Just wanted to write something about Viserys and Balerion since their bond fascinates me. Also wanted to write something kinda nice for Viserys.


Viserys understood that he was a weak man. Unlike his brother, Daemon, who seemed always sure to the point of reckless arrogance, Viserys preferred to deliberate and delegate. His grandfather's peace was a prosperous one and he believed ambition and radical thought would derail that peace. Yet, even as he is constantly reminded of the precarious succession between his heir, Rhaenrya, and his children by Alicent, he does nothing. He knows what he must do, but his love for them all has paralyzed him to only half-measures.

Already, he remembers the headache of the royal court where the so-called 'Blacks' and 'Greens' traded barbed words. Viserys would have laughed at the immaturity of those members of his court if not for the fact that their petty squabbles were built on the foundation of a succession crisis of his own making. Viserys instead let out a tired sigh as he dreaded what other complaint Alicent would give him about the Blacks, Rhaenyra, his children, or even himself.

Viserys shook his head to clear away those thoughts before they settled deeply in his mind. Those concerns would haunt him for days to come but as his gaze fell upon the model replica of Valyria, he pledged he would not let those thoughts sour his last, untarnished joy.

As his eyes glided slowly over the great towers and grand walls of the miniature city, Viserys remembered when he saw such glory. The claim that he pored over the histories and stories to recreate such a wonder was such a laughable lie that Viserys found a constant humor in the fact that they all easily accepted it. In truth, he saw Valyria at its height in all its peerless glory when he was seven-and-ten.


As Viserys mounted the lumbering beast that was Balerion, he felt a bit guilty for wanting to go for a flight. Though the legendary Balerion accepted him as his rider, it was obvious that the ancient dragon was long enfeebled, his movements slow and sluggish. But even in his severely weakened state, Viserys felt Balerion's resolute will to fly, to share the skies with his bonded rider.

As Balerion finally took off from the ground, Viserys felt the ancient power of the dragon reverberate from under him. Each heavy flap of Balerion's wings sounded like the onset of storms and each one felt like a great earthquake below him. Viserys clung tightly to the handles of his saddle to secure himself, knowing that a fall from Balerion's height alone would kill him.

Every second that passed brought Viserys closer to the clouds until he was able to reach them with his own hands. Even though he felt both excitement and fear in equal measure in the time leading up to this flight, now that he was in the air, he felt neither excitement nor fear. Viserys only felt whole and free, as if he was always meant for the skies. Songs and stories never did the heavens justice, he thought.

As Viserys enjoyed the liberation of the skies, his eyes fell upon King's Landing. Though small from high up, Viserys was struck by how magnificent the city truly was when taken in whole. The Red Keep, the Dragon Pit, the Great Sept, all grand structures now made even more awe-inspiring when seen together. That was the seat of the Targaryens. That was their home.

Suddenly, Balerion gave out a low growl that shuddered throughout his enormous body. And as Viserys looked upon sun-kissed King's Landing in one moment, his eyes soon looked upon the moonlit splendor of Valyria in the next.

Viserys was wholly mesmerized. Around them were the many high spires that housed Valyrian lords. Intricate sphinxes made of flawless marble stood guard proudly along the walls of those spires as decorative firepits showcased dancing flames. The streets themselves glimmered like gold under the moonlight and were alive with many proud Valyrian citizens walking about. Rivers of lava twisted throughout the city evidently built around them, flowing freely from breaches in the volcanoes, their bright warmth illuminating much of the capital. Carved into those same mountains and volcanoes were stone skulls of large dragons whose mouths were the entrances to hidden yet certainly grand structures beneath the earth.

But the glory of Valyria was not found in its splendid architecture, but in the skies around them. Hundreds of dragons and dragonriders flew alongside Viserys and Balerion, many of comparable size and many more of greater stature. They flew free and proud, enjoying the comforting energy of Valyria's magic. Enjoying the familiarity of Valyria's skies.

Enjoying home.

And with another moment, Viserys was back under the sun, flying over the now-disappointing view of King's Landing.

Viserys immediately looked upon Balerion. From their bond, he could feel the deep longing and loneliness of the ancient dragon. He may have been the Black Dread whose flames forged the Iron Throne and brought an entire realm to heel, but Viserys saw the weight of Balerion's age. Gone were the years of conquests and battles from his soul, they were left with Aegon and Maegor. Gone was his desire to return home, a dream forever scarred by his disastrous flight with Aerea. Now, Balerion only wished to share the memory of Valyria, of his home, as he wished it to be remembered.

For a long time, Balerion was the last dragon that bore witness Valyria at its height. On that day, it became two.


The pair never took to the skies after that. Balerion had used up too much energy to muster up any more strength for another. Yet despite that, Viserys was often in the dragon pit, keeping Balerion company in his last months.

Though they could not share any words, Viserys knew that Balerion loved him fully as he did all his previous riders despite their short bond. And Viserys knew that he loved Balerion as well. He was Balerion's rider, and Balerion his dragon.

It was when Balerion finally passed away that Viserys planned to recreate what he saw. Without Balerion, Viserys feared his memory would eventually fail him, thus the glory of Valyria would be truly and totally lost.

In honor of the great dragon that accepted him, the dragon that he cherished. In honor of Balerion's dearest memory of his home, Viserys would not let the world forget.

Even as his body betrays him at every turn, decaying and becoming undone by an infernal curse, Viserys continued his work on Valyria, ever meticulous in preserving the memory. And as he took his last breath upon his deathbed, from his delirium, Viserys had one moment of clarity.

He saw himself, without sickness and weakness, riding Balerion, full of strength and vigor, over the glory of Valyria alongside the countless dragonlords that came before him.

He was finally home.