The Last Dragons, Ch. 4 A Golden Crown
Title: The Last Dragons
Series: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen
Rating: T
Warnings: violence, blood and gore, angst
Status: WIP
Offsite: fanfiction.net | dreamwidth |
Chapter 4: A Golden Crown
He is watching Dany eat the horse heart.
For the life of him, he feels fear. Not for himself, no... but for her. It is uncommon but it is there. A small glimmer, hidden in his glass heart.
He examines it. Why should he fear for her?
She is nothing more than a tool to ensure the acquisition of an army.
Yet there it is... fear clinking around in his heart, making him ill at ease, breathing a little rapidly and wanting to go near her, his sister, to make sure she is not hurt.
What?
Making sure that she isn't hurt? That is a foreign thought. Why should he care for her? He asks himself.
He muses... thinking back on what she had done. The wound she had given him, knowing it would scar his face. He does not touch it, he fears what the others would think, he fears drawing their attention to it... they might wonder who dared to hurt him.
Him! The dragon prince, no, dragon king! He looks to his side to see if anyone has noticed his musings. No, they have not seen him. In fact they have not given him any notice. They are all looking at Dany. They are even chanting some nonsense, the only thing he manages to understand is a slight sound resembling Dany's full name, Daenerys, although it sounds more like 'den-air-is'.
She is still eating the heart. Blood dripping from her mouth.
Chewing, chewing, chewing.
He chances a glance at Mormont and finds the naked emotion on his companion's face. Mouth open, eyes greedily taking in the sight before them.
Why would Mormont be acting like a dying man offered food and water?
Of course!
The man must be taken with his sister. She would seem like a pretty little thing to Mormont's eyes.
He is interrupted in his musings by the clear sound of Dany's voice proclaiming something unintelligible. He does not understand her but he does hear a familiar word... Rhaego, which sounded a lot like his brother's name.
He used to tell her of their family, of Rhaegar and Elia and their children, of their father and mother. He wonders when she stopped asking about them. Thinks back on it and figures out that the last time she mentions them was when he hit her for complaining to him that her stomach hurt and why couldn't they sell the golden crown which he was bringing along with them.
The golden crown which was his last reminder of their mother.
****************************************************************************************************
They had been walking towards a little city near the coast of the Narrow Sea, living off water and some berries. He had lugged the small rucksack for a few miles before stopping and telling his sister to hold the rucksack for him.
He had changed his clothes and thought it best to look presentable for he was, is, a prince. It would do well to look the part, even though he sometimes didn't feel like it. He looked over at Dany and gave her a cleaner dress to wear.
They had continued walking along, stomachs grumbling, the heat of the mid-day sun slowly boiling their brains. They entered the city and were slowly making their way around the outer parts. Asking around for any loyal followers of their father, the so-called Mad King.
Asking around and finding no clear answers, some even turning them away with a slight sneer on their faces; he had a feeling that they derived satisfaction from seeing the descendants of the Targaryens, the ones who claimed to be born from dragons, as wanderers forced to debase themselves in order to survive.
But no! He would not do that!
He would not beg and plead. He was a Targaryen, by blood and authority, he expected them to cater to his wishes.
Yet these past few years had slowly challenged that thought. Sometimes begging was the only way to get food and shelter for himself and Dany.
Dany.
Dany, who had cried after being thrown out of Ser Willlem's house, or the house with the red door if you asked her.
She talked of it as one would talk of home. But that was not home.
Home was Westeros, the Seven Kingdoms.
He had renewed his promise then, to take back the seven kingdoms, if not for himself then for his sister. Promised to give her a home where they would remember who they were.
Targaryens, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms, born of dragons, last of their kind.
****************************************************************************************************
After not finding anyone who would take them in, they had made camp a little way out of the city. Dany stood beside him as he rummaged in the rucksack to look for anything they could exchange for food.
He knew they couldn't live off berries indefinitely. Young as he was, he knew that they needed to eat more. Already, he was feeling the effects of continued hunger. His clothes seemed loose-fitting and he sometimes felt like he was going out of his mind, wanting to do this and that, any hindrance enough to enrage him. He struggled to control what he felt, the feeling of going crazy and the rage.
Rage.
Feeling as though there was a burning in his chest and mind.
Further compounded by hunger. Must be the dragon part of me, he sometimes reasoned with himself.
