A warning: this is not a Dance of Dragons fic. It will have parts of this but it's focused on Viserys II and the pivotal moments in his life, so there will be leaps in time.

In the Shadow of the Throne

Getting Ready for the Dance

Technically, he was born in 123 AL. He knew his birth had been heralded and rejoiced in, that they had placed a dragon egg in his cradle, that everyone had come to know that the future queen had secured the Targaryen line once more. Still, he felt that his real life might have started when he was about six-year-old and queer things started to happen. It all began when his grandfather died and wouldn't come back, no matter how much Viserys begged and prodded him, and told him it was no longer funny. Behind him, his mother gasped with horror and shame and yanked him off, the rings on her fingers cutting into him painfully. Behind them, the court started talking. "My lord grandfather doesn't want to come back," Viserys tried to explain.

Rhaenyra's face was contorted in something he recognized as fury. "How dare you shame me so!" she hissed in a low voice. "What a disgraceful child you are! Your grandfather can't come back, Viserys. He's dead."

It was hardly the first time he heard that but it made no sense. When he and Aegon played at fighters, they killed each other and they came back each time. Why wouldn't his jovial grandfather he was so fond of do the same?

"The child's manners could use some improvement," a familiar voice said but Viserys couldn't remember whose it was. His mother looked up and her face went colder.

"When you have a son, dear brother," she spat, 'raise him as you would, by any means. But don't you dare tell me how to raise mine."

Young Aegon smiled a smile that Viserys did not like at all. He gave Rhaenyra a bow and went off. Viserys frowned – his uncle's bow had not been as deep as everyone else's was these days. By his mother's clenched jaw, he knew that she, too, had noticed.

A few days later, he heard the women in his mother's household whispering that there was a "rift" in the Small Council, that the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was rumoured to make some preparations of his own.

"He is a spurned man," they said, "and Her Grace should have known that he was never the one to take rejection lightly. Now, the crown on her head might depend on her ability to convince him to forgive the insult given."

And then one of them hissed, "Hush! The child, the little one, he's listening!"

They all fell silent as they saw him only a few steps from them, a little shadow in the alcove, all ears and attention.

A few days later, he was shaken awake quite roughly. When he opened his eyes, he saw it was still night. His half-brother Aemon loomed over him, the light of the single candle intensifying the purple in his eyes and making his hair more dark auburn. Viserys hadn't seen him in months and was about to throw himself at him when Aemon unceremoniously dragged him out of bed. "Where are your clothes?" he asked and at his tight, controlled voice Viserys felt terrified.

"Where are they?" Aemon asked, then looked around impatiently and wrapped Viserys in the first cloak he saw lying around, probably one of the servants.

"Aemon, what's…"

"Hush!" Aemon said. "Don't make a sound, Viserys. Whatever you see, don't make a sound. I'm taking you to Mother… but you must be quiet. Don't be afraid. I'm holding you. You're safe with me. Do you understand?" he added as he carried the boy, half-running down the hall.

In the dim light, Viserys' pale purple eyes shone with fear. He nodded empathically but said nothing. Aemon nodded, pleased. "That's a good boy. Remember, there is nothing to fear."

But there was. Viserys just didn't know what it was. Aemon carried him down a big staircase; Viserys lifted the edge of the cloak just enough to look around. Knights, lords, ladies and handmaidens, the members of his household, the members of his mother's household – they were all descending the stairs in a run. In their arms, they carried bags, boxes, and caskets. Many of the women were weeping but silently.

"Hurry up!" someone prompted but softly. Viserys recognized Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard. Why did he look so sad? Why was everyone so scared? He opened his mouth to ask, then remembered Aemon's order and closed it again.

Suddenly, Ser Arryk was now next to them, holding his hands out. "I'll take the boy, Your Grace," he said.

Viserys shook his head against his brother and clung to him. "He stays with me," Aemon said, although his arms must be aching now. Viserys was such a big boy now. Everyone said so.

"Her Grace ordered that we meet her as soon as possible," the white knight said.

"I know," Aemon whispered back. "I'm coming from her."

Were they all going to see his mother? But that was not the way for the throne room.

Soon, they were out of the protective shadow of the Red Keep. The pale moon cast a shimmering veil over them, a few clouds obscured their vision. Viserys was now cold but he knew that if he said that, there was nothing Aemon could do.

His brother was anxious to get as far away as possible. Pale-faced stable hands brought them horses and Aemon threw Viserys on one of them and jumped behind him. Something was queer there – the hooves of so many horses made no noise at all. And they were headed for a smaller gate and not the barbican.

