After another day of tedious governance, Viserys returned to the courtyard. He hadn't even stepped through the hall doors when he heard Daenerys's voice.
"Come on! Your dragon can't possibly eat my elephant—it's all the way on the other side of the board…"
Even if he weren't a dream-walker like Daenerys, he could have guessed exactly what his sister was doing in her spare time.
Cyvasse.
As an exiled prince and a man who had already lived one full life, Viserys had always viewed the game with the tolerant eye of a battle-hardened commander.
Plenty of old-blood nobles actually believed cyvasse could train you for real war!
Any game with fixed rules could never prepare a man for the true chaos of the battlefield or the madness of leading armies.
The beautifully carved pieces always obeyed. They never betrayed you, never argued, and orders always reached them perfectly.
Both sides started with equal forces. The obsidian and crystal armies needed no supply trains. Commanders could see the entire field at a glance…
What could a green commander possibly learn from that?
Still, he had to admit the game was genuinely fun and exciting.
And at the very least, cyvasse gave Daenerys a few precious hours away from obsessing over the dragon eggs.
For that alone, he was grateful to the carved dragons and elegant elephants.
In the cool little hall, Viserys's gaze settled on the two women and the slave girl.
Daenerys was completely lost in the thrill of the match, sitting cross-legged on the bed and staring at the board like the fate of the world depended on it.
Sky-blue silk barely covered her; the sheer fabric left her breasts teasingly half-visible, shoulders and back almost completely bare.
Across from her, Lady Elyn wore a deep-green gown that covered her modestly, eyes bright with the same excitement but far more controlled.
That was the difference between a girl and a woman who had survived the Mad King's court.
A woman who had lived through that hell wasn't about to lose her temper over a few black dragons and toy elephants.
Finally, a black-haired slave girl in a thin chiton skirt moved quietly between them, serving wine.
Daenerys had pulled Naera from the bathing pools to be her personal handmaiden. Viserys had seen no reason to refuse his sister.
So the cheeky little thing now spent every day fluttering around Princess Daenerys—dressing her, doing her hair, serving meals, pouring wine, bathing her…
She did everything she could to please her mistress.
The fact that the silly girl hadn't been sent back to the pools yet proved she was handling the simple tasks well enough.
Naera spotted him first.
She set the wine jug down at once and dropped gracefully to her knees.
Her movement was the signal for the other two.
"My prince," the older woman said respectfully. "The princess invited me to keep her company tonight."
"I know, Lady Elyn."
"Brother, I thought…" Daenerys finally tore her eyes from the board. "You wouldn't be back for another two hours."
"I thought the same, but the harbor and warship inspection went smoother than expected…" As he spoke, Viserys couldn't help glancing at Elyn, who smiled back at him.
His sister was now mistress of the palace and no longer needed a governess or nanny.
That had inevitably sparked the ugliest rumors—something that could not be allowed.
But neither Viserys nor Daenerys had any intention of throwing their former wet nurse out onto the street.
Quite the opposite: Lady Elyn would live a peaceful, secure life as an honored guest of the Triarch.
She received a generous monthly stipend, a fine house outside the Black Wall, and her own private rooms inside the Targaryen palace.
Wealth, comfort, and the beauty she still maintained… time had been kind to Daenerys's wet nurse.
Just last month Elyn had married Ser Gerard Longsword, one of the youngest Black Knights.
The young Vale man had distinguished himself in the Volantis campaign. Handsome, well-mannered for an exiled sellsword.
If the singers' bawdy ballads were to be believed, the mountain lad's "long sword" wasn't just in his name…
But that particular singer loved dragging everything into the gutter.
Still, looking at Longsword, Viserys was inclined to believe the Royce family really had expelled Gerard from his father's tower on false charges of Targaryen sympathy rather than the knight inventing his own pedigree.
Entrusting Elyn to him had clearly been the right choice.
The lady clearly enjoyed the company of her young, handsome, courteous Westerosi knight, and Ser Gerard was ecstatic about his beautiful, clever, and wealthy wife.
The newlyweds glowed with happiness every single day.
One reason House Targaryen had fallen was stinginess with rewards.
The Mad King had made countless enemies and repaid his few remaining friends with nothing but contempt, suspicion, and sometimes fire.
But what people expected from a ruler was something else entirely.
Loyal service had to be generously rewarded if you wanted to keep men's hearts.
Only a very few honorable souls served purely for glory and ideals—and even they needed food, drink, clothes… and women!
People gladly followed the man who decided their fortune. It might be a cold truth, but it was the truth.
