Author's Note:
All rights belong to GRRM and the powers that be at HBO. No infringement is intended, I'm just playing in their sandbox.
Thank you to those that reviewed!
Part One
Chapter Two - 297 AC
Essos, Pentos
"Your royal highness, his grace has requested your presence on the veranda."
Daemon Targaryen nodded to the servant and went where he was bid. He found his older brother, Viserys, in his usual spot. The manse they'd been staying at for the past six months had a spectacular view of the Bay of Pentos. Daemon recognized the primal look on his brother's face. Longing for Westeros, he presumed, more specifically for the Iron Throne and their former life. All of which was just across the Narrow Sea.
"You summoned me brother?"
Viserys turned, the light returning to his indigo orbs.
"Yes, little brother, I have news," he drawled.
Daemon crossed his arms over his chest, bracing himself for Gods knew what. Viserys had recently gone to dine with the Golden Company, the premier force of sellswords in the Free Cities, for the second time since their exile. The first time the Captain and his high officers were happy to be wined and dined on Targaryen coin, taking in the sweet promises of gold and unimaginable wealth all to be repaid on behalf of the then two and ten year old Viserys, the rightful King of Westeros once the Usurper was defeated. For reasons still unknown, the Golden Company refused.
This time Viserys returned to the company again as a man grown. Daemon didn't have all the details, but by the way his older brother raged about the estate the last few weeks he knew they still we missing the army needed to start their campaign westward. Thankfully, this week the mood of the household changed. The servants were no longer walking about on eggshells while in his brother's path. Daemon was also grateful to note that the young maids who captured Viserys' attentions were no longer forced the indignity of having to complete their day's work with tears in their eyes and slight limps in their steps. It also didn't escape the younger Targaryen prince that Magister Illyrio and Viserys had been whispering non-stop. That paired with the dark twinkle of his brother's eyes just now was a bad omen to be sure.
"What do you know of the Dothraki?" Viserys posed lightly as he stared out at the sea.
"I know not to meet them out on an open field," Daemon said plainly. "Incredible fighters, they love a pecking order and are fond of braids…why?"
Even though Daemon could only see a portion of his older brother's face, he knew Viserys was rolling his eyes.
"Illyrio has been in contact with a particular khalassar. Khal Drogo's, to be exact. Apparently, the savage has been having dreams. Dragon dreams."
Ash blond brows raised considerably high as Daemon tried to connect the dots. "That's wonderful?"
"Apparently, he sees the coming of a great khal who will take the world. A silver khal with dragon banners. At least that's what Illyrio says. Khal Drogo wants to meet us."
"I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say," Daemon confessed.
A pod of dolphins sprang up from the sea, splashing and playing in the distance. For a brief moment Daemon imagined another life, with mother, both his brothers, niece and nephew playing by the sea on a hot summer day like this one. While Viserys yearned for the seven kingdoms, Daemon longed for a family, a home. Since he was born, he'd been vagabonding…running from place to place with his mother and brother. He was exhausted and their journey had barely begun.
"It's savage nonsense," Viserys said dismissively. "But the Khal is seeking us out. I plan to make him an offer."
"What could you possibly give this man?" Daemon scoffed. For years they lived off the charity of others. The Dothraki valued strength, horses and slaves. Daemon gasped fearing the worst. "He can't have Muna. I won't let you."
Viserys struck with lightening speed, half turning to slap Daemon on the cheek. "Won't let me? I am the head of this family; I'll do as I fucking please. Don't wake the dragon, valonqar."
"Vis," Daemon breathed, pushing down his own anger. He felt is face reddening, but did not raise a hand to his brother. "I'm sorry. I only meant that, well, surely, mother can't provide this Drogo a 'silver khal.'"
At six and ten, Daemon knew little of women's ability to bare children. He did know, at least logically, that their mother was advanced in her age. Even if they married and Khal Drogo sired a child, the likelihood of their mother's survival would be slim, more-so given her history. Daemon hoped that even in his desperate scheming Viserys considered their queen mother's well being. Daemon also prayed that his clumsy reasoning would pull Viserys from his souring mood. For his sake as well as Illyrio's household.
"You idiot," Viserys laughed haughtily. "Of course he can't have mother. I won't get my throne back by tossing an old dowager queen Drogo's way. Even though, come to think of it, he'd probably pay me to have a night with her."
With his full lips pursed and fists clenched at his side, Daemon stood rigid upon the insults, but for once, he stayed his hand. He knew that if he fought, Viserys wouldn't see it as being struck by his brother. It would be an attack against the King.
"How do you plan on getting your army then?" Daemon bit out. "The Golden Company won't have you. Mother will not become Khal Drogo's wife. We don't have any money to offer these people Viserys."
A smug smile marred Viserys' face.
"I'm going to offer them you, brother."
Daemon's breath hitched. He hadn't considered that. He hadn't considered that at all.
"What?"
"You were supposed to be a girl, did you know that?" Viserys glowered, Daemon's shock completely inconsequential. "Mother was certain you would be. Imagine…you would have been my wife. Anyway, my hands are tied. I've got an old mummy and no sister to trade. Fortunately, Khal Drogo has a daughter. You'll become a silver savage, I'll have my army. It's perfect."
"Brother," Daemon began. A bead of sweat tickled down his neck. The salty breeze from the sea felt like poisonous fumes kissing his face while razor blades danced down his throat. It was as though a brick were in his stomach, only his pride kept him from retching. He didn't want this to be forced on him. Viserys had vision, but Daemon knew there was a difference between perfect and easy.
