Daenerys smiled and said, "Ser, I am very grateful for your counsel, and I will need it from you in the future as well. Please feel free to offer me advice at any time, and I promise to listen carefully."
Jorah Mormont, with his face lowered, raised his eyes, placed his hand on his chest, and bowed slightly.
Daenerys Targaryen's lips curved into a smile, and she nodded slightly.
She turned her head to look at Viserys Targaryen, who had a disdainful expression.
"Brother, Ser Jorah is not a wanderer; he is the Dragonstone Princess's guard. I have entrusted my safety to him."
Ser Jorah suddenly looked up at Daenerys. His pupils contracted a few times, and his lips moved, but no sound came out.
"Ha!"
Viserys straightened his upper body, his face somewhat contorted: "Daenerys, my dear sister, I didn't mishear, did I? Are you contradicting a King?"
He stood up and shrieked: "I am King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Viserys III, the one true King of the Iron Throne!"
By the end of his speech, Viserys's voice seemed to have turned into a roar.
Daenerys's eyes welled up. When did her brother start becoming like this? She could no longer quite remember... It seemed her brother only became irritable after selling their mother's queen's crown.
Daenerys remembered the dress Governor Illyrio had given her. She had never seen such a beautiful dress and couldn't resist putting it on immediately, feeling so happy at the time... But not long after, her brother angrily sought her out, directly tearing the dress off her body, and her maid, who had cared for her so well, ultimately lost her life.
From then on, unless it was something her brother personally brought, Daenerys never dared to accept gifts from others again. Illyrio also had to send things through her brother... until she met Count Glynn.
Many things happened later, and she still clearly remembered the feeling at the time; the constant fear, day and night, made her secretly think of escaping her brother many times.
But Viserys was her only family, and Daenerys couldn't bear to leave her brother.
Because they were family, Daenerys, no matter how scared she was, would carefully stay by her brother's side. What if it were someone else?
In the past, when her brother got angry, Daenerys's heart was filled only with fear, but now she felt more helpless. Would the people of the Seven Kingdoms love King Viserys?
Daenerys subtly wiped away the unshed tears with the back of her hand.
"Brother, no one denies that you are our King, I promise you!"
Viserys's cold smile deepened, and his voice was full of mockery: "My dear sister, I am growing more and more doubtful of your promises."
Daenerys sincerely said, "Viserys, you only need to wait less than a year. Can you leave it to me? You will certainly get the troops to reclaim the Iron Throne."
"Iron Throne..."
Viserys muttered, his face full of smiles: "My dear sister, of course I believe you. A King will keep his word, but don't make me wait too long!"
He glared hatefully at the expressionless Ser Jorah and then said, "Sooner or later, I will show you what happens to those who betray a King."
After Viserys left, Daenerys rubbed her forehead, sighing softly, "Ser Jorah, you have never betrayed. I apologize to you on behalf of Viserys."
Daenerys was physically and mentally exhausted, a weak smile on her small face.
After a moment of silence, Jorah solemnly said, "Your Royal Highness, I did not mind. Mormont never wavers."
When Daenerys rose from her chair, her body swayed due to the intense pain. She clutched the armrest tightly and then extended her hand to refuse Jorah, who was about to help.
Daenerys wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and said in a relaxed tone, "I never thought marching would be so tiring."
Jorah glanced at Daenerys, a worried expression fleeting across his face.
"Your Royal Highness, it's always like this at first. You will adapt very quickly. You are much stronger than most people I have seen."
Night.
Daenerys couldn't take a bath because her thighs were peeling, and her body was aching, so she had to wipe herself with a wet towel with the help of her maid.
Daenerys curled up on the bed, silently shedding tears.
During the day, Daenerys had to be the strong Dragonstone Princess, but at night, when she was alone, she couldn't help but cry.
Daenerys had planned everything well, but she now understood that thinking and doing were completely different. Her heart was actually very hesitant, unsure if she could persevere, or how much longer she could endure.
The night was deep, but Daenerys was in too much pain to sleep.
"Daenerys, don't be afraid..."
The man she longed for was lying beside her at some unknown time. He was gently comforting her, he was gazing deeply at her... His eyes held only her.
Daenerys's heart was both shy and secretly delighted. Her body suddenly no longer felt pain, only a deep sweetness remained.
Daenerys reached out her hand. She wanted to caress the man's cheek, and then... she would bravely reciprocate his love, and they would intertwine, never to be separated again.
Just as Daenerys's fingers were about to touch him, everything around her suddenly shattered, and she was standing before a giant dragon.
