The Unburnt

Chapter 26 - Combat

I DO NOT KNOW A RATS ASS ABOUT SWORD FIGHTING, SO BEAR WITH ME!

I thank those of you who have voted on my poll. I am a little bloodthirsty today, why shall I lie, especially because I have one thing in mind that is a bit of a "hit or miss", you will either love it or hate it but, hey, I warned you all time again that this story is about happy Daemon+Visenya (as much as it can be possible, this is, Westeros after all, tragedy is at every corner).

AND WE HAVE A REFERENCE FROM A CERTAIN EPISODE, HENCE THE COVER OF THIS CHAPTER 🤣

And ON A SIDE NOTE, did you know that when eagles mate they do this thing where they lock talons and they spiral towards the ground, as a show of faith? It is a form of courtship! I DID NOT FUCKING KNOW AND I TOOK INSPIRATION FROM IT AND also from the episode where Vhagar fought Meleys. I link a video of how eagles spiral, so you can imagine the same thing between Vhagar and Caraxes, only if I could somehow animate something like this:

You tell me if this isn't some majestic shit.

High Valyrian in bold.

Visenya Targaryen

The guards lead me through the towering halls of the Red Keep, each step echoing with the weight of the moment, their hands wary and careful as if my mere presence might ignite something far more dangerous than fire. I can sense their hesitation, knowing well who my husband is. Daemon Targaryen is not a man to be trifled with. He is a storm contained within flesh and bone, a force of nature who would burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash if ever I were taken from him.

His name, the Rogue Prince, was given by his well known nature, his restless nature and need for bloodshed, chaos and whatever he most deeply desires.

And now, here we stand on the precipice of fate. Of prophecy.

I am given the choice of champion, though there was never a doubt in my mind. Daemon. Of course, it is him. He who has stood beside me through every trial, every tribulation. He is my sword and my shield, the embodiment of strength I have always needed. My husband steps forward, his gaze never leaving mine, and I nod.

Across the hall, Rhaenyra chooses Ser Harwin Strong. A formidable swordsman, no doubt, but no match for Daemon. Even so, for a fleeting moment, I feel the creeping tendrils of fear wrap around my heart. What if something goes wrong? What if the Gods favor Harwin, and I am left alone in this world? A life without Daemon is no life at all. I would burn these realms to the ground with Vhagar's flames, as Aegon the Conqueror once did, before I would allow that to happen.

The courtiers begin to part, the guards pushing the nobles back, forcing them to make room for what is to come. Both champions will fight one-on-one with swords, just as they are presented in their clothing, the midlle of the Throne Hall now empty leaving the two of them staring at eachother, on my fathers right stand Rhaenyra and I on the left. I watch as they clear a space in the center of the Throne Hall, where the combat will take place. Even those forced back gather at the entry, their eyes hungry for the spectacle. The lords and ladies of the court, all eager to watch blood spill, eager to see the fate of their supposed future queen decided by the sword.

Or they are all eager to finally speak plainly, as they wished to do so for years.

Daemon stands tall, his silver hair gleaming in the light filtering through the high windows. He is not a man of his years; though he is forty-six namedays old, he moves with the grace and swiftness of one half his age. His lean figure is one to be envied, loved by me every night. The ladies at court understand what a treasure it is to have Daemon Targaryen share a bed with me every night. The whores sure miss him. Although I have known him for taking walks at night in the villages at Dragonstone, and although I have not heard any whispers of his whereabouts during his walks, he always came back, in the same clothing, looking normal, yet he always asked the maids to draw a bath before he laid next to me in bed. That matters not.