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****

»Oh, for the sake of the gods, go tame a horse or play with your weapons and leave the thinking people to do this.«

»That'll leave Dany on her own then." Drogo answers with a sneer. "What are you going to do meanwhile? Brush your hair? Stare at yourself in the mirror?«

It's still surreal for Dany to hear her brother and her husband converse in Dothraki. She still isn't quite aware of what happened
during her unconsciousness, but the relationship between Drogo and Viserys has changed radically. They almost seem to like each other.
They definitely respect each other. She can tell.

****

»Are we still doing this?« Viserys asks, jaw set.

»All of the way.« Drogo states as if there shouldn't have been any doubt.

»My crown. Not your wife's.« Viserys needs to emphasize once more.

Drogo nods darkly.

****

She holds her son in her arms. Like the dragons he took to her quickly. They still like Viserys better though, even if he can't see
it.

»It's because he was with you all the time while you were sleeping.« Drogo says, indicating their son, »You're no stranger to him.«

»Nevertheless I missed a lot, My Moon and Stars.«

»We will make up for it.«

****

"They're growing fast." Daenerys says with wonder.

"You should have seen them in the beginning." Drogo smiles at his wife. "They were tiny."

"Tiny, but already deadly." Viserys looks at the dragons fondly, before he turns back to Daenerys with an impatient expression. "But they're growing not fast enough. I'll need a bigger army. A Dothraki horde might be dangerous in the Red Desert. But I need more than said horde and three dragon-toddlers to take the Iron Throne."

****

Daenerys holds Rhaego in her arms, unable to calm him. Viserys walks up to her, taking the boy from her arms. In Viserys care, with something to chew on, the infant becomes calm again.

"He's still teething." He explains, in a by-the-way manner.

It's humiliating and incredibly sad, to have someone else know your child better than you do.

****

"You look green, Drogo." Viserys points out, walking past the tall Dothraki. "Why don't you lay down." He, himself, is perfectly fine with the constant rocking of the ship under them. And he takes a perverse glee in watching Drogo so spectacularly fail at trying to cope with it.

****

"What do you know about Astapor, Jorah?"

"They say The Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world."

"The greatest slave soldiers in the world. Distinction means a good deal to some people." Daenerys says, offended.

"So what!" Viserys asks, exasperated. "Do you have a better idea how to put me on the Iron Throne?!"

"It's too beautiful a day to argue."

Behind them they hear the sound of Drogo throwing up, yet again. Viserys snorts.

"Yes indeed, very beautiful day."

Daenerys immediately goes to tend to her husband, Viserys follows reluctantly.

"I wonder which of us has more experience with throwing up," He muses. "You, during your pregnancy, or I during my countless drinking escapades. I'd recommend some egg-yolk, but neither have we any eggs or producers of eggs here, nor am I very confident it would work in this particular case."

"Do you have anything to say," Drogo presses out between heaves. "Or did you come to gloat?"

"Well, you should know me well enough to answer that question for yourself."

To Daenerys' surprise Drogo laughs, before he leans back down, to continue his previous occupation. This kind of banter between them is unusual these days. Most times there's a certain tension between them. Unspoken of. Denied when asked about.

****

"Jorah, what happened between my husband and my brother, while I was sleeping?"

"They raised your child, Khaleesi. And they conquered the the city of Qarth."

"I didn't say, what did they do. I asked, what did happen between them." She says with more force this time.

"I do not know."

"Who did you swear allegiance to? Me or my brother?"

"You, Khaleesi."

"And still, you have nothing to say to me?"

"They formed a friendship."

"So they did." She is more convinced than ever that something happened between those two, that everyone is hiding from her.

****

Despite the fact that they'd spent all their available gold on ships, Viserys still walks through Slaver's Bay like he owns the
place. Probably what you call 'born to rule', or more like 'born to boss others around', Drogo considers, amused. Dany has that quality too, natural superiority.
Only with her it has much more grace and class.

They are at the slave market, checking the merchandize. Drogo watches Viserys stop at one of the shops. Waiting slightly pissed-off and
impatient until one of the servants of the seller brings him a drink, while the other fans him. During all this he acts like it's his damn
god-given right. The seller arrives, all courtesies and curtseys. Given that they're practically beggars again that's quite an achievement.
But well, Viserys is very determined in the pursuing of his ambitions.
At least it's not because of the money, but because of the crown. Drogo has no illusions that Viserys would have even looked his way, if
he didn't have an army.

Viserys would have just taken from Qarth whatever he needed, but Daenerys insisted that they wouldn't rob the people there of their
livelihood. It had been their first fallout since Dany had awoken.

Viserys can't see what good it would do them to act according to their means. Understatement has never gotten anyone anywhere, especially
not onto a throne. He's acting according to his inner value, not to that of his non-existant vault.

****

"So, these are your famous slave-soldiers?" Viserys asks with mild distaste, while the slave-girl translates. "Are they safe?"

"The master says, they attack only if ordered to do so."

"Indeed?"

"The Unsullied have stood here without food or water for a day and a night."

"Impressive." Viserys says, taking pleasure in Daenerys disgusted expression. He'll gladly play the devil to her saint.

"They will stand until they drop. Such is their obedience."

"If I have to order them to do simple things as eat and sleep, it won't do me much good in battle."

"I want to know more of their training." Drogo demands.

As the slave-girl turns back to her master. Viserys curiously listens to they're conversation.

=Tell them what they need to know and be quick about it. The days is hot.= The slave-master bellows.

He turns to Daenerys, voice kept low. »True enough. It's fucking boiling and the guy stinks of sweat.« He snickers, flinching the next moment. »Oh, come on. It's not like they understand.« Viserys complains, after Daenerys punched him in the side, unseen.

"Be quiet." She hisses under her breath.

"They fear nothing." The girl continues.

"Even the brave fear death." Jorah interposes.

=The knight says, even the bravest men fear death.= The girl tells her master in their mother tongue.

=Tell him, he stinks of piss.= He replies, short-temperedly.

»Says the right one.« Viserys snorts.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. What were you saying?" The slave girl asks, facing him again.

"I only said, I like your master's hairstyle. Very much like an egg." He smiles at her.

The girl looks confused.

"I'm sorry, dear, please continue." Daenerys stops Viserys.

Meanwhile the slave-master continues.

=Tell this, Westerosi nancy and his cunt of a sister-wife to open their eyes and watch.=

»I'm going to have my dragons eat his tongue and balls.« Viserys comments in a pleasent voice.

»What did he say?« Drogo asks.

»Don't translate!« Daenerys warns Viserys.

The man walks up to one of the Unsullied, about to cut off one of his nipples.

"Tell your master there is no need..." Daenerys tries to stop him.

=That cunt is worried about their nipples?= The slave-master asks, disgusted. =Does she know we cut their balls and dicks off?!=

Viserys takes pity on his sister, adressing the slave girl again. "Tell your master, I won't buy damaged goods. He can cut off pieces of his own slaves."

The girl hurries to translate and the slave-master reluctantly lowers his knife, before it has fullfilled it's purpose. He throws a dark glance at Viserys, who stares back unimpressed.
Daenerys gratefully presses her brother's hand. He only rolls his eyes.

"I'm going to take closer account of what I'm about to buy." Viserys informs the girl, making his way towards the Unsullied.

Viserys approaches the sheer endless rows of identical looking slaves, who stand there like puppets or statues.

=What's your name, slave?= He asks one of them. Despite their seemingly uniform looks, no face looks like another, if you get close. People who had their future stolen from them, their life, their name. Just like him. And these men will give him back his kingdom. In these men he will put all his hopes.

=Grey Worm.= The young man replies, face unchanged, eyes still facing forward.

Viserys wrinkles his brows, there's really no need for giving your slave an ugly name.

=Tell me, if I owned you. What would you do for me?=

=I live to serve my master.=

Good enough. Their obedience is impressive. What he's seen of their training looked satisfying too. But he can't really be sure until he's seen them in battle, can he?

The slaver is too far away to hear his conversation with the slave.

"The slaves don't understand your language, my Lord." The slave girl tells him, not having heard the exchange either.

"I see."

The slave-master informs them further about the extensive training of the slaves.

"You have them kill a newborn in front of their mother and pay for her pain with a silver coin?" Daenerys asks appalled.

"Of course not." Viserys rolls his eyes. "The silver is surely paid to the owner of the woman."

"My Lord is right." The slave girl assents.

