Viserys the Exile

Conquest Era 290, Secret City, Braavos.

Braavos had only three kinds of weather: fog was bad, rain was worse, and freezing rain was the worst of all. Today, Braavos was enjoying a rare spell of fine weather, fresh and clear.

Braavos lay at roughly the same latitude as the Five Fingers, so its climate was naturally colder than King's Landing's.

It had been six years since Viserys Targaryen left King's Landing, and he had grown used to Braavos's climate.

The Known World's Long Summer had arrived. This summer would last from 289 to 299, for more than ten years in all.

A Long Summer meant prosperity. The ignorant might forget the memory of winter and start praising the new Baratheon Dynasty.

South of the magnificent Sealord's Palace, in Braavos's wealthy quarter, stood a red-doored building surrounded by towering walls.

Braavos was full of stone, and it had far more architectural wonders than King's Landing. More than twenty grand buildings here could rival the Red Keep and the Great Sept of Baelor.

Ever since Dragonstone fell, Viserys had been under the protection of Ser Willem Darry at the Red Door House in Braavos.

Viserys was not the owner of the house. It was merely a residence they rented.

Even this rented residence was not going to last much longer. Ser Willem was now close to death, and the servants were already planning to make off with their money.

To avoid truly becoming the "Beggar King," Viserys had to do something.

The Red Door House was fairly spacious, but they did not employ many servants. For one thing, it was safer that way. For another, they had not brought much money with them when they fled.

There were few signs of House Targaryen here, save for the Three-Headed Red Dragon Sigil Viserys wore on his chest.

Ser Willem had told him that if he ever forgot the sigil of House Targaryen, he would lose the courage to take revenge forever.

"Click!" Viserys crouched down, gazing at the flowers and mushrooms growing wild in the garden. Plants struggled to grow in Braavos, but the wealthy could still afford such a pastime.

With no one to tend it, the garden looked a mess. Renting the house had already cost them a great deal, and exiles had no desire to renovate it or build a splendid garden.

The most expensive plant here was a lemon tree, since trees were rare in Braavos.

Near a pile of broken tiles in a corner of the garden, Viserys spotted several mushrooms growing. They looked white, but underneath they were marked with spots dark as clotted blood.

There were seven mushrooms in all. The sacred number seemed to hint at something. Viserys wrapped them in his glove and slipped them into his pocket.

Poison was a woman's and a coward's weapon, but he needed it now.

After gathering the mushrooms, Viserys left the garden as if nothing had happened.

"Good day, Your Grace. Are you admiring the flowers again?" the smiling, portly steward asked. He looked very friendly, though his tone was still mocking.

"Yes, Steward. Flowers and plants are much simpler than people," Viserys replied seriously.

The steward paused, but said nothing more.

He knew the boy well by now: a prince from a fallen kingdom, fond of watching the plants in the garden. The boy had no one to rely on. If not for the money, the steward would have stopped serving him long ago.

Viserys was tall, with silver-gold hair and violet eyes, the unmistakable features of House Targaryen—and an almost inhuman beauty.

He was more handsome than Rhaegar, but his wretched life had undeniably diminished the prince's presence.

The kingdom of an exile was confined to this house.

"Good day, Steward." Viserys rose and left. He needed to discuss things with his adviser.

He had already crossed the steward off his list. The steward was at the heart of the conspiracy in this house.

There was also a cook, a laundress, and others.

"Of course, my king."

Four or five months ago, the college student from Blue Star had "hit the jackpot" and arrived in this world. At last, the souls from two different worlds had fused into one.

From then on, he was Viserys, and Viserys was him.

He was the exiled king of Westeros, and a handsome young man at that. It could have been worse.

For now, Viserys was still hiding in Braavos, and people were treating him fairly well.

But once he realized that his time at the Red Door House in Braavos was nearly over, he had no time to brood.

The servants had set their sights on the little money his exiled kingdom had left.

They had already plotted to steal all the wealth once Ser Darry died.

Without that money, Viserys would have to take to the road and formally begin begging his way through the Free Trade Cities.

Viserys first went to Rhaenys's room. A pretty little girl with olive skin, black hair, and black eyes was playing with her one-eared black cat.

Rhaenys was Viserys's adviser. The girl had awakened the Talent of a Skinchanger.

She was the child with Dornish blood the Mad King had spoken of. Compared with the usual Targaryen traits, the girl certainly seemed more Dornish.

At first, Viserys had wondered how Rhaenys was still alive and well. Later, he discovered that during their escape, Rhaenys and her cat had joined the group. It was a small change to the timeline.

"I heard them, Viserys. While they were talking, I was the black cat hiding in the corner," Rhaenys said. "They're about to make their move. Once Ser Darry is gone, they'll steal the gold and throw us out."

Viserys felt the gods had treated him fairly well. His small group might be few in number, but they were all exceptional.

His little team of three included his niece Rhaenys, a gifted Skinchanger, and his sister Daenerys, a Dragon Dreamer.

Only Viserys himself seemed unremarkable, apart from his looks.

"Have you come up with a plan, Viserys?" Rhaenys asked, then leaped up and grabbed his arm.

Viserys nodded and took out the poisonous mushrooms he had prepared. They were beautiful, but deadly.

"They think we're children. That's their weakness," Viserys said firmly.

"When I make my move, you're responsible for protecting Daenerys," Viserys whispered in Rhaenys's ear.

"No problem," Rhaenys said with a nod. "I won't tell Daenerys about this yet."

Daenerys was her aunt, but Rhaenys was older than her.

"Thanks for the effort!" Viserys ruffled Rhaenys's little black-haired head. The black cat meowed a few times, restless.

Viserys looked at the lemon tree outside. If the historians ever wrote his biography, let the story begin in Braavos.

"You could have gone to Dorne with the Red Viper, or they could have fostered you in Tyrosh," Viserys said quietly.

The Dornish had a good relationship with Tyrosh, which was close to the Three Daughters.

"My father said the Dragon Has Three Heads, so the three of us should stay together," Rhaenys said solemnly.

...Viserys was at a loss for words. If Rhaegar hadn't gone mad and believed that prophecy, they wouldn't have ended up in this state.