The Dragonpit, Night.
The air deep within the Dragonpit was scorching that night.
Torches flickered against the damp stone walls, casting long, dancing shadows.
Daemon sat in the gloom, quietly awaiting the King's arrival.
He had avoided the Red Keep, knowing it was infested with Aemond's spies.
He chose this place instead, inviting Viserys to meet him on neutral, dragon-scented ground.
Creak.
The heavy stone door opened. Daemon watched the figure approach and offered a thin smile.
"Brother."
After a long silence, Viserys reached up and removed his golden mask.
Under the dancing firelight, the rot on the left side of his face was exposed in all its gruesome reality.
Flesh was missing; bone was visible.
Daemon's breath hitched.
"You..." Daemon's voice caught in his throat. He had intended to say his brother looked better, but the lie was too clumsy even for him.
Finally, he said, "You should be sitting."
He reached out to steady Viserys's arm.
Viserys allowed Daemon to support him as they moved toward a crude wooden chair set beside a stone table.
It was a makeshift arrangement by the Dragonkeepers, covered only by a simple red rug.
As he sat, Viserys let out a suppressed groan of agony. Cold sweat glistened on his brow.
Daemon frowned. "You need Milk of the Poppy. I'll send for someone, "
"No," Viserys interrupted, gasping for air.
"Not tonight."
Daemon sat opposite him. Between them was a rough stone table holding nothing but a jug of wine and two clay cups.
There was no silver, no crystal, none of the luxury befitting royalty.
"You look," Daemon finally spoke, "as if you are not long for this world."
Viserys managed a twisted, half-faced smile.
"The Maesters say a few years at most."
He raised a trembling right hand toward the wine; he needed the alcohol to numb the pain.
Daemon poured two cups. It was a Northern vintage, harsh and stinging to the throat, but strong. He pushed a cup toward his brother.
"What are you still worrying about? Is it not better to die in peace? All these troubles... I will resolve them once you are gone."
The words were cruel, and Daemon knew it, but he couldn't help himself.
Viserys did not take offense. He picked up the cup with difficulty and took a sip, his throat making a gurgling sound as he swallowed.
"What I worry about is what happens after I am gone," Viserys said, his gaze fixing on Daemon.
"I worry that when I close my eyes... my children will slaughter one another."
His right eye, the one still intact, stared at Daemon with a look of absolute resolve that Daemon hadn't seen in years.
His voice suddenly became clear and strong, as if the pain had momentarily retreated.
"So I have come to ask you, Daemon. Will you still not give up?"
The cavern fell silent.
Daemon didn't speak. He stared down as he swirled the wine in his clay cup.
The rough texture of the pottery scraped against his palm, reminding him of the Stepstones, of sea spray, salt, steel, and blood.
He had fought in those islands for years. For what?
At first, it was to prove himself. Later, he was to build his own kingdom.
In the end... it was just something to do, because Viserys didn't want him.
Viserys had Rhaenyra, he had a new heir, and he had a court that functioned perfectly well without his brother.
Daemon looked up and countered.
"And what if I don't give up? Will you kill me, Viserys?"
Viserys's hand tightened around his cup.
"The Kingsguard are right outside," he rasped.
"If I call out, they will rush in."
Daemon watched him, then burst into a hollow, tragic laugh.
"You want to kill me? Now? Here?"
He stood up and threw his arms wide, exposing his chest.
"Then do it, brother. I won't fight back. Call the guards, or do it yourself. I promise I won't dodge."
Viserys did not move. He just stared at his brother standing in the firelight.
Then, without warning, tears welled up in his good eye and tracked down his cheek. He didn't wipe them away.
"Why... Daemon, why must you be this way? Why can't you take a step back? For me? For this family? For the kingdom our father and ancestors built?"
Daemon lowered his arms. He didn't sit back down; instead, he walked over to Viserys and looked down at his brother. He spoke with chilling calm.
"Years ago... it was you who patted me on the shoulder and said the Iron Throne would pass from brother to brother."
Viserys remained silent.
"It was right after the Great Council," Daemon continued.
"When I brought my men and my sword to stand by your side. We went back to your room, just the two of us. You poured two cups of wine, much better than this, Arbor Gold. You patted my shoulder; your hand was heavy. I remember it clearly."
"You said, 'Brother, thank you. One day, the Iron Throne will be yours too.'"
He paused.
"I believed it. I was a damn fool, but I believed it." Daemon laughed, a sound full of self-derision.
"I thought my brother wouldn't lie to me. So I waited. One year, two, five, ten. I helped you suppress rebellions, I helped you intimidate the Lords, I did all the dirty work for you. I waited for the day you would fulfill your promise."
Then, Daemon's voice began to shake with uncontrollable rage.
"And then, you announced Rhaenyra as your heir."
The words struck Viserys like a hammer. He closed his eyes, his tears flowing freely. He couldn't hold back a sob.
"I hate you," Daemon whispered.
"Not because you didn't give me the throne! To hell with the Iron Throne! Is that hunk of metal even comfortable? I hate you because you lied to me for the sake of that throne! You are my brother, Viserys!"
"We grew up together. We explored the Dragonpit together, ran through the halls of the Red Keep, and practiced our swords together. When Mother died, it was you who held me because I was crying so hard I couldn't stand. When Father died, I stood by you because I knew we only had each other left."
He knelt until his eyes were level with the seated King.
"But you betrayed me! You cared about yourself! You cared about that Iron Throne! Did you ever care about me? You took the thing I cherished most, my trust in you, and stabbed me with it."
"And now you ask me why I won't give up? How can I? If I give up, what was all those years of waiting for? What was my life for?! And I know why you wouldn't let me marry Rhaenyra. Ever since you became King, you have never trusted me!"
Viserys opened his eyes and nodded. He finally admitted it.
"I was afraid you would seek revenge against me," Viserys confessed.
"I feared you would use Rhaenyra to get back at me. Daemon, I know you. When you love, you burn yourself to warm the one you love. When you hate, you burn the entire world."
"I didn't know your feelings for Rhaenyra, if you truly loved her, or if you just wanted to use her to take back what you thought was yours, or to hurt me. Back then... I was terrified."
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