Author's Notes: Written for the asoiafkinkmeme prompt: "Viserys, dub/con, underage, prostitution. Viserys sold himself long before he sold his sister to Drogo. He did it for safety, for shelter, and because once he'd sold his mother's crown he really had nothing left.
Often the people with whom he sought shelter wanted either him or Daenerys, but he couldn't bring himself to do that to his sister. The problem was every time he whored himself to a temporary protector and every time he hid it from his sister found himself hating Dany, more and more, and losing more and more of the boy who had once done everything to protect her."
Warnings: Prostitution, underage, dub/noncon, child abuse, child grooming, misogyny, possibly others because this thing is just a bucketload of them, so like, be careful.
Dany is half-asleep on the step once he comes back out, knees still shaking no matter how he tries to tell them not to, a king must stand proud (and they have no reason to, this was an easy night – the man didn't want anything more than his mouth, although he doesn't think that will last). "Dany?" And her violet eyes look up at him, wide and puzzled. Naive.
"Is the man going to let us stay tonight?"
"He will. Every night for a week." And I expect to see you before bed every night. He smiles at Dany, and she smiles at back. "This man knows when I come into my crown, he will be justly rewarded."
When I come into my crown I will have this man's skin peeled from his flesh, his limbs fed to wild dogs, and his cock roasted and eaten. He says that to Dany every time, and she nods and is oh so thankful, oh so polite, to their hosts. He sees the way some of these men look at his little sister, sweet Daenerys only seven years old, and in his mind he creates new tortures for the men whose beds he sleeps in.
(She's a beauty, that one. Are you sure you want to be here?)
Dany reaches for his hand to help but herself up, and his legs almost give way under the extra weight. "Don't!" he shouts, not wanting her to see him so weak, and she jumps back. That's Dany. "Come on. He has a nice warm bed. Aren't you tired, little sister?"
She nods. You have no idea.
Viserys leads Dany inside and towards one of the guest rooms (not the same one he was just in, thank the gods.) She smiles at him as he tucks her in. "Will you tell the man thank you for me?" she asks, and then yawns. "I don't think I have the energy to go do it myself."
I will tell the man thank you for you. I will tell every man thank you for you, you stupid little bitch. "Of course," he says, reaching across to tuck her silver-gold hair behind her ear – perhaps tugging too hard. Her hair is darker than mine. It's almost yellow. "Get some sleep, Dany. Our gracious host and I have a few things to discuss."
If he gives it to the man twice in one night, they'll probably get a more generous breakfast. He wonders if she is going to say something, like goodnight or I love you, but she doesn't, she just drifts off, for a second looking every inch the princess she was born to be – wrapped in silken sheets that protect her more fiercely than any armour ever could.
When he returns for two hours later, she is fast asleep – good, he does not want to have to make excuses for the scratches on his thighs and the clumps of hair missing from his scalp. Although she could not see either in the dark, and he will have to come up with some lie about the latter in the morning. How has the girl not figured it out yet? He knows she has seen the scar across his nipple. She tried to poke it once, and he grabbed her wrist and threw her aside, hard enough he left a bruise on her cheek.
(He screamed that time, he stayed brave as a king as the knife ghosted his lips, his neck, his throat, but as it tickled his chest he was terrified he'd be stabbed through the heart like his father was stabbed through the back. The man merely slapped him, said Shut up, do you want that brat you dragged into my parlour hearing you? and kept going.)
Viserys sighs as he buries himself, fully dressed, in the warm bed. Dany doesn't stir. He could never do this to Dany – she is too young, too innocent, she hasn't even bled yet. (But she will bleed one day. I will not. It is natural for a woman to do such things.) He still remembers his mother, gripping his hand hard enough to bruise, lying in her own blood and begging him to take care of a sister no-one expected to live more than a day or two. He remembers smiling and making promises, even as in her delirium, Mother called him Rhaegar (Rhaegar who brought this upon them, Rhaegar who abandoned them to run off with the Stark bitch, that Rhaegar).
He reaches out for Dany, and still in her slumber, she pulls away. He frowns. Of course, he cannot do this to Daenerys – she will be his wife one day. He has sold everything else he owns: the clothes off his back, his mother's crown, even his own body, but his sister's maidenhead is his.