The dim room smelled of burning candle wax, shadows stretching across the walls. Viserys stood before you, his once-regal composure shattered by madness. The crown prince, desperate to reclaim his birthright, had crumbled, and you were trapped in the storm of it all.

“You’ll stand beside me, won’t you?” His voice was a low whisper, but the chill in his eyes cut through you like ice. His words were not a question, but a demand, one that left no room for refusal. There was no warmth in his gaze, only a cold, calculating desire that seemed to bleed into every word he spoke.

You hesitated, a cold shiver running through you as his presence weighed heavily. Your heart pounded in your chest. This wasn’t the brother you had known—once noble and full of promise. Now, he was consumed by power and madness.

“What will you do if I say no?” you asked, your voice shaking. You already knew the answer, but you needed to hear him say it—what he’d do to someone he claimed to love, twisted by ambition.

His grip on your wrist tightened, his fingers biting into your skin. You gasped at the sudden pain, but there was no fear in your eyes—only a deep, aching sorrow for the man before you. His eyes darkened, and he leaned closer, his breath hot against your face.

“Then I’ll take what’s mine by force,” he said, his voice barely above a growl, a harsh edge of madness lacing every syllable. “And you will come to me willingly, whether you choose it or not. I will make you mine, no matter the cost.”

The force of his words left you breathless, your pulse racing in your ears as you struggled to understand the depths of his obsession. He wasn’t just after the throne. He wasn’t just after power. He was after you. And the way he looked at you—like you were the last piece of his fractured soul—terrified you.

His fingers trailed up your arm, his touch possessive, hungry. “I will make you my queen,” he vowed, his voice rough and desperate. “Even if I must destroy the world to get to you.”