Chapter 179: Long Meng
Viserys's fist fell upon Daenerys, and just as it always had, the blows began again.
She endured his beating, so terrified she was helpless. She wanted to run from him, but her limbs refused to obey her commands. He struck her again, beating her to the ground.
"You woke the sleeping dragon," he screamed, punching and kicking her. "You woke the dragon! You woke the dragon!"
Daenerys finally found an opportunity to break free, and she began to flee. She ran into a long hall, high stone arches soaring above her. She didn't dare look back; she just ran as hard as she could. Far in the distance, she saw a door. It seemed small from so far away, but she could see that it was painted red. She quickened her pace, her bare feet leaving bloody prints on the cold stone floor.
At last, she reached it. Just as she was about to push the door open, the hateful voice rose from behind her once more. "You wouldn't want to wake the sleeping dragon, would you?"
Before Daenerys could reply, Viserys blocked her path again.
"You little bitch, you woke the dragon!" he howled, reaching out to grab her.
Daenerys mustered all her courage and gave him a violent shove, sending him stumbling to the ground before her.
The next moment, Viserys screamed. Daenerys looked closer and saw a steel crossbow bolt, as thick as two of her fingers, buried deep in his chest.
The setting sun streamed through a high window, illuminating him as he curled on the floor. "Save me," he whispered. He stretched a hand out to her. "Save me, sweet sister. Save me." His voice was hoarse, like the hissing of a snake.
Daenerys hesitated for a moment, then reached her own hand toward his.
"You woke the sleeping dragon!" His voice thundered in her ears again.
Startled, she snatched her hand back, threw the red door open, and ran.
Behind the door was a knight in black armor. A three-headed dragon fashioned from rubies was set into his breastplate, and he sat astride a warhorse as black as midnight.
"You are here, my sister," the knight said softly.
*Sister? He called me sister?* Daenerys subconsciously took a step back, her heart clenching with the familiar fear of waking the dragon. But she soon realized the knight before her was not Viserys. Her brother had never possessed such a heroic air.
This was Rhaegar. Her eldest brother. The last dragon, the greatest of knights.
At the thought, a measure of calm settled over her.
But in the next moment, a giant clad in silver-white armor appeared before Rhaegar. He wore a helm crowned with antlers and wielded a massive war hammer, and the two began to fight.
Daenerys wanted to help, but she knew nothing of battle. There was nothing she could do.
So she could only watch, helpless, as the antlered giant sank his war hammer into her brother's breastplate, shattering the ruby dragon and scattering the fragments across the floor.
Rhaegar fell to the ground, dying.
Daenerys hurried forward to check his wounds, but when she lifted his visor, she saw the face of Viserys.
"You woke the sleeping dragon!"
She was knocked to the ground again, blood covering her thighs as she moaned with her eyes closed. But suddenly she heard a ferocious tearing sound, followed by the roar of a majestic fire consuming wood. A crackling noise came from deep within the flames.
It was as if someone was answering her prayers.
Daenerys opened her eyes and saw that Viserys was gone. A huge pillar of fire rose around her, and in the heart of the inferno stood a great dragon.
It slowly turned its head, and its eyes, molten pools of lava, met hers.
Daenerys awoke with a start, shaking and drenched in sweat.
"It was just a dream," she breathed, a wave of relief washing over her. And in the next moment, she felt a sense of sudden, profound clarity.
There would be no more waking the dragon. No more Viserys.
"I am the last of the dragon's blood. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone. The blood of Aegon the Conqueror flows in my veins," Dany whispered to herself. "But… what should I do? I know nothing."
As she spoke, she suddenly remembered Ian's forwardness yesterday when she had been so weak. Her face, which had just returned to its normal color, turned crimson once more.
"What are you thinking?" Dany reached up and held her hot cheek. "You are his queen. He is your knight. You should not have indulged his presumption!"
*But a queen must always marry,* a voice in her head reminded her. *If the Usurper's assassin hadn't killed Viserys, I would be at Khal Drogo's wedding by now, wouldn't I?*
Daenerys looked out the ship's window, her gaze filled with an endless expanse of blue ocean. The sky above was exceptionally clean and bright, and the reflection of the sun danced on the water, making the waves sparkle like jewels.
"But now… it seems I don't have to marry him." Dany recalled the giant who had terrified everyone and felt a small, secret flicker of happiness in her heart, though she knew she shouldn't.
She knew that being freed from her marriage to Drogo was a direct result of Viserys's death, and that was certainly nothing to be happy about.
But she simply couldn't control the feeling.
Only then did she realize that her feelings for Viserys, aside from the thinnest thread of affection, had been woven entirely from fear. His death had frightened her far more than it had saddened her.
*As long as I never admit it,* she told herself, and filed the thought away, classifying it as a secret to be kept deep within her heart.
Having settled this, Dany's mood lifted considerably. She opened her mouth to call for Dorea to help her change, but the moment the first syllable escaped her lips, she remembered. She was on Ian's ship now. None of the servants Illyrio had given her were here.
The thought of Dorea made her think of the techniques the girl had taught her for pleasing the horse king. As she dwelled on it, the image of Dorea's face in her memory slowly morphed into Ian's.
Daenerys quickly realized what was happening. She shook her head, trying to banish the strange images, and glanced at the clothes lying at the foot of her bed.
She decided then to challenge herself with the most difficult task she had ever undertaken in her life: dressing herself.
Ten minutes later, Dany walked out of her room.
"There's nothing so difficult about it," she muttered. After successfully putting on the dress, which was a bit cumbersome, she felt a surge of confidence. It felt as if the long, perilous road ahead had become just a little less daunting.
She decided to go have breakfast with Ian. She needed to find out from him what exactly had happened yesterday, and to learn of his plans. After all, he was now the one in charge of her restoration.
"Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty."
As soon as Dany walked out of her room and into the main cabin, she saw the men salute her. She responded to each of them with a smile.
"Your Majesty, are you feeling better?" a man named Rohr asked as he approached.
"I am well, ser," Daenerys replied with a smile, though her heart fluttered with nerves. This was her first time speaking to a vassal as their queen, and her first time in years having a conversation with a Westerosi knight other than Ian. She was terrified of doing something improper.
But the Targaryen pride in her bones would not allow her to show weakness. She decided to end the conversation quickly. "Where is Lord Ian?" she asked, deliberately using a more formal title. "Please tell him that I wish for him to come and dine with me."