After lunch with Illyrio, Viserys encountered Daenerys on his way back to his room. She was sitting on a stone bench in the garden, waiting.
She seemed to have been there for a while, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow from the strong sunlight.
Viserys greeted her first, waving for her to come closer. "Daenerys, come here. What are you doing? Are you feeling better?"
Daenerys noticed her brother was smiling, looking to be in good spirits. "Almost completely better."
She approached, glancing at the gardener pruning the plants, a copper collar around his neck.
"He's one of Governor Illyrio's slaves." Annie, the handmaiden, had told her earlier.
Daenerys cautiously drew near and began to speak to her brother in a low voice. "I asked Annie, the handmaiden, today. She said the master of the house arranged for her to serve me. Why is he being so good to us?" she whispered. "What does he want from us?"
Daenerys had learned long ago in exile that such lavish treatment didn't come without a price.
"Don't say that, Daenerys," Viserys replied in the same soft tone, his brow furrowing slightly. "He's a supporter of the rightful king, and he knows that one day I will reclaim the throne. He won't forget those who helped him in his time of need."
Viserys noticed that Daenerys was still limping slightly, her gait still a little awkward. However, she seemed unconcerned, which surprised Viserys. Normally, a sprained ankle would require a week or two of rest.
He couldn't help but wonder if Daenerys had deliberately twisted her ankle because of something he had said that day. But such a thought seemed too far-fetched for a timid little girl. So Viserys attributed it to Daenerys' inherent strength of character.
After all, she would be the Mother of Dragons one day.
But the current Mother of Dragons was just a girl afraid of saying the wrong thing, and she fell silent at his words. Yesterday's show of affection from her brother felt like a dream. Now, when the throne was mentioned, Daenerys feared provoking his anger. Just like before.
"My dear sister, one day we will reclaim our homeland." Viserys often promised her this, sometimes his hands trembling as he spoke. "Think of the jewels and silks, Dragonstone and King's Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms. They were all stolen from us, and we will have them all back." Viserys seemed to live only for that day to come.
The words "king" and "reclaiming the throne" were like a prayer, always on Viserys's lips. If the throne were a god, Daenerys thought Viserys was far more devout than the Red Priests who sometimes chanted prayers when lighting the night fires.
But when Daenerys asked for details or said something that displeased him, her brother would fly into a rage.
"Today is a great day, Daenerys," Viserys said, his good mood seemingly still intact. He was eager to share his joy, but he never said what he had actually done, just kept laughing to himself. "Historians will write about it when they record my dynasty."
Viserys's fanaticism made Daenerys feel uneasy, and she didn't respond.
Viserys didn't seem to notice. He took Daenerys's hand and helped her back to her room, making sure she rested her sprained foot to avoid any lasting effects. He didn't want the future Mother of Dragons to become a cripple with a limp.
Even though the diligent maids and the elusive butler were nowhere to be seen in the hallways, Viserys insisted on putting on a show. He tried to share his "joy" with Daenerys, starting to tell her the story of "The Conquest of Aegon," which he had told countless times before.
Daenerys lay on the bed, just listening, occasionally offering a response.
Viserys was in high spirits and didn't stop until the sun set, when he reached The Field of the Kneeling.
He could clearly feel that Daenerys wasn't interested, but he still wanted to tell the story, and tell it enthusiastically. He felt it was the only way to fully express his "joy."
Viserys certainly understood the principle of moderation, but he was more worried that he had acted too maturely in front of Illyrio today.
Illyrio was a difficult man to deal with. It was hard to read the emotions on his face. He didn't mind downplaying himself in verbal sparring, and was mostly affable. The emotions he occasionally revealed were also hard to tell if they were genuine. This man frequently probed with his words, forcing Viserys to be extremely cautious.
Viserys mostly didn't know if his flamboyant performance had really convinced the other party. He could only cover up his emotions with his flamboyant performance. At least in the overt conversation, he thought he and Illyrio had a back and forth.
Observe his words, watch his actions.
