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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 63: KILL THE MASTERS
Summary:
🎄 Merry xmas! 🎄
Notes:
I'm just speed running Dany conquering the rest of the slave cities here, otherwise we'll never get done
Chapter Text
The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. The sea side city was scattered with buildings of tiled rooftops, iron spikes and curved marble. In the far distance the waning sunlight glinted off the ocean, the numerous ships upon the water akin to shadows.
Down below the balcony within the white marble courtyard was an immense fountain, with twelve trees ringing it. Their branches were bare and creaking in the wind even as the cool autumn air swept past, carrying the distant scents of spices from the distant harbour. Ornate lanterns were scattered about the courtyard, the candleglow gleaming in a rainbow of colours through the delicate stained glass panels. The towers of the manse stretched high above the courtyard, brick walls lined with ivy and crawling rose bushes even if they had gone limp and dull in the growing cold sweeping across Essos.
Upon the balcony where he sat upon an ash oak chair with thick velvet cushions was am exquisite carved table laden with food; thickly buttered hot bread with fresh figs and a platter of cheese of a dozen different shapes and colours, a plateful of fat little roasted quail that had been soaked in a pepper brine with an accompaniment of roasted vegetables, diced duck livers and several marinated eels coiled like snakes within their broth. Two crystal goblets sat upon the table, filled with pale Pentoshi amber.
Illyrio Mopatis was clad in his usual robes of red and orange, adorned with glittering embroidery and heavy enough to ward off the growing night chill. His forked beard gleamed gold in the torchlight and his fat neck dabbed thick with perfume. As always he had a rainbow of gemstones adorning his hands; onyx and opal, tiger's eye paired with a fat tourmaline, ruby, amethyst, sapphire, emerald, jet and jade clustered, a thick black diamond, and a green pearl the size of a goat's eye upon his thumb. The gems sparkled as he ate his way through one of the roasted quail, watching the silent woman seated across from him.
She was clad in the night, dark and imperious and dangerous.
Her dress was pure black, made from the fabled silk of Naath that caused it to shimmer and sparkle as if diamond dust was scattered across the lavish fabric. The inner sleeves and hood of her gown were lined in crimson silk while the bodice was slashed in front almost to her belly, the deep vee covered over with an elaborate panel of ornate Myrish lace in crimson as bright as freshly spilled blood. The black skirt was long and full, waist tight, but when the woman shifted in place it showed boots of gleaming leather, polished to an onyx shine, instead of slippers or sandals. Someone who was ready and able to run if need be.
At her throat was a choker of gold, with more gold at her fingers and dripping from her ears with the metal occasionally dotted with rubies and black diamonds. Her thick hair had been tugged back in neat braiding across her skull before spilling free at her nape in a bundle of curls, golden thread weaved through the gleaming strands. Gold dusted her full lips, with more streaked across her upper eyelids while crimson dusted the lower lids. At her breast, pinned to the black silk, was a broach of gold with a beast-tooth held within the sculpted hand. Red, black, gold, to match the personalized herald of the empress she served.
Missandei of Naath was a beautiful woman but her dark skin and hair, accompanied by golden eyes, were not to his taste. He preferred them pale, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and lacking the danger shimmering within their limbs as the Hand of the Empress exhibited. But Illyrio had not lived so long for nothing, and he knew the Naathi spoke with all the authority of the empress and as such he listened well.
"I do hope this humble abode does not give insult to our empress," Illyrio said, gesturing to the silent manse looming over them. "It is one of my lesser manses, robbed of the splendor of my main house."
"It does well enough," came the calm reply. "I do apologize for any inconvenience this meeting may cause, with the heightened discretion asked of you."
"I am ever at our empress's demand. Though I hear tell it is Her Imperial Highness instead of Her Grace?"
"That is the correct term for her rank, yes."
