Fatebringer | Viserys Targaryen

Chapter 1

A/N: Hello everyone! As with my previous stories, I wanted to make a note about a few things. One, you can expect the usual Game of Thrones themes of abuse, miscarriage, traumatic childbirth, underage marriage, violence, incest, etc. Two, it will be depressing in many aspects and have a great deal of angst. Three, I am basing this off of the show. And four, as with my past fics, the main point is NOT necessarily the love story, it is about the growth of the character! Viserys Targaryen is the intended love interest but the majority of the focus is on the OC's journey.

If you're still interested, go right ahead. For reference, the OC's face claim is Bruna Marquezine. If you look up gifs from her role as Catarina de Lurton in Deus Salve o Rei, you'll see the image I have of her.

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Norvos, 298 AC

The sea was the only thing at peace.

Not that she could see it beyond the stone walls and sharp mountains that stretched as far as her eyes could see, the line of glittering water tranquil but invisible.

A metaphor, perhaps, for the things she wanted but could not have. Her mother had once said she reminded her of the sea, refusing to be restrained and yet catching one off their guard at unexpected times. The only thing the sea had at this very moment that she did not was the assurance of nothingness.

No one told the sea what to do. It pulsed constantly into the unknown, out into the horizon where no one would ever make demands of it. She, on the other hand, had a role to play, had a weight over her shoulders that was not nothing— could never be nonexistent unless she purposely lost herself in a wasteland.

The feeling was her fault entirely. No one had told her to say 'yes' when asked to go beyond, to leave the safety of Norvos and venture into uncertainty— into potential doom. Perhaps she'd agreed because she did not think this time would arrive, did not think she'd truly be asked to answer this call.

She wished she was more like her father, a silent carrier of thought that did not manifest out of proper place, proper time.But she wasn't like that quiet, pondering man. She was much more like her uncle, a man who wanted blood, who did not turn away when an opportunity like this presented itself.

In saying yes, she allowed the thirst to grow in herself. The path may not have been clear, but she could make it so, if it would lead her to the only bit of death she'd ever craved. It was this and only this that really encouraged her to consider leaving the security she had here.

This calm place had been home, a point of salvation after having been on the run for years, scavenging for food like a rat in the sewers. A child herself, with another like her and a screaming baby in tow. It was a miracle they made it to Norvos in one piece.

"Skoros issi ao otapagon, nuha dona rina?" asked the woman behind her, reaching out to run her fingers over her daughter's long braid. (T: What are you thinking, my sweet girl?)

She gripped the edge of the balcony, knuckles pale until she let up, shaking her fingers into a delicate clutch over her skirt. "Nyke ydra daor sesir zapamat Dorne. Nyke ne mogu trebovat nyke mirre jeldan naejot jikagon arli. Ilin konaco u redu kesir, konaco hen il neschastnyy geralbri." (T: I don't even remember Dorne. I can't claim I ever wanted to go back. We were finally alright here, finally out of those wretched streets.)

The woman's brows furrowed, seeing how her daughter's eyes squinted, as if willing the mountains to part so she might see the sea. The way she wished to bend them to her will was the same way she knew she'd soon be doing to thousands of people with her words— something only she could do if they were to proceed as planned.