"Dany," Viserys suddenly said, his low voice breaking the brief silence between them. "Who do you think would hate this world more-a man robbed of both his hands, or a man exiled somewhere hopeless?"
Daenerys paused, then tilted her head back, her violet eyes looking slightly hazy in the firelight. She seemed wholly unprepared for Viserys to ask such a question.
After a moment's thought, she said softly, "A man robbed of his hands would mostly hate whoever took them from him. But a man exiled somewhere hopeless would hate the entire world that abandoned him. The latter... would be more dangerous, and more desperate."
Viserys nodded, an inscrutable smile curling his lips. "Exactly. That is why I believe that once the war against the Others is over, we can reorganize the entire Night's Watch and stop accepting criminals forced to go to the Wall against their will. Their hatred for Westeros far exceeds any hatred they feel for the Others, whom they have never even encountered."
Daenerys looked at her brother behind her, complicated feelings stirring in her heart. She knew Viserys never did good without a purpose. Even an exile that seemed merciful concealed a deeper aim.
But she offered no objection, merely resting her hand over his. On that cold night in the North, they huddled together for warmth.
"Sleep," Viserys said, adjusting the blanket covering them. "We have more traveling to do tomorrow. Before the threat from the north arrives, we must find that horn-the one that could determine whether our defenses hold."
Daenerys obediently closed her eyes, but her breathing did not settle at once. Viserys's words were like a stone dropped into a deep pool, sending ripples through her heart.
*The Horn of Winter... I heard of it before, in the northern legends Arya