"Aye the glorious return of the Valyrian empire some say, even if our dear empress is less cruel than her ancestors," he said, pulling the plate of quail close and beginning to delicately dismantle one. "I have oft made japes about the men of Westeros, of how they would sew some beast upon a scrap of silk, and suddenly that whole line is of lions and dragons and direwolves and griffons. Yet it holds true for our empress, does it not? Considering the wild tales I have heard I would say she is far more akin to her herald than the rest. Ghiscari slave cities that were old when the world was young yet she has shattered their spirits and horded their lost slaves for her own."
"You have played a long game in your support, some may claim," Missandei said, eyes sharp despite the gentle smile that adorned her face.
"Perhaps I am overstepping, yet I see Daenerys as the daughter I never had," Illyrio said, sucking the meat from the quail's leg before putting it aside. He picked up one of the figs, continuing in wistful tones, "She spent many moons sheltered in my home, such a shy and delicate girl she had been. Like a baby bird pushed from the nest too soon. The gentle wealth and luxury of Pentos suited her well, with the violet and plum coloured dresses I gifted to her, the silver bracelets and velvet slippers. She had been quiet, watchful, unlike that fool brother of hers, may the gods watch over him. I remember when she had been clad in her wedding silks and she accepted by gift of the eggs. How intently she beheld them, how she cradled one to her breast as if it were a child. They had been turned to stone through the eons yet she sang life back into them upon the Great Grass Sea. The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. I have never been more proud when I heard of how she became Mother of Dragons."
"Technically it is just the one."
"Ah, but 'Mother of a Dragon' does not quite roll off the tongue as well, does it not? And our empress has one with three heads. I say that is enough. She has grown into a splendid woman, the most beautiful and powerful in all the world."
Beyond the walls of the manse the chanting of the red priests could be heard, as they sung their evening adorations for their fiery god as the last streak of sunlight began to seep from the sky. Despite the coolness of autumn, the frost licking the streets when dawn rose, the air felt inviting like a lover extending her arms towards him. Illyrio was unsure how much of it was due to Daenerys; the red priests spoke every day about the virtues of their Bride of Fire. The wife to R'hllor. He had never been more proud.
"Forgive my bluntness," Missandei said, hands folding primly upon her lap. "But I see you would seek a return in your investment?"
"I seek only continued friendship," Illyrio said, swallowing down the last of his fig and reaching for another. "Not all that a man does is done for gain, not all a man does is for gold or glory. Believe as you wish, but even fat old fools like me have friends, and debts of affection to repay. And for the gentle sweet girl who I harboured within my home for many moons I only wish to see her continue to prosper. I may have lent her a hand yet she is the one whom seized the opportunities before her."
"Our empress has power and gold and soldiers and her child, she may remember you fondly for your years of shelter yet those days of needing it are far behind her."
"You can never have enough friends in this world and I have friends all across the world. Those in Westeros are especially loud."
"So the rumours of you aiding King Aegon are indeed a truth," Missandei said but Illyrio could tell she had already known such a thing.
"I make no denial of my interests," he said easily, spreading his glittering fingers. "Long have I been loyal to the Targaryens and they have proven their worth. A king and an empress, dragons brought back from extinction itself. The world has turned anew. Stannis is dead, Cersei is dead, House Baratheon and House Bolton extinct, the North returned to the throne, dragons fly above King's Landing.
"They say Jon Snow rules as regent upon Winterfell."
"They also say he's mad and unholy and the only reason why the northmen did not kill him for abandoning his post at the Wall was due to him and his wildling army helping retake Winterfell, restoring it back to Eddard Stark's trueborn son," Illyrio shrugged, picking up his goblet and taking a long drink. He never understood the northmen and their obsession with their winter and shivering holds.
"I wish good fortune upon Rickon Stark and his future as Lord of Winterfell. He has lost much for one so young."
"Yet gained so much in return. None would presume a third-born son to inherit that ancient icy seat much less be invited to the King's Landing to sup with the king. Ah, I wish I could have been there for such a meeting, considering the history between those two families."
