Pentos, Magister Illyrio's mansion.
The moment Lynn's consciousness withdrew, the abyss-like indifference in Daenerys's eyes shattered.
Her violet pupils refocused, regaining their usual timidity and confusion.
She gazed blankly at her seemingly timid brother, her mind a complete blank.
What happened?
She only remembered being in the bathroom, and now she was in the bedroom in the blink of an eye?
That part of her memory, it was as if someone had dug out a piece of it.
Viserys watched the fear resurface in his sister's eyes, and he was momentarily stunned.
Immediately, a surge of immense humiliation mixed with anger rushed to his head.
He… he had actually been scared by that girl's gaze?
Scared by this sister, whom he had beaten and scolded at will since childhood, who didn't even dare to speak loudly, scared into taking a step back by a single look?
Ridiculous!
This was an insult to his "true dragon's blood"!
"How dare you look at me with such eyes?!"
Viserys's face was twisted with fury.
His otherwise handsome face now looked especially ferocious.
He suddenly raised his hand.
"Slap!"
A crisp slap echoed through the entire room.
The immense force made Daenerys's head snap violently to one side, and five distinct finger marks instantly appeared on her fair cheek.
Her ears rang, and a metallic sweetness filled her mouth.
Daenerys was stunned by the blow.
She covered her face, looking at her brother in disbelief.
She didn't understand.
She hadn't done anything, so why was she being hit again?
"You have awakened the sleeping dragon's wrath!"
Viserys stepped forward, grabbing Daenerys's chin and forcing her to look up.
Viserys's fingernails almost dug into Daenerys's flesh, and the madness and brutality in his eyes sent a chill through Daenerys's entire body.
"Look at me! Daenerys!"
"You're just a whore! I'm the one who let you live to this day! I'm the one who lets you wear silk and drink hot soup!"
"Tonight, you must please that barbarian! Make him willingly give his army to me!"
"Even if it means letting everyone in his army, even all the warhorses in his army, take turns with you, I'd be willing!"
"Do you understand?!"
The vicious words were like the sharpest razors, cutting into Daenerys's heart, slice by slice.
Daenerys dared not resist, nor did she dare to cry.
Under the gaze of those mad eyes, she could only nod desperately like a puppet.
"I… I understand."
"Hmph!"
Seeing her return to her docile and obedient self, the evil fire in Viserys's heart finally subsided.
He released her, wiping his fingers on her beautiful silk gown with disgust, as if he had touched something filthy.
"Remember your place."
Viserys elegantly adjusted his collar, resuming his arrogant "Dragon King" posture, then turned and strode away.
He left all the mess and indecency in the room to the frail girl behind him.
The door slammed shut.
Daenerys's body went limp, and she slid down the wall onto the cold marble floor.
She hugged her knees, burying her face deep within them, and the tears she had suppressed for so long finally fell silently.
Her cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
The sleeping dragon's wrath.
It was the sleeping dragon's wrath again!
Since childhood, she had grown up under the shadow of this phrase.
Any slight displeasure, any rebuttal, would be met with her brother's punches and kicks, and this very phrase.
She was fed up.
Truly fed up.
But what could she do?
Viserys was her only family, the only hope for the restoration of the Targaryen dynasty.
He was the true dragon of House Targaryen.
And her birthright seemed to be to help her brother propagate his line.
But now, he wanted to reclaim the Iron Throne, even if it meant marrying her to Khal Drogo.
A barbarian who spoke no common tongue and ate raw meat!
Tears blurred her vision.
After an unknown amount of time.
Daenerys leaned against the wall and shakily stood up.
She walked to the dressing table, wanting to find some ice to soothe her swollen cheek.
At least, she couldn't let the Dothraki Khal see her in such a disheveled state.
However, her gaze was drawn to an open book on the table.
"A Song of Dragon and Fire."
It was her favorite collection of stories, chronicling the heroes and dragons of ancient Valyria.
But now, the book was open to a blank flyleaf.
On it, several lines of incredibly familiar handwriting were written in dark ink.
It was Valyrian.
And it was her own handwriting.
Daenerys's breath hitched.
She reached out a slightly trembling hand and touched the cool page.
She… she didn't remember writing these things.
She leaned closer in confusion, reading word by word.
"The blood of the true dragon should not be sullied in the grass sea."
"Your destiny is not to be the wild king who rides fierce horses,"
"But the true monarch from the Land of Always Winter, who rides three-headed ice dragons."
She stood there, stunned, her heart filled with shock.
Wasn't this her handwriting?
When had she written these words?
She felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest, almost leaping out of her throat.
Daenerys continued to read.
"He shall awaken from the legend of fallen stars,"
"Crossing salty and poisonous seas, bringing the bitter winds and frost of the North."
"With a kiss of ice and snow, he shall awaken the sleeping, burning blood within you."
A kiss of ice and snow… Daenerys's cheek inexplicably flushed.
It was as if the cold words carried some strange warmth.
This was nothing like a warning.
It was more like a love poem.
Her gaze finally fell on the last line.
"The prince is in the West."
The West.
Not the barren grass sea of the East.
But the West, the direction of the Seven Kingdoms, the direction of home.
Daenerys's body trembled uncontrollably.
This was not her delusion.
This was a divine oracle!
It was the oracle written by her Targaryen ancestors, through her hand!
They could not bear to see the bloodline of House Targaryen defiled by a savage horse king!
They had guided her to the true direction, prophesied her true destiny!
A monarch from the North… a prince who could ride three-headed ice dragons…
This thought, like a bolt of lightning, tore through her decade-long dark life!
All this time, she had lived in the cage woven for her by her brother Viserys.
For the elusive Iron Throne, she had to sacrifice everything, including herself.
But this oracle told her.
No.
Her destiny should not be like this!
She was not an item to be traded for an army!
At least one prince would become her beloved!
An unprecedented strength surged from the deepest part of her heart.
Daenerys abruptly closed the book, as if hiding a shocking secret.
She hurried to the mirror.
Looking at the girl in the mirror, whose cheeks were swollen, but whose eyes shone with an alarming brightness.
The fear was still there.
The fear of Viserys was deeply ingrained in her bones.
But in that swamp of fear, something entirely different had already begun to grow.
She gently touched her still burning cheek with her fingertips, then touched her cold lips.
A kiss of ice and snow… What kind of prince would she welcome?
But, she still had to meet the Dothraki Khal tonight.
What should she do?
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