After a few more days of the same routine, he finally found an opportunity to explore the abandoned Dragonpit, searching for any dragon eggs that might be hidden inside.
His internal urgency regarding the dragon eggs grew daily. So, when Barristan was dispatched on an assignment, he brought a few newly bribed guards to The Dragonpit. He didn't tell them he was looking for dragon eggs, only that they were going on an adventure.
After passing through the foul, narrow alleys of Flea Bottom, one could see the ruins of The Dragonpit looming abruptly in the southeastern corner of King's Landing, like a hideous, unhealed scar.
Rather than a building, it looked more like a giant skeleton, utterly consumed by both time and fury.
The magnificent structure, once covered by a splendid dome, was now reduced to several segments of charred, curved stone walls pointing stubbornly toward the sky, resembling the broken ribs of a dying dragon.
The massive stone gate, once carved with the Targaryen Family crest, had long since collapsed, its shattered blocks half-buried in the soil and overgrown by thick moss and tenacious weeds.
Sunlight streamed directly through the gaps in the collapsed dome, illuminating the shocking desolation within.
The ground was covered in thick layers of rubble, a mix of charred beams, shattered bricks, and ashes of unknown origin, which rustled underfoot.
Several massive pillars, requiring multiple people to embrace, were snapped in half, jutting out from the ruins at bizarre angles, silently recounting the brutality of the riot.
A peculiar scent permeated the air—not just the damp mildew and the stench of bird and beast droppings, but deeper down, a faint, almost imperceptible smell of scorching.
The entire space was terrifyingly silent, save for the wind passing through the broken remains, emitting a low, muffled sob, as if countless dragon and human ghosts were mourning their grievances.
The atmosphere weighed heavily on the heart of everyone who paused there.
Viserys's heart pounded in his chest, filled with the excitement of exploring the unknown, yet tinged with an indescribable sadness.
He gathered his spirits and began a systematic search, guided by his current intuition.
He focused on checking walls that appeared structurally sound and might conceal hidden compartments or secret passages, tapping them gently with the small dagger he carried, listening for an echo.
He also squeezed into some side chambers and corridors that hadn't completely collapsed; they were much darker, illuminated only by the faint light filtering through cracks and the torches carried by his attendants.
In a circular depression that appeared to be the foundation of a former dragon's nest, he noticed something unusual—the stones there were darker, as if they had been subjected to extremely high temperatures for a long time, clearly different from the surroundings.
He squatted down, carefully brushing away the surface dirt and gravel with his hand. His fingertips touched some hard, black solidified matter, formed by the melting of sand and rock under extreme heat.
This confirmed for him that a dragon must have resided here for a long time; it was very likely a dragon's lair.
He dug harder, yet found nothing except a few larger fragments of melted rock and the bones of some goat-like animals.
The hours of searching ultimately proved fruitless.
But he did not give up. After all, if dragon eggs were that easy to find, someone would have discovered them long ago.
He considered this exploration a valuable reconnaissance mission, at least allowing him to familiarize himself with The Dragonpit's environment in preparation for his next visit.
However, the setback in exploring The Dragonpit made Viserys place more hope in Summerhall.
He began consciously searching through the historical documents the Maesters (not Pycelle; King's Landing has Assistant Maesters besides the Grand Maester) brought him to read, looking for records concerning "The King Who Should Have Been" Aegon V and the tragedy of Summerhall.
Official records were not detailed, only emphasizing an "unfortunate accidental fire," and nothing more. After all, this was a source of shame for the Targaryen Family and destabilized the family's rule further.
Therefore, it was impossible for the family to record details for posterity. The only place with complete records should be The Citadel, but Viserys would not consider going to The Citadel now, at least not before he acquired a dragon.
However, in fragments of poems by some Bards, he caught different pieces of information, such as Aegon V's obsession with dragons: "seven whole dragon eggs," "flames consumed hope," and "the closest attempt to dragons since Aegon the Dragon King," and so on.
These fragmented pieces of information might very well be prophetic hints, as this world still has magic and so-called gods, and seemingly unusual things can often contain prophecies.
He secretly resolved that he must find a suitable reason and opportunity to visit Summerhall within the next few months.
At the same time, he constantly kept an eye on the political undercurrents within The Red Keep.
For example, he noted that the current hand of the king, Owen Merryweather, was nothing more than a yes-man.
The one who truly had the ear of The Mad King was Varys, the perpetually smiling man with a smooth voice and mysterious origins.
And Grand Maester Pycelle, the man with the long white beard who seemed senile yet firmly held his seat as the representative of The Citadel.
Varys was like a spider hidden behind luxurious tapestries—it was no wonder his nickname was The Spider—and his "Little Birds" were everywhere.
Viserys had "casually encountered" the Master of Whisperers multiple times in the corridors or courtyards, and the eunuch always bowed humbly.
He would greet him in that inscrutable tone: "Good day, Your Grace Viserys, may all your affairs go smoothly today."
Those all-seeing eyes always seemed to pierce through his childish exterior to see something deeper, sending a chill down Viserys's spine.
He had to be doubly careful; any words or actions beyond his age could attract the attention of The Spider and bring unpredictable danger.
Varys was, in fact, a dangerous person.
