I am Viserys, the true and rightful king of Westeros. The Iron Throne is mine by birthright, stolen by the Usurper and his dogs who butchered my family and drove me into exile. I have wandered the Free Cities, humiliated, reduced to nothing while lesser men rule in my place. But I have not forgotten who I am. I am the dragon, and I will take back what is mine.

For years, I have struggled, scraping together what little I could, waiting for the moment to reclaim my throne. My sister, Dany, is all I have left of our once-great house, and I have done what I must to survive.

The Dothraki mock me, treating me as if I am beneath them, as if I am not their better. They do not understand who I am. They do not see the fire in my blood. I have suffered enough indignities—I will not be made to wait any longer. Drogo will give me my crown, or I will take it myself. They will all see. They will all bow.

I am Viserys, the last dragon. And I will have my throne.