He can only stayed holed up in his room with the ghost of his dead mother, still heavily pregnant with his sister, staring at him for so long. She watches him wherever he turns, one hand idly moving over that telltale bump. There are only so many tears he can cry, and handfuls of hair he can rip off (that then turn into clumps of gold), and time spent at her feet with no real answer in those sad, fond eyes. He can only apologize so many times for so many things, for selling the crown this vision of Queen Rhaella Targaryen currently wears, before he knows he must get out lest he suffer true madness a second time.
She follows. Viserys has tried to find clothing more in tune with this world, mostly blacks and reds, but even when he doesn't succeed in matching, he doesn't stand out. She does. With her long silver-gold hair, her flowing pale blue dress, her crown, everything about her screams of royalty out and about with no visible guard around to do their duty. Viserys never speaks to her. Even when he ends up taking a seat at a bench, and she ever-so-graciously slides in next to him, he does not speak to her. He frowns and grumps and looks at her from time to time, but nothing more. She just trails. Silent, half-smiling, sitting or standing next to him without nary a word between the two. They can be found most anywhere — at a park, grocery shopping, even in a bar. Feel free to crash the unhappy family reunion.
for Daenerys;
Eventually, he grows tired of carrying her spirit on his own. There is another who deserves to share this. Viserys may have had years to wonder if he could have changed things, somehow, but Viserys did not crawl out of her and repay her with death. That would have been his once sweet, gentle, lovely little sister Daenerys.
He stops at nothing to find her. Daenerys never had the chance to see their mother, after all, surely she would want that now. The speechless, perfect image of their mother, anyway. When he does get to her, the sight of him in more modern dark clothes and yet an obvious Targaryen queen just behind him may cause a moment's confusion. Or more. He does not worry with that. He says nothing at first, only letting her absorb the image, and then manages to do the duties generally left for those outside the royal family...introductions. Sort of. He steps aside with his arms out in her direction, smiling somewhat as she rests her hands atop her stomach. Three guesses who Viserys' image of their mother is pregnant with and the first two do not count.
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He can only stayed holed up in his room with the ghost of his dead mother, still heavily pregnant with his sister, staring at him for so long. She watches him wherever he turns, one hand idly moving over that telltale bump. There are only so many tears he can cry, and handfuls of hair he can rip off (that then turn into clumps of gold), and time spent at her feet with no real answer in those sad, fond eyes. He can only apologize so many times for so many things, for selling the crown this vision of Queen Rhaella Targaryen currently wears, before he knows he must get out lest he suffer true madness a second time.
She follows. Viserys has tried to find clothing more in tune with this world, mostly blacks and reds, but even when he doesn't succeed in matching, he doesn't stand out. She does. With her long silver-gold hair, her flowing pale blue dress, her crown, everything about her screams of royalty out and about with no visible guard around to do their duty. Viserys never speaks to her. Even when he ends up taking a seat at a bench, and she ever-so-graciously slides in next to him, he does not speak to her. He frowns and grumps and looks at her from time to time, but nothing more. She just trails. Silent, half-smiling, sitting or standing next to him without nary a word between the two. They can be found most anywhere — at a park, grocery shopping, even in a bar. Feel free to crash the unhappy family reunion.
for Daenerys;
Eventually, he grows tired of carrying her spirit on his own. There is another who deserves to share this. Viserys may have had years to wonder if he could have changed things, somehow, but Viserys did not crawl out of her and repay her with death. That would have been his once sweet, gentle, lovely little sister Daenerys.
He stops at nothing to find her. Daenerys never had the chance to see their mother, after all, surely she would want that now. The speechless, perfect image of their mother, anyway. When he does get to her, the sight of him in more modern dark clothes and yet an obvious Targaryen queen just behind him may cause a moment's confusion. Or more. He does not worry with that. He says nothing at first, only letting her absorb the image, and then manages to do the duties generally left for those outside the royal family...introductions. Sort of. He steps aside with his arms out in her direction, smiling somewhat as she rests her hands atop her stomach. Three guesses who Viserys' image of their mother is pregnant with and the first two do not count.
"Do you see her? This is our mother."