After ending the ultra-long-distance video call with Quaithe, Dany immediately had a Dothraki handmaiden summon the dwarf.
It turned out the dwarf's small tent was just outside the hall, in the corridor. He had already taken off his armor and crawled into his sleeping bag, fast asleep.
"I didn't go into the hall," the dwarf said awkwardly.
"You're a transcendent being, and even a blood-magic wizard, yet you're afraid of the undead. Aren't you ashamed to let others hear that?" Dany said with disdain.
"You're not from the Westerlands. The old nanny never told you stories about the ghosts of Castamere and Tarbeck.
Back then, whenever I did something bad, she would say the ghosts of Tarbeck would come and take me away. Think about it. Aren't Northerners afraid of White Walkers and all sorts of spirits?"
Dany paused. What the dwarf said seemed to make some sense.
She skipped over the topic and said solemnly, "Tyrion, your chance to realize your life's value has come. The Seven have entrusted you with an important mission."
Tyrion yawned and complained impatiently, "Just say it. What do you want me to do? Don't dress it up with all this nonsense."
Dany shot him a glare. "The evil gods are wreaking havoc in Yi Ti. I want you to go there as the High Septon, and at the same time serve as the Grand Mage who protects the nation.
If necessary, you might even become Yi Ti's Prime Minister. Holding multiple posts, you'd practically be the supreme authority of Yi Ti.
As long as you can control yourself and don't stay overnight in the Celestial Emperor's harem, you'll be fine even if you enter court without bowing, are not required to be addressed by name, and walk into the hall with your sword and shoes on."
"What?" Tyrion's drowsiness instantly vanished.
Dany first explained the situation in Yi Ti, then said, "Once you're there, you don't need to spread the faith of the Seven. With the axe in your hand and your skill in fire magic, just help the good people of Yi Ti solve their troubles."
"Why?" Tyrion asked blankly. "Why me?"
"You are a Targaryen super-bastard. In the Yi Ti court, you would be treated like a lord. Those corrupt officials and foolish rulers all rely on the Targaryens to preserve their bloodline, identity, and status.
Besides, you're smart. In a place as complex as Yi Ti, you have the highest chance of survival," Dany said gently.
"The highest chance of survival?" The dwarf's lips twitched. "Why is it that whenever there's a deadly mission, I'm the first one you think of?"
"Why are you always unwilling to help me with my troubles?" Dany countered.
"I can't go to Yi Ti. The Lannisters have been wiped out, and the Westerlands have fallen. If I leave, what happens here?" Tyrion shook his head.
"Call Jaime over. He's had more than half a month to recover. He should be fully healed by now. He's the Duke of Casterly Rock, the Shield of Lannisport, and the Warden of the West.
As for you, you're just a dispensable acting castellan of Casterly Rock," Dany said bluntly.
"Only by going to Yi Ti can you truly fulfill your dream of ruling the world."
"I'm not trying to compete with Jaime, but the Westerlands are my homeland. If I can't even protect my own home, you expect me to go protect the people of Yi Ti?
Damn it, are all the people of Yi Ti young beauties?
When it comes to foreigners, I'm only interested in young, sexy, and alluring women. Everyone else is no different from pigs or sheep to me. I don't care how many of them die," the dwarf waved his arms and complained loudly.
Dany stared at him for a long time before sighing. "You're beyond saving. You won't escape the seven hells."
"I'd rather go to the seven hells than compromise myself." After firmly stating his stance, the dwarf softened his tone and said sincerely, "If you really want to develop the faith in Yi Ti, you should send true believers of the Seven. For example, my cousin Lancel, or Saint Matthew."
"They're not as clever as you. You have a special destiny—the fate of a cockroach.
Like a cockroach, you can easily adapt to all kinds of dangerous and complex environments, even turning disadvantages into advantages.
For example, when Catelyn captured you, you managed to win over her retainer—Bronn was her subordinate at the time—and even subdued the mountain clans. And when King's Landing was in such dire straits, you still defeated Stannis at the Blackwater."
"Did you just compliment me for once?" Tyrion rolled his eyes. "But this time, it's really not possible. If there weren't the Long Night, if the Westerlands weren't in such a crisis, I wouldn't mind going to Yi Ti for you. But now, how can I feel at ease leaving Westeros?"
"I'll tell you the truth. Crisis is also opportunity. I chose you not only because you're clever, but for an even more important reason—keep the benefits within the family," Dany said meaningfully.
"What kind of benefit?" Tyrion asked curiously.
"The chance to become a god," Dany said mysteriously.
Tyrion smiled knowingly. "You can leave that opportunity to someone else. I don't want it."
Trying to trick me? Not a chance.
Dany was about to mock him when her expression suddenly changed. She waved him away and said, "Don't regret it in the future. Go back and sleep."
After the dwarf muttered to himself and left, Dany's figure blurred and vanished from the tent in an instant.
The soul of the great black dragon had merged with her body. As she transformed into the Stranger, she also used spatial teleportation.
The distance wasn't far, only about ten kilometers.