"Both were not even born when the rebellion occurred," Missandei said. "To punish one for actions committed before their own birth is a mad cruelty."
"Still does not mean revenge were not upon their minds," Illyrio said before he sighed and took a sip from his goblet. "Yet it would seem our king is soft upon children, even ones half mad like the feral Stark boy and his ghoulish bastard protector. There is even some whispers that perhaps the Sansa girl is being offered a bride for the dragon king's yet still unclaimed hand, despite her wedding her way through half the noble Houses. I would be a liar if I did not claim I would prefer our dear Daenerys upon the Iron Throne, however."
"Her Imperial Highness seeks friendship and prosperity with King Aegon, not war," Missandei's eyes were like pools of molten gold, almost glowing in the torchlight as the sky grew darker.
"Friendship and prosperity that could be met with marriage," Illyrio pointed out as he bit from a roasted pepper. "Our king has remained without a queen at his side and my friend at King's Landing says he speaks very highly of his aunt."
"The imperial retinue will reach Pentos within the week, the empress does have plans to met with the king of Westeros at a future point yet I do not heard of any impending betrothals," Missandei said. "After all, she is the Empress of Essos, a Westerosi queen she will not be."
"King Aegon can be persuasive."
"Perhaps he will be, yet he has nothing to tempt her for all her children are within Essos. Even her golden son will be well beyond his dragons."
"Ah yes, the Golden Demise. I have heard that even at such a young age he is now near Balerion the Black Dread's own bulk."
"Some may say that. However I have never beheld Balerion's skull much less when it was cloaked in flesh," Missandei said as she leaned forward, tracing the gleaming lips of the goblet with a finger.
It had been many, many years since Illyrio had lived his days as a sellsword but he recognized the callouses upon her fingertips from one familiar with a blade. That did remind him of the news that Daenerys had reclaimed her ancestral sword, after that incident involving the Golden Company. Curiouser and curiouser.
"I suppose that will be a debate for the philosophers for years to come, dragons as such mysterious creatures," Illyrio shifted in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his bulk. "But our empress has tamed them all the same, just as she has done for the horselords of Essos. One will wonder how our trade will fare, with the Dothraki being removed."
Missandei's features hardened, "The empire will not tolerate slavery in any regard. The Dothraki had to be given an alternative life to lead as there is no compromise."
Illyrio spread his hands in supplication, "I do not offer offense. Indeed using them as the attacking forces upon the slave cities spoke of our empress's wisdom. Though I did hear tell that Qothor offered up quite the resistance. Then again one would expect that of the City of Sorcerers."
The Hand's face shifted back to bland neutrality even as she settled back, "Indeed. Their great smithies and magics combined caused fantastical damage and many, many Dothraki lost their lives. Yet that is one of the risks of war, the blood must be shed if we ever hope to drag Essos into a new age."
Illyrio made an agreeing noise; it was certainly far better to lose the Dothraki in tens of thousands to the City of Sorcerers than the Unsullied. He heard tell the empress had to fly her beast to Qothor to finally bring the city to its knees. However he did not know the peculiars of the weaponry Qothor had employed, beyond one account speaking of huge ballista hewn from an inky black stone that flung great arrows of magic and fire and molten metal that caused catastrophic damage upon impact. He was not sure how much truth there was to such rumours, however.
"What is left of the slave nations are barely a nuisance," Missandei said. "Lys in particular had the wisdom to chose surrender."
"The greatest of bed-slaves may come from Lys, but they certainly don't boast of soldiers upon the isle."
"Yet many others tried to fight the turning of the world and fared badly," the Lady Hand said, even as she idly toyed with one of the ruby rings upon her fingers.
"And yet still the empire grows. Volantis especially welcomed her gladly. The triarchs burned alive, slave masters dragged from their homes and beaten to death within the streets at the herald of the red faith. I heard the tales, of her godly husband. How fire will never harm her, how she can walk through the hottest of infernos unscathed."