"If His Grace permits," Elyn said with a graceful curtsy, "I will take my leave and not disturb you…"
Viserys glanced at the cyvasse board between Daenerys and her former wet nurse.
Most of the pieces were already off the board; the game was clearly nearing its end.
Though Viserys didn't consider himself a cyvasse master, he had enough common sense and experience.
"No, Elyn. Finish the game."
He gestured for a chair.
Naera hurried over, nearly tripping in her eagerness as she brought it.
Viserys shook his head. "Pay me no mind. I'm happy to be a silent spectator."
His prediction was correct.
Before he arrived, Daenerys had already lost most of her major pieces, but under her brother's quiet gaze she seemed to come alive again.
No longer frantic, her moves grew more calculated.
Daenerys pulled off a brilliant combination—the one cyvasse masters called the "Dornish Trap."
It successfully removed Elyn's dragon from the board.
But it was only the ivory army's final swan song.
The former wet nurse cleared out the scattered infantry, destroyed the white catapults in her path, and finally…
"That's it."
Elyn mercilessly toppled the white king onto the board.
"Thank you for the lesson," Daenerys said, forcing a smile to hide her frustration. "But how did I lose? The position looked so good…"
"Your dragon killed beautifully, but by then your forces were already too depleted. No one left to capitalize on the advantage." The wet nurse nodded, satisfied, clearly still seeing the child she had raised as her own. "I suggest you play more cautiously. Rushing at the enemy doesn't always pay off. Reckless moves come at a high price."
"Dany!" Viserys nodded from the side, adding seriously, "And that advice isn't just for cyvasse."
Daenerys caught the hint and nodded happily. "Thank you, Elyn."
Lady Elyn Longsword rose from the bed.
"My prince, my princess." She curtsied elegantly. "I hope to see you both tomorrow."
"You will," Viserys answered, a touch regretful. "But I doubt we'll have time to talk… receiving the envoys will take hours, and you know how exhausting the local ceremonies are."
"Ah." Elyn shrugged. "No wonder those people have ruled for so long… eunuchs and their kind have all the time in the world to waste."
The woman left first. Then it was the slave girl's turn.
"Leave us."
But Viserys made the order clearer.
"Naera." She stopped at once. "Come to my chambers tonight. Wear that same chiton skirt."
"As you command, master."
Naera murmured helplessly.
"Now go."
No need to repeat. The sweet little thing was learning fast.
Viserys hadn't missed the look in Daenerys's violet eyes as she watched Naera leave.
Was she actually jealous of the silly girl over him?
If so, he had good news for her.
The priestess of the Temple of Meraxes had already agreed. The wedding date was set.
All that remained was to invite the bride to her own wedding.
"Receiving the envoys tomorrow is going to be exhausting," Viserys changed the subject. "So you'd better get a good night's sleep tonight."
"Don't worry, I sleep fine," Daenerys said with a sly little smile. "My bed doesn't need Naera to warm it anyway."
"Oh? Are you showing your claws at me?" Viserys asked, more curious than annoyed.
"No!" Daenerys corrected herself quickly. "I just meant I sleep perfectly well. Nothing else."
In his previous life, Viserys had always been a man who enjoyed the pleasures of the bed.
Every maester who had studied the records knew he had given his beloved Rhaena ten children—and that wasn't counting the others.
Noble ladies, washerwomen, adventuresses, city girls, landed knights' daughters, whores… they had all fallen for him.
In this life he had grown up in camps and barracks; knightly courtly love wasn't exactly celebrated.
But there were advantages to that environment. Doreah, for example—loyal, clever, perfectly content with her place and her master.
He and Daenerys would have to talk about this sooner or later.
Old Jaehaerys's faithfulness to Alysanne was admirable, but Viserys knew he could never live up to it.
His nature was different. He simply had to accept it.
They said the old Valyrian ways were free and open. Lys had been founded by Valyrians, after all.
Surely their ancient ancestors had been far more like him than like the mad Baelor.
Daenerys would understand.
"You might have reason to sleep poorly soon enough," Viserys decided to stop circling.
"I spoke with the priestess of the Temple of Meraxes. She has agreed to perform our wedding at the next full moon."
Those few short, calm, businesslike words carried astonishing power.
Every trace of jealousy, shyness, and frustration vanished from Daenerys's face in an instant.
"Viserys… brother, I…" Daenerys giggled like a little girl, the way she only did when she was overwhelmingly excited. "I… I don't know what to say."
"First," Viserys gave her an encouraging smile, "you can tell me whether you agree or not."
