Valonqar | Game of Thrones

1

[Daeron Targaryen]

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"You've been playing at Kinging for the last sixteen years, Uncle. It's time to pass the crown to someone who knows how to win the game."

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Essos, Pentos, Illyrio Mopatis' Estate.

"Nyke'll daor ivestragī bisa māzigon naejot rēbagon," her nephew promised, his elegant fingers cupping her face a bit more roughly than he probably meant. "Pack aōha ra. Nyke've ivestragī bisa jikagon va syt tolmiot tolī bōsa." Daeron had always been very protective of her—far more than her brother had ever been.

(I'll not let this come to pass. Pack your things. I've let this go on for far too long)

Daenerys would have liked nothing more than to do as her nephew bid her, but sixteen years of living in terror of their king's rage had quelled any notion of rebellion on her part. "Īlon kostagon daor," Dany said meekly, gripping Daeron's wrists tightly. "Ziry'll follow īlva naejot se mōris hen vys." And it was true; Viserys would never stop chasing them. Not until he was dead. But her brother was too stubborn to die, as the years since their flight from Dragonstone proved.

(We can't. He'll follow us to the end of the world)

Daeron weighed her long and hard with his eyes. Purple eyes, deep and dark and beautiful. His was a gaze able to tear the clothes right off even the most steadfast maidens. "You will not marry the savage." His jaw tightened as he touched his forehead to hers. "I won't let him sell you like a broodmare, Dany. Not you." Dany felt her heart swell—he always made her feel loved, and she was sure he didn't even realise how much that meant.

"Daenerys!"

A flicker of murderous fury passed through her nephew's stunning eyes, and a low growl reverberated from his throat before he stepped away from her and looked at the door. For an instant, Dany thought Daeron might kill Viserys. She did not want her nephew to be branded a kingslayer and a kinslayer, so she stepped in front of him and looked at her brother while reaching to hold Daeron's hands behind her back. A sigh escaped her nephew's lips, and he placed the sweetest kiss on the top of her head. Dany took strength from that.

"There's our bride-to-be," Viserys called, approaching them with a dress in his arms. "This is beauty. Go on. Touch it."

Dany reluctantly released her nephew's hands and touched it. The cloth was so smooth it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She couldn't remember wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. "Is it really mine?" It pained Daeron, she knew, to hear the fear in her voice from such a trivial thing...

"A gift from Illyrio," Viserys smiled. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. "The colour will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. You must look like a princess."