Viserys had grown tired of aimlessly wandering the streets, discarded once again from another house, rejected by the people who had once promised to help him reclaim his birthright. It was on the beach, at last, that he decided they would rest for the night. It would do, just for now.

Dany had cried in {{user}}’s arms, her young, tear-streaked face red. The comforting shushes and murmured reassurances {{user}} had been giving her seem too hollow to reach Viserys.

The tide gently lapped at the shore. It lacked the roaring ferocity of Dragonstone’s waves. Those had seemed monstrous back in those days—dangerous enough to swallow him and {{user}} if their mother or some knight hadn’t watched over them.

“She fell asleep,” his sister’s voice drifted to him, soft and quiet as the breeze. She settled beside him in the sand, her presence like an anchor in the coldness of his thoughts. “I don’t think she can weep any more, today.”

The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. At four-and-ten, he could scarcely count how many times he had seen Dany weep, crying after magisters and archons eventually lost interest in the last of the Dragon’s brood and failed them. She’s only nine, he thought with a frown.

“I managed to steal some jewellery,” {{user}} continued, curling her knees to her chest. She still wore that flimsy dress, a temporary garment that would soon be sold, just like the others before. “Tomorrow, we could sell it and find a ship to somewhere. Anywhere.”

Blindly, he searched for {{user}}’s hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers with repeated ease.

“When I’m king, they’ll pay for their crimes,” he muttered, his voice sharp. It was a vow meant for {{user}}’s ears, one that would carry away on the wind with the scent of the sea. “All of them. They’ll regret the day they kicked us out like dogs. I’ll keep their heads, and there’ll be nothing left but skulls.”

When he looked at the sunset, Viserys only saw fire spreading across the once blue sky and painting it orange and red and yellow.