Pentos, on market day, was like a pot of hot oil, boiling over from early morning.
Illyrio woke up just after the hour of the Mao, changed into his dark brown coarse wool coat, tucked dried lavender into his inner pocket, and then felt the dragon-sigil necklace beneath his collar—the coolness of the metal through the fabric was like a calming pill.
He skipped breakfast, clutching his last copper starls, and rushed to the spice market; by the time he reached the entrance, the sun had just climbed above the rooftops, and the market was already packed with people.
Stalls lined both sides of the Golden Avenue, colorful fabrics fluttered in the wind, and the shouts of vendors rose and fell: "Fresh saffron! Ten copper starls a small bunch!" "Freshly baked honey bread! Still warm!" Nobles' servants in silk, porters carrying goods, commoners with children in tow, jostled shoulder to shoulder on the street, making it hard to find a place to stand.
Illyrio found a corner near a spice stall and settled there, his gaze fixed on the end of the Golden Avenue—that was the direction from which Illyrio's procession would come.
His palms gradually grew sweaty, not from the heat, but from nervousness.
What if Viserys was there? What if the guards mistook him for an assassin? What if Daenerys didn't believe his identity at all?
Countless "what ifs" spun in his mind; he subconsciously reached for the dried lavender in his pocket, and the rough feel of the petals calmed him slightly.
"Make way! Make way!"
A crisp jingle of bells came from afar, accompanied by the sound of hooves and the shouts of guards.
Illyrio immediately straightened up and squeezed to the front of the crowd—at the end of the Golden Avenue, a procession was slowly approaching.
At the very front were four guards in silver armor, holding long spears, pushing the crowd aside as they cleared the way; in the middle was an elaborately decorated carriage, its compartment wrapped in dark red velvet, and the wheels carved with Illyrio's family crest; following the carriage were a dozen Dothraki, wearing leather vests, with long braids and scimitars at their waists, riding tall warhorses, their fierce eyes scanning their surroundings, causing passersby to retreat.
It was Illyrio's procession! Illyrio's heart leaped, his gaze fixed on the carriage door.
The carriage stopped in front of the spice stall, and a fat man in a purple silk robe descended from it—it was Illyrio Mopatis, his belly round, a smile on his face, as he called out to the stall owner: "Give me two bags of the best cinnamon! The freshest new stock!"
Immediately after, the carriage door opened again.
First to descend was a blond man, wearing a silver silk coat with a dragon-sigil embroidered on the collar, yet unable to conceal the impatience in his brows—it was Viserys!
After getting out, he immediately paced impatiently, muttering: "Hurry up! Don't waste time, the Dothraki are still waiting at the Manor!"
Then, Daenerys descended.
She wore a sky-blue silk dress, its hem reaching her ankles, a silver belt around her waist, and the silver necklace Maro had mentioned around her neck.
Sunlight spilled onto her golden hair, as if plating it with gold; her skin was very fair, her lips pursed, and there was a hint of timidity in her eyes, clearly unaccustomed to such a lively scene.
After getting out of the carriage, she subconsciously followed behind Viserys, her hands tightly clutching her skirt, like a startled fawn.
It was her!
Illyrio took a deep breath, clutched the dried lavender in his pocket, and, taking advantage of Illyrio haggling with the stall owner and Viserys turning to scold the Dothraki, quietly squeezed out of the crowd and walked towards Daenerys.
"Your Royal Highness," he lowered his voice, trying to make his tone gentle, "Forgive my presumption, but I have something that might interest you."
Daenerys was startled, turning abruptly, her eyes full of confusion when she saw Illyrio.
She took a step back and asked softly, "Who are you?"
Viserys heard the voice and immediately turned to look, seeing Illyrio in a coarse wool coat, not looking like a noble, his face instantly darkened: "Who are you? How dare you speak to my sister so casually!"
He reached out to push Illyrio, who quickly took a step back, pulled out the bunch of dried lavender from his pocket, and offered it to Daenerys.
"Your Highness, I know you like lavender," Illyrio's gaze fell on Daenerys's necklace, "just as you like this silver necklace—it was left to you by your mother, wasn't it?"
Daenerys's eyes widened sharply.
This necklace was indeed her mother's Relics, and few people knew about it besides Viserys and Illyrio.
She stared at the lavender in Illyrio's hand, then looked at his face, and asked hesitantly, "You... how do you know all this?"
"Because I am also a member of the Targaryen Family," Illyrio quickly lifted his collar before Viserys could react, revealing the dragon-sigil necklace, "Look at this—this was left to me by my mother, she was the wife of The Mad King's brother, your aunt.
My name is Illyrio Targaryen, and I am your cousin."
"Targaryen?" Viserys grabbed Illyrio by the collar, his eyes fierce, "You're lying! The Mad King's brother died long ago, where would he have a son? I think you're a spy sent by the Lannister!"