"I just…" Daemon said sheepishly. "Whenever I thought about going home, I never thought of my marriage being the key. I'm meant to be a soldier. A champion of our house and you, our king."
Daemon knew their situation, the facts had been drilled into his head from infancy. They were the last Targaryens. With their older brother Rhaegar slain, Viserys was the rightful king and Daemon, at least for now, was his heir to do with as he saw fit. And as crude as he was, Daemon hated to admit, Viserys had a point. They had no sisters to make marriage alliances with and their Muna, as beautiful as she was, could have no more children. A marriage to Rhaella Targaryen would never get Viserys what he needed to complete this quest. As King, Viserys would need a bride from Westeros to assure the other great houses. In order to get there, however, Daemon needed to marry now. It was the only way.
After the great storm during his birth, Queen Rhaella took Viserys and baby Daemon across the sea on the last ship left in Dragonstone harbor along with their small party of loyal attendants and guards. The small fortune Rhaella was able to take bought a small house in Braavos. That is where Daemon and Viserys spent most of their formative years. Ser William Darry was the first man to put a sword in Daemon's hands. 'You will bring glory back to your house someday, my prince,' Ser William told him assuredly. A plague came to city, taking the lives of Ser William and some of mother's ladies. Fearing for their lives, the Targaryens moved on, traveling up and down the Essosi coast, never being able to stay in one place more than a year at best.
For a time his family lived modestly, hovels compared to The Red Keep as Viserys would say, but they were comfortable. Until their money ran out. Daemon would never forget the sound of his mother's cries the day she had to sell her crown. It was the last of her treasures. She said it once was worn by her grandmother, Queen Betha. After that there was a period where they lived like elegant beggars. In the early years many were happy to host the exiled royals. They were intrigued by the blood of old Valyria, drunk on witnessing their tragedy first hand. A beautiful widowed queen traveling from door to door with her young handsome sons. As he got older Daemon was able to understand why Viserys would be such a terror — embarrassment for not having the wealth to match their name, rage for not being old enough to do something to prevent their circumstance, shame for the things their queen mother endured to maintain their precarious position. Each day as Viserys' resentment toward their mother grew, Daemon appreciated her all the more.
Daemon excelled in the role of the second son, the spare, the soldier. While Viserys was tutored for the throne, Muna made sure there was a master-at-arms to instruct her youngest son in every city they went. Every day, every hit, kick and cut made him stronger. Daemon was determined to be the best, better than Rhaegar had ever been. He would help Viserys raise their family up and like The Warrior himself, Daemon would smite anyone who tried to come after the people he loved.
"Brother, what am I to do with a wife?" Daemon wondered, completely floored. He never knew their father and had no clue where to begin in terms of being a husband.
He loathed to show such angst in front of his brother, Viserys had no patience for it, but Daemon could only share his heart.
His older brother put his hand on Daemon's neck squeezed with gentle affection, but his tone made the hair's on Daemon's arms stand up and his heart fill with dread. "You'll wed her, bed her and do whatever you wish with your horse bride. It doesn't matter. But you will secure my army and together we'll take back the Iron Throne. Am I understood?"
Viserys' glasslike jaw was clenched, lips back in their foreboding droop. His eyes, a stormy purple shade, much more brooding than Daemon and his mother's amethyst hue. There was a flash of mayhem in them, frenzy bubbling just under the surface. This was the face of Viserys' dragon. For a fleeting moment Daemon wondered what it would be like if he had known the babel of his father Aryes. Then, just as quickly as it came, Viserys blinked and was back to himself.
Daemon willed the tension to leave his body as he released a small laugh. Nothing about this will be simple, the young prince thought inwardly. He was a confident, competent fighter, but marrying a Dothraki wouldn't automatically give them an army, and he didn't know if he was prepared for the outcome if he dared to tell Viserys no. Somehow, in the near future, Daemon would have to figure out how to become one of them if there was to be a chance in the Seven Hells to not only wage a war, but win it.
"Are you by my side, brother?" Viserys questioned before turning his attention back to the water. The waves on the beach crashed against the rocks and Viserys tilted his head up towards the sun, a ghost of a smile on his face. Daemon reminisced on how they'd collect sand crabs on the beaches of Lys when they were children and built castles with Muna in the sand. 'You'll bring glory back to your house someday, my prince.'
In that moment Daemon knew he would do whatever Viserys asked of him. Not just because Viserys was his King, but because they were brothers. Besides mother, Viserys was all he had. His family deserved to have what was taken from them restored and Daemon made a vow to all the Gods that he would do everything he could get it for them. He smiled brilliantly as he looked at his older brother and made a point to stand shoulder to shoulder. "Where am I now?"
Author's Note:
So Queen Rhaella is alive. We talked about her, but we won't meet her for a few more chapters. Are we curious about the things she got up to while living as a single mom in Essos? That bit about her crown being Betha Blackwood's is not true, but I like the idea of it being a specific heirloom. Viserys is a jerk who will make his dissent into madness, but are we finding him a little enjoyable?
I'm thinking for Daemon Targaryen an actor named Alexander Vlahos. He is mostly known for his work on Merlin and Versailles. He looks believable when I put pictures of him and the actors who played Rhaegar and Viserys together and he goes well with Lili Reinhart as Alyssa Snow.
If you'd like a casting list let me know!
Next chapter we'll be back in Westeros meeting some more characters.
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