Disclaimer: I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire, the Game of Throne or the Star Wars books, TV series or games. They belong to their creators, publishers and/or copyright owners. This story is not for sale or rent.
Prologue: A Sith Reborn
=Sith=
In one universe, a Sith racing to rescue his niece was just a moment too slow. A trap sealed shut, a city district burned under orbital fire. The Clone Wars didn't end in their fifth year like they desperately had to.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, consort to Empress Satine Kenobi, nee Kryze, fell when he sensed his daughter's death. The war went on, and the galaxy burned.
Far, far away, in a distant universe, a young brother trudged through a desert, carrying on his back his even younger sister. They were the last scions of House Targaryen, exiles destined for madness and infamy, but only if they survived their perilous flight between the Free Cities of Essos.
Viserys Targaryen collapsed under a scorching sun while a small group of slavers cantered behind him. All it took to doom them was an innocent miscalculation that had him and Daenerys Stormborn join a caravan destined for destruction. That mistake doomed them to a short flight through a desert, followed by a fate worse than death.
A moment later, Viserys rose, awoken by his sister's scream.
A Sith and his niece died. A Sith and his little sister rose, changing Planetos fate forever.
=Sith=
290 AC
Essos
He fell and his mind exploded, overwhelmed by memories not his own. He drowned in fury and an indescribable sense of failure while the Force raged all around him.
Viserys awoke to Dany screaming. The Force surged around him. If flowed through him like a raging river, feeding from Viserys' fear for his little sister. He could sense people and animals rapidly approaching long before his tired eyes could properly focus through scorching sun rays.
Danger, the Force whispered. Dany whimpered beside him, and her terror fed into Viserys' rage. He didn't have to think to draw on the Force and drink from the Dark Side like a man dying of thirst in the desert.
The Viserys Targaryen, who rose to face eight slavers coming at him on horseback, was a very different beast from the boy who collapsed mere moments ago. His eyes glowed like embers in the night, bright enough even in the desert at high noon. As the obvious enemy approached, he simply raised his hands and unleashed all the fear and rage that threatened to consume him.
Purple lighting erupted from Viserys' outstretched fingers to strike men and horses alike. People flew from their mounts. Horses screamed like damned souls tortured in the Seven Hells. Viserys found himself kneeling, gulping deep breaths of hot, dry air. The Force was all around him, freely flowing through him, yet his body wasn't accustomed to channeling so much of its power so fast. Nevertheless, when he raised his head, Viserys could see a couple of panicked horses stumbling away while the rest were still writhing in pain on the sand. The same was true for their riders, save for a couple of them lying on the ground deadly still.
Viserys could sense that most of the slavers were still alive if incapacitated for now. That simply wouldn't do. He got up on unsteady feet and stumbled forward, reinforcing his weary body with the Force. The first man he reached wore boiled leather armor barely visible under layers of cloth meant to protect him from the sun. His garb did nothing to shield him from Sith Lightning. Viserys could sense the taint of the Dark Side in the man, further weakening and torturing him. His eyes scanned for weapons, focusing on a curved saber in a scabbard and two knives in sheathes on the belt.
The man stirred with a groan, earning himself a point-blank telekinetic shove that sent ripples through the sand he laid upon. Ribs cracked, and the unfortunate bastard spat crimson drops of blood. Viserys found that he didn't have to lean much to grab and unsheathe one of the knives. He spent a moment evaluating a slightly curved, nicely sharp blade, then slammed it into its owner's neck and twisted, widening the wound.
The exiled Prince put the other slavers out of his misery before they could recover. He had to use the Force to further incapacitate only two of them; the rest were still too dazzled from the fall or the Lightning to offer any semblance of resistance. With the immediate threat gone, Viserys focused on the fried horses. Only one of them managed to get up, and it was still twitching and whining miserably. The rest were still lying on the sand, suffering from the Dark Side ravaging their bodies.
Finally, Viserys took stock of his situation and thought about what the kriff happened. He could clearly remember his failure, then awakening here, in danger. He could remember everything, from his youth as a prince, to his mother's death in childbirth, to their damned exile. At the same time, he could remember a long lifetime as a Sith.
Viserys examined himself, noticing that his body was too damn thin. He could see that he was little more than skin and bones. A single glance at Dany's form – curled on the sand as she was, infuriated him. She was supposed to be almost eleven now, yet she was a tiny thing, far too petite and skinny for a girl her age. More importantly, there was no mistaking her presence in the Force; it was that of his niece he just failed, which should have been impossible. Just like the rest of his situation…. He would have thought he was dead or that the Dark Side finally drove him insane if he hadn't found himself in similar situations before. After all, this wasn't the first time he had ended up in another world, in someone else's body, and with their memories.
At least he had the Force. Otherwise, they both would be kriffed.
First things first, deal with the immediate problems, then focus on medium to long-term issues, Viserys decided as his training and experience kicked in.
Instead of killing them with his knife or letting them be, Viserys knelt by each of the crippled beasts and put a hand on their side. He drew on the Force and drained their life force until only mummified husks remained. All that energy revitalized him, making Viserys feel better than he could ever remember being. He hurried to Dany's side, gently put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed all the excess energy into her. This would do nothing to really fix the malnourished they both suffered from. However, the life energy would keep them operational and strong for now.