Daenerys looks even more appalled. »What is wrong with you?« She asks her brother.

»Sometimes I wonder if we were even born in the same world, sister mine.« He shakes his head.

They turn to leave the presentation field.

»I want them!« Viserys says with the joy of child just having seen a new toy.

»Eight-thousand dead babies.« Daenerys says accusingly.

»Just because you stress every single word, that won't make me heed them.« Viserys answers, unnerved. »Think of your nephews and nieces. Our brother's children! That are the dead babies you should be concerned about!«

»Once you earn an army of slaves, what will you be?!« She demands of him.

»Very powerful.«

****

"Look that little girl over there." Daenerys points, as they walk across the harbor.

"Leave her be. I don't want to catch fleas or whatever." Viserys drags her on.

The little girl follows them. Daenerys slows him to a halt again. Suddenly the girl throws her ball towards Viserys. He doesn't even try to catch it, letting it drop, grossed out.

"What am I supposed to do with that filthy thing?"

Rolling away from him, the ball springs open and out comes a large scorpion, which sets to attack Viserys. Before it reaches him, it's impaled by a dagger.

»That was close.« Drogo says, pulling his dagger out again.

»Someone knows we're here.« Viserys mood swings immediately to pissed-off.

Drogo tries to follow the child but it evaporates before their eyes.
»What kind of demon-child is this?«

»Warlocks.« Viserys answers gravely.

»I thought you'd killed all of them?«

»I guess they're called The Undying for a reason.« Viserys says, sourly, as if this was indeed a huge inconvenience, not a major catastrophe.

****

»Someone's following us.« Drogo whispers.

»How far?« Viserys asks.

»Right behind us.«

As if rehearsed, Viserys turns around throwing a vast collection of insults at Drogo, which the other returns, walking away into the direction they came from. The next moment Drogo's already grabbed a hooded figure behind them, throwing them to the ground.

»They send an old man to murder me?« Viserys asks, puzzled. »First children, now old people. What's next? A trained monkey?«

»Could still be dangerous.« Drogo shrugs.

»Yeah, yeah, you did well.« Viserys pats Drogo on the head. Something that's only physically possible, because the taller man is still kneeling over the supposed assailant. Drogo's display of indignation is received with a chortle from Viserys' side. Viserys then nudges the crumpled man with his foot. "Who sends you?"

"No one." The man presses out, under the weight of Drogo's knee on his back.

"No one? That's a new one. Or are we talking in terms of 'No One' send you?"

"You don't remember me, do you, my boy?" The old man asks. "I'm Ser Barristan."

Viserys' face goes very still.

"I commanded your father's Kingsguard-" Ser Barristan continues.

"I know who you are!" Viserys interrupts him. "I remember you." He adds, softly as in afterthought. He turns to Dany then. "Look at him, Dany! That's the man who let our family die!" He motions towards the man with an almost manic grin on his face.

Drogo throws Viserys a look that asks unambiguously if Viserys wants the man dead.

Ser Barristan continues, something haunted and driven in his voice. "I failed to protect your family! Let me serve you in your Kingsguard and I won't fail you again!"

"That's bold." Viserys laughs. "Why should I? Of what use could you be, old man? And more importantly, what stops me from killing you for serving King Robert all those years?"

"He could have knowledge that would benefit us." Daenerys points out.

»I know that!« Viserys returns, angrily.

"My Lord, it is as your lady sister says. If you want to retake the Iron Throne, you will need more than the knowledge of a exciled and a tribe leader."

"I see. So all I've been missing was the wisdom of old men? How very good. Shall we march for King's Landing immediately?"

"My Lord-" Ser Barristan starts, flustered.

"Calm down," Viserys pacifies the man. "You got yourself a job."

****

"You're the expert on slaves." Viserys says turning to Drogo. "Say, can a slave ever make a good fighter?"

"I don't think so, only free men have the spirit to fight."

"There is no such thing as a slave." Daenerys tells them. "All men are born free and if you chain them, that will only make them chained free men."

****

"The walk of punishment is a warning." Jorah explains, while they walk along the battlements of the city walls, past the half-dead slaves tied to wooden poles that frame the path.

"To every slave who contemplates stepping outside his boundaries?" Viserys asks.

"That's right."

"Give me your water." Daenerys grabs for Drogo's bottle and rushes to the slaves side, trying to give him from the water. "Why won't he drink?"

"He's dying, sister. I doubt he wants to drag out the process."

"Let's leave here, Viserys. We can find soldiers in other cities." She pleads.

"The best? The best is what we will get here. And the best is what I shall content with."

"My love..." Drogo starts to soothe Daenerys.

"Don't you dare encourage her foolishness!" Viserys silences him, turning back to his sister then. "Did you think we'd win the throne of our father with happy songs and flower garlands, sweet sister?"

"I didn't think you'd win it with the blood of innocents." She reproaches, disappointment heavy in her voice.

"You know me, sister. I don't care. My enemies' blood. The blood of innocents. Your blood. Mine." He shrugs, with a wry smile.

"You know that is not true."

"My Lady," Jorah starts. "I was at King's Landing at the sack. I saw woman and children slaughtered. More rapes than you can count."

Viserys nods bitterly at his words, his own memories still too vivid.

"Should we really repeat those hideous crimes of the past?" Daenerys asks.

"Don't talk like you know what you're talking about." Viserys answers, angrily. "Drogo why don't you support me a little here. After all slaughter and rape are your tools of the trade. Why don't you explain to my sister that there's no such thing as modern, humanitarian warfare."

Drogo looks deeply uncomfortable. "The Unsullied at least won't rape anyone and kill only those we order them to, my dear. There won't be mindless slaugther."

"What a comfort that is, my love." She answers bitterly. "What do you say to that, Ser Barristan?" She turns to her last ally.

"At the battle of the Trident people followed your brother, Rhaegar, into battle because they loved him, because they believed in him. Not because they were bought at an auction, your Grace."

"And now he's dead." Viserys points out. "I'd rather have an army stand behind me, instead of ideals."

"That day, I fought beside the last Dragon." Ser Barristan states, defiantly.

"Wrong." Viserys voice cuts through the air. "You are standing in front of the Dragon and I'm not the last one."

Ser Barristan is stunned into silence. A smirk plays over Viserys face. "Ah, I see you don't believe me. You seem to be able to judge very quickly that I am not of noble enough nature, not like my brother. Do you deem yourself to have known him very well?"

"I did, your Grace. The finest man I've ever met." Ser Barristan answers, resolutely, earning himself some respect in Viserys' book.

"Very well, I don't aim to be a hero. I just aim to be a king."

"I wish, I'd known him." Daenerys says, regretfully.

"Whether you knew him or not, he's still your brother." Viserys says with unusual gentleness. "I think you would have liked him. He was more like you. Idealistic. Bull-headed."

Daenerys laughs. "Bull-headed goes for you the same."

"I guess it runs in the family."

****

Viserys sees it by the crease above her nose, that stubborn line. She's thinking in a direction that will give them neither soldiers nor additional ships.
She should have stayed at the ships, where life could meet up with her high ideals.

She can already see the old, well known trait show up in his face. The way back to always picking a fight, with her and everyone else, the need to antagonize. She says it anyway. "We will free them."

"Why would we free them? They won't fight for us any longer." Viserys looked at her, puzzled.

She can tell the thought never even crossed his mind. He can't even begin to process her set of mind.

"They will, if they choose to," she tells him, trying to sound as little patronizing as she can.

"Sure, they will, you mad woman!"

"Don't talk like that to my wife!" Drogo growls.

"Would you like I'd rather talk like that to you?" Viserys isn't sure what exactly he's threatening with here. He turns back to his sister. "No person in their right mind would risk dying in battle out of something as pathetic and meaningless as gratitude!"

His sister looks at him as if what she's seeing is incredibly sad. It makes him want to hit her.

****

Daenerys isn't sure if she's imagining it. No, she's absolutely sure, she's not imagining it. But nevertheless she can't tell what exactly the change in the air of the fights of those two is indicating.
Drogo doesn't fight with her. Never. He's always as refined in manners, as any lord of the Seven Kingdoms could be. But with Viserys he fights all the time, which shouldn't be a good thing, yet their fights always show how familiar they are with each other. It shows how much they know about each other. Maybe she's a little jealous. It's stupid. She has enough fights with Viserys, which are anything but pleasant.

