"I swear that one day, I will personally kill those murderers."
"Mother."
A few days ago.
The silver-haired boy, his hand resting on his sword, solemnly promised his mother that he would represent House Targaryen and seek retribution from the murderers.
Viserys hoped these words would bring a little comfort to his deeply saddened mother.
However, despite the boy's ambition, surviving the pursuit of House Baratheon was the most important thing right now.
After more than half a month of suffering, Viserys had finally and completely accepted the fact that he had arrived in a strange world. Although, this world wasn't actually that strange.
Previously, he had only casually read about the events as they unfolded, but now the silver-haired boy understood that all the dangers were very real.
His tragic fate, following its original trajectory, was like a noose around Viserys's neck.
It constantly reminded him that if he didn't strive to do something, if he couldn't change the current situation, then when fate caught up with him, he would only have a dead end.
His existence alone meant that House Baratheon wouldn't let him go, even if he did nothing.
After Viserys promised his mother that he would avenge their enemies, he began a frenzied training regime in the following days.
People who have just set their minds on something are often full of motivation, and knightly training isn't just swordsmanship, but also Horsemanship, lances, archery, scimitars, and so on. Then, Viserys successfully overexerted himself and injured himself.
"Ouch, ouch, ouch!"
The silver-haired boy sat on the chair, looking a little troubled.
And the old maester smiled kindly. He had seen children who tried too hard before; Viserys's grandfather, Jaehaerys, had done the same thing.
Because of his weak constitution, Jaehaerys had once tried to improve his physical condition through diligent exercise, but he ended up injuring himself by pushing too hard.
"I know you are eager for revenge, child, and there is nothing wrong with that."
The old maester first used ice to apply a cold compress to the silver-haired boy's strained muscles to relieve the pain, then gently wiped away the ice water with a towel.
"But remember not to let hatred cloud your eyes; it is only a small part of your life."
"You are a Targaryen, you are the future 'True Dragon', you should have a nobler and more important mission."
Viserys sat on the stool, gazing at the old maester in front of him, whose hair was white and face was covered in wrinkles, listening to the man's mutterings.
Although he could understand every word, he always felt that the old maester seemed to be alluding to something when he put them together.
A loftier, more important mission?
Viserys tilted his head slightly, a look of confusion on his young face, his silver hair, like molten silver, cascading over his shoulders. His lilac eyes reflected the old maester's face.
The maester seemed oblivious to his curious gaze, his words halting abruptly at this point. He didn't elaborate on the loftier, more important mission he'd mentioned, instead changing the subject slightly.
"Though the code of knighthood is an ancient tradition of the nobility, knowledge is even more crucial for a good noble."
The old maester switched gears, his tone becoming one of earnest instruction.
He had observed Viserys's strenuous knightly training over the past period. Hard work and diligence were good qualities, but he worried Viserys might neglect the importance of knowledge and become a brute who only knew how to fight.
Compared to charging headlong into battle, the destructive power of a mind that could kill was undoubtedly greater.
He didn't want Viserys to become a mere knight-errant; such a path would likely prevent him from ever becoming the 'Prince That Was Promised'.
Maester Daniel was also privy to that prophecy. He had personally tutored Rhaegar, so naturally, he had the prince's trust.
The prophecy stated that Aerys II and Queen Rhaella would give birth to the "Prince That Was Promised." This prophecy originated from a witch, but its roots lay in a five-thousand-year-old book from Asshai.
A legendary hero from approximately eight thousand years ago, Azor Ahai, would be reborn, and this "Prince That Was Promised" would fight the White Walkers.
This would occur after a long summer, when darkness descended. This "prince" would reawaken Lightbringer and battle the White Walkers. If he failed, the entire world would be doomed.
"After a long summer, when the stars bleed, and a cold darkness descends upon the world, a warrior will draw a burning sword from the fire. That sword is 'Lightbringer,' the hero's red sword. The one who wields it is the reincarnation of Azor Ahai, and he will drive away the darkness."
Initially, everyone who knew believed that Rhaegar would be the "Prince That Was Promised" because Rhaegar was too perfect. Almost everyone who saw the prince would shower him with praise.
However, since Robert Baratheon's hammer struck Rhaegar's chest at the Battle of the Trident, everyone realized that Rhaegar was not the "Prince That Was Promised."
Then, eyes turned to Rhaegar's younger brother, the silver-haired boy before them—Viserys Targaryen because he was also a child of Aerys and Rhaella. But, he had not been born in the "land of smoke and salt."
"Perhaps."
Maester Daniel sighed inexplicably.
Viserys didn't understand the old maester's gaze, but he heard what he'd just said.
He naturally understood the importance of knowledge, but he also understood that what he urgently needed now was the ability to protect himself. After all, he was destined to be a wanderer for a long time to come.
"I understand."
Viserys nodded obediently.
Inside the tower.
The bright sunshine streamed in through the window, filling the room. An old man and a young boy sat at the table, and the atmosphere was unusually peaceful. Since Viserys had come to this world, he had lived in a high-pressure environment, followed by constant pursuit and escape.
And now, on Dragonstone, it was rare to feel a moment of respite in the presence of this old man.
"Child."
"Are you beginning to feel anxious about the future?"
Maester Daniel's back was somewhat stooped, but his body still looked healthy. His gray robe and keen eyes seemed to pierce the boy's thoughts.
The fate of House Targaryen was now plain for all to see. King's Landing had already fallen, and the remaining loyalists had no reason to continue fighting.
The reason they hadn't yet ceased hostilities was entirely to gain leverage at the negotiating table, to secure more benefits, or at least to avoid a complete defeat and recoup some losses.
Viserys was silent for a long time.
Finally, he nodded.
....
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