green lies, black hearts

IV

a/n -- enjoy :)

-p

~+~

Shaera

Shaera held her grandfather's hand with one and turned the pages of a story book with another as she slowly read aloud to him. The only sounds aside from her voice were those of flickering candles and the rhythmic wheezing that escaped Viserys' open cheek—a sight which had curdled her stomach last night. But now, instead of a golden mask, linen was wrapped securely to cover the rotting side of his face, and it seemed much more comfortable. He was quiet, eye gently shut, and if Shaera didn't know any better, she would have assumed him to be sleeping. But with the way he squeezed her hand every page turn and the small smile revealing his rotting teeth, his alertness was known to her.

Though, sometimes her eyes would stray to the small cup on his nightstand beside her.

Only let him drink it if he absolutely needs it, her mother had whispered to her. It clouds his mind far too much.

Shaera frowned.

"What...what happens ne—"

Viserys began to cough and groan, sending Shaera into a fit. She grabbed one of his handkerchiefs and helped him hold it to his mouth. Only let him drink it if he absolutely needs it. Over and over it rang in her head as her grandfather wheezed and moaned. Teeth buried in her lip, she worried it into a bruised mess as she looked between her grandfather and the cup.

Was this when he absolutely needed it?

Was it cruel of her not to give it to him?

Would her mother be upset if she did? If she didn't?

Gods, what was she supposed to do? What was she—

"Shaera, my...dear."

The princess reached for the cup, certain her grandfather was going to ask for it, but he stopped her.

His coughing had ceased and though his body deflated with exhaustion into the bed, he was smiling as sweetly as he could. "I'm alright, dear," he rasped. "Just keep...keep reading, will you?"

"Are you certain?"

He nodded. "Yes, Shaera. Finish the story and then...then I shall take to bed. Hmm? Is that fair?"

Shaera frowned at her grandfather's compromise, but she sighed and nodded in surrender. He took the handkerchief from her and waved for her to continue reading. He tilted his head back, resuming the role of a quiet audience, and Shaera's eyes darted back towards the cup once again. But she did not reach for it. She did not reach for it, but she certainly kept it close. Just in case. In case her grandfather's pains began to seize him once more.

But, gods be good, she finished the story and Viserys did not have another fit.

Closing the book firmly, she stood from her chair and pressed a kiss to her grandfather's cheek. "Rest well, grandfather," she told him. "Mother will be sure to come to your side today. Daemon as well."

"Hmm, good, good." He clasped her hands in his. "Thank you, my sweetest grandchild. Truly, you are the best of your mother" —he brushed an errant black curl from her face— "and your father. A true Targaryen, hmm?"

When he said that, did he see Laenor Velaryon, or did he see the truth of the once Lord Commander of the City Watch? Shaera had always wondered if her grandfather knew—he had to, didn't he?—and simply ignored it. For Rhaenyra's sake. For her children's sakes. Whatever it was, whoever he saw in Shaera's face, the young princess was grateful. Eternally. He loved her and her mother and her brothers more than anything, she assumed with how willing he was to fight for them. Shaera could never hate him. Forever would her dying grandfather hold a large part of her heart. The heart he protected despite Strong blood thrumming in her veins.