Next, he still had to see the actions Illyrio took to verify.
At dinner, Viserys's voice became hoarse. So, Illyrio simply exchanged a few pleasantries and then let the siblings do as they pleased.
Viserys used fatigue as an excuse to enter his room. With nothing to do, he first started fiddling with the Dragonbone Necklace that had lost its effect, and then continued his day-to-day workouts quietly in the room.
Finally, before going to sleep, he went into the toilet to feel the small Dragon Scale on his chest.
He had roughly figured out that it took about a day to replenish the consumed magic, and that the scale, composed of pure magical elements, could have its manifestation and concealment controlled mentally.
Simply put, the dragon scale was a magical construct that was an outward manifestation of his elemental magic. Viserys could conceal the elemental magic that made it up in his liver by manipulating the flow of magic.
Viserys thus speculated that if he were to transform into a dragon in the future, the elemental magic making up his dragon body might also be gathered in the liver, horns, and wings – the most important magic gathering points of a dragon's body – in the same way. In other words, could he become a Dragon-Human Hybrid?
Ugh. Viserys imagined what that would look like. In the end, he still felt that the giant dragon form was more suitable. After all, the dragon form had three heads, and he could hardly imagine himself with dragon wings on his back and three heads, or with three kinds of elemental horns on his head – what a strange image that would be.
Of course, he was still far away from that kind of worry.
After another short burst of Dragonflame exhausted his magic, Viserys came out of the bathroom, washed up briefly, and went to bed.
He still needed to verify the exact time it took to recover his magic and experiment whether exhausting his magic would unknowingly expand his magic capacity.
In the following period, Illyrio indeed did not appear again. Viserys didn't know if he had really set off for the Seven Kingdoms, but it was best if he had.
The journey from the Eastern Continent to Westeros was not an easy one. Although the "Narrow Sea" had the word "narrow" in its name, it was not a small strait, but an ocean as vast as Earth's Atlantic. Pentos was considered close to Westeros, but it would take at least half a month for a round trip by the sailboats of this world.
With Illyrio gone, the pressure on Viserys lessened, and his taut nerves relaxed somewhat. He was pleased with the development space he had created for himself.
The following days were uneventful.
Viserys basically ate more, exercised more—a healthy and strong body was the premise for everything.
He took more walks, made more records, wandered the courtyards, remembered the details of the environment, remembered the people who appeared in the courtyards, remembered their faces, and occasionally inquired about their names, identities, and duties—these might not be used, but when needed, he couldn't be ignorant.
The rest of the time, he would find Daenerys to cultivate their relationship, but he was really not used to this feeling, because in front of Daenerys he had to put on an act, couldn't tell her the truth, couldn't be unkind, and couldn't be too kind. Moreover, most of the time Daenerys was silent and full of worries—finally, he seemed to have found a way to get along, which was to borrow the storybooks placed in the living room of Illyrio's courtyard and tell his sister the strange stories popular in Pentos.
He felt it was still effective. Daenerys relied on him to tell stories to relieve her boredom while she was recuperating in the room, and after she could walk normally, she also began to follow him every day to walk together.
It's just that she was too silent.
Viserys of course also knew that Daenerys didn't like to talk because of the suppression of the original self. Including himself, he had to admit that he was not a good brother either. In front of the questions he couldn't answer, although he wouldn't be as angry and beat her as the original self, he always prevaricated and changed the subject. He never asked about his sister's worries, and even welcomed it—this meant that Daenerys couldn't guess his thoughts, eliminating the possibility of his sister being too clever and affecting his plans.
As for Viserys telling Daenerys stories like she was a child, it was fine for the first few days. She had expectations and enthusiastic reactions, but after a while, her interest waned, and she began to subtly resist Viserys treating her like a child. However, every time he told a story, Daenerys would still cooperate and respond.
It was clear that, compared to boredom and being treated like a child, she was more afraid of her brother reverting to his former terrifying self. But the girl was still distressed. The change in her brother didn't make her happy for long, because she soon discovered that, compared to scolding and violence, contempt, perfunctoriness, evasion, and distrust were equally painful, like a cold knife.
