[ It's a stupid thing to say: yes, her brother. But he is struck with stupidity. Viserys Targaryen is dead. Was dead. It's not that Tyrion doesn't believe her so much as the shock of the dark magic of it is beyond any mild difficulties he's had with, say, democracy or globalization or he dozen dozen other things different here.
A dead man, alive.
The possibility of other dead men showing up to haunt him is enough to run a shiver down his spine — seven hells, what if Joffrey was brought here? What if — his father—
He's gone all pale, but Tyrion clears his throat, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. ]
Well. I admit I've never heard a good word spoken of him, but if you wish to keep peace with him it's not as though I can advise you otherwise without hypocrisy.
[ A rueful smile. He did just beg for his own brother's life, after all. Besides, maybe Viserys will be fun! Lord knows nobody else Daenerys spends time with is. ]
[ There is a touch of rue that she had not thought to share that particular mechanic of this new world with him. It was one that had plagued her thoughts before, but in a different light. What if Rhaegar came through the Porter? What if Drogo?
But she allows him to collect his thoughts. ]
My father was mad, [ she says. ] And my brother would have likewise shamed the Targaryen legacy if he ever reached the shores of Westeros. He has died once for his foolishness, but I do not believe death has changed him.
I would prefer that all anyone knew of him was the name Drogon's nest-kin bears. They would look at Viserion's golden scales and think only of glory and might, and not of the truth. Peace would be simple. [ She picks up the communicator again, maintaining a practiced distance. ] So few things are.
[ Unlike her detachment, Tyrion is paying close attention now. Her father and brother was mad. Tyrion believes his nephew and possibly his sister were too. Familial madness is no stranger to them. Perhaps Viserys' appearance is more like Cersei's would be than Jaime's is. ]
Then what shall you do? Every man and woman who arrives in this city is bestowed with gifts of the sort that, in Westeros, only a rare few possessed.
[ Herself being one of them, of course. ]
We may not have armies at our disposal but I still believe fighting amongst ourselves could turn... noticeable.
[ There'd been a contemplative distance in her eyes, but they refocus on her device, the image of Tyrion in her palm. How convenient that a queen may have her adviser carried about in her pocket. ]
If you met him, I know what he would be like. He would be cruel to you personally, and demand your death for the name you bear. The deaths of the Starks that have arrived. Of Jorah, who watched him die.
[ Her best guess, anyway. He'd been close to reasonable when they met, under Drogon's shadow, and this world is even stranger than their transient existence in the Free Cities, but she will never forget those final months, days, moments, and the persisting cruelty that existed even before. ]
But he is not a powerful man. I imagine he would sooner do himself injury than anyone else.
Let us hope Joffrey does not arrive. The two of them would likely get on like a house on fire. With all the property damage that entails.
[ He sighs, leans back in his seat and rubs his beard. ]
In the best case scenario he finds this world and your ... new status agreeable and finds something harmless to occupy himself. But we should plan for the worst, your grace.
I don't know, [ she says, with a sigh, ] perhaps they'd be so preoccupied with one another we'd hardly even notice their presence.
[ Wishful thinking, wryly said. ]
In this world, there are institutions and healers committed to the treatment of madness. It's called psychiatry. There's an imPort that specialises in such practices -- but he is an ally to Lord Baelish, and Jorah has issued his warnings already about his nature.
[ Dr Chilton didn't seem so terribly bad to her, anyway, if a little pompous -- but first impressions are often misleading. ]
Nor do I favour the idea of watching Viserys flounder in this world, if he doesn't master its ways. And his own.
[ A healer of the mind. Tyrion privately wonders if he couldn't do with a bit of that himself. Although his immediate concern he decided to voice aloud: ]
Could anyone from this world, or one like it, truly hope to help someone from ours? Your brother is a product of Westerosi history as much as his own blood.
[ The rebellion. Rhaegar's death. The Targaryen birthright. The unquestioned idea of a birthright at all, something this country lacks. ]
He will also make his own decisions about his purpose here, no doubt. As will my own brother. Without a Game and a throne it's much easier to make a new start of it.
[ Not Tyrion, though. His job is to be her advisor, even here. ]
Perhaps. Perhaps not. Either Dr Chilton is skillful enough to adapt his practices, or he's arrogant enough to assume our kind would adapt to his.