He had looked at Dany and observed that she was slowly looking like their mother before she was born. Face paler than usual and limbs slowly thinning out. He had easily felt the bones on her wrist when he held her hand.
As he rummaged through the rucksack, moving things about, the crown had fallen out. Dany had picked it up and was looking at it.
He had not given it any thought. He knew his sister would take care of the crown. It was the last thing they had of their mother's.
His hands came up empty and he made a sound of displeasure.
Dany spoke then. It would have been better if she hadn't, he mused.
"I'm hungry 'serys."
"As am I, Dany. But we don't have any berries left and we have nothing of value to bargain for food."
"What about the crown, 'serys? Wouldn't it be enough to fetch us some food?"
****************************************************************************************************
He does not remember hitting her.
He only remembered the rage. Of hearing her speak such callous words and then seeing red.
****************************************************************************************************
His sister was looking at him like he was the foulest monster in all of Essos.
She was lying on her back, her arms trying to shield her face. A slight pink bruise slowly forming on her arms.
What have I done?
What have I done?
He did not like seeing the fearful look in his sister's eyes.
Why did I do this?
He tried to remember what they were talking about before he hit her.
He had said that they had nothing left to bargain with. And then… then Dany remarked that they should sell their mother's crown.
Sell their mother's crown?
That's mad.
Mad.
MAD…
Mad… like the their father.
No. No. No.
Stop!
Do NOT think of him.
I am NOT mad.
We are not mad.
We are merely hungry.
Yes.
Hungry.
****************************************************************************************************
But despite what he tried to reason with himself, he felt it in his mind. The madness. Madness stemming from the rage.
Rage he has felt for the utter unfairness of life.
Why did they have to leave home?
Why did they have to leave King's Landing?
Why did his father have to die?
Why did his mother have to die?
Why did he have to take care of Dany?
Because you have to. You promised.
****************************************************************************************************
He had turned to Dany then.
Spoken the words that he thought would make it justifiable somehow but never could.
"You should not have awakened the dragon."
****************************************************************************************************
Fanfic Navigation Links:
Chapter 1: Of Pale Moonlight
Chapter 2: Remember, Viserys
Chapter 3: An Old Dark Cloth
Chapter 4: (You are here)
Chapter 5: A Slight Hiss
Series: A Song of Ice and Fire
Characters: Viserys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen
Rating: T
Warnings: violence, blood and gore, angst
Status: WIP
Offsite: fanfiction.net | dreamwidth |
Chapter 4: A Golden Crown
He is watching Dany eat the horse heart.
For the life of him, he feels fear. Not for himself, no... but for her. It is uncommon but it is there. A small glimmer, hidden in his glass heart.
He examines it. Why should he fear for her?
She is nothing more than a tool to ensure the acquisition of an army.
Yet there it is... fear clinking around in his heart, making him ill at ease, breathing a little rapidly and wanting to go near her, his sister, to make sure she is not hurt.
What?
Making sure that she isn't hurt? That is a foreign thought. Why should he care for her? He asks himself.
He muses... thinking back on what she had done. The wound she had given him, knowing it would scar his face. He does not touch it, he fears what the others would think, he fears drawing their attention to it... they might wonder who dared to hurt him.
Him! The dragon prince, no, dragon king! He looks to his side to see if anyone has noticed his musings. No, they have not seen him. In fact they have not given him any notice. They are all looking at Dany. They are even chanting some nonsense, the only thing he manages to understand is a slight sound resembling Dany's full name, Daenerys, although it sounds more like 'den-air-is'.
She is still eating the heart. Blood dripping from her mouth.
Chewing, chewing, chewing.
He chances a glance at Mormont and finds the naked emotion on his companion's face. Mouth open, eyes greedily taking in the sight before them.
Why would Mormont be acting like a dying man offered food and water?
Of course!
The man must be taken with his sister. She would seem like a pretty little thing to Mormont's eyes.
He is interrupted in his musings by the clear sound of Dany's voice proclaiming something unintelligible. He does not understand her but he does hear a familiar word... Rhaego, which sounded a lot like his brother's name.
He used to tell her of their family, of Rhaegar and Elia and their children, of their father and mother. He wonders when she stopped asking about them. Thinks back on it and figures out that the last time she mentions them was when he hit her for complaining to him that her stomach hurt and why couldn't they sell the golden crown which he was bringing along with them.
The golden crown which was his last reminder of their mother.