Dany relaxed in Viserys' hands. He used the Force to put her into a light slumber and returned to the slaughtered slavers. The exile slowly approached the remaining horse, calming with his powers. The animal relaxed, though it still shook from the Sith Lighting that struck it. Viserys coaxed it to approach and grabbed its reins before guiding it to one of the corpses and tying it to it to keep it from bolting. After that, he inspected his kills for anything useful – water, food, weapons, and money. Viserys looted it all and loaded the horse with all the loot he thought it could carry. He found a lot of different coins, though he had no idea how valuable most of them were. The Braavosi and Pentosi money was enough to see them live comfortably for at least a few months, if not longer. If the other coins were of similar value, they had a nice nest egg to work with.
Unsurprisingly, slavery paid well. At that thought, Viserys looked at the trail in the desert leading back to the old Valyrian Dragon Road, where the slavers came from, chasing them. A larger group was dealing with the caravan he unwisely picked to get them to Pentos.
The safe option was to pick up Dany and get away. However, taking out the rest of the slavers would ensure they were in a much better position for the future. While going for it was very dangerous and likely stupid, Viserys simply wasn't familiar enough with the region to blindly go into the desert, especially when he had a little girl with him. They had to get back to the road sooner rather than later, and then, the odds of running into the slavers anyway were too high for comfort. On the other hand, he needed time to straighten up his head, rest, and figure out what the hell he was supposed to do to keep Dany safe.
=Sith=
Chapter 1 Part 1
=Sith=
290 AC
The Flatlands
Essos
Viserys mounted the horse, making himself comfortable on the saddle. He used the Force to levitate Dany, who was still slumbering, so he could put her in front of him. He guided his mount vaguely towards the Dragon Road at an angle so his sister couldn't see the dead men and horses when she awoke and sent it trotting forward. The reincarnated Sith finally had some time to ponder the newest utter mess he ended up in, and he was anything but thrilled.
Failure tasted like bitter ashes in his mouth. Yet, despite all odds, he could sense his niece's comforting Force signature in the slip of a girl slumbering in his hands. However, despite what his mind was trying to claim, there was little left of who Viserys was in his head – a consequence of lifetimes of memories being shoved in the head of a youth with no mental defenses to speak of. Sadly, or fortunately, depending on how one might look at it, he knew that Dany's situation would be the reverse. His niece was a toddler with no training in the Force or the time to develop a firm personality. No matter how tiny, Dany was just shy of eleven years old. The odds were excellent that all she recalled of their previous existence would be odd dreams, perhaps a nightmare or two on account of the kidnapping and the trap that got them killed.
Without thinking, Viserys arm brushed through Dany's unkept hair in a familiar, comforting motion. For her sake, he had to be Viserys Targaryen, the best brother anyone could ask for. She was all he had left in this world, and the reverse was true. Besides, saying the truth aloud to anyone was liable to paint him as mad, perhaps both of them. He had to be Viserys now, and he was, for most intents and purposes, that mattered in this world. It was disturbingly easy to slip into thinking of himself that way, easier than the last time for sure.
The situation's silver lining was that he didn't feel an existential crisis, much less had to use the Dark Side to deal with it. That left the new and improved Viserys to ponder their current situation. He vaguely regarded reading of this world in books long ago. The details he could recall were few and far between. Viserys wasn't sure how much he remembered from reading and how much his new memories filled in the blanks.
The few relevant facts rattling through his head were not heartening. This damned place had an undead problem, which was determined to make itself everyone's issue in a few decades. That by itself made the idea of vanishing in obscurity and leaving a more or less peaceful life a no-go.
Dany was supposed to hatch dragons and play a key role in saving the damn place. A single miscalculation would have gotten both of them killed before a Sith ended up stuck in Viserys, with disastrous results for this world. That kind of explained why someone or something intervened, throwing a Sith at the problem. Then, there was the issue with the two of them being exiles and contenders for a usurped throne held by someone with a pathological hatred for their family. Under other circumstances, Viserys would have appreciated the kind of spiteful grudge held by Baratheon.
Unsurprisingly, the exiled Prince didn't feel charitable at all. A pang of fear stirred in his heart at the thought of hired knives coming for him and Dany in the night before fiery anger drowned it.
They needed a safe place to stay, a secure base of operations where Viserys could properly raise and train Dany so she could defend herself at the very least. He needed to get people he could trust with Dany's life, which was a tall order or would have been without the Force. Cheating with it would make things easier in all regards.
Ensuring Dany's security and comfort was their most crucial short-term goal. Once that was done, Viserys could afford to plan for the future.
Dany's rumbling stomach focused his attention on the tiny girl he held like a lifeline. Viserys could feel her ribs through her thin, dirty dress, reinforcing the fact that she was skin and bones, which in turn fed his simmering anger. People were going to die screaming for causing this. But bloody vengeance could wait. Besides, it was best savored cold and carefully crafted.
Viserys gently removed the veil of the Force, keeping Dany slumbering. He brushed his awareness over the surface of her awakening mind, sending her a wave of reassurance.
"We are safe now, Dany. It is all right," Viserys crooned and ruffed his sister's hair.
"Vis? I had a bad dream. I dreamed of a strange place and people. I was scared, Vis!" Dany squirmed in his hold and pushed her back into his chest, seeking comfort. Now that she was awake, there was no mistaking the unconditional trust and love she held for her brother. They blazed like war, soothing suns, stirring Viserys cold heart.
"It was just a nightmare, little dragon. I won't let anyone hurt you again," Viserys vowed.