"Indeed it does," Missandei acknowledged. "You may not be a devout man yet you hold your faith to our empress closely. What is you hope to gain? And it is not simple friendship."
"That is all I wish, could it not be so?"
"Then why did you aid Tyrion Lannister in escaping King's Landing after he killed King Joffrey and Tywin Lannister?"
"Perhaps things have changed, I would think there was no love lost between House Targaryen and House Lannister," Illyrio said, not even bothering to act surprised the Hand knew of the imp. Instead he fished out one of the marinated eels, swallowing it down whole.
"There isn't, but that is not to say the empress would welcome a kinslayer into her court."
"So she did not kill Lord Tyrion?"
"He has committed no crimes against her, but neither has she welcomed him. And in Westeros House Lannister has been stripped of its castle and wealth, only the girl Myrcella remains and she now lives within Sunspear. It is just a shade and within a generation will be gone. Lord Tyrion is a lord no more. He is simple folk now and Her Imperial Highness has no use for him."
"Ah such a pity. I had rescued him, sheltered him, at the behest of my friend within King's Landing. It was our hope the imp could bring counsel to Daenerys, that he would be of use. After all, he killed two of her greatest enemies and when not drunk he had quite the wit to him. A different way of looking at the world, as a dwarf could know. Still, even if Tyrion did not become what I hoped Griff and his charge became far more than I ever hoped to dream. Just like Daenerys herself."
"The Golden Company did reap the rewards of taking the Seven Kingdoms, even if they had been well bruised and battered after the War of the Five Kings. And that incident at Oldtown," she added that last part as more an afterthought.
Quite frankly Illyrio still did not know most of the details of the catastrophic battle that had occurred at Oldtown. Some claimed the ironborn had perfected their own type of wildfire and had used that to blow up the High Tower, others claimed Euron Greyjoy had summoned a huge seabeast from the depths that tore apart half of the city. The reports were still very unclear as to just what had actually happened, besides the usual reaving and pillaging and a burning, razed city.
"A city of hundreds of thousand and yet none could keep a story straight," Illyrio sighed. "Still, it is no King's Landing so it is not much of my concern. I have heard however, that Casterly Rock is intended to be gifted to one of the ironborn."
"Not gifted, negotiated," Missandei tilted her head to the side, the lamplight shimmering off the gold at her throat and ears. "Lady Yara has been a valuable ally to our empress, especially in terms of naval warfare and trade. In exchange the empress has sworn to advocate House Greyjoy's interest in acquiring land. Casterly Rock is one such property upon the negotiation table, especially with the gifts Her Imperial Highness has already bestowed upon King's Landing with Lady Yara delivering them personally. The Old Ways cannot be tolerated, and Lady Greyjoy is determined to snub it out."
"Considering how many of those mad ironborn died recently I would say it is easier to convince the rest," Illyrio said, chomping his way through a wedge of blue-veined cheese. "It is a good enough tactics, to let the fools die and deal with the rest. At least then you need not worry about some fumbling when you least want it. You would think the ironborn would have learned, after that fool Baelon Greyjoy and the mess he made. I am not a man inclined to war but him denying the Young Wolf was a very strange decision indeed. Perhaps the empress would tread carefully where the krakens lurk, backstabbers and oathbreakers the lot be."
"The storms brought about by autumn are challenging enough for some, skilled sailors of what we want when winter fully settles," Missandei pointed out. "And Lady Yara has been steadfast and truthful in her aid to our empress, and she acts upon behalf of her sister Lady Asha Greyjoy."
"Is there not a brother within that House? Perhaps he is the intended for our Daenerys, since she holds not interest in then king."
"It seems you've thought oft of whom our empress will marry."
"Is that such an oddity? Her last marriage was to a Dothraki Khal which I helped oversee upon behalf of her brother the Beggar King. True, she turned that to her advantage but even an empress needs a husband. If not only to wring an heir from his loins. It is said she is even ignoring the Dornish prince who follows at her heels."
