Chapter 182: The World's Best Commander
"You just said I can bring dragons back to the world?" Daenerys picked up a dragon egg and asked Celia, "Is that true?"
"The Lord of Light gives us visions through fire, and sometimes through dreams," Celia fabricated. In fact, she found no evidence that dragon dreams or prophetic visions were related to the Lord of Light, but what did it matter? She was a priestess of R'hllor, so all power naturally belonged to the Lord of Light.
"I just saw a great dragon breathing fire into the sky within the flames, and that dragon then bowed at Your Grace's feet. And this vision happened just as you obtained these dragon eggs, which is clearly some kind of omen."
Daenerys believed most of it, because the first part of Celia's words was exactly the same as what she had seen.
"So," Celia asked, as if guessing, "you're not usually afraid of fire? Or at least, not affected by heat?"
"Not affected by heat?" Daenerys immediately recalled her earlier experience of freely bathing in scalding water, then nodded. "That's right."
"Then, perhaps you could try," Celia said, handing a torch to Daenerys, "try touching this flame. If it doesn't harm you, then some of my suspicions might be true."
"This is madness." Daenerys hesitated. Although she had long since discovered she wasn't bothered by heat, she had never done anything so bizarre.
"This concerns whether you can bring dragons back to the world, Your Grace," Celia reminded her.
"I…" Daenerys looked at Ian, and after receiving his affirmative nod, tentatively reached out her hand toward the orange-red flame.
This is madness, she repeated to herself, but at the same time, a faint excitement rose within her.
The first time, she merely touched the flame with her fingertips before quickly withdrawing them, so quickly that even an ordinary person wouldn't be harmed.
The second time, she used three fingers, but still withdrew them quickly.
However, this time she vaguely noticed something—it seemed these flames truly couldn't cause her any burning or stinging sensation.
So, on the third attempt, Daenerys became bolder, slowly approaching the flames with both hands, gradually cupping the entire ball of fire in her palms.
"The flames really won't hurt me!" she exclaimed excitedly.
"You are the chosen of the Lord of Light, Your Grace," Celia quickly flattered, then revealed her true purpose, "It seems the vision was correct. You are the prophesied Mother of Dragons, and you will bring dragons back to the world."
"I—" Upon hearing this, Daenerys quickly suppressed her excitement at playing with fire. "What should I do?" she asked urgently.
"I studied at the Red Temple in Volantis and visited Asshai by the Shadow, where I heard of a secret ritual to awaken dragons from stone." Celia approached Daenerys and whispered the entire process of summoning a dragon from the original timeline... replacing 'Drogo' with 'sacrifice.'
"So we're going to use Viserys's body?" Daenerys frowned, instinctively feeling a sense of unease.
"The late King had the blood of the dragon flowing in his veins. Using his blood to exchange for life in the stone is most fitting," Celia knew of Daenerys's complicated feelings toward Viserys but feigned ignorance. "Besides, this is equivalent to the late King being with you in a different way."
I don't want Viserys by my side! Daenerys cried out inwardly, but she quickly changed her mind. Viserys had frightened her when he was alive, but now that he was dead, she inexplicably missed her only remaining family member.
Just as in the original timeline she had named a dragon Viserion.
Perhaps giving Viserys a new life in this way is indeed a good choice, Daenerys thought as she looked at Ian. "If we could really get a dragon, wouldn't there be hope of reclaiming the Iron Throne?"
"When..." Ian instinctively wanted to give an affirmative answer, but he quickly stopped himself.
Placing the hopes of restoration on dragons was not a good thing. It would give Daenerys a preconceived notion that she should bear the lion's share of the credit.
"No, Your Grace," Ian shook his head. "Dragons take too long to mature. A newborn dragon needs at least decades to truly develop overwhelming power. Our restoration cannot rely on your dragons. I hope you can bring dragons back to the world simply because dragons are the symbol of House Targaryen."
"You mean, we'll have to wait decades to reclaim the Iron Throne?" Daenerys wasn't surprised, but she still couldn't help feeling disappointed.
"I mean, we will reclaim your Iron Throne without the help of dragons," Ian corrected.
"Without the dragons' help," Daenerys murmured, then asked, "But how? My brother wanted to give me to Drogo in exchange for an army, but I can't marry Drogo now. How are we going to get an army? Without an army, we can't take back the Iron Throne, can we?"
"You can give yourself to me in exchange for an army," Ian's answer stunned not only Daenerys, but even Celia standing beside her nearly choked on her own breath.
Was this something a vassal would say to his Queen?
Ian could answer with certainty: yes.
Because at this moment, Daenerys hadn't yet acquired the habits of power she had as Khaleesi in the original timeline. She had never been treated with utmost respect by anyone, nor had she ever held the power of life and death over anyone.
Right now, she was just a timid, uncertain, and insecure young girl who had acquired the title of Queen, had wandered her whole life, and had always been bullied by Viserys.
She would only be surprised by Ian's bold behavior, not angry. She might feel it was inappropriate, but deep down she would be pleased.
This was exactly the effect Ian wanted. He wanted Daenerys to get used to it, to see this way of interacting as normal, rather than believing that she should be superior to him.
As Ian expected, Daenerys's face instantly turned red to her ears upon hearing this, but she didn't utter a single word of protest.
"I will find an army for you, Your Grace." Ian stopped teasing and adopted a serious tone. "We will go to Astapor to purchase Unsullied."
"Slaves wearing spiked bronze caps?" Daenerys had certainly seen Unsullied before—they were the main force of Illyrio's guard. "Can they defeat the knights of Westeros? They're too... plump!"
"The Unsullied under Illyrio or other magisters are just palace guards, completely unable to utilize their strengths. They often have nothing to do, and eunuchs are prone to gaining weight. Food is their only remaining pleasure. Compared to them, the Unsullied in Astapor who haven't been sold yet have maintained peak combat readiness," Ian explained.
"They are trained according to the ancient Ghiscari legions. They are well-trained, highly disciplined, and know no fear of pain. They are the finest infantry in the world. If they are given the best commander in the world to lead them, they will be invincible."
"The best commander in the world? Who is that?" Daenerys became interested.
"Without a doubt, that is me." Ian pointed to himself. "If you had seen me in battle, you would find that all the generals of Westeros throughout history would pale in comparison to me, like fireflies compared to the sun."
(End of Chapter)
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