As Daenerys grew in confidence and influence within the khalasar, Viserys felt increasingly sidelined. His dreams of a triumphant return to Westeros, with himself as the rightful king, seemed to fade with each passing day. He watched as Daenerys embraced her role as Khaleesi, her eyes now holding a spark of authority he had never seen before.
He still loved her fiercely, but a seed of resentment began to sprout in his heart. He was the elder, the rightful heir. Why was she thriving in this barbarian land while he remained a shadow?
One evening, Illyrio's messengers arrived with chests bearing gifts for the Khaleesi. Among them were three petrified dragon eggs, ancient relics said to have turned to stone centuries ago. Daenerys was captivated by them, holding them with a reverence that Viserys found unsettling.
"They are beautiful, Viserys," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "Imagine if they were to hatch."
Viserys scoffed. "Dragon eggs are just stones, Dany. Focus on the army Drogo has promised."
But Daenerys couldn't take her eyes off them. She placed them in her tent, near the warmth of the brazier. Over the following weeks, she would often sit beside them, tracing their contours with her fingers, whispering ancient Valyrian words.
Viserys watched her, a strange feeling stirring within him. He had dismissed the eggs as mere trinkets, but Daenerys's unwavering fascination sparked a flicker of something he couldn't quite name. He found himself drawn to them as well, a primal curiosity tugging at his senses. He would often linger near Daenerys's tent, feeling a strange energy emanating from the petrified shells.
One night, he found Daenerys asleep beside the eggs, her face peaceful. He knelt beside her, his gaze fixed on the ancient stones. He reached out a hand, his fingertips brushing against the cold, rough surface. A jolt, like static electricity, coursed through him. He recoiled, his heart pounding. There was more to these eggs than met