As the maid combed Lynn's waterfall-like silver hair, Lynn's gaze fell upon a gem-encrusted book on the dressing table.
The book's cover was made of tanned purple leather, and its title, "A Song of Dragon and Fire," was written in Old Valyrian.
It was a collection of legendary tales about ancient Valyria.
The opportunity had arrived.
He controlled Daenerys's body, and, under the guise of straightening her almost transparent purple silk dress, his fingertips subtly brushed across the table.
A quill and a small bottle of black ink were smoothly tucked into her wide sleeve.
The movement was gentle and seamless.
With everything prepared, he was escorted back to his bedroom by a group of chattering maids.
"Your Highness, please rest for a moment. Magister Illyrio will send someone to fetch you shortly."
The maids bowed respectfully and withdrew. As the heavy door softly closed, the entire world finally quieted down.
Now was the time!
Lynn didn't hesitate. He immediately walked to the carved desk, opened the story collection, and turned directly to the blank flyleaf.
He controlled Daenerys's right hand, which was trembling slightly from tension and spiritual overload, forced it steady, and dipped it in ink.
The quill rapidly began writing on the ancient parchment.
He couldn't write a direct warning; that would only be dismissed as the ramblings of a maiden awaiting marriage.
What he needed to write was a prophecy.
A prophecy profound enough to overturn her understanding, make her believe deeply, and even carry an extreme sense of romance and epic grandeur.
He abandoned the Common Tongue, opting instead for the older, more rhythmic Valyrian, writing with an oracle-like flourish:
[Zȳho perzys, naejot sȳndor ēngos hen vējes.]
(The blood of the true dragon should not be sullied in the grass sea.)
[Ñuho brōzi, daor syt dāriot qilōni hen Dothraki,]
(Your destiny is not to command savage kings who ride wild horses,)
[se ao hen glaesā iēdrosa, naejot dāriot zaldrīzesu hen drēje.]
(but to be the true monarch from the Land of Eternal Winter, who rides three-headed ice dragons.)
[Kostōbus sōnas mirre hen mirros,]
(He will awaken from legends of fallen stars,)
[Lentor lī qrōzī hae rūs, mirros hen hāros ao.]
(treading through seas of bitterness and poison, bringing the biting wind and frost of the North.)
[Hen perzys lī qelbot, glaesā lī zȳho perzys.]
(With a kiss of ice and snow, he will awaken the burning blood within you.)
[Rhaenās, Daenerys, ōdrikot sȳz.]
(The Prince is in the West.)
Lynn exhausted all his Valyrian reserves before completing the last letter.
Lynn placed it in the most conspicuous spot, ensuring Daenerys would discover it at a glance.
After completing all of this, Lynn's consciousness began to detach.
The scene before him became blurred and distorted.
However, just as he was about to fully withdraw.
"Bang!"
With a loud crash, the bedroom door was violently kicked open from the outside.
Viserys Targaryen.
The "Beggar King," with his smooth silver hair and sinister, mad eyes, burst in like an agitated beast.
His usual gentle demeanor had vanished from his face.
It was replaced by impatience, and his tone was filled with undeniable commands and threats.
"Daenerys! Hurry up!"
"The Khal's bloodriders will be here any moment!"
"You'd best act like a queen tonight!"
"Don't give me that look like your parents died! Do you understand?!"
"You don't want to... awaken the sleeping dragon's wrath again, do you?"
Viserys's gaze, like he was inspecting merchandise, greedily and critically swept over "Daenerys's" graceful body.
Through Daenerys's eyes, Lynn could clearly feel the body's instinctive reaction.
Her heart pounded, and her limbs grew cold.
It was a fear seared deep into her bloodline.
Viserys had often tormented her in the past.
It was this scoundrel who intended to sell his own sister to help him restore the Targaryen dynasty.
A beast!
Lynn controlled Daenerys, slowly raising her head, inch by inch.
Her beautiful violet eyes met Viserys's gaze calmly.
Gone was her usual timidity.
Gone was her accustomed submission.
That look... was so serene it sent shivers down one's spine.
The roar and threats on Viserys's face suddenly froze.
He stared blankly at his sister.
This wasn't right.
That look wasn't right!
In those violet eyes, there was none of the usual fear, no pleading, nothing at all.
Only an unfathomable indifference, as if looking at a... ridiculous jester?
It was a condescending scrutiny, almost a look of contempt.
Viserys felt as if he was being stared down by a true dragon; a chill shot up his spine to the crown of his head.
His oft-repeated phrase, "the sleeping dragon's wrath," seemed so laughable, so utterly powerless at that moment.
Seeing that Viserys was already intimidated and his mental energy had reached its limit, Lynn withdrew his consciousness.
It was a sharp pain, like a soul being forcibly torn from its shell.
Lynn's consciousness, like a pebble shot from a slingshot, rapidly retreated through an endless mental storm.
The outline of King's Landing flashed past in his fragmented vision.
Finally, Lynn abruptly "fell" back into his own body.
"Hoo—"
Lynn opened his eyes, gasping for breath, his forehead covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat.
The furnishings in the Red Keep tower remained the same, and the clatter of Guards' armor on patrol could be heard from outside the window.
Nothing had changed.
Yet, the exhaustion of crossing an entire continent and projecting his consciousness into another person almost overwhelmed his entire being.
This was a hundred times harder than his previous intrusion into Jaime's mind.
He was drained again.
He would need a long period of rest to fully recover his mental energy.
However, it was worth it.
The seed had been planted within Daenerys.
The rest was up to the girl's own choice.
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