The Dragon Prince:
AN: I hope the whole chapter is okaish, an that the flashback is half-decent.
Pink Penguins: God bless you for being so absolutely faithful and always reviewing it means too mic for me! I love you! And yeah... Viserys could sometimes be a dick, but I can't make him too fluffy or than its not Viserys. Stills glad that you like Daenyre, I do try ;)
Ramzes: I am happy that you like that little touch-up on Irri's POV, I found it quite important! Priceless? Gods you're making me blush *nudge, stop it ;D thank you very much for being one of the most faithful reviewers that I have! Long live us Neighbours!
Maddie Rose: You did? Well that's good :D I will give you more of Viserys and Daenyre ;) and hopefully it would be okay :D happy that you like this pairing! Really! You're awesome! They do have the same obsession with the throne lol! Again thank you for beta-ing and now being one of the most faithful and best reviewers ever! Ily!
He was proudly reciting the ancient names of his bloodline to his mother. Describing in detail what each of the Dragon kings had once done, hopefully in time his name would be recited.
He had started with the very first, the very best; Aegon the Conqueror.
His very own favourite.
Targaryen to sit on the Iron Throne, Aegon The Conqueror. Then went on to describe the other kings, eventually arriving to his father, Aerys II. He does this to show his mother that he doesn't forget, why would he?
The dragons remember.
She was smiling at him from her seat near the window. The rays of the melancholic setting sun framed her pale hair.
She was finally wearing her crown, as she was tended to do in those troubled times, as if to show anyone and everyone that House Targaryen still held the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms.
What an irony. Rhaella twice a princess and once a queen had never wanted this, to be a Queen.
"Viserys, I expect you to never kill for a crown, never kill for an iron chair and for the honour of wearing a metal ring around your head. Only kill for your family if you must."
Viserys nodded solemnly wondering how he would manage to win his family's glory without killing for it.
It was perhaps not the best thing to say to Viserys, but he loved his mother and for that he nodded "I promise," he said
"Very good, my little dragon," she had said to him and he smiled at her proudly. She was his mother and she was his only family, her and Daenyre who was like a daughter to Rhaella.
Rhaella touched her belly, already it was so enlarged that Viserys was afraid his mother might burst. Her face was also very pale, her eyes dull.
He frowned. He was worried for her; he remembered Princess Elia, his brother's wife.
He remembered escaping from the Sack of King's Landing, hearing Princess Elia's screams as her children were killed before her eyes.
The Usurper's soldiers had gone to the nursery first, intent upon killing Rhaegar's heirs and hurting his wife. His brother was away fighting Robert Baratheon on the Trident.
His mother had taken his hand and together they went to the waiting ship bound for Dragonstone. He had asked about his father, King Aerys, and his mother had said that his father was safe; he had his golden soldiers and they were staying at the throne room to await the Usurper's forces, thus ensuring that his mother and he would have time to escape.
The ship was silently drifting from the port. Its sails were black so as to avoid detection. He was looking at his mother. He had a vague feeling that she was hiding her true feelings from him; that she was just showing him a brave face.
The dragon does not show fear.
She had placed her hand on her belly, he wished that she would stop it, it was frightening.
Suddenly, she turned her head to the city. Somehow, she was looking towards the direction of the throne room. It was only natural that he would notice that. Her eyes burning with a strange fire.
Her hand went up to her heart and for a moment, just a moment, Viserys felt fear. Fear for his mother, because in that moment where his mother's hand had gone from her belly to her heart he had seen a window of such pain and desperation in his mother's beautiful face.
It brought him closer to her yet he still dreaded to admit that this birth may be the very end of her, her wide lilac eyes were staring into the horizons as if she was lost even though she perfectly knew where she was.
Her silver-gold hair remained resembling lank threads about her tensed shoulders. She was thinking.
The dragon does not show fear.
She finally shared with him her contagious melancholy, it was still better than being shrouded in silence. Viserys hated silence.
"Viserys… always remember. Remember that the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms are YOURS. You are descended from dragons. Dragonblood flows in your veins. You ARE the dragon…" she hoarsely half-cried.
"Mother, why are you telling me this?" he had interrupted her. He did not understand. The note of desperation in her voice was the only indication of the importance of what she was telling him. "Isn't Daenyre also of our blood?"