****************************************************************************************************
They had been walking towards a little city near the coast of the Narrow Sea, living off water and some berries. He had lugged the small rucksack for a few miles before stopping and telling his sister to hold the rucksack for him.
He had changed his clothes and thought it best to look presentable for he was, is, a prince. It would do well to look the part, even though he sometimes didn't feel like it. He looked over at Dany and gave her a cleaner dress to wear.
They had continued walking along, stomachs grumbling, the heat of the mid-day sun slowly boiling their brains. They entered the city and were slowly making their way around the outer parts. Asking around for any loyal followers of their father, the so-called Mad King.
Asking around and finding no clear answers, some even turning them away with a slight sneer on their faces; he had a feeling that they derived satisfaction from seeing the descendants of the Targaryens, the ones who claimed to be born from dragons, as wanderers forced to debase themselves in order to survive.
But no! He would not do that!
He would not beg and plead. He was a Targaryen, by blood and authority, he expected them to cater to his wishes.
Yet these past few years had slowly challenged that thought. Sometimes begging was the only way to get food and shelter for himself and Dany.
Dany.
Dany, who had cried after being thrown out of Ser Willlem's house, or the house with the red door if you asked her.
She talked of it as one would talk of home. But that was not home.
Home was Westeros, the Seven Kingdoms.
He had renewed his promise then, to take back the seven kingdoms, if not for himself then for his sister. Promised to give her a home where they would remember who they were.
Targaryens, rulers of the Seven Kingdoms, born of dragons, last of their kind.
****************************************************************************************************
After not finding anyone who would take them in, they had made camp a little way out of the city. Dany stood beside him as he rummaged in the rucksack to look for anything they could exchange for food.
He knew they couldn't live off berries indefinitely. Young as he was, he knew that they needed to eat more. Already, he was feeling the effects of continued hunger. His clothes seemed loose-fitting and he sometimes felt like he was going out of his mind, wanting to do this and that, any hindrance enough to enrage him. He struggled to control what he felt, the feeling of going crazy and the rage.
Rage.
Feeling as though there was a burning in his chest and mind.
Further compounded by hunger. Must be the dragon part of me, he sometimes reasoned with himself.
He had looked at Dany and observed that she was slowly looking like their mother before she was born. Face paler than usual and limbs slowly thinning out. He had easily felt the bones on her wrist when he held her hand.
As he rummaged through the rucksack, moving things about, the crown had fallen out. Dany had picked it up and was looking at it.
He had not given it any thought. He knew his sister would take care of the crown. It was the last thing they had of their mother's.
His hands came up empty and he made a sound of displeasure.
Dany spoke then. It would have been better if she hadn't, he mused.
"I'm hungry 'serys."
"As am I, Dany. But we don't have any berries left and we have nothing of value to bargain for food."
"What about the crown, 'serys? Wouldn't it be enough to fetch us some food?"
****************************************************************************************************
He does not remember hitting her.
He only remembered the rage. Of hearing her speak such callous words and then seeing red.
****************************************************************************************************
His sister was looking at him like he was the foulest monster in all of Essos.
She was lying on her back, her arms trying to shield her face. A slight pink bruise slowly forming on her arms.
What have I done?
What have I done?
He did not like seeing the fearful look in his sister's eyes.
Why did I do this?
He tried to remember what they were talking about before he hit her.
He had said that they had nothing left to bargain with. And then… then Dany remarked that they should sell their mother's crown.
Sell their mother's crown?
That's mad.
Mad.
MAD…
Mad… like the their father.
No. No. No.
Stop!
Do NOT think of him.
I am NOT mad.
We are not mad.
We are merely hungry.
Yes.
Hungry.
****************************************************************************************************
But despite what he tried to reason with himself, he felt it in his mind. The madness. Madness stemming from the rage.
Rage he has felt for the utter unfairness of life.
Why did they have to leave home?
Why did they have to leave King's Landing?
Why did his father have to die?
Why did his mother have to die?
Why did he have to take care of Dany?
Because you have to. You promised.
****************************************************************************************************
He had turned to Dany then.
Spoken the words that he thought would make it justifiable somehow but never could.
"You should not have awakened the dragon."
****************************************************************************************************
Fanfic Navigation Links:
Chapter 1: Of Pale Moonlight
Chapter 2: Remember, Viserys
Chapter 3: An Old Dark Cloth
Chapter 4: (You are here)
Chapter 5: A Slight Hiss