Daenerys Targaryen's lips curved into a faint smile as her violet eyes fixed on Jorah Mormont, who was answering her question with all seriousness.
When Jorah finished speaking, Daenerys slowly nodded.
"Ser, leaving one's home is a terrible feeling—I can relate to that. You should start anew."
She lowered her gaze to the gold bracelet Illyrio had given her. Inlaid with gleaming gemstones, it was both exquisite and lavish.
"Ser Jorah, I wish to hire you as my guard…"
As she spoke, Daenerys slipped the bracelet from her wrist and handed it to Borona at her side.
"Will this be enough?"
Borona stepped closer, and Jorah met her eyes.
Looking at her, Jorah was reminded of the women of Bear Island—warriors every bit the equal of men.
Borona was tall and powerfully built, her entire frame radiating strength. She was a battle-hardened fighter.
Ironborn, or wildlings from the Frozen Shore, often raided Bear Island while the men were away fishing, forcing the women to take up arms against the invaders. Over generations, this had forged a unique warrior culture among the island's women.
As the former Lord of Bear Island and head of House Mormont, Jorah was well acquainted with such women.
He shifted his gaze to the corpse lying on the floor.
Join… or die?
A faint curve tugged at his lips. As expected of Targaryen blood.
Reaching out, Jorah took the gold bracelet.
"Your Grace, you are most generous. I am now your sworn protector."
From what he had seen here, Daenerys had left him with no choice.
Hearing his firm answer, Daenerys quietly exhaled. She had no desire to harm an innocent man.
Viserys suddenly broke off his muttering and strode toward Daenerys.
His voice was sharp.
"Who did this? Was it you?!"
Borona stepped in to block him from reaching her.
Viserys nearly stamped his feet in rage.
"And who are you? Do you know who I am? I am Viserys of House Targaryen, the Third of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm—the one true king upon the Iron Throne!"
Daenerys trembled slightly, drawing in a quiet breath.
When Viserys advanced on her, all bluster and fury, her legs nearly carried her away of their own accord—as if she had lost control over them.
Jorah, quietly observing her, noticed her distress.
He stepped up beside Borona, his tall frame silently barring Viserys' path.
"You… you…"
Viserys glanced from side to side before shrieking,
"Jorah Mormont, do you dare betray your king?!"
Jorah's hand rested firmly on the hilt of his longsword.
"Forgive me, Your Grace. I have not betrayed you. I was once your guest—but now I am in the service of Her Grace the Princess, sworn to protect her life."
"You!"
Hatred flared in Viserys' eyes.
"Jorah Mormont! I will never forget your treachery!"
Jorah stood unmoved, resolutely holding his ground.
Daenerys finally regained command of her legs.
She fixed Viserys with her gaze.
"Brother, it was I who executed Illyrio. Are you trying to draw the Unsullied guards from the yard?"
After a pause, Viserys jabbed a finger at her from behind the guards.
"It was you! You ruined my plan! Without Illyrio, how am I to reclaim the Iron Throne?!"
Though his voice had lowered, the anger was plain to her.
The small figure of Daenerys moved forward.
"Thank you all. We cannot afford to waste more time. Move the bodies inside and prepare more fuel for the fire."
Jorah raised a hand to stop Borona from moving.
"Leave it to me."
Understanding, Borona simply nodded and remained at her post beside the princess.
"Brother, Illyrio sought to control us. Outwardly he seemed to aid you with all his strength, but in truth his aim was to turn you into a puppet he could bend at will."
Viserys blinked, then sneered.
"And how would you know that? Besides—what does it matter? Once I take the Iron Throne, I'll kill him."
Daenerys almost told him Illyrio would kill her first.
She also knew that Illyrio's cunning far outstripped Viserys', and by the time her brother realized it, every person around him would be Illyrio's creature.
And when Viserys had a child… that would be the end of him. An infant was easier to control, and Illyrio could rule in his name with perfect legitimacy.
Her recent conversations with Gawen Crabb had honed her thinking, and in an instant, she saw through Illyrio's scheme.
"Brother, give me some time, and I will prepare the army you need to take back the Iron Throne."
Viserys looked her up and down with scorn.
"You? And how long should I give you—ten years? Twenty?"
