The walls shut out the clamor of clinking cups and revelry in the courtyard.
Viserys dragged Daenerys through the dim corridors.
His handsome face was twisted with fury, his breath sour with wine.
"Useless! You utterly useless wretch!"
His nails dug deep into Daenerys's arm.
"My army! My throne! Everything I had!"
"You ruined it all, you bitch!"
Vicious curses rained down on her.
Viserys shoved Daenerys roughly, sending her stumbling into the cold wall. The back of her head struck it painfully.
Ever since she was little, every time he spoke of "Waking the Dragon," endless torment followed.
But this time, beneath that familiar dark mire, a small flame flickered stubbornly.
[The Prince Is in the West.]
The prophecy echoed in her mind.
She wasn't merchandise. She had a destiny of her own!
A king who commanded a Three-Headed Ice Dragon was waiting for her!
She couldn't die here. She couldn't die at this madman's hands!
Viserys dragged Daenerys into her bedchamber and slammed the door behind him with a resounding bang.
Viserys advanced step by step.
His violet eyes were bloodshot, like those of a cornered beast.
"I'll kill you, Daenerys."
"I swear I'll kill you today!"
He ground the words out through clenched teeth.
When she saw Viserys raise his hand, the burning pain of his last slap seemed to linger on her cheek.
Daenerys instinctively closed her eyes.
No!
She couldn't simply resign herself to this!
In a flash, her gaze swept over the low table beside her.
A plate of fruit the maids had just brought sat there, with a small silver paring knife beside it.
The blade was short, but sharp enough.
Just as Viserys's palm was about to descend, a strength unlike anything she had ever known surged through Daenerys.
She twisted aside,