Viserys watched Tyrion, who was lost in a daze. He walked to the tent flap, lifted a corner, and spoke a few words to the guards outside. Then he turned back and sat down again.
"However, before I kill you, there is something I think you should know." Viserys looked at Tyrion with a playful glint in his eyes and said, "Do you know why your father, Tywin, hates you so much?"
Tyrion froze for a moment, not understanding why Viserys would suddenly ask this.
"It is because my father, Aerys II—the one you call The Mad King—slept with your mother, Joanna Lannister." Viserys spoke every word deliberately. "And you, Tyrion, are of Targaryen blood. The same blood as mine flows within you."
These words hit Tyrion like a bolt of lightning. His entire body stiffened instantly; his mismatched eyes bulged, and his mouth hung open, but he could not make a sound.
"No... that's impossible..." finally, he could only mutter.
"Whether it's possible or not, you should know very well in your heart."
Viserys said with a cold sneer, "Years ago your father—and I mean Aerys, not Tywin—had a very intense interest in your mother, Joanna. While Tywin was still in King's Landing serving as hand of the king, Aerys found an opportune time to go to the Westerlands. He stayed at Casterly Rock, and then he got what he wanted. You are the product of that encounter."
"Why do you think Tywin hates you so much? Why does he view you as the shame of the Lannisters? Just because you are a dwarf?"
Viserys continued, "No, it is because he knows you are not his seed. You are my father's bastard, the Targaryen bloodline he loathes most. That he allowed you to keep your life was already an act of mercy."
Tyrion's mind went blank. He remembered the cold gaze his father always gave him, the taunts of 'dwarf' and 'Half-man,' and the undisguised disgust Tywin never bothered to hide. He had always thought it was because of his stature, but it turns out...
"No, you're lying. How can you be sure?" Tyrion suddenly snapped back, asking in a raspy voice.
"Dragons," Viserys said nonchalantly. "Dragons can sense the Targaryen bloodline. During the day, I had those dragons approach you specifically to confirm this. The result was obvious; you indeed have Targaryen blood in you."
Tyrion fell silent. He had been obsessed with dragons since he was a child, so he was now inclined to believe Viserys's words. Otherwise, how could he explain why those dragons only circled him instead of killing him? Viserys must have done it on purpose.
He looked down at his hands—those short, deformed hands. It turned out that the blood of the Targaryen Dragonlords flowed through them.
Tyrion's body began to tremble. He remembered what Tywin had once told him: 'You have proven you aren't even fit to be a Lannister.' If this were true, then everything finally made sense.
After a long time, he raised his head, his eyes shining with a complex light, and asked, "So... can I also ride a dragon?"
Viserys was suddenly amused by his words, his laughter full of mockery. He hadn't expected Tyrion to actually ask such a thing.
He asked back with a mocking tone, "What do you think?"
Tyrion opened his mouth but said nothing. He knew his mind was truly muddled right now.
"Your legs went weak with fear back on the tower, didn't they?" Viserys looked at Tyrion, continuing his mockery. "Dragons can sense not only bloodlines but also the fear in a person's heart. Tyrion, a man who trembles all over just by looking at a dragon will never gain their recognition. Furthermore..."
He paused and said, "Even if you could, do you think I would let an 'outsider' like you lay a finger on my dragons? Tyrion, your name is Lannister. Even if you are Targaryen by blood, you have never truly identified with that identity. Just a moment ago, your first thought was still 'If I can ride a dragon, I can help the Lannisters win this war,' wasn't it?"
Tyrion's face turned ashen. He knew Viserys was telling the truth. Back on the tower, he had indeed been scared to death. And he had to admit, his first instinct was indeed to use a dragon to help the Lannisters through this crisis.
"And..." Viserys leaned in close, lowering his voice, "I didn't take anything you said to me just now seriously. I only met you to have one last look at what the Lannister Imp looks like."
He straightened up, walked out of the tent, and commanded the Unsullied guards, "Take him to the dragons."
Tyrion was hoisted up by two Unsullied and dragged out of the tent. He didn't struggle, knowing it would be useless. His mind was still reeling from what Viserys had told him: he was a Targaryen, The Mad King's bastard.
This news was still too shocking for him, leaving him entirely numb.
They crossed the camp and came to an open area. There, several dragons were lying on the ground resting. The largest, the three-headed dragon Ghidorah, was dozing with eyes closed, her three heads overlapping. She didn't care as they approached because she could sense Viserys's presence.
Beside her was the adult black dragon. Its dark red vertical pupils swept over Tyrion before closing again, seemingly uninterested in this tiny creature.
The other Young Dragons also raised their heads. Though they couldn't compare to the two adults in size, they were still terrifying enough. Especially the dark red Meleys; she tilted her head, observing Tyrion with a curious gaze, a low purr vibrating in her throat.
"Right here will do," Viserys said.
The Unsullied threw Tyrion to the ground. He fell hard, but he could no longer feel the pain. He looked up at the dragons before him, staring at their massive forms.
Several pairs of giant eyes glowed in the darkness—gold, red, green—all staring at him. The sheer pressure made Tyrion's legs go weak again, but this time he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he forced himself to look directly at them.
He remembered the dreams he had as a child, dreaming of riding a dragon into the sky. Back then, he thought it was just a child's fantasy. Now he knew those dreams were the call of the blood flowing in his veins.
Unfortunately, it was all too late now. He was going to die today.
"You seem to have some backbone now," a voice came from behind Tyrion. It was Viserys.
He walked to Tyrion's side and pointed at the dragons. "This golden one is my Ghidorah. That black one is called Blackfyre. That deep red one is Rhaenys's Meleys. Those others over there are also ones I hatched in Valyria."
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