"Ah, Your Majesty, you're aware of our traditions back home!" Jordan Snow said with a smile, unfazed by Daenerys's discovery of his bastard status. "I'm a Snow, from the North. Westeros has three major ports: the capital, King's Landing, is the largest and most prosperous; Oldtown in the south is second; and White Harbor in the North is third.
In truth, I serve Lord Manderly of White Harbor. The *Ginkgo Girl* is one-third his property."
"Could you be that fat eel's bastard son?" Whitebeard exclaimed.
*(Eel: Lord Manderly of White Harbor was known for his corpulence, earning him the nickname "Eel".)*
This time, Jordan Snow looked slightly embarrassed, his horse-like face flushing crimson. "I'm not so honored as to be the Lord's bastard son."
"When do you plan to return?" Daenerys asked, changing the subject to spare him further embarrassment.
"In about two months, I think," Jordan replied after a moment's thought. "I came out mainly to acquire a batch of Eastern spices. The prices in Qarth are still a bit steep, so I might head to the Jade Sea."
"Do you know that Eddard Stark has been imprisoned by Joffrey, and that Robb Stark is leading his army south?" she asked again.
"Really?" Jordan jumped in surprise, calling out in panic. "I left White Harbor over a year ago. I've been gradually trading goods along the way, in Lys, Volantis, and Meereen. It took quite a while. What about King Robert? He and Duke Stark were childhood friends."
"He was the Usurper!" Jorah reminded him coldly. "The Usurper is dead, murdered by Cersei."
"Why?" Jordan asked, bewildered.
"Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen are actually Cersei and Jaime's bastard children. Eddard Stark discovered this," Jorah explained.
He wasn't entirely sure if this rumor was true.
"Jordan Snow," Daenerys said after a moment, deciding to put on an act. "You know I visited the Warlock's House of the Undying, right?"
"I've heard your dragon burned the Undying to death," Jordan replied, his eyes flickering.
"That's not the point," Daenerys waved her hand dismissively, leaning forward and lowering her voice. "I saw a prophecy there concerning Robb Stark."
"Huh?" Horseface Jordan looked utterly bewildered, his face a mask of confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"Did you really see a prophecy about Robb Stark? What happened to him?" Jorah asked urgently.
Ever since Daenerys had described Rhaegar's appearance in detail, he had been skeptical of the prophecies she claimed to have seen.
Seeing Whitebeard also listening intently, Daenerys cleared her throat and spoke in a low, solemn voice: "His head was severed, and a grey wolf's head was sewn onto his neck."
"Hiss—" Jorah gasped in horror. "Who killed him? What about the others? What happened to his vassals who went south with him?"
"They were in a massive wooden hall, their bodies piled on the floor. They seemed to be attending a feast when enemies suddenly burst in. No, wait." Daenerys carefully recalled the scene. "They seemed completely unaware of the danger before they died. Robb was seated at the dining table, still clutching a leg of lamb in his hand."
"Impossible!" Jorah, Horseface Jordan, and Whitebeard exclaimed in unison.
From Daenerys's description, they immediately understood what had happened: someone had invited Robb and his vassals to a feast and, violating the sacred laws of hospitality, had murdered their guests.
Daenerys shrugged. "I'm not lying. Honestly, I'm as baffled as you are as to why I would see a prophecy about the Stark boy."
Whitebeard seemed to have found a loophole. "Since it was a wolf's head, how can you be certain of his identity? You haven't even met Robb Stark himself."
Daenerys rolled her eyes, her tone sharp. "I may not have met the man, but do you think I don't know the sigils of the Seven Great Houses? The black dragon on red of the Targaryens, the crowned stag of the Usurper, the rose of Highgarden, the spear of Dorne piercing the sun, the trout of Tully, the kraken of the Greyjoys—"
"It's a sea monster!" Whitebeard corrected.
Daenerys waved her hand, her expression forlorn. "You don't understand. It's a kraken!"
This time, Whitebeard didn't argue. *You're a princess,* he thought. *If you say it's a kraken, then it's a kraken.*
"The lion of the Lannisters, the blue eagle of the Arryns, the gray direwolf of House Stark—no issues there, right?" Seeing the others nod gently, Daenerys sighed. "With a banner that massive, I couldn't possibly have missed it."
"Perhaps it was Eddard Stark," Whitebeard suggested.
"It was a young man, wearing a crown on his head."
"Do you know who killed them?" Jordan Snow asked, his voice tense.
Daenerys shrugged. "I don't. The wolf's head was alive, its eyes filled with sorrow and accusation. I was terrified and ran away immediately."
"If this is true—a king murdered in his host's home—such a depraved and wicked act can only be set right by you. This is a symbol of the Seven Kingdoms' people's day and night longing for your return!" Whitebeard declared with fervent passion.
*You think too much, old man, and your fantasies are too beautiful!*
"He wore a crown, yet he still expected the Queen to avenge him?" Jorah scoffed.
Wearing a crown signified Robb's declaration of himself as king.
"Alright, I'll have Black Diamond sketch the scene. He witnessed it with me. You can take it to Little Stark.
Though Eddard Stark committed heinous crimes—colluding with the Usurper to murder his king—the sacred right of guests must never be violated—even if Robb Stark is my enemy."