The exiled Prince used telekinesis to summon a waterskin and offered it to Dany. She perked up and greedily grabbed it, drinking her fill, uncaring that she was spilling water all over her dusty dress. Viserys could feel his sister's relief as warm water soothed her parched throat. When Dany was done, he pulled the waterskin to his lips and drank as well. The water was unpleasantly warm and stale, yet it was just what the doctor prescribed.
Viserys put the waterskin away and retrieved what passed for food rations among the slavers. Stale hard bread, harder cheese, and stone-like jerky of dubious origins. These days, this was almost a proper feast for the two of them. The food made the worst MREs he had to endure in his long lifetime as a Sith look like gourmet meals made in the best restaurants in the galaxy. How Dany attacked the meager food with a gusto was telling and infuriating. In the past few years, more often than not, they had to get by with less.
"Eat slowly, little dragon, or you can make yourself sick. No one will steal this food from us," Viserys promised.
Dany stiffened at the reminder, and a wave of fear and hunger washed over the Sith. He grits his teeth, promising bloody vengeance to all who wronged them. Fortunately, Dany proceeded to relax and happily munch on her food. Viserys tore a bite of bread and cheese with the Force and ate as well, wincing at how hard and tasteless the damn things were.
They were still slowly eating when the Dragon Road appeared behind a sand dune. Their horse slowly trotted down its slope, and as soon as they reached the road, Viserys guided it left, back in the direction of Pentos. It wasn't long before the exiles rode around a bend in the road, revealing their caravan's remains. The sight of upturned wagons and slaughtered guards greeted them. Here and there, Viserys saw the odd merchant or traveler struck down where they tried to flee or fight. To the side laid bodies that had been obviously from the slavers – they had stripped them of anything valuable and let them rot.
Slavery was technically illegal in Pentos, and bringing people who recently left as slaves wasn't a good idea for any enterprising slaver. The city guard and notables wouldn't appreciate such attacks on trade caravans. Such things were bad for business, even if the caravan in question was owned by rivals. At least, that was how sane people should act.
In this damned world, Viserys wasn't ready to bet on sanity prevailing.
They rode through the ravaged remains of the caravan while Viserys did his best to shield Dany from the sight. They had the provision to get back to the city comfortably, especially when riding. That and Viserys' desire to spare his sister from as much horror as possible, for as long as possible, meant that they didn't stop so he could see if the raiders missed anything valuable.
Dany dozed off soon after they left the caravan behind, allowing Viserys to entirely focus on plotting what to do after they returned to Pentos.
=Sith=
Chapter 1 Part 2
=Sith=
290 AC
The Flatlands
Essos
By Viserys' estimation, they were about a two-day ride away from Pentos, though he wasn't as sure as he would have liked. He had to ride beasts a few times in his life as a Sith before. Still, those tended to be faster, and usually, he had a much better awareness of the geography in question. In this life, his training was mostly what he had picked up by himself and what little Ser Darry could teach him as a youth before the man passed away. Frankly, it bordered on a direct divine intervention that Viserys had survived intact as long as he did, especially with Dany to care for. He knew that when you had to keep someone safe, their capabilities would significantly impact your survival, especially if there were only two of you. Dany was a little girl who, due to malnutrition, was smaller and weaker for her age than she should have been. Viserys didn't know how to do it right, much less even think of training her to survive by herself, though to his credit, he did a better job keeping her safe than he should have been able to.
Nevertheless, yesterday demonstrated that a single mistake could and would be deadly… and everyone made mistakes. Everyone's luck eventually ran out. That was what contingency planning and reliable allies were for.
It wasn't hard to figure out that going around claiming you were a reincarnated sorcerer-warlord would be a bad idea. Still, for all intents and purposes that mattered, that was what Viserys was now, and Dany had the potential to be one. She needed to be a sane Sith to protect herself because no matter how hard Viserys tried, he couldn't be beside her all day, every day. They needed a plausible explanation about what they could suddenly do.
At the same time, the little Viserys could recall of this world, and his own memories pointed at his father being totally insane. Even with magical powers, he would have to be careful how he acted and presented himself because the only thing worse for most people than a sorcerer warlord would be an insane one. Claiming a divine intervention might not be a good idea. On the other hand, they were Targaryen. There was supposed to be magic in their blood, and it wasn't like for most the Force was anything but magic.
Viserys smiled at that thought. Valyrian blood magic coming alive to prevent their line's extinction. That might be the only plausible thing he could use because people would wonder and want answers, especially anyone who might be willing to be an ally. People would be asking questions of Dany at any opportunity, and it wasn't like she could be a good liar anytime soon.
Sometime later, Dany stirred, slowly coming awake. She squirmed in his hold, trying to get comfortable. Her tattered dress wasn't meant for riding, and it wasn't like the saddle was designed to hold two people, no matter how thin. By the time they got to Pentos, Dany might very well need a healer for sunburns and skin rubbed raw.
"Little Dragon, our ancestors saved us yesterday, and they gave us the tools to survive," Viserys told his sister when he was sure she was fully awake. She did her best to twist in her hold so she could look up at him with her huge purple eyes.
"The magic in our blood is awake. I will teach you how to use it, sweet sister," Viserys promised.
"Magic?"
Viserys telekinetically summoned a piece of jerky from one of the saddle bags and had it float before Dany's eyes. She stared at it in pure childish wonder. Her face scrunched in an expression of clear determination before Dany poked it with an index finger, sending it tumbling in the air.
