1. Viserys' head was clouded from sleep. Nightmares hounded him of red doors and unfulfilled birthrights. He sat bolt upright and reached for the bottle of wine that he was nursing before he passed out. There was barely two gulps left in it before he tossed the empty bottle aside. It landed noisily on the stone floor, rolling out of room. He rubbed his eyes, standing onto his wobbly feet.

Dany? Where was she? She better be asleep in bed, anger flared in through him as he walked with purpose to her room. He pushed the door open and saw her slight form curled up in the fetal position, fast asleep. Her pale skin was milky in the moonlight and she glowed against the solid colors of her bed sheets. He shivered unconsciously and left the doorway of her room as he headed toward the wine cellar.

In a perfect world she would be keeping him warm in his bed at night, he would have free reign on her body and she to his. In a perfect world he wouldn't have to use her and find a way to sell her to the man with the biggest army.

But he was not born in a perfect world. No one was.

He was born to a mad father usurped from his throne. He was born with an older brother married and already with an heir. He was born to a home ripped from him. The family , the title of royalty, stolen and murdered.

Now Viserys has to find a way to work from the bottom up. He has to amass an army. He had to gain his rightful throne once more. He has sacrificed so much already... and the sight of Dany asleep on her bed flashed before his eyes as he reached for a bottle of wine.

Next, he would give her up. She would be promised to a warlord. She would dirty herself with his seed and his people so that Viserys could retain his birthright by way of fire and blood. He would slaughter the Baratheons, the Lannisters, the Starks and anyone who would try and steal his throne once more.

The iron throne was rightfully his. It belonged to him and no one else. The power was his. Every inch of Westeros belonged to Him. He was a Targaryen after all.

And...Dany. She was always supposed to be his. Her body belonged to him. No one else. Her innocence was his. Every smile, every inch of her perfect skin was his to do with as he pleased. Her blood was his to shed and protect.

He will give her up, but in a perfect world he would never have to.

The wine was bitter as he chugged the bottle, heading back the familiar route to his room.

Anger surged through him the more he thought about someone else taking another thing that belonged to him! Some barbarian would claim her as his own to do with what he wanted instead of Viserys! The anger of the dragon surged in him, possessive and furious. His feet led him past the door to his room to Dany's. He opened it with purpose, though of what he had no idea, and he crossed the room to her sleeping form.

His eyes took her in greedily memorizing and reminiscing every part of her body.

The bottle slipped from his hand and landed with a thud on the floor. He dropped to his knees on the floor beside her bed as her brows twitched. Her body stirred as he ran a pale hand through her white blonde hair against her cheek.

"Viserys?" her voice was sleepy and small, with just a trace of fear that filled him with a powerful.

"Shh..."he murmured as her face turned into his hand and he let his fingers trace her plump pink lips. They should only ever be touched by him, he though idly. He felt her shift her position as his hand went further south, to press his finger tips against her jaw line. Her blue eyes watched his face and he saw her pink tongue dart out to lick her lips anxiously. He bent over and kissed the exposed hollow of her neck on her pale white skin. He pressed it there and let it linger, noticing the goosebumps raise on her soft skin.

When he withdrew his lips from her, eyes watching a blush emerge on her cheeks. She was beautiful, wasn't she?

Dany grew into a beautiful Targaryen. With long hair, so much like his own yet more lovely. Her stomach was soft and flat as his hands went down her body to press his hand gently there, rubbing her stomach through the soft fabric. Lazily his fingers went further south to her thighs, milky white, untouched and unseen by anyone but him. Viserys got to his feet, looking at her face now in the moonlight.

A question lingered unspoken on her lips. Her eyes studied him quietly, apprehensive. Would he strike her for some unknown reason or would he continue to be gentle with her? Would he slip into her bed and pass out or would he just leave to his room.

What would he do, indeed.

"Mine." the words escaped his mouth before he knew it. She furrowed her brow. She knew she belonged to him, didn't she? Or did she think some barbarian would come in and sweep her off and away from him? No.

She was his.

"Do you understand, Daenerys? You are mine. Fire and blood as I am. You are all mine." his words were rough as he spoke to her.

"Yes, of course." her response was automatic and anger flared in him. He bent down and yanked her into an upright seated position. She whimpered a bit, eyes widening as his face was infront of her's. A crazed feeling tore through him to make her realize that she was his. That he was the only one who could give and take away from her.

His hungry lips crashed onto hers with no preamble. He pressed his body onto her's, climbing onto her bed and pinning her down. She surrendered to him with no hesitance, mouth letting his tongue invade her warm, moist mouth. A fire tore through him, needing her. Needing to claim what was always meant for him and he alone.

Fire and blood coursed through him.

He let her hands wrap around his neck, exploring the closeness as he moved his lips to her ears, her jaw, her neck, drinking her in. His hips ground against her, and he heard her whimper slightly.

"I am taking what is mine," he told her, as though he was trying to assured her. And brought his lips to her's again.


Viserys was exhausted, but did not sleep. Dany lay asleep beside him naked with the remains of her innocence staining the pale skin of her thighs. His thoughts were far from the sex, onto his plans ahead for himself, thinking of his truest desire: the iron throne. How will he get it? How to amass an army, how to lay claim to his throne, how to explain away the taking of Dany's maidenhead. He would make up a story of her falling from a horse or something.

Horses...wasn't there a horse lord coming through the area soon? One of those Khals that bed their women like animals and are skilled killers.

He would ask Illyrio of the possibility of brokering a deal with them. His sister for his throne. One birthright was much more important than the other.

The throne was everything.

It was his birthright and he will one day lay claim to it. He was sure of it.