aliensamba (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aliensamba) wrote2012-05-15 04:12 am
aliensamba) wrote2012-05-15 04:12 am
The Last Dragons Chapter 2: Remember, Viserys
At first it was only darkness.
Then a loud crack, as if lightning had struck the very earth before him.There is smoke… and fire.
And there is something else.
He turns around to try and catch it with his eyes but it is swift and he only glimpses a movement in the smoke.
He remembers another storm, many years ago, on the island of Dragonstone. Remembers it clearly, for it was a painful day.
He was reciting the ancient names of his bloodline to his mother. Describing in detail what each of the kings did. He had started with the very first Targaryen to sit on the Iron Throne, Aegon The Conqueror. Then went on to describe the other kings, eventually arriving to his father, Aerys. He does this to show his mother that he doesn’t forget.
The dragon remembers.
She was smiling at him from her seat near the window. The rays of the setting sun framing her pale hair. She was wearing her crown, as she was wont 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.
“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.
She touched her belly, already it was so enlarged that he was afraid his mother might burst. Her face was 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.
Suddenly, she turned her head to the city. Somehow, she was looking towards the direction of the throne room, 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.
The dragon does not show fear.
“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…”
“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.
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,
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 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. 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, and nephew, Aegon. Unless…
Viserys looked at his mother, taking note of any indications 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.”
“When is it coming, mother?”
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.
“Soon, my little dragon.”
Viserys frowned. His 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.
She reached out a hand to touch his forehead. The moment her hand touched his skin, she felt the fire that was in him, burning just under the surface.
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 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 dragon.
I will take back the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. They are made for me. They are mine.
They stayed at Dragonstone for many moons. His mother slowly losing her strength while the little dragon 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.
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.
“Your father was not just my husband.”
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.
“He was also my brother… The moment his- … I felt- …”, his mother turned away from him. For a moment, caught in a painful memory.
“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.
“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.”
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.
“How is this possible?”, he whispered.
His mother 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 dragon, Viserys?”
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.
“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.
To please his mother, he recited the names of the old Targaryen kings to her. He was showing her that he was keeping his promise. He was not forgetting.
It was on one such day, that he lost his mother forever.
His mother had excused herself from dinner; she had wanted to rest. The whole household was settling down for the night. The summer storm beginning to rage on the outer walls of the ancient Targaryen stronghold.
Already he could hear the howl of the wind, as if raging banshees were just outside their castle. He could hear the crash of waves on the ship which had delivered them to Dragonstone.
It is in between stopping his ears and trying to fall asleep that he hears a great crack. As if the world was splitting into two, like a giant egg. The rain began to fall faster and the muffled sound of the raindrops increased into an oppressive hum.
Crack!
Thunder rumbled above. Lightning and thunder dance with each other.
He feels a sense of foreboding. He feels that something is not right. He runs to his mother’s room. He sees that the wet nurse is there outside the doors. He opens the doors before anyone can stop him and he finds himself in her chambers.
Blood.
“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, you and she are the last dragons. Remember what I told you.”
She?
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.
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 is emitting 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 yet.
He moves to instruct the wet nurse but his curiosity rears its head so he finds himself reaching out a hand to the thing swaddled in white silk sheets.
The baby's hands are flailing. It is eager to be attended to.
He is 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.
Everything that I am is her own.
For a moment there is silence. As though the storm has passed.
“Daenerys, that will be your name… Daenerys Stormborn.”
Then a loud crack, as if lightning had struck the very earth before him.There is smoke… and fire.
And there is something else.
He turns around to try and catch it with his eyes but it is swift and he only glimpses a movement in the smoke.
He remembers another storm, many years ago, on the island of Dragonstone. Remembers it clearly, for it was a painful day.
He was reciting the ancient names of his bloodline to his mother. Describing in detail what each of the kings did. He had started with the very first Targaryen to sit on the Iron Throne, Aegon The Conqueror. Then went on to describe the other kings, eventually arriving to his father, Aerys. He does this to show his mother that he doesn’t forget.
The dragon remembers.
She was smiling at him from her seat near the window. The rays of the setting sun framing her pale hair. She was wearing her crown, as she was wont 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.
“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.
She touched her belly, already it was so enlarged that he was afraid his mother might burst. Her face was 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.
Suddenly, she turned her head to the city. Somehow, she was looking towards the direction of the throne room, 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.
The dragon does not show fear.
“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…”
“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.
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.”
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 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. 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, and nephew, Aegon. Unless…
Viserys looked at his mother, taking note of any indications 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.”
“When is it coming, mother?”
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.
“Soon, my little dragon.”
Viserys frowned. His 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.
She reached out a hand to touch his forehead. The moment her hand touched his skin, she felt the fire that was in him, burning just under the surface.
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 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 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.
They stayed at Dragonstone for many moons. His mother slowly losing her strength while the little dragon 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.
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.
“Your father was not just my husband.”
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.
“He was also my brother… The moment his- … I felt- …”, his mother turned away from him. For a moment, caught in a painful memory.
“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.
“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.”
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.
“How is this possible?”, he whispered.
His mother 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 dragon, Viserys?”
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.
“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.
To please his mother, he recited the names of the old Targaryen kings to her. He was showing her that he was keeping his promise. He was not forgetting.
It was on one such day, that he lost his mother forever.
His mother had excused herself from dinner; she had wanted to rest. The whole household was settling down for the night. The summer storm beginning to rage on the outer walls of the ancient Targaryen stronghold.
Already he could hear the howl of the wind, as if raging banshees were just outside their castle. He could hear the crash of waves on the ship which had delivered them to Dragonstone.
It is in between stopping his ears and trying to fall asleep that he hears a great crack. As if the world was splitting into two, like a giant egg. The rain began to fall faster and the muffled sound of the raindrops increased into an oppressive hum.
Crack!
Thunder rumbled above. Lightning and thunder dance with each other.
He feels a sense of foreboding. He feels that something is not right. He runs to his mother’s room. He sees that the wet nurse is there outside the doors. He opens the doors before anyone can stop him and he finds himself in her chambers.
Blood.
There is blood.
Blood on the bed.
Blood of the dragon.
“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, you and she are the last dragons. Remember what I told you.”
She?
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.
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 is emitting 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 yet.
He moves to instruct the wet nurse but his curiosity rears its head so he finds himself reaching out a hand to the thing swaddled in white silk sheets.
The baby's hands are flailing. It is eager to be attended to.
He is 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.
Everything that I am is her own.
For a moment there is silence. As though the storm has passed.
“Daenerys, that will be your name… Daenerys Stormborn.”