****

»Talk sense into your wife. She won't listen to me.« Viserys barges into Drogo's room, as always, without knocking. Though, he's done so considerably less, since Dany woke up.

»She probably has good reason not to listen to you.« Drogo replies, nonchalantly. Their conversations have never been filled with pleasantries, but now they also have to prove with every word, how they aren't affected by this fucked up situation.

»I see she has you pretty well under her thumb. Did she cut your dick off too?«

»Jealousy doesn't suit you.«

It's like a punch in Viserys' face. Not because of the words. They are as predictable a comeback as could be. It's because he said them at all. It's unusually cruel. It's hurtful in a crude and detached way that Viserys isn't used to anylonger. Not from Drogo.
But Viserys just does what he does best. He laughs.

"We have to work on your eloquence, savage. Wouldn't want you to embarass me in public, would we?"

It hurts. They're back to square one. 'Savage'. It's not said in the affectionate way, Drogo's gotten used to by now, playful, stating a claim. It's back to what it's used to be. Demeaning and full of contempt. Showing exactly what they are to each other. Drogo might just as well be a dancing monkey for the way Viserys says it.

"You're already embarrassing yourself plenty." Drogo answers, deadpan.

"Better." Viserys says, before he turns around and leaves.

It was stupid to think it would be otherwise. It still hurts, how carelessly and without hesitation Drogo threw him away. Viserys knows how the world works. And there's no world in which Drogo would have chosen him instead of Daenerys. So there's virtually no need for him to feel hurt, when Drogo takes Daenerys' side by default.
Of course, he could try to fight for him. The ridiculousness of the thought makes him actually laugh. That would be way too dramatic and pathetic. Viserys is a King, not a girl. And just as there's no world in which Drogo would choose him, there's no world in which Viserys would fight for Drogo.

His feet lead him out into the night, through the torch-lit city. He finds his way to the Walk of Punishment, without intention. Viserys stands beside the bound, half-dead man on the battlements.

=You're in a bad place.= His mother-tongue feels strange, forming no longer familiar syllables. =But so am I. I won't let everything I fought for be destroyed by my sister's need for justice. We both,= He makes eye-contact with the slave, =know, nothing in this world is ever just.=

****

He feels horrible about it, but he can't help but comparing the siblings. Thinking what Viserys would have said in that situation. It feels like he can only lose in this. But before he hurts Dany, he'd rather hurt Viserys. It's not like he had any time to think about it. There was never a question. Of course he would choose Dany. He loves her. She's his wife. The mother of his child. The only reason he put up with Viserys in the first place.

He didn't even realise, Dany has woken up. He wonders how long she's been watching him stare into thin air. She smiles at him when he meets her eyes and he can't but smile back, knowing exactly why he loves her.

»You don't dislike him anymore, do you, my love?« She smiles, mischiviously, as if reading his thoughts.

»No.« He shakes his head automatically.

»He's changed. For the better.« She says, looking pleased.

Drogo's puzzled again, how the siblings, no matter their fights, will always get the same fond look when talking about each other. Even if Viserys is just taking account of all her negative traits, you can always tell he loves her.

»Who would have guessed he could?« Drogo replies, one part still caught in his thoughts, one part trying not to betray too much.

»I wish I'd been there to see it.« She laughs. »The stories Jorah told me.«

No, you wouldn't. Drogo thinks. »I wish you'd been there, too.« No, he can't say that in all honesty.

****

Viserys looks dejected, sitting there on the window sill, chewing on his bottom lip. Drogo formerly couldn't have imagined what Viserys' face would have looked like, wearing that emotion.
The ease of the inappropriate intimate gesture, with which he brushes Viserys' hair out of his face, is unsettling.

»What are you asking of me?« Drogo's gaze is between angry and helpless.

They never talked about this. It just happened. They shrank away from each other the moment they heard the news about Dany waking up, and never came back together. Both trying to fall back into the place they occupied before it all happened.

"I ask absolutely nothing of you." Viserys answers bitterly.

Always meeting the eye. Drogo thinks as he's stared down by Viserys' accusatory gaze. That's something about Viserys. He never lowers his gaze. Never afraid to face the ugly truth.
Drogo realises his hand is still caught midair, almost still touching Viserys' hair. The other looks as if he'd rather bite off his hand than let it touch him. And Drogo wants him. He wants him all the time. As Drogo retraces his hand, he thinks, somewhere up there the gods must be laughing right now.

****

It hurts, when it shouldn't. He watches his sister glow. Everything is hers. The child, the dragons, Drogo. Probably even the godsbedamned crown is hers for the taking.

In moments like this he contemplates whether he'd have killed his sister before she woke up, had he known she would wake up again. But no. The thought is ridiculous. His sister is his sister. He's maybe been willing to treat her badly and marry her off to a savage tribe leader, but he'd never hurt her, not like that. And since he can't hate her because he's still damn glad she woke up again, he concentrates on hating Drogo. Who's an asshole coward, who made the entirely right decision and chose the one, who's actually worth being loved.

He finds himself distraction every night. Men that distinctly don't look like Drogo.

****

"You know it's stupid." Viserys fumes, pacing up and down in front of Drogo, who stays maddeningly silent. "You actually would do it?!" Viserys asks, outraged. "You would do it, just because she wants it! You would let her ruin everything! Everything you owe me! You are aware that I gave you that cunt under a condition!"

Drogo let's out a growl, but doesn't get up. He knows how out-of-sorts Viserys is, when he resorts to insulting his sister just to get a reaction out of him. But Drogo has learned to keep his temper in check. The months spent alone with Viserys would teach that to any man. He only looks at Viserys, disappointedly. "That must be some kind of throne, for you to insult your sister like that. For you to debase yourself like that."

Viserys let's out a growl of his own, jumping at his words.

"You got no fucking idea what I am willing to do for that throne! I don't care if I have to burn every city from here to Essos to the ground, to get to Westeros!"

"Is it really worth it?"

"How can you even ask that?"

Really after all they've been through. After all he's seen Viserys do. How can he still ask that question. Drogo knows exactly what Viserys is willing to do. Just as well as he knows what Viserys is able to drive him to. The things he's willing to do for or to Viserys.

"Wouldn't it make your name even more widely know if you'd free the slaves here?" Drogo asks.

"Is this your attempt at manipulating me to comply to my sister's wishes?" Viserys asks, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm just saying." Drogo shrugs.

"Why would I willingly lose thousands of priceless soldier's just to make my name?! Make my name to be what anyway?! The stupid fuck who thought freed slaves would follow him?!"

"They would follow your sister." Drogo says. "She's got that sort of charisma." Drogo almost laughs at his own words. As if Viserys didn't. Maybe not the same. But Drogo himself bares witness, that Viserys is able to make a man do almost anything. And the absolutely laughable thing is, Viserys could be like his sister, Drogo sees the similarities between them, the traits of the other they both share, even though hidden. He can see the sheer manic, obstinate determination with which Viserys pursues his ambitions in her. He catches glimpses in her face that show him that she could turn into a cruel and autocratic ruler just the same, if only things had gone a little different. She has all the roots set in her that have come to bloom in her brother and turned him what he is now. Just as he can see the kindness in Viserys, hidden under layers of arrogance and disregard. He can see the light that shines in Daenerys. Viserys could make people turn to him in awe just like she does. He could make people follow him with something else than fear. But he doesn't see it. Drogo sees it, though. He sees it all.

"I know what your game is! Don't think I'm too stupid or arrogant to see it! But just to rub it into your smug face, I'm going to do it! I can do fucking everything!"

Yes, Drogo is pretty sure of that. Viserys isn't that far off the man over whose head Drogo poured molten gold.
But then again, Drogo has enough imagination to picture how things would have turned out had Viserys died back then. He can imagine Daenerys taking her brother's place. She wouldn't have given up on his dream. She wouldn't have contented herself with just being his khaleesi. No, there was much more in her than just the voice of reason and compassion. She could be just as fierce and unforgiving as her brother. And Drogo isn't sure if what she would have turned into would have been that different from her brother. Yes, things could have turned out so different. And what a shame it would have been. If he hadn't gotten to know Viserys. If no one had ever really gotten to know Viserys. He deserved a chance. And he deserves a lot more. And Drogo knows, he won't be the one to give him all of that. But at least some.

****

"So we're going to free the slaves?" Viserys asks resigned, "Alright, let's free the slaves."

