"Gifts, you say?" Daenerys received a man at her castle. Tohrren was at her side, as were Barristan, Queen Lyanna, and Princess Visenya. They were in a small, impromptu council, receiving Victarion Greyjoy.
The man had sailed through the Blackwater; his ships were small enough to move in the river.
"Yes... Gifts, my princess," the man looked directly at her. He tried to hide it, but his eyes were looking at her with desire, not lust, but as a lover. Daenerys felt insecure in his presence. Ever since Jaehaerys left, she had felt insecure.
"For what reasons, my lord?" asked the princess. If she cut off the head of every man who looked at her inappropriately, she would have enough to build a tower.
"Simply for allowing me to admire your beauty. It is as legendary as they say," the man flattered her, but Daenerys felt indifferent to his words.
"My husband is a happy man, indeed," she reminded him of her husband's presence, hoping to see him squirm a little. Most men did.
"Many envied Prince Jaehaerys, myself included," but it seemed that the Ironborn was made of different stuff than most men. Looked dumber.
"You could tell him that in person when he returns," said the princess, but the man did not back down. Instead, he continued solemnly.
"The prince... on my way here, I get a letter. Jaehaerys Targaryen is dead, against the mountain," Victarion said, his head bowed to the ground.
"You lie," Daenerys said, not believing the man's words for a moment. Jaehaerys would not die against the mountain. No.
"A letter from the queen mother," the man pulled a scroll from his clothing. Dany looked at the paper.
With a glance, Tohrren approached Victarion. The Ironborn looked at the northerner with something resembling anger, then at the princess. Finally, the letter passed into Dany's hands.
She recognized her mother's handwriting. It detailed Jaehaerys' situation and reprimanded her for having the men prevent her from seeing her son. Daenerys frowned in confusion; she had not forbidden anything. If those were Brandon's words, then they were Jaehaerys' orders. The princess wondered what her wayward husband was up to.
"And why is this letter in your hands, my Lord?", Daenerys asked.
"One of my men found the raven's death, and the letter with it," the man said. Truth was other. He ordered his men to kill the raven, he wanted to deliver the letter himself. He knew the content because of Euron's words.
"It doesn't say anything about him dying. He is a strong man, like no other. I have faith that he will survive," the princess said to the man, playing along for a moment.
"The prince is already dead... that letter is late, a new one should arrive in a few days. He died poisoned in his bed," Victarion said so firmly that Daenerys almost believed him.
But he was full of shit. The necklace around Jaehaerys's neck would not let him die of poisoning.
"You come from Blackwater... from King's Landing. Does news of my husband reach the capital faster than his own castle?" she asked, seeing how far he was willing to take the lie. "If he died, they would have sent a raven".
"I learned from a letter from my nephew, Theon, who attended the tournament. He was the one who gave me the gift," the man didn't even flinch.
"And you decided to bring a gift for what? To celebrate my becoming a widow?" she asked firmly, her voice rising.
The men at her sides stiffened. Dany looked at Tohrren; he was calm. Lyanna, on the other hand, looked horrified, as if she were losing her faith. Her hand was on Visenya's shoulder, who looked confused.
"My gift is vengeance, My Princess," he looked up, his eyes locked with Daenerys's. "I know the assassins," the man said, opening his arms. "A gift and a proposal. The gift is the names of your husband's killers. The proposal is an alliance... by marriage," Daenerys fought back the feeling of disgust rising in her stomach, making her want to puke.
"Marriage?" Daenerys asked. "I have just been widowed," she said, though her face showed no sign of grief. She glanced at Lyanna, who was glaring at her. She would have to explain later.
"An alliance. My ships and your dragons, with them we will avenge your husband and claim the Iron Throne. We will lash the coasts and burn castles until they melt. Our children, our heirs, will rule the sky and the sea. Men will tremble when they hear their names." He spoke with unbridled fanaticism. "Princess, the gods have chosen us," Victarion said.
The man began to remove a leather glove.
"In the seven hells!" Ser Barristan said, his hand going unconsciously to his hilt.
