Daenerys did not speak again. She said nothing more, only settled her forehead more securely against Viserys's neck, her warm breath passing through his collar and carrying the warmth of her body.
Viserys felt that small patch of warmth slowly seep beneath his collar, and he leaned back against the stone wall, letting the rock behind him bear some of the weight.
The four dragons had long since settled quietly around them, their breathing barely audible. Only Acmot occasionally let a low rumble roll from his throat, but the waves soon drowned it out.
There was a warning in his eyes, his golden pupils narrowing slightly in the darkness, as though he still held an instinctive wariness toward the restless sea at night, as though something within it might threaten their safety.
Daenerys's breathing soon grew deep and steady, brushing against his neck with each breath. She seemed to have truly fallen asleep.
Viserys did not close his eyes at once. He lowered his gaze to the small figure curled in his arms and studied her peaceful sleeping face, then went over tomorrow's route in his mind once more: to the western islands, north along the Westerlands, and then on to the Wall. He sorted out the general directions and order of their journey and gave another thought to the places where they might be delayed.
As for the endless squabbles and matters of pride in the south, all the probing, evasion, and appearances that had to be maintained, they seemed to have been carried far away by the sea. He no longer cared about them at all.
Viserys listened to the tide rise and fall outside the cave until the last embers nearby faded completely and everything sank into darkness. He quieted his mind and sensed his surroundings once