» 10/1/2020 - ivar x targaryen oc «
In the great City of Pentos, inside of the Magister's extravagant mansion, there was a young princess. Her hair, silver and silky, tumbling down her slim back in loose strands and untangled braids. She barely re...
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Even at night, Pentos was hot. When the sun was no longer searing and had sunk into the ocean's horizon, the earth was still warm from the constant burn, and the plants let out their humidity like wildfire. Sweat came out of every pore, and Visenya felt disgusted by the thick layer of it. It was nights like this that gave her no comfort and did not let her sleep.
Visenya sat up in her bed and fumbled with her white nightgown before giving up and letting it hang loose around her body. She now only stared at her thin bedsheets in thought.
Tomorrow, Daenerys will be married in the afternoon to Khal Drogo just outside the city walls and their fates will forever be set in stone. Daenerys will live a life of savagery and Visenya will live as her mother had, a miserable wife to a miserable king. Her own brother.
There was a time that Visenya once dreamed of marrying Rhaegar. To become his second wife just like Rhaenys had done with Aegon the Conqueror. But Visenya didn't want to marry him because of love or lust. She bore no romantic feelings for her older brother. Only admiration. Perhaps if he hadn't married Elia Martell and had died for some northern girl he had kidnapped, they might have been a content couple. They might have even been married now. But those were just fantasies. Rhaegar was dead. As was everyone else.
The door creaked open, and Daenerys poked her head inside. The youngest Targaryen looked relieved when she saw Visenya. "You're awake," she said, entering the room and closing the door softly behind her. "Viserys is drunk in the dining hall again."
Daenerys' room was only down the hall from there. Visenya always had let her sister know that she was welcome to join her in her chambers whenever Viserys was wreaking havoc with his whores and his servants and disturbing her slumber.
Visenya opened her arms and Daenerys rushed right in. Visenya ignored the stickiness of her own clothes connecting with her sweaty skin and dug her face deep into Daenerys' tresses. She still smelled of Dothraki perfume, and Visenya hated it.
"I don't want to marry him," Daenerys whispered, her voice broken against Visenya's breast as she held onto her tightly. "I don't want to marry anyone."
"Neither do I, sister," Visenya said, closing her eyes. "But it is our duty. To return home, we need alliances. To form alliances, they require marriage pacts or solidified promises; we both know Viserys has nothing to promise them but our hands."
"I know," Daenerys nuzzled closer, as if letting Visenya go was like losing her forever. "But he is terrifying, and I don't understand him. I don't want to live a life with a man who speaks to me through a translator."
"You'll adapt," Visenya reassured her, looking to the ceiling as she held her shaking sister. "You shall learn his language and his culture. You'll be a true Khaleesi, yet."
"I wish I were a man so I could marry you," Daenerys confessed, and Visenya could feel her sister's fingers fiddling with the back of her nightgown. "Then we can stay together forever."
