Quotes

A massive ebony man was sprawled upon the bed in her chambers, naked except for a golden sheath over his manhood of proportional size, hairless from head to toe with muscles glistening with fresh oil.

Vira entered the room with some trepidation, to see the girl who would be Maekar's bride. It seemed like their meeting at Baelon Waters' wedding was very far away indeed, in a carefree time and place where nobody was betrothed to anyone else and Vira was not with child. She walked slowly, still recovering from her injuries in the Kingswood, but was dressed in a sober, well cut gown of lilac wool, her dark hair braided. She looked across at the other young girl with solemn blue eyes. Visenya looked dignified - proud and brave and pretty, yet also uncomfortable and nervous, and Vira could not blame her.

"My lady," she curtseyed, giving Visenya the respect due to the lady of the castle. "It gladdened my heart to see Silverwing fly up to the castle from the windows of the maester's chamber. You ride her like a Targaryen, as you should."

Visenya sat up straighter when she heard the door open and struck what she thought was a queenly pose. She looked down her nose at Vira, who was dressed as fit her station in a nice, but plain wool gown which contrasted strongly with Visenya's fine riding habit. At least Maekar wasn't trussing her up in fine silks and samites and letting her rule the castle in his lady's absence. She found the flattery absurd. Surely no one was glad to see her, or her dragon, showing up here. No, despite her rightful place at her lord's side, Visenya was an interloper.

"I suppose I must, being a Targaryen," she said drily. Her eyes lingered on her rival's midsection, trying to detect the swelling of the bastard inside her. "Aegerys is a fine beast. You did well claiming him."

"You are kind to say so, my lady," Vira said. "It struck me that we have matching white dragons, a male and a female." She stopped sort of hinting at any attachment or bond between them that could spring from this coincidence, but it was clear to Visenya that Vira was trying to find a common ground.

Vira hesitated a moment, and then turned to Maekar. "My lord," she said formally, without any hint of intimacy or affection or anything improper. "Would you be so kind as to leave Lady Visenya and I to ourselves? If Lady Visenya is agreeable, of course." Vira's gaze flicked to Visenya, a questioning and gentle glance.

"Perhaps we have." The barest hint of a smile touched Visenya's lips. Targaryen smalltalk indeed; where others would speak of the weather, they spoke of dragons. Her heart beat faster when Vira suggested they speak alone. She tried not to let the panic show on her face, and kept her features composed. "I am sure she and I have much to discuss. Go on, I will be just fine." So much to discuss, like how it feels when you kiss my breast, she thought. Her fingers twitched in trepidation, but her smile stayed painted on.

Maekar stepped quietly outside, shutting the door behind him.

When the door was shut, Vira seemed to relax a tiny bit, and she gave Visenya a small smile. At seventeen years old, she was only a year old than Visenya, yet they were both women grown, and in a situation Vira had never found herself before in her life.

She came over to sit opposite Visenya. They were by the window, and sunlight streamed in through the glass. "I understand you must be nervous and scared, my lady," she said sympathetically. "I am as well. You must count yourself lucky. You are marrying a wonderful man, while I am promised to - well, I have not heard a great deal about Lord Rhaegar, and I am nervous at the prospect of wedding him myself. I promise I will do my best to be a kind wife to your brother."

"I'm not afraid," Visenya lied, clutching her wine goblet defensively in her lap. She gathered her courage and spoke firmly and in icy tones. "I am merely shocked by the continued presence of my brother's betrothed in the bed of my future husband. I would that you went elsewhere with your bastard's bastard, or had yourself dosed with tansy or whatever it is maesters use to get rid of such things." She drank, swallowing a huge gulp of wine that hurt her throat before continuing.

"As for Rhaegar..." she stopped. She didn't want to warn Vira off of him, not too much, but a warning was needed. "Rhaegar is a good man too, I presume. I know nothing of his dalliances, so at least he is discreet." Discreet or virginal. "His head is made of steel and stuffed with wool," she said before she could stop herself.

It seemed that Vira did not hear the insults that Visenya threw at her, nor the iciness in Visenya's voice, which she received with a polite smile. She listened attentively as Visenya spoke of Rhaegar, and giggled at Visenya's description of him. "Then you must be pleased that you are not intended to wed him. Is it not the Valyrian custom to web brother to sister? Like Aegon the Conqueror and his sister wives. Though the Conqueror also enjoyed polygamy - something few Targaryens have had the wisdom to do since then."

Visenya bit her lip. Hard. She wanted so badly for the peasant bitch to insult her in return. It was frustrating that she would be so kind. It was infuriating. Vira and Maekar must have compared notes or something, to both employ the same tactic of sugar and flattery...she looked into her cup and almost brought it to her lips, but she refrained. The wine was very strong, she realized, suddenly.

"Wisdom? I think not. Do you not pity Visenya, whose husband spent more nights with his other woman than with her? Does that not sound like a sad life?"

Vira's heart broke at those plaintive words, and the sight of Visenya's large, appealing eyes and how very vulnerable and alone and young she looked. It was not fair, she realized for the hundredth time, that these circumstances had been forced upon all of them. No maiden dreamed of going to her betrothed's house and being greeted by his mistress, whom he loved. Vira had been so lost in her own heartache that she had had little time or energy to consider Visenya's own pain, and now that she saw it as plain as day, she wanted to take Visenya in her arms.

"My dear Visenya," she said, her eyes soft, her voice full of tenderness. "I am truly sorry for this situation you have been placed in, even though I know I am too selfish and too deeply in love to relinquish my claim on Maekar entirely. You deserve better, as do I. But let us not see it as a sad life. Instead, let me be your friend, if you will allow me. A woman needs friends as much as she needs a husband, and I can be a powerful, faithful, and loving friend to you. When you are sad, I will hold you in my arms, or comb and braid your hair, or make you tea. When you are threatened I will defend you. And when you bear Lord Maekar a son, I promise I will not only honor your heir, but be a loving aunt to him. If you would allow it. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure."

Visenya stared at Vira, utterly dumbfounded. She put her glass aside, if only for something to occupy her hands. They shook, clattering the base of the goblet against the nearby table as she oh so carefully placed it down. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she demanded. "I want to hate you! Why won't you let me?" Visenya could no longer keep her carefully constructed expression of calmness on her face. She gave way to tears, which came hot and damp and sudden upon her cheeks.

Vira let her cry, giving her a cloth to wipe her tears with. She sat in silence while Visenya cried, without interfering. Visenya needed the room to rage, and to hate her, and it was wrong to deny her that.

Eventually she said, "I will not force you to love me, or even like me. You are allowed to hate me, and you have every reason to do so. I will not take that away from you. You are not forced to befriend me, but I want you to know that I bear you no ill will at all, and I just want to do everything I can to make it up to you for this arrangement that I am asking you to bear. You are a Targaryen, in direct descent from Aegon the Conqueror. You are no stranger to the idea of mistresses, or the idea of sister wives, but in our case it can be something that leads to friendship and strength, rather than discord and sadness."

No, in the end of Job's story I think he died miserable and alone… just to prove that God would do that to one of his own followers for no reason lol. Old Testament God was kind of a douche.

"Staying here would be no bad thing, it is a shame I love my husband to be though,"