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"… As my weary hand grasps once more this ink-ridden glass pen, I enter on this finest of summer days in this most blessed month of Viseryx the first words that shall make up the fourth of this collection of mine, the fourth on what I plan to be fifteen, that I shall only consider complete upon my sire's death, Gods willing it still long eludes us.
The Emperor Viserys, my father, even before he had cast his indigo-eyed gaze upon the lands of the East, had always held a thorough fascination for the last lands of our forebears. In fact, it has been the custom of my contemporary historians to compile a definitive recollection of his interest upon those Eastern lands, though their efforts were doomed to remain as fledgling as a hatchling facing the numbing, raw chill of winter at its most earnest. These chronicles they pass off as full of candour all inherently lack the sincerity that my own work possesses; not for lack of trying, but for the fables, embellishments and falsehoods that mouths long jaundiced by a neglect from my grandfather, Aerion, and his son after him. These arrogant fools belie their own narratives for they often contradict, or coalesce, into a disorderly collection of unlikely tall tales that have begotten hearsay that reek of fabrication and fallacy.
Yet, as is my mission to lay bare the most fervent of truths in this text of mine, I, Daenys, firstborn daughter of Emperor Viserys and Empress Rhaenys, born and bred in the Purple, having read many of these spiels, hope to shed holy light upon the travels of my father, starting from the travels of his youth wherein he chose to mark his ascent to manhood with a tour of the heretofore known Free Cities of Essos, once colonies of the Freehold entangled in a seemingly never ending struggle for power, the foremost of them being vain Volantis, the self-proclaimed First Daughter of Valyria.
Agonise not over the later conflicts that Viserys spearheaded in the East whence the hubris of the False Daughters, bolstered by the blighting of the Blasted Lands, led them to think above their stations. The 'Turning of the East' is, in itself, worthy of its own book, for the ruination of the once-stable ties between the Kingdom of the Sunset and the stretched-thin Volantene Empire was not engendered within the span of a few heartbeats as those deceivers of the lesser flesh seek to cajole you into accepting to be the unvarnished truth. Nay, let us turn to the travels of the man of six-and-ten who eventually became the ubiquitously named Vanquisher, accompanied by his trueborn cousin and later Navarch of his noble fleet, and his bastard born yet devotedly loyal half-brother. The stories speak so oft of a stolen kiss from the lips of Elaena Maegyr, loveliest of the Black Walls, of the Triarchs' prostration upon the sight of the Bronze Dragon and the return of the rightful heirlooms of my blessed House to my father, the seedlings in whose fruit our arts and culture further flourished to shed away the broad sheet of barbarity that plagued the lands of the West. Truths there are there indeed so my father says, but grotesque exaggerations from these tellers of falsehoods as well. They spew out the words of ignorant lowmen, of burdened slaves, and of jealous mummers prancing around as scions of noble and pure Valyrian flesh, desecrating the ever faithful, ever noble image of my father in hopes of furthering their own callous agenda of self-aggrandisement. The Gods themselves know that these lies are few and distrusted amongst the good people that serve our glorious empire, their hearts now purged of dissent and perfidy that plagued their evil barbarian ancestors, some of whom may vainly consider their distortions to be more akin to flattery than falsehood. Yet, my task sets out to correct even the smallest of disingenuity and to unravel the whole truths, the spoken words, and the people behind these stories.
Know this that, I, Daenys, write of the words spoken from mine own father's lips, lips that ne'er have babbled out falsehoods or fallacies, and thus I shall relay upon you the truest account of his first journey eastward upon this fourth book of mine…"
- Excerpt from Book 4 from the historical text Of Viserys written by Her Imperial Highness, the Princess Daenys Targaryen, daughter of Emperor Viserys I and Empress Rhaenys of the Noble Targaryen Lineage
"… And o' my dearest sister and wife, my sweet Rhaenys, Queen of my heart, Queen of my soul, and Queen of my Kingdom, fairest of all lands known and unknown to man, and, I say so earnestly and in utmost sincerity, my superior in every aspect,
Know this, that all the heads - prosperous and penurious - shall roll at your behest and at my infinite gratitude, for daring to toast to the supposed sickly affliction and to the slanderous claims of bastardy of the fruit of our love and your labours, our beloved firstborn child and Purpleborn heir, our little Aerion, light of our lives.
The Gods will not fail us, my love, and neither shall I. My eyes will not find themselves closed until our son's eyes, so much like yours, be as lively as the dragon that will be his whence I return: red-and-gold his scales, as befit a future king of our blood.
This short period of separation wearies me even now, though I am but a short flight away. Yet every hour that trickles, I feel the ever present anxiety that my reputation has demanded I hide threatening to burst forth, to berate me for putting you in such a state, no matter your soothing words and sweet, delicate kisses. Childbirth is a battlefield only women are privy to, and for that alone, they are stronger, hardier than any man. You, my queen, have conquered armies and kings and the Gods themself, bringing new life with each heartbeat that passes o'er these lands and within our family. What but a goddess herself could do such a thing?
My goddess, my queen, my greatest strength,my closest friend, and the woman who gave me the world in the shape of a little boy with lilac eyes. The thought of you both brings about both smiles and tears as I write, for the gnawing worry still eats at me despite having seen to your care and betterment this past fortnight.
I can already hear your chiding words even now, so I will set aside such thoughts and deal with these ignoble beasts of the field with haste. And upon the swift wings of Vhagar, I swear I shall return to you dearest, to deal with the vipers that still nip at our heels.
I shall see to it that you may witness it yourself, my first, truest, and only love, that their wretched tongues be fed to their lying mouths and that Blackfyre's keen blade bears itself upon their unclean barbarian napes, to damn them for all eternity in the name of their vile perfidy…"
- Extract from a letter written by King Viserys I Targaryen to his Queen. Kept privately in the libraries of the Great Palace of Viserys, in the capital city of Visenys, set upon Rhaenys' High Hill
"… Dark Sister is more than just a consort's blade fit for a woman's hand. It is both the saviour of the first Father and his harbinger of destruction upon his foes. It is his first love, bestowed upon him at the age of two-and-ten by his sire, and then itself gifted upon his first and only love whence their marriage lay consummated and their souls lay as bare as their noble bodies.
It is the sister-sword of a king's blade - an Emperor's - yet it outshines even Blackfyre's awesome legend. Dark Sister is not a name; it is a promise. It demands its owners earn its trust. To make themselves worthy.
It is the sword of the daughters of Valyria…"
- Excerpt from A Short Discourse on the Histories of Valyrian Steel by Barazhad of Tyrosh
A/N: 10 of 21. One excerpt more to go.