"Daenyre, may very well be dead, and she would very well not be queen on her own," she lamented.
She turned to look at him and he was pierced by her lilac eyes.
"Remember this, Viserys," she whispered.
He saw the fire die in his mother's eyes. He slowly nodded his assent and said:
"Always, I promise." He vowed
A single tear fell from Rhaella's face as she looked at her young son. In him she saw the hope for House Targaryen but she felt a sense of foreboding and tragedy as well. Already, she had felt the quickening of life in her womb. Aerys' last seed had taken root.
A red sun was rising as they arrived at Dragonstone, the stronghold of their House, of Aegon and his sisters. Viserys stayed at his mother's side as they went and inspected each room. His mother had ordered the servants to tidy up the nursery. He had found this odd. In King's Landing he had his own room and the nursery was for little children like his niece, Rhaenys, cousin, Daenyre and nephew, Aegon. Unless…
"For years we have been fighting against the Blackfyres and now we still are fighting..." Rhaella tried lifting the mood, she did not wish to see Viserys sad "Dragons always fight, we are very special little dragon. People never understand us. We have dreams that they can never understand with their narrow thinking."
Viserys nodded and looked at his mother, taking note of any signs that she was with child. She always seemed to have a hand at her belly, as if shielding it.
Or perhaps she was in pain?
Rhaella raised her head from looking at her belly.
"Viserys?"
"Mother, are you well?"
"Of course, child. Why would you ask that?"
"Your hand, it is always at your belly. I was thinking you might be in pain or…" he left the sentence hanging.
"I think you know the reason, Viserys." She petulantly replied
"When is it coming, mother?" He asked
Rhaella smiled at her son. He was always asking about things, wanting to know when everything would happen. She perceived this as a good trait to be found in a king. A good strategist, a good king.
Like Rhaegar.
"Soon, my little dragon."
Viserys frowned. His pale eyebrows clashing on his forehead. He had begun to contemplate many things. He was so deep in thought that she feared he would tire himself out from thinking too much, a trait that he for once shared with her and Daenyre.
She reached out a hand to touch his forehead, to ease his nerves. The moment her hand touched his skin, she felt the fire that was in him, burning just under the surface. His fire had just begun kindling as he started straight into the sunset with a muffled fury.
He could not understand the world.
Gradually, Viserys smiled at his mother. He had noticed that her eyes seemed only to have the ghost of the strange fire which consumed them both while they were on the ship.
He promised himself to be strong for his mother, to be strong for the little dragon she was carrying inside her. He was a Targaryen, a little dragon, though little still a dragon.
I will take back the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. They are made for me. They are mine.
"It is a song in his blood. Only in blood." he thought.
They stayed at Dragonstone for many moons. His mother slowly losing her strength while the little dragon flapped and grew inside her. He tried to ignite the fire in her lilac eyes but it was to no avail. She was slowly fading before his eyes.
Into a memory.
He had asked her once why she had that strange look as she gazed at the Red Keep.
She had hesitated and then turned to look at him fully. Her lilac eyes to his. The same color, yet there was a hint of a feverish look in his own. Pale as they were.
"Your father was not just my husband, Viserys."
He nodded for her to go on. He had known this. It was Targaryen tradition to marry one's sister or, in the case of his mother, one's brother. His brother Rhaegar had taken a Martell as a wife, Princess Elia of Dorne, since they had no sisters. Viserys and his brother were the only children of Aerys and Rhaella. Now it was only his and Daenyre a daughter in all but name. By now the only sister that he would seem to have or love.
"He was also my brother… The moment his- …ugh life, I felt- ah", his mother turned away from him. For a moment, caught in a painful memory.
Dragons have premonitions.
"Mother, it's alright. You don't have to tell me…"
"No, Viserys. You must know this…"
Viserys gulped. He did not want his mother to be pained by his questions. Did she not suffer enough?
"I felt his pain the moment his life was taken from him… the moment his throat was cut open by his golden guard, Lannister. I felt his life leave his body. My husband, my brother was dead, I did not particularly love him. He was seldom kind to me yet I felt his pain and spirit crushed. Maybe I loved him after all."
Viserys took this all in without a wavering look. His eyes were fixed on his mother. He hoped his silent presence was soothing to his mother's grief. It was.
"How is this possible?" he whispered, remembering how Daenyre had told him the same thing when her father died. Did he have this gift? "Daenyre wasn't lying?"
