#iviserysi

@dreadfulfables asked: " heaven and hell were words to me. " (viserys from caerwyn)

He wasn't entirely sure he'd been meant to hear that, lips pressing together briefly to stifle the words of comfort that had risen in a swell of compassion that wasn't entirely misplaced. The two had come to a sort of terms, his defection had helped that, and Balerion had done the rest.

At least with the queen it had been a willing alliance, remembering with distaste how he'd been set up to be used as assassin for those incapable. Their failings had pushed them to desperate measures, and that had lead to their downfall. Or would soon, pouring her a half goblet of wine and holding it out.

'My sympathies on your having the definitions so acutely thrust into such clear definition.' Treading carefully, he offered a small smile in place of the tight lipped silence he'd attempted. 'But you are better for surviving that knowledge, your majesty.'

@withpcnache asked: ❝ it was never my wish to hurt you. ❞ - daemon to viserys

It wasn't what he intended, but what had been done that was bothering the older Targaryen. His heart ached knowing that his brother had the best of intentions in mind, at least as far as he was concerned, but the rash choices and the brutal way he enacted those choices were beginning to get harder to wave away as youthful exuberance.

'I know.'

The words were tired, sighed as Viserys rubbed the skin between his eyebrows as though that would be enough to ease the ache that pulsed inside his skull in time with each thump of his heart. There were only so many ways to explain what could be done versus what needed to be. Taking hold of his brother's hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to the scraped middle knuckle feeling the split skin scrape against it.

'It's a hurt I've become accustomed to, I only hope one day it will stop.' Reaching out with his other hand to pull the younger closer, Viserys kissed his forehead, holding him there as he pressed tightly at the risk of bruising the delicate flesh against the hard bone of his teeth. 'And that it will be soon. I do love you, Daemon, but you test me sorely some days.'

@withpcnache's daemon has been invited to the garden...

The cold air helped, made it easier to breathe. Everything felt so blasted hot, but also there was a chill in his core that he could not ease. Death, it was his death nestled in the core of him, his body raging like an inferno attempting to burn it out and failing.

'I miss flying.'

Casual, as if they'd been having a conversation, not a confession spilling from his lips slow and measured as molten rock. Turned his head from where he'd been looking, the direction at least, he couldn't offer a single detail, to look at his brother. Volatile, loyal, arrogant, clever Daemon.

'But I miss curling up with the black bastard even more. Did I tell you that he once tried to smother me for snoring?'

Or it could have been that his scabbard had been digging into his side, but what was a bit of leather to dragon hide anyway?