Pre-aGoT. Just my thoughts on their times running from Usurper as children.
Raw writing, too distracted to edit. Please review any thoughts and violent reactions.
She could not have been more than eight; her brother, Viserys, only just reaching manhood. She was grateful that some part of childishness still lingered despite his ever growing responsibility as brother and her guardian. Daenarys looked towards the dark sleeping form, eyes wet with frightened tears. Her hair flowed free, like waves of silver on her pillow. The night was calm through the window, the sea still. But she was not.
"Viserys?" Daenarys spoke into the darkness, unable to hold back her scared words. Her hair was bright under the moonlight as she passed the open window, moving to her brothers' side of the room. "Are you still awake, Viserys?"
He grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He moved so that he was lying on his side, his hair loose and silver-blonde like his sisters'. Then he opened his eyes and looked up at her. "What do you want?"
She had already made her way to the edge of his bed, eyes laced with fear. A new place, a new terror. But they had to keep moving on, he knew. He only felt the least bit bad that she couldn't have a normal childhood like other nobles. She, especially, deserved one, being a Targaryen. But the most important thing was to keep her alive. He had to keep her safe, he couldn't worry about her childish nightmares.
"Will you tell me another story?" She begged, bending so that her face was near his pillow. Her fear filled eyes pooled with tears, showing that this new place was much worse than the one previous. She didn't want to complain, he was only trying to protect her, but that didn't mean she fully agreed with it.
"Again?" He asked, annoyed. His eyes narrowed bu he heard a half sob come from her as she placed her hands on his sheets, begging him to help her forget all of the nights' frightening shadows. Viserys sighed, sitting up, his hair falling straight down his back. "Come here, you."
She gasped with relief as he shifted to make room for his little sister. It was the least he could do after hours in a ship and another half day's walk into the city. She was tired and almost falling on her feet. But she was also afraid and sleep would never claim her unless he calmed her night terrors. She was still a child after all.
"What do you want to know?" He spoke softly in her ear. She sighed and leaned into her older brother.
"Tell me about the dragons," she said. It was something she always asked about, Viserys knew what tales to tell. It was one practice that had been honed over years of telling, memories that would never leave him. Memories that he knew, she would have to pass down for him.
By the time he had finished telling tales of their brother Rhaegar, of the first dragons and the noble house of Targaryen, Daenarys was already tucked deep into the crook of his arm. Her hair tangled with his fingers and he stroked it, whispering finally, "And that's how we're here, little sister. The Usurper has taken our kingdom. One day when I have gathered my army, I will become king and we will live happily ever after."
"And you'll make me your queen, right, Viserys?" Dany whispered sleepily. He froze, his hand stopping at the top of her golden head. "You'll make me your queen just like Aegon made his sisters his queens, right, Viserys? And then we'll make a new age of the dragons, right, Viserys?"
"Yes, sweetling, we'll make a new age of the dragons. For we are the last dragons of House Targaryen. I am the last dragon." Viserys whispered after a few moments silence. He continued to stroke her hair, staring out at the darkness with confused worry. He had never mentioned to the child that he would ever wed his own sister and realised she must have concluded it out of all the stories she had heard from him.
Viserys knew that he could never actually take his sister as his wife if he was to become king. He had nothing: no army, no ships, no home. Nothing but his sister. And with this sister, he knew, he could get his own army and ships. And with those armies and ships, he could finally provide a stable home for the girl. But only if she realised that she would never be his queen. Only if she became someone else's queen would he regain the iron throne that rightfully belonged to the Targaryen's.
"I've been putting foolish fantasies in her head," Viserys thought to himself. "I cannot allow that to happen again."
He sunk lower down on the bed, Daenarys clinging on to him in her finally calmed sleep. He sighed, pulling her in close as a brother only should. For a few moments he allowed himself to hold her, the only thing he had left. But finally he slowly untangled himself from her small arms and pushed her to the furthest side of his bed. And from that moment onwards, Viserys decided that he would never humour his younger sister ever again. Not if he was to become the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Not if he was to regain his inheritance as the dragon. Not if he was to ever pull them out of poverty.
"I love you, Viserys," she whispered into him. He was shocked, thinking that his younger sister was asleep.
"I love you too, sweetling," he managed to say. And finally, Daenarys did manage to fall asleep, safe in the arms of her brother. Safe in the arms of her protector, safe in the arms of her king.
But from that moment onwards, Viserys resolved to being a king. He thought he had grown up, he had to for her sake, but he realised what it took to finally grow into a man worthy of a throne. From that moment onwards, Viserys resolved to being a king, making Daenarys Targaryen, his only blood and little sister, nothing more than his property.
Hands gripped from behind him, screaming at her for help, Daenarys stood frozen, thinking only that his hair looked so beautiful in the fire light. They told her to look away, but she couldn't. She had to see. Dany needed to look upon the face of the one man that was supposed to love her. Their eyes met, the ever changing violet known to Targaryen blood.
"You told me you would make me your queen," Daenarys thought to herself as Viserys looked up at her, begging her to save him, her only blood. She stared him down, tears pooling at her eyes. "You promised me we would make a new age of dragons. I thought you loved me. I thought you wanted me but you sold me like a whore, and took others to your bed. I was supposed to be your maiden, I loved only you. You were my king; you were my dragon."
His scream pierced through her but still she watched until finally he had stopped screaming. She wiped her tears away furiously as a last 'Dany' froze on his lips. A few dropped upon her swollen belly, still warm. But a part of her had gone cold, the part of her soul that was lost with her dead brother.
"Grow up, Dany," she told herself. Something that Viserys had screamed at her many times before, hitting her where robes would hide the worst of bruises. She had almost forgotten his promises by then, until he tried to claim her maidenhood as he should have, but he did not in the end. And she was left to be raped by a brute. A brother would not have given anyone a chance let a child grow in her if it was not his own. Not a Targaryen brother.
After that, she felt that she had finally aged. But this was different. No, Daenarys had finally grown up, looking at the dying fire in the eyes of her brother. It did not take carrying a horse child for Daenarys Stormborn to realise all the sacrifices her brother had made. It took a sword to her womb as he tried to cut away the monstrosity he had allowed inside of her, failing once again to save her from her bonds. From that moment onwards, Daenarys Targaryen, the last of her kind, resolved to make Viserys, a man that was supposed to be her brother, nothing more than a memory.
"He was not your brother, you lost him many years ago." Danaerys tried to convince herself, still looking at his broken form. "That man before you, he was no true dragon."
Fire cannot kill a dragon.