Two things about the brown-skinned, stout man caught Daenerys's attention: First, his cheeks were smooth and delicate, much like those of the eunuchs in Qarth. Second, his exposed skin—arms, chest, and the lower half of his abdomen—was crisscrossed with old scars.
Compared to his tan complexion, the pale scars stood out like business cards.
The other elderly man wore an undyed wool traveling cloak with his hood up. Long white hair cascaded to his shoulders, and a silken, silver-white beard covered the lower half of his face.
He leaned on a hardwood staff as tall as himself, trailing half a step behind the robust stout man, as if serving as his servant.
Yet the old man's bearing far surpassed that of the bald, stout man. His tall, muscular frame resembled that of a seasoned warrior.
"Welcome. I am Daenerys Targaryen," Daenerys said with a smile.
The stout man gave a casual bow and chuckled. "Your Majesty, hello! I am Bevos, known as 'Bewys the Strongman'."
Hearing his high-pitched voice and considering his nickname, Daenerys thought: *Only a man who's lost his manhood would care so much about such a title!*
The old man performed a standard bow, as if he had done it a thousand times. He knelt on one knee and said, "Your Majesty, my true name is Astan. Bevos gave me the nickname Whitebeard."
Whitebeard?
The title was far more imposing than "Strongman" and amused Daenerys.
"Guests, please sit here," she said, gesturing for them to remove their shoes and cool off in the fountain pool.
The plump Bevos was unceremonious. He strode forward, kicked off his leather sandals, and stepped into the pool with muddy feet. The wicker lounge chair creaked as it sank half an inch under his weight. He grabbed the wine jug and began guzzling directly from it.
Fortunately, the pool was fed by a continuous stream of fresh water gushing from the mouth of the Giant Dragon statue. Otherwise, all the Kissing Fish would have perished.
Whitebeard, however, stood frozen, his mouth agape in astonishment, remaining motionless for a long moment.
Daenerys frowned. "What's wrong? Is there a problem?"
"I apologize, Your Majesty," the old man stammered, his face flushing. "To sit with you, and even share the same pool for a foot bath, is..." He moved to the edge of the pool, not entering it, and sighed. "You are not quite what I imagined a queen to be. I thought you would be more... more..."
He stammered, unable to utter the offensive word. Daenerys, however, laughed. "Royal bearing? Targaryen etiquette?"
"I truly apologize," Whitebeard said again. "In truth, you're quite fine as you are."
"Heh, I'm just a street-raised wild girl. I've barely read a few books. What do I know of Targaryen etiquette?"
As she spoke, a mischievous glint flashed in her amethyst eyes. "Big Black, come meet our guest."
*Hiss—* The black dragon had been sunning himself on the roof, looking more like a dragon-shaped stone sculpture to anyone who might glance up.
Hearing his mother's call, he rose and leaped down with a sudden lunge.
*Flap, flap.* His wings scattered leaves and branches. Before the astonished eyes of Whitebeard and Bewys, Big Black landed with a splash beside Daenerys.
"Do I have a bit more royal bearing now?" Daenerys asked, stroking the dragon's head with a smile.
The fearsome black dragon and the ethereal silver-haired girl stood side-by-side, radiating a peculiar sense of majesty.
"You are the true dragon, the genuine Targaryen, the sole Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" Whitebeard's eyes welled with tears, his voice trembling with emotion.
Since devouring the Demigod Warlock with Daenerys' help a few days ago, Big Black seemed to have evolved significantly. Not only had his appetite and growth rate increased, but his intelligence had also risen to roughly that of a six or seven-year-old child.
Crucially, his temperament had become more stable, less volatile than before. After being taught by Daenerys, he could now suppress his longing for the sky and refrain from flying about recklessly.
Thus, while the other two dragons remained bound by chains, Big Black had broken free from his restraints.
"How has he grown to the size of a foal in just over four months?" Bevos asked, snapping back to attention with genuine interest.
"He's that big? You don't know his appetite," Daenerys said, shaking her head. She then asked, "Bevos, what brings you to Qarth?"
He set down his empty wine skin, picked up a green-skinned crisp melon, and took a bite. "Bevos was originally a gladiator in Meereen. His undefeated record and fame led a merchant from Kohor to buy him, who later resold him at a higher price to that fat man in Pentos whose hair always smells of spices."
"Governor Illyrio?"
"Yes, that's him," Eunuch Bevos nodded. "The fat man sent Bewys the Strongman across the sea to serve as the Little Queen's bodyguard. As for Whitebeard, he was the bodyguard the fat man arranged for Bevos."
"I am his attendant," Whitebeard said, raising his staff high like a banner-topped spear. "Your Majesty, I was born on the borders of Dorne and served as a squire to a knight of House Swyn in my youth."
*You must be at least sixty years old,* the girl thought, *and you're still acting as a bodyguard and attendant?*
Though she grumbled inwardly, she asked aloud, "You're still a Westerosi, sir? No wonder your Common Tongue is so fluent."
She then pointed to the iron-clad knight standing nearby. "My Queen's Guard here is also a Westerosi knight. Do you know him?"
At the words "Queen's Guard," Whitebeard's expression shifted. He scrutinized Jorah for a moment before saying coolly, "Lord Mormont has a certain... *reputation* throughout the Seven Kingdoms."