Daenerys face lights up with disbelief and joy. Like she knew that there was a good core in him. Viserys guesses he can be proud that seemingly he brought her up sheltered enough to still have such illusions.
He isn't vain enough to do this just because of that childish dare he and Drogo did. But at the bottom line, it's a practical decision. He can't pay for all the Unsullied. But he wants them all. And he wanted to kill the slave-master anyway. Another city on the way is a nice plus too. But he isn't going to free the slaves. Letting his sister believe so for the time being is just a nice way to spare him anymore of her nagging.

****

Viserys blunders in his room again, this time seemingly without purpose. He just sallies around the room, now and then stopping to look over Drogo's shoulder at the maps he's studying. Drogo wants him out. It's dangerous to have him this close without Dany in the room. He tries to concentrate on what he's doing.
As soon as he gets him his crown, he'll be rid of the older, distinctly disconcerting Targaryen.
Whatever tied them together in the past has proven harder to shake off, than primarily thought.

»What do you want?«

»Oh!« Viserys accompanies his words with lavish gestures. »I'm in your room,« he voices as if in shock, »Uninvited, too! What could I possibly want?« He's taken to playing with Drogo's braid by now. »Ravish your chastity, maybe?«

»Did you come here on some actual business? Otherwise I have some work to do.«

Viserys looks at the maps again, intrigued.

»Can you actually read, or are you just looking at the pictures?«

»Very funny, there's the door.«

Viserys looks in the direction he's just indicated.

»Yes, indeed, it is.«

Drogo knows that actually starting to see the humor in Viserys' words, is a bad sign if he ever knew one. But he's not sure, dragging Viserys out of his room by force, is the solution for his problem. Too much body contact.

»You have no intention of leaving?« He could say something hurtful and humiliating about desperation, to make him leave, but that would be the pot calling the kettle black.

»Since your wife has taken the fun out of walking the slave market, knowing that I won't buy any of them anyway, I think you owe it to me to make up for my loss of amusement.«

»I can't offer you that kind of amusement.« Drogo replies, not yet sure if he misinterpreted Viserys' intention.

»You're right about that.« Viserys says, eying Drogo's crotch derisively.

The change in Viserys skin color and facial expression, that mirrors the embarrassment and awkwardness Drogo is feeling towards this situation, tells him that his words were about as wrong as could be. While he watches him storm out, he wonders if there was ever someone he allowed to talk like that towards him.

****

Viserys is sure he'll have enough time to evaluate whether this spontanous visit, was as desperate and pathetic as it feels right now, once his face doesn't feel any longer like it's going to burn off.
He is a king! No one is allowed to treat him like that! Only, king of what?! But he will be! One day! And then all those who thought themselve above him will pay. If only killing was the solution to every problem. It isn't to this particular one.

****

Viserys ends up once again in one of the shabby bars, that would usually be far below his standards, but in nights like this it's the only place where he's offered what he needs right now.

He drinks, hoping that at one point the happy family moments between his sister and Drogo will blurr in his mind. Drogo is happier with Daenerys than he ever was with him. And why on earth wouldn't he?! What has he to offer, except a beautiful shell, just like his sister, and a spiteful, bitter, sarcastic, self-centered soul. He has no problem with the way he is. It's the clay kings are made of.

But enough of this embarrassing heartache. It is time to get laid.

The tall dark-haired man catches his eye. Not Drogo's kind of tall and dark-haired (though his skin is dark too), but then, no one is quite as tall as Drogo.

He becomes aware of Viserys' attention and walks over to him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The man asks with an accent that Viserys finds enchanting.

"Always." He replies with a smirk, regarding the man through half-lidded eyes.

They start to talk and it doesn't end with one drink.

"I've never seen someone as tiny as you stomach that much to drink." The man chuckles.

"What can I say, I like things excessive."

"That sounds promising."

The guy touches his hair. "Looks almost Targaryen," he muses.

"What would you know of Targaryens?" Viserys asks a little bit derisive, unable to stop from going tense for a moment.

"More than you would guess." He smiles ruefully.

"What are you trying to forget?"

"The man I love?" Viserys raises an eyebrow, looking not exactly self-conscious, more humorous, when this is not a laughing matter to him at all.

"A good reason." He raises his cup again.

"What about you?"

"Revenge."

The notion is more wistful than angry, but Viserys can sense the deep determination built from years of consistent hating, he knows so well himself.

"The best reason." Viserys raises his cup.

They haven't even exchanged names once they hit one of the rooms over the Inn. What for?

The man breaks away from him for a moment, both of them panting heavily, half-dressed, and smiles that self-assured smile of his again. "Have you ever been with a prince?"

"Have you ever been with a king?" Viserys retorts, because who is he to resist this. Let's call it networking. And if it doesn't work out, he can always poison him later.

The man looks at him for a moment, non-plussed, unsure if he's supposed to laugh. Then he laughs indeed, but it's more of a relieved laugh, the pieces have fallen into place. Well, Viserys reckons, it's not that hard to guess. Not that many kings out there with his hair. Viserys can't place him yet. He knows he's heard the accent before, but he can't recall where. Could be any little island-kingdom around here.
The man in question does a little bow, smile widening.

"Oberyn Martell." His eyes twinkle. "It's a pleasure to make your aquaintance again."

Of course. Viserys has to laugh himself. They must have met each other once before at King's Landing even though he doesn't recall it. He does remember though where knew the accent from. Elia. His brother's wife. He remembers now, how she would sing to her children.

"The pleasure is mine. I assume introductions on my part are redundant."

"I knew you where roaming somewhere around here, but I didn't know you were currently in Astapor." Oberyn tells him.

"And I'd like to keep it that way." Viserys answers. "Not for much longer, though."

Oberyn looks at him wistfully, expression pensive for a moment and kinda like you got a present you didn't expect. "With have many things to talk about." Then a smirk steals over his face again. "Later."

Viserys laughs, throwing his head back, before he pushes Oberyn onto the bed. "Yes, later."

Maybe it's because they both lost so much to the Lannisters and the Baratheons, but honestly the mutual attraction has been there before.

"You know there's a pact between our two families, right?" Oberyn tells him in a by-the-way manner, while they still lie entangled in bed, "you're supposed to marry my sister."

No, Viserys can't say he knew that. He needs all the alliances he can get. Having secured the South would sure take some weight of his shoulders. But he can't seem too desperate. "That would indeed be a very convinient way to renew our alliance," he drawls, leisurely.

"I might get jealous, though." Oberyn remarks, running his hand down Viserys' chest.

"So, you aren't going to give me the talk about disembowling me, should I cheat on your sister?"

"Wouldn't be in my best interest, would it?" Oberyn smirks. He hasn't figured this young king-to-be out yet. He's charming to a dangerous degree. They share the same pain. Below the flippant attitude he displays, Oberyn can tell, is a determined spirit that the years of hardship couldn't break. Oberyn doesn't feel bound by the oath exchanged between their fathers. If Viserys were an arrogant fool, as he'd heard over the years -if he heard about the Targaryens at all- he wouldn't have bothered to deal with him at all. But now he's looking forward to their collaboration to an surprising intend.

****

Almost showtime, now. Viserys feels an excited shudder run over his skin. Another piece falls in place and spins his game further to completion. In front of him is complete power. Unrivalled power. Rows and rows of steel-clad, armed power.

"Tell your master, I want them all."

=He wants them all? Does he think he can pay me with his sister's cunt?!=

"The Dothraki you have will pay for twenty more. And the master will give you two for the tall one."

Viserys turns around to Drogo, with a smirk.

»See, he's made me a good price for you.«

=So, ask this beggar king,= The slave-master continues to speak.

Drogo and Daenerys both see immediately how Viserys goes tense at those words, even though his face still doesn't betray anything beside mild boredom. Drogo places a hand between Viserys' shoulder-blades, not understanding the words but seeing the impact on him, while Daenerys takes her brother's hand.

»Not much longer now, brother. Then he will die, screaming.«

"The master wants to now how you intend to pay for the Unsullied."

"I have dragons." Viserys smiles. "I'll give you one."

"The dragons are what's make you win your war! Not slaves!" Ser Barristan says, outraged.

"You can't be serious, Viserys!" Jorah pleads. "You will need the dragons! Khaleesi, talk sense into him!"

"It is as my brother, your king decided." She answers, sternly.

"My master wants the largest dragon."

"Done." Viserys agrees.

