The bar was dark, grimy, smoky. Noisy with drunken revelry. The bartender was a surly type; he took the proffered bills with a frown, grimaced as he opened a tap, scowled as he passed the mug backwards to his customer. Eye contact was fatal here. There was a door in the far wall: From time to time it opened, admitting a couple or spitting out a lone woman, worse for wear and years. Not all of the resident wenches restricted their business to the private rooms, however. The clientel was one writhing mass of sin.
All in all, it was exactly the sort of place Viserys hated.
"Two of whatever that is," he mumbled to the barkeep, gesturing towards a steaming concoction halfway down the bar. Its owner was a giant of a man, but even so the mug looked absurdly large.
The barkeep raised an eyebrow. "Two?"
"Was I not clear?"
"Aye. Two."
A drink in either hand, Viserys made his way to a shadowed corner. He clunked the mugs down sloppily and, seated, pulled his heavy cloak tighter around his shoulders. The locals were used to his type. They didn't bother him as he downed the first massive mug and started on the second.
One of the many advantages to having direct access to the world's energies was that the world itself tended to try to keep your body in balance for you. It drew "dark" energies into itself and dispersed them amongst its greater volume, leaving you healthy and taking little if any damage. This resulted in high resistance to most poisons. It also meant that getting drunk was very, very difficult.
And Viserys was desperate to be drunk.
As the second mug hit the halfway point, he began to feel the alcohol's effects.
Soon now, he promised himself.
It'll kick in soon. He took another long pull, then cradled his head in his arms, trying to lose himself in the dizziness. Tried to ignore the world.
Ignoring the world, he decided groggily, could be quite difficult. Especially when it took the form of the giant from the bar, and that giant decided to shove you out of your seat and steal your drink.
"Hope you weren't planning on finishing that," the larger man sneered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Stuff really hits the spot."
Viserys gave a wordless moan and turned his face away.
"Awwww, the boy wants his mommy..."
Mom. Oh, god, Mom. Dad. Kate. How long has it been...? Do you think I'm dead? Would you know me if I came home...? He could take no more. Tears welled in his eyes and dripped onto the scarred table.
The sight seemed to shake his antagonist, and instantly the man was on his feet, trying to placate him, offering to buy him another drink, saying he meant no harm, begging him not to cry. "I can't stand to see a man cry, it ain't right. Come on, now, t'weren't no harm meant!"
Straightening his head so that he was staring past the tip of his nose directly down at the tabletop, Viserys replied, "It's not the drink. It's not you. It's not what was meant, or what wasn't. It's never what was meant."
There was a moment of hesitant silence, and the giant sat back down.
"Well," he said, almost gently, "if it's not that, then what is it?"
"It's what happens. Happened. Is happening. Will happen. It's the waste, the death. It's trading one hell for another, massacring your allies in cold blood for a chance - one chance - to strike back, for winning through only to realize that on the way you've killed the ones you were fighting for in the first place. It's..." He broke off, gasping for breath.
"Come on, now. It can't be all that bad."
Suddenly furious, Viserys leaped to his feet, throwing back his cloak and revealing his face for the first time. The man gasped and shrunk back.
"You," he hissed, fixing the giant with a malignant stare, "have no right to tell me what can't be."
The background din faded abruptly, dwindling to shaken whispers, half-voiced rumors flitting from one patron to the next on wings of fear. "It's HIM. Viserys Stark." "Murderer." "I heard He went insane." "I thought He was dead!" "He's immortal, you idiot." "What's He doing here?" "Is He going to burn the place down?"
"Him..."The giant, suddenly stone-cold sober, quaked. "N-n-no sir," he stammered.
Viserys continued to glower, but after a moment his glare faltered and he seemed to deflate. His shoulders shrunk inwards and suddenly he was only a small cloaked figure, one of many, not to be feared. Still, no diminishment could entirely strike the ring of authority from his voice as he said, "Your bootknife. Give it here. And - " he flicked his fingers at the table, and a palm-sized bottle appeared - "you'll want that. Soon, I expect."
"S-sir?" The giant fumbled for his ankle, proffered up the requested dagger hilt-first. Viserys took it and turned to leave.
"You picked a bad drink to steal," was all he said, and he strode through the rear exit. The half-rotted door slammed shut behind him.
There were a few moments of uncomfortable shifting. Finally, unable to stand the heavy quiet any longer, the giant swept up the bottle and downed its contents in one swift gulp. "What a character," he said, forcing a laugh.
The spell was broken. The bar reverted to its usual state. The giant was the only one to take especial notice of an agonized shriek from the other side of the thin rear wall. Such cries were commonplace. Still, he was unsettled by the famed wizard's appearance, and his soul wasn't completely tarnished yet; curiosity drove him out soon enough.
Blood spattered the alley walls. Black, tacky, peeling, flaky, it was layered in coats decades deep; but some now was fresh. Corpses littered the gravel walk. A quick inspection revealed that no two had died in the same way: One was scorched, one dismembered, one beheaded, one crushed and crumpled, one simply dead for no clear reason. And a little ways away, the one survivor.
"They were good," Viserys coughed weakly, his lips quirking in the ghost of a smile. "They were good. Angry. I hardly had to work to rile them up."
The giant stood stock-still, aghast. "But...why?!"
"I regret having to kill them. This was not their destined fate. Him, in particular..." Slowly, a mangled hand stretched out to point to the markless corpse. "He had the spark. He could have been royalty. Would have. And - " here Viserys actually smiled - "skilled with a blade."
The giant took a cautious step forward, and another. Close enough now to see through the shadows. He hissed.
The wizard's right arm dangled useless, hacked nearly in two just below the shoulder. The corresponding leg was injured, too; the white glint of bone peeked through from the bottom of a deep cut. A horrendous gash sliced from one temple to the opposite ear and had clearly taken the left eye. No mortal could have stood all that for long, but the final injury sealed his fate: a stray moonbeam glinted off cold steel, and the giant winced. At least the wizard's stance was explained. A short sword - presumably Markless' - was driven neatly through Viserys' stomach and into the wall behind. The hilt-guard pressed deep into bloodsoaked cloth. The blade held the wizard pinned motionless to the alley wall.
My purpose is done. My deeds are complete. I have fought my fight here, and my time is ended. This is not my world and no matter how I try to delude myself it never has been. I cannot go home, a wolf in the midst of sheep. I will
not."You can't see it, can you...none of you can." Viserys shook his head, ever so slightly. "You've won. Your world is free, unfettered. You live on in bliss. But for your victory, someone had to lose...and it wasn't Robert who fell."
The blade creaked under the strain as Viserys sagged, his strength fading. The giant stretched forth a hand as if to catch him.
Head drooping, lolling helplessly to one side, Viserys spat a mouthful of blood and closed his eyes. "Not by my own hand," he whispered. "Couldn't. Blade shattered. Rope frayed. No cliff tall enough, not anymore... Poison, stolen. Not my own hand. I had to fight. But who would fight Him...?" As he spoke, his voice weakened, until even the giant's sharp ears could hardly pick it out. "And now..."
He smiled.
"And now..."
The drunken clamor from the bar behind him seemed to fade into nothingness. The universe held its breath for an instant, in reverence, in terror. The giant let out a long slow sigh.
I've won.