His mother did not answer, instead she gave him a sad smile.
"Most historians in the Seven Kingdoms do not know how the Dragons came to do our bidding. They think that we have some tool that we use to manipulate them. Do you have an idea how we control the dragons, Viserys?" She lamented adopting a sterner tone
Viserys was shaken from his concentration by the unexpected question. He shook his head then he saw the spark of fire in his mother's eyes.
"The dragons are drawn to us. We can speak to dragons. It is our blood right as Targaryens. And this is how I was able to know the exact moment your father's life was stolen from him. He spoke to me in my mind."
Viserys paled at this revelation.
We can send our thoughts to each other? Like letters?
Yes we can, my little dragon.
"How?"
His mother smiled at him. She was amused at his shock. Viserys returned a smile. He was happy to have been the cause of her joy, for once.
"I will teach you how to control this."
She smiled at him then. Her eyes slowly dulling down.
Viserys had noticed that she was getting tired so he left her with a word of gratitude, intent upon seeking the servants to make his mother more comfortable and bring back her health.
Daenyre's arrival also soothed Rhaella extremely, however no matter how sweetly she sang on the harp it failed to help her and her songs turned to very sad ones.
Daenyre's health was failing her and she was lying in a tangled lilac and silver mess on the floor, her body was shaking and she was crying.
Her hair a mess her eyes red with deceit. She was afraid to look at Rhaella, Viserys was not.
Blood.
There is blood.
Blood on the bed.
Blood of the dragon. The finest in the known world.
"Viserys…", he hears her rasp his name.
"Mother…?", he approaches her. Confused and frightened. He does not care that he is showing fear. He knows that something important is happening.
He holds her hand and looks into her lilac eyes. He is surprised to find the strange fire in her eyes again. Before he can speak, she utters:
"Viserys, Daenyre, you and she are the last dragons. Remember what I told you."
"She?" Viserys asked in shock as Daenyre got up rubbing her eyes
"Yes, a sister for my little dragon."
She gave him a sweet smile. He feels fear again. Fear for his mother because he knows what will happen next. He can feel it in the air.
"My little dragon… do not fret, you have made me happy." she whispers directly to him. "She shall be Daen..."
Remember, Viserys.
Always, mother.
I love you.
He echoes the sentiment before realizing that she is gone forever. Her eyes glaze over. Her hands cold.
Crack!
Lightning strikes the roof and the sound startles the baby. A wailing sound was emitted from the side of the bed. He slowly disentangles his fingers from his mother's hands.
Stepping to the side of the bed, he is frowning. He feels desolate. He has just lost his mother because of this baby. He does not want to deal with her ever.
He could not look at her.
"Give her to me." Daenyre wailed as she took the bundle in her hands, the little babe finally stopped crying as she was gently handled by this sister of hers.
As the storm was wailing and the room shook with Rhaella's death, and the death of the last queen of Westeros the only people remaining were the last dragons, all with faces and souls paler than their hair
"Hush." Daenyre gently cooed, in that angle looking the very image of Rhaella, they seemed to look alike very well gods give that she grows as much a beauty too. "Viserys, she has your father's violet eyes, look."
Viserys did not look away from his mother's corpse "No!" He screamed
"What should we name her?" she obediently asked "Rhaella's last word was Daen... surely that could not be my name she intended."
"Name her Daena for all I care," he growled.
"Daenerys it should be then, Daenerys Stormborn, named after the Targaryen Princess which loved and was loved by a Blackfyre; Daemon I." she madly mused to herself.
Viserys sudden furious actions were disturbing the tragic and stoic silence.
"Viserys... Don't leave me here, at least take your sister," she wailed as she placed the baby in her brother's reach
She had the violet eyes of Aerys and the silver-gold hair of Rhaella it seemed. Instead Viserys helped her up.
"Do not fret, you have made me happy," he continued lamenting as he drew her to him, "We may very well have a kingdom to take, do you wish to be my..." He trailed off as the rest of the sentence was muffled by the lightening and the soldiers banging towards the door.
After that she disappeared and neither of them have seen each other ever again.
The last memory of Rhaella left him through the darkness, yet the newer memory of home followed him to this very day "I'll take care of you little dragon," he told the baby before running.