"Magic," Viserys confirmed. "Close your eyes and just feel. Tell me what you sense, Little Dragon."
Viserys drew on the Force and let it freely flow through him, so its raw energy spilled all around him. It engulfed them, including the horse, which whined happily and cantered forward, rejuvenated.
"It's warm and cold?" Dany asked in confusion. "It doesn't burn like the sun…"
"Feel it. Let it flow through you," Viserys ordered.
For better or worse, he cares too much to train Dany like a proper Sith. At the same time, they didn't have the luxury of going the Jedi way. Ultimately, it was a good thing; he had picked up a few things from Obi-Wan and a few other Jedi.
Viserys could sense Dany's clear joy at the new sensations and kept channeling the Force. The more exposure his body had to it, the more he used it without burning out, and the better it would adjust to the strain of channeling such power. That would continue until his flesh reached its limit of how much it could adapt.
Exposure, so to speak, was one of the three factors governing a person's power with the Force. Natural aptitude mattered very much, obviously. However, training to handle more of the Force was vital, with knowledge being the final factor and the one that took the longest to refine. Viserys wouldn't be as powerful in this body as he used to be; that much was trivial to figure out. However, that wasn't saying much, considering the kind of threats he was likely to face in this world. Even as a pale shadow of what he used to be, he could still become one of the deadliest, if not the most lethal, creatures on Planetos, with only Dany being his rival, as it should be.
The trick was surviving long enough.
Considering that they were on the road, exposed, and always in potential danger, Viserys didn't dare channel the force until he strained himself. Getting anywhere near such a state would be gross incompetence and complete idiocy. Instead, he did use the Force for a few minutes at a time, simply drawing on it and letting it spill around him so Dany could feel it. After each such preparatory session, he pulled out one of the daggers he retrieved from the slavers and put it in his sister's hand.
"Self-defense lessons, the absolute basics, Dany. It will take time before you are ready to take on even a starving street thug, much less anyone more dangerous," Viserys patiently explained. Dany shuddered at the reminder. They had to run from such thugs many times and lost food and whatever money they had scavenged to get away. "If you are alone and there is any kind of threat, you should run if possible. If I tell you to run, you run without thinking about doing anything else. Am I clear?" Viserys demanded.
"I will, Vis! I will always listen to you!" Dany promised, and she meant it. Still, she was eleven. Believing that she would do something and actually doing it if push came to shove were two different things.
"I am glad we are clear on that point. However, running might not always be an option, and that is why I will train you to keep yourself safe."
"You will always keep me safe!" Dany's utter conviction was more than enough to warm his cold heart.
"I will certainly do my best. Which is why I will train you," Viserys soothingly rubbed the back of Dany's hand with his thumb while keeping a firm yet gentle hold on it due to the dagger he gave her. "The basics of using a dagger and many other weapons is simple. Stick them with the pointy end."
Viserys demonstrated by carefully guiding Dany's hand into a stabbing motion. Their position on the back of a horse wasn't ideal for such training, but there was no point in wasting any more time. Keeping Dany alive and intact came first. Ensuring her and his education on all relevant things they needed to know about this world could have to wait a bit.
Dany spent hours slowly practicing a few simple stabbing or slashing strikes, with Viserys keeping a firm hold of her hands, guiding them to get the most out of her petite frame before she tired enough to take a nap. Her brother sheathed the knife, took a sip of water, and let his mind drift toward everything he could recall about the people in Pentos. Viserys knew precisely what they would be doing after reaching the city – a visit to the market and bank to sell loot and exchange coins for money they could use. Next, they would visit a healer and hit a respectable inn for food, a bath, and a reasonably safe roof over their heads. The question was, what would they be doing after that?
If Viserys was alone, he might have hit the local criminal element and tried taking over. That was still an option, but to even think about it, he needed a safe place and guards for Dany. So the question was how could he get those. Mercenaries were out of the question at this time. Even if his coin was good, people would be willing to pay more for their deaths than he could pay for the mercs to keep them alive. While there might be mercenaries who wouldn't betray a contract for more coin, he wasn't about to trust anyone with Dany's wellbeing, even if he could cheat with the Force.
It wasn't like he could buy or make himself a combat droid, nor did he have access to indoctrinated Clones… There was nothing like that in this world, was there…. A mostly forgotten memory stirred in Viserys' head. He could vaguely recall men in black leather armor, armed with spears and carrying odd shields.
Slave soldiers. The best soldiers on the continent. The Unsullied. Weren't they supposed to obey without question? Could he trust their kind if he could get his hands on them? How could he find out for sure? Those questions would plague Viserys until they reached Pentos at sunset the following day.
=Sith=
Chapter 1 Part 3
=Sith=
290 AC
Pentos
Essos
It was good to be somewhere resembling civilization. To be fair, Viserys could recall whole worlds that couldn't boast a single city as advanced as Pentos, yet at the same time, it was virtually nothing compared to what he now considered the height of civilization. Planetos couldn't hope to achieve that even if he lived a thousand years doing his best to uplift the place.
Fortunately, Viserys' goals were nowhere that lofty. A bit of good old-fashioned mind-fuckery was enough to get them through the gates without the guards paying them any attention. From that point on, Viserys made sure to keep a hold of the Force just in case, at least until they were in the relative safety of the local bank or a good inn.