Like a gray shadow, she flickered three times in succession and arrived at a coastal castle thirty kilometers away.
"You've got quite the nerve, coming into my territory to take my people. Even R'hllor wouldn't dare be so reckless."
In the world of death, Stranger Dany floated fifty meters above the castle walls, looking down at the seductive figure below.
A woman dressed in an extremely alluring and provocative manner stood there, with silver hair and a delicate oval face.
Her mesmerizing heterochromatic eyes shone like stars on her exquisite face.
Her well-proportioned body was covered only by a pink gauze garment, radiating overwhelming temptation.
A perfect face, a perfect figure, and a perfectly wanton aura.
With just one glance, a fire began to rise in Dany's heart—a primal flame of desire.
Pain and pleasure, dryness and moisture.
The woman was like a star of lust and love. Anyone illuminated by her radiance, even the blind, would fall into humanity's most primal desires.
She was a goddess of desire.
"Hello, Daenerys." The goddess with heterochromatic eyes showed no guilt like a thief caught in the act. Instead, she greeted Dany calmly with a smile.
Unexpectedly, her voice was soft and sweet, yet carried no trace of seduction.
"I'm fine, but you won't be for long," Dany said coldly, narrowing her eyes.
"Don't misunderstand. I haven't broken any rules." The goddess's autumn-moon-like face revealed a doting smile, the kind an elder gives a younger person, which made Dany very uncomfortable.
Then she raised her right hand. Red sand slipped away, revealing a pale wrist and slender fingers holding several human heads.
They were no larger than carrot-sized toy soldiers.
There were men and women, the oldest in their forties and the youngest only in their teens. Their features bore a faint resemblance to one another, suggesting they were family or close relatives.
Each soul was wrapped in a pink thread of faith, tied to the goddess's fingers.
This meant they were her followers, or had once borrowed her power.
Dany glanced down at the castle below.
It stood like a ruin on a seaside cliff, with walls and buildings that looked worn and neglected.
Yet the castle covered a large area, and its layout was grand and imposing. In its prime, it must have been magnificent.
In fact, the history of the Crag of House Westerling was as ancient as that of the Lannisters and Starks. The castle had already been built during the Age of Heroes.
Even Winterfell had seen many structures collapse over time. The Crag's ability to maintain its overall structure until now was already a marvel of architecture.
Many castles in Westeros would be considered miracles on Earth, with histories spanning eight thousand years.
Having recognized the place, Dany could also guess the identities of the souls in the goddess's hand.
She even had a vague idea of what had happened tonight.
"They have indulgences."
Dany's face was hidden beneath a hood formed of shadows, but her voice was cold, causing the goddess's relaxed smile to wither away.
The disappearance of her smile was like a blooming rose wilting before one's eyes, evoking pity and a desire to stop it at any cost.
Dany felt a chill run over her skin, goosebumps rising.
The "Merciful Mother's Palm" was itching to strike.
"They are my followers," the goddess emphasized.
"They were. But from the moment they wore indulgences, they ceased to be," Stranger Dany replied.
After a moment of silence, the goddess's star-like eyes flickered. "They are not only my followers. They have also borrowed my divine power.
In fact, their family has worshipped me for hundreds of years. This isn't the first time I've come to Westeros to guide my followers' souls."
"That was before. Now it's no longer allowed." Stranger Dany had just been looking for evil gods to feast on with the black dragon and Quaithe. Now that one had delivered itself to her doorstep, there was no way she would let it go.
"Everyone knows Westeros is now my domain, and I set the rules.
According to my rules, you have only two choices. Enter the Great Sept willingly and pray to the Mother for five hundred years to atone, or let me slap you to death."
The goddess clearly hadn't expected the Dragon Queen to be so domineering. Her red lips parted slightly, and she seemed momentarily stunned.
"How can you be like this…" the beauty said resentfully.
Stranger Dany raised her right hand. Green wind and blazing fire gathered in her palm. In the next moment, she would strike down this divine avatar.
The enchanting goddess turned pale and hurriedly said, "Wait! Listen to me. I have permission to enter Westeros."
"Who gave you permission?" Dany paused, curious.
"Brynden. Brynden the Three-Eyed Crow. Daenerys, I'm actually a Targaryen too. Both you and I are descendants of Aegon IV—the Unworthy."
The goddess once again showed that gentle, indulgent gaze she had at their first meeting.
"Shit… you're… Shiera Seastar?"
Looking at those blue and green eyes, Dany immediately recalled the famous highborn bastard.
Aegon IV was like Robert's "king template," fathering more bastards than even he could count. But only those born of noble mothers could become highborn bastards.
For example, Daemon Blackfyre—his mother was Daena Targaryen, sister of the Blessed Baelor.
At the time, six bastards were officially legitimized with inheritance rights: three sons and three daughters. Shiera Seastar was the youngest among them.
Dany asked curiously, "What exactly are you now? An avatar of the goddess of desire? Or are you the goddess herself? Or were you reincarnated into the Targaryen royal family as the goddess of desire?"
(End of Chapter)
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