For the next stretch of time Viserys spent most of his days inside a heavily guarded compound within the stronghold. It served both secrecy and the desire to stay close to family while handling matters only he could decide.
Ser Willem worked fast; within three days he had already shortlisted the first five hundred names.
Most were old retainers from the Dragonstone days who had stayed loyal to House Targaryen, or warriors and craftsmen whose devotion was absolute. Their families had been quietly told to stand ready for relocation at any moment.
"Your Grace, regarding the ships," Ser Willem reported, "I have placed orders for five medium-sized merchant vessels at three separate yards, under the pretext of 'expanding trade.' They look ordinary, but I specified reinforced keels and hulls so they can be converted to warships if need be. Two will be delivered in ten days, the remaining three in about twenty."
"Good." Viserys nodded. "And the supplies?"
"Being procured in batches, all through different trading houses under the guise of normal commerce. To avoid suspicion each lot is small, but together they will feed five hundred for half a year." Ser Willem paused. "Still, Your Grace, a build-up on this scale, however scattered, will draw notice if it drags on too long."
"Then we have one month." Viserys spoke calmly. "After that the first group sails. The stronghold may then show 'flagging morale,' even let rumors spread that Targaryen supporters are drifting away."
Ser Willem understood. "I shall stage a few 'disappointed departures' and let men from the Iron Bank 'overhear' complaints that our coffers are running dry."
"Exactly." Viserys gave an approving smile.
Inside the stronghold, life remained quiet.
Daenerys and Rhaenys spent their days learning letters and courtly manners with Ashara, or playing in the courtyard under the watch of Ser Jonothor Darry.
For Viserys, the greatest comfort in this period was his steadily warming bond with Ashara.
Since that night, an invisible barrier had crumbled for good.
By day she was still the composed Lady of Starfall, but when darkness fell—whether he slipped into her chamber or she stole into his—reserve melted into fierce hunger.
At first they were tentative, tasting forbidden fruit with cautious care.
Ashara's body needed time to adjust; Viserys was gentle. Soon, however, raw instinct took over as their rhythm grew sure.
That afternoon Viserys had just finalized with Ser Willem the roster of the first evacuees and the allocation of supplies.
After seeing the Old Knight out, he returned to his study and found Ashara on the window-settee, turning the pages of a book bought in Braavos.
She wore a light gown, her long hair pinned up to reveal the elegant curve of her neck. Sunlight streamed through the window, making the scene as serene as a painting.
Viserys shut the door and, leaning against the frame, watched for a moment before walking over. Sensing him, Ashara lifted her head, soft violet eyes smiling.
"Finished?"
"Mm." He sat beside her and naturally drew her into his arms. "What are you reading?"
"Poems by Braavosi bards—of the sea and exile." She closed the book, resting against his chest to feel his heartbeat. "They're very sad."
"Don't worry. Valyria will be our home," Viserys murmured, toying with a lock of her black hair. "A safe, lasting home. I'll build you a sea-view tower where you can read or watch the sunrise and sunset."
Ashara gave a soft assent, pressing closer. Such concrete dreams of the future soothed her.
After a quiet spell his hand began to wander, sliding slowly along her arm, fingertips grazing the delicate skin at her waist.
Her ears reddened; she caught his roving hand. "Stop that, it's still daylight."
"What of it?" he chuckled, feeling her tremble. "No one will disturb us."
Even as he spoke his other hand slipped beneath the hem of her gown.
Ashara's breath hitched. She tried to protest, but he bent to kiss her; her resistance melted as she wound her arms round his neck and answered clumsily yet eagerly.
Just as passion flared, brisk footsteps sounded outside.
"Brother Viserys, are you there? I learned a new song today and want to sing it for you."
It was Daenerys.
They froze. Ashara shoved Viserys away, hastily smoothing her gown, cheeks crimson with mortification.
Viserys sprang up, straightening his own disheveled clothes.
"I'm here, Dany. Wait a moment; I'll open the door." He glanced at Ashara to stay quiet, then went to the door.
It opened to reveal little Daenerys in a yellow dress, face upturned and eyes bright with expectation.
Beside her stood Rhaenys, half a head taller in a blue gown, quieter but equally eager to see him.
"Brother!" Daenerys chirped, trying to dart inside.
Viserys blocked the doorway, ruffling her hair. "Your Brother and Lady Ashara are discussing important matters. I'm sure your song is lovely, but save it for tonight, all right? For now, go play with Rhaenys in the garden or see what sweets the cooks have prepared."
Daenerys pouted but nodded obediently. "All right—promise you'll remember tonight, Brother."
"I promise." He looked to Rhaenys. "Take Dany to play, would you?"
Rhaenys agreed sweetly, took Daenerys's hand and said, "Come, Dany, I noticed new buds on the blue roses in the corner of the garden. Let's go see."
Watching the pair walk off hand-in-hand, Viserys exhaled in relief, shut the door and turned back to Ashara.
She had straightened her dress and stood with her back to him pretending to read, though her burning ears betrayed her mood.
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