He is continuously looking down on it now. He reaches out a hand and is surprised that the baby grabs the littlest finger of his left hand.
He uses his other hand to touch the baby's pale hair; he notices that it is the same as his own. She will have my eyes too, he knows this.
In time he would love her for she is now the only thing that he has left.
Everything that I am is her own.
Daenerys' POV:
Daenerys twisted the piece of cloth around her fingers for a much longer time that she could remember.
Her brother was gone to the night markets the second time this week, most likely drunk as Ser Jorah reported.
Why was it suddenly so hard for Viserys to adapt, he was married and bound to this army just as she was to her sun and stars and she remembered how her wedding did not come easily.
For many nights afterward, she buries her hands in her own heat, trying to find something. Just doesn't know what exactly, much less how to reach it. The more she focuses, the more the feeling slips from her grasp.
Blood of the dragon, she thinks. Fire.
She's finally found it.
The world exists twice: the life Daenerys lives, and the life denied her.
In another world, her brother might have been her husband, with no Daenyre and no rebellion. She would have been born too late for Rhaegar, but just in time for Viserys. They would have been betrothed as soon as she could take steps; she would have been raised knowing it was him she was for, and only him. Maybe they would have been happy, then. Maybe he would have been different.
In this world, however, he is not. And the life denied to her just might be better.
Could this be her home?
He had always been quick to anger; she knew that. But he had been quick to cool too. Now, though, here – here with the road dusty on their skin and the constant sway of horses beneath them, her brother's mind is growing unsteady.
Daenerys sympathizes; with the constant heat and sun, the endless horsemeat, she'd been unhappy too. Unhappiness shows itself differently in Viserys' heart, however; Viserys knows only hope and disappointment and, once disappointed, only rage.
She now had her own people, her own people to follow her and her own family to love her like the Dothraki did.
Viserys would never have his crown and Dany truly hoped that he knew that to sever even more pain.
She strokes the ever growing curve on her womb with her callused palm
"Rhaego," she thinks, the stallion who mounts the world.
She knew that she would feel like nothing if all that she could ever be was a mother, a sister and a wife, no matter what that brought her.
She had never been nothing though. She was blood of the dragon.
Viserys though delusional, weak and mad was never as bad a brother as he was a guardian.
She could faintly remember the fire ignited between them less than a moon ago.
He was openly shocked. Her blood sings.
"I am a Khaleesi of the Dothraki," Daenerys had said, voice rough with exertion and emotion. "I am the wife of the great Khal and I carry his son inside me." Wife, mother; these words have taken on more meaning than sister. "The next time you raise a hand to me will be the last time you have hands."
Viserys is silent, dumbfounded. I am Khaleesi, she thinks, and he is nothing.
He will never hit her again.
Running from the assassins' knifes all these years maddened him.
She was now growing afraid of her own thoughts. Wondering why she was lamenting Viserys, as if he were... Already dead.
Even dragons can die. Her brother did die, did he not? She melancholy felt in her heart.
Valar Morghulis.
Daenerys has had a dream that in the struggle, they became flipped – like a coin, she dreams that she pushed Viserys onto his back as she had done with Doreah. She dreams that she holds down his wrists and calls him the beggar king, a failure, a scared little boy who wouldn't know which way to point a sword if his life depended on it.
Being in Viserys' state of mind troubled her, even in mere dreams.
Dreams were not mere to her, dreams were not mere to to the blood of the dragon. Ever.
Premonitions.
The cold night air in Vaes Dothrak smashed against her pale face as if they were blowing out all the naive thoughts, dreams-which-would-never-happen or dellusions that she around her like Aerys' Kingsguard did.
All the bad that Viserys had and whisked them off far away. As she saw a purple shot though the midday sky she then realized that she was very tired and would sleep how she always had.
With the black dragon egg which Viserys almost stole held against her chest as she slept as a babe, alone for one of the only nights in her life.
In fewer blinks that she could count on both of her hands she was asleep, reconciled in a dream that she had with the black dragon that she saw every night.
It's fire never harmed her.
Fire cannot kill a dragon.
She finally let go of the red and black dragon cloth that she was about to show Viserys, it didn't matter anymore.
Daenyre's POV:
It shouldn't have been like this, a Blackfyre Princess, the last of her name shouldn't be lying in the arms of a Targaryen, prince or not.
