Viserys held baby Dany in his arms, the infant wailing with hunger. The five year old boy was feverish and his belly was groaning. He had to stumble through the markets, begging for some coins while he was shaking and sweating. No one seemed to care as his belly cramped and his bowels became liquid. He stumbled behind a pile of rubbish in an alley and collapsed.

He took the time to bundle up his baby sister and tuck her into her old blanket. He tried using what water was left in his bottle to clean his bottom. He definitely had cholera, or something similar. A bubbly gurgle tore through his tummy and he rushed to the discarded trash bin to empty his guts. He was so unbelievably thirsty, but drinking even a little water turned his tummy. He wanted to cry, to scream, to howl. But he didn't have the strength.

There, in the alley, was where you found the littles. You'd followed the sound of a baby bawling and found Dany in her swaddle. Viserys was lying near her, writhing from the awful bacteria tearing up his little belly.