His grip tightened, and Illyrio felt like he was suffocating.
"Lord Illyrio!" Illyrio quickly called out to Illyrio, who was still haggling, "Please judge fairly! I have proof of my identity!"
Illyrio heard the shout, turned his head, and seeing Viserys clutching Illyrio's collar, quickly walked over and pulled Viserys away: "Viserys, don't be impulsive! Let's talk calmly!"
He looked Illyrio up and down, his gaze falling on the dragon-sigil necklace, his eyes slightly narrowed, "This necklace... it is indeed a token of a collateral branch of the Targaryen, I saw similar ones in my youth."
Viserys still wanted to argue: "Illyrio, don't be fooled by him! He's just a liar!"
"Whether he's a liar, we'll know by asking," Illyrio looked at Illyrio, "Child, you say you are a Targaryen, then tell me, what is your mother's name? What was her relationship with The Mad King?"
Illyrio breathed a sigh of relief—all this information was in the original owner's memory.
He composed himself and said, "My mother's name was Lyra Targaryen, she was the wife of The Mad King's brother, Vaeron.
Uncle Vaeron died in the Usurper's War, and my mother fled to Pentos with me, passing away from illness three years ago.
Before she died, she made me promise to find you and Your Royal Highness, and to assist you in reclaiming the iron throne."
He deliberately mentioned "assist" to satisfy Viserys.
Indeed, Viserys's expression softened somewhat, but he still harbored suspicion: "What proof do you have that what you say is true?"
"Before my mother passed away, she left me a letter," Illyrio said, "The letter contained many family anecdotes, including The Mad King's preferences in his youth, and also about Miss Lyanna Stark.
If Your Highness wishes, I can show you the letter."
In truth, he had no letter at all, but he knew Viserys cared about these family anecdotes, and just bringing it up would temporarily stabilize him.
Viserys indeed took the bait; he frowned and said to Illyrio: "Illyrio, let him come back to the Manor with us, I will personally inspect his letter.
If he is a liar, I will make him pay the price!"
Illyrio smiled and patted Viserys on the shoulder: "Don't be so hot-headed, one more Targaryen is always good for our plans."
He then looked at Illyrio, "Child, are you willing to come back to the Manor with us? If your identity is real, we will accept you."
Illyrio felt a surge of ecstasy—he had succeeded!
He had not only met Daenerys but also gained the opportunity to return to the Manor with them.
He quickly nodded: "I am willing! Thank you, Lord Illyrio, thank you, Your Highness!"
Daenerys stood by, watching Illyrio, her eyes less confused and more curious.
She looked at the dried lavender in Illyrio's hand, then at his dragon-sigil necklace, and said softly, "You... are you really my cousin?"
"Yes, Your Royal Highness," Illyrio showed a gentle smile and offered the bunch of dried lavender to her, "This bunch of lavender is for you, I hope you like it."
Daenerys hesitated for a moment, took the lavender, her fingertips touching Illyrio's hand, and she quickly pulled back, her cheeks slightly flushed: "Thank you."
Just then, a slight stir came from the crowd.
Illyrio subconsciously looked back, only to see a person in a black cloak standing not far away, staring at their side; when Illyrio looked back, the person immediately turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Was it a Lannister spy?
Illyrio's heart tightened, but he quickly relaxed—now that he was with Daenerys and Viserys, once they returned to Illyrio's Manor, his safety would be assured.
Illyrio clapped his hands and said to everyone: "Alright, the cinnamon is bought, let's go back to the Manor!"
He was the first to get into the carriage, and Viserys snorted and followed him in.
Daenerys, holding the lavender, walked to Illyrio's side and said softly, "You... you can ride in the carriage with me."
Illyrio paused for a moment, then nodded: "Thank you, Your Highness."
He followed Daenerys into the carriage; the compartment was spacious, with soft carpets, and fruits and wine in the corners.
Daenerys sat by the window, holding the lavender, occasionally sniffing it, the timidity in her eyes gradually lessening.
The carriage started moving, and Illyrio watched the market outside the window gradually recede, his heart filled with emotion—from transmigrating to now, in just a few short days, he had gone from a broken house in the slums to being by Daenerys's side, one step closer to his goal of changing destiny.
But he knew this was just the beginning.
Viserys's suspicion, Illyrio's calculations, the Dothraki's savagery, and the impending marriage alliance were all challenges he needed to face.
He looked at Daenerys; she was gazing out the window, the sunlight spilling on her profile, making her appear exceptionally quiet.
Illyrio silently said in his heart: Daenerys, this time, I will not let you suffer the hardships of the original story.
I will help you hatch dragons, help you build an army, help you reclaim the iron throne, and even help you avoid those fatal traps.
The carriage traveled along the Golden Avenue towards the Manor, its wheels rattling over the cobblestone road.
Illyrio knew that a new journey belonging to him and Daenerys was about to officially begin at Illyrio's Manor.