Pentos, Magister Illyrio's Manse.
The moment Lynn's consciousness withdrew, the abyssal indifference in Daenerys's eyes shattered.
Her violet pupils refocused, returning to their usual timidity and confusion.
She stared blankly at her brother, who seemed strangely flustered, her mind a blank slate.
What happened?
She only remembered being in the bath just a moment ago. How was she suddenly in her bedroom?
The memory in between seemed to have been dug out by someone.
Viserys saw the fear resurface in his sister's eyes. He paused, stunned for a moment.
Then, a wave of immense humiliation mixed with rage rushed to his head.
Just now... was I actually scared by this girl's look?
Scared into taking a step back by a sister I've beaten and scolded since childhood, who dares not even speak loudly?
Ridiculous!
This is an insult to the blood of the dragon!
"You dare look at me like that?"
Viserys's face twisted with rage.
His handsome features turned hideous.
He raised his hand sharply.
Slap!
A crisp sound echoed through the room.
The force of the blow snapped Daenerys's head to the side. Five clear finger marks instantly bloomed on her pale cheek.
Her ears rang, and a metallic taste filled her mouth.
Daenerys was stunned by the blow.
She clutched her face, looking at her brother in disbelief.
She didn't understand.
She hadn't done anything. Why was she being beaten again?
"You have woken the dragon!"
Viserys stepped forward, grabbing Daenerys by the chin and forcing her to look up.
His fingernails dug into her flesh. The madness and violence in his eyes made Daenerys go cold all over.
"Look at me! Daenerys!"
"You are just a slut! I kept you alive! I gave you silk to wear and hot soup to drink!"
"Tonight, you must please that savage! Make him willingly give me his army!"
"I would let his whole khalasar fuck you—all forty thousand men and their horses too—if that's what it took to get my army!"
"Do you understand?!"
His venomous words were like razors, carving into Daenerys's heart.
She dared not resist, nor did she dare 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 submissive, obedient self, the fire in Viserys's gut finally subsided.
He let go, 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 haughty "Dragon King" posture, and strode out of the room.
Leaving behind a mess of shame and despair for the frail girl.
The door slammed shut.
Daenerys's body went limp, sliding down the wall to the cold marble floor.
She hugged her knees and buried her face in them. The tears she had held back for so long finally flowed silently.
Her cheek burned with pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
Waking the dragon.
Always "waking the dragon"!
She had grown up under the shadow of this phrase.
Any dissatisfaction, any retort, was met with her brother's fists and this excuse.
She had had enough.
Truly enough.
But what could she do?
Viserys was her only kin, the only hope for the restoration of the Targaryen dynasty.
He was the true dragon.
And her purpose in life seemed only to be breeding heirs for her brother.
But now, to reclaim the Iron Throne, he was selling her to Khal Drogo.
A savage horselord who didn't even speak her language!
Tears blurred her vision.
She didn't know how long passed.
Daenerys finally used the wall to pull herself up unsteadily.
She walked to the vanity, intending to find some ice for her swollen cheek.
At the very least, she couldn't let the Dothraki Khal see her in such a state.
However, her gaze was drawn to a book lying open on the desk.
Songs of Dragons and Fire.
It was her favorite collection of legends about the heroes and dragons of Old Valyria.
But now, the book was open to the blank flyleaf.
On it, several lines were written in black ink, in handwriting she knew intimately.
It was High Valyrian.
And it was her own handwriting.
Daenerys's breath hitched.
She reached out a trembling hand, touching the cold paper.
She... didn't remember writing this.
Confused, she leaned in and read it word by word.
[The blood of the dragon shall not be buried in the Dothraki sea.]
[Your destiny lies not with the savage king who rides the stallion,]
[But with the True King from the Land of Always Winter, who commands the three-headed ice dragon.]
She stood frozen, her heart filled with shock.
Wasn't this her handwriting?
When had she written this?
She felt her heart pounding madly in her chest, threatening to burst out of her throat.
Daenerys read on.
[He shall wake from the legend of falling stars,]
[Crossing the sea of bitterness and poison, bringing the biting wind and frost of the North.]
[With a kiss of ice and snow, he shall awaken the burning blood within you.]
A kiss of ice and snow...
Daenerys's cheek suddenly felt hot.
As if the cold words carried a strange warmth.
This didn't read like a warning.
It read more like a love poem.
Her gaze finally fell on the last line.
[Look to the West, Daenerys. The Prince is in the West.]
The West.
Not the desolate Dothraki sea to the East.
But the West, the direction of the Seven Kingdoms. Home.
Daenerys's body began to tremble uncontrollably.
This wasn't her imagination.
This was an oracle!
It was her Targaryen ancestors, speaking through her hand!
They could not bear to see the blood of the dragon defiled by a savage horselord!
They were pointing her to her true path, prophesying her true destiny!
A King from the North...
A Prince who commanded a three-headed ice dragon.
This thought was like a bolt of lightning, tearing through the darkness of her life.
For so long, she had lived in the cage Viserys built for her.
For that intangible Iron Throne, she had to sacrifice everything, including herself.
But this oracle told her otherwise.
No.
Her fate should not be this!
She was not a piece of merchandise to trade for an army!
There was at least one Prince who would become her true love!
A power unlike anything she had felt before surged from the deepest part of her heart.
Daenerys slammed the book shut, as if hiding a world-shaking secret.
She walked quickly to the mirror.
Looking at the girl with the swollen cheek and eyes that shone frighteningly bright.
The fear was still there.
The fear of Viserys was deep in her bones.
But in that swamp of fear, something entirely different had sprouted.
She gently touched her burning cheek with her fingertips, then touched her cold lips.
A kiss of ice and snow...
What kind of Prince would she meet?
But tonight, she still had to meet the Dothraki Khal.
What should she do?
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