It was only a formality, but he genuinely wanted to hear her answer.
"I agree… I agree! Of course I agree!" Daenerys's excitement spilled over. "How could you even doubt it?"
"I never did." But Viserys wanted more; he decided to tease her a little. "Still… why so eager?"
Daenerys was silent for a moment, gathering all her courage.
"Hmm?"
"I…" Daenerys finally lifted her eyes and looked straight into his. It was a good start. "I love you."
She watched him hopefully, waiting for the same confession from his lips.
In truth, the prince was marrying Daenerys for far more than dynastic duty or ancestral tradition.
That was what Aerys the Second would have done—and they were still living with the disastrous results of that mistake.
No, their feelings were mutual.
He truly loved her.
In his previous life he had been happy with Rhaena… but in this one, Viserys felt so much more.
To Daenerys he was her only support, her only protector.
To him she was the anchor that kept him sane after his rebirth.
He had watched with delight as the lively little girl grew into a true Valyrian beauty—learned, well-read, strong-willed.
But Viserys had always preferred action over pretty words.
Reciting flowery poetry or singing elegant songs for the woman he loved—that was for other men.
His way was different.
He rose from the chair, pulled Daenerys into his arms, and they tumbled together onto the bed.
"I love you too."
The words were simple, but honest and open.
"Thank you…" Daenerys's reply was a little stammered, but just as sincere.
In his previous life Viserys had understood that love needed no complicated embellishments.
Sometimes saying it plainly was far better than wandering aimlessly down forest paths.
"Seven hells!" Daenerys suddenly exclaimed softly.
"What is it?"
"I wish… I wish everything could be more perfect! The way it should be."
The decisive beauty clearly wasn't skilled at matters of the heart yet, but some things could only be learned through experience. "I even started writing vows for you. I only just began today…"
"May I see?" Viserys reached up and gently stroked her silver hair.
"It's only the beginning."
It seemed he still had much to teach her—and this wouldn't be the first time. "I was going to finish it after the game."
"Don't be afraid, and don't worry needlessly."
For the first time that night Viserys kissed his sister, clearly feeling the warmth radiating from her body.
"Everything will go smoothly. At the next full moon we will be lawfully wedded. Our union will have the blessing of our ancestors' gods."
"Ancestors?"
"Yes."
Viserys himself had never been particularly pious in either life.
He prayed to the Warrior now and then, attended religious festivals—that was all.
A few days earlier he had spoken with the Keeper of the Foundation about marriage customs inside the Black Wall. The old man had told him one small rule of the old-blood nobles.
Only marriages performed according to ancient custom, ritual, and the faith of the Freehold were considered legitimate.
Everything else was merely cohabitation—neither sin nor crime—but any children born of such a union had no claim to true Valyrian blood status.
Naturally the world expected the Triarchs to show special respect for the old ways; after all, they were supposed to be its guardians.
That was why Viserys had gone to the priestess of Meraxes.
He needed a flawless ceremony so that even the most stubborn elephant-party nobles could find no fault.
Only one thing still worried the prince.
If one day he returned to Westeros, how would such a marriage be viewed?
When Aegon the Conqueror landed, the lords and septons had been furious but powerless.
Even Maegor the Cruel, with dragons and swords at his side, had not escaped condemnation…
But if the news from across the sea was true, the current rulers of the Seven Kingdoms had already gone completely mad.
A king stabbed in broad daylight by his own squire and kin.
A lord and former Hand executed on the steps of the Great Sept after confessing.
Kingsguard expelled from their brotherhood…
Perhaps when he returned, people would be more tolerant of the old customs?
But those thoughts were distant and meaningless right now.
Westeros was far away. The old blood was close at hand. Best to handle the present step by step.
"At that time you will officially become the Triarch's lawful wife." Viserys turned to practical matters. "If I ever have to leave this city…"
"I will rule in your name," Daenerys finished for him. "I've read the records. During the Century of Blood the wives of the tiger lords governed the city while their husbands were away."
"That was long ago, but the elephant party never forbade the custom. It simply fell out of use. Now it serves us perfectly."
Viserys looked at her, his tone grave. "If I must leave the Black Wall, Dany, you will keep Volantis in order. Renigar will help as much as he can, but the final decisions must be yours."
"But where would you go?"
"We may know tomorrow. I hope it won't be necessary."
He didn't want to mention the dark premonition. Tonight Viserys only wanted a moment of peace. "For now… let's rest. Talk about more pleasant things."
The night would give their bodies rest, ready for every trial to come.