The man in the mirror wore a magnificent silk robe embroidered with the three-headed red dragon; his silver hair was carefully groomed, and a gem-encrusted sword hung at his waist.
Viserys looked at himself in the mirror, his fingertips brushing over the intricate gold embroidery on his cuffs.
The robe fit perfectly, crafted overnight by a skilled tailor Cregan had found from somewhere; the fabric was even more exquisite than the best piece he had owned before his exile.
The figure in the mirror seemed to vaguely possess some of the majesty his father, Aerys II, displayed on important occasions in his memory.
But his fingers were trembling slightly.
His heart hammered against his chest, making his ribs ache.
His stomach twisted into a knot, and a familiar, icy dread coiled around him like a venomous snake, nearly suffocating him.
Tonight. It was tonight.
Those impassioned lines had been polished by Cregan, and he himself had memorized, revised, and practiced them countless times.
He had fantasized about standing on the high platform of the Princes Residence, facing potential chaos and questioning, and using a powerful, kingly speech to make those confused Soldiers, wavering officials, and even... that dragon, submit wholeheartedly and kneel before his authority.
He would become the wise ruler who set things right, the monarch leading the Targaryen Dynasty toward a true restoration.
He took a deep breath, straightened his back toward the mirror, and tried to make his expression appear resolute and decisive.
His lips opened and closed, silently reciting:
"...Loyal citizens of Lys! Brave Soldiers of Targaryen! Behold, the one standing before you is the true King of Targaryen! Viserys Targaryen III! Son of King Aerys and Queen Rhaella! The true Targaryen King!..."
His voice was dry at first, but gradually grew high-pitched, carrying a kind of self-hypnotic fanaticism.
"...The usurper occupies King's Landing, and traitors defile the iron throne. Yet in this land that should have been the foundation of our restoration, some are content with pleasure, forgetting blood feuds, betraying the family, and attempting to establish their own power! How is such behavior different from treason?!..."
He seemed to see the moved and shocked expressions of the crowd below, and the fire of loyalty ignited in the eyes of the Soldiers.
He almost believed he was the one destined by fate.
"...Tonight is not for private gain, but for the legitimacy of Targaryen! For the endless blood feuds of fifteen years! For the royal army that the Seven Kingdoms have been eagerly awaiting! Follow me, take up your weapons, not for betrayal, but to set things right! Not for slaughter, but to restore order and glory! I, your King, will lead you across the Narrow Sea once more, to reclaim everything we lost with blood and fire! Glory to Targaryen!"
The last sentence he almost roared out, his face flushed, eyes bloodshot, and chest heaving violently.
The image in the mirror seemed to merge with him; the weak, fearful, and neglected Viserys seemed to disappear, leaving only a monarch ignited by a sense of mission and 'righteous' fury.
Just then—
"Click."
The sound of a door opening wasn't loud, but in the extremely quiet and tense room, it exploded like a clap of thunder!
Viserys's whole body jolted violently, as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, instantly falling from his self-indulgent dream.
He turned around in a panic, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword hilt at his waist. The color drained from his face, and his eyes were filled with the terror and shame of having his secret discovered.
"Who is it?!"
The person standing at the door was Daenerys.
She wore the black and red gown Aegon had given her, but had hastily thrown a plain wool shawl over it.
Her silver-gold hair was somewhat loose, and in the dim light, her purple eyes clearly reflected her brother's current pathetic, panicked, and eerily excited state.
There wasn't much expression on her small face, but her tightly pressed lips and slightly furrowed brow showed her unease and determination.
Her brother had been too abnormal lately.
The smell of alcohol during the day, the secretive outings late at night, the strange scent of perfume on him, and that increasingly unfamiliar, increasingly paranoid look in his eyes.
Just now, passing by his door, she had vaguely heard the suppressed and excited voices coming from inside, intermittent but clearly catching words like 'betray Aegon,' 'Targaryen legitimacy,' and'set things right.'
A terrible suspicion took shape in her heart.
She remembered her brother's excitement before leaving Pentos, and the gap and day-by-day distortion after he arrived in Lys... Aegon was their family, the one who saved them and gave them a place to stay.
She couldn't stand by and watch her brother descend into a deeper abyss and commit irreparable mistakes.
So, she pushed open the door.
Seeing it was Daenerys, Viserys's tense nerves relaxed slightly, but immediately, a stronger surge of fury from being peered at and offended welled up.
"Daenerys!" he shouted sharply, his voice shrill with tension and anger. "Who let you in?! Get out! Now!"
Daenerys did not retreat.
She took a step forward and gently closed the door behind her, blocking the view from outside.
Her voice was soft, yet carried an unquestionable seriousness: "Brother, you cannot do this."
"I cannot do what?" Viserys sneered, taking a step forward, trying to overwhelm her with his presence. "What do you know? Go back to your room!"
"I heard what you said."
Daenerys met his gaze without flinching. "About Aegon... Brother, he is our family. He saved us and gave us all this. You cannot betray him."
"Family?!" The word was like a spark landing in a barrel of oil, instantly igniting all the humiliation, jealousy, and resentment Viserys had accumulated for so long.