[ She couldn't say, based on her first impression, although she knows what Jorah would guess, and perhaps Baelish too. Terribly, she thinks that Chilton could at least keep Viserys contained, if nothing else.
This last part earns a subtle smile, a little grim. ]
My brother knows of his own death, and he has seen the years that have passed for me since then. One way or another, he'll come to know this world as the only one left to him.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ It's a stupid thing to say: yes, her brother. But he is struck with stupidity. Viserys Targaryen is dead. Was dead. It's not that Tyrion doesn't believe her so much as the shock of the dark magic of it is beyond any mild difficulties he's had with, say, democracy or globalization or he dozen dozen other things different here.
A dead man, alive.
The possibility of other dead men showing up to haunt him is enough to run a shiver down his spine — seven hells, what if Joffrey was brought here? What if — his father—
He's gone all pale, but Tyrion clears his throat, closing his eyes for a moment to collect himself. ]
Well. I admit I've never heard a good word spoken of him, but if you wish to keep peace with him it's not as though I can advise you otherwise without hypocrisy.
[ A rueful smile. He did just beg for his own brother's life, after all. Besides, maybe Viserys will be fun! Lord knows nobody else Daenerys spends time with is. ]
no subject
But she allows him to collect his thoughts. ]
My father was mad, [ she says. ] And my brother would have likewise shamed the Targaryen legacy if he ever reached the shores of Westeros. He has died once for his foolishness, but I do not believe death has changed him.
I would prefer that all anyone knew of him was the name Drogon's nest-kin bears. They would look at Viserion's golden scales and think only of glory and might, and not of the truth. Peace would be simple. [ She picks up the communicator again, maintaining a practiced distance. ] So few things are.
no subject
Then what shall you do? Every man and woman who arrives in this city is bestowed with gifts of the sort that, in Westeros, only a rare few possessed.
[ Herself being one of them, of course. ]
We may not have armies at our disposal but I still believe fighting amongst ourselves could turn... noticeable.
no subject
[ There'd been a contemplative distance in her eyes, but they refocus on her device, the image of Tyrion in her palm. How convenient that a queen may have her adviser carried about in her pocket. ]
If you met him, I know what he would be like. He would be cruel to you personally, and demand your death for the name you bear. The deaths of the Starks that have arrived. Of Jorah, who watched him die.
[ Her best guess, anyway. He'd been close to reasonable when they met, under Drogon's shadow, and this world is even stranger than their transient existence in the Free Cities, but she will never forget those final months, days, moments, and the persisting cruelty that existed even before. ]
But he is not a powerful man. I imagine he would sooner do himself injury than anyone else.
no subject
[ He sighs, leans back in his seat and rubs his beard. ]
In the best case scenario he finds this world and your ... new status agreeable and finds something harmless to occupy himself. But we should plan for the worst, your grace.
no subject
[ Wishful thinking, wryly said. ]
In this world, there are institutions and healers committed to the treatment of madness. It's called psychiatry. There's an imPort that specialises in such practices -- but he is an ally to Lord Baelish, and Jorah has issued his warnings already about his nature.
[ Dr Chilton didn't seem so terribly bad to her, anyway, if a little pompous -- but first impressions are often misleading. ]
Nor do I favour the idea of watching Viserys flounder in this world, if he doesn't master its ways. And his own.
no subject
Could anyone from this world, or one like it, truly hope to help someone from ours? Your brother is a product of Westerosi history as much as his own blood.
[ The rebellion. Rhaegar's death. The Targaryen birthright. The unquestioned idea of a birthright at all, something this country lacks. ]
He will also make his own decisions about his purpose here, no doubt. As will my own brother. Without a Game and a throne it's much easier to make a new start of it.
[ Not Tyrion, though. His job is to be her advisor, even here. ]
no subject
[ She couldn't say, based on her first impression, although she knows what Jorah would guess, and perhaps Baelish too. Terribly, she thinks that Chilton could at least keep Viserys contained, if nothing else.
This last part earns a subtle smile, a little grim. ]
My brother knows of his own death, and he has seen the years that have passed for me since then. One way or another, he'll come to know this world as the only one left to him.