"Is that so, steward?"
Illyrio wasn't one to jump to conclusions. It was only the second day, and there had been many "abnormalities" involving the Targaryen siblings in his courtyard. He had spent considerable time listening to the accounts of the maid, Annie, and the steward. Their surveillance had been generally well-executed, except for one detail: when Viserys tried to harm Daenerys, the maid Annie had quickly intervened.
According to Annie, Viserys was hurting Daenerys, cutting her hand with a dagger and drinking her blood, intending to do something "untoward."
The steward answered carefully, "I didn't see it, Master. I only heard a noise. After opening the door, I saw him holding a dagger, and the young lady was trembling beside the bed, as if she had been bullied."
Illyrio narrowed his eyes, trying to imagine the scene.
According to intelligence, Viserys did privately abuse his sister, which wasn't entirely unexpected. But the matter of using a dagger to cut her finger and drink her blood...
Illyrio was a little uncertain, but that didn't stop him from warning the presumptuous maid, "You shouldn't have appeared so early, Annie. Even if he was going to do something to his sister, you should have waited until things had developed to a certain point. Until then, it's their private affair."
Annie replied, "I'm sorry, Master. I thought you needed the girl to remain intact." Her primary task was to get close to Daenerys and gain her trust.
Illyrio suddenly remembered that he had heard from certain sources he couldn't mention that the Targaryen "Mad King" would scratch and bite his queen during that sort of act, leaving her covered in blood.
Had Viserys inherited his mad father's...
"..." Illyrio frowned. "Annie, tell me, is she still a virgin?"
Illyrio was a little worried about what Viserys might have done to his sister, Daenerys, where Varys's little birds couldn't see. After all, based on the intelligence he'd gathered and his own observations, Viserys's behavior towards Daenerys was, well, a bit… perverted.
Annie replied, "Most likely, Master."
"Most likely?" Illyrio was displeased with the answer. "Find a way to confirm it, Annie."
Annie replied, "Yes, Master."
Illyrio waved his hand, signaling her to leave.
After Annie left, Illyrio began to ask another question: "Why do you think he brought up the Prince of Pentos?"
The steward pondered for a moment before answering, "I don't know, Master."
Illyrio had his own thoughts and didn't really expect an answer from the steward. He changed the subject: "From what you've seen, how skilled is he in combat?"
"He's thin and weak," the steward thought, then replied, "I could easily take the dagger from him."
Illyrio asked again, "Didn't he play with that pendant again today?"
"No."
Illyrio didn't ask any more. "Continue observing."
Daenerys didn't know when she fell asleep, having endured a whole day of confusion and fear.
She began to dream.
At first, she dreamt of the house with the red door in Braavos, her childhood.
There, Ser Willem Darry was old and ill, but very kind. Her brother, Viserys, often had a smile on his face. At night, he would let her climb into his bed and tell her stories of the Seven Kingdoms, painting a picture of a beautiful life after ascending the throne.
But those things quickly vanished, becoming blurred.
Ser Willem had died. She and her brother were driven from the house with the red door, then hunted from city to city by the assassins of the Usurper, who never showed themselves. They begged for help from governors, magnates, and merchant princes, even flattering them for food. After selling her mother's crown, the mockery and humiliation from the outside world twisted Viserys. He became increasingly cruel and violent towards her.
Then she dreamt of lightning and thunder, followed by the visions of the day Viserys was struck by lightning: thunderstorms, flames, frost, roaring, tumbling clouds, and a giant three-headed beast.
Then, a sudden plunge into darkness. She was in a boundless abyss, and an unspeakable, vast silence coiled around her. A tide of coldness surged into her heart.
It was fear.
In a daze, Daenerys felt her body tremble, but she couldn't be sure. Her senses had entered a strange state; she felt as if she wasn't herself.
Her "body" seemed to be beyond her control.
Only her senses gradually adapted to the darkness.
Floating, secret purple dust surged from her body into the darkness. The purple dust mixed with the deep darkness, forming deep, mesmerizing, illusory vortices in the void. The deep darkness was like a curtain; even deeper darkness mixed with the purple dust that gushed from her body, drifting in the bottomless vortices.
Something was being drawn from her "body" bit by bit, pulled into the depths of the vortex.
If she could still control her throat, she would have screamed. Or perhaps she had screamed, but the sound vanished into nothingness.
An immense terror consumed her entirely, obliterating any other emotion beneath its weight.
Time passed, she didn't know how long.
Gradually, her body began to feel anew. Her soul emerged from the strange feeling of not being herself. Now, in a third-person observer's posture, she was beyond the boundless, dark abyss, watching the starlit, purple dust within the abyss gradually dissipate.
