The Unburnt

Chapter 24 - Calm before the storm

Now tell me why every single time I use the word strong I think of Ser Harwin? God Damn. Visenya took to heart that vision of hers *wink, wink*. And yes there are a few more members to come in to the 'Visenya&Daemon' family. No wonder Viserys was always skeptical of the union, which is truly stupid because these two are the only ones who have not shat on their duties? Mmm-hello?

Also Daemon being Daemon.
An the politicking? That has to be some top shit💫 And also insecure+soft Daemon. And an insight of what Visenya feels towards her eldest sister Rhaenyra.

117 AC Daryon (from Darys in High Valyrian which means 'King')

118 AC Vezenys (stillborn) (from Vezos in High Valyrian which means 'sun')

120 AC Daemalia (from Demalion in High Valyrian which means 'throne')

122 AC Darones (from Darone in High Valyrian which means 'royal')

124 AC Eglyana (from Eglie in High Valyrian which means 'high/good/superior')

High Valyrian in bold.

Visenya Targaryen

124 AC summer

I lay on the mattress of our shared chambers, my body still weak from the birth of my latest child, Eglyana. Giving birth is a tiring thing—more so when your hopes are set on a son, and yet another daughter is born. I am thankful for all of my children, yet I knew the importance of boys in a family.

The pain of labor is fleeting, but the sting of burden lingers longer, as if the gods themselves pull down on my shoulders, knowing what I must do to ensure the thriving of our House. Sometimes it feels as if, Maegors shadow loomed over me. Kin fighting kin.

I know our Gods would never allow such thing, as I will not allow my older sister to act with impunity while her bastards are heirs to a throne that only true Valyrians should sit upon, a Targaryen, just like I have seen in my vision.

Ever since Vezenys, my stillborn boy, came into the world in 118 AC, a dark shadow has loomed over my heart. His memory haunts me like a specter in the quietest moments, and though I try to bury the fear deep within, it always resurfaces. What if one of our children were to perish again? That thought gnaws at me constantly. Daryon is our oldest boy, and his position is already precarious, fraught with the dangers that come with being the firstborn male heir.

I have become fiercely protective of him, especially now that he has taken quite an interest in Vermithor, always bringing goats and sheep along with his father, Daemon guiding him on how to interact with the old mount. Seeing my seven-year-old son soar with his father on Caraxes brings pride and fear in equal measure. Daemon, ever the doting father, has encouraged Daryon's love for flying, though my heart clenches every time they vanish into the clouds.

The weight of motherhood feels heavier now. I am tired—more tired than I have ever been after labor. Eglyana's birth was one of the most difficult I have endured; the babe was heavier even than Daryon.

I laughed with Daemon, joking that she must have inherited his head, for it felt as though she tore her way through me. The memory still brings a weary smile to my face, though the ache in my bones lingers.

Daemon sits by the fire now, cradling our newborn daughter in his arms, his voice low as he sings that same song—Hāros Bartossi. He has always been obsessed with that old Valyrian lullaby, singing it to each of our children before bed.

I watch him as he rocks Eglyana, his strong hands—hands that have wielded a sword in battle countless times—now cradling a babe so tenderly. It is an endearing sight, and one that warms my heart. He is forty-three name days now, my Daemon, and I am only twenty-three name days old.