The last enlightenment of the setting sun deftly shone through the rags for curtains, she felt too faint to stand up, but she didn't want to leave the position that she was lying in anyway.
A melancholy state just settled over Viserys, and Daenyre strangely felt it too, hers more violent. He went to his tent for he drank too much again.
Today was her first sword fighting lesson and she enjoyed it immensely, the blade despite heavy seemed to fit through her long fingers perfectly. The heaviness of the sword however never hindered the speed and instincts that she developed those past years.
Viserys was still asleep, she never remembered being today, just for maybe about one hour or so.
It was Daenerys' feast and it was time for her to get up to prepare herself.
"Serys?" She groaned slowly trying to unsettle his embrace
"What?" He asked clearly still dizzy, still holding onto her
"It is your sister's feast," Daenyre added detecting the strong whiff of wine coming her way
Viserys then strangely shot up from bed and pulled his ragged jacket back on himself, it was the same jacket that he wore every time.
"Perhaps you should have worn what your sister gave you," she offered
"How many times do I have to tell you?" He said in a hiccuped stutter. "I don't wear savage clothes, I am not savage."
Daenyre pursed her lips worried about what the Khal might think, Vaes Dothrak was a sacred place and the Khal would not be kind to him, they had rules. Rules which he did not respect nor acknowledge in existence.
"It's best perhaps that you should not go, Your grace." she sweetly tried to convince "Stay here and rest I will go."
She continued pulling on one of the cotton tan shirts that she had also received from Daenerys, it was most likely the only shade of brown which ever suited her, it was set with opals and seed pearls at the collar and it brang out this new silvery-er tint in her hair.
"I am their king," insisted Viserys as he was heading out of the door.
"Then be it on your head," Daenyre shot back
As she also went out of the door, Viserys caught her by the wrist, it seemed that even with wine causing his head his mind still worked. Before Daenyre knew it Viserys leaned over and kissed her once again, this time more strenuous than the last.
Wine was all that Daenyre could then think.
As he finished he staggered out of the tent and onto the way to the feast, Daenyre continued pursing her lips suddenly annoyed at how he seemed to do anything he wanted to her and, the fickle truth that she never went against him, never seemed to have a problem with him.
As she also stumbled like a weakling, she came across the tent in which this ostentatious feast was meant to be held in and walked past the ragged tent flap, conscious on her feet and her steps.
The Khal surprisingly bowed his head in approval for her to sit down and she returned his gesture, more coldly though.
"Maegi" she heard one Dothraki utter defiantly, the silence erupted into every corner of the room as she squarely eyed him, dark eyes to dark eyes, hopefully he understood that she couldn't wait until they all live Vaes Dothrak where swords are illegal.
Her sword Blackfyre had not had a decent taste of blood for many centuries, it waited enough.
She finally sat down and obediently watched the dancers, wishing that she was back in the free cities were everything even the dirty aspects of the silk had a silk to them, were ladies all were brightly colored dresses and had long bright tresses which scattered into the wind.
A woman should know when she was not wanted she told herself.
However Viserys had not the smallest clue as he stumbled into the tent deftly, no one helped him to his feet. Even if he was going to be a long soon.
"Daenerys!" He rigorously called out as the light of the room seemed to grow dimmer as he came closer "Where is my sister?" He inquired
It did not take long until Daenerys' violet eyes seemed to scream worry.
Viserys continued his mad dance-walk as he blindly stared across the room coughing.
"Khal Drogo! I am here for the feast!" Announced Viserys brazenly introducing himself to a place where he knew that he did not belong. "The whore's feast," he added
"Where is my PLACE!" demanded Viserys
"You have a place, back there," the Khal told him in what little he knew of the common tongue.
Viserys smiled a broad untrue smile emotion seemed to slip out of his lilac eyes and was subsequently replaced by a defiant kindling flame, ready to burst, like a dragon.
Viserys pointed and Viserys pouted until he pointed a crooked finger to that ragged seat, which was at the back of the tent "That is no place for a king!" Bellowed he
Ser Jorah tried to approach him, perhaps in his mind the dragon could be kept dormant, but Viserys numbly shook his hand of him as if he knew that he was not completely loyal to the last dragon.
