The halls within the The Palace of Nymeria were comfortably warm, at least in Viserys' mind. Great tapestries depicting Imperium victories lined the wall, ranging from Daemon the Liberator's victories, to more recent times, in the form of Viserra the Bold's conquest of Lys during the War of the Ninepenny Kings.
Viserys was given a good view of the palace from atop Baelor Bittersteel's shoulders. Despite the Prince being eight years old, the warrior didn't seem bothered by carrying him. Daenerys was being carried by the Empress, and had occupied herself by playing with the woman's braid. Willem Darry remained barely three steps behind his charges, vague annoyance plain to see on his face. It was obvious, even to the guards that the man was uneasy being in the halls of the Palace.
The walk through the Palace was surprisingly long, but this didn't surprise Willem Darry. The Palace of Nymeria had to be at least five times bigger than the Red Keep. The Targaryen loyalist never let his hand leave the hilt of his blade. This, predictably, made the royal guards on edge. It wouldn't be the first time that someone tried to attack an Imperial ruler in their own halls, that was after all, how the first husband of Viserra the Bold, Daemon, had died. The man had lived a surprisingly sad life. Denied the throne after his brother, Emperor Aegon's death, he had been plagued by dragon dreams for most of his life. His assassination at the hands of Volantene agents had instilled a deep distrust of Valyria's first daughter in the Imperium's citizens. In fact, it had only been the council that had calmed the Bold Dragon down, so that she did not lead her people into a war with Volantis.
The Prince roded on Baelor's shoulders right up until the small group arrived in the Empress' personal solar. It was a sunlight room in the tower of the Palace in which the Royals actually lived. After being placed back on the ground, Viserys soon took back his sister, and settled into one of the chairs. Willem placed a calming hand on the boy's shoulder, and turned his gaze to the Empress.
"I thank you for your kindness, Empress Visenya." The Riverman said. "I doubt we will need to seek sanctuary under your roof for long."
Viserys turned to look at his loyal guardian, a look of childish annoyance on his young face. "Ser Willem, we are not going to Braavos. We are safe here."
"That part is true, Ser Willem Darry." Visenya admitted. "The Prince and Princess will not be at risk in these halls."
"Begging you pardon, Empress. But we have a group of loyalists waiting at Braavos. Men ready to rally and place the rightful King back on the Iron Throne."
When Visenya snorted a laugh, the Darry man scowled. "That amuses you, Empress?"
"The nation of Westeros has just been torn apart by a war. The only Kingdom that would rise for you is Dorne. The lords of the Claw are a possibility, but they will likely be watched closely. So tell me, Ser Willem, which men do you refer to? Not the common people I trust?"
"Why not? They know that Viserys and the Targaryen's would be better for Westeros than the Usurper."
Visenya's amethyst eyes fell on the young Prince. "I mean no offence, but how is an eight year old boy what is best for Westeros right now?"
Willem had no answer, and moved to take Daenerys from her brother, and when Viserys refused to hand her over, a saddened look, almost of betrayal, crossed the elder knight's face. Without another word, he departed the Solar. The Targaryen Prince turned to look at his host, his eyes wide, and a little fearful.
The Blackfyre woman noticed this, and soon drew the brother and sister into an embrace. "I meant what I said. You are not at risk here. Should you wish it, I will raise you alongside mine own children. You won't need to struggle for life on the streets, nor sell your mother's crown for bread. You and your sister will be safe here, Viserys Targaryen."
As if showing her approval, and trust, Daenerys giggled, and pawed at the Empress' braid again. This time, when someone offered to take his sister, the Targaryen relented. Once she had left his arms, his gaze turned to the floor. The Empress sighed softly, gently rocking the babe in her arms. She glanced out of the window, overlooking her vast city. Daemonholt was rumored to be a little larger than Qarth. Only Asshai was categorically known to be larger than it. Just under two million people lived in the streets below her now, and almost all of them lived their lives in peace, for better or for worse.
"...Would you help me?"
The Princes words caused Visenya to break from her thoughts and face the young Prince again. "...With what, may I ask?"
"Justice….f-for little Rhaenys and Aegon….a-and sister Elia."
The boy's words caused the Empress to raise a brow, and gained her attention. "Not for your mother and father? Not Rhaegar?"
The Prince shook his head. "...Mother died peacefully. And f-father….hurt her."
It was Baelor that placed a steadying hand on the boy's shoulder. "We understand Lad. Take a deep breath. It'll be alright."
"...Nyssie called me Uncle a lot...I l-liked that.."
And there, in a room far from home, Viserys Targaryen broke down, and cried. The eight year old wept loudly as he let himself remember, and feel safe. Visenya passed Daenerys over to Baelor, and embraced the young boy once more.
"Blessed Vhagar, you've been so strong, child." She murmured, allowing Viserys to cry into her shoulder. "It's alright. You are safe. Remember that. You are safe."
It took ten minutes for Viserys to let go of the Empress, who was soon led away by Baelor. He was leading them to the kitchens for some much needed food. Visenya Blackfyre sighed, and settled into a chair at her desk. She sat in silence for nearly ten minutes, before calling for a guard. She calmly gave him instructions, before returning to her seat.
Soon, a man entered the chambers.
Qoherys was the bastard brother of Visenya's father (and her mother's second husband). His hair was a dark brown, and his eyes were a muddy shade of green. He walked into the Empress' solar, and took a formal bow in greeting, his red priestly robes flowing like wine. "My Empress, you summoned me?"
"Uncle Qoherys." Visenya greeted the elder man with a nod, rising from her seat to face him directly. "...I have a job for you. It will take years to complete, so I understand if you do not wish to take it on."
Qoherys shook his head with a kind smile. "If you need my aid, My Empress, I as a humble servant must prove aid."
"Very well." Visenya Blackfyre smiled. "...You're going to Westeros."
Up next should hopefully be Viserys meeting Visenya's children and consort, and a possible visit to Westeros, if it fits in.