"Prince Quentyn is a welcomed addition to Empress Daenerys's court, he is steadfast and trustworthy," Missandei said diplomatically.
Which Illyrio knew meant the boy was boring and unsure of himself. At the very least he didn't have the fire his sister Arianne had. Illyrion knew from his friend the Dornish princess had tried immensely hard to wrest the last of Baratheons into the bosom of Dorne, the same way her father had horded Princess Myrcella away. But while Doran had succeed Arianne had failed and now a quiet scarred novice had been added to the ranks of holy women within King's Landing.
"But unworthy as a husband," Illyrio said after taking apart another quail. Across from him, the Naathi had only eaten a piece of sugared pear and ignored her wineglass entirely.
"The empress must be highly selective upon who she may chose," Missandei said. "If you have some ideas yourself, then you may offer them when she reaches Pentos."
"Myself? I would encourage the empress to marry for love," Illyrio smiled. "She has all the power and wealth she can, she is now one of the rare few in her position who can look for love if she so chooses. I did so with Serra."
He wiped off his greasy fingers upon a handkerchief before pulling out a silver locket from the voluminous billows of his clothing. Opening it with the deftness of long practice, he showed it to Missandei; Inside was a painted likeness of a woman with big blue eyes and pale golden hair streaked by silver.
"My Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos, one of noble blood yet I chose a pillow house worker to follow in her stead. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter as the Prince of Pentos was enraged with whom I had taken to replace my first lost wife, but I did not care. The price was small enough, for Serra."
"Yet she is no more."
"Yes, the grey death. Carried into Pentos upon a Braavosi trading galley. We killed the oarsman who came ashore, burned the ship within the docks yet the grey-riddled rats swam their way ashore. Two thousand died before it ran its course, and my Serra was one of them. I keep her hands in my bedchamber. Her hands that were so soft, she would speak as much with them as she would her mouth. It grieves me still, to lose my Serra, but I am one of the lucky few who found love. Many of my status wed for ever more status. Yet our sweet Daenerys can now chose with her heart. Perhaps I am biased but I would still advocate for King Aegon yet that is upon my behalf as one loyal to House Targaryen. He certainly is content waiting."
"Then I fear he will be doing so for a long while. Yet those as discussions for when king and empress met one another."
"So you say, Lady of Naath. We should not speak for either of the dragonlords even if you hold the truth closest to you. But it is something I've learned in my many years and own experiences, that keeps and gold are nothing compared to a lover's kiss. The empress should guard her heart well even after she finds one to grant the key to, especially with such a son at her command. Perhaps I am overstepping as well, but the blood of Old Valyria runs thick in Lys and their loyalty to the red god is far less. I would not be surprised if assassins try to creep about and some try to claim her dragon if she falls. The Dance branded that folly about, that any lowborn fool can tame such beasts. The king has even executed a score at King's Landing for such a thing, I've been told."
Missandei hummed softly, golden eyes bright in the night which now well and truly had swallowed Pentos. The burn of torches and lanterns all across the city cast a dull glow across the distant streets and buildings and there were swarms of fireflies down below at the garden. Missandei seemed to blend into the night if not for the shimmering sparkles to her silken dress of Naath that made it seem to be spun from the night sky itself in the dark. Already he was thinking upon that legendary silk, and how he might establish a trade line now that the raiders had been smashed to cinders by the dragon empress.
"So is that your desire?" Missandei asked, leaning forward to tap a polished fingernail upon the tabletop. "To guide our empress to a proper match?"
Illyrio laughed, "I am not so foolish as to presume the heart of a dragon. But I would not be remiss if the empress chooses to reward me for my guardianship all those years. If Robert Baratheon wished it, he could have demanded my head for sheltering the last two dragons beneath my arms. I put myself in peril, due to my faith in the Targaryens."
"What is it you seek?"
