[91] Broken Bonds

Chapter 91: Broken Bonds

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Daenerys felt Viserys's arm wrap firmly around her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. Her nakedness suddenly felt like a vulnerability she couldn't afford as he carried her to the bed. The pressure of his hand against her mouth made breathing difficult, apple fragments still stuck between her teeth.

He sat down on her bed, placing her unceremoniously on his lap as if she were still the child he'd once carried across the Narrow Sea. Instinctively, she tried to squirm away, but his grip tightened just enough to prevent escape without causing pain.

"The night view here is beautiful," he said, gesturing toward the window with his free hand. "Honestly better than King's Landing. You'd agree if you saw it."

His casual tone made her stomach twist. Was this the same man who had threatened to cut her baby from her womb? Who had sold her to Khal Drogo like a prized mare?

"It's kind of crazy that you never got to see it, beyond your infant days," he continued, voice softening with an odd sentimentality that caught her off guard. "Reminds me of how I took care of you back then... in my arms, feeding you and carrying you around since mother was no longer around."

Daenerys remained rigid, her heart pounding against her ribs. She could feel droplets of bathwater drying on her skin, the cool night air raising goosebumps across her flesh. Viserys seemed oblivious to her discomfort, lost in memories she barely recalled.

"Remember that yellow house in Braavos?" His eyes took on a distant quality. "The one with the red door and the lemon tree? You were so small then, always following me around like a little silver shadow. I used to sneak extra bread for you when Ser Willem wasn't looking."

His fingers loosened slightly from her mouth. Daenerys remained still, confusion washing over her. Why was he talking like this?

These gentle memories seemed incompatible with the brother who had pinched and twisted her flesh when angry, who had threatened to "wake the dragon" at the slightest provocation.

"I taught you to say your first words," he continued, "Mother, father, brother, dragon. Always dragon. Even then, you knew what we were." He chuckled softly. "Even when we had to flee in the middle of the night, when they came for us after Ser Willem died, you didn't cry. Brave little thing."

The pressure of the apple against her lips eased, and Daenerys resisted the immediate urge to scream. Something in his reminiscence held her captive more effectively than his physical restraint.

"We sailed on so many ships after that," he sighed. "I lost count. Sick and starving half the time, but I always made sure you ate first. Remember that merchant in Pentos who took us in before Illyrio? Fat bastard tried to touch you once. I broke his fingers, even though he threw us out after. No one touches a dragon."

Without warning, he removed the apple entirely, studying her face as if expecting her to call for help. Daenerys swallowed hard, tasting bitter fruit and something like wary curiosity.

“Do you not remember any of that, sister?”

"...You should have killed me last time," she said finally, ignoring his question, her voice steadier than she expected. "It's a mistake you didn't. And you're going to regret it when I take your throne and rule your kingdom better than you."

A flash of amusement crossed his face. "When did my sister become such a delusional bitch?" He laughed, his arms loosely circling her waist now. "Well, at least you're not trying to shout right now."

"There's no point," Daenerys replied coolly, acutely aware of her nakedness against his fine clothing. "If you want to kill me, you can before they'd come to the room. Besides, I don't think you're here to kill me. You're a coward. You can't bring yourself to kill the 'pet' you raised since childhood."

His amusement vanished, replaced by something that looked almost like hurt. Daenerys hadn't expected that reaction, and it unsettled her more than his anger would have.

"You think I see you as a pet?" he asked, his voice dropping dangerously.

"Oh, no, you see me worse," she shot back, emboldened by his reaction. "You see me as a bargaining chip. A fancy toy… Someone to give away to a hundred thousand horse riders, saying you'd have them rape me one after the other if it means they'd give you the throne. Do you not remember that?”

He shrugged, spreading his arms wide. "I've had my mistakes. I won't deny that."

Seizing the opportunity, Daenerys slipped from his lap, putting distance between them as she turned to face him. The cool night air heightened her awareness of her naked body, but she refused to cower or cover herself. Let him see that she was no longer the frightened girl he had bullied and sold.

"What do you want from me, Viserys?" she demanded.

"It's 'big brother,' did you forget?" he corrected, leaning back on the bed as if he owned it. "I answered that already. I wanted to see my baby sister, so I flew over. I heard your pregnancy was a mess... you must be going through a troubling mental time right now, so I came to console you. Your only family came to console you."