Viserys found that the girl reacted strongly to phrases like 'Don't say that,' 'Don't talk nonsense,' and 'We'll talk about this later.' Usually, saying them meant the end of the conversation. So, he began to widely apply this set of phrases when he wanted to leave her side.
Viserys tried to make his life boring and tedious, hoping to lower the vigilance of the watchers.
Of course, he hadn't forgotten the other dragonbone artifact that Illyrio had given him, and to be honest, he was thinking about that thing all day long, but the surveillance in the courtyard was strict.
He didn't know where the vault was, nor would he be foolish enough to ask around.
And since he could wait for an opportunity to seize it by force, he didn't consider the extremely risky act of theft.
Becoming a dragon Viserys certainly wanted to, but he knew even more clearly that he couldn't be impatient. Anyone could say the words "patience and forbearance," but how many people in the world could truly do it?
He must be patient.
Illyrio's ship spent seven days and nights on the Narrow Sea before finally sailing into Blackwater Bay.
The little birds delivered messages faster than ships, so Illyrio soon met his contact at the port of King's Landing. He first stayed in an inn, resting from the afternoon until nightfall, when someone knocked on his door.
Then Illyrio went out. There was no one outside the door, but he knew this was the signal.
So he dressed himself up a bit and left the inn, making his way through the streets and alleys until he reached a coastal dock shrouded in the night, where a fishing boat was waiting. After he boarded, the boat began to set sail, navigating the waters near King's Landing without any lights. The boatman was a strange figure whose face was indistinguishable, and he didn't say a word to Illyrio until he disembarked.
The boat sailed to a deserted beach. The boatman helped Illyrio off the boat, then rowed back out to sea on his own, beginning to cast his net skillfully.
Illyrio was already very familiar with this place. After landing, he walked along the beach for a while until he reached a low, jagged slope of rocks. He quickly found a dark cave entrance among the rocks. He cautiously looked around, confirming that no one was nearby, before crawling into the cave.
The location of this cave entrance was very particular. From here, it led upwards to a precipitous cliff, and then further up to the rugged terrain of the cliff top. And a hundred meters away from this rugged terrain, the tall walls of the castle stood there—that was the Red Keep.
How complex the secret passages of King's Landing were! Every time Illyrio came here, he couldn't help but marvel at how Varys remembered such a complex terrain.
Illyrio found a torch in a hidden crack at the mouth of the cave. He lit it and began to walk inside. The cave walls were initially formed of natural stone. There were many forks in the cave, and if one took the wrong path, the cave would become narrow and cramped, making it difficult to pass through.
Fortunately, Illyrio remembered the route. He walked for a long time and finally, after a fork in the path, he found traces of human craftsmanship. Decayed wooden planks with a musty smell pointed the way.
The end of the path led to a huge cavern. It had stone walls on all sides, but there was wind here, a cold wind blowing down from above.
Illyrio's torch flickered in the wind.
He found a climbing ladder on one of the stone walls and began to climb. The fat governor hadn't exercised so vigorously in a long time, and he gasped as he climbed.
Illyrio rested on the stone steps beside a large, black well. The well was twenty feet wide, and its pitch-black opening looked like it led straight to the center of the earth. He had climbed up from the bottom.
The flickering light of the torch dimly swept across the dark walls carved by human craftsmen. Many large stones were embedded in the curved walls as stairs, spiraling upwards. Illyrio knew he was truly in the intricate underground passages beneath the Red Keep.
A light from a torch shone above Illyrio's head, a tiny spark like a candle flame, slowly descending towards him.
The torch's owner was a light-footed fellow. Only the increasingly close light of the torch and his tall shadow cast on the wall indicated that he was quietly approaching.
Soon, Illyrio heard the voice of the torchbearer echoing by the well: "It seems you've already learned what a pain it is to deal with a king, old friend."
....
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