"I only seek to be given the position Viserys had once promised me," Illyrio said, spreading his hands. "Once it had been Casterly Rock and a lordship promised to me by the Beggar King but I have no desire for the mundane castles of Westeros. Especially if the krakens are eyeing it. No, I simply request I be offered a position as Master of Coin. I am fond of coins. Is there any sound as sweet as the clink of gold on gold?"
"That is a Westerosi rank. Do you wish for the empress to reach out to the king upon your behalf?"
"I am content dying in Pentos but with an empire our Daenerys will still need those in place to direct things. She has not chosen a proper roost, has she not? And I know she has plans for Pentos when she reaches it and the Sealord of Braavos is already a close friend. I have no doubt she will wish to anoint her own in control of Pentos, or at the very least voice her loud approval for some who have their words to the ear of the dragon."
Illyrio looked out across the glowing horizon of a thousand torches, sweeping out an arm with all the grandeur of a stage actor, "Pentos is rife with trade and close to Westeros, from spices and gemstones to dragonbone and silks. Those who pass through the Jade Gates eventually find their way here before they cross the Narrow Sea. Those of the Arbor and Dorne, trade from King's Landing and Braavos- it all passes through here. If the empress wishes to keep that trade flowing and to keep apace of which goes where to ensure her empire continues to prosper then she will need those she can trust to be in place to safeguard it. I have been a magisters for many years and have proven my loyalty in offering Empress Daenerys and her brother succor when they were driven from their home. I only humbly request the empress repays my kindness."
Pentos still held the low drone of noise even in the darkness; with autumn the night fell ever so quickly and many still had work in the night before they could retire for the evening. He had heard tales of in some winters there would only be an hour of sunlight. Illyrio eyed the torch-dotted skyline before looking back at his companion.
Missandei was watching him attentively but nothing gave away her thoughts.
"You wish to serve our empress?"
He took his goblet, swallowing down another mouthful before placing the empty crystal glass down with a sharp tap. "Have I not been serving her for years? I have watched and whispered, spread my information to my many friends across Essos and within Westeros. All out of loyalty to House Targaryen. Perhaps I did not think for Daenerys at first and instead pinned my hope upon her brother, yet I still gave her the dragon eggs. I only ask to be rewarded and I do not think that is a foolish thing to ask."
"No, it is not. Yet you still deal in a trade our empress loathes."
"Slaves? There are not slaves in Pentos. Braavos forced Pentos to abolish slavery and withdraw from the slave trade. Braavos has since limited the Pentoshi military forces and prevented the city from hiring sellswords. It was why we were unbothered by the empress killing those members of the Golden Company in her brief visit here."
Missandei's eyes seemed to sharpen, even as she leaned forward so her elbows were upon the table with her chin resting upon her folded hands, "No? I am close to the empress, as her Hand. We have no secrets and I know of how she was sold to Khal Drogo. An event you ensured occurred. A young girl, sold to a warlord. Treated as chattel."
Illyrio settled back in his chair, limbs warm and lax as he said, "Yet she turned that unfortunate event in such a great success. She even killed the other khals and took all the Dothraki for her own."
"An odd claim, for one who sees her as the daughter he never had."
"The khals do not sell or buy. They trade," Illyrio said, stroking his yellow forked beard even as he began to wish for his bed. "Is that not akin to how Westerosi marriages are held? There are advantages and disadvantages to each match. Some may say Khal Drogo lost standing, as our Daenerys was without land or holds or dragons. All she came bearing was her looks of Old Valyria."
"I have heard that claim oft about the Dothraki yet oddly enough they sell and trade enough slaves they were the backbone to the economy of it across Westeros. Odd indeed if they never buy anything. You certainly gained many slaves when our empress was sold like a prize mare."
Illyrio hummed, eyes half lidded as he said, "Yet what is done is done. Our Daenerys did not try to flee her marriage. Instead she smiled all throughout the feast, accepted the silver filly and left without a single protest. And she rose with dragons, carved an empire through fire and blood and restored the glory of the Valyrian empire. She had once been a frightened girl yet no more."