"Done." The slaver confirms.

"Oh," Viserys adds. "And I want that translator-girl as a gift for my sister."

Viserys displays a calm demeanor all the way outside. Only then he turns around, gracing both Jorah and Ser Barristan with a wide smile.

"You are my advisors." Viserys tells them. "I value you as such. But if you ever again question me in public, or adress me as anything other that 'your Grace' you will be advising my brother Rhaegar in the afterlife." He explains, pleasently.

****

Daenerys has turned her attention to the slave-girl meanwhile.

"What is your name?"

"I am called Missandei, my lady."

"You are free now. It is your decision to stay in this city or stay with us. But if you stay with us, you have to realise that it won't be an easy life. There will be hardship and the danger of death." Daenerys explains.

Viserys has to laugh at his sister's words. He wonders if the girl even listened past the words 'you are free now'.

"Valar Morghulis." Missandei answers matter-of-factly to Daenerys' explanations.

"All men must die." Viserys repeats, thoughtfully. "But we are not men. We are dragons." He gives the girl a toothy smile. "I can assure you, it won't get boring at our side. And in the end we'll always win."

****

»Where has Viserys gone to again?« Drogo asks, disgruntled. Viserys' been gone overnight too many nights recently. If he were just boozing and hooking-up he wouldn't spent the night, but be back in the early hours of the morning. And yes, Drogo shouldn't stay up to hear him coming back. Especially not with his wife sleeping beside him.

»I think he's met someone.« Daenerys says amused. »Don't worry. He'll be careful. He won't run into the arms of an assassin.«

That's not what Drogo's worried about.

"You're back so soon?"

"Ah," Viserys turns around, facing the tall dark sillouette, of the man that has stood unseen in the dark of the hall for the gods know how long. "I do appreciate sarcasm in a man, Drogo." he gives the man a dire smile. "But not at that time of the night. Or well, day."

"Did you go out there all by yourself?" Drogo asks disapprovingly. And no, it's not just jealousy. It's basically taking such an completely unnecessary risk.

"Not for long."

Viserys gives him one more smile. Drogo believes it to be knowing, but maybe that's just his own paranoia.

****

"I have to leave Astapor on short notice." Oberyn tells him, regretfully. "Even though I'd loved to stay and see your endgame."

"I'll ensure you, you will have a place reserved to watch my endgame in King's Landing."

They shake hands, which is so much more formal than anything else they've done.

Oberyn grabs his hand with his other hand too, pulling him closer. There's urgency and a rare seriousness in his eyes.

"The alliance still stands, not just with my family but with me personally."

Viserys nods, pressing his hand with gratitude. "The house of Martell and the house of Targaryen will be one family again. Tell that to your family once you've returned."

"I will." Oberyn smiles.

"And find me again, if you happen to be in Essos." Viserys tugs on Oberyn's arm, bringing their faces close. "I won't be hard to find from now on. My path shall be marked by fire and blood. My location shall be known to all. And Westeros will tremble when they hear of my deeds."

Oberyn closes the distance between their lips.

"A promise. We'll meet again."

****

They make their way to the slavers market. Time to pay his dues. Viserys has a grim smile plastered across his face. Yes, the slave-master is going to like his dragon. Viserys is reminded of himself receiving his crown back then. He appreciates some good irony, even if it's directed against him.

Viserys walks over to the slave-master, the leash of his dragon in one hand. Then he reaches for the whip the master is holding, impatiently. The man reaches for the leash greedily, putting the whip in Viserys' hand.
Viserys turns to Missandei. "Is the deal complete now?"

"They follow the orders of the holder of the whip." Missandei confirms.

Viserys looks at his new army with satisfaction.

=Unsullied! Draw your swords!=

He watches the motion run over the rows like a wave. Oh, yes. Power is better than sex.

=Now kneel!=

Viserys' eyes are glued to the rows of men sinking to their knees. Just like Westeros will kneel before him. Soon enough.

Drogo watches Viserys' radiant expression as he beholds his army. Viserys seems to draw raw power from such displays of subordination towards his person. Drogo doesn't think that this is particularly healthy. And he's not sure it is going to end well. But he's down for the ride, one way or another. And somewhere along said way the thought of Viserys being his king has started to feel natural.
He catches another look at Viserys' triumphant expression and it seems to say, 'I warned you'. And, really, someone should have warned him.

Meanwhile the slave-master has been too busy trying to tame his dragon to become aware of any of the things that happened beside him. =Tell that cunt, his beast won't come.= He then yells angrily towards Missandei, struggeling against the pulling of the dragon.

=That's because a dragon is not a slave.= Viserys says with the good humor of telling the punchline of an especially good joke.

The slave-master looks at him, as if he's seeing him for the first time.

=I am Viserys Targaryen. And well, I guess I won't have to tell you what that means. You now have the one time chance to apologize to my sister.=

The slave-master's eyes go huge and he seems like he's about to swallow his own tongue.

Viserys laughs. =I'm joking, I'm joking. Of course you don't get the chance to apologize.= He adds as if in afterthought, "Dracarys."

Viserys watches the slave-master go up in flames. It's somehow become the theme of his newly aquired reign. Maybe he should change the banner of Targaryen from a dragon to three dragons and a burning man. The thought makes him chuckle. His eyes never leave the burning man until his body finally falls to the floor. Then he frees his dragon of his chain.

=Unsullied! Slay the masters! Slay everyone holding a whip! Except me!= He adds the latter just to be on the safe side. Then he turns to his dragons. "And you my sweet things, help them. But don't burn my city down."

The dragons take flight.

****

The flames lick high at the houses of the slave market, tinging Viserys' hair red, somewhere between copper and molten gold. And as if it wasn't ironic enough, Drogo takes this moment to question if Daenerys is really the most beautiful thing he's ever set his eyes on.

****

The Unsullied have returned from their task. The city is in chaos. But it is controlled chaos. Controlled by him. Viserys looks at his slave-army. Another city. Another step. An army. After all the shit he's been through, it occurs to him for the first time, that he might actually succeed. That it's not just a dream he's chasing.

"Well, well." Time to really start doing this.

****

"I'm not freeing them." Viserys snorts. "Did you really believe me just for one second?"

"You can't! You- You can't!!" Daenerys yells at him. "You promised!"

"I did no such thing. And even if I had. Why should I stick to it, if it's not to my benefit. You should be grateful I even freed the regular slaves. But if you don't understand why I wouldn't throw away a priceless army, you really are as stupid as you act sometimes." His voice is cold. He never raises it once.

****

=I assume you are organized into ranks? You will choose one among you, who will take orders directly from me!= Viserys orders his new army.

It doesn't take long until one among them walks forward to Viserys, kneeling in front of him.

=This one was chosen to receive orders from you, master.=

Viserys narrows his eyes, looking at the man, whose face seems strangely familiar.

=I know you. I talked to you earlier. Your name is Grey Worm, right?= It's not possible to forget a name as ugly as this one.

=That is correct, master. This one is honored to have made an impression.=

=Now, Grey Worm, I have great plans, but first things first. You and your men will first make sure that the city is secured. I want the fires put out and this things of worth in the houses of the slain masters collected. I want guards on the entrances of the city. And find the largest house in the city and have it cleaned up, so I can set myself up in it.=

=Yes, master.=

****

"Don't tell me you are offended by my decision, or I'll have to laugh." Viserys tells Drogo, giving him a once-over, eyebrow raised.

"I completely understand. But Daenerys never will."

"Yes," Viserys nods with a sour smile. "It must be nice to have the freedom to always make the 'right' decision."

****

The Targaryens didn't keep slaves. There is no slavery in Westeros. It is a habit of those uncivilized people across the sea. People who are still living like centuries ago. It is not a habit befitting a king. But he's not yet a king, is he? Would they follow him? They would follow Dany, Drogo is right about that. Because they would be able to tell that she's sincere. Viserys would want them to follow him too. He will never tell, but he wants it too. The awe and the love. Not the look of fear and hate. The look of people beat into submission. But war is not a time for wants and wishes. There is no love for him out there. The only genuine affection he gets is from his dragons and Rhaego. They look at him and love him unconditionally. They don't understand or don't care about what he does.
He wonders how things had been had their roles be reversed. Had Dany been the older one, the one who had to care. Would she have become like him? Or would they both have died, because she wasn't strong enough to do the necessary?

