Our Bitter Lullaby [Dany&Viserys, 1/1]
Title: Our Bitter Lullaby.
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire (ASOIAF).
Pairing(s): Viserys/Daenerys AU, if he slept with her before contracting her to Drogo.
Rating: PG-13.
Word Count: 814.
Warnings: Incest.
Disclaimer: I do not own ASOIAF, or any of its characters. :)
When he comes to her she does not know what to expect.
She is young, then; twelve, not yet a woman but not still a girl. His eyes are dark and she swears she can see the dragon in them. It frightens her but she reminds herself she is the blood of the dragon too and wills herself not to tremble.
He is gentle with her at first, brushing her iridescent white hair to the side of her face and kissing up her neck before he reaches her lips. It is not passionate but it is tender, and she is able to breathe easier when he strips his clothes off too and they are naked together. Daenerys does not linger her eyes on her brother's body; she is too absorbed by his face, by the quiet determination that colors it. She has never seen him this focused or intent and in a queer way it excites her.
"This is the way of our family," she says softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Does this mean I am to be your wife, Viserys?" There is a part of her that desperately wants him to say yes. He is everything she has ever known and there is a safety in him that she feels she will never find elsewhere. She can see him sitting on the Iron Throne now; she by his side, their beautiful white-haired children by hers. Daenerys closes her eyes and inhabits this fantasy. Together they will take back their home and together they will rule it, as it should be.
But he does not answer her, only runs his hand over her mouth as a signal for her to stop speaking. She obliges. She knows this is a sacred ritual for those of the dragon's blood and her brother does not want her voice to spoil it.
Her heart beats rapidly and she grows nervous as his mouth seeks her tiny breasts. She hopes they will satisfy him, for they are smaller than those of his favorite whores. She cannot help but find it curious that he sucks at them, for it is a maternal gesture, but she likes it all the same. It gives her the feeling that she is providing, she is useful, she is pleasing him.
When he enters her, she lets out a wild gasp even though she knows he prefers her silent. She closes her eyes and bites down hard on her mouth and thinks about being his queen, anything to distract herself. She imagines they will have handsome sons and beautiful daughters, named after their ancestors. She will honor the Targaryen bloodline--this much she has known since she was quite small. Her destiny belongs to Viserys and she is glad for it, for without him she is nothing.
When it is over he lays beside her breathing heavily. She looks at him and wonders if it is alright for her to speak now, to ask him if he would like anything. As a way of asking permission, she reaches for his brow and pushes back his fringe of white hair. She sees his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile for a moment and she feels a fluttering within her. She has made him happy.
"I would like to be your wife, Viserys," she finally whispers, though he is still wordless. She thinks he must be asleep, so she covers him with sheets and plants a sweet kiss on his forehead. When he sleeps he is most like a little boy. She likes to watch his chest rise and fall and imagine they are both children again. But they are not. In a way they never truly were. They are the last of their line and it is their duty to ensure it does not remain so.
Daenerys looks at her pale wrist and espies a thick blue vein. She likes to remind herself of her own power, of the power belonging to her family, of the power she will share with Viserys when they are joined together for eternity. He has told her hundreds of tales about her lineage and each one has filled her with wonder and pride. Now she lies on her bed and stares above her, enthralled by the energy of her forefathers. She feels that she will make a good queen and Viserys a good king.
In her heart she knows her ancestors are planning their future, and it will be a bright one. Bright as the hair on her head. Bright as the purple in her eyes. Bright as the dragon's blood flowing in her veins.
She does not know that her ancestors are not planning her future, nor that her future never belonged to them.
So she is content to place her hands on her belly and dream of the day she and her brother will rule.