Vlad entered his chambers a couple of hours after his repugnant conversation with that damned man who dared to call himself a king. Daenerys was sitting in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. Her long silver strands cascaded over her shoulders, glowing under the soft light of the room.
—You didn't wake me —she said, though her tone sounded more like a question than a complaint.
—I saw how peacefully you were sleeping and thought you deserved a good rest —Vlad replied, nodding slightly as he walked toward the bath, unbuttoning his shirt to cool off.
He could feel Daenerys' eyes on his back and smiled mischievously.
—You're free to look and touch as much as you want, my dear. After all, I'm your husband.
—I might just do that... —Daenerys chuckled, surprisingly playful, though a bright blush rose to her cheeks.
Vlad couldn't help but laugh. She was quite adorable.
After having breakfast with his wife, he began planning the best path to the Iron Throne. With or without him, Westeros would soon plunge into war —he knew it well. King Robert would die, and soon after, Ned Stark would suffer the consequences of his own foolishness. If he started a war now, he'd become the target of every realm.
And while Vlad trusted his skills, that would only mean unnecessary deaths. So instead of following Viserys' delusions of grandeur, Vlad spent the next few days ignoring him entirely, making it clear that he was not a priority and would only be dealt with when he decided. Only then.
He also left clear instructions to his men: if the "beggar king" dared threaten or strike Daenerys, they were to cut off his hands without hesitation. It wasn't about love or duty—it was simple decency. She was his wife now, and under his protection.
But beyond that, Vlad had more important matters to focus on. His priority was to take control of Slaver's Bay and its forces; only then would the conquest of Westeros be truly feasible. So there he was, seated before a map, charting his first moves.
—What are you doing? —Daenerys asked as she approached, observing the parchment spread across the table.
—Trying to decide the best place to begin —he answered, eyes still fixed on the map.
—To reclaim the Iron Throne? —she asked, sitting beside him and resting her hand on his arm without hesitation. The gesture surprised him. It seemed they grew closer with each passing day. Not that he disliked it—it was just unexpected. Then again, Daenerys had grown attached to Khal Drogo quite quickly in another timeline.
—Not exactly —Vlad corrected—. We need more men for that. I'm figuring out where to find them.
He didn't mention that his true goal was to conquer Essos. It would be far harder than any feat he had achieved before, but if he succeeded, claiming Westeros would be almost trivial.
—So you need more men? Maybe some Unsullied? Or are you planning to recruit more Dothraki? —Daenerys asked, clearly interested.
Vlad nodded.
—Yes, that's the plan. In truth, reclaiming your throne isn't all that difficult. Just a few people and specific houses need to be dealt with, and you could rule with little trouble.
—I see... —she murmured, though her expression grew uncertain—. I don't think Viserys will like that. He wants you to march now.
Vlad let out a low laugh that quickly turned into full-blown laughter.
—If he wants it now, he's free to ride alone to King's Landing and try killing them all himself —he said with a mocking tone.
Daenerys tried to suppress a smile but still made an attempt to defend her brother.
—He is your king —she tried to argue—. It's his birthright.
Vlad looked at her with amusement.
—If I ever kneel, it'll be in bed, pleasuring my wife —he said with a sly grin, deliberately shifting the topic.
Daenerys blushed again, though this time it was accompanied by a soft giggle. Vlad's expression softened, and lifting his hand, he gently caressed her face.
—You have to understand something, Daenerys —he said, looking her in the eyes—. Nothing in this world is earned by right. Power is taken, not given.
She didn't answer right away, taking a moment to absorb his words.
Several weeks later, as Vlad walked toward Illyrio's mansion, he overheard a conversation between the magister and the prince. Of course, being a vampire, he could hear them from the other end of the building without issue.
—He's not keeping his promises! —Viserys practically screamed—. We should be marching to King's Landing! I should already have my crown!
—He's trustworthy... or at least, that's what my sources say. Perhaps he's just planning his victory, my king —Illyrio tried to soothe him.
—I don't care. He's taking too long —Viserys snapped impatiently—. We're going back to the original plan. I'll marry Daenerys off to that other Khal, Drogo, and I'll get ten thousand soldiers. We'll kill that insolent bastard and give his khalasar to Drogo, who will then serve me. Frankly, it's the best plan. I'll get more men and eternal loyalty. I'm a genius—just as expected of the future king of the Seven Kingdoms.
At that moment, Vlad casually walked into the room, pouring himself a glass of wine with perfect composure.
—Well… it is a very clever plan, but tell me… who exactly is supposed to kill me?
Both men snapped their heads around so fast it was a miracle they didn't break their necks.
Vlad smiled in amusement before pointing at Viserys.
—You? —he asked mockingly—. Not a chance. You can barely talk and walk at the same time.
—How dare you! —Viserys hissed, his face burning with fury.
—Or maybe the Unsullied guarding this mansion? —Vlad mused, sipping from his cup—. At least they can fight… but I sincerely doubt you believe they'd be enough.
—I am your king! —Viserys shouted, desperate to regain control.
—Or maybe you expect Illyrio to fight me? —he added, glancing at the trembling fat man—. I don't think so… look at him, he's about to have a heart attack.
—I would never attack based on a suspicion... —Illyrio stammered, still shaking.
—Or perhaps you plan to send Jorah Mormont? —Vlad chuckled—. Please, tell me that isn't your best idea.
Viserys opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but Vlad moved in a blink, closing the distance between them with inhuman speed. Before the prince could react, he was already standing before him, leaning just enough to lock eyes.
—Fall.
Viserys felt his body betray him. His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. His limbs no longer responded, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Vampiric compulsion was a gift shared by Vlad and all his progeny, though not as convenient as some tales portrayed. It wasn't mere hypnosis—it was an absolute command, the imposition of his will over another's. And while the body obeyed without question, the mind remained trapped, forced to witness its betrayal. The worst part was it couldn't alter memories, making it a crude but, in this case, perfect tool.
Vlad sighed and drew the Scarlet Witch, resting it casually at his side as he looked down at the crumpled prince with disdain.
—I am a Khal. I bow to no one —he said coldly—. Consider this the end of our alliance. I won't kill you just yet… out of courtesy for giving me such a wonderful wife.
He turned to Illyrio, whose sweaty skin betrayed his terror.
—I'll speak to my wife about your fate, Viserys. You plotted to sell her like a common whore and have me murdered. Frankly, it's almost poetic… you'll die for the same reason you did in the other timeline: your own stupidity.
With insulting ease, Vlad grabbed him by the neck and dragged him like a sack of garbage. Before leaving, he cast one last look at Illyrio, offering a warning with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
—I hope you don't try anything foolish, or you'll find out why they call me the Impaler, Illyrio. You really don't want me as an enemy.
As he spoke, he traced a sharp nail gently along the magister's cheek, leaving a thin line of blood behind. Illyrio went pale, nodding frantically.
Satisfied, Vlad exited the room, dragging an unconscious Viserys down the hallway toward his camp. He wanted to kill him then and there. But he didn't want an angry wife.
So he would speak to Daenerys about his punishment. Perhaps she would sentence him to death, as in the original timeline… or maybe choose a lesser punishment, like imprisonment. Either way, Viserys Targaryen would no longer be a problem.