He suddenly exploded, his face twisting, spit flying:
"Family?! So he can just sideline his uncle as he pleases?! Humiliate his King?! Lock me up here like a prisoner and find two old geezers to 'teach' the King?!"
"Give me some fine clothes and good food like I'm a beggar and think it's a blessing?! Dany, wake up! Look at this residence, look at those armies outside, look at those Fleets in the Port, look at those three city-states! They are all mine! They belong to Targaryen!"
He waved his arms wildly, as if to shatter all the invisible shackles before him.
"I am the King! Mother crowned me with her own hands on Dragonstone! And you? What did your birth bring? It took Mother's life! It took our last royal Fleet! What have you ever brought besides disaster?! What right do you have to stand here and speak for that traitor?!"
The vicious words were like poisoned whips, lashing hard against Daenerys's heart.
Her face instantly turned pale, her body swayed, and tears of shock and hurt welled up in her eyes.
Mother... had always been the deepest pain in her heart, and it was a place her brother had never used so directly to attack her.
"Aegon is not a traitor..." She struggled to keep her voice steady, though tears had already fallen. "He never forgot the hatred. He is preparing, brother; he needs time to consolidate his forces..."
"Preparing? Ha!" Viserys laughed wildly, his laughter filled with madness and mockery.
"His preparation is to be a local tyrant here! To start his Targaryen Second Dynasty! He has long since put Westeros, the iron throne, and our blood feuds behind him! Since he doesn't think about revenge, doesn't think about reclaiming what belongs to us..."
He suddenly drew the flashy but impractical sword from his waist, the tip trembling slightly due to his shaking hand, yet pointing toward the door as if at an imaginary enemy.
"...Then I will! Viserys Targaryen III! King of the andals, the Rhoynar, and the first men! I will personally reclaim what I deserve! That Fleet! Those city-states! The dragons that should obey the true dragon monarch!"
"Then, I will take them across the Narrow Sea and make Lannister, Baratheon, and all the traitors tremble under the true dragon's fire! That is what a Targaryen King should do! Not huddle here counting gold coins like he does!"
He seemed to already see the scene of himself ruling the Seven Kingdoms, a pathological light burning in his eyes.
"Brother, no!" Seeing that he was really about to rush out, Daenerys grew frantic. Ignoring the tears on her face, she lunged forward to grab his arm and stop him. "You will kill yourself, and you will harm Aegon! Please, wake up!"
"Get away!" Viserys was in the heat of the moment, and being blocked by his sister only made him more furious.
He swung his arm violently, with a force far exceeding Daenerys's expectations.
"Ah!" Daenerys cried out as she was pushed hard. She stumbled, her back hitting the sharp corner of a carved wardrobe. A burst of sharp pain followed, and she groaned, falling to the ground, curling up in pain for a moment, unable to stand.
Viserys didn't even look at her. He gripped the sword hilt and strode toward the door.
The flames of revenge, the thirst for power, and the mad release after long-term suppression had completely consumed him.
At this moment, he felt omnipotent, destined by fate.
However, just as he pulled open the door and was about to step out, he suddenly stopped.
He didn't turn back, but his knuckles on the sword hilt turned white.
After a silence of about two or three seconds, his raspy, cold voice, carrying a kind of bestowed arrogance, drifted back, striking the ears of Daenerys, who was curled on the floor, trembling from pain and heartache:
"You'd better just wait here. Don't think about doing anything stupid to hinder me. The consequences of waking the dragon this time won't be as simple as before."
He paused, seemingly imagining the scene, and his tone actually softened slightly in a strange way, yet it was even more hair-raising:
"As for Aegon... don't worry, I'll spare his life. He is Rhaegar's son after all, my own nephew. I just... need to wake him up, to make him realize who is the sovereign and who is the subject."
"I will lock him in a sturdy tower and let him watch closely—watch how I restore the Targaryen Dynasty step by step, how I send Lannister, Baratheon, Arryn, Stark, Tully... all the traitors and usurpers, to hell one by one! Not one will escape!"
Having said that, he no longer hesitated. He pulled the door wide open, his figure quickly disappearing into the dim corridor outside, his footsteps receding hurriedly and resolutely.
"Brother... no..." Daenerys struggled, enduring the sharp pain in her back and chest, and managed to prop herself up with her arms.
Tears blurred her vision, but the paranoia and madness in Viserys's final words pierced through all her lingering hopes like ice picks.
It was over. Her brother had gone completely mad.
All he saw was the world of his own fantasy, believing only the facts he wanted to believe.
The selling of their mother's crown seemed to have drained the last bit of reason connecting him to reality.
He was now like a drowning man grasping at a straw, but that straw was a poisoned blade that would drag him into a deeper abyss and also harm Aegon and the future they had just seen a glimmer of hope for.
She couldn't let him do this.
Aegon was their family, the one who gave them a new life.
She had to stop her brother before he committed an unforgivable mistake, before everything became irreparable!
Using all her strength, Daenerys leaned against the wall and stood up unsteadily.
The pain in her back made her gasp with every movement, but she gritted her teeth, wiped away the tear tracks on her face, pushed open the door, and chased after the direction Viserys had disappeared, enduring the pain as fast as she could.
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