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Part 19
— The fuck?! — Bruce could barely contain his laughter, staring at Viserys. His face took on a look of pure astonishment, his brows raised, as though he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke of his life. Bruce, still trying to make sense of what was happening, suddenly realized that this “skinny nerd” seriously thought he was someone important and had the nerve to try and decide his fate. He snorted again, leaning back slightly to hide the irony in his expression, but it was useless.
But Viserys, oblivious to the mocking glint in his “sister’s” eyes, stood there, arrogantly puffed up, seeming even more self-important. He looked down at her as if expecting admiration, not open laughter.
— Hold on, hold on, bro, are you, uh… serious? — said Bruce, barely suppressing a smirk that radiated pure confusion and mockery. He looked Viserys up and down one more time, as though trying to figure out how this scrawny “dragon” thought he’d control his life and even dictate whom he’d marry… let alone the absurdity of him, Bruce, being someone’s… wife?! Even the idea sounded insane.
— Seriously?! — Bruce repeated, raising an eyebrow and maintaining his smirk. — You’re here talking about thrones, marriage, dragons, and I… I don’t even know who you are. — He smirked, pretending to try to recall something important. — Look, maybe we missed the part where we got acquainted? Tell me, who the hell are you, and why are you acting like some great ruler?
— I am your brother! — Viserys burst out in outrage, his voice shaking with anger. — The rightful heir to the Iron Throne, the last dragon of House Targaryen! And you, sister, are bound to respect me and follow my orders! Enough of this madness!
He exhaled heavily, as if trying to regain control, and, ignoring Bruce’s smirk, sharply gestured toward the doors.
— Servants! — he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. — Prepare my sister for her meeting with her future husband. Bring the finest cloth, jewels, and everything needed for a proper attire. I want her to look dignified, like a true Targaryen.
Bruce was now barely containing his laughter. The thought of being “prepared to meet her husband” seemed so absurd he nearly burst out laughing again. He stretched lazily, savoring the warmth of the water and watching the bustle around him unfold.
'Oh god… this is all such ridiculous crap,' Bruce smirked, barely holding back laughter at the absurdity of it all. The servants hurried to obey Viserys’s orders, unrolling fabrics, bringing jewelry, as if each little detail in this scene was crucial. His ironic smile seemed innocent enough, but it hid much more beneath it.
'But it looks like I don’t have a choice,' he thought with irritation, realizing that he might actually have to play along with these bizarre rules. In this world, his fate seemed prewritten, and resisting only led to new “transitions,” each one rougher than the last and seemingly pushing him further into the past. Perhaps, to finally escape, he needed to play along, at least a little. Maybe by following the script, he’d find an opening to finally return to his old life.
His gaze lingered on Viserys, whose face shone with smugness and confidence that he had everything under control. Bruce allowed himself a wider smile, tucking away this strange, rebellious resolve. 'Alright, dragon-boy, I’ll play along. But don’t be surprised when those pathetic little wings of yours get clipped.'