The Bronze Dragon-A House of the Dragon fanfic

Chapter 2

What can be said of Viserys I, better known as Viserys the Peaceful? He reigned over Westeros at the height of Targaryen power. More dragons were in existence during his reign that at any other. Yet at the same time, his reign planted the seeds that would grow into the Dance of the Dragons. I have often pondered how things would have turned out if he had been a better father to his children by Queen Alicent. My father's opinion of the man, to this day, remains complicated. Ultimately, it will only be the fullness of time that can judge Viserys I, and we cannot know how kind or unkind it will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

King's Landing

Viserys sighed as he and Lyonel Strong, his ever loyal Hand, made their way through the Red Keep to his chambers. The scuffle in the training yard had wrecked any hopes he had at the boys forming a bond in the short term. The only one of them who didn't seem to have any grudges was Daeron, and that was likely because he was too young, though he hoped it was because the boy was genuinely kind at heart. He shook his head as he sat down, looking out over King's Landing through the window.

"What do you make of Daevar, Lyonel?" He asked, turning to face the Lord of Harrenhal.

"Your Grace?"

"Daevar. Daemon's son. What do you make of him?" He asked again. Lyonel tried to pick his words carefully but truthfully. He had a great deal of respect for Daevar already, truth be told. The boy was not exactly the spitting image of his father, but did seem to inherit the Rogue Prince's skill with a sword, if the training yard was any indication.

"He is growing into a fine young man, Your Grace. I've no doubt that Runestone will be well served with him as its ruler." Lyonel said.

Viserys smiled and nodded. "Indeed. And Lady Jeyne will be well served having him as one of her bannermen. When the time comes for him to lead men, I've little doubt he will prove himself indispensable." He replied enthusiastically. Much had been said of Daevar; how he had inherited his mother's skill on horseback and his father's skill at arms, though it was usually coupled with the mention of Lady Rhea's untimely death and Daemon effectively abandoning him.

Viserys sighed. The boy was owed better than that. At the very least, Daemon could've had him sent to Driftmark to be raised by Rhaenys or something akin to that instead of leaving him in the Vale. Instead he'd gone off to fight in the Stepstones and waste his life in Essos with Laena Velaryon, leaving Daevar in the care of Ser Gerold Royce, and raising tensions with the entire Vale as a consequence. "I think–" He was cut off by the door opening, revealing Ser Erryk Cargyll.

"Lord Daevar of Houses Targaryen and Royce, Your Grace." He announced as the boy entered the room. Daevar was only of average height, yet carried himself with an air of lordly authority, with his shoulders squared, back straight, and his head high. Lamentation was strapped to his hip, and the bronze cuirass still adorned his chest. Viserys had heard the tales of the bronze armour of House Royce; how the runes made them invulnerable to their enemies. Of course, many Royces had died wearing that armour, so Viserys mostly saw it as a status symbol.

The King smiled as his only nephew approached him. "Ah. Daevar, my boy. Welcome." He said, holding out his one good arm. Over the last decade, Viserys's left arm had rotted with disease, forcing Maester Orwyle to have it removed to stop the infection. To any man, an injury of this magnitude would shake their lives, yet Viserys seemed to be bothered by it very little.

"Your Grace." Daevar greeted, bowing.

Viserys chuckled. "Is that any way to greet your uncle?" He asked, before putting a hand on Daevar's shoulder. "It's good to have you back in King's Landing. Tell me, how are things in Runestone?"