"And you believe you had an aid in that?"
"I protected her."
"You sold her. Do you believe she still holds affection for you? Or values you as an ally after such a thing? Her son chose her for who she is, not because of your actions."
Ah, Illyrio understood. The Naathi was not just a Hand but a dear companion. Those golden eyes were as cold as the sea, the woman seemingly blending into the darkness barely speared by the lanterns. Like a great wild cat about to pounce. She was not offended upon behalf of her monarch but rather offended upon behalf of her friend. Women were such queer creatures.
Fighting off the urge to succumb to the allure of sleep, Illyrio instead said, "You were once a slave, were you not? Snatched from the white shores of Naath, stolen from your home and taken by the Good Masters. Or Wise Masters. Or whichever they were calling themselves at the time. Arranging a marriage for Daenerys is quite different from how you had been raised in chains, is it not?"
"The words of one who has never known chains."
"I understand enough, my lady."
"But certainly not enough to know or much less be of use. I have been around self serving men all my life and you are much the same."
"Are you going to kill me for that slight, Lady Hand?" Illyrio asked, amused and with half lidded eyes. "For the actions years past?"
"Don't be so foolish, I killed you a minute ago."
Illyrio stared at Missandei, who stared levelly back at him.
"What do..."
A flicker of gold as her gaze darted down to his empty goblet and back.
"Sweetsleep? But the taste..."
"It was a sibling to sweetsleep but certainly not as sweet," Missandei informed him. "A powder instead of a syrup, odorless and colorless and painless. I was gifted a vial from Asshai by a secret benefactor of our empress, they call it the inheritance powder. You should have been more careful with your cup, my lord. As decree of our empress, you are to be given a painless death due to your gift of dragon eggs to her, for she never forgot. But for your actions in slavery, in selling her to the Dothraki, death is all that remains. It is both your reward and punishment."
Illyrio tried to move but the lure of slumber was getting too great. Even now he could barely keep his eyes open even as Missandei took her untouched goblet and poured the wine into a nearby vase of roses. By the time she returned to the table, he had succumbed to sleep and would soon succumb to death.
Something none would truly question, a man of Illyrio's girth. Dying after yet another gracious feast. A pity it was without entourage.
Missandei left, footfalls silent as she swiftly made her way through the manse after tossing aside her goblet. She thumbed at the thick ruby upon her finger, shutting the tiny hinge back in place.
It was quiet within the manse, typically only used when entertaining guests or during grand events, and Missandei was undisturbed by any others until she reached the lowest level.
One of the servants, a woman with red hair and a broad face dotted with freckles, did not even blink at Missandei's appearance in the room. Even when the Naathi silent held out a coin-laden pouch and the woman took it, her brown eyes slid across Missandei as if she were not even there and she returned to making bars of lyre soap after slipping the pouch into her apron, ignoring Missandei disappearing inside the servant's entrance hidden near the larder. Down the cramped corridor, boots soundless upon the damp steps until she was outside beneath the dark sky with only a lone lantern hanging above.
Daario awaited her, leaning against the alley wall and idly picking at his nails with a short blade. He looked up, grinning at her approach as he pushed off from the wall.
"So how fares the illustrious Magister Illyrio?" he asked,
"Sadly he passed away during our talks," Missandei said primly, falling in step with the Tyroshi.
Daario let out an amused snort, "I do think you should have gone with your knives. You're the best lady I've ever seen with a dagger."
"I haven't an idea to what you are implying."
"Ah of course not. Yet we should still make haste across the city, I hear the night markets down at the docks make the best grilled squid you've ever tasted."
"As long as you have the coin," Missandei said. "I fear I have misplaced my coin purse."
Daario's laugh echoed down the narrow alleyway even as they turned down to one of the streets. Far across the night sky the moon was just beginning to peek over the horizon.
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