The Beggar King
(Chapter 1) – Fire Cannot Kill A Dragon
His head was burning. The sun was shining brightly, he could feel it on his skin. The sand beneath him was pleasantly warm. There was something on his face which prevented him from seeing the sun, so he raised one hand from the sand and tried to lift it. Oh, wait – he couldn't. From now on this would stay on his face and remind him of what had happened to him and why. While trying to lift himself up from the ground, the memories came back to his mind – of Penthos, the town across the Narrow Sea, of his sister with her silvery- white hair, and mostly – of her savage husband who took her but did not give him what he desired. Well, he will be dead soon; dead by his hand - he was the true King after all, and true kings take what they want. Right now everything Viserys Targaryen wanted was revenge. Revenge to everyone who betrayed him – to Jorah Mormont, who promised to serve him but chose his sister instead, to the man named Khal Drogo who almost killed him and because of whom he was in the middle of nowhere alone. And to Daenerys – yes, his sister – she had to pay for letting her husband 'crown' him. After that he would take back what was rightfully his – the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Throne. And then, only then, will he have a real crown and be at peace. The man tried to stand up. He lost balance but little by little started to come round and made a little, hesitant step. After that he made one more, and one more. After looking around him, he realized that he was in a desert.
"What is this godforsaken place?" Viserys asked himself. "Oh, probably the lands of that savage who tried to kill me. He did try, but all he managed to achieve is wake the dragon. I am Viserys III Targaryen and will take what is mine, with fire and blood." After saying that, he fell to the ground again because he was powerless from all the time spent in the desert.
"Get up, Viserys", he said to himself. "Get up, you are the blood of the dragon, and the fire cannot kill a dragon. The sun cannot harm me." He rose again. He stood still and closed his eye. His other one was forever closed now because of the molten gold on his head. But the one left was purple as a flower and full of little red veins, thirsty for blood. The Rightful King took a deep breath three times then opened his eyes. It was better now, his sight was not blurred anymore.
"Now what?" he wondered. "There has to be a way out of here and I better find it before any other savages that walk this desert find me. I will not be able to defeat them on my own. Also, I am King, my Kingsguard should fight them instead of me." Suddenly another doze of powerlessness reminded him that he was actually alone in the middle of nowhere without company, without a Kingsguard, without a throne. He lost balance again but managed to keep up. "A little water wouldn't be bad", he said. "In my kingdom there is plenty of water, plenty – in the lands of Riverrun, all over Dragonstone, in the river Trident…" The river Trident – this sounded familiar to him. What does this name have to do with him? After some moments of thinking, it came to him – the Trident was the place where his brother, the mighty Rhaegar Targaryen had died, killed by Robert Baratheon the Usurper, the one who was still sitting on the Iron Throne. His Iron Throne.
"Rhaegar fell in the water when he was attacked, water killed him. Maybe it will kill me too. Fire, fire is my only hope. I am the blood of the Dragon, and the fire cannot kill a dragon". Despite feeling weak, he decided to continue walking because the Dothraki sea had to end somewhere after all. The burning rays of the sun made his head very hot. He tore his shirt's sleeve and tied it on his forehead in a way that hid the disfigured part of his face. There was not much of his once beautiful silver-white hair left. He tore his other sleeve and tied whatever was left from his hair in a tail. "It will grow again, it has to", he said, full of hope. "The Seven Kingdoms should not have a bald king." Suddenly he realized that the shirt he was wearing was given to him by Daenerys. Daenerys Targaryen, his sister, who was the only one who cared about him. Once.
"Now she is with her savage husband and does not care about me. She let him kill me and I am sure she did not even ask what happened to me after that. That's OK, she will pay too, she will. She will pay with fire and blood. She probably thinks I am dead, which is understandable – everyone would have died from molten gold. But not me. Looks like I am a true dragon after all. "
A smile appeared on the half of his face – something which had not happened for a long time.
"But the real and most sincere smile on my face will be the one after your death, Daenerys. Yours and the ones of your savage husband and your horrid little bastard."
Viserys looked ahead of him. Nothing except some stones and sand was covering the earth. He was not sure which way to go (not that there were any particular ways to take). He looked at the sun and saw it was almost sundown.
"The sun sets on the west. So east will be my road. Right towards the rising of the sun. I will rise in the same way one day…. One day…"He felt a little stream of power coming to him and started walking carefully. The sand was hot but it didn't burn him (he was a dragon after all, if you haven't already understood).
"You were right, Daenerys. Fire cannot kill a dragon" repeated he as he strode off to the east where the sun would rise in the morning.