Daenerys remained silent. Victarion's hand was black, not shiny, but charred. She could see smoke rising from it, like smoldering coal.
"The gods have blessed us!" The man took a step closer. Tohrren drew his sword; Ser Barristan did the same. "Little men... You don't understand. The gods have marked me; they favor me. The gods made you bring the dragons back to the world. Magic springs forth, and the gods are happy," his eyes glowed with fanaticism. He was a big man, with more strength than brains. "You were brought to my path, just as I was brought to yours," he told her.
"Enough!" Daenerys was beginning to worry. The hand in front of her was not natural, by any means. It was special, and she feared what would happen if a battle began there. "My husband is alive. I ask that you take your ships and sail away." she cut the conversation short.
She walked outside, Tohrren accompanying her, his unsheathed sword posing no threat to Victarion.
Victarion would not give up. He walked behind her outside, into the open air. Daenerys felt safer seeing him outside. She sighed to the sky. Victarion had not come alone; he had brought a group of ten men with him.
"Don't you understand?" he asked, as if she were a little girl who needed things explained to her carefully. "It is the will of the gods."
"Which gods?" Daenerys asked, wanting to buy time. She did not trust Tohrren and Barristan's ability to deal with magic. Daenerys had a total of ten men with her, the same number as Victarion, as a sign of respect. How foul she was. 'I should have gotten more', that doesn't matter right now, Castle's guards were looking now in their direction, ready to act if needed.
"The Red God, the Drowned God, all of them! I am his chosen one. My brother, Euron, thinks he is special, but he is just a blasphemer," Daenerys frowned, she had heard that name before, he had asked for her mother's hand in marriage.
"The Red God sends you?" Dany's voice turned venomous.
"Yes, the very same. The one who helped you hatch the dragon eggs. Look," he showed her his magic hand again. It was unpleasant to look at. "This is his doing. Listen to me, I truly have not told a single lie since I entered your castle."
The man was foolish. Either he was an idiot with a plan, or he had simply been deceived. Perhaps by Euron?
"I ask you to leave my castle. Take your hand to another woman, one who is unmarried and willing to be your partner. I'll rather die than marry a R'hllor fanatic," the man seemed a little pathetic at that moment, as if he didn't understand why things weren't turning out the way he thought they would.
"My brother will come for you... Euron is not kind. Allow me to take your hand. I will keep you safe," he said, and Daenerys looked at him calmly, her violet eyes fixed on his.
The air felt heavier; a shadow covered them all. Eyes looked up, and the men began to murmur. Then came a roar from the sky.
The dragons were not accustomed to showing themselves, although with their size, it was becoming increasingly impossible for them to remain hidden from view. People were already aware of them, but they did not know how large they were or how fierce they were.
"I don't need your protection..." said Daenerys. "Leave my castle," she told him.
Victarion looked at the dragon, the creature dwarfing him and glaring with fury. He looked at his own hand and then at the dragon, both black. The eyes were like two burning coals, his hand burned constantly... that dragon was his to claim.
"Return to the ships," he told his men.
Euron sent him there. He was supposed to take Daenerys to him, with a dragon. Meanwhile, his nephew, Rodrik, attacked King's Landing; he found a way to Argentstone. Victarion wanted the princess's hand, with her and the dragons; his return to sea would have been easy.
Not for a second did he doubt his plan would succeed; the gods were on his side.
His brother assured him that Jaehaerys would die. He didn't believe it at first, but it was confirmed in the letter he intercepted. That was why he was so bold as to ask for the princess's hand. Euron wanted her. But Euron wasn't a devotee; he was damned, a blasphemer.
And an idiot. Euron gave him a horn, a horn with the ability to control dragons. He didn't want to use it at first; he planned to win the princess's hand through the resentment she would feel over her husband's death. Now she, a fragile woman, would need a strong man to protect her.
But she still didn't understand. The horn... the gods gave it to him. It was a test.
Perhaps when Victarion uses the horn, she will see what he means by "the chosen one of the gods."