Considering that they arrived at sunset, their original plan needed a bit of alternation – the market would surely be open. However, the same couldn't be said for the bank when they arrived so late. If they were essential clients, things might be different, but things were sure to be less convenient for someone who merely wanted to exchange a bit of coin. Viserys decided it would be best to diversify himself of the loot at the market, get something resembling clean clothes, and head for an inn.
As they rode through the streets, Viserys was glad that Dany could, for once, afford to be a little kid and look around without worrying about their next meal or a safe place to sleep. It helped that the path that took them to the main market wasn't packed at this hour. They rode by various buildings made of red bricks and covered with red tiles. The locals indeed loved the color, or perhaps those were the affordable materials when the place was originally built, and the rulers of the place wanted to preserve its character. Viserys couldn't recall ever learning that particular bit of history.
When they reached the market, the place was busier than expected. Loud haggling and offended cries in various languages, primarily Bastard Valyrians, reminded him that haggling was the game of the day here. The places where you could reasonably buy things for a stable price, where people wouldn't deem you a fool for not haggling, were few and far between in this day and age… and that was a very good thing.
A few questions to a nearby merchant bellowing that he sold the best pots in the city led Viserys to the far corner of the market. That place resembled something that stirred his vague memories of the Street of Steel in King's Landing. Viserys could barely recall Rhaegar showing him the place a few months before the damned Tourney at Harrendal. There was enough left of the boy to feel a pang of loss, regret, and not a little bit of rage when recalling his murdered brother. The less said about Rhaegar's stupidity, the better.
Finding blacksmiths with shops selling all kinds of weapons and armor was easy. Finding one willing to actually buy the blades Viserys looted proved a bit of a headache. More than a few Apprentices and shopkeepers weren't interested in blades of potentially dubious quality. They had a reputation to maintain, you see. While that was fair enough, it didn't make Viserys feel any happier. After the fourth shopkeeper declined to buy his loot, his temper was frying already.
"Do you at least know who might buy those blades!?" Viserys snapped at a short, portly man.
"Malek, over there, if he hasn't gone drinking already!" the merchant pointed over Viserys' shoulder. At that, the exiled Prince cursed himself as an imbecile for not asking the first Apprentice who refused to buy his loot, thus wasting time. He should know better than that!
Viserys heard Dany's stomach grumble on the way to Malek, though she said nothing. It had been long since it mattered if they were hungry, thirsty, cold, or hot, for often enough, there was nothing to do but endure. That Dany didn't even bother saying she was hungry pained Viserys and fed his simmering rage at everything they had been through. He couldn't have kept himself from going on a rampage if he had been a different Sith. Instead, his anger burned cold.
"We'll get something to eat soon, Little Dragon. I don't trust the food peddlers around," Viserys admitted. If their food was spoiled in any way, he would be all right. Dany, not so much, and that was to be avoided.
They got to Malek just as the man was closing shop for the night. The Merchant was a large, dark-skinned man with arms like tree trunks. It was apparent he had endured hard work, or perhaps harder training, though it was clear he had let himself go a bit as of late. Malek's face was covered in scars, hinting at a career as a mercenary before possible retirement as a merchant.
"I have some blades for sale," Viserys went straight to the point.
Malek sighed deeply but waved him to dismount.
"Let it never be said I've let an opportunity go," the merchant rumbled in a deep, gravel-like voice. It might have been too much time in the desert or too much time screaming orders on the battlefield, but his throat was apparently worse for wear.
"Hold on tight, Dany," Viserys told his sister. He slid off the saddle before pulling her back to sit on it and steadying her hands on the horse's reins. The Prince retrieved the looted blades in their scabbards and put them on the half-emptied merchant stall.
"Where did you get these?" Malek rasped, proving his throat had been messed up.
"Slavers tried to get us. They failed."
"Ah," the shopkeeper looked Viserys up and down, then glanced at Dany and simply nodded.
Malek checked the blades one after another, bringing some of them close to a nearby torch to get a better look.
"Most of these are cheap shit, worth a few low coins at best. I can find some young or desperate fools to unload them with. These two, however, are decent steel that won't fail you in battle," Malek deftly handled a straight double-bladed dagger and one of the cavalry sabers.
A bit of haggling later, Viserys had more coins, Malek was satisfied enough, and the exile was reasonably sure he didn't get swindled too badly. Surprisingly enough, Dany wasn't bored but instead watching the people busy shopping in the early evening. It only now dawned on Viserys that given Pentos' location and the heat during the day, people would be doing a lot of work early in the morning or in the evening instead of at high noon. He was proven right when it became clear that while some of the merchants were closing shop already, others showed no sign of doing so anytime soon. That was a good thing because, at the very least, the Targaryens needed one set of clean clothes each before retiring to an inn. The very thought of sleeping again in these dirty rags was murderously infuriating.
There was a seamstress with a shop still open halfway across the marketplace. The clothes sold there were simple, of good enough quality, and reasonably cheap, which was a nice bonus. The only issue was that the merchant girl who attended to customers at this hour wasn't impressed at how dirty and stinking her newest clients were. It took a bit of cajoling, and Viserys had to lace his voice with the Force to make the damn girl eyeball them for clothes of close enough fit that they'll be of use.
Watching Dany beam in happiness at getting a clean, simple white cotton dress was both endearing and served as more fuel for the Prince's rage. At this rate, they had to get to an inn and away from people so he could best keep himself from going on a killing spree on general principle.
