As she fell asleep, the terrible memories she thought were past flooded back.
Viserys glared at her fiercely.
"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"
She was adrift on the sea, thunder and rain raging above. Alone in a small boat, she could be swallowed by the waves at any moment. Far ahead of her was a dark speck. The distance made it seem tiny, but she could still make out an island with a dragon-shaped castle on it. Viserys stood there, towering like a giant. Unable to steer the boat, she could only let the waves carry her there.
"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?"
Viserys waved his hand, his fists hammering down on her like a storm. His fingers, like snakes, bit into her flesh, pinching, twisting, and distorting it. He screamed, "Dragonstone, King's Landing, the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms—all were taken from us, and we will take them all back!" He howled frantically, digging his nails into her skin. Scarlet blood oozed from the scratches on her skin.
"Awaken the dragon, huh?"
She watched the boat drift closer to the island with the dragon castle. The closer she got, the smaller Viserys's figure grew. The blows against her felt like a breeze. Had she forgotten the pain? The storm seemed to subside, the surging waves dwindling. She saw a door painted red. "Home," she whispered softly. "That's not home."
"Awaken the dragon, huh?"
"Family."
She saw half of Viserys's face smiling at her, two sounds emanating from his throat simultaneously.
"The dragon."
"Where family is."
Her shoulders ached as Viserys smiled at her from the front. She drew closer, the island with the dragon castle just ahead. She mustered her courage and stood up. Viserys gave her an approving look.
"Home,"
those harsh words vanished on the wind.
"Home is where family is."
The boat, needing no steering, drew closer. Viserys opened his arms to her.
"No!"
she heard from behind. She turned back. Behind her lay a phantom, lofty hall. Vague ghosts lined the sides of the hall. They vaguely made out the faded garb of ancient kings, clutching pale, flaming swords. Their figures were ethereal, their hair some silver, some golden, some as bright as platinum, their eyes the hues of opal, amethyst, tourmaline, and emerald.
"No!" they cried. "No!"
She glanced back, puzzled. The ghosts' eyes were filled with reproach, looking at her like a little girl who had done something wrong.
The boat needed no steering; she was drifting further and further away from them, closer and closer to Viserys.
She felt lost.
Then, the boat stopped, resting on the sea. Her brother, Viserys, smiled at her in front of her, and behind her, a gaze of reproach that left her bewildered.
"Did I do something wrong?"
she asked.
No one answered.
Darkness enveloped her.
Dots of purple starlight streamed from her, swallowed by the ethereal, deep vortex of darkness. When she regained consciousness, she was outside the increasingly familiar darkness.
Her body was burning. She lowered her head, seeing more sparks scattered across her body. Where they were, they emitted a searing heat, penetrating her skin and flowing through her bloodstream.
"This means your bloodline is awakening. Don't forget, we are descendants of the True Dragon, and our blood burns with a raging fire."
This was her last thought before she faded into nothingness.
She woke suddenly with a taste of rust in her mouth, a sign that she had bitten her lip at some point in her dream.
She remembered the bizarre dream and, upon waking, reflected on it carefully.
The reproachful gazes of the ghosts left a deep impression on her. "Did I do something wrong?"
she asked herself.
She couldn't comprehend what that meant.
She sat up in bed and leaned against the headboard. Outside the window, the night deepened, a few stars hanging high in the sky. A salty sea breeze blew into the room, making the night as cool as water.
Only then did she realize that the pain in her shoulder, which had been tormenting her sleepless nights, seemed less severe.
The next day, on her usual after-lunch stroll to the pavilion where the sound of waves could be heard, Dany summoned the courage to whisper her dream to Viserys. For the first time, she saw a look of panic on Viserys's face that hadn't been there since the lightning strike.
But Viserys quickly concealed his panic. "Tell me the truth, Dany. Have you dreamt of me being cruel to you in your past dreams? Have you
dreamt of ghosts?" "This is the first time I've dreamt of ghosts," Dany answered cautiously. "I'm...scared." Her courage was growing, but she couldn't help but glance away as she spoke these words. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, and only added when she saw Viserys was listening intently. "I'm afraid of you. I don't know why, but the past few times...it's always been...suddenly, a wave of fear surged in my heart like the morning tide, only to disappear the next day like the evening tide after the dream."
