After being brought onto the ship by Ser Willem, Elia was too exhausted to speak.
Still, she stayed awake until she saw Rhaella settle her child properly before finally falling into a deep sleep herself.
When Rhaella suggested giving the mute boy some money, Willem informed her that the boy had already left. Viserys realized that the so-called mute boy was the young stablehand he had met earlier.
It was no surprise that he knew about the secret passages, considering he once served Varys.
If they needed to contact him in the future, they could do so through those hidden routes.
Having him remain in King's Landing could be a valuable asset, possibly even granting Viserys access to part of Varys' information network.
As for using him for assassination missions, Viserys did not have high expectations. After all, you get what you pay for, and a few gold dragons were hardly enough to buy someone's life long loyalty.
The sails billowed as the ship cut through the waves.
Rhaella's gaze toward Viserys was filled with a complicated and hard-to-describe light.
Only one word echoed in her mind: Dreamwalker.
The Targaryen family was not originally native to Westeros. Their ancestors came from an ancient and mighty empire — Valyria.
At its peak, the Valyrian Freehold commanded over a thousand dragons and ruled most of the eastern continent.
The Targaryens were but one of the forty dragonlord families of Valyria. Before the empire's collapse, a woman named Daenys appeared among the Targaryen ancestors.
She dreamt of the Doom of Valyria. At her urging, House Targaryen relocated to Dragonstone, thereby escaping the catastrophe.
Daenys became known as "Daenys the Dreamer."
Compared to dragonriders, dreamwalkers who could foresee calamities were infinitely more valuable.
Now, Viserys, who seemed to possess the powers of a dreamwalker, filled Rhaella with hope for House Targaryen's revival.
Viserys, unaware of Rhaella's thoughts, was focused on what to do once they reached Dragonstone. At this moment, House Targaryen was not yet completely cornered.
There remained a Royal Fleet at Dragonstone — about one hundred and fifty to one hundred and sixty ships strong.
From his memory, when Daenerys was born, a great storm would strike, destroying this fleet completely. House Targaryen would lose all their remaining strength, and Dragonstone would eventually fall.
But now, knowing what was to come, Viserys had the chance to prevent this disaster.
However, ships needed sailors to function.
Although there were still around twenty thousand troops stationed on Dragonstone, not all of them would be willing to remain trapped on an isolated island with the Targaryens.
As time passed, loyalties would waver.
Even if he could ignore the changing hearts, the island's supplies would not last forever.
Relocation was inevitable.
But where could they go? The habitable lands of the known world were long since carved up by powerful factions.
The Free Cities of Essos were locked in endless wars, as evidenced by the countless mercenary companies scattered across the continent.
Was he supposed to take a hundred ships and become a pirate?
That would mean abandoning any dream of restoring his house's glory, sinking them into the mud.
Moreover, scattered ships would never rally the hearts of men.
Truth be told, Viserys did not care much for the Iron Throne itself. The real threat lay in the Others and the Long Night that would arrive decades later.
To survive, he would have to carve out new territory. He had to revive his house.
In short, Viserys had no choice.
Fortunately, the situation was already much better than in the original timeline. At the very least, the reputation of being a Dreamwalker could become a powerful tool to inspire loyalty.
......
In just two or three days, little Rhaenys had fully recovered.
As a lively child, she often ran about the deck.
One day, while wandering as usual, she suddenly spotted through the thick sea mist a giant dragon spreading its wings, as if preparing to take flight.
"Dragon! Dragon! Dragon!"
The little girl was so stunned that she could only point at the sight and cry out to her maid.
The maid, too, was startled.
At first glance, the enormous black figure looked like a real dragon. Some of the more educated attendants even thought that the dragons of House Targaryen had returned.
But soon they realized it was not a living creature, but a statue.
Dragonstone's construction techniques were inherited from Valyria. They seamlessly fused stone sculptures with architecture.
What Rhaenys had seen was the highest tower of Dragonstone — the Tower of the Winged Dragon.
As their ship drew nearer, more and more dragon statues came into view.
Some spread their wings as if preparing to soar, some lowered their heads as if about to unleash fire, and others stood still, staring into the distance.
For a moment, it felt as if the age of dragons had returned.
Even Viserys could not help but feel a surge of emotion as he looked at the statues. But reality soon brought him back — how was he supposed to hatch dragons?
In the original story, Daenerys' success in hatching dragons was a mixture of magic and miracle.
Moreover, she had hatched fossilized dragon eggs. Real, viable dragon eggs still existed in places like Braavos and within House Hightower.
Logically speaking, hatching actual dragon eggs should be easier than hatching fossilized ones.
He would have to find a way to acquire them.
Their ships sailed forward. Viserys could already see Dragonstone's harbor. Over a hundred warships filled the docks, with soldiers moving about on deck.
Thanks to the essence of the "Warrior Archer" he had absorbed, Viserys' eyesight was extremely sharp.
Though the fleet was sizable, the ships were visibly aged.
Barnacles clung thickly to their hulls, clearly having not been cleaned for a long time.
It cast doubts on the fleet's true fighting strength. Soon, the island's defenders spotted their ships and, after confirming their identities, sent people to welcome them.
Since Rhaegar, the designated heir, was often absent, Dragonstone was administered by an acting castellan and a maester.
The acting castellan was from House Lyke of Duskendale — a man named Lamy. Lamy appeared to be in his fifties, his sharp blue eyes filled with shrewdness.
He was no loyal hound.
The maester was a man in his early forties.
When Viserys, Layla, and their party arrived, they were greeted with all proper ceremony. Black banners bearing the red three-headed dragon flapped proudly in the sea breeze.
"Your Grace, Queen Rhaella. Your Highness, Prince Viserys,"
Acting Castellan Lamy stepped forward and bowed. His manners were courteous enough, but he gave off the distinct impression of a cunning old fox.
Certainly not someone to place blind trust in.
"You have worked hard, Ser Lamy," Rhaella said.
Upon arriving at Dragonstone, her first task was to assess the island's defenses — the number of troops, the food stores, the weapon stockpiles.
Though Viserys was technically the kingdom's heir, matters like these were not supposed to fall under his purview.
However, he had once been a teacher before crossing into this world and understood a fundamental truth: Power did not come from titles, decrees, or crowns.
Power was born from recognition from below — it had to be earned.
The kingdom was now at the brink of survival. As heir, he needed to demonstrate the necessary qualities.
This was no time for modesty. Although his sudden question might seem abrupt, even inappropriate, Viserys spoke up:
"Ser Lamy, why do I not see the banners of House Velaryon or House Celtigar?"
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