Viserys grabbed the dress, wool trousers, and shirt for himself, paid the girl, and marched Dany back to their horse outside while still in a semblance of control over his emotions. He had to figure out why this innocent event almost drove him over the edge, but that was for the latter.
They rode to an inn near the market, which, because of its location, had to be a half-decent place. It was great for everyone involved that no one among the patrons paid them any attention—people were lucky enough to be minding their own business tonight. Viserys wasted no time in renting a room and ordering a bath and food. He tipped well for privacy and extra hot water before following one of the serving girls upstairs.
Peace was not to be. When Dany got her hands on warm bread and rich hot stew, her emotions hit Viserys like a Warhammer between the eyes, followed by a knife to the heart. The sheer happiness and relief at such a simple thing was heart-rending. Viserys had to cajole Dany to eat slowly so she wouldn't make herself sick, which earned him a flash of fear. It took him painfully long moments to figure out why – his sister was afraid that someone would take the good food away from her before she could eat more than a bite or two.
Watching Dany eat while looking around for anyone coming to take her bread and stew was terrible enough. A bit later, her reaction to the hot bath had Viserys shaking with righteous rage and ready to turn Pentos into a graveyard because he simply had to get his rage out of his system. As soon as he got Dany into the hot tub and Visserys began gently washing her mess of hair, she broke down crying and finally got a proper bath after all that time.
Instead of going on a murder spree, Viserys pulled his crying little sister into a tight hug and muttered sweet nothings in her ear. For this alone, he was going to murder his way through every single bastard responsible for their exile and their whole extended families. Their pets, too, for good measure, Viserys vowed.
=Sith=
Chapter 1 Part 4
=Sith=
290 AC
Pentos
Essos
Late that night, Viserys tucked Dany into bed and sat beside it, leaning on its frame. The room was as secure as possible – he lodged the door with the chair. He telekinetically moved a wardrobe to cover the window. Only then did he allow himself to relax and try to meditate? Ever since they got to Pentos, Viserys' emotions became harder and harder to control. At this point, he knew he was a single provocation from going on a killing spree, something that would be disastrous no matter the outcome. The best-case scenario was that he and Dany survived it intact, meaning having to flee with nothing. At worse, such an episode might get him crippled or killed. Worse, it might get Dany killed or alone, which was unacceptable!
Rage flooded Viserys' system at those thoughts. The Force was eager to respond. It surged through his veins, requiring the tiniest of openings to erupt.
Viserys spent what felt like an eternity calming himself down, which was much more challenging than it should have been. After briefly reflecting on the Force, he decided nothing was wrong with it. If anything, the Dark Side was calmer than ever and wasn't whispering ruinous ideas in the back of his mind. The Force wasn't the issue here.
Was something wrong with his body? His teenage body… Fuck. Viserys was a hormonal teenager who had been under tremendous stress since he was five or six years old. If he took Aerys' messed up parenting attepts into account, then his issues stretched for as far back as he could remember. Add everything that happened since Ser Darry died and the utter disaster that concluded with a Sith merging with Viserys… Was it a wonder he was a hair-trigger away from going on a killing spree?!
Viserys had to calm down and take control of his emotions. They were supposed to serve him and be fuel for the Force, not the other way around! However, Viserys knew he might not get the time he needed to get his head straight. That meant he needed reliable protection for Dany in case he lost it and went murdering everyone who wasn't her… which was a problem if that included his sister's bodyguards.
After a night of uneasy rest, Viserys didn't feel much better. On the bright side, Dany rose refreshed and looking adorable in her clean dress. That was yet another double-edged sword as far as Viserys' control was concerned because the better his little sister looked, the more of a target for all kinds of bastards she was.
The Prince put their room to rights with the Force. After a brief visit to the privy, his control took another hit at the reminder that there was no such thing as toilet paper in this world, much less something better. While Dany devoured a freshly cooked breakfast, Viserys had to reevaluate his plans. Taking things slowly was out of the question now. His control over his sanity was liable to snap sooner rather than later, and he needed protection for Dany in place before then.
Viserys made sure that no one was near his sister, then walked to the innkeeper and sat at the barplot, where the man was taking notes into a ledger.
"Innkeepers always hear the most interesting things," Viserys offered with a hopefully disarming smile and put a golden coin between the two of them.
That earned him a raised eyebrow.
"I don't tell the secrets of my customers. I will happily talk about anything else for the right price," the man noted and kept working on his ledger.
"I need reliable security. Mercenaries can be bought for the right price, and those who respect a contract when the money keeps coming are few and far between."
"Sellswords," the innkeeper scoffed. "We aren't working with them, not just because of our treaty with Braavoss!" He declared proudly. "The bastards can't be relied upon when you need them most."
"My thoughts exactly. I hear that there's only one sane alternative, even if it is expensive. I want to hear your perspective," Viserys pushed for something useful.
"The eunuchs? Everyone knows the best soldiers there in Essos. However, I don't think you can afford them, friend. For some time now, the Good Masters no longer sell small groups of them," the innkeeper whispered. "It turns out that if there's just a few, they become slothful creatures who eat too much and can no longer fight properly, or so the tale goes. You have to buy at least a Century of them. That's whole Ten Spears of Unsuilled."
"Then I have my work cut out for me. Do you know anyone in Pentos who has bought Unsuilled recently? I would like to have fresh information about them and how expensive they are," Viserys said, pushing another coin at his host.