"Oh." Dany saw a heaviness in Viserys's face she had never felt before. He opened his mouth, as if about to say something, but the words came out as "...oh."
Dany couldn't help but panic. "What's wrong?"
"I'm tired from walking," he said suddenly. "Let's just sit here and rest for a while, shall we?"
Viserys sat down beside the pavilion, expressionless. He looked out at the Narrow Sea, his gaze gazing far into the horizon, lost in thought.
Viserys had once thought the arrival of the red comet would be his opportunity, but now it seemed it might be his doom.
Looking back, were the purple dust he'd devoured in his dreams truly dragon spirits? Were they truly just dragon spirits?
Were those "not-me" aspects of Daenerys's dreams truly brought to her by the remnant of the dragon's bones, rather than the magic lurking in her Targaryen blood?
He knew that in the novels, when Daenerys was cursed by the witches' black magic, she had a similar dream—the ghosts of ancient kings.
That was the moment when Daenerys was about to become the Mother of Dragons. Unlike the sloppy portrayal in the TV series, in the novels, Daenerys experienced a dream resembling a Kryptonian story. Since then, upon waking, Daenerys has been in a mysterious state. She vaguely believed that some mysterious force had driven her to perform a ritual that resembled a magical sacrifice. Driven by this mysterious force, Daenerys threw herself into the flames, eventually hatching three dragons.
Were those ghosts in her dreams just hallucinations? Was it a dead object? A magical illusion triggered by the awakening of magical powers?
Or was it, due to a lack of magical power, forced to slumber, a magical projection cast through the bloodline by a mysterious being?
Viserys had to speculate. If this magical power was rooted in his bloodline, based on the connection between his bloodline and the mysterious being, then when he entered the body of this last Targaryen, devouring his soul and memories, taking over his body, did that mysterious being know?
When he gained power by entering Daenerys's dreams, consuming the purple dust, did that mysterious being know?
Was his actions disrupting the mysterious being's original plan?
The answer was obvious.
Viserys had suspected that Daenerys had a "divine gaze"—assuming it was a god. But because nothing happened, he thought the risk was not great, and he thought the God seemed to condone his actions, or that the God was oblivious.
Now it seems that the God was not condoning or oblivious, but simply unable to interfere through reality.
The goddess Hylia's mercy made Viserys careless in the world of ice and fire.
He was clearly frantically hinting at Daenerys to stay away from Viserys, but for some reason, his wish was unfulfilled. The purple dust Viserys had ingested must have somehow influenced his mystical connection with Daenerys.
Honestly, until just now, Viserys had been gloating over the fact that yesterday he had allowed Daenerys to touch two dragon bones containing dragon souls, successfully activating their magical power.
He had envisioned collecting dragon souls taking his time, as there was still plenty of time before the Red Comet arrived. Even if the number of dragon bones containing dragon souls was small—one tenth, one twentieth, or even one hundredth, even if only one out of a hundred was usable—he could remain patient.
But now, it seemed he couldn't afford to sit back and relax.
From the moment he arrived in this world as Viserys, he had unknowingly made an enemy.
Was reconciliation possible?
The thought made Viserys want to laugh.
Not only was there no place for reconciliation now, but if he wanted to become a dragon, he couldn't do without Daenerys. Would she be willing to give him Daenerys?
There was a long silence. Dany felt uneasy because she couldn't confirm Viserys's emotions. She couldn't help but ask boldly, "What are you thinking about? What's wrong?"
"Dany," Viserys heard her uneasy question. He turned his head and said seriously, "The road ahead will be difficult. The road ahead is full of dangers and thorns. Will you walk with me?"
She didn't understand, but she heard another deeper meaning in it: "What?"
"It's okay, give me your hand." Viserys took her hand, "Let's go, keep moving forward."
.....
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