High Valyrian in bold.
Daemon Targaryen
127 AC
The quiet of the night settles like a warm cloak over our chambers. Visenya lies draped against me, her head resting on my navel, her fingers tracing idle patterns along my chest, her skin a soft glow in the dim light of the hearth. We lay entangled in the aftermath of love, and her eyes are fixed on mine with a depth of feeling that makes my heart twist painfully, a feeling akin to loyalty but sharper, fiercer—a adoration tempered in fire.
The corner of my lips tilt up as a soft, gevie, brushes past my lips, her doe eyes locking on mine.
"Daemon," she murmurs, her voice low, as if afraid to disturb the night. "I do not know what lies ahead for us—what this crown, this realm, may ask of you. But there are things I would ask of you, that I would have you hold close, even if you forget all else. Please, don't let the power consume you and make you forget your own family."
Her words come with an earnestness that makes me pause, makes me listen in a way I am rarely given to do. She lifts herself, pressing a soft, warm palm against my chest as if to brand her thoughts into my very heart. Many times does she remind me of not letting the power blind me from what it truly is important in life. I'm not Viserys, I wish to say.
"You have hungered for the throne," she continues, her gaze unwavering. "I know it well, have seen the way ambition flares within you. But you are not Maegor, Daemon. If you were, you'd have taken my father's life by now, or at the very least, his children's, I and Rhaenyra." She pauses, giving me a look as if to drive the point home. "But here we are. All of us alive. And Rhaenyra... she is likely somewhere in her chambers, weeping, licking her wounds. And I have been fortunate enough to wed you and give you children, healthy and sturdy. And many male heirs."
It is rare, this open vulnerability, and something in me stirs as she continues, her voice breaking slightly.
"Remember that you are my husband, my protector, my lover—the father of our children. You are the only man I allow to rest between my thighs and into my heart." Her voice quivers as her fingers clutch at my chest. "If we were stripped of all of this, if the realm turned its back on us, if we were left to scrape a meager existence on the Stepstones, with naught but a shit-stained hut to shelter us and these worn clothes on our backs... I would still choose you, Daemon. I would always choose you. For I was made for you, just as you were made for me. I beg, remember this when the time comes."
Her words fall between us like a vow, a binding oath in the dead of night, and for a moment, I am left speechless, undone by the depths of her devotion, her fierce loyalty. I gather her close, feeling her tremble, feeling the weight of her words settle over me.
Yes, of course I have always wished to be considered heir, as I was the only living male heir of Viserys, and my brother's health took an abrupt turn in the past years. But I also cherish what I have with Visenya, as she has been a devoted wife and mother, and even if she has grown into a lovely woman, some days that shyness makes itself known, just as I saw how hard she tries to tame her temper. I've watched her grow, knowing her ways and even after six children and ten years of marriage, no matter how hard I tried to coerce her out of her fucking ways, for as loyal as devoted as my wife was, she only trusted herself.
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The Unburnt
RomanceVisenya Targaryen x Daemon Targaryen Visenya Targaryen, second of her name, is the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma. The King believed that she was the Princess that was Promised. ''The princess may be part of an ancient prophecy whic...