The Unburnt

Chapter 34 - On the edge of the precipice

I have officially written (I might modify because I like longer chapters but their are harder to write), two chapters of my new story, which I will probably publish once I have at least 5 chapters written in advance. This new story is also between Daemon and *surprise*, and it will also mix politicking and love, also Daemon is a total asshole in that story and you will hate/love him. And guess what? It is a green fic, because I want to explore his relationship between him and a certain green character because this has been on my mind for months, before I even started writing The Unburnt (I even made a bloody edit for it, a few actually, a girl is a lil' obsessed)

And we are almost at 50k reads? Yes, thank you al so much! 🖤
Now know that there is no weird phase between Daemon and Visenya, they are back to their horn crazy selves, but Daemon does seem a little wow-ed by the way Visenya acts so...ruthless? Well well, she now starts to live up to her name. Also cherish this chapter of Rhaenys and to all her fans, (I am one of them), she is a formidable woman and she deserved her moments of shine.

Big attention to Rhaenys, this woman was raised to be Queen, and her sudden interest in Visenya? The way she keeps her eyes on her, scrutinizing her? Well, this build up isn't for nothing, it will burst into flames eventually. (Quite literally.)

And we are getting closer to 129 AC and guess who has to kick the curb? Yup, our Vizzy. May he f*ck off already.

High Valyrian in bold.

Visenya Targaryen

128 AC

The hour is young, the early morning sun casting its bright light across the stone walls of my solar. The faint crackle of the hearth fills the room as I sit at my desk, the letter before me marked by the hand of one who chooses not to sign his name. Yet I know well who penned these words. Larys Strong's whispers are unmistakable, the ink as faint as the man himself.

I lean back in my chair, reading over the letter for what feels like the hundredth time.

"An army is rallied under Gerald Royce, gathered under the banner of loyalty to the Vale, though his true intent lies in upending Jeyne Arryn's claim. The High Road shall see this muster in a half moon's turn. Be forewarned, princess. There are fires one can light to quell such rebellion. The Guild of Alchemists is ever eager to trade in its riddles-for the right price and can make a fire that can float above water."

The words are venom, coiling about my mind as I weigh their implications. Gerald Royce, that ambitious fool, seeks to exploit the growing tension in the Vale. Surely my dearest sister believes that I will let her take what is rightfully ours, mine and Daemon's. Jeyne Arryn is a woman of strength, but the men who claim to serve her are vultures, circling for scraps of power, and Rhaenyra is no better. The Heir Who Never Was. I snort, the name that the common folk have bestowed her with is as hilarious as truthful. Lord Gerd dares to test Jeyne's mettle, and in doing so, he tests mine.

A sigh escapes my lips as I fold the letter with precise care, though my thoughts are anything but calm. I toss it into the hearth, watching as the flames devour the parchment, turning its whispers to ash. Larys Strong plays his game well, his riddles delivered with the subtlety of a dagger hidden beneath silk. His suggestion to involve the Alchemists stirs curiosity within me, wondering what those alchemists can offer than is better than dragonfire. A fire that floats above water.

I rise from my armchair, my slippered feet brushing against the cool stone floor. The shadows in the room seem to shift as I walk to the bell cord and give it a firm tug as if the Fourteen Flames are trying to stop me. But my grief now turns into pure anger. The chime echoes faintly, and within moments, the door creaks open to reveal one of my younger maids, a nervous thing with wide eyes that dart about like a frightened bird.