𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅 | Viserys Targaryen

TEN

ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT, ALIA TENDED TO VISERYS HOWEVER POSSIBLE. When another bout of shivering seized his body, she covered him over and moved closer to him. When he began to burn up, she maximised their distance but still whispered gently, telling him that she was not going anywhere. She didn't care if he couldn't hear her; she had stayed the entire night, her hand not straying too far from his skin, always present to trace reassuring patterns across his burning flesh.

Alia hadn't gotten much sleep that night, but she didn't care. Not even when the sun rose and she felt she was exhausted did she do so much as bat an eyelid. All that mattered to her was that Viserys was comfortable – the weakness he had displayed was sudden and heart wrenching, and she didn't think she could bear to see it another day. Sometimes he would plead desperately in the cover of darkness, Alia's name tumbling from the would-be king's lips in the form of a gasp or a helpless cry. She would appear by his side again when that happened, fingers in his hair, whispering reassurances.

They remained how they were for the duration of the evening. Their legs were tangled together, their faces so close their breaths seemed to mingle into one. Alia's hand was resting on his forearm, fingers tracing circles, and whenever Viserys was struggling to sleep, she sang softly to him and told him stories she had made up on the spot. Later on, however, Alia couldn't tell if Viserys began to whimper because he was shivering or because he was crying. Regardless, she shushed him as she always did, pressing her palm reassuringly against his shoulder to tell that she was there – she wasn't going anywhere.

Viserys never showed signs of weakness – that was beneath him. But there he was, curled up in bed beside Alia, wrought with a horrifying fever that burned through him. She didn't think any differently of him for it, and when he recovered, she still wouldn't have a different opinion. Maybe she would treat him softer since seeing him struggle and cry, but he was still her king. She would treat him as such. Still, she found herself wondering if the way he treated her would change. Alia found herself hoping it would, burning with shame at the thought.

By the time the sun was visible and the Dothraki were up, Viserys was fast asleep. He looked peaceful as he slept, his madness invisible when he shut his lilac eyes. Alia didn't move from her spot – still keeping her promise – not even when a rather confused Daenerys appeared at the entrance.

"I– Alia? What are you... are you... why are you here?"

Alia lifted herself slowly in an effort not to wake Viserys. "Your brother is unwell, Little Dragon. A fever, I'm afraid."

Her amethyst eyes widened in alarm as she approached the side of his bed. There was a flash of concern that passed across her face as she pressed a hand to his forehead, looking to Alia pleadingly.

"What do we do?" She whispered desperately. "Why did you not get help?"

"I tried." Alia brushed silver strands of hair away from his face, watching as his lips twitched slightly. "But there was no one there. Dany, I couldn't leave him alone."