Viserys stared at the bundle in the girl's arms before directing his gaze to Ser Willem. The older man's clear blue eyes were smiling, so he smiled back, unsure of what to do.

"Would you like to hold her, my prince?" questioned the man.

Viserys hesitated for only a moment before he nodded, coming closer to the Bravosi chambermaid and peering down in between soft, white swaddling clothes to find a sleeping baby, a living porcelain doll.

"Daenerys," he said softly, trying her name out on his tongue, and suddenly she was in his arms. He had never held her before, had never dared to, really, and she was nearly seven months now. He lied to himself that it was because he was angry at her for causing their mother's death, but in truth, Viserys was afraid.

When his mother had died, a part inside of him had broken apart, his heart finally shattering completely after losing the last person he had loved. His brother, his father, then his mother; all gone. And then there was Daenerys.

He had avoided looking at her during the long sea voyage with Ser Darry, instead leaving her to her milk maid and falling deep into his thoughts. They were dark thoughts for a nine year old to have, thoughts of revenge, fire and blood, thoughts of destruction. Viserys liked to fancy himself a true dragon like his brother Rhaegar; he felt the fire burning inside his veins, warning him of a dangerous destiny, but one which he would surely have to follow someday in order to restore his rights to the Iron Throne.

The truth was that Viserys was dreadfully afraid of failing. He was afraid of losing someone he loved all over again, so a part of him pushed him away from Daenerys, away from her greedy, chubby fingers and plump, rosy cheeks. But now he had given in, and there would be no hope of ever turning back.

The moment he looked into his baby sister's eyes, Viserys knew he had found a new reason to live, a new reason to believe in a future where he would be king of Westeros, as was his right. Her eyes were slightly darker than his, a warm violet in color. Despite the Targaryen features his entire family shared, Viserys didn't think she looked anything like him, but rather, he was reminded of Rhaegar every time he chanced a gaze on her. She reminded him of his mother, as well.

Anger started to suddenly bloom inside of him like a malevolent weed, and he was about to push the bundle of heartache back into the girl's arms when Daenerys smiled up at him, her eyes lighting up and dimples forming in her cheeks, pudgy fingers raised towards him expectantly. Stunned and slightly awed, he chanced a look up at Ser Darry, but the man only offered an encouraging smile, wrinkles forming at the corners of his soft eyes.

"She likes you, your grace" commented their protector in an amused, fatherly tone. "She won't break, you know." Viserys blinked, realizing he had been standing very stiffly, angling her body away from his so that she was barely touching him. But he relaxed his muscles now, pulling her closely so that his chin rested on top of her head, one of her tiny hands finding his own and grasping a finger tightly. He rubbed his chin against the top of her head and then lowered his head to kiss her. When his lips pressed against the smooth, warm skin of her cheek, Viserys felt goose bumps erupting all over his body, the emotion of the moment pressing in on him from all sides until he was left without a choice; give in now, or stay away forever.

Viserys gave in to the baby bundled in his arms, opening his heart to her and feeling the love and joy emanate off of her body, pressing her to him and holding her as close as he dared to without hurting her. It was for this small, wondrous creature that he had to win back his crown, not just for himself. He had been cheated out of a crown, yes, but so had she he now realized. They had both been cheated out of a different life, a better life, a life where they wouldn't have to fight for what was rightfully theirs.

Her tiny hand came up to rest against his face, and then she grabbed hold of a lock of his hair, pulling slightly and squealing in delight, her cheeks flushing brightly. The nine year old boy chuckled, allowing her this small amount of fun; deep down inside the young prince was grateful she had taken to him so quickly after never spending time with him since her birth.