Heat rushed to her face, anger burning away any remnant of fear. "You're not my family!" she shouted.

The words exploded from her with such force that knocking immediately followed from outside her chamber door.

"Khaleesi?" Jorah's concerned voice called out.

Daenerys hesitated, glancing between the door and Viserys. His smug expression challenged her, as if daring her to call for help.

"...Don't come in, I'm just throwing a tantrum," she called back, watching Viserys's lips curl into an approving smile.

"That was your chance to call for help," he observed.

"Jorah will simply die if he tries to resist you, from what I heard about your... prowess," she replied, the admission bitter on her tongue.

"You’re right. That old bastard who's eyeing my beautiful little sister. I'd take the chance to kill him," he said. "Who's your family, if not me?"

The question struck deeper than she wanted to admit. She'd spent so long defining herself in opposition to Viserys—to his cruelty, his weakness, his madness—that she hadn't fully confronted their shared blood.

"...Khal Drogo," she answered, her voice hard as dragonglass. "The man who you sold me to. A real man who gave me a son. The son who I lost because of you."

He looked incredibly annoyed by her first words, but by the end, confusion crossed his face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is the first time we've met in more than a year, sister. What do you mean?" He raised his hands defensively. "I ain't no baby killer."

"Not directly," she said bitterly. "You killed him indirectly."

"Really? I don’t recall."

Daenerys felt old wounds reopen, bleeding fresh grief into her mind. Dammit. Because of you—because you threatened me with a sword and showed the Dothraki how weak their Khal was for letting you escape—another Dothraki challenged Drogo's right to lead… You made him look weak in front of his bloodriders, so they challenged him.

The memories crashed through her like waves against rock: Drogo's wound festering, the witch Mirri Maz Duur's betrayal, the stillness of her child's tiny body.

Drogo accepted the challenge to prove his strength. He won, but the wound became infected. Her willpower trembled with the effort of containing her rage. I trusted a witch to heal him... she poisoned him instead. When I begged her to save him, she took my son's life essence. When he was born...

The thoughts caught in her throat. She couldn't speak of the scales, the twisted limbs, the tiny wings that would never fly.

You were the first link in that chain, Viserys, she glared at him. Your cowardice cost me everything I loved.

"You don't have to know," she replied, swallowing back the rest. "You're a piece of shit. The only thing you need to know is that... is that I'll kill you. No matter what, I'll kill you."

Viserys shook his head slowly. "Sounds like you're just blaming me for the sake of it," he said. "Maybe you’re putting the blame on me for something... you did? I don't know. I find the hate very wrongful. It pains me, actually. First, you get mad at me for selling you off to the Dothraki, then you blame me for somehow killing that said Dothraki husband of yours? Isn't that quite contradictory?"

"Shut up!" she shouted, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Viserys sighed, studying her with a look that said he found her expression uncomfortably familiar. "I see that Father's madness has swept deeper in you than it did in me. Then again, when he impregnated Mother, he was already mad. His seeds weren't the best."

The insult cut through Daenerys like a knife. "Are you insulting my blood now?"

"I am," he confirmed coldly. "Because you're being a stupid little bitch right now. Your brother made a mistake, sure, I'll acknowledge that, and you can hate me for it. I'm fine with that, but you're blaming me for something I've never done. You're going mad, sister. At this rate, you'll kill everyone you've saved."

"I'm not you," she growled, every muscle in her body tensed with hatred.

"I am Viserys Targaryen," he replied, his voice taking on a theatrical formality. "King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Of course, you're not me, sister. I'm not a failure bitch who trusted a witch and had her husband killed. How the fuck is that my fault, you stupid fucking slut?"

His words landed like physical blows. Daenerys stood frozen, shock replacing anger. How… how did he know about those things? The vulgarity seemed beneath the regal persona he'd cultivated—a glimpse of the old Viserys breaking through the new façade.

"Sorry, I wasn't supposed to curse at you," he groaned, running a hand through his silver hair. "But you have to understand how frustrating you are. I'm trying to reconcile. And you're trying to kill me for nothing. And did you ever ask why I married you off?"

"To take the Dothraki army and—"

"Indeed, you're mad and easy to manipulate," he cut her off. "How could I, your coward brother, strike a deal with the Dothraki?"

That gave Daenerys pause. She'd never questioned the arrangement—it was Illyrio who brokered it, and Viserys had agreed. How much of that was Viserys’ own decision?