Looking back at his actions in the original work, he publicly supported the dynasty of Robert Baratheon, but secretly, he and Illyrio had long been funding the original claimant, Viserys Targaryen, who was exiled overseas.
After the original claimant died at the hands of Khal Drogo in the Dothraki Grass Sea, Varys shifted his hopes to Daenerys, but this, too, was merely a layer of deceptive smoke.
As far as I know, his true core investment was "Young Griff," Aegon Targaryen, who was allegedly "resurrected" and hidden within the Golden Company.
Because this young Aegon had been firmly held in Varys's grasp since childhood, everything was arranged, making him more trustworthy.
Furthermore, he constantly claimed that what he sought was only a wise and just king who could bring peace and prosperity to Westeros.
However, only a fool would believe such high-sounding rhetoric.
Weren't the standards for his so-called "wisdom" and "justice" entirely determined by Varys himself?
This was like buying a Blind Box online; the buyer never knows what's inside, but the merchant who placed the item knows perfectly well, and he would never make a losing deal.
And Varys was precisely the person who meticulously prepared the "Blind Box" and attempted to market his chosen king to the entire realm.
From beginning to end, he was choosing a king for himself, treating the supreme royal power as a chess game he could manipulate from behind the scenes.
Grand Maester Pycelle, on the other hand, was like a wilting vine deeply rooted in The Red Keep.
He always spoke slowly, appearing to be on his last legs.
Moreover, he never directly opposed The Mad King's various insane commands, sometimes even providing "academic support," such as treatises on the potency of wildfire.
But Viserys, having read the original work, knew that this seemingly dying old man was merely a disguise.
After all, a decade later, he still had the stamina to diligently "cultivate" the beautiful prostitute Ros from The North, multiple times a night. He looked quite robust, even if only vigorous in bed.
Furthermore, this man must have already pledged allegiance to the Lannister Family, having previously worked alongside Tywin Lannister when the latter served as hand of the king.
He was impressed by Tywin Lannister's sheer power, efficiency, and ruthless methods, believing that only Tywin was truly fit to be hand of the king.
Therefore, during his later tenure as Grand Maester, he only feigned agreement with others, reserving his unreserved and total obedience solely for Tywin.
These thoughts constantly revolved in Viserys's mind, making him realize even more that The Red Keep was a giant chessboard, and he was just a seemingly insignificant, easily sacrificed pawn.
He had to quickly accumulate the strength to jump off the board before the players noticed him.
Meanwhile, the atmosphere within The Red Keep made him feel increasingly oppressed.
The Mad King Aerys's temper was becoming increasingly unstable. A few days ago, a young guard, merely because the friction of his armor made a slightly grating sound as the King passed, was harshly accused by the King of being a "Traitor Intending Assassination." Without even a chance to defend himself, Aerys immediately ordered the Kingsguard to drag him out and execute him.
Furthermore, an old maid who had served for many years accidentally broke a vase that wasn't even expensive. Aerys furiously deemed this an "ill omen" and a "curse sent by the gods," ordering her locked in the dampest, darkest cell of The Red Keep's Black Cells, left to perish.
This further solidified Viserys's judgment: this family and The Red Keep were rotten to the core, needing complete destruction and rebirth.
He had to gather strength quickly and leave this powder keg that was about to explode.
He had also seen Rhaegar a few times from a distance.
The Prince of Dragonstone always had a slight frown, seemingly lost in thoughts that others couldn't comprehend.
Viserys sneered internally, knowing that those thoughts were likely about the dream prophecies concerning "The Prince That Was Promised," "a song of ice and fire," and that damned "The Dragon Must Have Three Heads."
The past "spoilers" made him dislike this tragic figure, even feeling a hint of annoyance.
It was this obsession with vague prophecies that ultimately dragged the entire family into the abyss of eternal doom.
But he had made his plans: he would let Rhaegar follow his originally destined path.
Viserys would not interfere, as it was easy to get burned; he had his own path to follow.
Regarding Ashara Dayne, Viserys had not taken direct action yet.
A five-year-old body was excellent camouflage, but also a huge constraint. Any age-inappropriate display of abnormal interest in a Dornish noblewoman would attract unnecessary, even fatal, trouble.
But through subtle inquiries, he learned that Ashara was currently still in Starfall in Dorne, only occasionally coming to King's Landing to visit her brother Arthur and call upon Elia Martell.
He only needed to wait patiently for the right moment.
As for Brandon Stark, the heir to The North famous for his wild behavior, if the opportunity arose, Viserys wouldn't mind giving him a little push at some point in the future, hastening "The Wild Wolf" toward his predestined end.
This might fundamentally alter Ashara's fate.
Night fell once again, enveloping all of King's Landing like a giant black velvet curtain.
Viserys dismissed the maidservants and sat alone by the cold window.
"Chaos is not a pit. Chaos is a ladder."
He softly repeated Littlefinger's words, a cold, severe curve appearing on his lips that was inappropriate for his age.
A voice in his heart kept telling him that what he needed would be obtained soon. This might be a prophecy similar to a "Precognitive Dream." He didn't want to be swayed by this feeling, yet it was so mysterious and profound that it was impossible to fathom.