Exile Viserys

Conquest Era 290, the Secret City, Braavos.

Braavos only had three types of weather: bad fog, worse rain, and the worst of all, freezing sleet. Today, however, Braavos enjoyed a rare, crisp, and refreshing day.

The latitude of Braavos was roughly similar to the Five Fingers, so the climate here was naturally colder than that of King's Landing.

Six years had passed since leaving King's Landing, and Viserys Targaryen had grown accustomed to the Braavosi climate.

The Long Summer of the Known World had arrived; this summer would last from 289 to 299, a full decade or more.

Long Summer meant prosperity, and the ignorant might forget the memories of winter and begin to sing the praises of the new Baratheon Dynasty.

South of the magnificent Sealord's Palace, within the noble district of Braavos, one could see a building with high walls and a red door.

Braavos was filled with stone, and it possessed far more architectural wonders than King's Landing. There were over twenty grand structures that could rival the Red Keep and the Great Sept of Baelor.

Ever since Dragonstone fell, Viserys had been sheltered within this Red Door House in Braavos by Ser Willem Darry.

Viserys was not the master of this residence; it was merely a rented courtyard.

Even as a rented courtyard, the good times were not to last, for Ser Willem was now on his deathbed, and the servants were planning to abscond with their money.

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

The Red Door House was not small, but they employed very few servants. This was partly for security and partly because they had carried little money when they fled.

There were not many symbols of House Targaryen here, save for the Three-Headed Red Dragon Sigil pinned to Viserys's chest.

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

"Click!" Viserys crouched down, looking at the wild flowers and mushrooms growing in the courtyard garden. It was difficult for plants to grow in Braavos, but the wealthy still indulged in such pastimes.

However, because no one tended to it, the garden looked a mess. Renting this mansion had already cost a fortune, and the exiles had no heart left to repair or build a magnificent garden.

The most expensive plant here was a lemon tree, as trees were always scarce in Braavos.

In a corner of the garden wall, near some broken tiles, Viserys saw a few mushrooms growing. They looked white, but underneath, they had spots as dark as congealed blood.

There were seven mushrooms in total; this sacred number seemed to imply something. Viserys wrapped the mushrooms in his gloves and then dropped them into his trouser pocket.

Poisoning was the method of women and cowards, but at this moment, he needed poison.

After collecting the mushrooms, Viserys walked out of the garden as if nothing had happened.

"Good day, Your Grace. Are you admiring the flowers and plants again?" asked the fat steward with a smile. He looked very gentle, but that did not mask the mockery in his tone.

"Indeed, steward. Flowers and plants are much simpler than people," Viserys said earnestly.

The steward paused, but did not show much else.

He had long since figured out this child—a prince of a fallen kingdom who liked to observe the plants in the garden. He was helpless and alone; if not for the sake of money, the steward would have stopped serving him long ago.

Viserys was tall, with long silver-gold hair and purple eyes—the typical, inhumanly beautiful features of House Targaryen.

He was more handsome than Rhaegar, but a life of destitution had undoubtedly diminished the prince's aura.

The kingdom of an exile was limited to this house alone.

"Good day, steward." Viserys rose and left; he needed to consult with his brain trust.

Viserys had already marked the steward with a cross in his heart; the conspiracies within this mansion centered entirely around him.

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

"As you wish, my King."

The college student from the Blue Star who had "struck luck" and arrived in this world four or five months ago had finally managed to merge the souls of two different worlds.

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

Being an exiled king of Westeros, and a handsome young man at that, was not particularly terrible.

For now, Viserys was still hiding in Braavos, and things were still decent enough.

But upon realizing that he was at the end of his life in the Red Door House of Braavos, Viserys had no time for melancholy.

Because the little funds this exiled king had for restoring his kingdom were already being eyed by the servants.

These people had already conspired to steal all the wealth once Ser Willem passed away.

Once that money was gone, Viserys would have to go out and wander, officially beginning the life of begging across the various Free Trade Cities.

Viserys first went to Rhaenys's room, where a delicate little girl with olive skin, black hair, and black eyes was teasing her one-eared black cat.

Rhaenys was Viserys's brain trust; this girl had already awakened her Talent as a "Skinchanger."

This was the child the Mad King had called "Dornish-flavored," and indeed, compared to the Targaryen traits, she looked more like a Dornishwoman.

At first, Viserys had also been curious as to why Rhaenys was alive and well, but later he discovered that when they fled, Rhaenys had followed her cat into their ranks—a minor change in the timeline.

"I heard it, Viserys. When they were discussing it, I was the black cat hiding in the corner," Rhaenys said. "They are preparing to act. Once Ser Willem is gone, they will seize the gold and drive us out."

Viserys felt that the gods were still good to him; though his people were few, they were elite.

In this small three-person team, his niece Rhaenys was a genius Skinchanger, and his sister Daenerys was a Dragon Dreamer.

Only Viserys himself, aside from his looks, seemed somewhat unremarkable for the time being.

"Do you have a plan, Viserys?" Rhaenys asked, then jumped up and grabbed Viserys's arm.

Viserys nodded, then took out the poisonous mushrooms he had prepared, vibrant yet deadly.

"They treat us like children, and that is their weakness," Viserys said firmly.

"When I start my move, you are responsible for protecting Daenerys," Viserys whispered into Rhaenys's ear.

"No problem," Rhaenys nodded. "I won't tell Daenerys about this yet."

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

"Thank you for your hard work!" Viserys rubbed Rhaenys's little black-haired head, and the Black Cat let out a few restless meows.

Viserys looked at the lemon tree outside the house; if historians were to write his biography, then the story would begin in Braavos.

"You could have followed the Red Viper to Dorne, or they could have fostered you in Tyrosh," Viserys said in a low voice.

The Dornish people had a very good relationship with Tyrosh, as it was quite close to the Three Daughters.

"My father said that the Dragon Has Three Heads, so the three of us must naturally stay together," Rhaenys said very seriously.

...Viserys was left speechless; if Rhaegar hadn't had water in his brain and believed in this prophecy, they wouldn't have ended up in such a state.