WARNING for (brief, vague, non-graphic) child-sex content. It seems almost stupid to warn for this given the content of the books themselves, but just in case, there you go: you're warned. A child performs a sex act in this ficlet.

Erm… I don't suppose you need much summary after that warning, either. This takes place during the time Viserys and Dany are on the run.

The man stood in the light of the doorway scratching his belly thoughtfully. Viserys waited a while, but when the man showed no signs of going away he sat up, uncertainly. "What?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Your sister's a pretty one."

Viserys looked down at her, sleeping so peacefully on the floor. Her hair – even dirty – was bright white against the nest of sacks she was lying in. Her skin was clear and her lashes long. She was pretty for a ten-year-old. Pretty, and fragile, and his to protect.

"My sister is a child." He stood up, stepping over her carefully, getting between her and the fat stinking lowborn scum who dared put his eyes on her. He realized his knife was in his pack and not strapped to his body. How would he fight someone twice his size unarmed? Never mind – he would find a way. A dragon is never unarmed.

But the man only nodded. Then shrugged. "You're not a child," he suggested.

Viserys gaped.

"I took you in because you're both very pretty."

"You- you said we looked hungry!" Viserys sputtered.

"And so you did," the man said placidly. "And I fed you, and I gave you a place to sleep, and I didn't ask no questions about where you're going or who you're running from. And now I'll have payment."

Viserys drew himself up. "You'll have your gold, you filthy peasant. Now let us sleep in peace."

"I don't want gold." The man took one heavy step forward and reached out. "I'd rather have me some silver. Hm?" His fingers slid through Viserys's hair, and caught on a fierce knot. "Call me filthy," he laughed. "You're the ones been sleeping under bushes, it looks like." Viserys could feel his face flame, but he said nothing. "Now: should I wake the girl, or will you come with me yourself?"

Strength isn't just shouting and hitting things all the time, Rhaegar had said to him once. Strength can be patience, calm, forbearance. It had been meant to explain why Father was allowed to do the Things he did, why Rhaegar didn't stop him even when the Things got so bad that Viserys could hear and smell them from his room… but Viserys was using it now as advice for nearly every occasion.

Strength, true strength, royal strength, he told himself, doesn't mean trying to fight a grown man hand to hand. That would be stupid. And beneath me. He glanced down at Daenerys once more. A dragon protects its own. Period. "Don't you touch my sister."

He was pushed down to his knees without protest, amazed that the heat of his glare didn't burn a hole straight through the man's trousers. As he gagged and choked on what was put into his mouth he imagined killing the man, asking Father to have it done, hearing him die as Dany hid her head in his lap and begged protection from the noise.

No – Dany was older now. Now, or soon, she would sit beside him instead, holding his hand as they listened together. She belonged beside him, and he would be proud and delighted to have her there. She was, after all, such a very pretty girl.

The End.

Let me know what you think.