He wishes Oberyn was here now. To him he could talk about it. He'd sit there with a cup of wine and an amused smile painted on his face. And he would listen to him, without judging him. He understands what it means to do what needs to be done.

****

Viserys is looking at Rhaego, craddling him in his arms. He's always a source of solace and happiness to him. The next generation of Targaryens. The promise that their family line won't end. This child won't suffer as he and his sister did. He will have an abundance of everything he could need. Always.

"I don't want you near my son." Daenerys' voice cuts through the room.

Viserys looks up, surprised, taking a moment to catch on. Then he laughs.
"Is that your idea of psychological warfare? You think you can make me stay away from this child? Try to see it from my perspective, Dany." He makes no move to put the child down. "First, the practical side: I could throw you into chains, whenever it pleases me. And your husband and his ragtag gang of desert riffraffs could do exactly nothing against it. Second, the moral side: I raised that child, the first year of his life. You have neither right nor means to deny him to me."

"I thought you changed." Daenerys says, shaking her head in disgust. "You have only become a better actor."

"I don't want enmity between us, sister. But if you ask for it, you shall surely have it. And I can promise you that I will win. And if I have to send you and your husband back into the desert you came from, I will do so. But this child will stay with me. Just as my dragons will."

She pales at his words and doesn't say anything else.

And Viserys feels a pain in his heart. He's losing her again. And this time it's not even his fault, but hers. Because she's too stubborn, too caught in her ideals to take a step down into the mudd and take a look around in the real world. He brought her up too sheltered.

****

"What did you say to my wife?" Drogo storms in, for once being the one to barge into the room without knocking.

"You know exactly what I told her, or you wouldn't be here." Viserys doesn't even look up from his letter, despite wanting to see Drogo's face. He half expects to get thrown against the wall or something. A year and a half ago Drogo would have killed him.

"Why do you do this?"

Now Viserys turns around.

"Why do you do this, when you know you will only hurt yourself?" Drogo continues.

"She started it, did she tell you that? And I am hurting anyway, so where's the difference?" Viserys gets up, standing in front of him, despite his eyes being at the same height as Drogo's chest. "Don't want to hit me? Hm, no urge to threaten me?"

Drogo is hit by the unexpected honesty and vulnerability in those words. It's not what he needs. It reminds him that his cut wasn't as clean as he'd thought. That Dany isn't the only one who could be hurt. That Dany isn't the only one who needs his protection. "Don't you feel like that would be ridiculous at this point?" Drogo says, his jaw clenched. "And I remember what you said," he adds. He doesn't want to stand in the middle of their tug-of-war. He doesn't want to choose. But that's exactly the problem, isn't it? That he's considering the possibility of there being a choice.

"Hm, you don't want to hit me," Viserys muses, holding eye-contact. "Do you want to kiss me?" He smirks. "Do you want to fuck me?"

»You know I want to.« Drogo's voice sounds rough, unused, as if the words jarred his throat on the way out. And there's no point at all in saying it. Maybe, he thought that Viserys deserved the same honesty he showed him.

»So, what you're going to do about it?« Viserys asks, stepping even closer.

Drogo's doesn't even touch him. He flees, backing away himself instead of pushing Viserys away. Not trusting himself, here.

»Nothing. I'm going to do nothing about it.«

»Yes, run away you fucking coward.« Viserys laughs sardonically. »Go back and fuck my sister.«

The original topic, Drogo came here for, is forgotten as he flees the room as if he escaped with nothing but his life. He won't be able to help Daenerys in this.
How could he develop these feelings? How was it possible? For a person like Viserys, when he has someone like Daenerys.

****

There are more important things than this stupid man - Who can tell which of the two of them is said stupid man? - But he's shaken by how close they got for a second again, things tittering on the edge, short of tipping over the rim.
But he can't complain, he got what he wanted so far. He has a complete city at his back and call. The second city, he has to remind himself. And it's only the beginning.
He thinks about sitting on the Iron Throne. All alone. No, he wouldn't go through with his threat against his sister. She's going to forgive him at one point. And until then she can hate him. And maybe, if he's lucky, he can come to hate Drogo.
And if he had the chance to stay with Drogo in the desert forever? If he'd get to choose between love and revenge? He's sure he'd still choose revenge. He has to hold on to that thought. Revenge has given him warmth all his life, it will continue to do so.

****

=I'll be eventually marching for Westeros. Do you know Westeros?=

=The great continent across the Narrow Sea, master.= Grey Worm answers immediately.

=That's right. But before that I need more men. More gold. And most of all more reputation. We will march for the next largest city between here and Westeros. Which would that be?=

=That would be Yunkai, master.=

=Did they teach you about geography in your training?=

=Yes, master. We are supposed to know the territory we might fight in.=

=Does it bother you to be a slave?= It's a stupid and sadistical question. There's only one answer Grey Worm can give.

=No, master.=

=What were you before you became a slave?=

=I've always been a slave, master.=

=I won't treat you as cruel as your former master did.= Viserys feels compelled to say it, despite knowing that this changes nothing for these men and that it will only weaken his position. =I want you to fight for me. Nothing more.=

=Yes, master.=

=And I don't need you to back up all of my decisions on the battlefield, if my plan sounds like bullshit to you, you will tell me so. Understood?=

=Yes, master.=

****

=Alright, my plan looks like this,= Viserys looks between the men of his war-council. Drogo, Jorah Mormont, Ser Barristan and Grey Worm. =When we reach Yunkai I will climb over the city wall at night, with a small group of soldiers and we will assassinate the most important men in the city. Chaos will break out and we will be able to take the city in stride,= he presents his battleplan.

There's silence for a moment. Then Grey Worm speaks up.

=Master, that plan would endanger you to an unacceptable amount and the chances to pass the walls of Yunkai, even at night, are close to zero.=

Viserys looks Grey Worm square in the eye and smiles. =Very good.=

****

He doesn't have time to deal with this. Neither with his sister nor Drogo. They deserve each other. How about they take a break from making him miserable and instead make each other miserable.

He misses Drogo. He misses their banter and even their fights. Now there's nothing but tip-toeing around each other. He misses to have someone to talk to.
And hell, he even misses Dany. Despite her being mostly annoying, it was nice to be talking again at all. He hadn't realised how he'd missed it before she fell sick.

He wants someone to talk to, to share confidences. And that someone is sure as hell not going to be Jorah Mormont, about who he's never sure if he's going to start drooling or sink to his knees with zeal, whenever he looks at his sister.

He's alone again, as alone as he's always been. He doesn't remember a time he's been happy before his time with Drogo. Life has never been perfect for him. Not even when he was still safe. He's not trying to recreate the reign of his father. His crazy father.
No times hadn't been perfect, as much as a kid could be aware of such things.
There had been constant tension between Rhaegar and Elia. He remembers hearing Elia crying a lot. He remembers the arguments between his father and Rhaegar. And then Rhaegar had run away with Lyanna.
She was at King's Landing for a short time. There was nothing but shouting and crying. Elia was packing to leave Rhaegar. And then the time to leave was over and they were all sitting inside the Red Keep in hushed, scared silence. And Rhaegar was gone.
At first Viserys had been sure that Rhaegar would win. He would always win. And then the news came that Rhaegar had died. Viserys couldn't believe it, he didn't want to believe it. But everyone was crying and Elia was calling Lyanna names and blaming her for it.
And one morning Lyanna just wouldn't wake up anymore. Elia had pulled him from her bedside. Suicide had been an unfamiliar concept to him back then.
Then the day came when his father told them that they were all doomend and that he was going to burn down the whole city. He was cackling the whole time he was speaking.
Viserys started crying at one point, scared beyond believe. He stood there and watched when Jaime Lannister put his sword through the crazy king.
The nurse hid him and Dany behind a curtain, waiting for a chance to escape the castle. Viserys remembers to this day, how the lifeless body of one of his little cousins fell down just a few feet away from him. And he was pressing his hands over Dany's mouth, willing himself not to make a sound.

Yes, his family had been far from perfect. But they had been his family. And what had there been left for him despite clinging to the happy memories. Yes, those and the things he had planned for the future.
He wouldn't be a crazy king. He wouldn't destroy his family for his own selfish wishes. He would keep them safe no matter what.
Rhaegar was weak. No matter what heroic shit people told about him. Viserys had loved him. But he'd been pathetic and weak. Not an ounce of a leader inside him.
Viserys wouldn't sacrifice alliances for petty things like love.