*What kind of reputation does the Big Bear have?*
*Violating the ban and trafficking slaves? Abandoning honor and evading his liege's judgment? Being cuckolded by his wife?*
Jorah, sensing the hostility in Whitebeard's tone, frowned. "You didn't mention knowing me at the docks. When did we ever meet?"
"Lord Mormont, at Pyke, you fought bravely and were knighted. At Lannisport, you nearly unhorsed the Kingslayer, winning the heart of a fair lady. I didn't mention it before because it wasn't necessary. But now that His Majesty asks, I must speak the truth," Whitebeard replied calmly.
"You do look familiar," Jorah said, pulling up his mask and studying Whitebeard intently. He shook his head. "The Lannisport tournament had hundreds of participants, and the assault on Pyke involved thousands of knights. I can't place you. But I should remind you, I'm no longer a lord. The title of Lord of Bear Island belongs to Maege Mormont. I'm merely a wandering knight."
"You are my Queen's Guard," Daenerys interjected.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Jorah said, the bitterness fading from his face as a genuine smile bloomed.
"Sir Jorah possesses extensive combat experience and has saved my life on multiple occasions. He is my most loyal friend and an outstanding advisor."
Though the words were insincere, Daenerys spoke them with such solemnity and natural grace that Jorah's smile grew even wider.
She didn't forget to help the Dothraki make a good impression on the guests. Pointing to Aggo, she introduced him: "This is Aggo, my bloodrider. He's also a Ko, with exceptional martial skills and fearless courage."
"The Khaleesi is already well-protected by us," Aggo said, glancing at the corpulent eunuch Bevos.
"Just another Dothraki boy," Bevos sneered, tossing aside the half-eaten melon and baring his teeth. "Bewys the Strongman doesn't even remember how many Dothraki boys he's slaughtered in the pits. Every one of them had longer braids and more bells than you."
Before Aggo could respond, he slapped his scarred, thick belly with his right hand, still sticky with green melon juice. "See this? Before Bevos kills someone, he gives them one chance to strike him first. How many people do you think 'Bewys the Strongman' has killed? Hahaha! Countless!"
Aggo drew his blade in fury, pointing it at the fat eunuch. "I've never killed a brown-skinned fat man before. Bevos barely qualifies to earn me another bell."
"Sheathe your weapon, Blood of My Blood," Daenerys said gently, pressing down on Arakh's blade. "This man has traveled thousands of miles to serve me. He should not be met with steel."
She turned to Bevos with solemnity. "If you truly wish to pledge your loyalty to me, you must respect my people, my companions, and my brothers. If you cannot do so, you would be better off returning to Illyrio and awaiting your next master."
The giant's broad, brown face lost its grin. He glanced at the petite yet imposing girl beside him, then at the black dragon beside her, its nostrils steaming white. He grumbled, "Bevos hasn't completed his mission yet. Can't go back."
Daenerys smiled at the burly man and asked, "What mission is that?"
"That fat man wants dragons, and he wants you—the girl who hatches them," Bevos said bluntly.
*Mmp, I knew everyone would covet young dragons, but this is too direct!*
*Couldn't you at least use some subtlety first? I'm not used to this!*
Daenerys's smile froze, leaving her stunned.
Whitebeard explained, "Bevos speaks the truth. However, Governor Illyrio sent us to bring you back to help restore the Targaryen dynasty to the throne."
Now that the Usurper is dead, the realm has fallen into chaos. Four kings have emerged simultaneously, slaughtering each other and leaving the land littered with corpses.
"Your Majesty, the Seven Kingdoms need you. The people of the Seven Kingdoms need you. The justice of the Seven Kingdoms needs you to uphold it!"
"Alright, I'll let that slide."
Daenerys frowned. "Four kings? Which four?"
"The Usurper's son, Joffrey Baratheon. The Usurper's third brother, Renly Baratheon, Duke of Storm's End. The Usurper's second brother, Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone. And the son of Eddard Stark, the Usurper's former friend, now the King in the North, Robb Stark. It's also said that Balon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands plans to rise up and claim the throne." Whitebeard said, his brow furrowed with concern.
"The prophecy is truly coming true," Daenerys murmured. "You know I went to the House of the Undying, don't you?"
"I've heard tales. Your dragons burned those charlatan warlocks to the ground," Whitebeard said, his voice dripping with deference.
His tone carried a clear disdain for the warlocks.
"Sir Jorah, tell this old gentleman about the prophecy I saw in the House of the Undying related to Westeros," Daenerys said, turning to him.
The knight's expression grew grave. "When you returned, you told me you saw a beautiful woman being assaulted by four ugly dwarfs. You said the woman represented Westeros, and the four dwarfs... You asked me who they represented, and I guessed it was Queen Cersei, Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Varys, and King Joffrey."
"But..." Whitebeard's white beard bristled with disbelief. "Could those blue-lipped sorcerers truly possess foresight?"
Not everyone who entered the House of the Undying could see visions. Most were simply overwhelmed by the environment, while only those with certain qualities could catch limited glimpses of the river of time.
"I don't understand magic at all. I don't know if it was an illusion or some other method," Daenerys said, shaking her head solemnly. "But that day, I truly saw many things—my elder brother Rhaegar, my sister-in-law Princess Elia, and my nephew Aegon.
Rhaegar had blue eyes, not violet, didn't he?
I'd never seen him before.
Oh, and he was holding his son and told me that dragons have three heads, and one is still missing."
-----------------------
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