"Magister Zavis got a Century, not two months ago. They're his pride and joy. He's using half their Spears to guard his most precious caravans while the rest protect his mansion," the innkeeper confided.
"Do remind me, where is the good Magister's home?"
Viserys and Dany left the inn, heading for the bank a few minutes later. Daenerys looked left and light in wonder at no longer having to scamper around like a beggar. Meanwhile, Viserys plotted how to approach the Magister and his slave soldiers. Ideally, he would spend days, if necessary, to recon the place and make plans. Realistically, he had a fraction of the time before his control snapped, and everything went to hell. Either way, Viserys couldn't afford to act as if he could keep himself together. Because, as long as he had to keep Dany close and safe by himself, he couldn't use his usual outlets for stress relief.
The visit to the bank saw their local money double, which was good. Sadly, their luck also ran out because more than a few Westerosi were in the place. Viserys was sure that the bastards recognized them. Before, that would have meant running and hiding from glory hounds eager to bring them dead or alive to the Usurper for a reward. Now, Viserys was racing against time because he was sure the moment someone attempted to harm Dany, he would snap, and there would be a bloodbath.
The Targaryens reached the general vicinity of Magister Zavis' home near the part of the city where most successful Dothraki Kals had estates when their luck imploded.
Viserys was distracted by Dany's childish joy at the new sights and running increasingly desperate ideas for gaining access to Unsuilled. Only a sense of rapidly approaching danger courtesy of the Force made him pay close attention to their surroundings. He had a moment to curse himself for losing situation awareness before two groups of Westerosi approached them.
Four mounted men cut them off. Judging by their build and different ages, it was a pair of knights with their squires. While they were armed, there was no sight of armor. Clearly, they got their mounts in a hurry to hunt themselves a pair of exiles wanted by the crown.
The other group consisted of six armed and armored men. A glance told Viserys all he needed to know about them. Fucking Ironborn. Those savages getting their hands on Dany would mean a fate worse than death. Their banter as they approached proved his fears.
"The lass will make a nice little salt wife! Surely the Stag King will be happy with the boy?" One of the bastards leered at Dany.
"Nonsense. We can have fun with the girl on the way to King's Landing, then we'll sell her to the whoremonger King. We can buy or get all the salt wives with the reward!" The apparent leader of the rapists announced to loud cheers.
What little control Viserys had left melted like a snowflake thrown straight into the Seven Hells. He used his last semblance of sanity to get Dany off the horse and push her towards the nearest wall. Viserys' icy rage immolated, turning into an inferno that consumed him. Then there was only Dany's bright, warm signature in the Force he had to protect and targets that had to die screaming.
=Sith=
Chapter 1 Part 5
=Sith=
290 AC
Pentos
Essos
The last time he could remember losing control in such a fashion was a lifetime ago, shortly after becoming Baras' Apprentice. While there were episodes later, he had never been consumed by rage in such a way again until that fateful day in Pentos.
There was a distant part of him that clawed and raged against the fury and fear-inspired killing frenzy. Nevertheless, all that piece of him could do was keep an eye on Dany and nudge his wrath around her so she wouldn't become collateral damage. Stopping the frenzy while there was any real or perceived threat around proved impossible.
For many in Pentos, it was extremely unfortunate that after decades as a Sith and fighting on countless battlefields across the galaxy, Viserys was a precise killing machine even when controlled by pure murderous rage.
Focused dark purple Sith Lighting lashed at the Ironborn, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Telekinesis plucked two daggers from their scabbards on Viserys' waist, and they flew true, guided by the Force. The knight's horses died with a blade through the eye, throwing their riders on the paved streets. Behind them, the squires faltered at the sorcerous display.
Meanwhile, Viserys mind saw flashes of a thousand battlefields. There weren't regular people minding their business on the street. Instead, the Sith saw combat droids and soldiers from a score of different factions, all ready to kill him and his charge. He unleashed a pulse of pure Force energy in a semicircle, throwing men, women, and children like discarded toys. Bones snapped on impact with walls or cobblestones. Organs ruptured. Skulls shattered, spilling blood and pulped brains.
The screams and wails of the dying made Pentos' guard and the protectors of many Magisters run towards the sound of battle. The city guard mobilized in response to an attack on one of the wealthiest districts. Unsuilled grabbed their charges, bringing them to better-defended rooms. At the same time, Spears of slave soldiers ran in tightly knit formations to blunt the perceived attack.
That was an expected, sane response. It was the worst choice the locals could have made.
The moment reinforcements rushed in, instead of keeping away to assess the situation, Viserys' mind transported him to the battlefield, where he suffered his greatest failure. He was again racing headfirst into a trap, with his dear niece's life at stake. The 212th was dying around him, desperately fighting to give him a chance to reach their General's daughter.
Viserys didn't see Pentosi guards in their drab garb and simple equipment or Unsuilled in black leathers leveling their spears at him. He was surrounded by state-of-the-art Confederacy War droids and kill teams trained to hunt Force Adepts.
The Force responded to the call of its sole wielder in this universe, and hell came to Pentos. Viserys raised his hands, throwing thick bolts of lighting into the sky. The heavens sundered, and the Dark Side poured above the city. A deadly lightning storm struck down, blasting whole Guard and Unsuilled units apart.
