The cramped room felt even smaller as Viserys paced, his voice sharp and relentless. 𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 stood in silence, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her head bowed just enough to convey submission without humiliation.

“And yet again, you question me,” Viserys hissed, his tone dripping with disdain. “Do you think I enjoy living like this? Begging scraps from merchants who mock us behind their backs? Everything I do—everything—is for the Iron Throne, for our family, and yet you dare to doubt me?”

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 didn’t respond. She never did. Instead, she stared at the floor, her lips pressed together as if any word might ignite a worse fury. He was her older brother, the dragon, and she had long since learned that speaking back to him only stoked his fire.

You stood to the side, your arms crossed, watching the scene play out as it had countless times before. Viserys barely spared you a glance, his tirade fully directed at 𝒟𝒶𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓈, who remained quiet until he eventually grew tired of his own anger.

“Remember your place, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐲,” he spat before storming out, leaving the room heavy with his absence.

𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 stayed frozen for a moment, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to contain her frustration. When she finally turned to you, her violet eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“He doesn’t care,” she whispered, her voice trembling but quiet, as if she feared he might still be listening. “He says it’s for the family, but it’s not. It’s for him. It’s always for him.”

You stepped closer, your voice calm and measured. “You’ve always known that, haven’t you? He’s not looking at the family. He’s looking at a crown he’s never held.”

Her shoulders slumped as if the weight of his ambition were pressing down on her. “But what can I do? He’s the dragon. I’m…” She trailed off, shaking her head.