There was no bed, no Glynn here, only Daenerys and the dragon. She clenched her fingers and folded them tightly into a fist.
The dragon's scales were as black as the dark night, slick with blood... For some reason, Daenerys felt it was the blood she had shed these past few days.
The dragon's eyes were two pools of molten lava. It suddenly opened its mouth, and flames shot out. Watching the surging fire spray forth, Daenerys heard the dragon's song, so she spread her arms, embraced the flames, and let it completely consume her.
Daenerys could clearly feel her muscles charring black and necrotizing, her blood boiling and evaporating, yet she felt no pain. Instead, she felt strong and robust, as if reborn!
It was faintly dawning.
Daenerys opened her eyes. She blinked, and then, as if thinking of something, she suddenly turned her body to look at the other side of the bed.
Daenerys stared blankly at the empty bed for a while. As expected... it was just a dream? Her small face was filled with disappointment.
When she got up from the bed, Daenerys habitually frowned, but she didn't feel any unbearable pain.
Daenerys found that the pain in her body seemed to have disappeared. She couldn't help but walk back and forth in the room. Daenerys was delighted to find that not only had her injuries healed, but her body had also become stronger than before... Her soft thighs had become exceptionally firm, and she no longer worried about riding a horse.
Red Keep, Duke Eddard strode out of the Prime Minister's Tower with Jory.
Today was the fifth day since Duke Eddard arrived at the Red Keep. In these past few days, Duke Eddard had been overtly busy with the tournament, and secretly, he had already begun investigating Prime Minister Jon's affairs.
Duke Eddard's serious face bore an undisguised weariness. Duke Eddard was very unaccustomed to the hypocritical ways of the Red Keep, which made him feel mentally exhausted. He deeply missed the straightforwardness of the North.
No matter what, Duke Eddard had never thought of retreating. A Direwolf would not give up halfway just because it encountered difficulties.
Duke Eddard casually surveyed the bookshelves lined with books and various medicines.
Pycelle bowed tremblingly: "Duke Eddard, I didn't expect you to come in person. I am at your disposal at any time."
Duke Eddard nodded slightly. He wondered whose disposal Maester Pycelle would be at?
"Maester Pycelle, please sit down."
Pycelle was old and decrepit, and Duke Eddard was about to ask many questions; he didn't want any accidents to occur midway through.
Pycelle first nodded in thanks, as if greatly moved by Duke Eddard's kindness.
After Pycelle sat down, Duke Eddard began, "I heard that Prime Minister Jon borrowed a book from you not long before his death? I would like to see which one it was."
Pycelle's fingers in his sleeve twitched, and he said, "That's a book written by Maester Melion, which is all about the genealogies of various great families. I'm afraid you'll find it very boring."
Duke Eddard sat opposite Pycelle and said, "It's alright, I just want to see it."
Pycelle did not try to dissuade him further, his cloudy eyes swept over the bookshelf, and he said, "I think I put it right here. Because the content is too boring, I didn't pay much attention to it. I'll have a servant help me find it in a bit, and I'll send someone to the Prime Minister's Tower before dark."
"Pycelle, you are truly thoughtful."
"It is a great honor to serve you..."
After Maester Pycelle finished speaking, he coughed a few times, and his breathing became slightly heavier.
Duke Eddard's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he said, "Pycelle, if your body still permits, I would like to hear about Prime Minister Jon's condition before his death. I heard that you were responsible for his treatment."
Pycelle sighed, paused, and then said, "Duke Eddard, Prime Minister Jon's death is a heavy blow to us. I am happy to tell you about the circumstances of his passing."
Pycelle laboriously straightened his back and looked at Duke Eddard. The jeweled necklace around his neck jingled softly.
He shook his head thoughtfully and said, "To be honest, Prime Minister Jon was often restless before. I worked with him for so many years... I thought it was the affairs of the kingdom that troubled him. Everyone knows he carried the entire kingdom on his shoulders, at least that's what I thought at the time... Now I dare not make a hasty judgment."
Duke Eddard's heart was inevitably saddened when Jon was mentioned; he had indeed toiled for over a decade.
"Maester Pycelle, I want to know what illness he actually had? I heard his death was very sudden."
Pycelle spread his hands, his voice both sad and helpless: "Although Prime Minister Jon had a serious illness before, he showed significant improvement under our careful treatment. However, one morning, he suddenly experienced pain all over his body and couldn't even get out of bed. Scholar Kemon thought he merely had a cold in his stomach, but Jon's condition continued to worsen, so I had no choice but to personally intervene, but the gods did not grant me the medical skill to save him."