At that display, everyone fortunate to be still alive in the area save for Dany ran for their lives, screaming that the devil of their religion had come for their souls.
Daenerys was terrified as well, but not for her life. She could feel the magic in the air, and while cold, it was welcoming. Visy was right; that was their birthright! It sang in her blood and beckoned. However, instead of feeling pure joy at that development, Dany was terribly afraid for her big brother. His rage was terrifying to behold, but that didn't matter! Vis was always there for her for as long as Dany could remember! He always did his best to protect her! She had no one else, and the same was true for him!
Instead of running or staying put as she was told, Dany rushed straight into the storm of magic and violence surrounding her brother. Her thin hands clutched his waist, and she buried her face into his side. Magic washed over Dany, then through her. Visy's rage sent her to her knees, yet she didn't let go. Dany was a dragon! Her brother always said so! She wouldn't let him go!
"Visy, come back to me! Visy, please!" Dany begged.
Viserys looked down at her. His eyes were those of a real dragon – two pools of burning fire. Visy's face was wrong, sick. Thick black veins covered it like the roots of a diseased tree.
"Brother, please!" Dany implored. A lighting-clad hand descended, aiming at her face. Dany refused to look away despite the fear surging through her. Was her precious brother truly lost!?
Icy fingers touched the crown of Dany's head and mushed her hair. The magic storm around them collapsed, sending freezing gusts of wind everywhere. Dany felt chill seep into her bones, yet it wasn't an unpleasant sensation. Visy collapsed to his knees and stared at her with lost eyes. The dragon fire in them receded. To Dany's immense relief, the black veins disfiguring her brother's face slowly faded, leaving him deadly pale. His hands pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. Relief threatened to drown Dany's whole world, and she cried her eyes out at having her brother back.
"Shh… I am back, my Little Dragon," an exhausted voice murmured in Dany's ear.
=Sith=
The Prince and Magisters of Pentos gathered for an emergency meeting hours later. While the Beggar Prince and his little sister enjoyed a hot bath at Zavis' mansion, their host was glad beyond measure that he was nowhere near them. They met as far away from his home as the city walls allowed. Instead of lavishly furnished rooms, the richest and thus most powerful men and women in Pentos pilled into the yard of simple barracks.
Hundreds were dead, and almost half of them were from the city Guard or Unsullied. There was no way to dismiss the truth, for more than one Magister, their guards or servants saw the butchery from high up in their mansions.
Viserys fucking Targaryen was a powerful Warlock. Perhaps the most powerful anyone in the world knew of. Fucking Valyrians.
Zavis shuddered when everyone looked at him. Some were scared out of their minds, while he could perceive calculations in the eyes of others.
"It is clear that we've displeased the gods," Zavis blurted out, signing their Prince's death warrant. "Mistakes were made. I spoke with the Prince," and for once, there was no disdain or sneer when talking about Viserys Targaryen, the begging beggar. But he was a beggar no more, was he? The young exile was undoubtedly the most dangerous creature in Pentos, if not in the whole of Essos. Hundreds of broken corpses proved that painful fact.
"I must congratulate you for your foresight, my young friend!" the Cheesemongerer's oily voice grated on Zavis.
"It all happened near my manor! When that Warlock brought his sister to my door and requested an audience, there was no way I could refuse them anything!" Zavis blurted out.
"You are here, alive. That's more than many who faced the Warlock could say," Mopatis tried to sound soothing and genial, failing miserably due to the fearful tremble in his voice.
"What do they want? The keys of the city?!" Another Magister hysterically demanded.
"He's being very reasonable, all things considered," Zavis admitted.
"He murdered more of our people than the last ten Dothraki Hordes that came for tribute!" The Prince finally found his balls, not that it would help him. After today's debacle, he was a dead man walking. His blood would hopefully appease the gods and help see that murderous Warlock leave, never to return.
"He wants a gift of a few Unsuilled Spears to guard his sister," Zavis admitted. "It was Westerosy scum trying to kill her that provoked him."
"Fucking barbarians!" Mopatis spat fearfully.
"He also requests a ship and a tribute so he could buy himself a Century of Unsuilled to bolster the guard on his sister so we can all avoid a repeat of today's events," Zavis admitted.
All things considered, those were very reasonable requests and a small price to pay to get the plague that was the Targaryen far away. Let Astrapor deal with them!
"Who is going to pay him?" Mopatis gathered his courage and decided to cause trouble.
"I already gifted him half my Unsuilled. The rest got my family out and are riding hard to my villa," Zavis shrugged. "Someone else will pay for a Century and a ship while I do my best to keep my guests calm."
Everyone winced at that. Pointedly, no one volunteered to get the Targaryens off Zavis' hands.
"Not to sound presumptions, but can't we just assassinate them?" one of the older, braver Magisters asked.
"Can I suggest we sacrifice him to the gods for being a bloody fool?" the Prince offered. 'Instead of me,' he left unsaid.
The Magister in question blanched when all his peers looked speculatively at him.
"If not, I suggest our brave friend here finances my guest's future Unsullied Century," Let it never be said that Mopatis missed an opportunity for profit or to stir trouble when he saw one.
Zavis had to agree with the Cheesemonger this one time. He liked his home and didn't want to see it turned into a butcher's paradise. Let people try to assassinate the Warlock when the Targaryen was far away from Pentos. Hells, Zavis might be one of the people sending assassins after the Sorcerer Prince, but only when he was safely on the other side of Essos!
