The Unburnt

Chapter 17 - Domestic

Thank you, for all the love🖤 I am so happy to know so many of you enjoy my story, *giggling and screaming*. You have given me purpose and I owe you all so much for bearing with me (and my mind who has way too many ideas, and little time to write or the patience). Enjoy this chapter🖤

Daemon Targaryen

The days at court were an endless boring, tideous, repetitive situations that if were not for my now family, my wrath would have engulfed the Keep. I leaned back in the chair, my eyes drifting to Visenya, who sat upon the bed, cradling our son Daryon in her lap. The boy, now five moons old, was the quiet sort, though his silence was deceiving. He gnawed upon the edge of a small wooden dragon, his tiny fists clenched tightly around it as if he meant to tame it himself. His eyes—pale and sharp as ice—were the mirror of my own, though his temperament took more after his mother. For now.

Visenya cooed softly to him, brushing a strand of silver hair from his face, her belly already swollen again with our second child. Pregnancy had done nothing to dull the fire that burned within her, though the realm would have her believe she was fragile. The girl they knew as shy and quiet had become something else entirely under my influence. A dragon, just like me.

Yet as I watched them, my family, I couldn't deny the knot of anger that tightened in my chest. The court, the whisperers in their gilded halls—they would never see us for what we truly were. To them, I was still the Rogue Prince, the shadow of Maegor the Cruel cast long over my name. They believed Visenya to be little more than a girl, too young to stand against me, too frail to carry the weight of our ambitions.

One rumor that I despised, was that I was using her, that my love for her was just a mean to an end, that my eyes were set solely on the Iron Throne. Little did they know that I was preparing the future and helping the Realm for their new Queen. They were fools to believe that my Visenya was a headless chicken, a meek young lady bending to the will of her husband.

If only they knew how many night I have kneeled before my wife, to please her and devote my love for her, with languid kicks of my tongue through her folds.

But they were wrong. They had always been wrong.

Daryon shifted in Visenya's lap, the small dragon toy forgotten as he reached for her hair, chewing on a strand with the kind of mindless determination that only babes possess. I smirked, watching him gnaw at it. "He's got the hunger of a dragon, even now," I murmured, rising from my chair and crossing the room to sit beside them.

Visenya smiled, her eyes soft as they met mine. "He's quiet but fierce. Like his father."

I snorted softly, running a hand through my own silver hair. "Let's hope he doesn't inherit all my traits. The world can only handle one Daemon Targaryen."

She laughed lightly, her voice a melody I could listen to for a lifetime. "And I, my love, am the only one who can handle you."

I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers, the familiar taste of her calming the ever-present storm that brewed in my veins. She was my peace, the one constant that made the chaos of court life bearable.

Even with her belly round and full once again, my appetites for her remained unchanged. If anything, her growing body only heightened the fire within me. The world outside our chambers did not understand us, but they did not need to. We knew what we were.

Daryon let out a small gurgle, dropping the strand of hair he had been chewing, as if in protest of the attention we gave one another. I chuckled, pulling back to look at our son. "Quiet, but always watching." With my fingers grab his little nose and our boy giggles.