The slash of Viserys' sword was expected, he constantly drew it out despite not knowing the first thing about sword fighting
"GET YOUR HANDS off me." Viserys drunkenly screamed "NO ONE TOUCHES THE DRAGON"
Daenerys saw her brother make a fool of himself yet she could not empathize him, not even for all the family's sake. He would not like to be pitied anyways even though his actions seemed to yearn for just that.
"Viserys! Please." stood up Daenerys, Viserys' eyes then store at Daenerys.
"There she is," he stated his eyes were flashing, hate, pride and bravado were mixed in them "and there is Daenyre, convinced that I am finished with her, I am never going to be finished with you bastard, just you wait." he quietly added as he turned to face the Khal and Khaleesi.
"Stop" Ser Jorah cried out going forward to stop Viserys from what he was going to do next "They will kill us all"
Viserys then just seemed to laugh as if about 100 Dothraki were not looking at him, he was alone his emotion was the only thing that mattered he could do what he liked "they can't kill us! They can't shed blood in their sacred city," he menacingly smiled "but I can, and I will!"
His gaze was ripped off of Ser Jorah then Daenyre and finally Daenerys, her feeling were reflecting through her gaze as she looked at him slowly changing from a defiant kindling to a more affirmative flame.
They were saying something.
With not even the slightest hesitation Viserys persisted to pressing his sword against Daenerys' womb, "Leave her be," Daenyre tried to command but it came out as more of a plea "Please Viserys, leave the child alone, he is your nephew."
Daenyre couldn't help herself, yet the dragon inside her was shaking its head in disappointment as she was showing a sign of weakness, if Rhaenyras was a person it should leave her, 'I am not worthy of having a dragon, I am not worthy of being a Blackfyre and having a dragon' she continued brooding
She went 15 years almost 16 without every truly caring about someone (or so she thought) and she would proudly live like that until she regains her throne, yet Viserys detracts her and makes her feel weakened yet compromised with what she had and Daenerys a mirror of herself, this is weakness. "Love is a weakness," she chanted in her head.
"More terrifying to me than the Andals find fire," she continued thinking
She turned her gaze to Daenerys, her eyes seemed dead yet furious at his drunken blubber.
He was dead to her.
As Khal Drogo also eyed the Dragon Prince he gruffly stated something in Dothraki, it was a sentence which Daenyre seemed to understand perfectly, there was a honorable promise of a crown and it seemed to her that there was a less honorable hint of death.
Viserys petulant scowl turned into a puzzled one as he realized that those two savages have heard him.
Daenerys eyed Khal Drogo and proudly nodded, any hint of smile was hidden everywhere else but her violet eyes.
In all her golden glory she turned to face Viserys alone as if there was no one in the room and proclaimed: "He said yes, you shall have a golden crown that men shall tremble to behold"
She was not lying, as far as Daenyre could tell.
The beggar king then did something that both Daenyre and Daenerys would have never expected him to do; genuinely smile.
"That was all I ever wanted in my entire life," he continued smiling, no matter how genuine and happy it appeared it tore Daenyre inside as she could feel in her bones what was.
It was the first time in her life that she regretted being blessed with a strong premonition.
He looked pathetically weak as he freely basked in this lie, as he seemed to smile with his whole being as he looked as if he was on the brink of crying, which he probably was.
His eyes grew wide, vast and deep with a new-found adoration of his army. Drogo would help him, all these terrible days and mostly sleepless nights that he had to suffer we're hard-earned and well deserved after all.
"What was promised," he said trying to calm his tone and self therefore failing and continuing smiling like a madman.
As Dany and Drogo looked at each other stifled out a little laugh before truly laughing with happiness.
Daenyre felt brought back to the days where Viserys did not beg and was a normal child, like her. When they were both normal.
It tore her apart.
"KURU MAI!" Drogo barked as Viserys' smile fell with his happiness while his kos held Viserys by his wrists.
Crack! Went his slender pale wrists along with his dreams and so-called throne as he started crying out in agony and shock.
Daenyre covered her mouth to stifle a yelp, and was about to cover her eyes too as Viserys continued begging - what he was good at and surely knew better thank himself.
If he were to die tonight she would at least like to see the last of his face that she would ever see, her innocence crashing and tumbling after him.
Emotions were rushing through her confused mind and her heart (all completely negative).
