While Rhaenys was being led inside the manse, Oberyn and Arianne were still staring toward the horizon, their eyes fixed on the sky where the dragons had vanished. It was not the first time they had seen the five dragons in their full grandeur. It had been a common sight during the days they had spent in Qohor. But every time, they were in the same awe. And this time, the unexpectedness of the event had caught them by surprise.
"Was that Rhaenys Targaryen?" Arianne murmured a moment later.
"I do not think we know of anyone else who has a dragon," Oberyn responded. "Not to mention I recognized all of them. They are the exact same beasts we saw flying across Qohor's skies for days. There is no mistake."
"I recognized them, too," Arianne said. "But why would she come here?"
Just like the previous question, this too had been a rhetorical question, one she already knew the answer to. She was here to meet Viserys. Arianne could not imagine Rhaenys was in Pentos for any other reason.
"To meet Viserys, of course," Oberyn stated the obvious.
But his mind was in turmoil. Rhaenys had almost outright refused to acknowledge him as her uncle back in Qohor.
Though she had spoken a bit more softly with him in their final moments together, after she had beaten and battered him in their spar, she had shown no real familial affection. And yet, here she was, traveling all this way to meet Viserys.
He was not sure if this was strictly a political meeting since Viserys was a fellow claimant to the Iron Throne or if she had come here simply because Viserys was her blood, her father's brother. Regardless of her reasoning, an uncomfortable knot formed in Oberyn's chest.
"I need to see Rhaenys," he murmured softly.
Arianne heard him, but before she could even process the words, Oberyn had already turned on his heel, marching out of the inn and heading straight toward Illyrio's manse.
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.
.
Rhaenys, Illyrio, Viserys, Daenerys, and the rest of the magisters were seated around a long, rectangular table. There were about a dozen people in total. The seating arrangement was such that Rhaenys sat on one side of the table, with Illyrio seated to her immediate right. Viserys sat directly opposite her, with Daenerys seated to his side, while the magisters filled in the remaining spaces.
The table was laden with a vast variety of rare and exotic dishes and wines and alcohol. Illyrio had gone all out in preparing for the feast.
"Lady Rhaenys," Illyrio began, raising his cup. "I welcome you to Pentos on behalf of all the magisters and the city's people."
He then proceeded to introduce the rest of the magisters. Rhaenys greeted each with a polite smile and a subtle nod.
"And lastly, none other than your uncle, Viserys Targaryen," Illyrio said.
There was a tinge of hesitation and awkwardness in his voice. Though she had traveled all the way from Qohor to Pentos, her initial reaction toward Viserys had already made it obvious that this reunion would not be smooth sailing. Illyrio internally fretted and worried.
If she was going to be so cold toward him, why even bother making the long journey? He could not understand her purpose and intentions.
"Niece," Viserys drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. "How have you been?"
Rhaenys did not reply immediately. She tilted her head slightly, staring at Viserys as if studying an insect.
"I have been fine," she said after a few long moments. "Very fine, if I may say."
"Splendid!" Viserys chuckled. "But you still have not told us where you have been all these years. You said you would discuss these things in person."
"Daenerys and I have not lived a luxurious life, and we have faced a lot of hardship," he continued. "But had we known there was another Targaryen out there, I would have surely done my best to take care of you."
"I have lived a good life," Rhaenys said plainly.
"Where?" Viserys pressed. "I want to know where you were hiding."
"I grew up in Braavos," she said calmly. "A very loyal man from Dorne sacrificed the lives of his entire family, including his infant daughter, to save me and somehow smuggle me out of King's Landing."
"Oh!" Viserys remarked breezily. "He must be a very great man. A very great man indeed."
"When I reclaim the Iron Throne, I will name him a lord and grant him lands in the Crownlands," he said with a laugh. "I will reward him handsomely for the great service he has done for House Targaryen."
"Reclaim the Iron Throne?" Rhaenys repeated, her expression completely neutral. "I have indeed heard that you desire to reclaim the Iron Throne. I have also heard that Magister Illyrio is supporting you."
"I wonder what plans you have to defeat Robert Baratheon," she continued, her tone even. "What are your plans to cross the Narrow Sea? How exactly do you intend to build an army for this conquest?"
An awkward, long-drawn silence followed Rhaenys's questions. Her voice and expression had remained entirely polite and neutral as she laid the questions before the room. And yet, every word struck Viserys like a physical blow.
The echo of the invisible slap she had just delivered rippled perfectly through the tense air. A raging flush crept across Viserys's face, and he was on the absolute verge of losing control.
But before he could explode, the sounds of shouting and screaming erupted from outside the mansion. A deep frown creased Illyrio's face.
"What is happening out there?" He asked no one in particular.
One of the guards sprang into action and ran out of the dining hall. The clamor outside only grew louder. The soldier returned a few moments later, panting.
"It is Prince Oberyn Martell and a few of his men," he reported breathlessly. "He is arguing with the mercenaries of the Golden Company."
"It seems he is demanding entry into the mansion, but the sellswords are denying him," the guard added. "If they are not stopped, steel is about to be drawn."
"Lady Rhaenys," Illyrio stuttered, rising hastily from his seat. "I am so sorry. Excuse me."
He hurried out of the room as fast as his bulk would allow. If weapons were drawn and blood was spilled, Illyrio would be in catastrophic trouble. On one side was Oberyn Martell from Dorne, and on the other was the Golden Company, acting as the escort of Rhaenys Targaryen. If they fought, it would be an absolute disaster.
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