Chapter Text
They came for him after the fifth day. They bound him in so many chains he could barely walk but needn’t have bothered. He was too tired, too hungry… too numb to everything other than grief.
He couldn’t even feel dread anymore.
She left me to die…
He had not believed it when they had told him. When they had come for him and thrown him in this cell. His mother would not leave him. She would find a way to save him… She was his mother… Five days had done much to dissuade him of that notion.
He was so lost in his grief he did not realise they were not bringing him to the dungeons, as he had expected. They were not even bringing him to the Throne room or the Courtyard where people might see his execution.
No, when he was finally forced to his knees in front of his Uncle, it was in his private rooms. The rooms once occupied by his grandfather. He barely had time to glance at the beautiful woman in the corner or the tall, intimidating figure of King Maegor before his captors threw him to his knees none too gently.
His breath being forced from his lungs was the only sound in the room. He dared not raise his head, dared not do anything to attract his uncle’s ire… it was hard to even breath…
His Uncle’s boot slammed into his stomach a moment later and his face collided with the floor. Pain blossomed across his face and burned in his gut and he whimpered before he could stop himself.
“You should thank your Queen.” The gravelly voice sent thrills of fear down his spine. He did not know why he had to thank Queen Tyanna but he tried to all the same.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” he snivelled, realising his nose was bleeding when he tasted blood. Some part of him that still saw himself as a Prince was screaming at the humiliation. That bit of him could go hang. That bit of him would get him killed. So he lay on the floor and grovelled his thanks for whatever she had done.
A foot colliding with his back silenced him and he groaned without meaning to as his Uncle’s weight pushed the air from his lungs once more.
“My wife, it seems, cares more for you than your own mother.” The statement made him want to start crying again.
“Maegor,” purred Tyanna, finally speaking. He would hear that low, sultry voice with its foriegn inflections in his nightmares. “The poor boy has had a shock. Let him up? You! Get some water so that he may clean himself!”
Her empathy was false, he knew that. Queen Tyanna cared only for herself but he grovelled his thanks once more as his Uncle hauled him to his feet. He very nearly fell again but for the hand that clasped his shoulder tight.
Too tight, he wanted to whimper again.
“Get the shackles off him! Do you think him a threat to me!?” The guards hastened to obey their King. It was clear he was still barely keeping his temper by a hair's breadth and none wanted to be the target once he finally lost it.
His Uncle let him go once his limbs were free. Moments later, a cowed servant brought forth a washbasin of warm water and he cleaned himself as quickly as possible. He did not want to keep the King waiting. He did not know what game was being played.
A delicate hand removed the cloth from his own and he froze, staying as still as he could, not even daring to breathe.
“You have missed a spot,” she told him, breath ghosting over his ear. “Let me help you.”
She was gentle as she cleaned him but he did not let that fool him. He had seen what she did to his Uncle’s enemies… he had seen what was left of them on display as a warning… so had his Mother...
She left me to that fate.... How long could I have lasted under her care? How long would she have kept me in this world?
He tried to swallow back his tears, tried to hide them from the Queen but she clearly saw them because a finger rose to brush them away. He shivered at the contact. It felt wrong that this woman should play at being tender and kind.
“Fear not, little Prince,” she said softly. “You have a new mother now. One who will not sacrifice you for her favoured children.”
“Tyanna.” The tone was full of warning and the woman was quick to drop the washcloth into the basin and go to him. She looked thrilled as he wound his arms about her waist and pulled her close for a most indecent kiss.
He dropped his eyes to his shoes.
“A polite one! You have taught him well, my love!” Tyanna exclaimed after a long moment. His Uncle snorted and he fancied the ground might have shook as the King crossed to him, wrenching his head upward so their eyes could meet.
“Do you know what will happen next?” he asked and he tried to shake his head. Fingers clenching around his jaw painfully prevented him though as those terrible eyes bored into his. “Your whore Mother believes I will kill you. She believes she can push that snivelling child’s claim and take the Throne once more. Baratheon will ride with her… what’s left of the Faith too.”
The grip his Uncle had on his face was painful and brought more tears. Then, abruptly, he was released. His Uncle began pacing the rooms, building up that terrible rage once more.
“My Mother died! Died! She sheltered them, it was her mercy that sees you all still drawing breath!” He paused to take a gulp of air. “Yet my Mother, her saviour, was not even on her pyre before the whore stole my sword and fled to raise rebellion! I was merciful and this is how she repays me!?”
“T- Thank you for your mercy, Uncle,” he managed to say, voice stuttering only once. His Uncle stopped dead, breathing heavily.
From her perch by the bed, where he’d left her, Tyanna watched the King with a soft smile on her face. His Uncle gave him no time to wonder at what had just passed between them because he turned slowly to face him, his face an inscrutable mask.
He could not tell if he had done something wrong or not.
“Viserys,” came Tyanna’s voice, soft once again. “You must understand your Uncle’s anger. Alyssa Velaryon betrayed the mercy he showed her after your brother, Prince Aegon, rebelled.”
After Maegor had usurped his throne and then murdered him above the Gods Eye. He did not say that though, to say that was to invite punishment, to invite death… or worse. Instead, he nodded furiously, stamping down on the shame that brought.
“Aegon was a traitor.” Those were the words he’d been taught to say by his Mother back when she still cared for him. When had she decided she could sacrifice him? When had she decided Jae and Aly were more important?
“He was,” said his Uncle. “But he fought well. He wasn’t like his Father. Aenys would have pissed himself and hidden like the craven he was.”
He stared at his shoes, cursing his need to weep for his Father, Mother and Brother once more. His Uncle took his shoulder and forced him to look up once more. No anger, he thanked the Seven for that.
“You will return to your duties as my squire,” he said after a beat of silence had passed.
“Than-”
“I was not finished, boy!” barked his Uncle and fear strangled the rest of the platitude. “You will have new duties as well. You, boy, will be worthy of being my heir or you will die in the process.”
He couldn’t hide his shock and Tyanna collapsed into giggles at the sight of him. His Uncle’s face twisted in annoyance and the grip on his shoulder became ever tighter.
“You are five and ten. I was wedded and bedded by your age! A warrior in truth!” he sneered. “You have had an easy life! No more, I will not have a weakling like Aenys as my heir!”
“We will find you an adequate bride, do not worry,” said Tyanna and he did not like her cruel smile. “But you must become a warrior worthy of succeeding the King.”
“I will, I swear,” he said and meant it. To fail was to die. He did not want to die.
“Good,” said his Uncle. “Go.”
“Viserys?” He stopped dead as Tyanna called him. She was smiling that cruel smile again and he swallowed thickly at the sight of it.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Instruct the Castellan to prepare rooms for Princess Rhaena and her children.” His eyes widened in terror for his oldest sibling. Tyanna frowned and he bowed low to hide his feelings.
“Yes, Your Grace,” He left on trembling legs although he did not know if it was relief for himself or fear for his sister that had him so shaky.