Chapter 136: Daenerys
"Go on, Ian, go on! I want to know more," Viserys demanded impatiently.
"Of course, Your Majesty. But the most important thing is us," Ian said, a flicker of irritation rising within him.
His only intention had been to shield Daenerys from Viserys's temper, but the Targaryen prince was relentless. Before tonight's dinner, Ian would have gladly spun tales for Viserys until the end of days, but now?
*Damn it all,* he thought. *I've already completed the second main task. I've secured Hazan's promise to fight in your name. You have no use value left, do you understand? A tool that has outlived its purpose, and you still expect me to patiently weave stories for you?*
*Enough.* *Your sister is my long-term meal ticket. She is the one whose favor I need to cultivate! You are nothing but a sidekick, soon to be crowned with molten gold.*
Ian forced a pained expression onto his face. "Daeron and I… we have lost everything. You are the last support for us, for our family."
He lowered his head and fell silent.
The abrupt shift in atmosphere stalled Viserys, making it impossible for him to press the topic further. After a moment of silence, he asked suddenly, "Ian, what is it that you want? How should I reward your loyalty? House Darry has sacrificed so much for the crown. Your devotion must be answered."
*If you weren't the Beggar King, I might actually be pleased to hear you say that.*
"Should I make you my Kingsguard?" Viserys mused aloud when Ian did not answer.
*No, no, no,* Ian screamed internally. *The Kingsguard take no wives and hold no lands. You would be repaying my loyalty with a curse.*
"You were born in the Riverlands," Viserys said fiercely, his violet eyes flashing with the madness unique to the Targaryen line. "I should grant you Riverrun. It is what you deserve. We will nail every last traitor of House Tully to a spear."
He grew more excited with each word. "Or perhaps you desire Casterly Rock more? Every Lannister must die as well!"
"Let us wait until we have taken back our homeland to speak of rewards," Ian said, unable to bear it any longer and cutting into Viserys's fantasy. "To be able to serve you is my greatest reward."
"Serve me? Good!" Viserys clapped Ian on the shoulder. "In that case, I name you my Hand of the King. You will command my armies and my subjects." He swayed, whether from wine or emotion Ian couldn't tell, and collapsed into his arms.
*Hand of the King,* Ian scoffed to himself. *You don't have a damned army or a single subject to your name.* To his astonishment, a chime echoed in the recesses of his mind—the sound of an achievement being unlocked.
*An achievement? For what?* Ian was stunned for a moment before the only possibility occurred to him—Viserys's appointment.
It was utterly absurd.
And yet, it was also logical. The completion of the second main quest meant the system now recognized Viserys's legal legitimacy. Therefore, his appointments held weight.
Shaking his head, Ian pushed the thoughts aside and carefully handed the slumbering Viserys to the nearby servants, instructing them to help the prince to his chambers.
"Magister Illyrio," Ian said, quickly intercepting the man after being freed of Viserys. "Something happened at the banquet. I feel I should report it to you."
"There is no need. When Olanto deliberately drew me away from Viserys, I already suspected their purpose." Illyrio paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Let us do this. We will dine together tomorrow morning, and you may tell me everything in detail."
"As you wish," Ian replied, seeing no reason to refuse.
With that, Illyrio departed.
Ian stood alone for a moment, replaying the magister's expression in his mind. He was confused. He had expected Illyrio to be furious that Yada was now committed to fighting for Hazan. After all, such an entanglement could compromise Illyrio's carefully maintained neutrality.
But from the magister's calm demeanor, he seemed almost pleased with how things had developed.
*So be it. I will have my answers in the morning.*
With that settled, Ian was about to ask a servant to show him to a room. He needed rest, and he needed to collect the rewards from his completed quest.
But as he turned, he found Daenerys still standing there.
"Why are you not in your room, resting, my little princess?" Ian asked softly. He knew that was what Ser Willem Darry had called her, and he hoped the old endearment would stir a fond memory and foster a sense of trust.
"I can't sleep," she whispered, her lip trembling. "I am to marry Khal Drogo soon. My brother says he is the Dragonlord Aegon reborn, that he will help us win back our throne."
"He will," Ian could only reply.
"But he is so frightening. Everyone is afraid of him. I can see it." The fear deep in her heart spilled out in a rush. She would never dare say such things to her brother; it would only wake the dragon's wrath. And she had no real relationship with Illyrio—everyone knew the magister's friendship came with ulterior motives.
She had nowhere else to turn, no one else to confess her terror to. Some instinct told her that this knight, this stranger, could be trusted.
Ian's first, uncharitable thought was, *What good does telling me this do? Do you think I can stop you from marrying the Khal?*
The next moment, the thought stunned him.
*Is it possible?* He realized he had never once considered it. His entire plan was built upon the known sequence of events: Daenerys marries Drogo, Drogo dies, Dany hatches the dragons, and then uses them as leverage to conquer the cities of Slaver's Bay.
But did it have to happen that way?
The answer came almost instantly. *Impossible.* Steal Khal Drogo's bride? Here, in Pentos, under the watchful eye of Illyrio, a man who had built his fortune on information? It was a fool's dream.
Ian adjusted his thoughts and his expression. "Then, Your Highness, what can I do for you? You need only give the order."
His earnest words seemed to halt her. What could he possibly do? He was just a landless knight with an empty title. It had just been a desperate complaint.
"Drogo will be kind to you," Ian said, his voice softening with reassurance. "You are his bride, his *khaleesi* of the great grass sea. He will protect you."
"Truly?" she asked, her eyes wide with suspicion.
"Do you believe me?" Ian smiled gently and reached out to touch her head. In that moment, he saw not a future queen, but a helpless, frightened little girl.
Dany did not flinch from his touch. His hand was warm, gentle, just like Ser Willem's had been. She nodded, a silent admission of her trust.
"Go and get some rest," Ian told her. "Everything will be fine."
"Oh." She nodded again, this time with a quiet obedience, and turned to leave.
Watching her small figure disappear down the hall, Ian couldn't help but let out a humorless laugh.
*Everything will not be fine. According to the original story, your ordeal has only just begun. Your entire life will be a tapestry of pain and betrayal.*
*But thankfully,* he amended, *in this timeline, all your suffering will end the moment those dragons are born.*
As the thought surfaced, his earlier question returned with it. *Is it possible?*
Theoretically, Daenerys's greatest value to him was her claim to the throne and her unique ability to hatch dragons. If he could secure the dragon eggs, the marriage to Drogo was not strictly necessary. In fact, without her experience as a khaleesi, she would never develop the imperious habits of a ruler. It would be far easier to guide—to control—a timid, frightened exile than a queen accustomed to power and conquest.
It was a pity he had no capital to make such a move. He rejected the idea again. He couldn't afford to take such a meaningless risk.
But as he made his way toward his own chambers, the question echoed in his mind, refusing to fade.
*Is it possible?*
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