She shook her head, her eyes firm.
"Three years at most."
Viserys' gaze flickered, and he tested her.
"You truly have a way? But three years is far too long! I want to kill the Usurper tomorrow if I could. I'll give you one year at most."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Very well. One year."
Viserys froze, then broke into a pleased smile.
"My good sister—you alone understand me best. I need but ten thousand men, and I need the Iron Throne. Once I have it, I will not forget your service."
"Brother, I have one condition."
Barely restraining his excitement, Viserys urged,
"Name it! I will grant you anything!"
Daenerys glanced at Borona.
"When you reclaim the Iron Throne, I want you to grant Gawen Crabb the title of Duke of the Eyrie and give him the Vale to rule."
His smile thinned, brows knitting.
"In return, when your army lands in Westeros, Lord Crabb will march with ten thousand men to your aid."
Viserys laughed. With his ten thousand and Crabb's ten thousand, twenty thousand men would be enough.
"Since it is your request, of course I agree! I am a generous king, and this is my royal promise—when I retake the Iron Throne, the Vale will be Lord Crabb's!"
Privately, he thought darkly: the Usurper's War began with the Duke of Arryn—once I return, I'll see the entire Arryn line put to the sword.
Daenerys allowed herself a satisfied smile. The true dragon must ride.
When all was ready, Jorah handed her a torch.
"Thank you, Ser."
Daenerys accepted it, gazed at the mansion for a moment, then tossed the torch inside.
"Let's go."
She turned, ready to leave Illyrio's estate openly under cover of the fire.
"Wait."
Viserys stopped her.
"Daenerys, are you walking out the front gate? Have you forgotten you executed Illyrio?"
"Brother, no one knows yet. We must leave quickly—someone will meet us at the docks."
Years of fleeing supposed assassins had made Viserys an expert at evasion. At the memory, his expression hardened.
"I know a way that's quicker and avoids the guards."
She did not doubt him. Whether the assassins were real or imagined, they had shared a lifetime of mutual understanding.
"Lead the way."
Pleased at her deference, Viserys felt his grip on the situation return. With the fire spreading fast, he said no more and set off.
Pentos Harbor
Daenerys saw the man Gawen had once described as looking like a thief—Dick Rivers.
When he bowed, she bit back a smile.
Dick's eyes darted, taking in the silver-haired pair.
"Good evening, Your Grace. The ship is ready to sail at any time. Dick Rivers of House Crabb, at your service."
Daenerys smiled faintly.
"Thank you, Dick."
The group boarded the ship.
Small though she was, Daenerys found Dick walking at her side, lowering his voice.
"Your Grace, this ship was prepared especially for you by Lord Crabb. She's small, but very fast. Also, I've brought the twenty guards the lord left with the trading company for you. Along with the crew, they will follow and protect you wherever you go."
She let a small smile curl her lips, coughed lightly, and said,
"Dick Rivers of House Crabb, you've done well. Thank you."
Pleased, Dick straightened his back and all but beamed.
Not the steadiest sort, she thought, but quick-witted enough.
Just then, the captain called,
"Hurry it up—harbor patrol!"
Daenerys stopped and glanced back to see distant pinpricks of firelight.
Osanna drew her sword with a hiss.
"Your Grace, it's forbidden to sail at night from Pentos Harbor! Borona, stay here and guard the princess. I'll take a few men and deal with the patrol."
Daenerys nodded.
"Be careful, Osanna. I'll wait here."
Osanna inclined her head, called for several soldiers, and disembarked.
Borona urged the sailors on.
"Move it! Faster!"
The patrol, following the torchlight, grinned greedily—someone was breaking the law tonight. Easy money.
"Stop! Everyone on that ship, get down here!"
They hurried forward, only to find Osanna and her men waiting in silence.
"You do know—"
The words died as her blade slashed the captain's throat.
Swift as a striking snake, Osanna drove her sword into another man's chest, kicked him away, and let the blood run down the steel.
The rest scrambled to draw weapons.
Her next thrust took an enemy in the neck, and then the fight was joined in earnest.
Here, the Crab Claw Peninsula's advantage showed itself in full—these soldiers had survived countless battles. The Pentoshi patrol fell almost instantly, lying dead in spreading pools of blood.