"I was stupid back then, so I fell for it," Viserys continued. "But you're saying you're not stupid, right? Then you'll figure out the truth on your own. I don't want to hand-feed you everything. Not anymore. You’re not the cute baby sister I remember anymore. Although your decisions say otherwise, you're not a child anymore."

Anger flared again, bright and hot in her chest. "You talk a lot of bullshit for a piece of shit who couldn't harm a fly without magic. Who did you beg for these powers?"

"I'd have taken the throne regardless of these powers, sister. I'd just have needed a bit more time and had to be a little more cautious." His voice carried absolute conviction. "I'd admit, these powers allowed me to be reckless and do things without thinking through much since they allowed me incredible protection. But if I didn't have them? I have the blood of dragons, and I'd have conquered the world regardless. Do you even realize who I am?"

"Bullshit," she spat.

He laughed, a sound that reminded her of breaking glass. "You're the one who would have gotten yourself killed without me. Do you really trust Varys and his people? That bastard Young Griff? You really think our nephew is alive? Are you aware of his connection with Illyrio the Merchant?"

The sudden shift caught her off guard. "O-of course he is our nephew," she said, her conviction wavering despite herself. "Rhaegal accepted him as a rider. That proves his Targaryen blood—"

"Blackfyre blood," he cut her off sharply. "You're really a stupid fucking bitch. You’re destined to die in this world without me."

The accusation hung in the air between them. Blackfyre. The name of rebellion, of bastard Targaryens who had tried to claim the throne for generations. She knew the Golden Company originally started with them, but…

Viserys stood abruptly. "Whatever. You’ve soured my mood enough, so I'm going to leave now."

Daenerys scoffed, though uncertainty gnawed at her. "So I was right. You really are so stupid that you won't take me seriously. You’re still leaving me alive. You'll regret this, brother."

That made him grin. "Aw, that's my little sister. You just called me brother again. How I've missed that." He slowly walked over and pinched her cheeks like she was a child. She shoved his hands away, and he just laughed. "As a reward, I'm only going to break one of your arms."

"...What?"

Before she could process his words, his hand seized her elbow. With a quick, brutal motion, he slammed it backward.

Pain exploded through Daenerys's arm—white-hot and all-consuming. She heard a scream tear from her throat, the sound primal and agonizing. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, cradling her shattered elbow as waves of nausea rolled through her.

The door burst open, Jorah leading a contingent of Unsullied guards, their spears leveled at Viserys.

"K-Khaleesi!" Jorah's voice sounded distant through the haze of pain as he rushed to her side. The Unsullied formed a protective barrier, their weapons pointed at her brother.

"Ser Jorah," Viserys acknowledged, completely ignoring the spears. "Thank you for taking care of her. Although it pisses me off that you look at her that way, I do admit you're a fine guard for her who’s done his job right. Take her to a physician. Her arm should get fixed in no time since it's a clean break. I just wanted to show her how weak she is before me. And I wanted to hurt her a little, she was pissing me off.”

Daenerys clutched her arm, each heartbeat sending fresh pulses of agony through the limb. Through tears of pain, she saw Jorah's face contort with rage.

"Viserys!" he shouted. "How dare you?!"

"It's Your Grace for you, Ser. Keep your tone in check," her brother replied icily, turning toward the window. "I'll be around the city, but don't try to search for me. You can't. And if someone does manage to catch my scent, I'd just kill them. There's no point in losing soldiers like that, is there?"

One of the Unsullied—thankfully not Grey Worm, she realized through her agony—lunged forward with a battle cry. "Stop right there! Haaah!"

The spear thrust was lightning-fast, but Viserys moved faster. He sidestepped with inhuman grace, his fist striking the Unsullied’s armored stomach with a sickening crunch. Metal buckled inward as his hand punched through, then emerged clutching something dark and glistening.

The Unsullied collapsed instantly, his spine dangling from Viserys's bloodied fist.

Horror silenced the room. Daenerys felt bile rise in her throat as Viserys casually reached for one of her silk robes hanging nearby. He wiped the blood from his hand with deliberate slowness.

"I let Jorah live, but I won't tolerate the same disrespect from these mindless baboons," he said to her, examining his now-clean fingers. "I'll see you later, baby sister."

With that, he strode to the window and leapt out into the night air, leaving behind a defeated Dany who glared at the ground. Her brother… just what happened to him?

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