Daenerys spoke with righteous fervor, her words ringing with conviction. Whitebeard listened, his heart swelling with emotion. *Finally!* he thought. *I've met a wise, just, compassionate, and selfless ruler!*
He longed to reveal his true identity to Her Majesty the Queen immediately.
Then, under the stunned gazes of Bevos, Whitebeard, Blackbeard, Jordan Snow, and the others, Big Black dipped his massive claw in ink and swiftly drew a gruesome, terrifying depiction of a death banquet.
"What... what is this?" Jorah stared at the scene, racking his brain. "I must have been here before! This wooden hall... it's so familiar, but I can't place it."
"The Twin Towers! Frey!" Whitebeard's eyes sharpened like sword edges as he enunciated each word. "The late Frey... this is the banquet hall of the Marquis of House Frey of Riverrun!"
"Yes, yes, that's it!" Reminded by Whitebeard, Jorah's eyes lit up with recognition. "The long hall, the two-tiered platforms on either side, specially set up for the musicians..."
"Seven Hells!" He slapped his forehead, nearly wailing. "Meige and the others are doomed! Those platforms aren't just for the band—they're perfect ambush points for archers!"
"I told you long ago that Robb Stark was too young and inexperienced, nowhere near as cunning as those Southern lords like Tywin. He was bound to doom them all sooner or later."
Bevos, who had remained silent until now, grinned and said casually, "The Dragon's Painting was certainly eye-opening, but whether it's a prophecy or a hallucination, no one can be sure. There's no need to get so worked up."
"You don't understand, Your Highness and Black Diamond have never set foot in Westeros, nor have they ever met Robb Stark—it's definitely that boy. Even I had almost forgotten about the Twin Towers Bridge of House Frey."
Jorah shook his head repeatedly, his face filled with grief. Among the corpses scattered on the ground must be his family. Who remained on Bear Island, his aunt and cousin?
"Notify House Stark of this immediately," Whitebeard told Jordan Snow. "Robb Stark may be judged, but he should not be slaughtered like this."
"I'll do it as soon as possible," Jordan Snow promised solemnly.
After Jordan left with *The Young Wolf's Last Feast*, Jorah hesitated and asked, "Your Highness, did you see any other prophecies?"
"A lot of jumbled things—the Son of Three, the Bride of Fire, the Lie Killer, the Cloth Dragon floating on a banner—"
"Cloth Dragon?" Jorah asked, puzzled.
"Don't ask me. I don't know what it means either," Daenerys said, shaking her head. "I also saw the Iron Throne, and a conversation between my father Aerys and the Hand."
After a moment of silence, she sighed. "He deserved to die."
"Who?"
"My father."
"What?!" The others were horrified, never imagining she would utter such treasonous words.
Daenerys narrowed her eyes, staring at Whitebeard. "I'm sure you know many royal secrets. Did my father plan to burn King's Landing with wildfire?"
"That's impossible!" Whitebeard blurted out. He quickly added, "He's the king! King's Landing is the capital, its people are his subjects. Why would he destroy his own city?"
"It's possible," Jorah said, lowering his gaze. "What if King's Landing was no longer his to rule?"
"His Majesty might have had such intentions, but never had the chance to carry them out," Whitebeard said with difficulty.
"Perhaps," Daenerys nodded. "I also saw countless people shouting 'Misha' at me."
"Uh..." The group stood stunned.
"Never mind, I won't dwell on it. The Undying were indeed killed by dragons. They wanted to drain my life and bloodline, and the prophecy was merely to fulfill the conditions for their witchcraft: equivalent exchange, or perhaps, to gain something, one must pay a price?" Daenerys shrugged, unsure if her reasoning was correct.
During lunch, Daenerys was assassinated.
Well, the assassination failed.
It was just mealtime, and Daenerys was dining with the Braavosi captain. After lunch, a sailor came to report that Xaro had sent a gift to the Mother of Dragons.
Daenerys was astonished and immediately ordered the messenger to be brought before her.
The man was a lavishly dressed Qartheen middle-aged man, impeccably groomed, with impeccable manners and a steady demeanor.
"I am Butler Eight under Lord Xaro. Hakeem, who you often deal with, is Butler One. He manages the lord's estate in Qarth, while I oversee the warehouses in the dock district."
Daenerys nodded, remembering how Xaro had once boasted to her: "The number and quality of my servants rival any king in the world. I have thirty stewards managing them alone. My Star of Paradise, marry me, and I'll ensure you live like a queen."
*That disgusting faggot!*
Daenerys frowned, puzzled. "I've already left. Why has Lord Xaro suddenly decided to send me a gift?"
Butler Eight offered a smile tinged with embarrassment. "The Yellow Riding Jacket you gifted his Lordship today was exceptionally noble and magnificent. Knowing your fondness for Eastern jade, he specifically instructed me to retrieve a set of premium jade from the warehouse for you."
He presented a finely crafted wooden box with both hands. The emerald lid was inlaid with jade and chalcedony, while the purple wood box was bordered with shimmering gold.
*Hiss—*
Big Black suddenly dropped the charred beef bone from his mouth, thrusting his head forward, his eyes fixed intently on the box.
-----------------------
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