Viserys had almost never been good or gentle to her, yet a part of hers was already in him. All these years masquerading as a Ashara Dayne's Bastard "Aurora Sand" to running around in the free cities she felt safe because he was alive, she could feel death creep to her like a snake.
The Gold of Drogo's medallion reflected in Daenyre's dark mauve eyes - with bits of red into them, like a comet as it flew into the ball with a 'clunk', how she felt the hate for that barbarian. She never felt like she hated anyone before, and this was a stupid reason too.
And she should have hated Aerys, he killed her father! How was Viserys as important in her heart as her father would ever be? A Targaryen? How?
What if it was for the best? She would be a queen! Dragons kill, dragons see their dead squirm and burn in their own flames as they perish. She is a dragon.
Time seemed to pass to fast for Daenyre's mind to process what she had just witnessed.
She felt herself being lifted, she could feel her dragon in the night sky, she could feel Rhaenyras approach then tent. The dragon was now above the tent it was hurling towards the plain boring atmosphere, she did not know if she wanted the dragon to come.
She could now see the three eggs, the ones that Viserys should have had. They were in a wooden case, just how they were. She squinted as she was short sighted to see that a couple of scales chipped off of each egg, most on the white one, a couple on the green one yet none on the black one.
The dragon finally seemed to be at the door as Viserys screamed and cried until he was out of breath, his last breath was baited and ragged with screaming yet she could make out the shape of her name all the same.
"I AM THE DRAGON, I AM THE DRAGON AND I WANT MY CROWN!" She remembered his frantically screaming red in the face with madness and effort "I AM THE DRAGON AND I WILL HAVE MU CROWN"
She thought those were his last words but the one name which was heard past the screams actually was, they were terrible dreadful noises, finally worsened by the gold.
Brilliant Molten Gold fell on the prince's head. His body fervently shivered and kicked while the molten gold set the Scarlett silk to smolder and filled his mouth and face.
The part that frightened her the most were the screams, they were inhuman; like a dragon's.
"Khaleesi?" Asked Ser Jorah uncertainly
"He was no dragon, fire could not kill a dragon" Daenerys calmly chanted to herself.
She was too busy shivering and squirming to look at Daenerys and her cold beautifully calm look, that people praised after they left the tent.
This death crashed them mood of the feast as everyone left after half a hour or so.
Daenyre was last to leave the terrible atmosphere.
She did not know how long nor did she care to know how long she aimlessly stared at his dead body, everything was silent and dead like the two of them.
Even with a shawl (Which Ser Franklin Flowers gave her) about her back Daenyre felt cold and brittle - one more bend and a snap would follow.
She was confused.
Her childhood was now gone yet the more she looked at Viserys' lifeless corpse the happier and more relieved she was, not regretting that she stayed (after all there was nothing in her tent anymore).
As lifted herself of the rough chair and next to him she thought that she saw a sudden kick coming from Viserys leg and a twitch however she was a woman subject to too much dellusions and hallucinations to believe her eyes at this point.
Despite the almost complete coverage of cold on his scalp his eyes were still open and lilac strewn with big red veins about them.
They were still as terrifying dead as they were alluring when he was alive.
However she still closed them.
What would she do now? Continue following her path, right? Her dream, to go to Westeros and be Queen there! Of course!
It is only someone dying, right? She would surely have to see many people die and command many people to die when she will be queen!
Would Viserys have made a decent king after all? No one could now know, anything potential died with him. He never had something since he began begging, but he was finally beginning to have something, since he arrived at Vaes Dothrak. It was not exactly an object.
After she proceeded to stare at the corpse, she realized that it was no use memorizing the curve of its body and such, it would unfortunately be painted on the inside of her eyelids for as long and she had to live.
As she left she found her dragon right next to the tent as she once felt, as she left his corpse and gave its cheek one last caress she left into the air once again, it was the longest, highest and fastest ride that she had ever flown.
She finally felt what appeared to be relief in her heart, even though to a plain eye Viserys seemed most certainly dead to this earth.
When she felt angry and alone her dragon would hurl a fireball after another at the stars as the air seemed to embrace its mistress.
It grew rather large and ferocious since she came to Vaes Dothrak, clibing Onto it started to become hard.
All the soldiers and horses it ate at Qohor seemed to have increased his size. Just wait until he arrives in Westeros Daenyre thought pensively smiling.
But now her Dragon Prince lay dead, her Dragon Prince is dead.