"He's an odd one, ya brother," Yvanna said teasingly, and Viserys heard his sister giggle. He paused outside the door, a freshly killed chicken in hand.

"Don't let him hear you, Yvanna." he heard Dany say. "He might take it the wrong way."

"There's no wrong way o' takin' it, only one way, girly. He's a lost soul, that one."

Viserys held his breath; he could hear his heart drumming in his ears, a slow fury building inside of him with every passing moment.

"We're both lost, in a way." His jaw clenched as he listened, hoping his sister wouldn't reveal too much information. As much as he liked the old woman, he didn't think it would be safe if she knew their true identities. He strained himself to hear her now, since Daenerys' voice had lowered, and he could picture her face saddening as the following words left her lips. "He's all I have and I'm all he has. We're two orphans…lost in the midst of a world we never even thought we'd be a part of."

"How old were ya when your parents…?" Old Yvanna trailed off. Viserys let out a slow, silent breath, hoping they wouldn't hear him through the small crack in the door.

"My mother died giving birth to me ten years ago. My brother has taken care of me ever since. He was nearly nine when it happened. I don't believe he's ever been the same after that..."

"Since her passin'?"

"And since my birth."

"Frail age," the old woman tittered, and Viserys could picture her shaking her head. He pressed his shoulder into the door frame, leveling his breathing and trying to look as natural and oblivious as possible when he would push open the door—but then Yvanna spoke again. "He is a lost soul, but I have a feelin' that with some help, he might find himself again. Find you. Find his destiny."

"Do you really believe in all that?"

"Well o' course." A quick pause. "Everyone has a destiny, child. Whether they want to follow it or no…Our lives are written and planned out long before we're born. What happened happened, and couldn't have happened any different no matter what us frail, mortal humans desired."

"I don't believe that," his sister replied, and Viserys detected a hint of disobedience in her voice, something which he generally didn't hear directed toward him.

"What do you believe in, fair child? That we weave our own destinies? There's a larger picture, ya know, and the Gods—"

"I don't know," she interrupted somewhat hurriedly. "I only know that, Gods or no Gods, no deity could ever impose such suffering on a nine year old and a newborn without just cause. And there was no just cause for the Gods, or whoever it was, to take my mother away from us. There's no justification for what we were put through, and what we are still being put through." A silence stretched out perceptibly, and Viserys desperately wished he could see through walls so he may look upon their faces and know their silent communication. Then Daenerys' voice continued, lighter and smaller now. "I mean no disrespect, Lady Yvanna. Viserys and I are ever so grateful for everything you've done for us. You're quite possibly the nicest person we've encountered, well, ever."

"And ya kids won't be gettin' a room any place else for a price as good as this one," Yvanna chuckled. "But that was just what I'd been meanin' to talk to ya about, child."

"Yes?"

"The room. I know you're turnin' ten next week, and though that may be young, I remember me'self at ten, all long limbs, fiery hair, freckles and big teeth. I remember my body changin' and thinkin' to me'self, I can't continue sharing a room with ma' younger siblings."

"I don't think we can afford more than one room, and Viserys won't—"

"Oh, he will. He's not blind to your body, child. And he should know a girl your age needs the privacy of her own bed and her own room to—"

"What is the meaning of this?" Viserys growled, slamming the door open so loudly that both females sitting at the table jumped in shock. "What are you saying, Yvanna? We had a deal for one room, and you know of our circumstance, you know I can only afford to pay for that one room—"

"Put the fire out, boy, there isn't any need for all o' that," the woman snapped, her dark green eyes narrowing at him. "I was goin' to give her the room free of charge. It's a smaller room. I used it when my nephew visited years ago when he was still a young boy. The bed is smaller but she'll fit comfortably."

"Free—free of charge," muttered Viserys, his face flushing profusely. "That is—awfully generous of you. But I'd rather not impose—"

"Impose on whom, m'boy?" The woman waved her hand dismissively, making his jaw clench. "I don't use that room for anythin'; it's been empty for years. You'd just need to clean it up a bit, I'll get her some fresh linens and a pillow, and that's that." The woman's eyes were almost accusing now, and Viserys wondered for a split second if she knew who they were, knew of their family's tradition, and what he planned to do once Daenerys came of age. Horror rose up inside of him, and he felt a cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

"I apologize," he grated out, his voice not sounding apologetic in the least.

Yvanna smiled then, shaking her head and telling him it was no trouble at all. Yet Viserys could see that strange look still lingering in her eyes even now. It was a look that clearly said, I know your deepest, darkest secrets, and I don't trust you.

"What was that all about?" he asked Daenerys that night as they readied themselves for bed.

"Hm?" She wasn't looking at him, preoccupied with slipping off her shirt and trousers and rummaging through the armoire for her nightgown. Viserys grabbed her wrist and shook her slightly, making her gasp and drop the gown. Her violet eyes found his and she flinched upon noting how furious he was.

"What were you talking about with Yvanna before I came in?" he demanded, nostrils flaring. His eyes ran up and down her body, her underclothes so thin they left little to the imagination. She had developed a little these past few months, her hips rounding out slightly, yet her chest was still flat as ever. Viserys could almost feel her pulse rising beneath his fingers, his hand so tight around her wrist now that she winced.

"We were—we were discussing my name day. It's coming next week, and Yvanna says a girl shouldn't be rooming with her brother at such an age."

"Yvanna has no say in how I care for you. How dare you go behind my back—"

"I wasn't going behind your back," Daenerys snapped, tugging her wrist out of his grip, her eyes flashing. "I was simply having a conversation."

"I heard you." He stepped closer, towering over her as he reached out and grabbed her shoulders firmly. "I heard everything you said, Daenerys. About me, about our mother." She looked scared now, and something inside of Viserys took great pleasure in that.

"I didn't mean to give anything away. I was defending you," she tried, twisting in his hands. He was much stronger, his grip unrelenting as she gazed up at him fearfully.

"Defending me," he said slowly, feeling how hot her skin was against his own. "You mean betraying me." Viserys pushed her away then, fearing that if he remained in her presence he would surely end up hurting her. "I'm leaving," he announced, putting his tunic back on before turning away.

"But it's so late—wait, where are you going?"

"That," he said crisply, turning to look back at her puzzled expression, "is none of your concern."