"Weak," one of the Crabb soldiers scoffed.
Osanna wiped her blade on a corpse and sheathed it.
An arrow whistled through the night.
"It's me!"
A tall, lanky figure stepped from the shadows—Anguy.
Osanna took her hand from her hilt.
"Anguy? What are you doing here?"
"They had nine men. One hung back—when he tried to run, I stopped him."
He pointed off into the darkness.
In small skirmishes, Crabb soldiers resented anyone stealing their kills—it meant lost glory. Anguy, a born archer, had been scolded enough to curb the habit.
He longed for a larger war; the more enemies, the better—each one a step toward honor.
Osanna laughed.
"That one's yours, then."
He shrugged.
"Lord Crabb told me to keep an eye on Dick."
That was the cover story. In truth, his mission was to find an opportunity to assassinate Illyrio without revealing his identity. Gawen had given him a year.
Seeing the mansion ablaze, he had thought the gods had smiled on him—only to find Illyrio likely dead already. His fast track to knighthood had gone up in smoke.
Onboard, Viserys had seen Daenerys' guards cut down the patrol like wheat. His eyes shone.
"These are Lord Crabb's men? Are they that strong, or were those men that weak?"
Dick answered eagerly,
"Your Grace, we are that strong! Crabb soldiers are born and die for battle. Each is elite. That's why the Usurper keeps us suppressed—he fears our revenge."
Borona wondered at the mention of the Vale, but said nothing, simply nodding to lend weight to Dick's words.
Viserys looked pleased.
"The Usurper is a thief, forever afraid of vengeance. Lord Crabb is a true friend to House Targaryen—I will not forget this."
For Viserys, any who would help him reclaim the Iron Throne were loyalists.
Daenerys smiled faintly at the talk of Crabb's strength.
Soon the boarding planks were hauled in, and Osanna returned with her men—along with Anguy.
He bowed.
"Good evening, Your Grace. I am Anguy, personal guard to Lord Crabb."
Viserys' irritation at his deference to Daenerys faded the moment he heard the name. A commoner was beneath the notice of a dragon.
"Good evening, warrior Anguy," Daenerys asked. "What brings you here?"
Unable to meet her gaze for long, Anguy scratched his head.
"Lord Crabb worried about you living in the governor's mansion, so he left me behind to watch over you. When I saw you leaving Pentos, I had to show myself."
Borona added brightly,
"Your Grace, Anguy is the finest marksman in the Crabb lands."
Daenerys felt her cheeks warm.
"Thank you, Anguy. How would you like me to place you?"
He placed a hand over his heart.
"I'll remain with you for now, Your Grace. Plans may have changed, but my duty to protect you has not."
She turned for one last look at the governor's blazing mansion before moving to the prow. The others followed naturally in her wake.
Viserys clenched his fists, releasing them only after a long moment.
One year. If she fails, she will know the wrath of the sleeping dragon.
"Princess Daenerys, where to?"
"Tell the captain—we sail south."
The Narrow Sea – Ten Days Later
Aboard the Mermaid, the red dawn rose like a burning gem over the horizon.
"Captain! Pirate ship sighted!" the first mate called.
Rick Snow snapped fully awake and strode over.
After a moment of study, his grin widened.
"No mistake—that's a pirate ship."
"Pirates, Rick?" came Gawen Crabb's voice.
Turning to him, Rick's eyes shone with excitement.
After a pause, Gawen inclined his head.
"Pirate ship! Close the distance!" Rick roared.
He intended to seize every chance to expand the Crabb fleet—and with Lord Crabb aboard, the opportunity was too good to waste.
Gawen, seeing his enthusiasm, smiled.
"Matiel, ready bows and arrows."
It was rare enough to encounter pirates at sea; if possible, he wanted more such encounters to train the new sailors and capture enemy ships.
A fleet needed at least ten warships to begin with, and he meant to grow from there.
With Jon Arryn dead and only King Robert remaining, troop transport training had to be accelerated. The Vale's golden flower had been in his sights for some time.
Siren's Port – Ten Days Later
Morning mist curled over the water like gauze, half-veiling nine ships flying the golden marigold of the Marsh.
The Mermaid glided into the dock.
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