When they were out, Aemon sighed and urged his horse forward, in a different direction to what the others were taking. Ser Arryk, a few other knights, and Rhaenyra's closest attendants followed.

Suddenly, the stallion came to a halt. Aemon looked back, at the castle they had just… fled? Viserys couldn't comprehend it. Targaryens did not flee, yet that was what they had done. With Mother's knowledge.

Aemon's dark, handsome face twisted in fury Viserys had never known before. He clenched his fist and shook it at the Red Keep, at someone Viserys did not know. "We'll be back," he vowed. "We'll be back and you'll pay, traitor. You will pay with all you have."

Without adding a word, he spurred the horse. It was hard to see ion the darkness, but the road soon started climbing and by the smell greeting them, Viserys knew they were going for the Dragonpit. As always, his excitement grew.

Rhaenyra stood in front of her Syrax' cell. Her attire was in disarray, her hair singed – the dragons were obviously uneasy with so many visitors they didn't know at once and puffed smoke incessantly despite being constantly ordered not to. This was the first time Viserys saw his mother without any jewels but her rings. Her ladies surrounded her and Ser Marel of the Kingsguard was looking around vigilantly, his sword ready. Aegon stood slightly aside with a few knights. Aemon released Viserys and the boy ran to Aegon while Aemon went for their mother and they started talking in urgent voices.

"What happened?" Viserys asked.

His brother looked distraught. Did he understand what was happening? He looked to know more than Viserys. "Uncle Aegon falsified our lord grandfather's will," Aegon said, leaving Viserys stunned with so many words he didn't know. "He'll be proclaimed King first thing in the morning. He stole Mother's crown."

"Oh." Viserys looked at his mother. There was no crown on her head or in her hands, for sure.

"We're leaving," Rhaenyra said. Her castellan, Ser Tollas Whitewood, was now beside her. Her eldest son was standing before the stall of his own dragon. "We'll fight him on the battlefield. But right now, we stand no chance. We'll gather our forces and push the usurper from his stolen throne. But now, we must go."

"Harrenhall is our best bet, Your Grace," Ser Tollas agreed. "And we must leave immediately, your sons and yourselves before everyone else."

"Are we running away?" Viserys asked and Aegon stepped on his foot to make him shut up before Mother could hear him.

"With the dragons, no one can stip us," Rhaenyra said.

"No one but other dragons," Aemon agreed. "Lady Mother, I think it'll be better if we part ways here, so we throw them in confusion as to where they should follow."

"No!"Rhaenyra said sharply. Ser Arryk started talking to her in low voice and Aemon went past them, to the cell where his own Ikarras was sheltered. At his approach, the blue and red dragon gave a low whine, much like a dog, although this one had a rumbling edge that made the floor vibrate.

"Well, Viserys?" Aemon asked. "Do you want to come with me for a ride?"

His voice was cheerful but his eyes were still deep, and dark, and full of fury, just like their mother's. Viserys nodded, although this Aemon, he did not know. But he loved riding dragons and could not wait to become old enough to have one of his own.

"It's bad enough that I have to flee," Rhaenyra spat. "But if we separate, we'll be more vulnerable."

"You'll be vulnerable everywhere now, no matter what," her son Aegyl said. "We will all be now that Aegon made his bid for the throne. And it's better to have them uncertain as to where we went… they won't think we parted ways."

There was something else that he was not telling her, yet Rhaenyra seemed to understand. She angrily rubbed the tracks of dried tears lining her cheeks and nodded. "I'll be a mother of kings," she proclaimed. "That's what that fire witch said. I'll be a mother of kings, and Aegon won't win."

She headed for her younger sons and looked at them sternly. "It's hard time for us now," she said. "We must separate. Aegon, you're coming with me. Viserys, you're leaving with Aemon. Don't make nuisance of yourself and do what he says, otherwise there will be punishment worse than whatever you can imagine. I'll see you at Harrenhall."

Viserys nodded and decided that he didn't have anything to say at all when everyone was so anxious.

Their entourage left the dragonpit. Rhaenyra and her sons remained. Aegyl opened the doors of the stalls one by one and the pit was soon full of smoke, dust, and roars as the dragons were geared for flight.

In the vast courtyard, Aegyl knelt before their mother. She placed her hand on his head for blessing. Aemon and Viserys followed and the boy felt that his mother's fingers were shaking.

"Keep him safe," she said in low voice. "And stay safe yourself."

"I will, Lady Mother," Aemon replied in the same tone. "You can trust me."

They were already high in the sky, with the moon in their reach and the cold wind in their hairs when the first shouts came.