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[needsnoheadsman]

Hello, you've reached--[sounds of fumbling and muttering before Robb's voice comes in:] Robb Stark--leave a message after the beep.

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[emgoldened]

[It's already been said: one is a Stark, the other a Targaryen. He must know that his word means nothing, nor will it ever. And, in return, Viserys hopes he's smart enough (though Viserys thinking of smarts...) to know that Viserys doesn't take it to mean anything at all. There will never be anything among them that makes their word binding.

That much, he must believe, is known throughout all the world.]

I have noticed this Asgard seems fond of them. One I traveled with is here as well. [One who has issues against the Starks as well. The only one who could be seen as worth a Targaryen's time.] The Usurper's son is in my same house. Our rooms are joined by a washroom. Joffrey, he calls himself. [And it's horrible. Of course it is. If Eddard is dead because of him, perhaps that is more reason for Robb to, what? Tolerate Viserys? Listen to him? Settle in this false truce because he is forced to deal with Joffrey in such a horribly close capacity?] He has told me much, though his word is something I find difficult to believe. I know my sister enough that she will never believe the word of a Baratheon. I taught her our history. She knows they are worthless and vile.

[He knows of Loras. He has seen others, but what of them? What do they know?]

Who else from Westeros has found their way here? I have heard of a Ser Loras Tyrell. He has spoken to my sister. Who else? Do you have names? Would you give them to me?

[He should be demanding them. It is his right. He should not have to ask, to plea. He will not beg. Not again. But for his sister, for her to remain ignorant about that which he's spent a lifetime refusing to tell her?

He will play as nicely as he can. For a while.]

[needsnoheadsman]

Overly fond of us, I would think. Else why drag so many of us in to fight this war?

[His sisters, his brothers, his mother--all of them dragged in, conscripted to fight a war not theirs. Robb mislikes that greatly, but what else can he do? And at least he's reunited with them, here. At least he's alive.]

We can agree on this much, I suppose: not to trust Joffrey Baratheon's word. [Savor this moment of pity and shared kinship, Viserys, it's not likely to come around again.] He'll break it at the nearest opportunity, I can assure you of that. I'd tell you to avoid him, but if you share a washroom, I have a feeling that would be impossible.

Why do you ask? [Because that list of names includes all of his family, here in Asgard, and Robb hasn't forgotten the tales of the Mad King.]

[emgoldened]

["He eats the toothpaste" Viserys wants to toss out. Something, anything to make Joffrey look worse. But he thinks on it a moment and realizes it could be seen as something like asking for pity. Something close to begging, and he won't let that happen just for the sake of making Joffrey look bad when that's not the worst he could do. If he was just an idiot, then it would be fine. But he's had Robb's father beheaded—that is nothing in comparison.]

I ask because I would have words with them about what they might say to my sister. [Ask, ask, ask. Such a terrible word for a king to be forced to use. It always came to begging (or something like it) in the end for him, and that hadn't been enough to save him. Terrible indeed.] Your family is here. If you would prefer me not to speak with them, I understand. [He'd prefer not to speak with any of them, he can't imagine a Stark doesn't feel the same.] Although, your mother must surely know more than you.

One member of your family would be enough, if you would give your word to make sure it spread to them before they might say too much, and too many of them.

[His word. Hah.]

And to not call me what you called me before.

[Beggar King, of course.]

[needsnoheadsman]

[He doesn't trust Viserys, not one bit. He's on shaky enough terms with the man's sister already, and Daenerys, as far as he can tell, isn't mad. Viserys, though--well, Robb doesn't truly know him, beyond rumors, and those aren't always the most reliable. He's earned his pity, certainly, for sharing a washroom with Joffrey of all people, because that is a fate Robb would never wish on anyone, but trust?

Yeah, right. He trusted the wrong people, once, trusted them to keep to their word and died because of it, and he's not like to make that same mistake again.]

She does. But how would I know for certain that you would only have words with her, and with the rest of the names you wish to have from me? All I know of you comes from what little I can remember of the rumors about you and your sister. [sorry bro your sister didn't mention much about you last time they met here]

I won't call you what I did before, I can tell you that much. [As much as Robb is mistrustful of him, he's not about to piss off a madman, or a man close to it.] I can't promise anything about the rest, though.

[emgoldened]

[A madman or a man close to it—he's not sure which he is anymore. Oh, he'd definitely gone mad. Threatening to carve out the supposed stallion that would end up mounting the world in front of the whelp's father, in front of Dothraki screamers, in front of other khals than Drogo, what else would that be other than pure insanity? Would she have let it happen if she knew the truth of their family, or would she have recognized it for what it was and, perhaps, exiled him from exile? Would he be alive if he'd told her everything about the Targaryen history?

But, no. No. He couldn't do that to his family. What if, though?]

If you are worried I might take it upon myself to hurt them, to run them through with a sword, I must tell you know that will not happen. I have no experience with them. I lived in exile. I had little time to do anything other than make sure my sister I were fed and clothed. [It's a weakness he hates admitting and partially a lie, but he follows it with something close to fact. There wasn't much he could do for a rather long time, running from place to place as they were. The last year before he sold his sister, he'd had time...just not the inclination. He could have asked Ser Mormont, but he hadn't the inclination, either. He'd had the opportunity, he just hadn't taken it. He doesn't know Arya at all, but even she would have more experience with a sword than he, and at such a young age. Hopefully he doesn't find that out.] The words I would have mean to address those rumors and the ones that must run rampantly throughout Westeros and need not make their way to my sister. There are things she must never hear. I will not have her being upset because I could not take the initiative to keep certain things from her, especially not with the burden of being in a different place. It is too much. I will not have it.

[I am no threat to you and yours, but your words are a threat to me and mine. Said to a Stark.

Last dragon indeed.]