before her wedding night."

Oh, gods.

I groaned inwardly, rolling my eyes as dramatically as I could. "Mother, please. If you're about to tell me what I think you are..."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in amusement. "You may be my daughter, but that does not mean you know everything."

I smirked, trying to dispel the tension that suddenly hung between us. "Well, considering I've grown up in a household filled with men—Daemon, Jace, and Luke—I think I've pieced together enough about 'marital duties.'" I made a face, causing my mother to laugh despite herself.

"Oh, I see. You think a few crude jokes from your brothers have adequately prepared you for marriage?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do tell me more, Visenya. I'm eager to hear your profound wisdom on the subject."

I couldn't help but grin, my shoulders relaxing as I leaned back slightly, watching my reflection in the mirror. "Well, for starters, it seems like an overcomplicated affair for the sake of an heir." I waved a hand dismissively. "How hard can it be? Lie still, get it over with, and hope it's brief."

My mother snorted with laughter, the sound ringing out unexpectedly. She reached out and gently pinched my arm. "You are terrible, you know that?"

I laughed with her, grateful for the lightness that had crept back into the room. "I am, but it's true, isn't it?"

"Well," she said, sobering slightly as she looked at me, "marriage is not just about heirs. It can be... more than that. A partnership, perhaps." Her voice softened as she spoke. "But I won't pretend it's always easy. Especially in this union."

I sobered at her words. The mention of the marriage felt like a dark cloud descending over the moment again. Aemond Targaryen. The thought of him twisted something deep inside me—a strange mix of anger, intrigue, and an undeniable sense of challenge.

"I know," I murmured. "Aemond and I... we have our differences." That was putting it lightly, of course. "But I'll do what I must."

My mother brushed her fingers gently through my hair one last time. "I wish things were different for you, my love," she said quietly, her voice thick with unspoken sorrow. "But you are brave, and you are clever. No matter what happens, remember that Aemond is not the only one with Targaryen blood in his veins. You are a dragon, too. Do not forget that."

I turned to face her fully, taking her hand in mine. "I will remember, mother," I said, a soft resolve in my voice. "I won't let them break me."

She smiled, her hand squeezing mine. "Good. You are my daughter. No matter what happens, you will rise."

The maids finished dressing me, and as I stood in front of the mirror, I took a deep breath, steadying myself. Today, I would be wed to Aemond Targaryen, a man who had hated me since we were children. But I would not be cowed. I would not let him—or anyone—define my fate.

I looked at my reflection one last time. My long brown curls were perfectly braided, my skin glowing under the soft light, and my gown—a symbol of the power and legacy of House Targaryen—fit perfectly. 

As the maids finished, I stood, smoothing out the fabric and straightening my spine. I was a Velaryon by birth, a Targaryen by blood, and today, I would begin my part in the dance.

I was ready.

It was time to face my future, dragonfire and all.