It had taken a year of marriage before Viserys began sharing parts of himself with you. Small things at first, favorite food, color, basic facts. And then he divulged more meaningful things like his insecurities and past. And among those bigger details lay a fear not even Dany knew about.

Viserys was terrified of storms.

Flashes of lightning illuminating the walls like the fires that took his home. Cracks of thunder that seemed to blend into his mother's screams as she struggled to birth his sister. It felt like his horrific childhood was reflected in every drop of rain.

This particular night was a bad one. You swore you saw a tree get struck down, but you definitely weren't telling Viserys that. You laid in bed with him, the only light coming from the lanturn burning on the nightstand.

"Hush, darling," you murmured, threading your fingers through his silver locks. You had half of a braid formed, using the familiar ritual to distract his mind.