****

He walks down the battlements of the city which is now his city. The empty wooden poles where the tortured slaves were bound, are still marked by dried blood.
He did good here. He doesn't have to feel guilty for anything. When has he ever felt guilty for anything?
He did in fact for the way he had treated his sister. But she is family.
He throws a look down the walls to the yard where his Unsullied are training.

=Master!= Grey Worm immediately hurries over when he sees Viserys coming down the stairs.

=I'm going to town. You will accompany me.= It's more of a spontanous decision than a plan. But it's a win-win. He can't go drinking on his own anylonger because it has become too dangerous and he actually wants company. Not sex-company but talking-company. And the slaves intrigue him. He can't believe absolute obedience as such can exist, so he's curious to see where they are hiding their souls.

=This one is at your disposal.=

Grey Worm stoically watches Viserys down cup after cup while barely touching his own.

=Aren't you going to drink that?= Viserys asks annoyed after a while.

In reaction Grey Worm downs his drink in one go, without even blinking, let alone coughing.

=You know, you could just kill me here and go back and take over this whole city with your men and none of us had anything to stand against you.= Viserys isn't particularly self-destructive. But the man sitting beside him is smart. Viserys isn't telling him anything he doesn't already know. His reaction is what Viserys is curious about.

=I have no intention to harm you, master.=

That's as close to a sincere response as he's going to get, Viserys assumes. At least Grey Worm is admitting to the misproportion of power.

****

Again he's taken onto another spree through the bars by his master and king.
The man who asks unfamiliar questions and addresses him with soldier not slave.
Everything the man says to him seems to be some kind of test. What he's been tested for thought he can't seem to fathom.

=You really need to learn my language.=

=Of course, master.=

=I don't know whether to be annoyed or impressed by your performance.=

=If this one is displeasing to you, master, I shall immediately find replacement.=

****

=Master,= Grey Worm speaks up after another meeting. =what should be done about those who haven't completed their training?=

Viserys is puzzled by this for a moment too. But of course, there are slaves of every age in various stages of training. =Train them as you see fit.= Viserys turns around once more before Grey Worm leaves. =No more dead babies,= he adds.

There's the ghost of a smile on Grey Worm's face. And all Viserys can think is, 'Damn, I'm not a monster!'. He doesn't exactly agree with the training methods either. Any sane person can tell that what is done to those men is cruel. But then again, Viserys has to consider this himself. What's he supposed to do? Will he just continue to use the one's he has? What in a few years? He might need more. But for that he'd need more slaves. Children. To be trained in this way. What if he trains them differently? Then they'll be weak. Power doesn't come without sacrifices. But he won't be the one making those sacrifices. Not anymore. It is time for others to make sacrifices.
He used to not think about this. Being a monster is fun, no doubt about that. He remembers Qarth vividly. That was fun. Oh, yes.
He never pretended that slaves aren't people just like them. There's no such thing as superior people. Some people just have bad luck. There's no need to save them, because they wouldn't save you either.

****

Grey Worm watches his master. Grey Worm always considered himself to be a good judge of character, a good judge of masters. He sees their pettiness, their weaknesses. He always knows which role to play to survive. And in this master he sees a deep sadness. The loneliness is hard to miss, so is the arrogance. There's also restlessness. And restlessness is always dangerous. A idle mind can turn cruel.

=You're boring me.= Viserys states, leaning into Grey Worm's space while downing his untouched drink. =Tell me something you actually believe. Did you never think about what it would be like to be free?=

It's dangerous game they're playing here. But despite all the strange quirks his new master has plenty of, there's no real intention there to harm. An honest answer shouldn't be such a big step. There's nothing to lose here. And he's interested in the man's reaction.

=Our titles and possessions only make us slave of another kind. If we fear to lose something we are slaves to the one who can secure them for us or take them from us.=

=Very philosophical for a soldier. But kind of a dire perspective on life in general, isn't it?=

It feels strange. Here he sits in idle discussion with his slave. Discussing philosophy. He should probably ask himself what it makes him that the only one he can still talk to is a slave, but he's too intrigued to bother with such thoughts right now.

=Where did you read this?=

=I didn't read it. We all know it. It's been handed down from generation to generation. The words were those of a wise man who lived centuries ago. He was a slave too. His leg got smashed by his master. But he was set free at one point.=

=Tell me more of him.=

****

And gradually there's less and less alcohol involved in their discussions and they start to move from the night to be conducted during the day.

=I know enough about being subjected to the disdain of others.= Viserys tells Grey Worm. Maybe it's true that you can talk best to a total strange. But then again, Grey Worm isn't a stranger to him anylonger. At the same time he feels stupid for comparing what happened to him with being abused as a slave. Grey Worm doesn't call him on it though, of course not.

=What does a stone care when you talk abuse against him? And if you listen like a stone, who shall talk abuse against you?=

Viserys is surprised by those words. It's a brilliant perspective and also a very sad one. Stones. Thousands of little stones were raised in this city. Dignity. Viserys likes to think he's kept his over the years, but he's probably only made a fool of himself. But on the other hand, he kept going and got here in the first place. And really if he'd follow Grey Worm's point of view, what should he care whether others consider him a fool?

=Is this what makes you go on? What helps you endure this life of misery?= It's not really a question. Viserys knows it must be. Otherwise what would be left, except revenge? And the slaves had the perfect chance for an uprising when he took the city.

=Freedom is nothing that has to do with possessions or the general concept of freedom. The only true freedom that is given to men is the freedom of choice. They can deny me food and starve me to death, but no one can make me stop wanting to eat. And that is what counts.= Grey Worm seeks Viserys' eyes again. =This one, just like the rest of my brothers is not striving for the physical things in life. We are striving for the right mindset in life.=

****

»What am I supposed to do?« Daenerys asks her husband, desperation in her voice. »How am I supposed to sway him?«

»Leave it be, my love.«

»Are you taking his side?« Daenerys remembers when she told him about Viserys' threats. Before he would have gone and tried to kill Viserys (not that that would have been a desired result). Not this time. He talked to him. They didn't even raise their voices. Neither her husband nor her brother used to have that kind of restraint.

»I'll always be taking your side.«

»But not because you believe it.« She states bitterly.

»Life isn't made of easy decisions.« Her husband reminds her.

Those two went through a lot together. For her. She doesn't begrudge them their friendship. She even welcomed it. Just not now.

»If he will be swayed, he won't be swayed by you.« Drogo says calmly.

And since when has he become the expert of all things Viserys? No, she mustn't be spiteful just because not everyone is jumping at her command. Drogo always had a different opinion on the matter of slavery. But she can't give up either.

****

=And we must only look around us and see the trees and the sun, to realise that there is a God who loves und provides for us. And for any hardship he sends us, he's given us the means to battle them.=

=That easy?= Viserys looks at Grey Worm, curiously.

=Is it not, master? Has God not given you the means to conquer all the odds in your way?= A little smile plays around Grey Worm's mouth.

=Well, damn,= Viserys shakes his head and then starts laughing. =You might just be right about that.=

****

"Get your stuff, Dany! We're marching for Yunkai" Viserys tells Daenerys, not bothering to enter the room.

She still doesn't talk to him.

He enters her room after all now.

"Dany, have you ever, in your whole life, tried to see things my way? You accuse me of so many things. Tell me, constantly I am wrong, I am despictable. But I have to ask you, what have you ever done for this family, except agreeing to that marriage? Where would we be now, if I had always heeded your words? In the gutter! That's where! The only reason you could always take the high road, was because I was down there in the dirt, doing what had to be done." He hasn't realised until now, that his fist are clenched to a painful extent.

She looks at him for a while, seeming rattled, stricken even, but then she speaks again. "You can't justify everything with trying to protect our family. Not when you have the choice. We don't need this crown. If the Unsullied won't stay with us. We can just stay here, or return to Qarth. Wouldn't the good of freeing so many people rank higher than the crown of a country we haven't seen for over a decade."

"What about the people in Westeros. Don't they deserve a just ruler instead of an crazy usurper and constant civil war?"

"I'm not convinced you are going to be a just ruler." She says very calmly.

She doesn't say it to provoke. She says it because it's her honest opinion.

"Good to get it out in the open." He forces a smile. "But I'm going to be." He says, forcefully.

"You made a bloodbath of every city we conquered so far."

"Because it was necessary!"

"Why is it necessary?!"