As the purple dust completely dispersed, only an endless dark curtain remained. It stretched infinitely upward, infinitely downward, infinitely to the left, infinitely to the right, boundless. She was deeply shocked and instinctively reached out a "hand" to touch it.
Then she saw her "hand," dotted with smoldering sparks.
Suddenly, everything plunged into the void.
Viserys suddenly opened his eyes, disbelievingly reaching a hand into his chest.
He just had a dream. In it, a small wisp of purple smoke appeared before him. The instant he saw it, he instinctively knew it was the Dragon Soul he'd been desperately seeking. Before it could react, he swallowed it whole.
Then, he briefly glimpsed the magical ocean hidden within him.
That ocean was overflowing with magical elements, but a barrier blocked his access. He instinctively knew it was the world's barrier, and because of it, he couldn't project that immense power into himself.
It was indeed the Dragon Soul.
The tiny Dragon Soul he'd consumed triggered a surge of magic. The world's barrier and the magical element ocean within him briefly connected, allowing him to squeeze out a single drop.
A scale.
Viserys felt it. A hard, scale-like keratin had grown on his chest.
From that hard keratin, Viserys felt a trace of scorching power. He knew it was the elemental magic of the Ancient K'lorok King from another world.
Instinctively, Viserys realized he could exhale this trace of magic, as easily as breathing.
Dragonflame.
Viserys forced down the surge of excitement in his chest. He climbed out of bed, pretending he needed to use the restroom. He walked into the small room, closed the door, and squatted down.
Whew.
He exhaled.
The air around him suddenly grew warm. A tiny flame flickered, erupting from Viserys's mouth.
It vanished in a flash.
It was indeed Dragonflame.
Even though it only lasted for less than a second, and even though this small burst of fire exhausted all of his current magic, Viserys wasn't discouraged.
That wisp of flame meant he had taken his first step.
Viserys reached for his chest. The scaly keratin had receded, seemingly disappearing because the tiny Dragonflame had consumed all his magic.
But Viserys could feel a trickle of magic slowly replenishing. It wouldn't be long before a dragon scale would be full again.
Viserys realized that when he devoured that wisp of Dragon Soul, squeezing out a drop of water from the ocean of magic, he was like a mage and sorcerer in D&D. He was using the Dragon Soul of this world as a medium to obtain a dragon scale mana slot to fill with the elemental magic from another world that he held within.
Now, Viserys could completely call himself a Dragonfire Sorcerer—even though he only had one mana slot, and could only spit out a tiny wisp of flame like a parlor trick.
He lay back in bed.
Viserys closed his eyes and began to consider the current situation.
First, the source of the Dragon Soul.
Ninety-nine percent of it came from the Dragonbone Pendant. During the day, the pendant's contact with Daenerys caused the Dragon Soul to disappear, presumably entering her body, while he, upon contact with Daenerys's blood, ultimately devoured the Dragon Soul through a dream. This guess was rather metaphysical, but it made sense. However, he couldn't be certain yet; he needed an opportunity to experiment again to confirm it.
[Next, the relationship between the Dragon Soul and magic.]
He thought about it, and it was somewhat similar to a medium and the projection of power. The elemental magic within him originated from another world, requiring a medium like the Dragon Soul to project the magic of that world into this one. The Dragon Soul he gathered and the amount of magic he could obtain were roughly equivalent. The Dragonbone Pendant likely only held a wisp of a soul.
[What can I do with this little bit of magic?]
The magic was too little. Moreover, when he breathed fire just now, he could clearly feel that his body was currently mortal flesh and blood, unable to withstand the high temperature of the Dragonflame gathering in his throat and spewing from his mouth. Therefore, a large proportion of the magic drawn from his body was dissipated in the instinctive body protection.
Before transforming back into a dragon's body or constructing magic organs with sufficient magic, this method of using magic was inefficient and wasteful. He wasn't even sure if the brief, tiny Dragonflame could harm anyone.
In the current situation, this bit of magic seemed to be useless.
[Possible surveillance.]
Before, he could afford not to care about prying eyes. He had no secrets worth hiding, and could even use it to bluff and create a false impression. But now, with secrets to conceal, this issue couldn't be ignored.
This led to a new question.
Do I absolutely have to be a dependent?
Thinking it over, Viserys couldn't help but scratch his head. This wasn't something he should be pondering right now.
Having transmigrated into the last of the Targaryens, he had no choice. His actions drew the attention of many. To attempt to break away before gaining sufficient strength... the consequences were foreseeable.
Assassins and plots – not all of them might come from King Robert, nor were they necessarily meant to kill him. They could also be aimed at forcing him into a certain situation, compelling him to make a specific choice.
New schemers – at least for now, he could glean some understanding of them through memories from the original story, like Illyrio.
Viserys' life was destined to be intertwined with intrigue and calculation.
There were only two ways out of this life: become strong, or die.
....
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