"If you don't have a stable regency, you might just as well not rule at all. Do you think constant uprisings and everchanging new regents are good for a people? They fear me now, so they won't go against me. That means stable economics instead of countless meaningless deaths and starving women and children."

"Did you really do it because of that, or are you just making it up now, because it sounds good?"

"Yes, sister. Contrary to my reputation I think about what I do."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did." Viserys gives a wry smile. "Can you not love me? Is it too late? Is all you can manage to tolerate me?"

"Oh, Viserys, I do love you." She says, tiredly. "That's why I still have hope for you."

****

=What is worth fighting for?=

=Whatever master deems worthy to.=

=Not that easy,= Viserys wiggles his index in mock-reproach. =Seriously. Let's say I'd fight to free the cities around here from slavery. Would that be a cause worth fighting for?=

=Do you consider yourself a free man?=

=Of course.= Viserys brows draw together, not understanding the question.

=Are all your actions and decisions free from outward compulsion or pressure? Are you not slave to the crown you desire to obtain?=

=I chose to want that crown.= Viserys replies, defensively. =Isn't all your little philosophy about choice?=

=Was it really you who chose?=

That gives Viserys pause. It's an ugly thought. An thought that would question his every decision. Because, if it should turn out that this isn't all he ever wanted, every single thing he did so far, every action, cruelty justified by necessity, would have been in vain. =I'd rather be slave to my own ambitions than a free beggar on the street.= Viserys winces at the harsh tone of his voice. He appreciates being told the truth, especially by those he considers friends. =I appreciate your council.= He adds in a milder tone, but Grey Worm's expression has closed down already.

=This one is honored, master.=

****

They leave the bloodied poles of Astapor behind them and Viserys is glad. He doesn't feel the need for further conversations with Grey Worm either.

Hopefully the newly appointed government of the city will keep everything in check.

Being on the road again isn't helpful either, it reminds him too much about the desert and Drogo. And of course there's the heat and flies and unsufficient commodities for hygiene. But well, how do they say, 'Beggars can't be choosers'.

****

The streets are covered in ash, the houses are burned black as coal. The constant wail of the survivers slowly simmers down, as the last ones succumb to their injuries. The walls in the Red Keep are streaked with blood. He sits on the Iron Throne, at his feet the heads of the Tywin Lannister, Geoffrey Lannister, Stannis Baratheon and all the others. Faces he hadn't seen for years, but would never forget. Some faces he doesn't even know.
One of his dragons takes Tywin Lannister's head between his teeth, cracking it like an eggshell.

Viserys wakes up and feels an achingly deep surge of depression, when this wasn't a nightmare in any way. That's just Grey Worm fucking with his head. But, no, Viserys isn't that easy to play.
Questioning his motivations won't get him anywhere. He wants that throne. He always wanted it. He's not giving up now. Grey Worm doesn't know him. Who does he think he is, having an opinion about Viserys' life?

Who is he supposed to talk to about this? Drogo? Hardly. Daenerys would probably be delighted, but he'd rather cut his tongue out than say a word about this to her.
He talks to his dragons, eventually. They always listen.
"...And the problem is... It makes me angry. It makes me angry to be shaken that easily. My own sister doesn't believe in me. Okay, she's stupid, but still. Is it weak to want acceptance? Don't answer that. I know it's weak. But I won't be weak. If only those deserve power that use it for good, why is it then that those who have power are anything but just?"
No, his soul won't be saved anytime soon.

****

They're halfway to Yunkai, when they get attacked. It's not a real army, but a desert tribe. Still they count probably at least a hundred fighters on horseback. That's their mistake. They think their few, fast and agile numbers will give the chance for a fast surprise attack against the slow, huge number of foot soldiers. They underestimated the speed of the Unsullied. Viserys doesn't even have to do anything. The Unsullied move like an arm of a huge body. Fast, precise and perfectly coordinated.
It's his first chance to see his men really in action and to say the result pleases him would be the understatement of the year. Not only do they kill every single men, no, they also move the corpses off the road so the others can pass.
Look at this. Who'd dare to call him anything less than a king now?

****

=You have their trust, haven't you?= Viserys asks Grey Worm, as they walk through the rows of his soldiers. It is still a frightening mass of condensed power. No one talks to them, they just bow to him and move out of his way. Viserys wonders what these men think about him. What Grey Worm tells them.

=My brothers have entrusted me with the honor of representing them.=

=Brothers, yes? Would neither of you abandon the other? But neither of you would move a finger either if I'd struck one of you down.=

=We are slaves. That is our lot.= Grey Worm answers, unmoved.

=If I'd threatened to kill you now, what were you taught to answer?=

=This one is honored to be struck down by your hand, master.= Grey Worm repeats a line that's been ingrained in him.

=And what would 'you' answer me?=

=You threaten me with death, but nature is threatening you with it.= Grey Worm replies, calmly.

Viserys looks at him disbelieving for a second than he bursts into laughter. =That's a good one! Unbelievable! I hope I get the chance to use that line once myself.=

****

=What is going to happen?= one of his brothers asks him.

=I don't know.= Grey Worm truthfully answers.

=You know him better than us. Is he crazy like they say?=

=He's not crazy. That I am completely sure of.= Grey Worm pauses there, wondering himself about the character of this new king. =I know that things are better now than they used to be.= For once he can say, that he's not sure about the intentions of his master.

Viserys can't tell at all, if there's really something like friendship between them or if Grey Worm is just a good actor. No, that's wrong, he knows Grey Worm is a fantastic actor, he just doesn't know whether Grey Worm was acting all the time.

****

They are three days from Yunkai when Viserys decides how to handle this situation. The nagging doubt won't leave him once he's made the decision. And of course, there's always a better time. And Viserys knows there are always excuses, but cities aren't taken with inaction. And maybe sometimes you have to believe in something. Because if you don't believe in anything, you have nothing. He didn't even believe in himself for a long, long time. And maybe it's time for others to believe in him too.
And when you have realised something for yourself, there's no point in trying to lie to yourself. And Viserys isn't one to do pointless things. And he will continue to do exactly what he wants to do. So, it is only consequent that he does so in this case. Because on the bottom line it's his choice, only his. No matter what the others say.

Maybe it won't be that bad, after all, his most stupid idea turned out to be the best thing he did so far, since otherwise he'd never have found out about indeed sharing the dragon-heritage.

"Just so you know, sister," Viserys tells Dany, when he raises the scepter, "If they turn on us, I will spend my last living moments laughing at you." He won't keep slaves. He won't keep on owning these men. He sure as hell won't have children raised experiencing torture and mutilation. Grey Worm is his friend. And you don't own your friends.
And if he has to justify the decision later, he can always tell himself that they would have probably riotted sooner or later anyway.

=Unsullied! Take off your slave collars!=

They do it without hesitation.

=Men, you are free now!= He drops the whip. =It is your choice whether you want to join me and free others from their chains, or if you want to live your lives in any other way you see fit.=

Maybe they are too far gone already. They don't seem to understand what he's saying. The concept of it. They just stand there unmovingly, looking at him with the same blank expression. At least they are not overrunning him or tearing him to shreds.

=You saw me free the house-slaves! They are citizens now! They are free!=

Maybe they think it's a trick. He'd think it were a trick in their place. His eyes search for those of his confidant for those past weeks.

=Grey Worm!= He calls.

The man steps forward.

Viserys picks up the whip, pressing it into Grey Worm's palm.

=What is this?= He asks the man, loud enough for all others to hear.

=Your whip, master.=

=Wrong. A piece of metal and leather. It gives me control over 20000 men just as much as it gives me control over the weather.= He faces the thousands of warrior-slaves once more. =I saw what you did as slaves. Now, I wanna see what you can do as free men!=

Then Viserys just waits. Holding his breath in front of a crowd that seems to hold their breaths too. He wonders if Rhaegar felt this too, the rush of adrenaline when you realise you've destroyed everything and you have no idea how to deal with the fallout.

Grey Worm is the first to shout it. Then the others chime in.

=Breaker of Chains!=

=I know, since we're all slaves of one kind or another, it doesn't make much difference, but will you help me take the next city and free the slaves there? Or is against your principles?= Viserys asks with a wry smile.

=One of the most important goals of my philosophy is to employ one's gifts and talents to their full potential. We are warriors. We will fight for you.= Grey Worm looks behind him at the many rows of soldiers, then back at Viserys. =And maybe, I can help you become free too.=